#but alas I am Scared of being Perceived

[foulbearobservation]

Sometimes I'm manic and I'm like. damn I should publish something. I (probably incorrectly) think it would be fun

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

To Cry Uncle

🐦‍⬛ Alright, alright, let's get this show on the road 🐦‍⬛

Does Two of us make a Murder of Crows? … Or an Unkindness of Ravens?

BAM!!

The door slammed open, rattling the attic from its impact. Scattered papers shook, and even the inky letters spilled onto them seemed to tremble too.

A man in a top hat and feathered cape barreled in. From her writing desk, a girl cloaked in the same sleek, dark feathers bristled and set down her quill.

"U-Uncle?! Don't scare me like that," Raven gently chided him. "You could have at the very least considered knocking before barging in unannounced."

It was something which the headmaster of Night Raven College made a habit to do. Lectures, labs—he arrived whenever he pleased, then disappeared just as quickly. Some called him a whimsical genius (well, usually it came from his own mouth), but most called him mad and unpredictable.

But today he wore a frown instead of a smile, was less bird-like and more pitiable kitten drenched in the rain. Dragging out a sigh and a sob, Crowley threw his arms around Raven. His talons dug into his mark, the other hand woefully stroking her hair—hair which would have dampened if he had released any real tears.

"Raven-kun!!" he cried out, “Oh, it’s awful! Dreadful! The most preposterous thing happened to me on my morning stroll. You’ll hear me out, won’t you, my dear niece?”

Awful? Dreadful? Preposterous? More awful, dreadful, and preposterous than the slew of Overblots that had plagued their once-peaceful academy? She had her doubts, but entertained him nevertheless.

"… Alright, what has got you so out of sorts?" Raven asked wearily. (Her question came out muffled, on account of being pressed against her guardian’s chest.) She had learned to be patient with him, but prepared for the catastrophizing.

Perhaps the cafeteria ran out of his favorite meat pies. He’s been looking forward to that all week.

“I found a gaggle of students skipping class!” Crowley burst out, breaking their hug. Exaggerated distress turned his voice into a trill. “On Main Street, of all places! Before the very eyes of the most venerable Great Seven! They would surely be heartbroken to know that the children of today sullied the good name of Night Raven College!”

Raven tried to nod understandingly and pat his back. Quiet methods of coaxing him to let it all out

“Of course, I did my due diligence as headmaster of this esteemed institution and confronted the boys at once,” Crowley continued—puffing with a pinch of pride at the mention of his status before soon deflating. “Ooh, but I was so rudely rebuked!! The students ignored my very reasonable plea to return to class, then proceeded to ignore or insult me—ME!! Their beloved headmaster!

"Belittled and bullied by my very own pupils…" He sniffed loudly. "It’s a cruel fate, but someone has to discipline ignorant, misbehaving children--and so it fell upon my shoulders! I unleashed my Lash of Love upon them and deposited the hooligans back in Professor Trein's lecture!"

"You did what you could to resolve the situation, Uncle," Raven replied, her words carefully stroking his ego. "You are ever so magnanimous."

"I am, aren't I!" Crowley agreed. "Alas, a teacher's work is thankless! What has come of the younger generation?! And what have I done to deserve this kind of treatment? All I've ever done is work tirelessly to ensure that our Night Raven College provides high-quality education!"

"Well... You don't exactly command authority with your attitude or how you carry yourself. Truly, when most picture the archetype of a 'headmaster of an arcane academy', they tend to imagine someone... different. If you want to be perceived differently, it may help to present new parts of yourself to the students."

Like maybe actually doing your job instead of delegating tasks to teenagers and having them solve all your problems..

"Show them your strengths and good points," Raven suggested, "traits worthy of respect."

Crowley's beady, golden eyes suddenly lit up. They bore into Raven from the pitch-black holes in his mask.

"That’s it!" he declared, perking up. “If I’m to garner respect, I ought to try and demonstrate the true breadth of my kindness. Perhaps then they will take note of the power hierarchy and bend an ear to my commands!”

“Er, that’s not exactly what I meant…”

Crowley swept away from her, beginning to pace back and forth. A finger curled at his chin, his mind set in deep contemplation.

“The issue now is, how will I appear approachable to begin with? My visage is far too grand to tamp down, and I’m afraid my decades of wisdom are useless against accusations of being ‘old’ and ‘out of touch’!!“

Those comments really hit him hard, huh…

“Have you considered taking up a hobby instead of fixating on public opinion? It just may help you clear your thoughts.” Raven gestured at her desk. “I myself partake in writing as an outlet.”

In an instant, the headmaster was at her side. He nosily peered over his niece, practically leering down at the contents of her papers.

Stories that started with Once upon a times and then diverged, walking along a multitude of paths to endings yet to be determined. Heroes and villains and the people that supported them, coming together in grand casts. New places, new experiences, new feelings.

Connections, ways of bridging the gap between hearts.

“H-Hey…! I never said you could look. These are private projects,” Raven protested, hurrying to cover up her scripts.

Too late. A giddy shine had already risen to the headmaster’s eyes.

Oh no. I know that look!

“Dearest Raven,” Crowley cooed, a clawed hand finding its way onto her shoulder, “how generous of you to lend your assistance to your sad old uncle! Fufufu, it appears as though the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!"

"What are you on about now?" It slowly dawned on her, and she paled. “Don’t tell me…”

"This is the solution for my... I mean, our predicament!" Crowley lifted a paper and a waved it around like a triumphant flag. “Written word has the power to influence. With your help, we can conduct an interview, spread stories of my great kindness and power, sway the consensus!”

Ah, a coordinated PR strategy. Raven frowned. His usual fallback.

The trick would work on most people beyond the campus grounds, but not on the students within. Not when there was already a narrative in place: the tale of the carefree, bumbling, useless man at the helm of the school. Pitiable, easily kicked around. And there was some truth to it--truth that could only be twisted so far before it fell into the realm of outright fantasy.

Most did not realize how truly frightening a man cloaked by the shadows could be.

“I understand wanting to spruce up your image, but there is only so much that can do for you. People will believe what they want to believe, regardless of what new information is presented to them."

Raven sighed, picking her quill back up and dipping it in an inkwell. Rich black fluid, darker than the darkest night, rose up into the nib. She offered the writing implement to her guardian, who stared at it in confusion.

"If you want their views on you to change, that is something you will have to earn for yourself. The words must come straight from its source and be genuine."

“Raven-kun…”

She pressed the quill into Crowley’s palm.

From here on out, the story is up to you.

[trinketiers]

hey as it turns out i totally forgot to mention it here but i graduated art school last december (exactly one year ago on the 16th) !!!

it was a wild six years so here's an unorganized mess of some of my thoughts looking back at it:

The tldr of it: - enjoyed art school 👍 came out of it with wrist & thumb issues and debt 👎✌️ - i learned a lot of things that i wouldn't have sought out on my own, and so much of that information is still useful in varied ways now - also i'd say the most important thing i learned wasn't necessarily drawing/painting but moreso learning 'how to learn' (it was all an uphill battle though lol) - wish i put myself out there more with all the opportunities literally available in front of me but i was too scared and anxious. Regret. - would i recommend it? In general, no. Not unless 1) money isn't an issue. 2) you're serious and dedicated about working hard, otherwise its kind of a waste of time and money to just coast. And 3) if a competitive environment is something that works for u

----

I think there were a lot of eye opening experiences for me. like, something about being able to actively see how you and your classmates all learn and struggle and create, and that the hard work WILL pay off, even if its not instant, or within that same year, bc knowledge adds up over time… i think really helped my confidence(?) in trying and learning new things and failing a few times. Because i used to get so disheartened when i couldn't understand how to draw something, but now i feel like i have a better ability to problem solve why that may be. Or honestly, to just come back to it later instead of completely abandoning it!!

genuinely enjoy having my work critiqued now. I hated it at first bc it made me feel bad and i didn't know how to go about resolving my problems, but over time i realized that like. Literally all the critique i got were on things my own eye couldn't see until they were pointed out to me. And i feel like that was the point where i finally felt as if i was understanding what it meant to actually learn something. Or, i guess, i was learning how to learn lol. But i think that getting over the initial feelings that come with critique is, yeah it's hard, but it's really integral to improvement as well as to how you perceive your own work. failure doesn't equal not being able to do something, it just means if you can't do it now, come back and tackle it again from a fresh angle later ^_^ !!

buuut unfortunately that lightbulb moment happened… i think during the last two-ish years i was in school. Two years of classes from the six years i was there is…. its rough HDHFKGH i really ended schooling wishing i could retake some classes bc if i sat through them now, i feel like i would be able to learn deeper about the concept of something vs getting stuck at the first hurdle and struggling to catch up as the class kept moving forward. alas...

the constant struggle to keep up did end up in more all-nighters than i would have liked. i already had some wrist problems prior to art school so i already knew to give my hand regular breaks, but with all the work and deadlines it kind of became less and less important because i just wanted to get the work done. Uhhh well seeing as its been one whole year... yeah my wrist is still a little messed up LOL but i AM much more conscious about how i use it, both w/ art and just (unfortunately) every day life like lifting heavy things. but i am also (unfortunately) currently wary of applying to any jobs that may have a heavy workload, so it's definitely limiting + makes it a bit harder to break into the industry.

hmm. i actually really regret not participating in campus events/opportunities more. Things like studying abroad, joining a club, doing more workshops, or even joining gamejams, which always caught my eye when i saw the flyers looking for artists… but i was too intimidated. by.... my lack of knowledge 😔 (which is dumb btw bc the literal purpose of being in school is to LEARN).

I've never been super social either and i did lose contact w a lot of classmates when things went virtual for a year+ but the experience of being surrounded by people who are so passionate about the same things you are is unparalleled. Truly. And the friends i did keep are people i would love to keep in my life for a long time :')

also i really regret not branching and exploring outside of my major more while it was still relatively easy. When i started in 2018 i think there was a lot more freedom in being able to take classes in other fields so long as there were vacant spots in a class, and all you needed were a few signed approvals from the departments. But when i ended in 2023… like. Financial aid was no longer covering non-mandatory classes??? The last class i took was paid out of pocket bc i had already completed all my requirements smh. no clue if its still like that now though. but subjects like typography or shop class were very cool and i'm glad i took them when i had the chance.

-

Aaaaanyway. These are just my rambling unorganized thoughts about my personal experience at ArtCenter in California. If any prospective artists happens to be keyword searching and researching before applying (like i did LOL) then hi. Grain of salt and all—i had a decent experience overall (largely thanks to the people i was around and the teachers I was able to have) but its absolutely 100% not like that for everyone

And just for fun if anyone read down to this point, lets all point and laugh at past nikki for not being able to do one 4 hour art class while i regularly stacked two 5 hour classes into one day at art school:

[simonalkenmayer]

I remember being in the thralls of a manic episode and stumbling onto your blog and genuinely believing there are monsters out to get me and even my parents I was scared of thinking they where monsters. I had severe mental illness issues that your blog managed to worsen by giving me something as “proof” that I wasn’t crazy.

I am now on several medications and they help me make rational decisions and realize that monsters like you are not real. Actually your blog inspired an essay contest I entered where I talked about the real origins of the uncanny valley and won a scholarship for it and everything.

You need to realize that this “experiment” of yours takes advantage of the vulnerability of the mentally ill and can worsen symptoms. I was lucky that I managed to get onto meds and stay on them. I am fucking lucky that I didn’t do anything to harm myself in that time thinking I was being chased by human eating immortal monsters.

Alas your book has the woman’s name of the person who wrote the book and Simon(e) is a pen name made up by you. But your blog even if you do make money off patron and different people, you are also doing real harm to people who are mentally ill or experiencing psychosis or manic episodes.

So while you are a talented writer you are causing more harm then you may know. While I know that this little anon ask will lead to literally nothing and you will not change because you enjoy the attention, you should know that you hurt people though this.

I’m sorry you believed something you saw on the internet and became upset over it, but clearly if not the idea of monsters existing, it would have been something else. The root cause of the dysfunction, however, only became visible because of it manifesting in such a way, which led to your treatment and success, because you tackled it rather than running. Well done. You’ve been very proactive. I realize you didn’t come to thank me, but to accuse me of harming you.

I apologize for harm you may have suffered because of my actions. I’m not sure you’ve correctly aimed your emotions, but reality is about perception, and I’m fine with apologizing for even being perceived as hostile or upsetting. I suppose you didn’t read the materials I provided. Might have helped a bit.

May you find continued success. Please look into how social tests are constructed. I think you’ll find that experimental models are very unusual. You’ll find that studies, especially of larger survey based studies rely on participants to dismiss themselves. That is why disclaimers exist.

If you have ethical concerns about my methods, you’d better not ever open my refrigerator.

For reference, belief and knowledge compete with one another. You believed because you didn’t know. It was a choice. You sought out knowledge you trust, right or wrong. You worked the problem. Now you have an answer, rather than to believe. I hope it changes your reality in some meaningful way. Please still be careful in the woods. There are actually things in there that can hurt you.

Monsters are real. They are out to get you. And they look just like you. It’s critical thinking that helps you cope and learn how to think your way out of it.

Congratulations on your scholarship. Please feel free to sue me for more college expenses in the future if you need them. I’d love to personally appear in court for that occasion.

Edit: addition: I have not and never shall make money off this experiment. It has cost me many thousands of dollars. I have yet to see a cent. And as you can see, the book has been free in every form but the one that costs money to make. My experiment has been over for more than a year. My patreon is merely audio forms of the book which were asked for, and me doing fun things. People pay for my time. That’s how an economy works.

[ase-trollplays]

"Good evening, Florah! A pleasure to see you, as always. Have you come for your weekly garden assistance?"

"Hey, Tantor. I actually took care of that last night."

"Ah, splendid. How was your night of drunken Halloween shenanigating with Uunive? I trust you both had a lovely time."

"Yeah, it was great, actually. We went to a few different bars. ... Including a karaoke bar at the end. I never sing in front of people, but she, uh. She's an awesome hype woman."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Glad to hear you had such a delightful time! I hope this can be the start of you two becoming good friends. No need to be so skittish and scared around her after such a fun bonding experience, hm?"

"Y-yeah, I guess not. Anyways, um, have you seen Helixe? I want to teach it ASL since it doesn't really talk. I brought all the books I used when I was teaching myself, and I have a bunch of videos saved on my palmhusk, so--"

"Oh, how fun! I've honestly had the same idea, and I'm something of a language buff myself, you know. I have fluency in... twenty-five, I believe? I don't keep the best track, though ASL was the second one I learned. If you like, I would be honored to help!"

"Ah, well... I-I guess that's okay."

"You don't sound like it's okay. You sound and look incredibly put off by the idea, in fact."

"N-no, it's not that. I just kinda thought..."

"By all means, if I'm stomping on your toes, let me know. Clearly you don't want me intruding."

"I... yeah, I really don't. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be rude or mean. I know you want to help, but I'm still trying to figure out a place for myself here with Tuuya's other charges and their quads and friends, you know? After that night with Uunive, I want to try spending time with everyone else instead of being a weird outsider. Helixe feels like an easy starting point, plus I kinda helped create it? So it would be fucked up to avoid spending time with it."

"Yes, yes, of course. By all means, don't let me get in the way. And let me just say that I'm so, so proud of you!"

"Proud of me?"

"Yes, of course! From the night I've met you, you've been like a frightened rabbit scurrying away at the mere idea of putting yourself out there and being perceived. I can't imagine what must have happened to you to cause such a strong trauma response to meeting people-- Or maybe it's not trauma, and you're just like that! Regardless, the fact you're forcing yourself out of your little protective bubble and allowing others to know you is something to be praised! You're doing something wonderful and amazing for yourself, and I just know that everyone else would be proud of you, too."

"I-I, uhh. I guess that makes sense. Thanks."

"You are most welcome, and I'm rooting for you to continue making progress coming out of your shell. I promise we'd all love to meet you if you give us a chance."

"Right. ... So, about Helixe?"

"Hm? Oh right!! I believe it's with Uunive at the moment, probably somewhere in those tunnels that only those two fit in. Stick around long enough, and I'm positive you'll see them."

"Okay. I'll uh, see if there's anything I can help out with until then so I'm not just waiting around like a weirdo."

"Oh hush, you're no more of a weirdo than anyone else in Tuuya's found family. You're certainly more normal than I am. You're at least a troll!"

"... You're. You're not a troll??"

"You didn't know?"

"Wha-- No! How would I??"

"... Huh. I suppose that's a good point. I don't recall telling you, and Tuuya isn't the type to casually throw around personal details about other people. Didn't you think it was weird that my blood tastes so bad?"

"Well, yeah, but I figured-- I don't know what I figured! Are you a swarm, too?"

"Oh no, not at all, but wouldn't it be fascinating if I was? Alas, I'm just an ordinary immortal shapeshifting alien."

"None of that is ordinary!"

"Not from your perspective, I'd wager. I'm guessing you have questions?"

"Yeah, a lot!"

"Well, time is a bottomless resource of mine. At least, tonight it is since I'm not needed at the sanctuary. Fire away! Let the interrogation begin!"

[ruvviks]

if i were to. reblog a writing prompt ask thing. for cassidy. would people be inch rested in that at all

[leyyvi]

Bestie this is 100% because Im selfish and I wanna see ur nsfw art of Levi, but I am in favor of you making an account on the bird app (that is what twt is right? I’m not on it either lmao) definitely do what you want, and if other platforms are too spooky that’s fine, but like… Yknow?

eskhjfskjgh YEAAAh i'd post it on tumblr but i don't know how likely you are to get flagged for it so i didn't want to risk it. I'm mainly scared of twitter just because of how things can go spontaneously viral? I'm probably over thinking it but god forbid i fuck up in some way and get cancelled for smth i draw lol (idek if twt is even like this anymore tho) but alas this could also just be my fear of being perceived outside of the tumblr sphere rearing its ugly ass head again dsfghfgl

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

love me love me (say that you love me) - spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

title from lovefool by the cardigans 

summary: after a close brush with death in the field, y/n visits an injured spencer in the hospital to have a heart to heart.

warnings: a lil bit of angst, fluff bc im incapable of writing pure angst, descriptions of injury

word count: 1,987 

notes: this is my submission for @veraiconcos​‘ fic writer challenge, i spent a super long time on this and i really hope you guys enjoy it as its one of my favorite things i’ve ever written ☺️

********************

settling in to what would be another evening of unfortunate, unwanted solitude due to your boyfriend having yet another late night at work, you stretched out across the sofa, wine glass in hand, ready to relax after a hard day’s work.

that was until your phone began to ring and vibrate obnoxiously across the wooden coffee table.

“jj? hi, what’s up?” you inquired, curious as to why she was calling you during a case.

“we got the guy, but spence wasn’t so lucky.” she began hesitantly. “he almost got shot, but he was stabbed a few times.”

she heard your stifled gasp through the speaker, cutting you off before you would inevitably begin rambling off questions, a habit of spencer’s you’d acquired after a long while of knowing him. “don’t worry, he keeps telling everyone he’s fine. doctor says the wounds might scar, but overall he should be alright.”

you scrunched your eyes closed, willing your racing heart to slow with the news that spencer would be okay. despite jj’s calming tone and the relatively good news from the call, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that your boyfriend was not, in fact, okay.

“thanks, babe. would you mind telling me where you guys are? am i allowed to come visit?” your voice took on a hopeful tone that your hands betrayed, anxiously twirling a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun.

“visiting hours ended a little while ago, but i’m sure i can pull a few strings for you.” your chest deflated with a relieved sigh at the thought of having visual confirmation spencer would be fine. “i just texted you the address, see you soon, y/n.”

“you too. bye,” the phone dropped onto the table with a hollow clatter. you downed what little was left in your wine glass before standing up from the sofa to get ready. you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with spencer so you put in an extra bit of effort to wear some of his favorite pieces of clothing of yours, just to bring a smile to his face.

———————————————

after receiving special clearance from jj at the front desk, you headed down the hallway. you never liked hospitals; you found something about about the stark white, sterile halls cold and off putting.

the door slowly opened, a gentle creak emanating from its well-used hinges. you had hoped your entrance would be quiet enough to let the boy wonder rest, but alas, he had woken up.

though the way his irises glistened in the artificial light when he saw you was just as gratifying.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” the interrogative sounded less like a question and more like an exclamation of awe, but you weren’t complaining.

“what, you didn’t think i’d show up when a little birdie told me my boyfriend was stabbed on duty? some girlfriend i’d be,” you scoffed sarcastically.

the plastic legs of the chair skidded across the linoleum as you dragged it next to the bed. spencer held out a hand towards you to hold, a sure fire sign something was wrong.

he loved affection, especially from you, but he only seemed to initiate it on blue moons.

you gratefully slipped your fingers in between his and gave them a quick, reassuring squeeze. “what happened, hon?”

his amber hues flicked to several spots around the relatively uninteresting room before landing on your intertwined digits. “we raided his apartment just like we usually do and i happened to be the first one to come across him. i saw he had a gun and i’m lucky i ducked pretty quickly or else i might not even be here at all.

“morgan and i moved in on him to make the arrest, but it slipped our minds that the profile said he was hyper-vigilant and paranoid, and i failed to notice knife he had in his other hand and he stabbed me a few times before emily pulled him away from me.” spencer recalled with an expertise that came as a surprise to absolutely no one who knew him.

“you say that like you’re reciting a poem,” you frowned, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “you could’ve died, spence.”

“i guess it’s just not that big of a deal to me?” he seemed to question his own statement as it passed through his lips. “i think i’ve grown so accustomed to putting my life on the line that i just doesn’t even faze me anymore.”

“i get it, but don’t you ever - i don’t know - get worried you won’t come back to me one of these days?” you averted your eyes to the floor.

his grip on your hand tightened exponentially, causing your gaze to snap up to his. “of course i do, i worry about you all the time. isn’t it normal to worry about the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

his admission of love brought heat to your cheeks and tears to your eyes. “good, good, i’m glad we both agree on that then.” you smiled sadly.

the presence of an oddly heavy silence weighed down on both of you as you sat in thought. “do you ever get tired, y/n?” the genius queried quietly, elaborating when he noticed the confusion etched across your features. “i mean - well - tired of me? of my life being on the line every time i go to work? of thinking that maybe that time you said goodbye to me when i left would be the last time? doesn’t that exhaust you?”

this was exactly what you had been anticipating since jj called. the drawn-out periods of unusual silence, less eye contact than normal, the anxious fidgeting. not that you’d tell him, but you’d subtly began subconsciously profiling as well. 

  “if you’re asking if i get tired of those things, then yes, i do,” you murmured softly. “but if you’re asking if being with you while i have to deal with all those things is exhausting, then my answer is no. absolutely not.”

another pause. spencer played with your fingers, fiddling around with the ring he’d bought for you as fond memories swirled through his mind. “wouldn’t it be easier if you were with someone else? i don’t know, maybe someone with an average career where they don’t look at dead bodies and arrest serial killers all the time? maybe a barista or something less traumatizing than what i do?”

your lips curled up into a smile as you giggled. “yeah, i mean, of course that’d be easier, but when has life ever been easy? and besides, why would i want a barista when i could have a badass, genius iq level guy like you?”

he grinned, holding eye contact for the longest period of time since you passed through the door. “i think those attributes directly contradict each other, but whatever makes you happy, love.” 

the tension had lifted, conversation flowing with ease, yet you could still tell there was something off about reid. something left unspoken.

“hey,” you murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “you sure you’re alright?”

a moment of hesitation flickered through his eyes before he answered. “of course i am. didn’t i say i was?”

“you did, but you don’t have the best track record when it comes to being honest about your emotions.” you watched several emotions pass through his eyes - one of his tells; those hazel hues could be read like a book.

he seemed to take a deep, collective inhale before he spoke in a small voice. “i know you said you weren’t tired of me, but i’m just scared you’re lying. n-not that i think you would ever be untruthful,” he immediately corrected himself upon understanding how his words could be perceived.

“i-” tears brimmed his coffee colored optics, terrifying you for what he might say next. “you’re the most important thing in my life- in the world even- and i’m just worried you’ll leave me. i’ll come home one night when you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this life and you have all your bags packed, ready to leave. i don’t want to lose you. i can’t lose you.”

noticing a few drops had landing on your lap, you realized you’d been crying as he admitted his insecurities to you. “i love you so much, spencer. more than anything in the world. and i know how hard it is to quiet those voices, and i know whatever i say will only be enough to quell them for a while, but you’re everything to me. just know i would never, ever even dream of leaving you.”

you sniffled, wiping the tear tracks from your face when you looked over to spencer. he held eye contact with you, something you knew was challenging for him to do.

“y/n,” he moved a hand to cup your cheek. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

you let his words sink in and nodded nearly imperceptibly. you laid a kiss on his palm before turning to him again. “absolutely. i am wholly and completely devoted to you, spencer reid.”

his cheeks burned and his brows furrowed, almost as if he was having trouble accepting your straightforward answer. “do you promise?”

you debated a sarcastic response, but you were unsure what his reaction might be in such a vulnerable state, and you didn’t want to find out.

“i do, my love.” you murmured, crossing your pinky with his. he settled, visibly, too, at your admission of adoration. you knew he struggled with fully trusting those around him and you were immeasurably proud of him in this moment.

“are you heading home?” his soft lilt broke the silence that had blanketed the room with its persistent presence. “i wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

“are you kidding? after all that rom-com sappiness you think i want to leave?” you both laughed, basking in the positivity of the moment. “i’m afraid you’re stuck with me. look, i even brought a change of clothes and everything.”

while you loved the adorable look of surprise on his face, you almost wished you could wipe away any doubts he may harbor in his mind about you and your unwavering loyalty. you looked up at him again as he spoke. “are you going to sleep in that chair?”

“i’d lay with you, but you’ve got wounds everywhere and no way in hell am i risking re-opening anything that’s been sealed.” you held your hands up in mock defense, earning a chuckle from the doctor.

“you could, um, put your head on my chest,” his cheeks tinted pink. “i love it when you do that.” you planted a quick kiss on his cheekbone before pressing a longer one to his lips.

every time your lips met, as cliched as it was, it felt like the first again. not in every way, they were missing the same awkward teeth clashing and spit swapping as the original, but you could almost feel every ounce of passion jolting all the way through your being. and most assuredly, spencer reciprocated your feelings as he chased your lips every single time they made to retreat from his.

you pulled the chair as close to the hospital bed as you could and rested your head on his chest. the lyrical, constant beat of spencer’s lulled you to sleep, creating a symphony just for you.

before your eyes closed, you intertwined spencer’s fingers with yours, prompting him to look down at you. “i’ve got promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep.”

though he knew it was medically impossible, spencer reid’s heart leapt a mile in his chest at the irrevocable love he felt for you, both in that moment and always as he completed the line, “and miles to go before i sleep.”

********************

guys wait i think this is the first ending i’ve written that i actually enjoy and i just finished this at 1am last night and i am so sleep deprived

please let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!! 

tags: @sojournmichael @stinkyelf​ @crazyfore3​ @cal-ifornication​ @eggygorl02​ @howdycharlie​ @eosprincess​ @mortallythoughtfulgurl​ @illuxions-x​ @unlikelyempathpruneauthor​ @blankets-for-bees​ @holycandypizza​ @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel​ @lovelyrdjr​ @minnie-bby​ @fantastic-fans​ @ashwarren32​ @rexorangecouny​ @elitereid​ @keomoon​ @achieveonyourown​ @whogirl7​ @jjtheangel​ @carol-danvers-wife​

[littlepotatowizard]

Dandelion Seeds

A/N: Oh, this is the first time that I’ll be posting a fanfic after a long time. Hope this turns out good ‘cause I’m running on angsty music and 3 cups of coffee right now (I’m going for a fourth cup, just watch me) lol.

Edit: Link for Part 2

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah, sweet dandelions. Always waiting for the wind to take you with it aren’t you? 

A lone boy sat on the edge of a rock in Starsnatch Cliff. Lyre in hand, soft notes flow out of the instruments, singing of a melody in the days past. As the notes are plucked on the delicate strings of the lyre, the wind surrounding the figure gently picked up, seemingly trying to pass on the melody to a distant land. 

The melody, which brought peace on the area, slowly comes to a decrescendo, signaling the coda, was halted by a high-pitched squeal. The boy, startled by the noise, plucked the wrong string that caused him to wince. 

‘Well, so much for peace, I suppose?’ He thought as he tried to look for the source of the distraction. Looking down from his perch, he spotted a young girl running away from a group of Hillichurls. Seeing how terrified the girl was, he leapt from his place in an inhuman height. Observing the distance between the girl and the monsters, he landed with great force in their midst, startling both parties. 

“Hey, I don’t know what she did for you to chase her out, but will you stop it? She’s so young and she’s already scared enough.” He told the monsters as he stand in indignation. This was met with angered snarls and growls. Sighing in exasperation, he summoned his lyre. This action of his was perceived as a threat by the Hillichurls which caused them to charge at him. 

With an elegant strum on the strings, a small, but strong whirlwind was created and took the monsters in its swirling torrents, sweeping them away from the two. A sound of awe was heard in the forest and the boy faced the young girl. 

“That was awesome Mister! Thank you for saving me!” The young girl said as she bows in gratitude. The boy deduced that she must be an outsider from Mondstadt based on her gestures. 

“You’re welcome! But, you see, this area is dangerous to be alone in. Where are your parents?” He said in a friendly voice so as to lessen the girl’s fright. The young girl gently shook her head and faced him with a carefree smile. 

“I don’t have my parents right now, We are just visiting from Liyue! I have my Grandma right now.” She said, her smile brightening. “What is your name, Mister?” She asked with a tilt of her head. The boy laughed at the enthusiasm of the girl before him. “My name is Venti and I’m the best bard of Mondstadt! How about you? What’s your name?” 

“My name is Nozomi!” 

---

After rescuing Nozomi from the Hillichurls, Venti took it upon himself to bring her back to Mondstadt. While on their way to the walled city, he learned the reason as to why she was all alone in the forest. 

“We we’re on the way to the city when I asked my grandma about the glowing round flowers.” She started while happily picking a stray pinecone on the base of a tree. “She said that they are Dandelions. When you blow on them, the flowers are then scattered in the wind together with its seeds.” Venti hummed, urging her to continue. 

“Grandma picked one and showed me. When she gently blew on it, the flowers fly into the air and I asked her if we can get some more,” She then picked up a couple of carefully plucked dandelions to show him. “But Grandma said that there are more in Mondstadt. When we arrived, she asked me to wait in a restaurant called “Good Hunters” while she goes to meet someone...” Her voice grew slowly quieter and she started to fumble on her blue dress. 

“She promised that she’ll go with me but it was so long so...” She trailed off. Venti sighed shook his head. 

“-so you decided to go on your own?” He finished. Nozomi timidly nod her head. Venti noticed her crestfallen expression and felt a gentle smile work its way on his face. 

“Worry not now, young one! I, Venti. the greatest bard in Mondstadt and in all of Teyvat, will get you back with your beloved Grandma!” He said joyously, in hopes of making the young girl smile again. Nozomi looked up at him with happiness dancing in her eyes. 

“Thank you, Venti! You’re the greatest bard in all of Teyvat!” She declared as they both laughed and hurried to the city. 

---

It was already dusk when they entered the city’s gates. A frantic woman awaits on the stairs leading up to the plaza. Venti recognized the woman and called Nozomi to follow him. The woman, who noticed the bard, let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, lord Barbatos, thank goodness that you found her, Venti!” the woman said as she rushed to them. Venti, in return, smiled gently as he took Nozomi from behind him to bring her before the woman. 

“Do not worry, Sara. She is safe, although, it is in good graces that I found her. I found her in Starsnatch, being chased by Hillichurls.” At this, Sara’s face drains of color. She immediately kneeled to the girl and checked her for any injuries. 

“Miss Sara, I’m okay! Mister Venti saved me from the monsters with his powers!” Nozomi said with a toothy smile. Sara shook her head slowly at the statement. 

“Nozomi, please do not do that again. Your Grandma was worried when I told her that you snuck out.” Sara told her while leading them to a table and offers them Radish Veggie Soup and Sticky Honey Roast. Both Venti and Nozomi marveled at the delicious foods laid in front of them, the scent wafting through the air and enticed their hungry stomachs. Sara softly laughed at their antics. 

“Please eat up! I know that walking all the way from Starsnatch to Mondstadt must have been quite a trip!” She said as she turns to Venti. “Again, I am truly grateful to you, Venti. Thank you for bringing her back. Her Grandma will be delighted once she comes back.” Venti looked at her and saluted while his cheeks are stuffed akin to a squirrel. 

The night was then filled with laughter and perhaps a choking sound from a certain hungry bard. 

---

Alas, after eating their fill, Venti prepared to leave, as he needs to visit a place before the night gets too deep. Nozomi gently tugged on his green cape with a look of wonder and expectation in her eyes. 

“Mister Venti, will I see you again?” She asked with an eager smile on her face. Venti mirrored her expression and tapped his chin in a contemplative gesture. The anticipation of the girl for his answer was broken by his gleeful laugh as he messed her hair. 

“Perhaps! Maybe the winds will allow us to meet again!” He said and placed his hands on his hips. “But for now, I must go! You see, the greatest bard of Teyvat never rest!” Venti laughed as Nozomi repeats with a ‘Yes! The Greatest Bard indeed!’. Venti bid his farewell to his newly found friend and headed to the place he goes to when he needs to think. 

---

“Took you long enough.” 

A voice greeted him as he neared the enormous tree in Windriser. He gently laughed and held out his hand to the elderly woman waiting on the steps of the Anemo Archons’ statue beneath the tree. The elderly woman took his hand and allowed him to lead her up to the base of the tree. 

“I will lift us up, do not loosen your grip okay?” He asked, even with full knowledge that the woman trusts him fully with her life. 

“As if I will let go, you mischievous bard!” She quipped. Venti chuckled as he summoned a gentle gust of wind that lifted them up to one of the tree’s branches. When they reached it, Venti gently allowed the woman to settle down on it before doing so himself. 

They did not speak a single word for a while, allowing the breeze from falcon coast to sway the leaves and create its own natural tune. The peace and quiet washing over their being. 

“It seems life has been quite good on you huh, [Y/N]?” Venti started. He heard the woman beside him softly laugh at his words. He looked at her quizzically, puzzled as to why she is laughing. 

“Is that your idea of a heartfelt greetings to me, Barbatos?” Upon hearing his name and the jest she threw at him, he sputtered and looked at his side, rubbing the back of his head. 

“W-well, you see...we did not particularly end in good terms and um-” he frantically said, which caused more laughter from the woman. 

“You are still the same, huh?” [Y/N] nostalgically murmured as she closes her eyes to enjoy the gentle breeze passing the tree once more. This caught Venti’s attention as he focuses his sight on her. Her face radiates peace and the happiness of reminiscence. “All of the things that happened before are beyond me now. I understand you and-” she paused, looking at him with gentleness in her eyes. Gentleness that was brought by the wisdom and the years she lived through. 

“I am sorry, only thinking of how much it hurts me, but not how much it hurts you more...” [Y/N] said quietly. 

Ah yes, that day is still fresh in his mind, for it happened in this very place too. 

///

‘Forgive me, [Y/N]...’ A silent plea resonated, hoping to reach the crying woman’s ears. 

Her pained, choked sobs pierces his heart like a hot knife. He cannot bear to hear her be in pain. He badly wants to craddle her to his arms, kiss all her pain away, vanquish all her tears and sing to her all the songs that he can conjure for he loves her,  but he cannot. If he allowed himself to, then, he will not be able to keep her away. 

‘Venti... why? Am I not good enough? Please tell me the very reason...’ She quietly asked, her teary eyes persisting on focusing to his beautiful aqua ones. Once the color of her favorite clear skies, now riddled with storm and unsure. 

‘I cannot hold you back selfishly...” Venti kneeled in front of her touching her cheeks softly, caressing her tears. His eyes looked at her with gentleness, though she can see pain beneath it. “You have so much for you. I am an immortal. I can live for so long, but you cannot. I-I cannot just hold you back from all the things life can offer that I cannot give to you...’ He told her as new tears welled up in her eyes. 

‘I can experience it all with you. All I want in life is you. You are more than enough for me. You... you are my happiness. My light.... please do not push me away from you, my Love...’ [Y/N] reached to touch his cheeks, trying to hold her lover’s face again. Her actions are desperate. She does not want to lose him like this. 

‘I promised you, no matter what, I will always love you, even at the very last of my mortal breath.’ [Y/N] said firmly, reminding him of the vow she gave him years ago at Starsnatch. 

Her words seems to have reached him as his face briefly flashed in reminiscence, but it was quickly washed over by seriousness as he shakes his head. 

‘I also promised you that I will do everything that I can to give you the life you deserve...’ These words of his made [Y/N]’s heart clench in dread. She knows his next words. 

‘But this is not the life you deserve. You should be out in the world, experiencing things and not be stuck here with me. Your time is counted, therefore you should be able to do what you want and not be held back in here just because of me.’ He told her as he touch his forehead with hers, lovingly caressing her hair and silently engraving the scent of it in his memory for probably the very last time. 

‘Is-is that it? J-just because I am mortal?’ [Y/N]’s question startled him. He looked at her in shock. 

“No! I- you misunderstand-’ ‘I do!’ [Y/N] moved away from him, removing his hands from her cheek. 

‘I do, Barbatos.’ His name was uttered with so much venom, it may as well kill his heart. ‘What can a mere mortal, such as I, offer an Archon like you? Love? Ha! Mondstadt’s people already love you. What is one compared to a city?’ [Y/N] said bitterly as she stood up, jumping from the tree branch that they were previously perched on. 

‘If you just wanted me gone before I expire, you should have directly told me.’  Venti tried to reach out to her as she began walking. The wind picked up, perhaps a reflection of the bitter end of their love and romance. 

‘Farewell, lord Barbatos’ 

///

After the remembrance of their bitter past, Venti reached out to hold her hand and looked at her with gentle, loving eyes. 

“I know, and it is past me too... I’m glad that you found your happiness now. She’s an energetic child, like you before.” He said with a knowing look at his eyes. [Y/N] laughed, unsurprised that he immediately found out. 

“Yes, yes she is. A rambunctious little flower. She probably took after her Grandfather...” Venti’s grip on her hand slightly tightened. His heart clench a little, but hid all his pain with a smile. 

“He’s a good man. He thinks of others before himself. Loving and selfless...” Unspoken words are left to the wind as they both understand the meaning. Venti caressed her hand gently as he watched the cranes beneath the tree. 

“I am glad you gave love another chance. It is all I wished for you, after that day...” He said as he longingly looked at the distance. Pushing down all the feelings that wants to resurface. 

“Do not give me that look!” [Y/N] said as she pinched Venti’s cheeks, stretching it slightly that makes him look like a squirrel. “Come on, I’m old now. Find someone your age, Old man.” She quipped at him, poking fun of his actual age which caused him to chuckle. 

“Then I am still qualified then!” He said with laughter in his voice. [Y/N] narrowed her eyes on him and flicked his forehead. 

“Seriously, no. You don’t.” She said sternly, sighing inwardly at the bard’s quiet laughter. 

“Venti, I am close to my sunset days.” She started. Her words silenced him as he held her hands once again while looking at the distance. 

“I know.” He said in reverie. His grip on her hand slowly tightening. 

“I know, but my love stays the same.” He declared “Maybe in the next life, we will meet again.” Venti looked at her with a knowingly sad smile. 

“When that time comes, I will never let you go again.”

[Y/N] smiled at him gently, a friendly smile that wishes to see him again. 

“Well, then, when I pass on, may I request one thing so that I can find my way back to you again?” She requested. Venti’s eyes widened with wonder and a questioning look on his face, but urged her to continue, fully willing to do whatever it is. She gestured for him to come closer to whisper her request. 

---

A day like any other greeted most of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, well except for a girl in black. Her face was covered by a black veil, her hands holding onto a velvet pouch. The people of Mondstadt who passes by her gave her sympathetic looks to which she nods at in recognition. She was mourning, but glad that the people around her were there beside her. Helping her move on slowly, but surely. 

As she was about to pass the plaza, the guards near the main gate pointed at something approaching. The people become alerted and awaited whatever is going to rush through their city. But all of their apprehension and panic was washed over by amazement and wonder. 

A strong gust of wind led thousands of dandelion seeds through the city, filling it with its sweet aroma. 

The girl opened her velvet bag and took out its contents: an anemo vision and a dandelion necklace. She smiled at the contents and clutched them to her heart. 

---

Sat atop the hands of the statue of Barbatos, Venti looked over the scene with a loving, gentle smile on his face as he strums his lyre, playing a sweet love song. 

“Do not take long, okay?” 

///

‘What is your request and why do you want to whisper it?’ he playfully asked her. [Y/N] laughed and urged him close. 

‘Well, when I pass on, go back to the Cathedral and then...’ Venti hummed to let her continue. 

“Let the wind carry all the Dandelions to lead me back to you.” 

[intelligentdumbass]

My Sweet Prince (2.0)

“What do you do when you’ve done all that there is to do? When you’re too bored to do nothing and yet too tired to do something? When you want to talk but at the same time not?

Well, everyone knows I love to sing and, in times like those just described, I prefer to only sing to myself; to sit in the forest and play my cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

…

It was a morning like any other, or at least it was supposed to be.

There was a prince, Hyacinthus, who had set off with his dogs to go hunt in the wooded outskirts of his kingdom. I imagined him to be confused, for it must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold; the trees nothing but silence for hours and hours on end. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, when he and his hounds managed to catch a scent, it was accompanied by a song, and the voice was not of a bird’s. It led them into a small clearing and instead of drawing his bow, the hunter froze.

There was, in the middle, what he perceived to be a fair maiden strumming on their lyre; golden hair shimmering under the sunlight as a wide range of animals sat around them. The young man was entranced, and so were his dogs, so for a while he just stared until the musician finally decided to acknowledge the new addition to their audience.

The notes slowly faded but, before the singer could say a word, Hyacinthus snapped out of it and spoke first.

“I’m sorry miss but… Who the hell are you?” He slowly approached, cautious of all the critters. “What in Zeus’ name is a lass like you doing out here of all places?”

I raised an eyebrow, but I decided to play along. “Oh you know… boredom.”

“I assume your father’s somewhere close by, then.” He glanced around, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh no, I came here to have some me time with myself.”

Hyacinthus looked dismayed. “Not even a brother, cousin, or a friend?”

I shook my head; he frowned.

“It’s not safe to be all alone out here.” He insisted. “As a prince, it is my duty to protect-”

And alas, it was in that moment that he had accidentally stepped on the tail of a lion. Fortunately, a second later, a silver arrow rushed by; barely missing the young man and piercing the cat’s heart. The rest of the animals took this as a sign to scram.

Hyacinthus blinked, and muttered a silent prayer to the god of archery. Ironically, this is what he said immediately after:

“See my point? Come on, I’ll escort you back.”

He reached his hand out to assist me, but only got a punch to the face in response. As he staggered back I took the opportunity to speak in my normal, deeper voice.

“Really??”

Needless to say, the mortal was mortified. Gazing into my sapphire eyes, he suddenly understood. He hastily tried to get his shit together, smiling in embarrassment.

“A-” “Apologies my lord. I suppose you’re just… that enchanting.”

I scanned him from head to toe. My instincts told me he wasn’t lying; it wasn’t merely empty flattery. “Hm��� I suppose you’re not that bad yourself.”

“Ah well, of course! I’m Sparta’s heir after all.” He proudly exclaimed. “Still though, I am, uh terribly sorry for interrupting your song-”

“Save your apologies; it’s fine. I’m not going to smite you for that.” I sat down and placed the cithara back on my lap. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay if you so desire. I won’t mind.”

“But you said you wanted some time alone?”

“Away from the other gods, I mean.”

Hyacinthus was reluctant, but his puppers seemed eager to hear me continue my song.

“…alright. Only for a bit, if that’s okay with you, Lord Phoebus.” He said, sitting next to me; the dogs following suit. I suppose he had nothing better to do. Then again, how could he?

I smiled. “Please, just call me Apollo.”

Unbeknownst to Hyacinthus a ‘bit’ was quite the understatement. It was like time itself ceased to exist, and for once that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Soon the sun was setting and the prince was leading his pack back to the palace. I chose to stay. It was then that the west wind materialized before me.

“I was just passing by, so here’s a quick tip.” Zephyr murmured. “If I were you, I’d restrain myself. He’s already caught the eyes of two other gods and one mortal.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” A smile crept its way onto my lips.

“…what’s with that look?” He frowned; I said nothing as the god slowly fizzled out into thin air.

Hyacinthus had invited me to go out and hunt with him!

As expected of two skilled hunters, the trip went exceptionally well. Still, as we sprinted through the trees, I couldn’t help but sense the eyes of someone else; immediately knowing who it was. If Hyacinthus knew too, then he merely chose to ignore that suspiciously strong scent of spring. Still, I had a little sympathy for the intruder. The prince was easy to like, and I’m sure many have fallen for his bodily charms alone.

When we paused for a break, I said:

“Has anyone ever made a move on you before?”

Hyacinthus froze; I held in a chuckle. It was easy to see his attempt at holding my hand just as the question was asked.

“At least three other men have, but I’ve rejected them all.” He then quickly added, “That isn’t to say I’m only into woman though!”

I laughed. “Having trouble finding the right one?”

He stared a bit before suddenly grinning. “…Who knows, for all I know, I already have.”

My answer was a line I’ve paraphrased a hundred times. “Because I’m smart, talented, and very hot?”

“Maybe.” He inched closer. “But it’s also because of, or rather, how you smile.”

That response was a little… refreshing. A faint flush of red spread around my cheeks as I flashed a smirk, probably further proving his point. Then in the blink of an eye he leaned in; a hand holding my chin and his murmurs softer than any other breeze against my ear.

“May I?”

He only got a kiss in response.

However, even when the hunt was over and he was already making his way back home, I couldn’t help but… follow him back to Sparta, if only for a bit.

Turns out, Hyacinthus had showed up to his training with hundreds of flowers still intricately woven into his hair. It was hilarious how everyone else looked too scared to comment; well, except for Thamyris.

“What in the actual fuck?” He exclaimed.

“Okay, short version is: I fell asleep during the break after the hunting trip, so now there are a bunch of flowers in my hair.”

“Out of all of your suitors, you chose a god; hell, not just that, one of the fucking Olympians.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

I grinned, but then the other said: “Marpessa wouldn’t.”

…

Hyacinthus sighed. “Look, we all have our own preferences. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“As if.” He turned around, about to leave. “Just don’t come back crying to me when shit goes downhill.”

I… suppose you could say that Thamyris had the kind of arrogance that reminded me of Marsyas. They both dabbled in music too. Hopefully he doesn’t end up making the same mistake that the satyr did. Thankfully, the prince seemed to be trying to ignore him.”

  “…You know you could’ve just said “Sorry I’m late, I stalked my date.”” Athena raised an eyebrow; yet her voice carried not a single trace of annoyance. Doing their father’s paperwork was a task she was well accustomed too, and a very boring one at that.

“Hey! For the record I didn’t stay any longer after that conversation he had with Thamyris. Plus, it’s not every day that I almost forget about my duties. I figured you’d want a thorough explanation.”

“Well, as long as it isn’t too thorough.”

The god laughed. “Oh wait, shit-” “What was I doing again?” His eyes scanned the documents he forgot he was holding.

The goddess sighed. There was but one thought in her mind.

‘This is going to start happening much more often now, isn’t it?’

And she was right.

A few days later, Hermes was swiftly flying through the halls until he stopped in front of the studio’s door. He carefully pushed it open, but despite being the lord of communication, he couldn’t utter a single word.  

It was late in the evening, and his brother wasn’t alone.

Apollo was sitting down, writing on a scroll, and behind him was a mortal curiously peering over his shoulder. Then the boy moved closer, and wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist; tenderly whispering sweet nothings into his ear. To Hermes’ surprise, Apollo allowed himself to be pried away from his research.

The younger god decided to just slowly close the door.

Athena was right and apparently she didn’t seem to mind.

--------------

Thamyris wasn’t the only one with a complaint.

Hyacinthus was sitting under a cypress tree; trying to practice playing the lyre his lover had gifted him, when the breeze whispered into his ear.

“Look at it.” He said. “Your reflection in the water.”

The prince raised an eyebrow, but he glanced into the stream in front of him anyway. The top of his head was adorned with all sorts of flowers, no doubt due to the breath of the west wind.

“Hm… I think I liked it better when Apollo did it.”

Zephyr frowned; materializing seated down on his left.

“You’re not giving me a chance-”

“Except he already did.” Apollo sighed, suddenly appearing on Hyacinthus’ right. “For fates’ sake, take a hint and go blow someone else.”

The other god glared, but gave in, yet not before yelling something on a whim.

“So in one of the few times a mortal catches my fancy, you, who have already had many, get to have him instead?” He suddenly stood up. “You’re as greedy and insatiable with your lovers as you are with your domains.”

Apollo said nothing as the god disappeared into the wind.

Hyacinthus surprised him with a hug from behind.

“His argument is invalid. This isn’t just your choice, but mine as well.”

Still, after months and months of general bliss, the prince couldn’t help but ask:

“Those laurel wreaths you wear; they mean a lot to you, don’t they?”

The god felt his chest hurt. “Well, of course; there are many reasons as to why I care about them, one of them being that they remind me of something I shouldn’t ever forget because I don’t want to make a mistake like that ever again.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he continued.

“Hyacinthus?”

“Yeah?”

“Never doubt my feelings for you, okay?”

“I never did.”

“…even so, you really must know that, because of you, right now is the best I’ve ever felt in literal decades.”

“Oh don’t flatter me, sunshine.”

“You know I can’t lie. So really, trust me when I say that I’m here to stay.”

Hyacinthus’ eyes darted around the room as the musician’s head rested on his lap; the prince’s fingers twirling around in his golden locks. The floor was littered with paintings and marble statues of varying shapes and sizes scattered all over.

“Something caught your eye?” Apollo said as he saw his lover look at a painting of Crete. “You can take one of them home if you’d like.”

“Oh-” “Oh no it’s fine, really! I was just… enjoying the scenery.”

“Hm, you know I can take you there myself, right? Oooooh, imagine! A tour around Greece with yours truly.”

The boy smiled. His gaze shifted from a painting of Delphi to some art work of Leto, then Artemis, then Zeus, Athena and the rest of the other heavenly gods.

What he stared at the most were the ones next to those works about the Muses and the Thriae.

The names were many, Admetus, Cyrene, Branchus, Hecuba, Helenus… then there was Cassandra, Daphne, and an unfinished Coronis, and as he continued to look, the prince could’ve sworn he felt the god gently squeeze his hand.

“Everything alright, my Phoebus?”

The god smiled. “I’m just… tired.”

The prince leaned to give him a reassuring kiss.

Two years, or at least, about two years, their laughter almost lasted for about two years.

Alas, what’s two years in the life of an immortal that can never die?

--------------

Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.

“I hate how I can still feel a-” “and remember every single…”

Hermes was never good at these kinds of talks. “You wanna let it all out?”

Apollo sighed, carefully breathing in and then breathing out; repeating that process for a good minute.

Ai, ai, ai-

...

 “It was a morning like any other, or at least, it was supposed to be.

The prince was an athletic young man, much like us, and there were many things that were done on the field. One of them involved the discus. He’d always try to run and catch the disc once I had sent it hurling into the air.

…

The crack echoed- no, roared, and my body screamed like every bone in my system had snapped a hundred times over.

I was by his side in an instant, cradling him in my arms until he was nothing more than a poor flower that had broke its stem; all due to the breath of the west wind.

It was so… quiet and I was so close; close enough that I could feel him go, like I could reach out and grasp his hand to prevent his soul from drifting away. I felt it all: the desperate breaths, the steady weakening of his heart and that last flutter of his eyelids as he looked at me, as scared and overwhelmed as I was with all that was happening and yet I-

I still failed. I’m the god of healing and medicine and I was right there, I was so close and he still managed to slip away!

If only he could take me with him too.

It was like time itself ceased to exist, the exact second that last spark of life faded into the depths of Hades repeating on and on and on, again and again and again-

…

My arms were hugging a lump of ice by the time Artemis found me.”

 “…I heard you tried to murder Zephyrus?”

 “W-” “Well... I think I recall hearing father’s voice when I had rushed into the halls.

“Athena, Apollo’s neglecting his duties.” He said. “When was the last time you saw him walk into Olympus?”

“Give him some more time and I’m sure he’ll-”

It was then that someone, the bastard himself, had noticed me.

“Fear not my lord.” Zeus’ old messenger, the west shit, proudly exclaimed. “He’s already here!”

And indeed I was, fingers stained with crimson red; purple petals falling out of my hair.

A smile crept its way onto Zephyr’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

Needless to say, I immediately started chasing him with my bow.”

 “And then Athena stopped you, right?”

 --------------

It must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold for our winged eavesdropper. Apollo had a blank look in his eyes and Athena was standing in his way; Zephyr a little further down the hall behind her, curiously peaking over the corner.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Hermes was a lizard hiding inside of a jar.

“Athena, move.”

“Apollo,” Surprisingly, the goddess was perfectly calm. “Father has already retired him as his personal messenger, and he is now going to serve under Eros to repent for the very stupid thing he did in ‘the name of love’.”

“It’s not enough-”

“I know, and it’s never going to be enough.” Then she muttered. “Look, what happened with Pallas was much more justifiable than what this idiot wind bag did and even then, even if it was our father, to this day a tiny part of me is still pissed even if I knew he did it because he was worried about me.”

For a moment, the god was quiet. “Zephyr isn’t nearly as important.”

“But still crucial enough; I think it’d be best if we didn’t lose the west wind. Listen to your head, you know this isn’t worth it; it’s never going to be worth it.”

After a few seconds of silence, in the blink of an eye, Apollo was gone.

--------------

 “I really am unreasonable, aren’t I, Hermes? Crying over beings much lesser than myself…”

“You knew you had your heart set upon a mortal, so I guess it does sound foolish to grieve over their mortality but… I think we’re all a little unreasonable sometimes. On the brightside, I’m sure you’ll meet someone new eventually. You are Apollo after all.” He offers his friend a reassuring smile.

The blonde smiled back, yet his eyes were impossible to read. “I suppose…”

“Is there anything you want to say? To Hyacinthus, I mean, if I encounter him down in Hades.”

…

..

.

“If we should ever meet again

No matter how long the wait

No matter how many lifetimes it takes

My arms will be glad to welcome you in an embrace

Until then, just know

That even when man has forgotten my face

And I roam the world as nothing but a shade

Your memory will continue, forever living on

In all the flowers that the earth will cover itself, bearing your name

Goodnight, my sweet prince”

 And as Zeus’ newly appointed messenger left, Apollo decided to merely sing to himself; to sit on the hill and play his cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

Athena was surprised to see him enter Olympus only a week after, even though she should’ve seen it coming. He is Apollo after all.

There were duties to fulfill.

------------------------------------------

(The original one I made)

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 2

–> Pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

–> Rating:  R

–> Genre/warnings:  M U C H  A N G S T; y’all I even cried while writing this sksksk why do I torture myself like this; slightly graphic mentions of dead people, mentions of blood, super slight gore; suggestive language, SMUT AGAIN (voyeurism, shit why do i expose myself too much, petting, unprotected sex, kitchen sex) 

–> Word count: 8.8k

–> A/N: Korean vocabulary used will be placed at the end of the chapter :-) Also, all history indicated here is fictitious, then again, it is fan fiction after all. ALSO, GOOD LUCK WITH THE END OF THE CHAPTER ;) tell me whatcha think!!!

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 2

The warmth in the room makes you stir in bed, the sun’s rays attempting to peek through the paper windows creating too much discomfort for you to continue your beloved slumber. As you turn your body, you see a scroll accompanied by a carnation on your bedside table. Hastily reaching for the scroll, your other hand clutches onto the blanket to cover your chest.

Your stomach drops. With trembling hands, you open the message. No, No, No. NO!  

“My love,

Truthfullly, I do not know where to begin, nor do I know why I am writing this in the first place. What I can be somehow certain of is that I do not have full confidence that my plans shall come into fruition. I guess this letter shall provide me with the least solace for my judgments. The matters of the south have cost me sleepless nights and days, moments that I could regrettably have spent with you, and for that I am truly sorry. It pains me that you might have perceived last night a selfish act to heed to the wants of the flesh but know that every word I have uttered during our throes of passion was not made in jest.

I will not have to lie – you carrying my children, the two of us finally creating a family – the thought alone gives me unparalleled happiness. In the near future, I desire twelve children with you representing the twelve lunar animals, that is, if you allow me to do so. I will be satisfied with eleven, if you must.

Great is the pain that I have to bear with my decision, but great too is the weight of my duties to my country. You of all people have reminded me of that. It is treason against the country for me not to find a way to make amends, yet is treason against my heart to have left you like this.

Alas, I too am scared myself with this journey that I must take, but your love and prayers shall give me strength. My queen, I ask you to not worry much for I did not come unprepared, for I have brought with me the greatest warriors known to our nation, and they shall stand by my side, should the time come that our peaceful exertions shall lead to one of violence.

If, however, may our ancestors and the gods forbid, that the circumstances shall not permit me to return to you, the only love of my life, I cannot ask you remain alone without me in this cruel world because that would be most selfish of me. Live and indulge yourself in the pleasures of life, my dove, continue your flight in this world even if it no longer has me in it.

If I truly have gone for good, I want you to be happy. I am begging you to be happy. Find a man that shall love you from the tiny mole by your forehead to the tips of your toes. Find a man that shall cherish you for your entire being, find someone that shall bestow upon you love more than you deserve, just as you have done the same to me and to the people around you.

Let this reassurance console you that the happiest days of my life have been from your love and affection, and that I die loving only you and with a fervent hope that our souls shall be reunited after this and will have to part no more. Just because I would have passed away does not mean I am not with you, I will always be here looking over you, keeping you safe. Should the day come that you succumb to the sadness of my loss, just close your eyes and I will be by your side in an instant.

This is goodbye to your kisses that shall continue to linger on my lips even if I could not have them again. This is goodbye to your caresses that have kept me warm during the harsh, cold winters. This is goodbye to your endless patronizing that has grounded me through the many decisions I had to make. And finally, this is goodbye to you, my angel, my sweet carnation.

With every word written comes forth a tear, and I fear that I may not finish this letter without wetting the entire page. I will have to leave shortly, and now I will leave your security to the hands of our new captain. He has my trust.

Know that I would have traded a decade of my life just to spend ten more breaths with you. I love you, my queen, with all that I was, with all that I am, and with all that I ever will be.

Seokjin”

A loud, broken sob escapes your lips. Your cheeks become wet with tears, visible wet patches staining your blanket. You let yourself fall back to the bed, body crumpling in anguish. How could you have let him go? You curse at yourself for letting sleep take over you again earlier, when he was already at arm’s reach, so close to forbid him from leaving.

You stay like that on the bed for a few moments, body quaking with distress and clutching onto the piece of paper close to your chest. This was it. Although there was still a part of you that Seokjin will come home to you in one piece, your brain is already betraying you with images of your husband covered in blood, left lifeless in the middle of the road.

Crying harder at the image, you try to muffle them with your blankets that vaguely smell of Seokjin. Your chest constricts. You already know he had intentions of visiting the south even with your constant reminders of the dangers of the south. Your heart clenches when you recall the one time you had argued about it.

‘It’s a lost cause, Seokjin.’ You already felt that one thing was going to lead to another and this conversation was definitely going to end up in an argument.

“What I am I supposed to do here then? Stand and join festivities while my own people are being attacked by rebellious troops? While riots occur on the daily? While there are people dying of hunger on the streets?”

“No! I- That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what am I to do then?!”

“I just—If you go there…” You hiccup, unable to continue when your lips start to tremble. You choke as you suppress a sob, covering your face with your hands as you start to bawl your heart out. Seokjin flees toward you, apologizing profusely as he had probably scared you with the risen pitch of his voice. “Shhh,” he engulfs you in a hug, pulling you close to him.

You begin to calm down after some time, the warmth of Seokjin’s body easily consoling you. Your husband doesn’t let go when you finally catch your breath and your grip tightens around his waist, creasing his durumagi.

With your voice slightly muffled as your mouth is pressed against your husband’s chest, you continue talking, knowing that Seokjin will have no problem comprehending your words. “I’ve lost everyone because of them Seokjin. My father, my real mother, my friends…” you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your jeogori. “Please,” you beseech, “I can’t lose you to them too,” your voice cracks at the thought, eyes brimming with tears once more.

“I won’t let that happen, love.” He doesn’t know that.

You feel your chest starting to heave again, Seokjin slowly guides you to the bed, seats you both, and lets you lay your head on his lap as he rests his own on the wall adjacent to the bed. Gently, he strokes your hair until you finally, truly calm down this time, silent tears now rolling down your cheeks.

The words are heavy on your lips, every emotion rolling off your tongue as you say the words you dread the most. “They’re going to kill you Seokjin.” You take his hand and rest it against your cheek, his hand still seemingly larger with the way your two hands are clutching onto it. You continue with bated breath, “Maybe even before you enter the southern gates, maybe even before you get a single step out of the capitol...” Your voice comes down to a whisper when you repeat your earlier words. “They are going to kill you.”

You tilt your head a little to take a good look at your husband. You see the faint stubble just under his chin. He probably hasn’t shaved yet with the lack of free time on his hands. Shamelessly, you always imagine what he’d look like with a beard but you’re willing to bet your life that he’d be just as handsome as he is now. He keeps on shaving it, much to your dismay, countering that he doesn’t want you to feel and discomfort or itch when he kisses you. You’ll have to leave your bearded Seokjin fantasies somewhere in the future. If the future still has Seokjin in it.

In the past, the five major cities of Korea never got along. It was more of an unspoken rivalry for years on end between the kings and their subjects. People from the east took pride on their agricultural lands and livestock, the westerners’ livelihood depends heavily on lumber, northerners brag about their coal mining and fishery, the south leads the nation’s masonry and defense, and finally, the capitol is the center of textile and is otherwise known as the home of the scholars.

Combined together, this nation would have been unconquerable. But these royals are still human beings and human beings are vulnerable to temptation, constantly fueled by the idea of acquiring something that another does not have.

Unfortunately, a nation with citizens that had no sense of nationalism was the perfect target, the easiest to penetrate for the colonizers. The promises of an alliance to a foreign nation seemed to great an offer to decline. Fools. Just like that, the foreigners tricked each king to go against the other cities – their own people, their own blood. Empty promises drilled into empty heads. Blinded by inane vows of wealth and power, these people who call themselves leaders never knew they were being deceived altogether.

That is, until King Seokwoo of the capitol, Seokjin’s father, realized the deception early enough to stop the war but too late to pacify the nation’s internal turmoil. With his heart and dignity on the line, the brave king of the capitol had gone to the other kings to make them realize their mistakes, their greed, and their shameless thirst for power.

Nobody wanted to believe him at first, not when he too was a part of it all. He apologized in court – the one thing a king never does. He put his pride on the line for the country he loves, bowing his head in front of the other kings, and their respective advisors. King Seokwoo knew he was going to lose his credibility like this with his heart and pride on his sleeve, but only he knew, and only he understood, that a king should not be loyal to the throne and the power it holds, but to his country.

Only when he revealed the scrolls of plans he stole from the colonizers that they collectively decided to temporarily set aside their present caprices and decree a pact for the good of the nation. For once in a very long time, the kings had agreed on one thing.

That night, they had agreed to choose a king to lead the fight against the colonizers – the king who would lead Korea back to greatness. Three kings, in honor of Seokwoo’s bravery and humility, chose him to be the leader of the nation. Only one king of a city voted against Seokwoo as King of Korea – your father.

“My Queen?” A soft voice calls from outside your door. Haesoo.  

“Leave, Haesoo.”

“Jungjeon-mama, please. You have not left your room all morning, and lunch—”

“I said leave!”

You recoil the moment the words spill from your mouth. You hadn’t meant to snap at her, she was your favorite court lady after all. She was stubborn, above all things, and you likened her to your younger self that’s why she earned your favor the most. But her adamancy only causes her more trouble, especially in times like these. Perhaps her slight insensitivity came with her youth? You’re certain that you’ve caused worry because of your audible wailing earlier, but company was the last thing you needed right now.

“Yes my Queen.” She replies, voice small.

You don’t know how long you stay in bed like that, watching your chest rise and fall under the covers with every breath. Your head is swirling in emotions – fear, anger, misery. As you continue to stare into the ceiling, your stomach grumbles so you deem it wise that you have at least one meal for today - just enough to satiate your hunger and give you strength to face the rest of the day. But not before indulging yourself in your favorite bath first.

You stay much longer in the bath today – letting the water cause wrinkles in the pads of your fingers. Shoving your husband’s image to the back of your head temporarily, your thoughts drift to other the other predicaments you have to face while Seokjin is away. ‘You have to be strong,’ you mutter to yourself. For Seokjin. For the future. For Korea.

The court ladies get startled when you suddenly rise from the pool, one of them hurriedly draping a towel over you. You let her lead the way to a dressing room where your royal garments are neatly folded on a table. Staring at your reflection on the mirror, your eyes linger on the red marks littered across your torso. You feel your chest constrict one more time. Taking a deep breath, you repeat to yourself. ‘For Seokjin. For the future. For Korea.’

Chaeyoung waits until you have worn your undergarments and helps you with the rest of your hanbok. You can feel the nervousness radiating off her, clammy hands tying the ribbons on your dress. You can’t really blame her; this was probably the first time they have seen you this cold and distant. You usually made small talk with the court ladies, genuinely curious about their individualities and because they’re the closest you can get to your subjects.

Certainly, Seokjin’s leave also has the whole palace on edge. Everybody was aware of what was going on in the south, and with their king’s sudden absence this morning, word has been going around in the palace. You’re thankful that the palace workers are discreet with their whispering, but these wooden walls were never thick enough to maintain secrecy between two people.

You leave the room as soon as Chaeyoung finishes and you come face to face with a familiar red and white uniform. “Wangbi,” Captain Jung greets as he bows his head. “Captain.” You acknowledge, finding yourself looking up at him when you do so – he was taller than you expected him to be.

“I am under the King’s orders to watch you wherever you go, my Queen.” He tails after you when you start walking.

“And does that include the private royal baths Captain?” You turn to face him again.

He gets flustered at your question, quickly averting his gaze from you. Looking down, the captain shakes his head, muttering under his breath something along the lines of ‘security’ and ‘king’s orders’.

You don’t know what urged you to tease him like that – probably because of his innocent-like features that makes him so tease-worthy, but since his arrival and inauguration as captain of the royal guards, you can’t help but get drawn to the man. Sure, he was attractive with attributes of youthful exuberance on his face, that, and that he was a finely built man, taut muscles hiding underneath those silken robes. At least, that’s what you presume from listening to the whispers among the court ladies.

They also said he’s had quite the reputation from where he came from in the East, famous for his looks and even more famous for his ways of luring skirts to his bed. So, you’ve heard. Genuinely surprised at how these rumors even came out in the first place, it still makes you laugh when you recall the obscenity of it all, despite the court ladies supposedly being the spitting image of modesty observed in the palace.

The rumors are true. You could easily attest to that as you have personally witnessed it once, how the captain could easily captivate women with his face alone. But his charm wasn’t the reason why you seem to magnetize towards the captain.

During their inauguration day, as you were too preoccupied with how dashing your husband looks in official robe, you hadn’t been paying attention to the event, let alone the emotional speech that the captain shared to the crowd. It was only when you caught sight of the scar on his left cheek that got you so curious. You wonder where you’ve seen that scar before. He looks familiar. He feels familiar. You can’t put a finger on it right now, but you certainly feel like you’ve known Jung Jungkook from somewhere, sometime in your past.

You don’t realize you’re lost in your thoughts when a hand suddenly pulls you back by your elbow, stopping you from walking straight to a wall. “Jungjeon-mama!” The lady beside you exclaims. “My Queen, are you okay?” The captain behind you asks, his grip now loosening on your elbow. You nod sheepishly, dismissing the whole fiasco with an awkward cough.

“You can go ahead, Chaeyoung. I’ll be back by sunset. Make sure dinner is ready by then.” The court lady nods curtly in acknowledgment and bows before leaving the both of you. You turn your head to look at Jungkook who continues to stand by your side. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, your Highness.”

You plan on spending the rest of your day in one of the most serene places in the palace. Besides yours and Seokjin’s garden, the doltap shrine is another place you head to for peace and quiet. The shrine, complete with a mini pavilion, is situated on a small hill, surrounded by the beauty of nature – a place so perfectly serene that only monks and royalty are allowed to visit to maintain its tranquility.

It’s significantly father than any other house or office in this palace that it requires quite a tedious, long walk and a boat ride across the Gaeun river. This is why you rarely visit the shrine, but on the days that you do, the wearisome trek is always rewarding. It’s perhaps part of the whole process of meditation, you presume, as the shrine is a place where you offer your greatest, deepest prayers.

The captain trudges behind you, unable to cope with your leisurely pace. He quickens his steps when he sees he’s falling behind, but when he deems he’s walking too close to you he slows his pace once more until he has to catch up again. You become curious at his strange feat, unable to stop yourself from asking him about it.

“Captain, have you not taken a leisurely walk like this before?”

“My deepest apologies, Mama. I am really not used to a pace like this.”

Who knew the greatly feared captain could be so mildly…amusing? Jungkook gets surprised when you let out a giggle after having stared at him for a moment at his confession. He is unable to stop the small smile etching into his face at the beautiful sound, deciding it’s something he wants to hear all day long.

“You are a mirthful one, Jung.”

There is a skip in the man’s heartbeat when he hears you say his surname – or, at least, the surname he’s been using since his arrival at the capitol. He supposes it satisfactory that he’s made you comfortable around him, enough for you to call him by his alias. Not like you were going to be on a first name basis anyways. Jungkook found it easier to keep up with your pace after your verdict.

You were beautiful. Well, you still are, and probably will be for a very long time. He wonders if you already had your portrait painted. It used to be a hobby he thoroughly learned and enjoyed from where he’s from and now it has blossomed into a business around his past village, selling portraits for a few silver coins. He takes pride in his paintings, having learned the skill from the virtuoso himself – his father. He was the first man in Korea to add colors to a drawing, bringing forth life to an inanimate illustration.

Even if Jungkook painted you though, it would probably be useless for him to do so, because a portrait - even if done on the finest paper or painted with the brightest colors, could never capture your real beauty, nor give justice to it. In the past, he had heard stories of what the queen of the capitol looked like, but none of these rumors had prepared him for the genuineness of it all. Your beauty was indescribable, but Jungkook only knew one description that fit you the best – that you are the epitome of a woman’s unadulterated pulchritude.

Jungkook could not question why the king is absolutely smitten with you, admittedly, the rest of the nation is. If you were a lady that belonged to the same class, he would have tried to capture your heart from the very start. Maybe in another life, perhaps. But to him, it wasn’t just your pretty face that made you so riveting.

Unlike any other woman in the nation, you were headstrong, refusing to submit to the societal morals and principles. You were the only woman who would stand proud and tall amongst a sea of men, and one gaze from you had the power to intimidate both man and woman alike. Undoubtedly, you were raised like that: to be the queen – with your childhood nurtured with doctrines and routines only afforded to a king in the making. That fact he knew all too well.

When you look to your left, he spots a red mark on your neck, just below the smooth slope of your jawline. He flushes at the sight of the rose-colored blotch staring back at him, the base of his neck turning red at the recollection of the events last night. Jungkook can see your lips moving as you talk but he can’t seem to hear you, let alone take his eyes off the love bite on your neck.

“Captain Jung?”

Jungkook coughs to mask his surprise, “Sorry, Jungjeon-mama. I thought I saw something in the woods. It must’ve been a squirrel or a small animal.” You nod your head in acknowledgement and reply, “We still must be wary. There are…people…who do not mean well…” your words fade, voice cracking at the thought of your husband. Jungkook notices your anxiety.

“I will protect you with my life, my Queen. Please do not worry.”

“Of course, Captain Jung. I believe you.” Giving him a small smile, you continue walking, your shoes softly squishing against the green dewy grass. It’s a beautiful day today: the sky is clear and the sun is out, compared to your heart which is now clouded with storms and thunder. You shall try not to dwell on your emotions today.

“So, enlighten me Captain.”

“Ah, but Mama, my life may not measure up to yours in terms of adventure.”

You raise an eyebrow at his reply. Your life story isn’t known to many, even a number of the citizens don’t even know you are a southerner. Gazing into Jungkook’s eyes, you look for any mysterious truth hiding beneath them, but you’re only faced with his curious doe-like eyes. You’re conflicted if you’re supposed to feel disappointed or not if he was truly a part of your past, but you’ll have to leave that for another time.

“Surely, it can’t be that uninteresting.”

“If you insist, Jungjeon-mama. But don’t complain if you fall asleep before we reach the shrine.” The captain knows he’s pushing the line by teasing you like this, but the way you roll your eyes at him tells him you feel otherwise.

He tells the story he’s practiced endless times lacing a few truths from his past. “Well, I belong to a family of four. My parents work in the fields and my brother and I would play in them all day long until my mother would call us back in for supper. During the Great Colonization, my father used to serve King Donggeun of the East…” He steps aside to make way, a hand shooting out to help you to an elevated part of the head of the bridge. You place your hand on his gratefully, your feet taking quite the leap.

He continues with his monologue, “My mother always told us that she never thought father would never survive the Great Colonization. Even before the pact, there had already been attacks on the borders, the rivalry too much for people who call themselves citizens of the same nation. He had come home greatly wounded one night and my mother was crying so much that she could barely treat my father’s wounds. He had even offered her a literal bloody hand with the treatment, causing my mother to cry more, complaining about how he could have found pleasantries at such a grievous time.”

“Thankfully, the pact has been completed before things ultimately became worse. He was called to fight again to drive off the colonizers, but with the people from all the cities fighting as one force, casualties from our troops were only at the minimum. He has fought side by side with King Deonggeun and even saved the late king’s life at one instance. He had been promoted to a higher rank since then.” He pauses his narrative momentarily when your hand hooks around his elbow, clutching onto him as you go down a light slope to where a narrow dock is situated.

The captain tries not to be obvious about his astonishment at your actions as he places his hand over it, supporting your balance when you place a foot inside the boat. “But with a promotion in the military ranks comes more visits in the palace, and more visits in the palace only lead to one thing: King Donggeun taking an interest in my mother.” Your hand flies to your mouth to mask your shock. And just moments ago, he thought his life wasn’t supposedly as colorful as yours?

When Jungkook finally seats himself, he grabs at the oars and starts to row. It would have been fun if Haesoo had gone with, as you would inevitably tease her with her ogling the captain. She would’ve gushed at how his muscles must ripple underneath the uniform, or how his chest puffs out with every row. As your favorite court lady occupies your thoughts, you reckon that you owe her an apology later.  

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened next?” The captain lets out a chuckle at your wide-eyed curiosity. “Of course, Mama. I am a man of manners. A story must have a beginning and an end.”

“King Donggeun tried to conceal his feelings at first. But the rumored loss of his wife was too great of a sadness for him to bear. And he longed for the kind of comfort only a woman could give. Soon enough, father noticed the king’s longing looks, knowing all too well the sentiments the king hid behind his eyes. After all, he too was a man in love and a firm believer of the famous saying ‘the eyes are windows to our souls’.” The captain says the words with such drama that you fail to suppress the giggle that escapes your lips. Jungkook’s own lips twitch, chest beaming with pride with the fact that he has made you laugh twice today.

“Things kept in hiding will always come out, one way or another. And so, the king ended up confessing his feelings to my mother. He had begged her to be his concubine, even when they both knew she was tied to another. She fled from the king’s arms that night in fear and confusion, telling the whole confession to my father with teary eyes.”

The captain slows his rowing, creating small ripples against the clear water.

“That same night, my father learned that love meant having to constantly make sacrifices for the better, even if we end up losing that which matters most in our hearts. What the king wants, the king gets,” the captain’s lips fall into a tight-lipped smile. “There was too much at risk, my father couldn’t say no to his own king. Needless to say, even if we did eventually get to live nearer the palace, mother’s visits became less frequent, and soon our mother became only a figment of our imagination.”

Each word of the captain struck at your heart. You had never expected so many shared similarities in your past. His eyes are swimming with emotion. Not once had you seen a royal guard like this, looking so vulnerable, so human in front of your eyes.

“With nothing to lose, the three of us left the eastern city and headed to the capitol. We begged for food and slept on the streets for days until a family took pity and welcomed us into their home. When the father of the family introduced himself as a royal guard, my father offered his services as payment for their kindness.”

When you’ve reached the other side of the river, Jungkook sets the oars aside before guiding you up to the dock. You wait under the shade of a nearby tree until he’s fixated the boat properly onto the dock. He approaches you, dusting his pants with his hands. “Where were we? Ah. The kind family. I, too, have also had a realization here in the capitol. Happiness does not last for long, so we have to learn how to live each day with glee and gratitude.” You both continue the walk, with each step getting closer to your destination.

“A few days after our arrival, my brother caught this incurable illness. We had consulted every physician in the city, but all our efforts were in vain. My father and I had to lay him to rest just when we thought we had started a new life here in the capitol.”

“My father? Like I had mentioned during our inauguration, my father sacrificed his life for his country. Because he loves our nation, and because he loves us. All he wanted was a bright future for me, and for my mom as well, though he’d never admit that out loud. He never stopped loving her, even when she exchanged her family for the kind of life we could never give her.”

“Well, Mama. Are you sufficiently enlightened now?” You stay quiet at first, reciting a prayer to the gods and to your ancestors and you place another stone on the pile of rocks.

“I am Jungkook. I am.”

The journey to the south was filled with dread from the very start. The troop left the capital in silence, every man anxious of what is to come. Or rather, who awaits their coming. Seokjin had not said anything before they exited the gates of the capital because he knew words of encouragement would have done nothing to soothe the disquietude evident amongst them. The company had chosen to take a shortcut through the woods, one that will allow them to reach their destination within a shorter period of time.

They already have been traveling for quite some time, yet it feels like they have been for days. There are far fewer villages near the woods where there are to pass, but Seokjin had not expected this particular village to be so different from the others.

Dust rises when the horses halt, Seokjin abruptly putting up his fist in the air. It’s eerily quiet. Empty stalls of goods stand with no merchant behind them. Houses feel empty, with no person coming out and about. A gust of wind passes them, like an omen being whispered into their ears. The hairs at the back of Seokjin’s neck rise.

“What happened here?” A guard from the front asks.

“Jeonha, look!” Another shouts, pointing to a nearby house. A boy comes forth and walks, limps rather, towards them. Seokjin dismounts from his horse and takes a few steps forward. He lets the child come to him, the king lowering on his knees to receive the child. The child approaches Seokjin with a steady pace and with one final step left, he loses all his strength and falls. Luckily, Seokjin’s reflexes are quick enough so he catches the child before he falls to the ground.

“It’s quiet now,” the child mumbles. He takes a deep breath, body quaking with exertion as he does. “They came here…took everything…killed everyone and…s-south,” Seokjin holds him tighter as the boy’s breathing shallows, “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He consoles, tears swelling in his eyes as he gently rocks the child in his arms. The boy’s chest stops heaving and he finally closes his eyes. The king’s fingers fly to the child’s neck, looking for a pulse. None. Seokjin’s brows come together in anger, his beautiful face contorting into one of rage.

He stands, the boy in his arms now seemingly smaller and lighter than before. “Namjoon, with me. The rest of you, check the village. See if anybody is still alive, go over every house, every room, every corner. If you see a southerner lurking around, bring him to me.” Seokjin orders. “And I’ll execute him myself.”

As the troop disperses, Seokjin commands Kim Namjoon to look for a shovel and follow him to nearby open lot afterwards. Thankfully, the king doesn’t need to tell the guard what to do. As Namjoon digs a hole, Seokjin gently lays the child on a wooden bench while he looks for a cloth to wrap him in. His heart breaks for this child – that the young boy had to go through so much at such a young age, and now at the time of his death, he couldn’t even be afforded with proper burial rites.

The burial was shorter than expected and Seokjin ends the rite with a prayer to his ancestors and the gods above. The pair sit beside the child’s makeshift resting place for a while, both in deep contemplation. Their reverie is cut short when another guard calls from behind, “Jeonha,” he calls again, breathless, “there is something you must see.”

He leads the pair through the woods and towards a small clearing, where the troop has gathered around. “What’s this?” Seokjin takes his steps cautiously, the group beginning to make way for the king. Once the path clears, Seokjin stops in his tracks. From his peripheral, he sees Namjoon’s failed attempt to not gag at the scene before them.

The villagers. The stench. The message.

Seokjin tries to close his eyes, wanting to forget he even saw something this terrible. But no, the image has already etched itself into his memory forever. He can’t even imagine what type of human would have the guts to do this…monstrosity?

Scattered across the clearing are the villagers, stacked on top of each other, the formation with a similarity uncanny with the rock formation in front of them. The villagers were piled behind the doltap, where one muddy hand from each pile reaches out, holding a scroll with the words written with the villager’s own blood. “You can never keep us out.”

Seokjin’s hands ball into fists as he realizes what instigated this massacre. During the height of the turmoil in the south, he had sent out a proclamation weeks ago to implore the entire nation to remain strong and as one amidst these trying times which put their patriotism to the test.

The doltap is a stack of stones, usually erected at village entrances – a natural representation of guardians of the village, keeping away the bad and inviting the good. It had been tradition for people to pile rocks on top of each other along with symbolisms of their intentions placed near the stack.

Since the proclamation, the citizens had been placing more and more objects in front of their shrines, like a bowl of rice grains or the emblem of the south. Inevitably infuriated with this new practice, the southerners wrecked village after village in rage, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake. These people are but a number from the villages they victimized. Seokjin is lucky this is first and only village he will see.

The sky is a purplish pink by the time they have finished the burial rites for the village. “The sun is setting,” Seokjin announces to the group, “we will take shelter and camp there, by the woods. It will not be smart to individually use the houses here.”

Nobody could sleep a wink that night, especially not the king. He supposed no one could ever, not when you had just witnessed such a horrific sight. He continues to stare at the moon, head swarming with endless thoughts. As he rests his head against the bark of the oak tree, Seokjin’s thoughts race to you, what could you possibly be doing in this hour, if you were thinking of him right now. If you’d taken supper or skipped your meals today. You always did that when you were upset, and he had no doubt you were.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin calls to the trusted guard. Namjoon has been like him the whole night, staring into the distance, curious what the future might hold for them.

“Namjoon.” He calls again, this time with a louder voice, successfully getting the younger man’s attention.

“Jeonha,” Namjoon turns, “my sincerest apologies, but the moon seems to have a wonderful glow tonight. Might this be a good sign?” The guard bows, shame coloring his face as he got caught preoccupied with other things on his mind.

“I too fervently wish for that…I…” He was not about to make the same mistake to Namjoon. Seokjin gets frustrated at the thought of always being a step behind the enemy. He’s made this mistake with Minseok, and he wasn’t about to do the same with Namjoon.

“You wanted to say something, my King?”

“I…I just wanted to thank you, for always being loyal to the throne.” Seokjin is all too aware of what the people are saying. They are his people after all. He ought to know them best. They’re blaming him for these agonizing events, if he just hadn’t sent that proclamation, then this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

“Only because the throne is worth being loyal to.” Namjoon replies, not missing a beat.

“So,” the king moves to a lighter topic, not wanting to ruin the illustrious mood afforded by the bright sky like this night. “how is the romance in your life? Haesoo, is it?”

The younger man gets caught off-guard, startled at the king’s sudden inquiry and knowledge. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, jeonha,” Namjoon looks down, cheeks starting to tinge with a blush. ‘He can’t give this away’, the guard thinks, suddenly all too aware that the king is sitting right beside him. As all of them had taken a pledge of loyalty to throne and the throne alone, so a relationship between workers of the palace was considered taboo, at least, until Seokjin’s reign.

“Namjoon. I am speaking to you as a friend. And even if I did speak to you as king of the nation, who am I to take control of the matters of the heart? You yourself can’t seem to help it. What more of I?”

“Jeonha, please tell me. What does love feel like?”

“Love comes in many forms, my friend. In fact, it’s everywhere. Personally, I think it’s what makes the world go around, if the studies and calculations of astronomer Lee is correct. What we’re doing right now is love, love for our country, our citizens. The memorials we hold for our late relatives is also a commemoration of our love. Love is not exclusive to human relations though, there is love for animals, love for nature…” The king turns to face the young guard who blinks owlishly back at him.

“I know that wasn’t the kind of love you’re asking about. I’m getting there, worry not, my friend. I just needed context.” Seokjin looks away, partly embarrassed at himself. “As I was saying… there is one kind of love however that I treasure the most, and for me, it’s the kind of love that enraptures you the most: the love for a special person. I hate to say this, but it’s something so complex that it’s indescribable. It makes you feel plenty of emotions all at the same time. For instance, when you see her, you feel your heart pumping out of your chest, or sometimes your heart constricts at the realization that she’s yours and yours alone.”

“That wasn’t that much of a help was it?” Seokjin sighs defeatedly.

“Can I be honest with you, jeonha?” The king nods. “No, not really.” The pair chuckle at that, both relieved that at least they found something to laugh about tonight.

Heaving a sigh, Namjoon turns to face him with glossy eyes. “Well, it is unfortunate that we are not lovers then. Yet. Then I shall ask her to be my betrothed, if we come home.”

“When, Namjoon. When we come home.”

The two continue return their eyes to the moon. It looks bigger tonight. Astronomer Lee says bigger moons bring about luck to all those who look upon it, Seokjin fervently hoping that this journey might somehow be in their favor.

You’ve been tossing around in bed for quite some time now, unable to sleep. Perhaps a cup of milk would do the trick, you thought, pulling the covers away from your body. You wrap a robe over the flimsy garment you usually sleep in and head over to the secret door of your room. It’s been specifically designed to blend in with the wall, only to be used in worst-case scenarios.

Sliding the door open, you creep out of your room, dragging your cotton-clad feet against the wooden floor to make minimal sounds. You head to the bridge connecting your hanok to the palace kitchen. You don’t realize you’re too concentrated on not making noise that you don’t notice the body in front of you. “Jungjeon-mama?” the guard asks, peering down at you. “I’ll just get something from the kitchen, I will be quick.” Discretion could only last for so long. He bows and moves out of the way.

Rummaging through the kitchen as quietly as you can, you silently curse at yourself for not bringing a lamp with you, now all you can do is sniff at the vessels of liquid, hoping that you’ll uncover the right one. Thankfully, you manage to choose the right vessel in no time. As your eyes had adjusted to the light, you manage to grab a ladle and a nearby bowl with almost no noise at all.

As you pour yourself some milk, you return the cover and rest your behind against the table.

You figure it’s time to apologize to her. As you open your mouth to call, a male voice beats you to it. “You’re so beautiful.” Mouth parting in mild surprise, your eyes widen, searching for the voice’s owner. You couldn’t make out who’s voice it belonged to as it was said just barely above a whisper, and you continue peeking through the small space when your eyes land on the captain.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as your lips fall wider apart. It’s finally happening! But wait… you stand up straighter in realization. Namjoon? You’ve heard the guard has been harboring affection towards your favorite court lady for quite some time now. Seokjin was first to notice it, pointing out how Namjoon would sneak glances at Haesoo whenever you were together, both parties walking as one. You heart clenches at the perplexity of the situation.

Surely you’re not meant to stay here and watch the spectacle? Milk was what you came here for, you remind yourself, but like always, curiosity gets the best of you. Jungkook takes another step towards Haesoo, who seems frozen at her spot. Do something lady! You watch as the captain slowly reaches out his hand, the back of his fingers gently caressing the lady’s face. Haesoo leans towards the man’s touch.

“May I?” Jungkook asks, eyes searching for any signs of doubt in Haesoo’s. The girl nods curtly and without waiting any further, Jungkook closes the distance between them. Watching their lips move in sync, you take this as your cue to leave, that is, until you hear a pot clanging against the floor. Your line of vision suddenly returns to the couple to check if someone got hurt, only to find out quite the opposite.

Jungkook has already backed up Haesoo to lean against a table adjacent to the wall. The captain lifts her with ease to sit on the table, Haesoo pulling her knees apart so she could properly hold onto the man, her nimble fingers pulling at Jungkook’s hair. The captain starts smothering her with kisses all over her cheeks, jaws, and neck like a frenzied, starved man. You can’t look away, not when Haesoo is failing miserably at her attempt to keep her whimpering at bay.  

Jungkook’s fingers work deftly in undoing the ribbons on her hanbok, lips still trained on lavishing her skin with kisses. As the garment falls easily from Haesoo’s shoulders, Jungkook’s large hand palms her breast while the other is busy kneading the expanse of her thigh. The captain revels in Haesoo’s pliancy, with the girl tilting her head back at Jungkook’s ministrations, begging him for more.  

Her hanbok is completely off her torso now, the silk bunching up at hips. Jungkook takes this moment to take a hardened nipple between his lips and swirling his tongue around it as a hand squeezes the supple flesh of the other. Haesoo mewls at the captain’s actions, back arching, words no longer needed to show what she wants, what she desires.

This is wrong. You aren’t supposed to be watching such a private moment, let along seemingly enjoying it. Like Haesoo earlier, you’re just as frozen in your spot as she was.

You no longer see much of Haesoo torso, considering their proximity, but you see Jungkook’s hand removing itself from the assault on her breasts, traveling to her core. She shivers when Jungkook’s fingers swipes against her folds and raising his fingers under the moonlight seeping through the window, observing how wet the tips of his fingers are due to the court lady’s essence.

“Look at you,” Jungkook murmurs in a low voice, watching the slick coating his fingers. “So wet and ready for me. I bet I’d slip right in hmm?”

“Please,” Haesoo begs, hiding her face between his shoulders in pleading. “I need you.” Jungkook seems to have no problem complying, abruptly bring his pants down to his thighs.

You don’t see much due to the lack of light in the room and their compromising position on the table, but this seems all the more thrilling like this. You reprimand yourself, as if Seokjin was lacking in bed. But you have not tried being intimate anywhere else but your room and his office – and the thought of doing it at such a common place like the kitchen where anyone from the palace could easily enter excites you in the strangest way possible.

Surely you can’t be going crazy, can you? Is it normal to find such a spectacle so strangely arousing? The sight of two lovers getting intimate?

Jungkook gently lays her down on the table, pushing her down by her shoulders. He parts her legs wider before adjusting his stance and slowly thrusting his hips forward. Your jaw slackens the same time with Haesoo. You feel your own nipples harden at the sight, the sensitive buds trying to pry through the material.

He pauses for a moment, letting Haesoo adjust to the feeling as his head tilts back, the lady’s velvety walls clenching wonderfully around his cock. When Haesoo tilts her hips, Jungkook takes this as a sign to start moving, each roll of his hips earning a whimper from the writhing girl beneath him. A few more slow rolls and Jungkook thrusts harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping ricocheting against the walls.

A gasp escapes your mouth when the captain maneuvers her legs to rest against his chest and the two stop at once, heads shooting up to look for where the voice came from. Haesoo winces when Jungkook pulls out and puts his pants up.

You flee from the kitchen at once, Jungkook abruptly looking for the intruder, he catches a glimpse of your white-clad figure run towards the door and he briefly questions himself who could you possibly be, but the royal seal at the back of your robe is a little too hard to miss.

Seokjin’s eyelids start to droop, sleep finally taking over him when he hears rustling behind. Namjoon, equally alerted by the sound, stands up and looks around. “Jeonha, we might have company. Please stand.”

It’s awfully quiet now, and the two of them are unsure of its because the troop has fallen asleep or… or if the unspeakable happened… They take a few cautious steps in separate ways, eyes scanning every tree surrounding them.

They wake the troop in silence, warning them of possible danger coming their way. Namjoon orders the company to stay more vigilant than usual, especially in the dark where they won’t able to see if an enemy is lurking around or not. Suddenly a guard falls to the ground, a bow lodged in his back.

“Watch the trees!” Seokjin shouts before chaos ensues. Men coming from all directions charge towards them, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing throughout the forest. Seokjin’s troop is outnumbered greatly, he realizes. They have to escape before everyone gets killed. “Guards, fall back!” his arms are getting tired too but he can’t find the strength to give up, not when he sees his men falling one by one.

Time seems to slow down around him as he watches each royal guard get shot or stabbed to their death. He backs up slowly, bumping into Namjoon. “You ready?” Seokjin asks, finding it difficult to breath. There’s a slit in his sleeves, a cut a few inches long, feeling the blood trickling down his arm. “’Til death, jeonha.” Namjoon nods, wiping away the blood on his lips with his sleeve.

A group surrounds them – ten to two. “Now!” Seokjin commands, screaming  as he charges against the men. He gets kicked at the back, the king falling on his knees. Seokjin’s head bows at the pain, but he plunges his sword to the soil, using it to support his weight as he stands up from his knees. He swings at them, the armed men laughing when he blindly thrusts the sword in the air. He’s been cut again, this time across his pectoral, the stinging pain felt until the tips of his fingers. His vision is getting hazy by the minute. He can’t give up.

Seokjin falls one more time to the ground, his arms bearing all his weight. He sees Namjoon’s body on the side – lifeless. He musters all his strength and attempts to push himself back up one more time. Before he manages to get on his knees, a blade of a sword points at his neck, one more move and the steel will pierce through his skin.

He follows the blade of the sword ‘til he looks up to a masked man with… blonde hair? His eyes narrow at the sight. It was his first time to encounter a man with hair of such color. The man pulls the mask over his head, a healing scar cutting through his right eyebrow and down to his cheek. 

“Yoongi?”

“Told you, you can never keep us out.”

That’s the last thing Seokjin hears, as he feels the blade slicing through his abdominals. He falls to the ground, clutching onto his stomach as he spits out the blood accumulating in his mouth. His chest is heaving, everything is hazy. He’s losing consciousness.

The image of you smiling is the last thing he sees before blacking out.  

© joontier 2020. All rights reserved.

[taglist] : @aretha170​

[vortexparadox]

@dochaes​ said: (from here because I felt awkward reblogging it)

🍒  +  @vortexparadox  lexi has so much love for so many characters & a talent to writing them all! specifically on this blog, i love that they are giving attention to several less popular characters from doctor who. like, i’m into classic and eu who and i didn’t even know all of these muses, and alas, now i am into even more eu who just because? wanted to learn more about, say, josie! all thanks to lexi’s portrayal! they are immensely awesome ooc as well. one of the few people i feel like i can fully trust with more sensitive private things, and also someone who i don’t feel the need to be scared i’m gonna lose when i have long stretches of time where i feel so overwhelmed by social interaction i just don’t talk ooc to anybody. that’s genuinely rare.

Okay, to completely derail all this right from the start, but can I just say how this was my immediate response to seeing myself referred to by they/them pronouns?

Now, on to the continued lovefest, because OMG, HELI!!!!!

I love that, of everyone on this blog, you singled out Josie, because she is seriously one of the most underrated companions in Doctor Who, especially since Eight never got a proper televised run, and then so many people just... ignore the comics altogether, which is a damn shame given how many great characters (and characterisations of more well known characters) come out of them - especially from the Titan Comics’s side of things.

Josie’s run only lasted five issues, because they never gave them a “Year 2″ or further like they did with many of the other Doctor & Companion(s) combinations (like Ten with Gabby and Cindy). So beyond that and a handful of panels in some of the specials, there’s not a lot to go by past her initial travels with the Doctor as he learns just who exactly she even is. Add to it that she’s one of the non-human companions that is also forever removed from her place in time and space, and one of the few companions that, insofar as canon has been concerned with, doesn’t die or nothing horrible happens, so she just... keeps living in the Doctor’s cottage in Wales for the foreseeable future? A truly rare “happy ending” for a companion, even when forced to stay behind due to the Time War? Yeah. It was impossible for me not to fall in love with her.

Plus all of the expanded universe stuff is always... a bit harder to gain traction with, especially outside of their tiny niche fandoms. Part of the whole reason I decided to focus so heavily on the EU and Classic side of things is because there’s so little of it on here, especially in the rpc side of things. Plus having more than the same core cast of characters, when there are literally hundreds of main cast characters in the DWEU, yet more often than not, you can only find the same handful of characters in terms of both rp and even fan works?

I can only really speak for myself here, but I thoroughly enjoy variety, and having a wider range of characters, all with varying personalities (which, let me tell you, can be a bitch to manage at times, especially when they do share some traits between a lot of them [hi, my name is Lexi, and I enjoy writing snarky little shits]) is not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. Especially when so many people aren’t even aware some of these characters even exist - like Josie, Gabby, Cindy, or Noobis (the last of whom actually existed before his appearance in the comics, but through one of the Faction Paradox audios, but he didn’t get as much of his backstory explored until the comics).

So yeah, it means a lot to me that these muses are appreciated, and I love you dearly for getting into their source material so I have someone to scream excitedly about them (especially Josie) with because there’s not many people who even know them beyond my writing, edits, and such. (See also: reasons why I typically don’t share hc’s unless I’m really excited about something without being specifically asked for them...)

As for the ooc side of things... 

I can’t even begin to tell you how relieved I am that you realise all that. You’re damn right in that - you don’t have to worry about ever losing me just because we don’t talk for a while. It’s always baffled me when people perceive friendships as having... expiration dates, I guess? Or maybe subscription end dates would be a better analogy? Like “we’re sorry, you didn’t use your friendship for 30 days, so now we’re ending your friendship”. Seriously? 

I have friends who I only speak to every few months because their schedules are just that hectic, but I don’t love them any less for not being able to talk to me regularly. I know that I can always message them - and even wall of text them - at any time, and they’re able to do the same with me, and it’s never been awkward. These are friends I’ve held onto for damn near 20 years now from when I was fresh out of high school, and I’m confident that they’ll still be there in another 20 years.

And I look forward to being able to say that about you (and Dean) too, many years down the road. You’re stuck with me now. And my inevitable sappiness when I end up all “aww, you guys! I love you~” because I do. Love you, that is.

You’re a dear friend, and I’m just so glad we managed to stumble across each other on this hellsite. It just wouldn’t be the same without you. 💕

[lokidrabbles]

Across Time (Loki x Reader)

Loki reminisces about Sigyn and his current relationship with Reader

A/N: This is also mildly setup as a Loki x Sigyn story, but it is more used as a device for Loki’s perception of his present relationship. As always, Gender Neutral reader! Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Some implied smut, fluff n’ stuff

The young prince leaned against the marble column, arms crossed over his chest in a sheer display of disinterest. The large hall in which he stood was inhabited with a variety of Asgardians of all ages and trades, eagerly involved in the splendor of food, music, magic and chatter. While large festivities weren’t foreign to him, that being one of Odin’s sons, he felt out of place. This wasn’t your average conjoining of individuals, for this was Thor’s day of birth, and Odin had made sure his eldest son received every single demand and desire he voiced out.

Thor’s entourage involved the Warriors Three, a loud bunch of individuals who felt forced to involve Loki in their little shenanigans, Lady Sif, a woman too serious for her own good, and other belligerent Asgardians who drank and ate mercilessly. Thor was in the middle of it all, letting out a roaring laughter, blatantly drunk and uncaring of the spectacle he was making of himself. Everyone at the gathering cheered and clapped at Thor’s ongoing display of strength and cockiness, causing Loki to roll his eyes, embarrassed at how this man could ever be considered his brother.

He was content however. It was seldom when Odin allowed Thor to fully be his reckless self without reprimanding him on his role as the eldest prince, and Loki knew his brother better than anyone else. Thor needed these foolish events as to not collapse under the pressure of his royal duties, and so Loki only humored him from a distance.

From the corner of his eye, Loki caught a slender figure slowly approaching him, already recognizing her long golden locks and her habit of holding her hands behind her back when near him.

“My prince.” She began, curtsying before him.

“Lady Sigyn.” Loki replied, bowing his head in recognition. “How are you enjoying the merriment?”

“Oh it is quite wonderful. My family is so very thankful for the Allfather to have invited us.” She said softly, positioning herself next to him. “Although now I see how different both you and Prince Thor are.”

Sigyn belonged to a noble family, and the rumors had spread out of the possibility of Odin seeking her father’s approval to marry one of his sons. All clues suggested for Loki to be her suitor, as Thor would probably scare her off with his boasting nature.

Loki chuckled. “Yes quite. My brother takes much to Odin in the same way I take to my mother. Though irritating at times, it can be quite amusing seeing him make a fool of himself.”

“Oh, Prince Loki. You shouldn’t say that about your brother.” She replied jestingly. “ Though I do recall the one time he had passed out on top of the entire desert table. A lot of the nobles weren’t to happy about that.”

“Ah yes! That was indeed hilarious. Father had single-handedly dragged him to his quarters by his ankle. He was absolutely furious that next morning, and I did not envy Thor one bit.”

She let out a gentle laughter, causing Loki’s heart to flutter briefly. Both Loki and Sigyn were introduced to each other as young adolescents with prospects of them bonding and forming a tight knit relationship. Sigyn, like Loki, had studied under her family to master the art of seidr. Their first conversations involved talking about the mystic magic, comparing their abilities and attempting to teach each other what they have learned. Sigyn focused on healing abilities, spells which would replenish one’s energy and stamina, while Loki would learn a variety of defensive and offensive spells from Frigga. They complemented each other in abilities, and matched in their calm nature, drawn towards literature and increasing their knowledge base.

One would argue it was a perfect marriage in the making. As Loki grew older, he found himself naturally attracted to Sigyn’s blossoming. She had grown to be a beautiful woman, adorned with wavy locks, beautiful brown eyes and soft, sienna colored skin. She was kind and gentle, but also very confident with herself and with her abilities. While the deal was still to be sealed, both did share hidden kisses and intimate touches behind corridors, away from eavesdropping guards. At times, the thrill of seeing her and perhaps teasing her by playing with her hair or placing a hand at the small of her back was all he could think of. He pondered about a possibility like that playing out now.

“My prince, I take it you have something else in your mind?” She asked as a coy, pink lipped smile formed.

“Perhaps.” He said teasingly. “I admit, I was beginning to wonder what had taken you so long to approach me Lady Sigyn. Could it be possible you’ve grown bored of me?”

“My prince!” She sounded offended. “What could ever give you that idea? I was simply waiting for the attention to be drawn to Prince Thor. And since it is so, shall we meet by the balcony to discuss our affairs more appropriately?”

“How bold of you my lady. Quite inappropriate to be talking to a prince in such a sultry manner.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, to which he responded with a cocky wink. “Shame on you. But alas, I shall retreat to said balcony all by my lonesome self.”

Loki lowered his head to kiss Sigyn’s forehead, knowing his duty would be to protect her and provide her with the care she so desired. “I shall meet you there soon enough my lady.”

She curtsied again, a flush of pink present in her cheeks. Sigyn soon disappeared behind the columns, far into the depth of the palace. Loki smirked to himself as a comforting warmness filled his chest. Was this love? Or perhaps just the excitement that his youth years would blind him to. He knew sooner or later, both Odin and Sigyn’s father would come to an agreement, and Loki would become her betrothed.

He once had a conversation about the possibility with Frigga. Who best to provide Loki with sound judgement to determine if Sigyn would indeed be a good wife? As any young Asgardian would, Loki shared his uncertainties with his mother. He understood the duty he would uptake once as a married man, while still addressing his duties as Odin’s son.

It seemed to make the most sense, and it was almost expected at this point. Loki and Sigyn simply got along well, they were both skilled and highly intelligent, and both came from nobility. The union of their families would make for some very powerful heirs, which was always an interest for Odin. Yet, the sense of doubt naturally picked at him. He was still young, and arguably inexperienced. Love, while the concept not foreign to him, was a new experience, and Loki wasn’t sure whether this was what he felt for Sigyn.

Frigga, knowing her son best, provided Loki with words of encouragement, for which he forever continued to carry with him.

“Trust your intuition Loki. Perceive your happiness with them, as the best blessing a partner can offer you is the opportunity to grow beside them. I believe in you, my son.”

Both Loki and Sigyn soon became engaged, and for a brief moment in his long life, Loki felt as his everything had fallen correctly into place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ugh. Come on.”

Loki popped one eye open upon hearing your groan. You had propped yourself up against your pillow, texting away furiously on the bright screen of your phone. The light was absolutely blinding, especially in the middle of the night. He blinked and squinted, catching how you had knitted your eyebrows together. You were rightfully annoyed, and he deducted you must have been awakened by the beeping of your device.

“Who has upset my dearest?” He asked, covering his eyes with his hand.

“Tony wants me to go in tomorrow for some maintenance crap. I’m telling him to stop messaging me in the middle of the night.” You responded, voice still groggy.

He made a disapproving sound. “I am not eager about Stark having contact with you so frequently. He’s a fool, and now he has disturbed my slumber with you.”

You tossed your phone by your dresser and pulled the sheets up to your face. You scooted closer to Loki, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Loki’s body responded, soon placing his arm around your waist, hand resting on the small of your back.

“He’s my boss, his money pays my bills. But yes he’s stupid.” You muttered under the sheets.

“You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing you insult him.” He chuckled lowly. “You certainly have way with words.”

“Also, if I would have never gotten hired by him, I would have never met you. So technically-”

He shushed you immediately. “No. Do not dare say Stark’s intervention brought us together. I’d like to believe it was simply meant to be due to my charm and charisma.”

You snorted, your breath tickling the skin on his neck. “Fine, fine. I won’t say it. I gotta admit tho, you look super cute whenever you get upset by that.”

“Then it is no wonder why you always seem to infuriate me.”

You both laid together quietly, your soft breaths beginning to lull Loki back into that blissful comfort. His arm continued to be looped around your waist, bringing a deep, inward sense of protectiveness. You were small compared to him, yet it had come to a point where he needed to feel your body closer to his, clinging onto him for security. It was bizarre. He knew his past self would have never dreamed of the day where he would lay in bed with a human, much less have an intimate relationship with a human. The prospect was very difficult to accept at first, especially considering the circumstances of how he had settled down on Midgard. Despite this, Loki weirdly felt as if this made the most sense to him. The planet he swore to conquer almost a decade ago, now became his home. The humans, which he swore to conquer, had now accepted him to some degree. And now, he proudly called one of these humans as his own. This foolish human who had presented him with kindness, genuineness and often made him upset at the foolish comments they would make.

He relished in your touch, and how soft your skin felt. He found himself always seeking out your touch. There was a contrasting difference between human and Asgardian skin. Human skin always felt much more delicate and thinner, while Asgardians tended to have tougher and firmer skin. Your skin would bruise easily, especially if his grip would become harsh. He sadistically liked this, feeling as if he could easily mark you at any moment, claiming territory on this small Midgardian. He mindlessly began to make circles in the small of your back, feeling the shivers spread all over.

He smiled to himself once he felt your own arms loop under his arms, circling his broad chest. You picked your head out from under his chin, and reached up to plant a sleepy kiss upon his lips. A blessing for him. Your lips were much too tender for him to bear, and he kissed and suckled on them in return.

You giggled and pulled back from him briefly. “I need to sleep but I don’t want to anymore now.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?” He asked, smile still displayed.

“Yes. I just really want to get on top of you now. And maybe kiss you all over.”

He hummed approvingly. “I don’t have any reason to stop you. You have laid claim to me already, human.”

Eagerly, you removed your hold and climbed over him, your thighs tightly at his hips. He adjusted himself, just enough so he could ensure his grip on your waist would be secure. You lowered down to his face, peppering it all over with fleeting kisses and pecks. You ended on his lips again, this time kissing deeper and passionately, leaving Loki practically breathless. At times your displays of affection were overwhelming. Humans were always so physical with each other, and always giving themselves into that intense gratification. it was years and years since Loki experienced this type of fondness and the lustful pleasure of feeling someone on top of him. He was undeniably attracted to you, his little human, who proved their worth by his side. Tongues soon clashed with one another, and Loki groaned into your mouth, already feeling his blood rush into his core.

He halted however, knowing you would be reprimanded the following day if you stayed up the entire night. He hated Stark, but he also didn’t want to jeopardize your working relationship with him.

“Sweetling, although I would love nothing more than to fuck you right now, perhaps it is wiser for you to get some rest.”

Even Loki could see your childish pout through the dim light of the window. “I hate it when you’re right.” You said, laying your head on his chest in defeat.

He leaned inward and planted a reassuring kiss at the top of your head. “Once you are done with your duties tomorrow, we can resume our intimacy in the evening.”

You rolled off of him, still laying close by his side, arms clinging onto his chest. “Knowing myself though, I might annoy you about it in the morning instead.”

“Then sleep now. And I promise you will be awakened by a very pleasant surprise.”

The rest of the night continued, and soon Loki felt you doze off into deep sleep. He remained awake, as he always did, until you were fully resting. He focused his attention still to the weight of your arm over his chest, slowly caressing your hand with his. Loki began to feel his eyelids droop, slowly drawing back to a familiar memory, and a familiar set of words which he had forgotten about long ago.

He felted blessed with you. And his intuition affirmed it every single day.

[jakattax]

I was a lucky kid growing up, my family were largely bohemian and didn’t really pressure me at all to fall into a particular crowd or scene. For the most part I was left to decide my own hobbies and interests, which I feel as a working class northerner is an oddity. I was largely uninterested with anything considered the norm, I found the perception of normality to be terribly boring. I lived in my own mind, fuelled by my still present wild and colourful imagination, and nothing fuelled my imagination more than the idea of magic. Films like the ‘Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Excalibur’ were Bible to me, any media with witches, wizards and sorcerers utterly enamoured thing. I believe this fundamental obsession revolves around the concept of power, that these mystical men and women could achieve the impossible and bend reality by possessing a power that no hero-knight or any other could possess. The wizard or witch was a solitary creature, usually ostracised or eccentric, both qualities I possessed as a child. And so it was a common pastime for me to find the best stick that would act as my staff and to jump around the woods pretending to be Gandalf. I knew that magic could only ever exist in my own imagination and I stuck to this falsehood for many years. After a trip to the goth haven of Whitby with my grandparents, I realised that magic was very much real and was not limited to book, screen or my own closed mind. I bought a hazel wand (inscribed with ‘Blessed Be’ in futhark) from a Wicca supply shop and my first book of magic. This book of shadows was my prized object, with only the media portrayal of magic at my disposal I knew that every enchanter possessed their own book of spells, while mine wasn’t bound in human skin and written in odd runes, it was magic, real magic. Another very vivid memory was that a bought a handsome besom from the same shop, a gorgeous birch broomstick wrapped in colour silk, and so on our trip to the north York moors I placed the broom between my legs and jumped up and down over the heather. Alas I did not fly. Only in my mind.

Wicca was truly my gateway into my magical studies, even though I was very young I had absolute conviction that magic was very much real and tangible, I even recall having a particular fondness for a rain spell which seemed to work without fail. Naturally my new obsession with real magic just pushed me further from the grain of normality, thank God. Yet the older I got I started to become disenchanted. Like all teenagers I went through a period of abandoning childhood fantasies to focus on my image or popularity. Who I socialised with and how I looked over-rided any past passions. It is something I feel remarkably ashamed over, yet adolescence is a period in life in which one wears many masks for the sake of an easy time, even though I was bullied none the less for my bookish and overall weak disposition. But no-one could know I use to dress up in a pointy hat and make it rain. I killed that part of my childhood. This abandonment of magic continued until I was 16.

I was now in college and was the worst sycophant to a particular friend who I followed blindly. He was the coolest kid in college, a Casanova, I was discovering my own sexuality and realised too that I was deeply in love with him. Again I was sacrificing my core personality, but not for long. I was a theatre kid, and bloody good at it too, our first year assessment was based on the performance of a classical monologue. Know I don’t know exactly how I decided on it, or how I even knew of it, but I settled on Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’ to perform. I was a committed and serious young actor, finally in s subject that I cared for and excelled in so I conducted research into how i wanted to stage the piece. In my mind I wanted the stage littered in books and scraps of paper all bearing occult symbols, yet I didn’t know any. I didn’t want to cheapen the performance by having blank scraps of paper, they needed to be Faustus’ magical and alchemical work, so I used the library computer to find some.

And the gates opened.

Like a child again I was reading about magic, real magic again but this time I found a new mindset. In my research looking up Occult symbols to litter my set with, I came across a name, a name steeped in controversy to this day, the wickedest man in the world; Aleister Crowley. Reading up on Crowley and MacGregor Mathers brought me to a new and dangerous form of magic, the magic of the ceremonial magician. While indeed Wiccans and witches take their art and practise very seriously, there was something about the strict Methodology and science like nature of ceremonial magic that appealed to me more. Changing the weather was great and all but demon conjuration? Intricate magic circles and glyphs? Spirit evocation? Yes please, this was the magic that I wanted. And so I purchased my first Grimoire of ceremonial magic, the Ars Goetia.

This was a book I carried with pride, it was a conversation starter, I was the kid who studied demons. My image had changed after my then best friend moved to university, gone was the preppy and popular false Jack, now was the time for a brooding, dark clothed Jack who read Shelley, Byron and books of demon summoning in his spare time. To be frank it’s not a phase I’ve quite broken yet either.

As enamoured as I was by the Ars Goetia, I was no fool, I knew that in terms of practicality it was something I could not attempt, yet. The magic was complex, the tools seemed impossible to acquire and so I sat on my grand schemes of being a conjured per excellence, yet the flames in my mind were raging.

Three years later I moved to Nottingham for my university education, wonderful city. for the first time in my life I was with strangers who had no preconceived notions about me. I could wear a new mask. Yet I chose the hard path, I was at university so one should act as a university don should, I bought tweed suits from charity shops, wore a bow tie and started to smoke a pipe. I found rebellion by not being normal, fuck normality, the new Jack would never bow down to popularity again. I call my university years some of the darkest of my life, not only because of the daily cocktails of alcohol, drugs and severe bouts of depression but because these were the years in which I honed my craft as a goete.

I had the good fortune of renting flats with basements and because my flatmates were dull football types brainwashed by heteronormative coding, they were naturally scared of it and didn’t go down there. And as horribly cliched and Hollywood as it is, I began conjuring demons in the basement. Even though I had been studying the Goetia for a few years now, I still lacked pretty much everything needed, other than my own conviction. I used chalk for my circle and triangle of art, candles for mood lighting and some sticks of incense and began conversing to the shadows. The crazy thing is, the shadows spoke back. I knew that I had the crossed a threshold in which there was no return, while I had achieved magic with fairly simple effects, now I had truly pierced the veil and was openly seeing, speaking and listening to demons. The glass of reality had cracked, I was in a new world in which magic was the only truth. I had demon spirits perform many many tasks for me, some failed, some excelled. I tried to hone in my skills, realise mistakes and amend them. Then I started branching out, with my knowledge increasing I came into contact with more books, more new information and magic to discover; the Verum, the Cyprian texts, Agrippa, Abra-Melin etc. Etc.

Yet this was closeted. While I was unashamedly eccentric, I had too much against me as a gay man and an oddity. I suffered extreme bullying again and thanks to my depression made a suicide attempt, if anyone knew I was in the basement ordering demons to attack those who wronged me, it would be fatal to me. Or so I thought. The layman perceives magic as nonsense, Harry Potter glitter Magic that simply isn’t real and if you believe in it you either have too many cats or are just delusional. They do not understand that magic and only magic is the highest form of science there is, the microscope or telescope can see hidden things that the eye cannot yet so can a scrying ball. For all the wonders that science can perform and demonstrate, it cannot lift the eyelids on the falsehoods of reality, only through magic can we truly see between the lines and realise that the mundane world is shrouded in mysteries that only magic can answer. And so due to this fear of being stigmatised, I kept my magic a secret.

For the best part of a decade I studied and practised Ceremonial magic in private. Whenever my parents or housemates we’re out I’d grab my tools and begin my work. My library was growing, my collection of magical tools too, I was growing and flowering into a proficient 21st century Magus. Then two years ago I decided fuck it. I was tired of keeping a fundamental part of my spiritual beliefs and occult practises silent and so I outed myself as a ceremonial magician. Not to much fanfare however, everyone seemed largely indifferent, probably just another one of jack’s eccentricities. But no, magic is no hobby, no idle pastime or frivolity to me, magic is in my Veins and every breath, it is my true calling in life to study, explore and understand my place in this world through the Occult sciences. I am a magician who can charm you or tear you to pieces just as easily, I live in a demimonde of illusion, I achieve the impossible.

When you sit before the scrying glass and see a spirit looking into your eyes, you must reject all notions of a normal reality and accept wholeheartedly that magic is real.

[emisonme]

Find You Again.......

For me, Find You Again is not a break-up/heartbreak song. It is a beautiful love song. It is a lyrical love letter to the love of her dreams. (or love of her life, if you prefer)

Before I get into the analysis, let me start by saying, there is no way Camila is going to use lyrics, she wrote as a teenager, and incorporate them into a love song she is writing about in the present...Unless the person she is writing about now, is the same person she was writing about, as a 16 year old kid.

Camila is to talented a lyricist to have to recycle lyrics. Especially lyrics from a song that was leaked, that we have all heard, and that we know was written when she was a kid. In my opinion, this is her way of letting us, this 2019 love song is indeed about the same person she was writing about all those years ago.

I am pretty confident in that opinion, because I also have no hesitancy in saying, Find You Again was written about the same person NBTS was written about. The same person All These Years and Consequences was written about. The same person U Shaped Space and Only Told The Moon was written about. The list goes on and on. Don't believe me? Listen to all those songs I listed, then listen to Find You Again. It shouldn't be difficult to make the connections.

OK, Let's get to analyzing this song. I'll start with something Camila said about the song. She said,  she came up with the title concept of "I know I'll never find you again" back last year, in 2018. That those lyrics were from the perspective of losing the person she was in love with. That's exactly how the song begins. From the perspective of "If I lose you..."

"I'll try to pass the night away with somebody knew/ but they don't have a shot when I compare them to you/ It's too late, too late/ Baby I know I'll never find you again/ find you again."

Here, she is telling the person, directly, that if she loses them she'll try to move on, but it would be an impossible task. It's too late , because she would always compare everyone else to them, and she'll never be able to find them in someone else.

The first verse is from the perspective of a time when they were actually broken up. She is telling them the experience she had, of trying to move on.

"Baby, Baby, I/ walk in the late night/ looking for your eyes/ put up a fight to find you/ lose it every time/ you were the last of your kind/ all of the blame's mine."

She is telling them, that she went out and tried to find someone new, but in doing so, the only thing she found herself looking for, was them. The same eyes. Remember the eyes are the windows to the soul. She was looking for their soul in the eyes of others. She really tried to find someone who could replace them in her heart, but it was to know avail. She was looking for them, in everyone else she meets. (wasn't there a reblog about this) They are a one of a kind. The last of their kind. The one and only to have a permanent place in her heart.

The "all of the blame's mine" could have a double meaning here. She is taking responsibility for the situation she finds herself in. She is to blame for not being able to move on, because she doesn't want to move on.

The other meaning could be, she is taking responsibility for their break-up. Not because she necessarily did something wrong, but because she took what they had for granted. This is a common occurrence, especially in youth. Young lovers always have a tendency to think, love is enough.

When one has been in a relationship with someone, for a while, they become complacent. Everything becomes routine. They become desensitized to their importance. You love them, they love you, and you simply assume that is enough. That you will never lose them...until you do.

Then you find yourself wondering what the hell happened. You don't realize, until it's too late, that something is wrong. You just assumed, that everything would be OK, because they love you, you love them, and that's all that matters. It's enough to work through anything, right?

Loving someone is easy. Being in a loving relationship with someone isn't. A relationship is something you have to constantly work and fight for, because there is always something trying to tear it apart. Doubt, fear, trust, jealousy, anxiety, other people, all become a factor when you fall in love with someone and try to have a relationship with them.

When you take what you have with someone for granted, become complacent in your routine, and assume what you have together is enough, you stop fighting for it. When you stop fighting for it, you lose it. When you lose it, you realize too late, love wasn't enough. That's when you blame yourself and write lyrics like, "I wish I'd loved you like I miss you". Because when you take love for granted, you never quite know what you have, until you lose it.

"And I remember you told me/ that we could work it all out/ don't you worry/ and now, the tears in your eyes, make it blurry/ but if you say try again, I'd be ready/ I'm ready, yeah."

They both took what they had for granted. But, Camila blames herself for believing when she was told not to worry, that they could work it all out. They always had. She simply believed everything would be fine, when it wasn't. The day came, when they couldn't do it anymore. They needed a break. The love is still there, but the desire to fight through all the pressures to try and make the relationship work, wasn't.

That's when Camila knew, she took what she had for granted. That's when she knew exactly what she had, after she lost it. She'll try yo move on, but she knows she'll be ready for the day they ask her to "try again", because they are THE ONE. No one else compares. Anyone else would always come second to them.  Camila has no desire to settle for second best, when she knows what it feels like to have THE BEST.

The second verse is brilliant. Camila has described it as one of her favorite things she's written. She also said, this verse is full of lyrics she's had since she was 16 years old. Not ALL the lyrics in this verse are from when she was 16. She has adapted some of her older lyrics to fit a more mature 22 year olds experience and wisdom.

Before I get into this verse, I want to say, I think FYA is telling us a story in reverse order. It goes from asking what if I lose you, to their most recent break-up, which I'm thinking was in late 2016, to their problems in 2015, to their problems in 2013/2014.

That said, I think the second verse actually represents two different time frames. I'll break the verse down into my perceived two different time frames.

"Have mercy on me, please/ I messed up to the third degree/ this crush is kind of crushing me/ I do therapy at least twice a week."

This part, I think represents the 2015 drama and possible break. Camila was going through a really tough time with her anxiety in 2015. Especially the later half of 2015.

She has said her mind was fucking with her, to the point she thought everyone was out to get her. Then we find out, she was diagnosed with OCD with intrusive thoughts. The intrusive thoughts that come with OCD, are no joke. These thoughts can come out of nowhere, and they are relentless. They will scare the living shit out of you. You don't know where these thoughts are coming from, because they are not you, or your thoughts, at all. They are OCD thoughts, and until you learn how to recognize and distinguish which are OCD thoughts and which are your true thoughts, the OCD thoughts become your scary thoughts...and they will only get worse.....(I'll go as far as to say, I'm almost sure management used her diagnosis against her, to help create the 2015 drama.)

This part sounds like Camila is asking for forgiveness. Not only for believing the thoughts in her head, but also allowing herself to be manipulated by THEM, and use her OCD and her feelings against her. (Thankfully, therapy helped the situation)

For FYA, she is putting emphasis on her "crush". We know in late August/early September, she said she wouldn't hesitate to marry her "celebrity crush". (We all know who she was talking about, but shhhh, we aren't supposed to know.) Her OCD, with help from management bullshit, was really making her question everything about her relationship. It was crushing her to the point of breaking.

"There's a you-shaped space in my bed/ always you-shaped thoughts inside my head, like/ I keep pushing them right into you/ La Cienega, where I remember you."

This sounds like 16 year old Camila, to me. She was crushing on a certain someone, hard. That crush began when she was 15. The person she was crushing on, she was also rooming with, and probably even sharing the same bed with, on occasion. They were her new found best friend, after all.

Nothing like crushing on your best friend, right? If you've ever had your crush laying next to you, then you know the kinds of thoughts that were running through Camila's head. She tried to hide her true feelings, but alas she couldn't. Her BFF/crush could read her like a book. Her BFF/crush is an Empath, after all. Camila didn't have a chance to hide her feelings, because she was literally pushing her feeling right into her empathic Bff crush.

Remember, she wrote some of these lyrics when she was 16. That doesn't necessarily mean, all the memories and situations she was writing about all happened when she was 16. With that said, this whole La Cienega thing has me taking shots in the dark.

Camila was unknowingly "pushing" her feelings into her crush, before her crush was ready to accept those feelings, or acknowledge their own feelings. Maybe, and it's a strong maybe, that's what the whole La Cienega thing means. She wishes they could go back to when they were on X-Factor. The way she remembers her crush, before all these damn complicating feeling got in the way.

Anyways, that's my take on Find You Again. This song is depicting the ups and downs of a relationship that has spanned years. It is a song that has taken six years to complete. It's a song about a relationship that started as a friendship, developed into a major crush, that eventually developed into a relationship that Camila Cabello has been writing love songs about, ever since.

In summary, Find You Again is a beautiful lyrical love letter, Camila wrote for the love of her dreams. She is telling them, no matter where they are, together or apart, she will always be waiting for them. Waiting for them to either come home, or tell her they are ready to "try again".

This person is the only one Camila wants. They are the only one Camila wants to give her heart to. Camila knows, she would never be able to find another "you". Someone with the same heart, the same soul, the same passion. "You" are the last of "your" kind. Camila will "never find you again", because there is only ONE YOU!!!!!

Aren't you proud of me. I stuck to gender neutral pronouns, and kept this whole post neutral. I am nowhere near delusional...................By the way, wasn't Lauren on X-factor with Camila? Didn't Camila and Lauren room together?...Didn't Lauren come out as Bi---and an Empath?......Interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {5}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4. Siren’s Song

5. Words of Wisdom

Kristoff was pretty close to being a prince now, sure. But he was always a man of the wilderness, first and foremost. As such, he spent most of his time with Sven in the stables, still. He idly strummed at his lute, just hanging out with his buddy for a while.

He had been surprised by the return of Hans' horse to the stables, but Anna has gone on about the prince's return, so that made sense. He wasn't going to judge the horse for his rider.

The last thing he expected that day, of course, was the Queen.

Elsa made note to check on Sitron's treatment after meeting with the Prince earlier that day, and not knowing for sure what they were doing to his horse.

She had made some time to go visit the stables herself after catching up on most of her paperwork.

When she arrived at the sables it was rather quiet. She was so focused on seeing Sitron that she had not realized she was not alone.

Kristoff was sitting around, strumming on his lute, but he paused when the Queen arrived to check up on Sitron.

"Good afternoon, 'Else." Kristoff hummed. The one nice thing about being close to the royal family, he could stop with the 'your majesty' and 'your highness' business unless he was being cute or extra formal for some reason. He resumed the lute, casually, not wanting to make it seem like he was in her business.

"Not often I see you here." He was curious, but he also recognized that none of this was technically his business. He was there if she needed to talk. He would mind his own if she didn't. He was pretty chill about those things.

The sudden sound of Kristoff's voice startled her a bit, causing bits of ice to shoot from her hands. She really should have checked if the coast was clear before entering the stables, but alas it too late now she'd been caught and there was no turning back.

It embarrassed her a bit that she did not notice such a Gigantic Man. How could she have been so distracted not to hear the strumming of the Lute?

" Oh, Kristoff, Good Afternoon, " she stammered out as she turned to face his direction.

" Yeah," she answered nervously. " Just thought I'd come check on the horses."

Kristoff paused. "Sorry to surprise you. I'm not used to being sneaky." He joked gently, checking to make sure she didn't damage anything with the ice.

"Are you okay?" She wasn't usually so tense. He was observant, but he didn't use that the way Hans did. Kristoff would be Kristoff no matter who was there. He assessed people to see what they needed, not what he needed to be.

Elsa took notice of Kristoff's keen eye, it made her wonder if all men were this astute or if it was just a trait of the ones she knew.

Elsa let out a sigh in defeat. She might as well open up to him, after all he was a good listener.

"Yeah, but truth be told I only really came to check on Sitron," She admitted sheepishly. Elsa tried to stretch out her hand to pet the Fjord Horse's face, but it was to no avail, he just jerked back and avoided her touch. She grumbled at her failure to befriend the horse. " I just remembered I promised to take good care of him, and wanted to make sure I kept my word."

Kristoff nodded, thoughtfully. "Herd animals can sense when you're scared." He explained simply. He wandered over and offered a hand to the horse, to see if Sitron would take an interest in him. He was always pretty calm, or at least very good at operating under pressure. "I can imagine why you never got too used to horses." He didn't need to watch her to get that idea. She froze everything she touched. He'd want to stay away from animals too, back then. Getting used to them now, now that her powers were mostly under control, it would be more difficult.

"You seem bothered, but not in the way I'd expect you to be." It was just an observation. She could tell him, or she could keep it to herself. He would be open and listen if she had things to say. Elsewise, he'd mind his own business. That was generally how he was. He was always listening to Anna when she got in a rambling mood, and unlike most, he took a keen interest in what she had to say, even if sometimes he looked distracted, he always came back with something to contribute to the conversation when he had something of interest for her. He wouldn't pretend to understand politics, but he had wisdom, when he chose to share it.

Even with her powers more controlled, there was still so much that she was unable to do, so much she missed out on in her childhood, and had to learn now.

Elsa sighed.

"Huh? Not bothered in the way you'd expect? And what way would you'd expect?" she asked curiously. She wanted to open up to him, and hear his outlook, but she needed to find a way to start.

Starting a Conversation between two people that are so used to being on the listener side rather than being talkers is a bit hard, not impossible, but definitely a challenge.

Kristoff patted the horse's nose, then it's neck, calm as ever.

"Your attempted murderer is nearby, but you don't seem nervous for your life. You've always been very relaxed about that." He seemed more understanding than surprised about that fact.

"You seem nervous about something else. I don't know what, and I'm not convinced that you do, either. You have a habit of being nervous about people. I suppose that's as good a thing as any to be worried about." He thought about it a bit, it almost seemed like he was done talking, but Kristoff liked to roll thoughts in his head a bit, to see what would come of them.

"Your powers act up when you listen too much to your head, and not enough to your heart. Innate magic is like a wild animal, or like this horse. It doesn't listen to words, it listens to feelings. So, what are you feeling? It doesn't have to make sense. Feelings often don't. But sometimes listening to those can save your life. I listen when my gut tells me to get off the ice. It stops me from falling through." His advice was unusually knowledgeable, but he did grow up with the trolls. It was just, nobody asked him. So he usually didn't volunteer his thoughts.

Elsa was still astonished at Kristoff's ability to read her like a book, it was like his own own magic power. It was hard to believe they were both the same age and yet he was so much wiser.

This was the opening she was looking for, to let it all out. She let out a deep sigh.

"You're right," She looked down at her hands. "That's never fazed me,"she said truthfully. "My concern has and will always be Anna over myself." To Elsa, her sister was more important than her own life.

Elsa brought her hands up closer, still looking down at them, pensively.

"I've just had a lot on my mind ever since-" she trailed off for a moment, try to find the words to continue. "...you know, he returned to Arendelle... confusion more than anything," she paused. " ...Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

"It's true, I need to get out of my head," she determinedly agreed. 'What am I feeling?' she asked herself. " I'm so confused, I don't even know what I feel..." Elsa let out another sigh. "But your right I need to start listening to my heart more, it just feels so right when I do, sometimes I forget it," she brought one hand up against her heart. "Kristoff you seem to understand my magic better than I do," Elsa lightly laughed. "You're so wise." she lightly ruffled his hair with her free hand for a moment as she said it. Kristoff was like a brother to her now, sometimes she felt compelled to act sisterly.

Starting letting go of the load of her pent-up thoughts and feelings was relieving, like taking a heavy load off her chest, she just wished she could let herself open up to Anna. Telling Kristoff was easy, but telling Anna was different she felt had far more to lose with her.

Kristoff chuckled a little, especially at the playful hair-ruffling. "Yeah, well. Not to make it a big thing, but my family are the rock trolls, and they do magic. So I sort of learned about magic too. I mean I can't do anything fancy, but my element is water and I use that to master ice harvesting. I know where water is. I can sort of 'sense how your magic is feeling' if that makes sense?" He cringed a bit and offered an iffy hand wave. He recognized it sounded weird. Or worse, like witchcraft. "It's not very impressive. Sven can do the same with plants, so he never stumbles in the forest."

"So, if you're wondering if you're doing the right thing: What are you doing now? What does your head want, and what does your heart want? Anna is important, but you have to recognize yourself sometimes, too. Your family -and I am including myself while I'm dating and hopefully someday maybe marrying your sister possibly- loves you. We'd all lose it if you were gone, so try to remember yourself. You are a human, no matter how many amazing powers you have. You have to be kind to yourself to survive." He hedged a lot with the possible marrying, but it was clear he did that out of shy nervousness, not doubt in their relationship. More doubt in himself-- and possibly how Elsa might take the suggestion. After all, the last time a guy proposed to her sister, Elsa froze the place.

So, he could sense how her magic was feeling, she didn't quite understand exactly how he was capable of perceiving it, but did recognize his instinctive connection to it. "That makes sense."

She was reflective of his words. What was she doing now? She was trying her best to fulfill her duty as Queen. What did her head want? Her head wanted to do what was best for everyone, her family, her kingdom. And lastly what did her heart want? Her heart wanted to do what was best for Anna, it wanted to be compassionate, and it strongly wanted something more, but she didn't quite understand it or how to satisfy it's desire.

She had to recognize herself, that was easier said than done, being kind to herself was something she still had trouble doing. But she had to at least try, for her family that loved her, to survive.

" I'm only human," she smiled at the thought. "It's nice to be reminded of that sometimes." Sometimes her mind would wander, and she would doubt her humanity, she often  felt like a Monster hiding behind human skin.

"That's right. We all forget a little bit sometimes, I think. You perhaps more than most." He observed.

Kristoff thought for a long moment, not wanting to intrude on Elsa's thoughts, with a few of his own as well.

"Forgive me for asking, and don't answer if you don't want to, but... I'm curious, why? Why keep him here when we know what he's done? What changed? And why did he come back? If you know?" It wasn't malice or doubt in Elsa's decisions, only curiosity, for himself. He had no reason to doubt Elsa's decisions. He was only curious why she made them as she did. He figured she must have some royal insight that he didn't.

Those were all questions Anna had asked her as well, when she first revealed the news of Hans' return. Elsa had been in a different mindset at the time. She had not gone into much detail as to why Hans would now reside in the Kingdom's Dungeon. Anna had been clearly upset, of course, but had not pressed for much more information, trusting her judgement. What had really calmed Anna was Elsa claiming that she was no longer personally interact with the Prince (outside of the daily journals), but that didn't go as planned. Oh dear, do some things ever change.

Elsa time to process her thoughts since that day, and could better answer those questions. She would give in to Kristoff's  curiosity, she really need to talk about her decision, and Kristoff was a good listener to open up to.

Elsa hummed a sigh.

" You know... I originally decided to send him back to the Southern Isles...but-" she admitted. " It just...it just didn't feel right." She began pulling at her braid with her hands. "...I didn't think I would ever see him set foot in Arendelle again, let alone allow him to stay," she snorted. "...There was just a lot to consider during his deliberation."

"Where do I even start?" she softly sighed. "He came to 'provide if asked,'" she quoted Hans. " To surrender himself to whatever I saw fit. All he asked was to be kind to his horse." She looked intently at Sitron, pausing for a moment, thinking of how to continue.

"...I know I must take everything he says with a grain of salt, with all things considered," she started pensively. "Yet... he said some things that rang true, that I simply couldn't ignore."

Maybe she'd gone off on a slight tangent.

"Why allow him to stay here instead of sending him back? I really don't know," she confessed. "He said he wished to atone for what he's done, and ...maybe I wanted to be a fair Queen, that grants even him, a chance of atonement, even if it meant keeping him in the Dungeon." Or maybe it was something else she still wasn't quite sure.

"But just because I let him stay in Arendelle doesn't mean I forgive him for his actions. He himself did not ask for forgiveness, he knew it was something I could never give him. I can't forgive and forget what he did to Anna, never." she said bluntly.

Kristoff was silent, letting Elsa go on at length. When she was done, he stayed that way, rolling over his thoughts as usual.

"You know, from what you tell me, I think I'd believe him, too." Kristoff was famously suspicious, and he certainly wouldn't trust Hans, but the words rang true to him.

"He could still be up to something, don't get me wrong, but the things you tell me make more sense than they did before. To surrender to a foreign government that hates you and only plead for your horse? That sounds pretty honest. 'Sounds like something I'd do." He nodded over to Sven.

"You sent him home, where justice might be swept under the rug, or enacted more harshly. Is that fairness, or kindness? I suppose it depends which happens. I would call it kindness, but my home is kind." He didn't know where he was going with that, per se. It was just an intriguing thought he'd had.

"That's interesting, that he didn't ask for something he knew he could never have. Most men would beg forgiveness, and never truly have it. It figures that he wouldn't try that. He's very 'all or nothing', a false hope is worse than none. What do you suppose he wanted to happen? Or what he expected? Now I'm curious about this guy. I don't think we ever traded words." Kristoff nearly punched him, but he let Anna do that.

Elsa smiled at Kristoff's understanding.

"I'm not quite certain what he expected, I have a hard time reading him," Elsa said musingly. "...He is a very curious man indeed."

Kristoff and Hans never interacted outside the encounter on the fjord. It made Elsa wonder what a conversation between the two perceptive men would even look like, had they been given the chance.

He tilted his head a bit. "Why the emphasis? Doubting his manhood, or his personhood?" Again, no judgement, only curiosity. And maybe a hint of a joke, though perhaps it would be better if she didn't acknowledge that.

Elsa picked up on Kristoff's wordplay. Her eyes had widened for a brief moment and she could feel a slight heat rising up to her face. His bawdy humor had caught her off guard, but she didn't mind it. Kristoff was a Mountain man after all, he could be a bit crude, but it was part of his character, and she appreciated that he could still be himself, even in the presence of the Queen.

"Before his return to Arendelle, I might have been more inclined to believe he was nothing more than a monster, but things aren't always what they seem... and even he has humanity."

Kristoff looked amused at her being startled. She was the one who put the emphasis on, after all, he was just teasing her gently about it.

"Yeah, men and monsters can look a lot alike, depending on what they've done. In my experience, some men can be monsters, yes. But they're rare. Unfeeling, or uncaring. Some, though, just seem monstrous because we only see half their story. Sometimes I wonder if there are no monsters, and I've only seen or heard of their most monstrous sides. After all, I was raised by trolls. They say trolls kidnap children from their homes and replace them, but I remember where I was before I met the trolls. Going between homes through the ice harvesters, a different family every few days, sort of a 'community kid'. Maybe trolls never kidnapped kids, maybe they just saved the ones that didn't want to be where they were, and that's where the stories come from. Winners write history, that's why witches get burned." He shrugged, a little annoyed by that thought.

"I'm glad I live in Arendelle. Magic is too important to me and my family, and you and yours. I just wonder, what side didn't we see?" He wondered about a lot of things. There was a lot of downtime in his life, and he got to think about a lot of things in it.

Elsa appreciated having opened up to Kristoff, his perceptiveness always helped see things in ways she might not have thought of otherwise. She reached out to pet Sitron this time he didn’t recoil and she gently touched his nose.

"I wonder about that too," she said pensively.

What side had she not seen? She wondered to herself. Her mind wandered back to Hans, she wondered what side of him she had yet to see. He had started opening up to her, at least it felt that way, and she was starting to see the side of him she didn't think she ever would.