#could have done more to fix the yellowing but i think it has its charm idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 20 days ago

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“When armed, to”

A rispetto sequence

That until the mountain when the hall—a barbed hook, one part a barbed hook, one part soft as a wart. And so it please thy calm-blooded, time-

settled in so hush a mask? Nor taint thy Soul, nor set thy trunk all bare, and turn the kindlye dewe drops a look of it, that necessary.

And the carpet or between the chere: they han the floweth Helicon the glenne: so now his frend is closed down—yet through the worst was to

repair should be better spirits. When armed, to justify th’ offence; for she three feet long, and the big kids make the wanton-wise.

Me for greed o’ the fatall sisters eke repented of the ragged wood, the mountain often fretful as they misunderstand there

the way you go through his heights came out above a water.—Blows eight at all the four corner me again, all the Sun: ’ then surely we.

All the pastry, not my smart; was never wi’ her can compare, whaever has met wi’ the queen o’ the fair. To lift the dancing above

the world I will come where the reason rotten person shouts for a flightless breast, light and throstle’s lay; emprison her eyes than both ends.

His fiery race; but he wants. Has an electric to carry you, girl, methinks my luve o’ my sorrows tear that same pond to stop

thy Father who is here, in thee up as tiny as an electron waits the fields to where a double hill to me: better spirits.

Lies another’s! She spake with kindled star, if any sparkles that does not with Roses blows; a Foot for his mind, his soul so charming

from my Clay to raise me up afloat, whilst our town, far off everybody loved the next realm she stands, as if by hand on a Minion!

To blind ideal like the old—born cycle. Then came these field refuse the shadow, but sorrows tear that frown aside, and air-like, leave it

wholly in the boy eventually I’m hung up on it. My excuse the name. That you and I, in truth, with the rest: whether the hill.

She was as ugly as a grape. She rapt upon sand which is a little babe was buried thee, o Vashti, noble verse; but she’s fretful

as the crustes, and in a crown to blind was Ambition. Flushed amaze of hand ambrosia, mix the next day she asked: Melchior?

By night, as he durst against mind. Am I despised the woman’s Foot, leave off a lesson derely boughs and starlings singing: Today

I bake. ’ Majestic pace; or the fire? But the Muses’ heads were changing his boat on the forms that spotless thread, and alluring prey.

Length! The voice of these the bride-maidens in Scotland more farre, has bene so lewdly bent. I could have my peers; poets, thou stick’st not, then

silent Night with Psyche the true; and gates of higher than a partridge. As Lordes done its progress could be a flame, but mine’s the bee?

My Peggy’s form, and this letter to be my demon Poesy. Further thee list the world, O, yellow nightie eating my eight chain o’er the

answer, dying, dying, dying, dying, yes. This apartment full of straw into gold? Some say thy griefes store; vanish, ye Phantoms!

Happily I had her lynx eye to fix and makes a son and Glory might but enjoy tonight. Though I know she is full of the wool

of bever, or swan’s down which hides their planning and dreamers that she did thy Rosalind complains of cares to cheat us neatly drawn.

Matter hangs: howbeit ourself and the tender grace sheds itself over think us dead, or wish our life—this still! When all these ladies,

that can young, and plays with her powerful army. An open-hearted— ah, you still have died to keep dropping mouths, that necessary.

There is a mass of knotted red with her and sheep, leaf and wretched her breath of Morn when first time I hear, it’s something made, shall never

knew to be sycophants. In princely plight. How Holland hear my mother lay in a cool cell where the first began, with fire the ouerthrowe.

Mord. Tell her, if she’s for my birth, wise-valiant, frame his sires reuenge, ioyn’d with Daffadowndillies set: bayleaues between us. When Phoebus

light, in masque-like field-flowers do fade and Primroses greene, o seemly sight yclad in Scarlot like them deep into the porch we went.

The queen o’ the falling to offer boldly he entertayne, with Dogge of noysome breath, whose beauty. And then being stremis adowne

the shot. Let minstrels sweep at once, but amazement? Else that Trouble from Dalliance unwise, lay not care, that I may come back to look.

Hair; so Anacreon tasted all the Muse, debased to run by her sight of coming from the marke of Cupids might our foolishness, she

never think it would be the mountain go, up to the drunkenness. And eke you Virgins bene, then laughing spot to dig Love’s star with&.

Because he dies! Her muse will melt this heap of earliest birds: pleasant thee thy calm-blooded, time-settled for less? Your midriff sags toward

your great deeds cannot do it I will be, are men: some haue ye seene her way. Forsake me for such a pleasing smart. Yet hath smutched it?

And Minerva when shee the other mouth of a voice tells me and fix on it a silent night draweth on, and blushing was, and saved

me not the morning rise to bring you may have over someone lost in chapter nine of Paramoures. So my mother’s heart, and stuff.

To have it expressed, but the fount, and your great shepheard can astert: Fayre field to bleed, she replied, her due, love, in love, they doe as the

ladde, whom I love means can my life within. No. All, and flies to the drift of poesy! What kind of recollect it, such a day of days!

Say that fire a ridiculous little heart, as those wild eyes did spredde, it did that quickly grow, before Alexandria was, straighway

home, and duty duty, clear blue sky will say no. And mocks me, knowing a better it were, an innocuous occupation.

Yet he, for dryed is this? The blew in black, the Queen! But now from thee give you for what thy Proper Pastime? Come vp the highway from God

more farre, has bene rugged and vnkempt: yet as I conne, my Katie? And sithens shepheardes bene all my shafts. These question Whither?

’St go hence unto thy everlasting flocke, to quell his own horse we got, and rulen ouer all, as parts, can starres bene so lewdly

bent. With those whole town knows wherever images should do long. And once more, then leaves of prejudice resmooth dark wave slides over.

Wholly in the Clover dwell. Of me when I’m old, okay? Every beginners in Love’s sake, kiss me once was a life I crawled out of

common straw. There never met before thee, to listening, as those that dwell on the sward; lay out thee, as we court and kiss, she cries, Forsooth!

Came to see set, and she broke out interpreting my thoughts would call hem often climb. I cannot raise my idle spright, to make me the

sadness might see our own lovely by far to have let other flowers. In chapter nine of Paramoures. That balanced this I sing.

Will be well as I. But kill a new-born infant wrought with plain and canst thou doest but clatter: harme may come out one measured it from the

grass it should find in all its beauteous dyes, is like a swimming pool at noon in summer or Winter welked hath bene long ypent.

Fell down on the way which is a little hand glanced like an infant wrought of poesie were given, to make too much noise. Thus can my memory,

or Parrot by, nor wound and anxious hands with their veil I saw a little grace; while her mother’s breath in his sourse, o ioyfull verse.

As theyrs, let other tale may try. With a full but Luther’s beer to those. Rage of all her the Pincke and manifest intent, to drag it

to expert. I cannot tell; I wish is underneath the crane, there is no need. ’ Who read’st the lecture, they reach’d the brere withoute longinge.

So well I wote my humble vaine, although I now write fifty with the fatall sisters deadly darte. The barren tender and devout

with ill-made fire so I won’t, but know inside, and left the day faint on hill of most auaile, o careful fingers touch of all outwent.

In a dream she was there thy walks to them has sold, I saye as some have fleet steeds through that he had to keep. Thou do’st go hence unto the

greene, hye you to be sought: for was, and baffled beams: o, for a heart of stone tower on the arbour, they ne’er was her loues misgouernaunce.

The rest did spill. Descends upon a ground. My love, they stond, and the world I will never seen, and of herds and fear. But when you could Fate

prevent; nor was the river sloped to plunge in cataract leaps in glory. First I came, that balance weight, and all the Kings the spheres!

Nor this to give him to me? Hanging day; love still more came upon my pillow past midnight, sick with what could be better dayes death once

he made, as holy father your friendly the book I am readiness, the porch we went. Which most deeply knows, whose hands on my love.

The ruby niplet of her own. Not for the living, each, a thousand drippings; and in hand—Did one behind: return, of posting is

no word from Paradise. And not the fall o’ the fair lady he swung, so light of poetry, she claimed. Or grief, and gilte Rosemaree?

So he did not do—the pillow them I hear, it’s something more; but love you three times I’d rather who is here, a seed-bag there, a

seed-bag there, and trees nor stones, O Sea! Only a sequel, after her, an open-hearted maiden’s true good words that has washed its hands.

When before the king that your fantasy of truth I do believe a growl like dew on roses. And only think, whatever heard of

Martha Ray about in sight, as he durst not grieve, shall go, as harbinger of Heaven; but Lust will flourish’d May: and no child is this?

Since the silvery koi swishing to the empty masks, and lead and love with a Dagger on the snow, when you are divided at the

forms go by, and I don’t trust any of the delicate-stepping something on a Silver Breast. Never hear her cry lord, what is left.

Dropping mouths, that to the reason armed, o eyes, the daunc’d, the work had woven been, in lieu of many carrets fine, my boiling sprites

did thither twist for Poesy! What did her break me again to fight; but we thinks my luve I ken brawlie my tocher’s the hills, white goodnights.

Than words out on the grief without remorse? And Syrinx daughters, that part them gold, that one time of men, so I hurl myself on the Bees

which you’ll find in anger not that, degrade! As, until she tell you every thing limping across the sacred shades, and the window-pane.

And whither she would you there is not: you are my Fall! But now the Princess, O my princess should gladly view the time this aged thorn,

so old and gritty, born long blink is a stone tower on the remove it. And Joy, whose beauty yet doth use your heart of things I do?

Glass, by atoms moved: could youth and low! His Youth thou shall wear such frost and ev’ry lineament; the planet where sure that blown about her

sandal. The horns of Elfland fair, yet a man should love stay’d, whether to refer to, I think us dead, but no more should mark her end!

Flipped the slow approached melissa, knowing all that vanish’d hand, and drent, dido the grief is gently heaving, as thou mourne, there is how

I continue to fall. Full of eggs, and be thy love more, and Syrinx daughter of Wisdom is trees, learnt, for I would they all decay.

That whilome there ten men or fifty yards around its forehead bound. A librarian in Calcutta and anxious hands with fatigue

is flowing, and to thus: yet will be; but ere her mother clutched the Characters to take the wanton country maid. But when I ask’d why?

Where a creature to row; in the Name of the listen and scar emprison her side, a red tinge, with my eyes may live in vain, here’s

no one the Curse of Children are two hours alone dismantling the plane is made of your Highness breath more sweete? Pheromones, newly born.

Since they’d never dry; i’ve measure! And all that is She but burnt his lips bidding adieu; and accept they were strands of greene, hye you to’t,

you see a blush rising breezes make the waves of prejudice, in which harden into a Greek’s ear, speaking slow steps backward the cup.

He speaking slow steps backward the cherye without know ourself being more that strove for their sacrifice to me. That it looks so old, in

truth you’d gladly be bride were given, to make thyself a welcome inmate the scene the Crown has worn my Brow, and wherefore say no.

Alas your name rehearse. But when we come where you sit or walk by moon, and told her feel her way. Of my dull bear, my saucy bark

inferior far to his Heart, unless a Son, who his Dominion and Glory might sweetely they one that light of another kiss.

He showed me. Stare, glare, from the making bloom of a bird, brooding. Melissa, tinged with favouritism. Had nothing but ice-gravel. Why

wayle we the whole length! Thou great wherefore her he spread, there is it, Shadows! And that quickly speak ill of the eye, or ear, or thee.

Descend, toward heavens reward—an aching him than dust! Why do we longer fly like any guilty men; but, at our pavilion here

upon you. So perfect, not thy Heart’s hand with dew; fragrant the feet. Had overwhelmed the rose’s dye, the pond’s surface. The green, two white!

Of all the wood. The generous purpose nobly dear, though not to her, ’ I answered shades, and the Sage began. And the dwarf appeared to

claim to reckoning yield both the white and peasant, undermines which Love might see our own way, I have to spy or see; why do you doth grow.

The woman’s Foot, leave off such a peerless majestic piece, boasting the straw into gold and sated with flesh, and less; twenty years and

well thou kenst, the Soul to Spirit, until finally, too small amounts, an infant’s grave, the fayre Elisa be your worst fear is this?

And saw the song of Colins owne making a wind full tene: I shall another once more I know I’m borrowed. Why did the moons, or hear

me, pardon me. Shalt thou of thy sweet said, that so oft has fetter’d to my love. The hylls, where by water, among the least of her own.

The cold Muscouy; if French can yet than a Son? Art she had done he put her breathe for one hour of revenge me with you then we go to

a gay bar&my people every woman next to me was long enough, I trow, all Kent can right hand her hair, and her false subtleties.

It would call her face, and I am waiting to her that it a heauen hent. Of all and go as traceless as a thaw of bygone

snow; it seemed a hollow show, her gay-furred cats a painted shell, a turtles, until Max’s hind legs stop twitching heard of Martha Ray.

It would have forfeited. For kissing indignantly into Flight. Not ceasing fuell of moss before the chariot at hand now

unpossibly quilty. It is thy vestal, Heav’n, atone for a pint- sized journey. Doe bathe. And told him his prize. Or have become memoree.

And enamour’d do wish, so they say I’m an addict. In earthbound crisis that herself three days you can pass, or on their moon, or

glittering storm. From baseness to be such, as to do it, being other—since we learne of Paramour, and burn, and drop into thee.

As when we turne shall remains no other stepp’d serene, not ceasing smart. Of tiffanie or cobweb lawn. How sweet’ I said methinks my luve

o’ my beauty and sleek. Tale, but, ’tis na love loved but you and I. When the Tender shoot of these dreadful words respect, me for the door.

See, that amazing field that at thy birth, and set my Prayer! Although she perhaps he mixt with no knowable envelope, with

seraphims the various Moon there’s a shaft, thou know by now there never was abhord, the spot when we live no more we may her blotte.

Out of your Highness might me move to live with her reckoning yields; a honey tongues perplexed lie, let who will forgive me. Then—i never

starry train: but neither where I my offerings to Love, I am a worthlesse rite, and ached for her solemn light, my orphan sense flies.

And his Vices from love, from their images should love were you enter your sorrow lend me words expressed, but all and elegant scars.

I remember—a moment to move, and life is past, make her to gaze: but I am tought by Algrin, his feet, and into dust ygoe.

The greene bayes to wear; yet no tailor help to make me more, they say I’m an expert. But when I of your dream, from the light, her dewy

eyes than both your patron; over the little, meant to touch but must wed the beachcomber in me because all are now exanimate.

Oh turn thy Father with thy Muses traceless as a tunnel. Then comes too late. For the tomb shall bound: for there the way you felt the

world’s false enough for one kneaded of Evil—Well, could give life and burn, and beauty is her strain; sure, said he, if I could mark her end!

I vnfitte to though for one day in discourse of China who had sent back lacquered place, ceasse now my Muse, now cease thy choysest Art, and if

there triumphs to the cold itself the clear blue sky will give you, and beneath her corse embraue. I walk’d to- day, that will we say for Pardon.

But the fair. A librarian in Calcutta and anxious hands with only Fame for greed o’ the most terrifying Gide, and the

universe rests on the big kids make the boy eventually returns to him a tribute paid: nor this, and want and was Ambition.

Bred in pleasures of some betters? She answers I am waiting to give them split his vocal rage, he caught me feel safe then—i hold

her feel her wallet I remember& i can he not read—no books? All the women if you would call hem often climb. But that wingèd word.

His mouth slips the world is light: for what befell ye: cupid and he stopp’d not her Step! And the true; henceforth the fridge, pheasant, woodcock, of

which shall excellent, yet is his house with a full but Lust will fling it down? And proyne my winding Devon, winding that poor Ambition!

She asked: Spindleshanks? Me,—so sweetely the greenery which he did not endurance, but amazement? Yes, call me no longe: let his

tiny no-sex voice of Morn, her rosy face is youth, some will one day withouten many words to blere myne eyes as their meaning lies.

And thence the iron lung. Where memory sets forth your worthy being so without a decay. Roll from side to take him, and the ghostes

and leave with her painted fantasy of truth we shuddered: and yours from Mortal Paramour, and how she lies, that necessary.

I tried his choirboy voice had none, he rode all along the ocean is, that in the people look the dove, but I will come: of partridge.

Is, it takes to recede like well as heaven and stirring shadow of a babe you there are summoned to cinder, and from Paradise.

White thorn is there hast thow it could I spur, thought shepheard, how broadening time for everything else to give. Have yearned from Tom&Jerry, and lief,

and the winds shook her doubtful in myself at least indecency; but every star, if any spark should yede, they sometimes her corse embraue.

One morn before man was. His brightnesse compare with her pocket in case we die I cry with the spindly thicket into weepe: the white

flowers to the pink, two orange, as I’ll myself in two. Three times thou art why should find in the wakened flies were murmur of thee!

And closely, you could mark her end! Him Loue hath reared vp his fyrye face to renew: for all along the steep slope at Winter welked hath

the midnight make no noise at all, and leany knaues, the heaven only knows, whose lover. And, replies, very cloud … it must wed them teare.

Holy father was thilk same stars, green, above me and fix on it a steady view, the wanted to stir? Colin made it half a foot

into wax to yield us farther this country chere. Or on the world that in the night, the Southerne shepheards daughters with it riseth!

Now she is making? And night the little infant’s bones with her to refer to, with charm the field-flowers do fade and be among the

flowers to the same. Front, an ample fields, and I love and I love Amaryllis, with a haughtier smile and as good night, blind, carried.

I will acquainted shell, and should I not know, that will be gone, can he that they know that you sit fore your sweet as you may err in the

trees, learnt our mind, the gaudie girlonds deck her grace. Wink at our bridal, young pigs, over knees like far-blown rain, the two distant electrons.

I dreamt the receive them more than theyr sheepe: now haue learne of hel, and touch but must wed them close, drove the color of the eye, hauled away

by the pitying teares besprint. Gone. While comment upon your mournful Psyche, with no special legend or God to refer to.

His hand with thy Muses meriment: to sadder plighted ha’: the Shepheards lightly to all that is in the end of a love of

melling. Her vitall through all its range of duties to the pear or plum, and what’s the hills bene now my song, my woe now wasted is.

And now unpossible it is a mass of knotted red with bullet tearing of Time, like Cupid’s bow, from innocence a child is

this? Farewell! My sleep through the fridge, pheasant, undermines you and makes a son and season sadder time drew near, no news but health from me.

Makers face, that this ratty and save him her rising din past whip, past mud, the humble dales of wrath: sike syrly shepheards sayd Algrin

Moses was, with flowers, and he rode and in the shadow, Time; but Lady Psyche will comment upon your cool radiance fell? Before.

Near the soul, whole fief, in right foot into thee. He plonged in pleasure nigh, the holding mynd is starte, and holy secret a live heard

old Algrin he, that the wonder if they had to mumble through it: came out the flat hills no, nor thou seest the Stab of He is no need.

A beauteous heap, a hill of most auaile, as vertues braunch once her lids hung the Field; not, with oath to see except the World, who holds his

rank before you may err in the world I will sup free, but thy selfe on Vertues shore. For those on the trip and now I continue so?

Nor can thy sorrow’s fall. What ho, thou speakes lyke a lewde lorrell, yet nearer wayes I know the Sonne hath reared vp his fyrye face that dreeriment,

he wylfully hath bred hys smart, so now astonied with dim dreams like everywhere. And canst thou leave to read her eye; for she’s mine!

While yet you sit fore you up the long gold the milder planet wherefore, they don’t remember how that I should have spent myself disgrace

me half be done perchance your beams did glide. Nature should be to public justice brought of another Sunne which they bear a’ the late.

Than thou know it by the hill to brydle loue? And to thaw the fragments of most auaile, o careful fingers and you end. The kingdom

but the fuel; and stretches out its mother day I went out on the hill of matter of the wing of your meeting me, when she was in.

If Orpheus voyce had nothing more; but into the ground and sank in up to sigh, when the day faint visions for the Curse of you? Once

more sublimely risen she sits when the Top of Heaven, by magic, ghosts—their hearts, now the answer was Leave me thus, for pity?

Swayne, let none come the dales of Kent: till with me, and giue hem caren for the down, and sleek. Motion shall be uttered every woman country

maid. Of Synah can I fall more like well belowe, ne durst love me because I am shamed that shiver to reuert, o ioyfull verse.

So unlike my own arrogance I claim another before you so lament, down over hips, those that so oft bynempt: then can no

horse will say no. Golden brooch: beneath that. Simple word that he’ll nourish withoute longinge? Bring he went wilful-slow, toward the lull’d winds meet.

There; or to reuert, o ioyfull verse. My love.&When we go with thought I am screaming ordures of misfortune and let thy tender

of the labor of creation, and kept thy holyday above. Take thou him ken yode late obtain, and he feels, again, all thy state!

Midnight, whose love the walls I have to renew: for all along the shovel down until finally, too small dust, here she sits, betweene,

and we must take care of Love, which once he made, as holy hylles to me; then found her speech is homely, too small dust, here she. In it.

All that they know the Soul in Strife! Turtle geometry in Boston, a metal trinket from a stock so hard but that writ it; for

I love you three times I burn it just observed, as well as any other side, a red tinge, with flesh, and be thy lasing powre dicerne.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #115 texts #rispetto sequence

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants.

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free.

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you.

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here.

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him.

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again.

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you.

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to.

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates.

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared.

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms?

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already.

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness.

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best.

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief.

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around.

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you.

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from.

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter.

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards.

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again.

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off.

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for.

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing.

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat.

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better.

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be.

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least.

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere matsukawa x reader #yandere hanamaki x reader #tw blood #tw gore #angst #toxic relationships #i honestly do not know how to tag this #at this point it's practically sfw #if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff

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dem-obscure-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Choosing Destiny

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Summary: Pietro has never believed in fate or soulmates or destiny…well, until he meets you…

Note: I know it was recently confirmed in canon that Pietro and Wanda were 26 during Age of Ultron, but for my own purposes, I’m going to pretend they were only 23. WandaVision spoilers if you squint, but not really.

Warnings: Mentions of death (he doesn’t die tho)

Word Count: 3.5k

Reader is: Female

Pietro Maximoff didn’t believe in prophecy. He didn’t believe in soulmates, either, but that was another matter entirely. His entire life, he’d been making decisions. Important ones. And he wanted to believe that they mattered. That his choices determined his outcome. He didn’t want his hands to be tied when it came to matters like that, to his destiny or whatever.

And yet, at twenty years old, approximately three years before his life would change forever, the fair rolled into town. Wanda wanted to go. She always wanted to go. It helped take her mind off of everything. And besides, with the fair came the psychics that would set up their stands, charging a handful of coins for a reading on your future. Your destiny. Your soulmate.

Wanda was very into it, as he knew she would be, and so, reluctantly, he handed over the money and she sat down across from the psychic, who took Wanda’s hands, shivering slightly before she reached for her tarot cards and shuffled them. “I do see a soulmate in your future.” The psychic told her. “He’s tall. Heroic. I see a long cape billowing out behind him and there’s a…strong association with the color yellow. He’s very intelligent, wise. He’s quiet, but he has a lot to say. He will help you through difficult times.”

Wanda chatted with the psychic for a while longer before they finished her reading, and when she was done, she handed Wanda a small rose quartz stone, which she admired before tucking it into her pocket.

“Let’s go get something to eat.” Pietro nudged her onwards towards the food carts.

“Don’t you want a reading?” Wanda asked him.

He scoffed. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“I beg to differ.” The psychic said softly, beckoning him closer. “Tell you what, this reading is on the house. Take a seat.”

Wanda pushed him closer to the chair and he rolled his eyes, but sat down anyway. His foot bounced up and down. He was antsy, always antsy. Impatient. And on top of it all, a skeptic.

The psychic reached for his hands and he gave them to her. As soon as she made contact with his skin, she gasped.

“Oh you have a soulmate alright. She’s incredibly powerful. I can feel her energy radiating just from your touch alone. You’re going to meet her soon. Not right away, but definitely in the next few years. I sense…some tension. Some resistance, but inevitably, things will work out.” She reached into a pouch hanging from the table and pulled out a butterfly charm. It was small and silver and made of metal and when she pressed it into his palm, it was cold to the touch. “You’ll know it’s her when you see a butterfly.”

Pietro was disbelieving, but he nodded, tucking the charm into his pocket.

“How about that, huh?” Wanda asked as they started walking away. “You have a soulmate after all.”

“We’ll see…” Pietro shook his head. “I still don’t buy it, though, for the record…”

“Sure.” Wanda smirked, unconvinced. She’d seen the look on her brother’s face she knew that look. And she knew that whether her brother liked it or not, he believed the slightest bit that there was someone out there made for him. She liked to believe it, too.

***

There were not many belongings Pietro had inside the walls of the Hydra facility he was transformed in. But one of them was the silver butterfly charm he had gotten at the fair that day. He always kept it with him, and he’d fought tooth and nail to be able to keep it when he’d gotten admitted.

When he was in his cell all alone, he’d take it out and look at it, study the intricate patterns on its wings, and then tuck it back into his pocket, his fingers fiddling with it.

He remembered the day when his transformation happened, although he didn’t like to think about it often. It stirred up weird emotions in the core of his being. Being…altered in a way like that. Changed into something he was never meant to be. Most of the moments from that day, his brain had tucked away, had hidden from him, but when he first stepped into the room with the stone, it had seemed to…come alive.

He watched with wide eyes as it released itself from the staff it had been held inside and floated in front of him. And in the glow of the stone, a figure manifested herself in front of him, a girl who was a bit shorter than him. She had giant butterfly-shaped wings spread out behind her and she landed in front of him, as real as he was. Vivid and beautiful. He stared at her for a long time, waiting for her to speak.

And she did.

“Pietro…” She’d spoken, her voice soft and sweet, but also…worried? He couldn’t tell. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“I…I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He asked, but she didn’t respond. It was like she was separated from him somehow, somewhere different in space and time although she was standing right there in front of him.

She reached forward and rested her hand against his cheek. “I’m here, now. Just breathe…”

And then everything went black.

When he came around, everything started…changing. For a few days, every step he took was at superspeed. He’d run into walls without really meaning to, rush forward feet at a time when he’d only meant to move a little. He was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d always loved food, but now, he felt like he was starving all the time when he was eating more than he ever had. His enhanced body burned through it like it was nothing. His hair started to turn blonde and then white, leaving the top half of his head a silvery bleached color that rivaled the snow. He barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore. Barely recognized this person he’d become.

The choice he’d made, the choice he and Wanda had made together, had sent him on a different path, had altered his destiny. And he wondered if he’d ever pay the price for it.

***

The day came, as he knew it would. His home town in Sokovia was being hoisted into the air, higher and higher every minute. The air was thin and he had trouble catching his breath. He was used to running, now. It was part of him, his speed. It was a gift. A blessing. A “miracle” as the scientists at Hydra had said. He couldn’t help but believe them.

He heard something approaching the border of the city, something big, and when he ran to the edge to see what it was, he was surprised, but pleasantly so, to see a Helicarrier rising, a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on it. He looked around and spotted Captain Rogers standing nearby with the Black Widow, so he ran over.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He asked.

“This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be.” Rogers nodded, looking on proudly.

Pietro considered it for a moment before replying with a smile, “this is not so bad…”

It was then that he spotted her flying across the gap. The girl with the butterfly wings. And he couldn’t stop staring, his blue eyes fixed on her for a long moment. She said something, but he didn’t hear her, so distracted by her presence. He knew it had to be her, the girl from his vision.

“What?” He asked, blinking a few times. She giggled and the other two Avengers standing beside them chuckled knowingly.

“I said, I’m (Y/N).” You offered your hand and Pietro shook it, squeezing it slightly as he did so, and hesitant to let go once he was finished. “Fury reached out to me. Figured you could use all the help you could get.”

“We’d definitely accept an extra set of hands.” Rogers nodded. “What are your powers.”

“Flight, energy manipulation, enhanced strength…” You listed off. “There are kind of a lot. I can do whatever you need me to do. Be wherever you need me to be.”

“Priorities right now are evacuating civilians and killing robots.” Natasha said.

“That, I can do.” You nodded. “And you’re…?”

“Pietro.” He offered, smiling softly as he did, an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his stomach.

“Pietro.” You repeated, trying the name out. Your pronunciation was a little off, but he couldn’t help but grin at the attempt. “Alright. Well, let’s go kill some robots then, Pietro.” You let your wings flutter, and when you did, your feet lifted from the ground.

He smirked, getting a bit competitive as soon as you’d challenged him. “You’re on. Try to keep up.”

As the two of you rushed off into the city, Steve and Natasha watched with knowing looks, taking another little moment.

“Twenty bucks they’re together by Friday.” Nat said. “Maybe sooner.”

Steve shook her hand. “You’re on.”

***

The battle went smoothly until it didn’t, and as soon as Pietro took fire, you felt the hit in the center of your being. It shook you to your core, and once you’d shot the quinjet that had hit him out of the sky with a powerful stream of pink energy, you landed beside him, his body still and his breathing weak, holes mangling his limbs and torso.

“Pietro…” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You summoned your energy to your palms, but it was…different than it usually was. Rather than its typical pink color, the energy you summoned was yellow. It was warm. But you trusted your power and you held the energy over him.

His breaths were shallow, strained. You watched as, very, very slowly, your energy pieced him back together, the holes in his body closing up, repairing as if by magic, as if he’d never been shot in the first place.

He struggled to try to say something, but you just cupped his cheek and shook your head. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“But—”

“I’m here, now. Just breathe…” You told him, still pushing energy into his chest, but more slowly, gradually. You felt his pulse and waited as his heartbeat returned to normal, his breathing forced, but becoming more natural as you knelt beside him. “Take a minute. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

He nodded, struggling to sit up, his arms and legs shaking really badly. At some point, you felt like your power hit a wall. There wasn’t anything more you could do for him. He was healed.

“Do you feel okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He nodded, staring at his hands for a long moment, looking at his fingers and moving them. “I’m…thanks to you, I am.”

“I think we’re gonna have to get out of here pretty soon. Can you stand?”

“I’ll try.” He decided.

You stood up first and offered your hands to him, pulling him upright with unexpected strength.

He’d definitely pulled something in his leg, and that became obvious as soon as he took a few steps.

“Do you want me to try to—" You started to ask, raising your hand, but he grabbed onto it, lowering it.

He shook his head. “You’ve done enough for me today. Thank you.”

You pulled his arm around your shoulders and supported his weight while he limped.

Captain Rogers walked over and looked at the two of you, paying special attention to Pietro.

“You alright, kid?”

“I am now.” He answered, nodding.

“Get back to the Helicarrier. Both of you. This’ll all be over soon.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. The two of you walked most of the way back to the Helicarrier in silence, Pietro sneaking unbelieving looks at you every so often.

Meanwhile, Rogers walked up to Clint. “Did you see what happened?”

Clint nodded. “He almost died. But she…she just…healed him. Like magic…”

Steve considered it for a moment, nodding. He looked back and watched as you helped Pietro onto one of the boats, the two of you sitting together. And he decided in that moment that you might not make a bad addition to the team…

***

As soon as Wanda made it back to the Helicarrier, in the arms of the Vision, no less, she ran towards you and Pietro, disbelief on her face when she saw him. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged around her eyes from crying and she looked paler than he’d ever seen her before.

“Wanda,” He walked towards her, taking a painful step forward.

“You idiot!” She wailed, throwing herself into his arms. “I…I thought you were dead! I…I felt…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He apologized, his voice soft. “She healed me. She…saved my life.”

“Who did?” Wanda asked and Pietro motioned to where you were sitting.

You stood up and prepared to introduce yourself, holding out your hand, but she engulfed you in her arms instead, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She cried into your shoulder. You held her a little tighter in an attempt to comfort her. “I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Don’t worry about it.” You told her quietly. “He’s safe. You both are.”

Wanda nodded and pulled away from you, looking up at her brother with teary eyes. He smiled down at her. And then his eyes settled on you and he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

Pietro Maximoff, at one time in his life, hadn’t believed in fate. But now, without a shadow of a doubt, he did.

***

“You want me to be a what?” You asked. You were sitting in the conference room that the Avengers, including their newest additions, had all crammed into in the remains of the Avengers Tower. They were scheduled to move soon, but before they relocated, Captain Rogers had gotten ahold of you through Nick Fury and called you there to “discuss an arrangement.”

“We want you to be an Avenger.” Clint Barton, the one you’d previously only known as ‘Hawkeye’ explained. “I saw you. You saved the kid’s life. We…we need that kind of power. All the help we can get.”

You looked at Pietro and his eyes were locked on yours, a serious look on his face.

“Look, I’m flattered. I am.” You forced yourself to focus away from the handsome speedster and on Stark instead. “But I’m just…I’m a college kid. I’m graduating in like a month. I have finals and…and I…I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

“You are. Cut out for it, I mean.” Natasha insisted. “We’re not going to force you, but…you’d be a great addition to the team.”

“Can I think about it?” You asked. “I just need to get through college. Get my degree, and then…then I can…maybe look into this hero stuff.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll be here if and when you come around.” Captain Rogers said.

“Cool.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

You left the conference room and you thought you were alone, but as soon as you walked through them, someone else did too.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Your ears picked up the all-too familiar accent of one Mr. Pietro Maximoff.

You looked up at him and you hated it, but your heart raced just looking at him, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You couldn’t deny he was handsome. Incredibly so, in fact, but you couldn’t just give up four years of work for a man at the drop of a hat.

“Why do you want me here so bad?” You countered, raising an eyebrow.

He took a few steps closer to you, framing your cheek with his large, warm hand. “Do you believe in fate?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Kind of. Why?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t until I met you.” Pietro said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver butterfly charm, hanging from a thin silver chain. “A long time ago, a psychic told me I would know my soulmate when I saw a butterfly. And…the moment I saw your wings, I knew…”

He was quiet, shaking his head as he reached for your hand, setting the necklace in your palm. “You saved my life. The least I can do is returning the favor at some point.”

“Okay.” You said, closing your hand around the charm. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

***

You went back to school. It was hard, but you focused on your studies and before you knew it, finals week rolled around. Your wings, for the most part, weren’t active. They only came out when you needed them, and therefore, you were able to blend in pretty seamlessly. No one looked at you differently, although, watching news coverage from the Battle of Sokovia, you’d hear your peers whisper rumors about the mysterious Butterfly Girl who had appeared and disappeared right after.

Tony Stark had been approached for a statement on who she was and where she’d come from and if she was a new member of the team, but he hadn’t commented, which you were grateful for.

Aside from that, everything was…well, as normal as it can be when you’re a superhuman, you supposed.

Your brain fried, your eyes burning, you looked up from your textbook only to spot Pietro standing in the doorway of the building. You stared at him for a long time, unsure if he was a hallucination or your eyes playing tricks on you after so many hours staring at your textbooks.

He jogged over as soon as he spotted you, a mischievous look on his face. It was weird, seeing him force himself to move at a normal pace. At a speed which had once been normal to him, but was now much, much slower than he was capable of moving.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, taking your headphones off and setting them on the table, looking up at him.

“I knew you must be getting close to the end of your semester. I…well, I wanted to know if you had made your decision yet. I’m…impatient.” He admitted, causing you to giggle softly. “And I figured…maybe buying you a coffee could help you make your decision a little faster?”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt.” You laughed.

“Alright, perfect.” He grinned. “What do you want? I’ll go get it right now.”

You told him your usual order and he walked to the coffee shop tucked into the on-campus library, retrieving two drinks and bringing them back a few minutes later. You cleared out some of your stuff so he could sit across from you, and so, when you motioned him to the chair, he did.

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology.” You replied, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “God, what time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Great.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m not nearly done studying.” You raised your drink to your lips. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“Of course.” He grinned, resting one hand against his fist and reaching for your hand with the other, which you gave to him, allowing him to fiddle with your smaller fingers. He was a fiddler, you’d noticed. Always had to be moving, even if it was only a little bit. “So…?”

“So what?” You asked, amused at his antics.

“Are you going to come to the compound when you’re done?”

You were quiet for a long time, before you nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I…I think I am.”

Immediately, a smile overtook his handsome features and he gave your hand an excited squeeze. He leaned over the table and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaving you stunned for a few seconds afterwards, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized immediately. “I don’t know why I—”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his again, in a kiss you’d been wanting to give him for over a month. He kissed back passionately, his lips soft and desperate, his scruff tickling you gently.

As soon as you pulled apart, he switched sides of the table, sitting next to you and cupping his hands around your cheeks. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then another quick one to your lips, causing your heart to race and the butterflies in your stomach to dance around. And in that moment, you knew that whatever you believed about soulmates and fate and destiny…it all went out the window.

You knew whatever you did from here on out, whatever choices you made or paths you took, it would always lead you straight to Pietro Maximoff. And you couldn’t have been happier about that…

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro #pietro x reader #pietro imagine #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagines #avengers #avengers imagine

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

Text

Coming full circle

Here’s a little blurb about the Grammy’s, because some things just simply can’t be overlooked. I’ve also wanted to try and write in second person for a while and I thought this was the perfect occasion. Tell me what you think, I’m interested in knowing what you prefer! Happy reading xx (gif source)

The anticipation has become unbearable at this point. Sitting on the couch of the hotel suite you’ve checked in the day before, you feel more trapped here than simply waiting for your boyfriend to come back - or should you say Grammy winner boyfriend now? Watching the whole show on a flat screen rather than with your own heart-shaped eyes has been a pain to begin with, but now that there is a tiny gold trophy topping off the night with a pinch of two gifted fingers, it is downright torture.

Your legs keep fidgeting in restless expectation as you know Harry’s return is now eminent. The suspense of the show had you going insane for hours and now that it’s all over and done with, you can’t wait to shower him with love and sweet devotion. All the passion, all the self-imposed high standards, all the hard work, have finally paid off in the eyes of the academy, and though he’s always had the encouragement of his fans, it feels good to be recognized within the industry as well. To get a hat tip from pears and musicians he looks up to. To be able to bring the six pounds momento back to you since an infinitesimal but still real part of it was your doing. Also, he can’t wait to share it all with you.

At last, after the umpteenth sigh whizzing from your mouth, you finally hear it. Footstep coming to a halt behind the door, the sound of someone rummaging through their pockets for a keycard, a few lighthearted curses when said key plays hard to get, and finally several seconds later, the soft click of the lock signaling authorized entrance.

As soon as the door starts moving on its hinges, you leap to your feet to stand a couple meters from the entrance, arms crossed behind your back. And there he is.

The charismatic superstar you’ve just worshipped on TV all night is now standing in front of you in all his charming dimpled glory, orange and yellow plaid Gucci suit still on, swathed in feathery boas. Because, yes, he’s brought back all three of them; green, purple and black fluff all tangling around his upper limbs as he attempts to remove his heeled boots without tripping. If his clumsier than usual demeanor didn’t give away his slightly inebriated state, then the rosy tint coloring his cheeks was a big telltale sign of the few celebratory drinks he’d indulged throughout the night.

Harry stops dead in his tracks once his eyes fall on your frame. A shy grin appears on his flushed face, before your own lips part to mirror his glee. And for a hot minutes, it’s just that. You and him, facing each other across the hallway like in a makeshift Western dual, except you’re bearing no guns to fire at each other. Your only weapons are your beaming smiles and unconditional support.

Then there is no greater feeling than the fireworks exploding in your chest when you finally cave and run to him. He catches you with two sturdy arms as your wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The deep belly laugh vibrating in his chest against yours is music to your ears and you can’t help but whisper "I am so fuckin’ proud o’ you," in the shell of his, before squeezing him even tighter against you. He buries his joy in your neck in response, knowing if he tried to kiss you right now, it’d be more of a smash of lips and clash of teeth than anything.

Once your elation simmers down just enough to relax your distended smiles though, your lips meet in a passionate embrace, tongues softly licking at the sweetest of each others’ mouth; yours from the strawberries you’ve had for dessert and his from the champagne that had been served all night at the Grammy’s.

As your hands reach up to cup his jaw, his come off your thighs to unwrap one of the boas from his neck and swaddle it around you. You squeal and giggle in delight at the furry material tickling the nape of your neck and Harry’s eyes sparkle in satisfaction, "knew you’d wanna have one, now we match."

Your heart is positively soaring, you just extend your new accessory around his neck so that you’re both protected by the green boa’s higher guardian spirit, and then you lean in for another kiss. For a while the two of you are caught up in your bubble, reveling in this night of magic and well-deserved acclaims, pride seeping through your pore to sneak under his skin much like his love for you had at the beginning of your relationship.

"I love you," the three words leave your lips as you lean your forehead against his and Harry promptly echoes the sentiment while walking you to the king size cloud-looking bed awaiting you both. He gently lowers you down upon the silk sheets, you hair spreading across the pillow cases with a look of sheer bliss etched upon your delicate features. If he weren’t so in awe of you and in awe of tonight, his signature smirk would probably taunt you with the fact that it won’t take much to unravel you tonight.

Instead he just hovers for another languid kiss, all his senses heightened by the evening’s ethereality. The sound of his name falling from the Troubadour’s manager is still reeling in his mind alongside the buzz that has been coursing through his veins ever since he took those bambi steps all the way to the stage to receive the long-awaited award for the fruit of his labour. Now that he’s come home in your arms to share every bit of that success, everything feels magnified.

He swears he’s never love you more than tonight when he’s feeling at the top and you’re here to hold his hand.

It’s a high like no other and one fix is just not cutting it. This requires a myriad of caresses and affections trailed along smooth skin. This was born out of support and loving inspiration that need to be returned to their muse in kisses that match the heat of the passion that instigated all this dream. This needs to be spelt out in love language across your body’s every nerve-endings - twice - and shouted from each one of LA’s skyscraper’s rooftop.

So Harry gets to work, diligently covering every inch of your skin with his appreciation and traipsing his reverence all the way down to the waistband of your panties with your grip in his hair accompanies his descent towards your sensitivity. "Gonna put those Grammy winning lips on me?" the smug look on your face is immediately whipped out by a moan as he noses at your clit.

"Seems only fair," he sucks at your mound through the cotton, "won the damn thing writing about eating your pussy. Reckon I didn’t properly thank you in my acceptance speech." Slowly he drags the flimsy lace down your legs before tasting your arousal with a long fat sweep of his tongue. "M’just comin’ full circle is all." You can feel his amusement against your core as you let out a giggle of your own at his silliness.

Your playful banter is quickly replaced by a symphony of moans and gasps that leave the both of you absolutely spent by the time the night reaches its real peak. After all, your acknowledgment means so much more to him than any award he could possibly receive/ Especially if it comes as sweet as your gratitude always does.

➪ Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles grammy #harry styles smut #just a teeny bit in passing lol #harry styles fluff #harry blurb

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drarrymybeloved · 3 years ago

Text

Love in a Five Part Act

my third entry for the summer writin challenge! prompt: crashing a party, trope: fake dating & craft: reverse chronology. many thanks to @the-starryknight for holding my hand through this one <3

Harry is pacing. He’s walking in tight circles in the entryway, drawing curious glances from everyone passing through. He tugs at the collar of his robes, the same ones he bought with Draco. No cravat this time, though.

Draco likes to show up to these things twenty five minutes after the indicated time – “You mustn’t seem too eager nor must you be tardy” – so Harry’s been pacing for the last twenty minutes.

His stomach is a shivering ball of nerves and there’s the slightest of tremors in his hands. He could have just written a letter, or shown up at Draco’s house, but Draco likes grand gestures and Harry’s the all-in sort of guy, so here he is. Pacing.

The main doors open just then. Harry looks up, gut tightening. Dressed in peacock blue with hints of dark green, Draco looks gorgeous. Harry’s nerves calm for a second as he takes in the familiar sight – despite everything, Draco feels like home. And then Draco’s eyes find his and the nerves are back tenfold.

Draco’s mouth drops open a bit and his brow furrows before he quickly schools his features into a polite mask. He approaches Harry and asks without preamble, “What are you doing here?”

“Attending the ball?” Harry attempts feebly. He hadn’t bothered to think of exactly what he would say to Draco. Not one of his finest ideas, in retrospect.

Draco arches one unimpressed eyebrow. “Obviously, Potter. I meant why are you here?”

“Draco,” Harry whispers, giving up on a heartfelt speech and letting the one word encompass everything he’s feeling.

Draco’s eyes widen, surprise making his mask drop. He takes an uneven breath in. “We agreed, remember? We don’t need this,” he pauses and looks around before continuing in a lower tone. “This arrangement anymore. You got what you needed and so have I.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. “I got what I needed. But what about what I want?”

A moment passes. The silence between them stretches and swells, the din of the nearby party falling away.

“And what do you want?” Draco asks finally, his voice nothing more than a whisper. His hands are restless, the tips of his fingers coming together in patterns only he’s privy to. Harry remembers Draco doing this before, when Skeeter wrote a vicious article on how “Malfoy’s Death Eater nature” was going to “corrupt our Saviour.” He remembers wanting to catch those fluttering hands in his own, to tell Draco no one listens to Skeeter anymore, tell him that he likes having Draco around and to hell with Skeeter and her ilk.

Harry allows himself to reach out this time and gently laces his hands through Draco’s.

“This,” he says, heart pounding but voice sure. He squeezes Draco’s hands once. “For real this time.”

Slowly, a smile blooms over Draco’s face, his body relaxing. “I’ve been told I’m high maintenance,” he says slightly breathlessly.

Harry laughs, relief flooding through him. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure.”

“No, you did rather well,” Draco murmurs, genuine under the banter.

Warm with fondness, Harry presses a kiss to his cheek before gesturing to the ballroom. “Shall we?” he asks, offering his arm. Draco smiles and tucks his hand securely in the crook of Harry’s elbow.

They are yet again subjected to stares that have not gotten any subtler and conversations that keep prodding at personal boundaries. But none of that matters because this time when Draco calls Harry “darling” he’s not holding anything back, and when Harry calls him “love” it’s because he wants to and not because he’s fulfilling a role.

-----

Harry steps through Draco’s Floo into his living room, letting the bright space settle the apprehension he’s been unable to shake off ever since he got Draco’s letter. He loves this room, with its neutral toned furniture interrupted with colorful cushions and throws. It suits Draco. The kitchen was more of a surprise. When he had first come here, about a week into their arrangement, Harry had been expecting modern fittings and a minimalist layout. Instead, Draco’s kitchen has exposed brick walls and buttery yellow cabinets. A honey oak table stretches through the length of the space and potted plants sit in the windowsills. Now that he knows Draco’s penchant for baking and how he likes to unwind by immersing himself in time-consuming recipes, Harry thinks nothing could suit Draco more.

“Malfoy?” Harry calls out. He’s Draco now, really, but only in the privacy of Harry’s head.

“Kitchen,” comes the answer.

“Hey,” Harry says, smiling a little at the sight of Draco in a cozy jumper bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. “Is this about the gala day after tomorrow? You think we should attend it?”

An uncertain look crosses Draco’s face before he takes a deep breath. Harry feels his smile slipping.

“Yes, I think it would be a good opportunity to meet a few people I’ve been hoping to talk with,” Draco hedges, and Harry can hear the “but” coming from a mile away. Sure enough, Draco continues. “But, I think we’ve done enough damage control, both in terms of everyone’s opinion of me and your situation with the press. I can’t keep pretending–”

He cuts himself off and presses his lips together, hands clutching the counter behind him. He’d look almost relaxed if it weren’t for the tension evident in his shoulders, his pronounced knuckles. Harry remembers kissing those knuckles, tipsy on champagne, and spinning Draco to some fast number.

“Right,” Harry says hoarsely, unable to formulate a response over the echo of “I can’t keep pretending” in his head, a mocking symphony.

He can’t think beyond the roiling in his gut and the ice pooling at the base of his spine. This was coming, it had always been coming, so why is he so surprised?

“So, that’s it then?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” Draco says stiffly. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Harry nods woodenly. Manages a “You too,” before he turns and leaves.

-----

Harry hears the Floo flare from downstairs. A second later, Malfoy calls out, “Potter?”

“Yeah, up here, second floor,” Harry answers from his room, wrestling with the complicated tie – “It’a cravat, Potter, honestly” – Malfoy had him buy for the Ministry event they’re attending tonight, along with a whole new set of dress robes.

He hears an annoyed huff from near the doorway before Malfoy comes to stand behind him.

He meets Harry’s eyes through the mirror. “What on earth are you doing with that? Here, let me.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but starts to turn around. Malfoy stops him, holding onto his shoulders to make him face the mirror again.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, steadfastly ignoring the quickening of his heartbeat at the brief contact.

Malfoy shrugs. “It’s easier this way,” he says, reaching around Harry’s chest to tie the cravat, the movement bringing him tantalisingly close to Harry.

Harry stays perfectly still, painfully aware of Malfoy’s proximity. He can feel Malfoy’s body heat, can smell his sweet vanilla scent – one tiny step backwards, and his body would be flush against Malfoy’s.

Harry closes his eyes briefly, swallowing forcefully. He opens his eyes and fixes them firmly on Malfoy’s hands in the mirror, competently manipulating the cravat with slender fingers.

Oh Merlin.

“There we go,” Malfoy tucks the cravat into Harry’s robes and smoothes his hands down Harry’s chest in a perfunctory fashion, making gooseflesh erupt all over Harry’s arms.

“Thanks,” Harry all but gasps, stepping quickly away from Malfoy, hoping he can’t see the furious blush on his cheeks. “Let’s get going then.”

It’s been a while since he’s had any good reason to attend a Ministry function, but Harry’s been to enough of them to detest the entire enterprise. He’d much rather make his donations from the safety and privacy of his own home, thank you very much. So it’s with no small amount of trepidation that Harry enters the ballroom with Malfoy on his arm.

People immediately take notice, the whispers spreading like wildfire. Harry can already feel a headache building.

“We knew they would stare – let them. I’ll do the talking, you try to look like you’re not being tortured,” Malfoy murmurs at his side, smiling charmingly at the guests they pass.

Despite himself, Harry snorts. “Who says I’m not?” he whispers back, feeling a pleasant jolt at the genuine grin Malfoy shoots him before he turns the charm back on.

As the night progresses, Harry has to admit, he’s not being tortured. It’s definitely not his idea of a fun time, but with Malfoy there, it’s at least tolerable. Each time the conversation starts heading towards Harry’s personal life, Malfoy subtly changes the topic with a well-placed enquiry.

“Would you get a glass of champagne for me, darling?” Malfoy asks, turning towards him a little, a private smile on his face. Harry’s breath hitches. The endearment is a new addition to their arrangement. But of course, it would only be natural for Malfoy to use one, especially where others could hear them.

“Sure, love,” Harry answers, not deciding to use an endearment of his own until he had already said it. Along with Malfoy’s champagne, he returns with a glass of Firewhiskey for himself, letting the spicy warmth settle his nerves.

They don’t stay for too long – Harry had been adamant on no more than an hour and a half and was surprised when Malfoy had agreed without any complaints.

“That wasn’t so bad actually,” Harry tells Malfoy as they walk towards a secluded part of the lawns to Apparate home. Their respective homes, obviously.

“Yes, it went quite well, I think,” Malfoy responds with a bright smile. “I was a little worried people might not buy us,” he gestures between them, “together, but they lapped it right up.”

Something cold and heavy sinks into Harry’s stomach, replacing the tentative warmth that was glowing through him not a minute ago. Of course. In between all the touching and the endearments and Malfoy’s surprisingly considerate nature, Harry had somehow managed to forget that this was all a show.

“Right,” Harry says, throat tight. “I think I’ll head home now, tiring night and all that.” He gives Malfoy the best approximation of a smile he can manage and Apparates away.

-----

They step out of the restaurant together, holding hands. The number of reporters camped outside had been steadily rising as Harry and Malfoy fed each other bites of food and exchanged fond looks — all carefully planned and executed of course.

The questions come hurtling at them from all sides, accompanied by bursts of camera flashes. Most of them are directed towards Harry.

"Mr. Potter, are you courting Draco Malfoy?"

"Mr. Potter, sir, did Ginevra Weasley leave you because you're interested in men?"

"Smile for the camera sir!"

“Was your relationship with Ms. Weasley a sham?”

Too much, it’s all far too much. Harry has never been good with dealing with the press, and he’s out of practice now. The flashes blind him and the questions echo oddly in his head. His chest burns with every sip of air he struggles to take.

He feels an arm snake around his waist, gripping firmly for a moment, before withdrawing to his upper back and rubbing faint circles between his shoulder blades. Malfoy steps forward, smoothly answering questions, appearing totally unruffled, while his hand continues to move over Harry's back. Harry isn't listening to a word of what Malfoy is saying. Instead, he focuses on Malfoy's hand on his back, letting the point of contact ground him, the repetitive movement soothing.

When they land on Harry's doorstep, Malfoy shoots him a curious look. His hand still rests on Harry's back — once he had answered all the questions he intended to, he'd neatly stepped back from the gaggle of reporters and Apparated them to Grimmauld right then and there.

Harry makes the mistake of looking at Malfoy. Caught up in his intense gaze and feeling a little discombobulated from the restaurant, Harry freezes. His mind is still stuck on the comfort of Malfoy’s hand on his back, of his solid grip on his waist, and his feelings are a tangled mess. Some of it must be showing on Harry’s face, because Malfoy’s expression changes and he turns more fully to Harry, the beginnings of a sentence on his lips.

Hot panic bursts in Harry’s chest. Hastily stepping away from Malfoy, he stumbles over his words. “I should, um– thanks for today, er, send me an Owl for next time,” he says, backing away towards his front door. He shuts the door before Malfoy has a chance to say anything, leaning against it for support.

-----

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, Potter,” Malfoy insists.

Harry scoffs, turning back to stare at his tumbler of whiskey — the muggle variety. He rarely visits wizarding pubs now, not unless he wants to make the front page of the Prophet and every other godforsaken wizarding tabloid.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Malfoy rolling his eyes.

“I know strategy hasn’t always been your strong suit, Potter, but do think for a minute. Ever since your break up with Ginevra Weasley, the media attention you receive has increased tenfold. You can’t even have a drink in peace, can you?”

Harry turns back to face Malfoy, raising a pointed brow. Disappointingly, Malfoy doesn’t take the bait.

“You want the media to stop hounding you about your love life and I want to not be undesirable number one,” he continues. “It’s a simple equation, Potter, put the two together and the solution is obvious.”

“And yet, you’re the only one who’s arrived at it,” Harry says flatly, ignoring the whisper of it could work, actually floating at the back of his head.

“Please, Potter, we both know who the smart one is in this relationship and it certainly isn’t you,” Draco says, smirking.

“I never actually agreed to this fake-dating nonsense, Malfoy.”

“Potter,” Malfoy deadpans. “It’s been, what, five months now since your relationship ended? The press isn’t going to stop any time soon. Not unless you do something about it.”

“Thrilling that you’ve been keeping count,” Harry mumbles into his glass before taking a healthy swig. Malfoy’s right and Harry knows it. He’s tried everything — polite non-answers, straightforward “no comments”, pointed silence, and even snarled insults to leave him the fuck alone. None of it worked. This might just be his only option. No, it is his only option.

Harry sighs heavily and turns to Malfoy. “You’re going to be really high-maintenance, aren’t you?”

Malfoy smiles, languid and satisfied. “You know it, darling.”

#drarry #drarry fic #2021 summer writin #fake dating #fluff and angst #getting together #drarry fic rec

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nanstgeorge · 4 years ago

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elain being a smart, kind, and useful bitch: the series

setting up the plan to meet graysen:

Then Elain said quietly, “We could move them to Graysen’s estate.”

“If—if you and … they”—a glance at Rhys, my friends—“ come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.”

“You’re Fae, too,” Nesta reminded her. “Glamour me,” Elain said—to Rhys. “Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate.”

“Are you sure?” I demanded at the same time Nesta said, “I can go—let me talk to him.” Elain only rose to her feet. “He doesn’t know you,” she said to me. Then she faced Nesta with a frank, bemused look. “And he hates you.”

literally being gagged and still helping out

My sisters were shrieking over their gags. But Elain’s cry—a warning. A warning to—To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last. I hurled a knife at him—as hard as I could. He had to dive to miss it.

convincing nesta to help out the night court while coming up with a plan on the spot (at the same time)

“Nesta,” Elain said again, twisting her hands. “If … if we do not help Feyre, there won’t be a wedding. Even Lord Nolan’s battlements and all his men, couldn’t save me from … from them.”

“We keep it secret—we send the servants away. With the spring approaching, they’ll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she’ll send word ahead, and we’ll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays. Father won’t be back until the summer, anyway. No one will know.”

clearing out the house for the night court

“Today,” I pushed. “We don’t have any time to lose. Order them to leave now.” “I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

It took hours for Elain to work her charm on the staff to swiftly pack their bags and leave, each with a purse of money to hasten the process.

“You’d think they’d been told plague had befallen the house.” I pulled the door open wide enough to let them in, then quickly shut it against the bitter cold. “My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

tells feyre that nesta went to see her because she knows that nesta wouldn’t

Elain sighed. “Maybe you could talk to her.” I contemplated telling Elain that Nesta and I hadn’t had a civil conversation in years, but then Elain added, “She went to see you, you know.”

“Elain said—said you went to visit me, though. That you tried.”

words of wisdom baby

“I’m sorry.” Nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion. “Everyone keeps saying that.” Her thumb brushed the ring on her finger. “But it doesn’t fix anything, does it?”

“This could end very badly, Elain.” She brushed her thumb over the iron-and-diamond engagement ring. “It’s already ended badly. Now it’s just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences.” “Wisely said,” Mor offered, smiling softly at Elain.

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“We have everything we need,” I admitted to Elain. “Buying presents feels excessive.” “It’s their tradition, though,” Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. “One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that’s the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for its very existence, for the peace this city now has.”

observational

Elain now watched Lucien warily. Blinking every now and then. She revealed no hint of whatever she might be seeing—sensing. None.

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash....Dismissing him entirely. Cassian’s face went almost feral. Elain’s voice wobbled as she noted the same thing and quickly said to him, “It … it is very hard, you understand, to … accept it.”

when it comes to nesta

She stormed off, Elain darting after her, cooing her sympathy.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Until Nesta said too softly, “This is the talk of madwomen. Of arrogant, stupid fools.” Elain grabbed for Nesta’s hand to silence her.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

when it comes to feyre and their childhood

“I know it’s not easy for you,” Elain observed as we drifted through a weaver’s shop, admiring the fine tapestries, rugs, and blankets she’d crafted into images of various Night Court scenes....I turned from a wall covering depicting that very image. “What’s not easy?”...Elain’s brown eyes roved over the Night Court insignia. “Buying things without a dire need to do so.”

“Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.”

“Did you know,” I said over the sound of my sawing, “that one summer, when I was seventeen, Elain bought me some paint? We’d had just enough to spend on extra things, and she bought me and Nesta presents. She didn’t have enough for a full set, but bought me red and blue and yellow. I used them to the last drop, stretching them as much as I could, and painted little decorations in our cottage.”

I had not painted in years at that point, had not dared spend the money on myself … But Elain had.

helping out the team physically

Azriel’s roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings—The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home. With a yelp of pain, it released its claws—and plunged into the ravine.

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

“I don’t know how to look,” Elain mumbled. “You can try.” I should have asked Amren to train her, too. But Elain studied me, the map, then nodded.

#sorry antis but my sister has never been useless! always a team player #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

Text

To be Evil IV: Loyalty

Summary: Thanos now has two more Infinity Stone, but refuses to send you on missions to get the other stones. His reluctance is probably a good thing. Especially when you learn what you really are.

Warnings: I don’t know if this makes sense anymore but oh well, angst, strong language, Infinity War (rewritten), I feel like I’m just rambling at this point

Word Count: 1,991

To be Evil Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

You traveled across the universe with your new team in search of the other Infinity Stones, and yet, you have done nothing but wait for orders from Thanos. He had gone to Knowhere to find the Reality Stone, brought back one of his ‘daughters’ who you’ve heard be called Gamora, and then took her to Vomir to retrieve the Soul Stone. He came back from that mission alone and deep down, you knew why.

With two Stones left, both of them on Earth, the ship makes its way back to your home planet.

Each time a stone is placed in the gauntlet, it’s as if a part of you fixes in place and your powers buzz inside you. Your dreams change, but you can never remember what they are when you wake. All you know is that it is about the Stones. The Time Stone and the Mind Stone are all that remain and you’re eager to get out of this spaceship and retrieve the Stones.

Though, there has been some advantage of having nothing to do while Thanos hunts for the Stones. You’ve had time to focus on your powers, work on them without having to focus on control. In that time, you’ve learned to do things you’ve never done before, things that will allow you to fight more than one person all while standing in one place. And it’s no longer using curses. Not really.

Now, with Earth in sight, you wait for your orders from Thanos, so sure that he will give you an important task, especially after you have proven yourself by retrieving the Tesseract and the Space Stone. But he left you out of obtaining either the Time Stone or the Mind Stone. Those tasks were given to Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, Corvus Glaive, and Proxima Midnight,

“There is a reason you are leaving me out of retrieving the Stones, isn’t there?” you question Thanos after the meeting, walking up to him as the others walk away to prepare themselves.

Thanos doesn’t look at you. All he does is carry on to stare out the window at the nearing planet and it slightly irritates you. “You have done enough-”

“I want to do more,” you cut him off, stopping just behind him as you clench your hands into fists. “I’m sick of sitting around, doing nothing. Let me go after the Mind Stone.”

“No,” Thanos quickly objects, turning around to face you as you shift on your feet at the firm tone in his voice. Almost as if he’s hesitant about you going after the Mind Stone. You could read his mind to find out why, but you won’t because you know he’s too powerful with four stones in his possession for it to go unnoticed. It wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have not given you a mission so that your loyalty can be tested,” he explains, but you don’t believe it.

You shake your head, glance over his shoulder at Earth and fold your arms over your chest. “You think I’m going to go back to that team after everything they’ve done to me?” you question, chuckling as you look at him with a sarcastic smile on your face. “Do not treat me as they did,” you warn, your eyes taking on the yellow glow that you’ve grown used to. And with your powers becoming stronger, the glow is almost permanent.

Thanos knows your connection to one of the Infinity Stones. He knows the source of your powers comes from the Mind Stone, and he knows he doesn’t want to be in your way when you use your growing powers.

He sighs, steps towards you and nods his head. “Go after the Time Stone. But do not engage an attack unless needed,” he orders.

And though it is a mission, you scoff and roll your eyes. It’s a babysitting job. Make sure Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian do their jobs and not interfere. “Very well,” you mutter, thinking at least it’s a reason to get off the spaceship and get some fresh air.

Joining the two of your companions on the Q-ship, you make your way to what you know is New York. Maw gives a basic plan of attack, but you know that you aren’t to do anything unless something should go wrong. And with Maw and Obsidian working together, the chances of things going wrong are very slim.

You end up sitting on the roof of a building, looking down and watching everything from a distance. Seeing the Time Lord, Doctor Strange, alongside Tony and Bruce, you perk up in interest and take a step slightly closer. You can feel the presence of the Time Stone and you have a deep desire to be united with it.

Watching the fight beneath you, how Cull Obsidian was blasted away with ease by Tony, Bruce going with in Hulk form to fight the colossal member of the Black Order and Ebony Maw is defeated and sent away from the scene through a portal created by Strange, you smile at the realization that your time has come. Thons said not to interfere unless needed. Well, now it is needed.

Using your powers to alleviate yourself off the roof of the building and to land gently on the ground in front of Strange. It would be best if Tony remains out of this so you can take the Time Stone. You know Strange will put up a fight, so you’ll need all the strength you can muster up.

“I’m sure you know what I want,” you say, stepping forward as your eyes glance down to the Eye of Agamotto hanging around Strange’s chest that holds the Time Stone. “And if I must, I will fight you for it,” you add, holding your hands out and lifting pieces of rubble from the previous fight, a new trick you had learned.

“You must be (Y/n),” Strange speaks, and you expect him to prepare himself for a fight, but he doesn’t. Still, you keep the rubble floating behind you just in case. “Tony has spoken about you, about your powers.”

You scoff, roll your eyes at him and take a step forward. “About how dangerous I am? Well, I’ve learned so much now that I don’t have him telling me to hold back,” you mention, smiling proudly at yourself as you take another step forward. “I’d be happy to show you,” you chuckle before sending everything you have levitating behind you towards him.

Strange uses his magic against your move, making the rubble turn to dust and fall at his feet. “I don’t want to fight you, Guardian,” he says, making you freeze and frown at him in confusion. He sees this, tilts his head and steps closer as you slowly lower your hands to your sides, their glow dying down. “I know you come from the Mind Stone. You know that too. But it seems you do not know what your purpose is,” he mentions, walking closer to you as you stare at him. “You don’t know whose side you’re supposed to be on-”

“I know whose side I’m on,” you snap, throwing a large piece of debris at him with a wave of your hand. He counters your attack, destroys the block you sent to him into pieces as you glare at him “And it sure as hell isn’t yours,” you sneer, stepping forward again as you conjure up a barrier around him, as you did with Wanda.

And yet, Strange doesn’t fight back. He gives in to your hold on him, and it’s probably the thing preventing you from knocking him out and taking the Time Stone from him. “You haven’t been collecting the Stone for Thanos. Deep down, you’ve been collecting them for yourself because you were chosen and created by them to protect them from those that would use them for good or bad,” Strange mentions, making your face fall and freeze in your tracks.

That’s exactly what that feeling is. You couldn’t explain it, until you heard someone else say it. Lowering your hands and breaking the barrier around him. Still, you shake your head at him as he walks towards you. “I have seen because this has shown me,” he explains, moving his hands to open the charm protecting the Stone.

The Time Stone floats towards you like it’s drawn to you. And you reach out for it, glancing up to Strange to make sure it’s alright. He nods his head.

As you close your hand around the green stone, it’s like you’re taken back to the time just before you burst into life from the Mind Stone. You remember the threat the Stone felt as HYDRA started their experiments, you remember getting an order to protect it and to protect the other Stones if things come to that.

Glancing down to your hand as you open it, you stare at the Stone and suddenly know what you have to do.

After your curse triggered Bucky’s Winter Soldier programming, he went to Wakanda to make sure that the work Shuri did on his mind wasn’t reversed. He went with Steve, Wanda, and Vision because knowing now that Thanos is looking for the Infinity Stones and the Mind Stone hasn’t been taken yet, they have a plan to destroy the Stone without killing Vision to stop Thanos from getting what he wants. It was Loki’s plan.

Thankfully, Bucky’s mind is all good. There’s no chance anyone can trigger him with those special words. But all he can think about is why you did what you did. He thought he knew you well enough not to do something like that to him. And though he knows you didn’t mean to do it, that your curse was meant for Steve, it still hurt him.

“We all know that Thanos is gonna come for the Mind Stone and he’s probably gonna have (Y/n) at his side,” Steve says, looking between each member of the team, including T’Challa and Vision and they plan for an attack from Thanos. “She’s more powerful now and will probably be the one to take the Mind Stone-”

“If that happens, she’ll be unstoppable,” Bucky cuts him off, making everyone look at him. Bucky takes a deep breath, runs his tongue over his lips and drops his gaze to his hands. “The Mind Stone is the source of her powers. She’s basically the Stone in human form,” he explains, closing his eyes as he recalls the memory.

He was there when you showed up, assigned to protect one of the scientists. He remembers the flash, your figure appearing out of nowhere before you raised your hands to destroy the room. The only ones that got out were you, Bucky, and his assigned scientist. Then you disappeared, and Bucky found out years later when he met you again that you were found by Tony after that, but you forgot everything that happened.

“If she gets in touch with the Mind Stone, the chances that she could tap into the power of the other Stone,” Vision mentions, making Bucky nod his head when he looks at him. “Then there’s no knowing what she’ll do. Whether she’ll fight Thanos or fight with him.”

“What you’re saying is that she could side with us, but if she doesn’t, we’re screwed,” Natasha says, simplifying it and making Vision nod in confirmation. “What would make her side with us?” she asks, still look at Vision because he’ll be the one to know with the Mind Stone in his head.

Vision glances at Wanda for a second before he looks over to Bucky. The Winter Soldier knows what that looks means. The only way they can get you to side with them would either be some major sucking up, or if someone really close to you appeals to you.

Someone who knows how to calm you down.

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polpoka · 3 years ago

Text

Neighbor Au

Characters- Kim Rok Soo, Alberu Crossman, Lee Soo Hyuk, Choi Jung Soo

Ratings- K+

Shippings- Kimrokberu

Type- (Fluff)

Part 4

The symbol did indeed look like a small sun encompassed in a gigantic moon which made the sun pale in comparison, yet the pale yellow shade stood out more than that of the moon which made Kim Rok Soo’s eyes first fall on the sun. The moon on the other hand was as white as milk, with grey spots that resembled craters, or perhaps that’s what the splotches of orange juice gave an illusion of. The starry midnight sky that adorned the outer gap of the sun-filled moon occupied less space and created a small background that faded out, causing the entire mark to look like a cartoonish sketch of an eclipse. It had its own charm of homeliness and peace, yet it felt unnecessarily regal. It was as if his soulmate was once a king... Wait... didn't his neighbour—now soulmate, say that he had his name plastered on several...broadcasts.

Kim Rok Soo took a moment to let the realization sink in, the same way the orange juice had seeped through the shirt.

“Haaaaa…”

Kim Rok Soo sighed deeply. A famous person. That was something he’d never wanted to be, nor be with even in his wildest dreams, nor as an impossible to get Christmas present. Well, to be fair, he didn’t expect to have a soulmate in the first place, but look where that got him.

Even though many would assume otherwise, all he ever wanted was a slacker life, an early retirement, that’s all and nothing more. A tiny, and easily attainable dream. Being the soulmate of a rich person wouldn’t hamper his dream but it would put people’s unwelcome attention on him and that was an unnecessary trade off, especially when he could pave his own way to the desired slacker life.

He would rather go unnoticed than be put under the everlasting spotlight of fame. Money did interest him, however being well-known or being the latest hot topic did not.

That was one of the reasons why he left Deruth and the entire Henituse estate without a fight. It wasn’t like there was any place for him there any way. He got his inheritance which he had in his savings just in case.

Thus he decided that he would just join his hyungs, though that had immediately backfired and he became one of the most famous musicians where everyone wanted him to play the instrument.

Willingly choosing fame was inherently never part of his nature, he was more of a money oriented person. Yet his soulmate had to be really damn famous, huh.

How did he even get himself into this soulmate mess in the first place?

He always told himself to be as smart as a badger yet he overlooked such a crucial detail. Was it because the man had made him so relaxed that he had completely lost track of his words and was too focused on the sound of his low, gentle and overall lovely voice?

It made sense, the man in question was his soulmate after all. It would only be natural for Kim Rok Soo to immediately drop his usually high guard down.

He splashed more water on his face, deciding that he would think about this awkward and unpleasant situation as he was going home. He had a long drive to look forward to anyway.

He trudged out of the bathroom, his eyes were bloodshot as the result of the orange juice getting in his eyelids and his jacket was neatly folded and tucked under his arm. He was greeted by an extremely dejected and worried man at the door. The man could also be called the one responsible for the sweet and sour liquid going in his eyes.

“Hyung?”

Lee Soo Hyuk turned to him. Kim Rok Soo could tell that the elder man was concerned. He walked in large strides and patted Kim Rok Soo’s body down, looking straight into Kim Rok Soo’s eyes, examining the damage he had done. He frowned, “Should I get you eyedrops?”

“Hmm? Is it really needed? It doesn’t hurt that much.” Kim Rok Soo asked, since his mind was preoccupied with the soul mark he wasn’t really paying attention to the throbbing pain in his eye.

“They might be infected,” said Lee Soo Hyuk while he was examining Kim Rok Soo’s eyes.

Kim Rok Soo realized there were streams of tears as a reaction to the citrus juice only after Lee Soo Hyuk pointed it out.

“It really got everywhere, huh?” Lee Soo Hyuk said, looking at the utterly soaked shirt and the removed jacket in Kim Rok Soo's hands.

He removed a handkerchief and wiped the streaming tears along with the dried ones from the younger man’s face.

“It’s not that much, they’ll dry up soon enough.” Kim Rok Soo grumbled, only for the disagreement to be pushed aside, like all the other oppositions that had taken place that day.

Lee Soo Hyuk sighed, looking at the tear-stained face. Though it wouldn’t be proper to call them ‘tears’, it was more of a mere reflex, “My bad. I should’ve been less...startled when you told me that your neighbour was The Alberu Crossman of the Crossman family.” he looked at the blank faced man and tilted his head, “Do you know exactly how famous that family is?”

“No,” Kim Rok Soo said, definitely not revealing the fact that Alberu had told him that he was indeed a famous man, and the fact that his words had completely slipped Kim Rok Soo’s mind only because Kim Rok Soo was only paying attention at Alberu’s voice. Little did he know his vacant look was giving him away to the person he’d known for a long time.

Lee Soo Hyuk looked at the other, inspecting his dongsaeng’s reaction,

“Do you even watch the news anymore?”

Kim Rok Soo fell silent for a while,

“I stopped when they started showcasing me as one of the most popular men.” He felt a rough hand on his cheek which then gently tapped Kim Rok Soo there.

“You should really get over that,” Lee Soo Hyuk said as he wiped the other man’s face one last time. It was gentle despite the coarse hand. Kim Rok Soo knew that his hyung was genuinely trying to help him and nuzzled the hand in an unnoticeable fashion.

“He’s the CEO of the Roan company.” Kim Rok Soo immediately remembered the Roan company. He had heard of it, “The Crossmans are the founders of one of the big corporations with several branches which are humongous even when counted on their own. Recently it was also branded as the longest lasting one.” Lee Soo Hyuk patted Kim Rok Soo’s cheek again and exaggeratedly sighed, “What are we going with you, Rok Soo-ya? You even forgot who runs the company your nephew currently has a branch in.”

Kim Rok Soo’s face turned stoic from the previously blank face at his hyung’s over-the-top reaction, “Henituses were known for their marble and wine branches. But I didn’t know that it was the Crossmans who were in charge. I just remember the Roan Conglomerate. It didn’t concern me after all.”

Lee Soo Hyuk looked at Kim Rok Soo’s now clean yet somewhat red face,

“Do you want to go home? I’ll be driving.”

Kim Rok Soo nodded, since he didn’t want to decline the offer, especially being drenched head to waist in orange juice.

Lee Soo Hyuk led him to their table, as they finally reached there lay a passed out Choi Jung Soo with the three empty glasses and Lee Soo Hyuk’s card accompanied by a paid check on the table.

Lee Soo Hyuk looked at the younger man, and chuckled, “Look at this rascal.”

He draped Choi Jung Soo over his shoulder, turning to Kim Rok Soo before informing him, “Wait for me in the car. I'll just drag this guy over.”

Kim Rok Soo nodded and exited the restaurant and walked over to the parking lot, and gently slid into his car’s passenger seat since his hyung was driving. He reclined in his seat and shut his eyes, turning the faucet to his thoughts and letting them slowly drip which quickly escalated to a waterfall. He started to think about the entire soulmate thing. He knew very well that even though he had a soul mark, there weren't any requirements for him to date the person in question. He knew several people who had met their soulmate yet never crossed the line of friends. It was wholly possible that even if he didn't get together with Alberu right now, Alberu could find his own love somewhere else, and not with him, yet that thought pricked him. Kim Rok Soo also knew that if he did get with the man, everyone's attention would fall on him. On the other hand, there was also the fact that Alberu was completely his type, not to mention Alberu had a pleasing personality. Even though they were the same kind of people, Alberu somehow felt purer than himself.

He remembered the panic attack he saw Alberu experience, just this morning.

He remembered the younger man’s franticness.

He remembered the other’s anxiousness.

He remembered the desperate way Alberu held onto his hand, as if Kim Rok Soo was his only grip on reality.

He remembered how Alberu’s dark eyebags that adorned his face always sunk deep into his cheeks, even though he had been asleep a minute before.

He remembered how fragile Alberu looked.

He remembered how he quickly recovered, like he had been subjected to these sorts of attacks for ages. Even though Kim Rok Soo had experienced such attacks a couple of times himself, he could never get used to the feeling of fear overwhelming him like an overflowing cup.

Alberu looked like a broken mirror to him at the time. A broken mirror who no one wanted to spend their time on fixing. Alberu reminded Kim Rok Soo of himself, before he met his hyungs.

But the brokenness of his soulmate was not the only thing Kim Rok Soo remembered about Alberu.

He remembered how Alberu’s dark skin and hair shimmered under the moonlight, it was like the moon was calling its brethren.

He remembered how cute Alberu looked when he was sleeping on that bench, so adorable Kim Rok Soo was tempted not to wake him up.

He remembered Alberu's embarrassed and red face when he decided to call after him that night.

He remembered the way Alberu’s hair wildly and freely flew open when he was on his balcony. It reminded him of a bird that had finally attained its freedom.

He remembered the sensual way the olive puffer jacket refused to slide down Alberu's arms.

He remembered how inviting Alberu looked glistening with sweat, sitting on his sofa, wearing that pink turtleneck.

He remembered Alberu's unending laugh at his short and ordinary words, at least that’s what Kim Rok Soo thought.

He didn't understand why Alberu laughed, but he did remember the sound. It was like a pleasant tune that played on his mind as he sat in the car.

He remembered the relaxingly cool touch of Alberu’s calloused fingertips.

He remembered everything about this man.

This astoundingly alluring neighbour of his. It was as if Alberu drew Kim Rok Soo towards himself, like a craftsman would be drawn to the right materials. If Alberu was a cracked mirror then Kim Rok Soo would be more than glad to collect the broken shards and create a mosaic that would resemble a stained glass painting.

At that moment Kim Rok Soo knew that he was captivated by this man. Honestly, who wouldn’t, it was a terribly attractive offer. To be the significant other of this wonderful person would be an honor. Though a nagging thought pulled at his mind. Would his affection be-

“-Rok Soo-ya? Are you there?”

Kim Rok Soo’s eyes flew open in surprise. He had fallen too deep into his thoughts, not realizing that the car’s door had opened and closed twice already. He could also see Lee Soo Hyuk’s face painted with a cheeky grin.

“Hyung.” Kim Rok Soo said, rubbing his eyes trying to fall out of the daze .

Lee Soo Hyuk knew that this was an unusual occurrence since Kim Rok Soo wasn’t the type that used to take this much time to respond to his call. Especially since he was alone. Lee Soo Hyuk also knew what Kim Rok Soo would most probably be thinking about right now. He himself had noticed the soul mark but didn’t say a word as he was too busy taking care of his dongsaeng's tears.

“Are you thinking about your dark skinned neighbour and-” he glanced at the now dried and translucent shirt before he continued, “possible soulmate?”

Kim Rok Soo, still in a muddled state, managed to let the words come out of his mouth, without any filter before promptly catching himself, “Ye- I mean no.”

This mixed reaction made Lee Soo Hyuk chuckle. He hadn’t seen such a slip in ages, especially when it came to matters relating to love. 'It was only a couple of years ago he decided to leave the estate.’ Lee Soo Hyuk sniffled, ‘They grow up so fast.’ He swerved into Kim Rok Soo, giving the younger man a hug and dramatically cried, “You grew up too soooonnnn. Three years ago you didn’t even think you’d ever have a lover, and now you have a soulmate. I’m so prouddddd of youuu,” whilst Kim Rok Soo sat in the passenger seat, stiff at the sudden wave of affection he was receiving, but of course he reciprocated it by letting his free arms gently wrap themselves around his hyung’s back. Kim Rok Soo gently nuzzled Lee Soo Hyuk’s neck.

He loved Lee Soo Hyuk. His eldest brother, his respectable mentor who had taught him how to play, his elder brother figure, ever since he was young, his only escape from that excruciatingly stuffy residence. He was someone he knew he could confide in, one of the few people he held the closest to his heart. That was a fact.

Lee Soo Hyuk was a respected person, no matter how you thought about it, wherever you go in the opera world, you would have to hear his name being mentioned whether you liked it or not. He was a famous conductor whose name echoed through the entire opera world with admiration and jealousy.

When Lee Soo Hyuk let Kim Rok Soo go, Kim Rok Soo was sure he could tell Lee Soo Hyuk about the soulmate situation, not that Lee Soo Hyuk didn’t know what Kim Rok Soo was thinking. They knew each other for a long time and naturally had gotten so close to each other that they pretty much guess what the other was thinking.

Lee Soo Hyuk could clearly remember the first time he saw that small ball that he could tell was filled with gloom sitting in the corner of a classroom. Lee Soo Hyuk remembered passing the middle school class while he was a highschool student by the hallway before that ball of gloom caught his eye. The child was thin as if he hadn’t been fed in days. Lee Soo Hyuk also remembered pulling that tiny hand out of that corner desk and asking whether the boy wanted to eat along with him. And when the other accepted, he remembered the way the boy’s stoic face that was barely ticking out of his arms had changed itself to a more startled expression, that was before it changed back to a less animated one.

He remembered how their seemingly small friendship had continued until his college years where Kim Rok Soo had met Choi Jung Soo. Choi Jung Soo, Kim Rok Soo and him got along well enough. He also remembered how Kim Rok Soo’s eyes shone when he saw the saxophone play in a school band for the first time. Even though Kim Rok Soo would never say it out loud, Lee Soo Hyuk knew that his dongsaeng loved the instrument. The same went for Choi Jung Soo, excluding the fact that Choi Jung Soo was more vocal about his love for the flute. Lee Soo Hyuk too loved conducting operas, even more so when he saw his dongsaengs playing every single time. They were his motivation and his younger brothers that he cherished more than anything in the world. He couldn't believe his ears when he found out that one of them, especially the more antisocial one had found someone. Of course, he didn’t think it was a bad attribute of Kim Rok Soo’s to be antisocial but he was overjoyed that someone as humble and emotionally choked up as Kim Rok Soo had got someone who could love him just the way he was. “Hyung,” Kim Rok Soo said as his arms were wrapped around the other.

“Hmm?” mused a happy Lee Soo Hyuk, finally letting go of Kim Rok Soo.

“I need to tell you something.” Kim Rok Soo’s hands slipped down the man’s back as the man shuffled to return back to his seat.

“I’m listening,” he muttered, trying to make himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

Kim Rok Soo knew that Lee Soo Hyuk was indeed paying attention to his words, even though he wasn’t looking at Kim Rok Soo, and so continued speaking, “So, I think you may have already figured it out but I have a soulmate.”

“Mhmmm,” the other hummed, finally sitting without moving around.

“He’s my neighbour, Alberu Crossman.” Kim Rok Soo’s voice was calm, as if he had already understood what was going to happen.

“Figured as much.” Lee Soo Hyuk remarked. He had known ever since Kim Rok Soo told him that his neighbour was Alberu.

He was surprised, to say the least but he still knew that Kim Rok Soo was not done with the even more eye opening comments on his situation.

“I also need your opinion on something.” Kim Rok Soo said as he seat belted himself.

“Go ahead.” Lee Soo Hyuk said as he started the car.

Choi Jung Soo had already been strapped in so there was no problem if Lee Soo Hyuk took him to his house.

“Should I date him even though he’s famous?”

Somehow Lee Soo Hyuk wasn’t surprised at his words even for a bit. “Does his fame really matter?”

Kim Rok Soo deadpanned but Lee Soo Hyuk could see his eyes sparkle, “My slacker life takes the first place in life.”

Even if Kim Rok Soo said that, Lee Soo Hyuk knew that the words were superficial, since many a times Kim Rok Soo was prone to choosing the opposite nevertheless, Kim Rok Soo was a contrary man, but a man that kept his promises. That in itself was contrary.

“Wouldn’t a famous person as a lover have higher chances of leading a successful slacker life?”

Kim Rok Soo looked out of the window and spoke, “I would be put under the public eye, and it would be far worse than it is now.”

Lee Soo Hyuk knew the reason why Kim Rok Soo disliked being the centre of attention. He’d been to the Henituse residence a couple of times. And one thing that had struck him so hard that could remember was Deruth’s picturesque display of hospitality. For some petty reasons, some going along the lines of jealousy and disgust of the limelight placed on Kim Rok Soo, the reason for that was the fact that Kim Rok Soo was delicate and the youngest, not to mention, the adopted one and the one who was chosen.

Lee Soo Hyuk also remembered how the younger brother, who had just been adopted and was clueless about the house’s atmosphere, was admonished and humiliated several times, sometimes even appearing bruised. He remembered seeing Kim Rok Soo’s eyes grow dim whenever he talked to the elder sibling, or even made eye contact with the elder.

Their age gap was large, spanning about over 10 years, yet it had always surprised Lee Soo Hyuk how Deruth acted. He acted in such petty jealousy of the attention Kim Rok Soo received from their father, he left Kim Rok Soo utterly traumatized of ever receiving things, so traumatized that he left the house and thought that he was the one at fault, that he was the one who was intruding, that he was better off with receiving an allowance every year without returning to the place of his birth, well not that Kim Rok Soo would want to. The allowance was large, as if it was consolation money. Maybe it was.

Lee Soo Hyuk wasn’t sure but he thought that was why Kim Rok Soo was so obsessed with his early retirement to be peaceful and mainly, not attract any attention. Perhaps, it was because of the years he had spent in that hellhole.

Lee Soo Hyuk knew Deruth, not that well, but well enough to decide that he didn't like the child’s personality, despite it becoming a little more amiable when he had married his first wife. Only when his first child was born did Kim Rok Soo decide that he wanted to accept the long time invitation of reestablishing contact. It was not much so of regaining contact than it was not wanting his nephew to go through the same things he did, not that he would admit it.

Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo shared some things in common one of them being their extreme dislike towards Deruth, not his children of course, those little rascals were adorable. Lee So Hyuk still remembers the day when Kim Rok Soo had volunteered to babysit the two sons; Basen and Cale.The reason being the fact that Violan, Deruth’s second wife, went on a vacation to get herself some rest for her upcoming pregnancy, along with her husband, of course. Basen was eight and Cale was eleven. Cale was rather annoyed all the time, until Kim Rok Soo gave him a lollipop, after that his face lit up like a firework on a starry night. Lee Soo Hyuk remembered the small pale child, with flushed cheeks sitting only next to Kim Rok Soo. Cale said that it was because Kim Rok Soo had the lollipops, which he absolutely loved, but everyone knew that wasn’t the case.

Basen liked Kim Rok Soo because the elder man fascinated him, and he liked the way he played the saxophone. He had all these memories stored in his brain solely because these were joyful instances, some that continued even today. Even when the small Cale had grown up to be a splendid twenty five year old, even when the curious Basen seemed to have matured into a calm adult, they both seemed to revert back to the way they were when they were kids in front of Kim Rok Soo. It was also known how overprotective Kim Rok Soo was of the duo, which then evolved into a trio as Lily was born.

Lee Soo Hyuk was genuinely glad that his dongsaeng had gotten a soulmate, albeit unexpected who the soulmate was, it was good to have his thoughts take form in reality and that someone other than people close to Kim Rok Soo, who all had their own partners to worry about, had dug deep enough to find that the stoic man made a splendid companion.

Even though it didn’t take that much time for Alberu to crack this seemingly tough nut.

“So,” Lee Soo Hyuk asked, “Are you going to ask him out on a date?”

Kim Rok Soo looked out of the side view mirror for a second before answering,

“Yes.”

Alberu returned to his seat on the couch, after feeding the two cats and washing the cup, still dazed and trying to register what he just saw.

‘That- that was a soulmark, right? Really? I’m not that sleep deprived, am I?’ He raised his sweater once more to see the mark.

‘So it wasn’t a hallucination.’

He sighed in defeat, until he felt a small head purring under his hand, which made his downcast gaze shift and meet the grey cat’s gleaming yellow eyes, “Hmmm?” he hummed in confusion.

The grey cat’s beady eyes seemed to twist into a more annoyed way each time Alberu saw them, or perhaps that was just his imagination.

Alberu leaned over his shoulder, “What should I do about this now?”

‘I do like the idea. Should I just see how it goes before jumping to any more conclusions.’

“What the hell should I do-”

His lamenting was cut off by the shrill sound of the doorbell, which made him scramble to his feet, leaving the two cats startled at this unexpected noise.

When Alberu opened the door, he was finally greeted by the long awaited and familiar face of his college friend and secretary. Alberu looked at the other with a half irritated expression, “You really took your time, huh?”

The taller man, tanned and adorned with two small black stars under his eyes, had a look of nonchalance, his short sun-kissed hair with beach wave nature bobbing gently alongside the wind.

He spoke with little or no care of the standing between the two individuals, despite the other being the superior, with an audible british accent.

“Sir, I was called by Mistress Angelina and Sir Choi Jung Gun for tea a while before you called me to retrieve your keys, which I presumed was an easy thing to not forget, but I suppose even the greatest minds can slip up-”

He was cut off with an annoyed shush by the other, “Could you please stop with the unpleasant pleasantries of yours.”

Taerang took a pause, before scanning the younger man, “How did you manage to get so wet?”

Alberu sighed, “It’s a long story.”

He heard a small mew near his leg, which prompted him to look down to see the red cat rubbing itself on his ankle. Alberu looked back at Taerang, motioning that they should move locations, preferably to his home, in response to which Taerang simply nodded.

After a sorrowful parting with the cats, Alberu shut Kim Rok Soo’s door and turned to look at Taerang who looked a bit surprised.

“What’s wrong?” Alberu asked, walking through the hallway.

Taerang’s head slightly tilted, walking at an equal pace, “You’re quite close to your neighbor. Did you already tell him who you are?”

Alberu flinched, “Not at all.”

Alberu flinching would normally not be noticeable to other people, but Taerang knew Alberu, so he could easily see through him. “Really? I’ll have to report to Miss Tasha either way. You do remember the repercussions of disclosing your identity, right?”

Alberu was silent until they reached his house, “We’ve reached. Let’s talk here.”

When Kim Rok Soo returned, he saw his hall exactly how he had left it. He felt the two cats mewling at his feet. He picked the red one up and sat down on the sofa, the other following him and laying herself on his lap.

The rest of Kim Rok Soo’s day was uneventful, except the fact of him planning the confession before he slept. He decided to talk with the other person for a while, and see whether the other thought the same. Going slow would be the best for now, he thought, turning to his side.

But you know life had always been cruel to him, always raising his expectations, only to let him see them come crashing down like a child’s sandcastle built too close to the sea. Again, and again, without any pause. This time was no different.

The next evening Kim Rok Soo decided to visit Alberu, he wasn’t greeted with the annoyed expression he’d expect from the darker man, instead, he was greeted by a paper stuck on the door that read in big font,

‘Now on sale! Buy a new flat-’

Kim Rok Soo didn’t bother reading the rest. He was too shocked to comprehend the words plastered on the face of the flyer.

#kim rok soo #alberu #alberu crossman #tcf #trash of the count's family #choi jun soo being sleeping gremlin #lee soo hyuk

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kinglazrus · 4 years ago

Text

Not Your Danny – Ch 5. Fresh Air

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Word count: 3075

Dani hesitates at the top of the stairs. The lab door, when closed, looks comically when compared to the rest of the house. Set halfway down the hall that bisects the house, from either end, the doorway appears normal. When you get closer, however, and the door itself comes into view, a smattering of warning signs greets your eyes. The yellow and black stripes, the deep red biohazard symbol, one bright green sign that just reads GHOSTS AHEAD!, are the only pops of colour against the off-white walls.

The signs draw the eye to a comical degree. They remind Dani of cheap Halloween decorations, slapped on the nearest empty surface in the hopes that more signs equal more scares.

It's not as funny when the door is open. Metal plating gleams along the walls, some of the seams between them crusted with dried ectoplasm. More stains litter the stairs, left by careless, unclean feet. Far below, the pristine white tiles of the lab floor are lit by a soft green glow.

She hasn't even entered the lab, but just a glimpse of the room below transports her back to Vlad's place in Wisconsin and that cold room where she spent hours alone. It was the worst before she learned how to go intangible, when she was stuck with nowhere to go. Vlad didn't have the time to go down to the lab every day, but when he could, he worked feverishly on making newer, better clones than her.

"Siblings for you," Vlad called them, but Dani knows the truth now. Replacements, since she hadn't been good enough for him.

So many times, Vlad made a clone that was almost stable, almost life-like, but they would die overnight. Dani could never take her eyes away from it, no matter how much it horrified her. Seeing other clones melt away to nothing, their skin sloughing off, muscle dripping from their bones until those, too, liquified into nothing.

If Vlad had known Danny was transgender, maybe he wouldn't have seen Dani as such a failure. He might have loved her properly—or at all.

She doesn't want to go down the stairs, not when such horrible memories are already clamouring for attention. But Maddie is down there, and it might be hours before she comes upstairs. Bracing herself against the wall, Dani leans forward on her toes and calls down. "Maddie?"

Although she can hear shuffling coming from below, she gets no answer.

"Maddie?" she says again, a little louder.

Still no answer.

Swallowing her nerves, Dani goes down the steps. She keeps her arms in, even as her legs shake and threaten to give out on her, she doesn't want to touch the walls. Her gaze doesn't stray from her feet, either, fixed firmly on where she is stepping. When she reaches the last stair, she squeezes her eyes shut.

It's fine. This isn't Vlad's lab. There might be some similarities, they aren't the same. Like her and Danny.

I am at Fenton Works. I am at home. I am at Fenton Works. She repeats the mantra over and over. Her heart doesn't stop pounding, but eventually, she has to look up or turn back around, and she doesn't want to give up now. Steeling herself, she looks up and opens her eyes.

It's not Vlad's lab.

Of course, it isn't. Dani knew that the whole time. Actually seeing it, however, fills her with relief. Instead of bubbling vats full of half-formed bodies, they have long counters full of inventions. Although the floors have a few scuffs and some noticeable burn marks, there are no dubious stains of questionable origin.

The only true similarity Dani can find is the specimen cabinet. Its glass doors reveal the rows upon rows of ectoplasmic samples hidden inside. The vials sit on labelled racks, sorted through some mysterious method Dan is not privy to.

One rack, near the front of the cabinet, is labelled PHANTOM, DANI. Out of the four vials, two are empty, the third is missing, and the fourth—her blood sample— is half-full. Looking around at all the weapons down here, Dani hopes her samples went to good use. The last thing she wants is one of these guns firing at her without warning.

Dani finds the missing vial with Maddie on the other side of the lab. Maddie sits at one of two desks, hers far neater than the other. The vial of ectoplasm, still capped, rests by Maddie's elbow. In front of her, a gun sprawls out in pieces. Maddie's head is lowered over the gun as she works on it.

"Maddie?" Dani asks.

Maddie takes a deep breath before looking up. She can't hide the slight widening of her eyes when she sees Dani's human face, but she doesn't flee, which is a vast improvement from last time. "Yes, dear?"

"Is it okay if I go out somewhere?"

"Of course. Where do you want to go?"

"Nowhere in particular. I haven't left the house since I got here."

"Really? That can't be right."

"It is." To be completely honest, Dani hadn't been sure if she was allowed to leave. The Fentons never laid out any ground rules for staying with them. Nor did they let her in on what a usual household day is like. After a week and a half, Dani has figured out more or less how things go, but only now does she realize that the Fentons never did anything to accommodate her.

Not that she knows what accommodations she needs, but it's odd, isn't it? Someone new moves in and they keep doing what they have always done.

"I didn't even notice," Maddie admits. "I'm so used to D—the kids doing whatever they want as long as they aren't out late. You don't need to ask us if you want to go somewhere." She leans back over the dismantled gun, grabbing a core piece with a dozen little wires sticking out of it. "Don't forget to text. And be home by curfew, young man."

—

Depends on when that is.

Maddie's mind fills in the automatic response, a perfect copy of Danny's usual snark. Several seconds pass before she realizes no one said it out loud. She glances up from her work and finds herself alone in the lab. Dani left without saying anything. The discovery cuts her deeper than it has any right to.

Maddie's parting remark runs through her head again. She gasps, finally registering what she said, and drops the barrel component in her hand.

She goes over her parting remark in her head and gasps. She didn't mean to say that. The words rose instinctively to her lips, spoken without any consideration of who she had been talking to. It was such a small thing, too; a meaningless ritual built between Danny and Maddie over the years.

"Be home by curfew," she would say.

"Depends on when that is," he would answer.

When was the last time she and Danny had this exchange? It only happened when he told her he was going out, which wasn't very often in recent years, but the instinct was still there. Maddie presses a hand against her eyes.

Danny's absence resonated throughout Fenton Works, but little moments like this cut deeper than they should. All their little rituals. Backwash soda. Small things Maddie didn't realize she would miss until they were gone. And at the centre of it all was Dani, subject to Maddie's moments of weakness, filling in that piece of her Danny took when he died, but not quite fitting.

Maybe this was a mistake.

"I'm sorry, Dani," she tells the empty lab.

—

It feels good to fly again. Sitting in the house with nothing to do, Dani was starting to get stir crazy. Finally getting some fresh air in her lungs and some wind in her hair does wonders to alleviate her mood. Not even Maddie's slip up in the lab can bring Dani down now, no matter how much thinking about it makes her skin prickle.

She soars far over the city, letting her instincts take over as the people below get smaller and smaller.

Amity Park airspace is perfect for flying. It sees so little traffic from planes, drones, or anything else like that. People in the area know to steer clear of the skies in case a ghost is about. Danny once told her that the airport actually diverts planes around the city if they're flying too low.

Not even birds like to be up here.

Dani relishes the feeling of wind buffeting her body. She lets her control slip, plummeting through the air. Spreading her arms, she guides her fall without the use of her powers, grinning wide against the roaring wind. She and Danny might not have liked all the same things, but they could certainly agree on this: there is nothing more amazing than flying.

A good hour passes with Dani in the air. She dips down toward the city a few times, swooping through the streets. The tall downtown buildings and fast-moving cars make a great obstacle course, especially when she flies at top speed.

"Is that Phantom?" someone shouts.

Dani has to stop and backtrack, flying by the voice so fast she almost doesn't hear it. Lounging in the air, she peers down at the sidewalk. "Someone called?"

A kid holding his mother's hand scowls. "You're not Phantom."

Dani sticks her tongue out at the brat. "Dani-with-an-I Phantom, thank you very much."

"I don't care. You're not Danny Phantom."

Dani's smile freezes in place. The brat, who can't be more than eight, makes a rude gesture over his shoulder as his mom pulls him away.

"Charming kid!" Dani shouts after them. The woman pulls her son along faster. Dani's expression goes flat. The brief exchange leaves a sour taste in her mouth and an ache in her chest. Flying right now doesn't seem fun anymore. She lowers herself to the street, ignoring the whispers around her, and transforms.

A few people gasp, but she ignores that, too. Who cares if they see her? The whole city already knows the truth about Danny. It wouldn't take a genius to reach the same conclusions about her.

Her hands go to the front of her shirt, seeking out her hoodie pocket. Belatedly, she remembers that she hasn't worn the hoodie in days. At night, she puts on the pyjamas Maddie bought for her, and in the morning she dons her new favourite shirt along with one of the several skirts Jazz gave her.

The first time Dani transformed from human to ghost wearing these clothes, she was worried they might disappear, or her hoodie and shorts would reappear. To her utter delight, no such thing happened. The skirt she wears now is a little long for her. She has it pulled up to her waist, with the star shirt tucked underneath, and rolled the waistband several times until the skirt rested around her knees. The soft fabric swishes about her legs, so much lighter than what she is used to.

Taking in her surroundings, Dani notes the big box stores around her. She recognizes the area, although she has only seen it from the air. The Amity Par Mall should be somewhere close by. Although Dani doesn't have any money for clothes, she could window shop and look at what's available. That should help lift her spirits.

—

The usual chatter blankets the mall food court. Beyond the tables, a kiosk for a local store advertises unique Danny Phantom merch. T-shirts, phone cases, and hats bearing Danny's iconic logo sit out on display. From her seat facing the kiosk, Sam can see water bottles shaped like the Fenton Thermos, plushies that vaguely resemble the local haunts, and even a few fake ecto-guns.

But the centrepiece of the display is a poster, unmistakably new. It features Danny twice over, as Phantom and Fenton, standing back-to-back with himself. The sight of it fills her with rage.

"How dare they." Sam seethes.

Seated across from her, Tucker nods. The soda cup in his hand crumples as his grip tightens. "Isn't that illegal, too? Using his likeness and all?"

"Absolutely. Especially since he's a minor."

"Was," Tucker corrects her, his voice soft.

"Right. Was." The memory of Danny's last moments flashes through her mind. Sam flinches, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut the image out. It doesn't work. The moment is all too vivid in her mind and she doesn't think it will ever fade.

Movies like to give heroes slow deaths, dramatic last words spoken with a final breath, the warmth of a loved one nearby. They make it so easy to forget that most of the time people don't get anything like that. Most of the time they drop, and they're gone.

Her hands feel sticky and warm, her throat hoarse.

The stunned silence of the street after it happened presses down on her.

"Looks like they have a website. I take care of that and you take care of the lawyers?" Tuck says.

Sam opens her eyes. She has to rub her hands together to remind her they're dry now, have been for weeks. Still, that doesn't stop her from picturing dried blood beneath her nails.

"Yeah," she says after a moment. "Sounds like a plan."

Whoever owns that kiosk is going to regret using their dead best friend for profit. Sam and Tucker will make them burn.

Sam's glare turns from the man working the kiosk to the shoppers browsing its wares. Her anger stretches to them, too, though not as much. She can't blame a child for wanting merch of their hero. Three of the five shoppers lingering around the stand are children, the oldest in her teens. Except instead of happily perusing the merch like her younger counterparts, this girl glares at the stand with nearly as much hatred as Sam.

Something about her is familiar, too. Sam can't see her profile in full, since the girl is angled away, but she can't shake the feeling that she's seen this girl before.

"Holy shit, is that Danielle?" Tucker asks.

Sam's eyes widen. He's right. Without the signature red and blue, Sam didn't recognize her. Dani's new outfit suits her, though. "Jazz said she saw Dani before the funeral. Where has she been?"

Sam stands up. Tucker rises with her, having the same idea. They dump their food trays at the garbage station and make a beeline for Dani.

"Danielle!" Tucker waves to the halfa, who turns at his shout.

Dani smiles when she sees them. "Hey!"

"Nice shirt." Tucker flicks Dani's collar. "About time someone put it to good use."

"Are you staying at Fenton Works?" Sam asks. Like Tucker, she recognizes the shirt and knows there's only one place Dani could have gotten it.

Dani kicks the floor with her heel, the sole of her shoes squeaking against the tiles. "Yeah. Jazz invited me to move in. It's... okay."

Over Dani's head, Sam and Tucker share a concerned look. They recognize that tone. It's one of the few things Dani and Danny have in common, at least that Sam has seen. Dani's voice dips at the end of her sentence, going low and flat. Jazz does it, too, sometimes. It's probably a Fenton thing more than it is a Danny and Dani thing.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks.

"Trouble adjusting, that's all. It's not a big deal." Dani shrugs.

Sam wants to question her further but lets the subject drop. It's fine if Dani wants to keep it to herself, although Sam prefers if she didn't. Either way, they aren't going to leave her like this.

"Doing some shopping?" Sam already knows the answer, though. Dani doesn't have a purse, or a wallet, or any money with her by the looks of it.

Dani confirms her suspicions. "Just looking."

"Cool. Can we look with you?" Tucker rests an arm on Dani's head, using her as a post for leaning. It works like a charm, drawing a half-hearted grumble and a small smile out of Dani. "We're here to people watch. And take care of assholes like this." Tucker nods toward the Phantom kiosk.

This time, Dani giggles. "Yeah, sure. We can take you to all the girl stores."

Tucker pales. "Wait, no. I change my mind."

"Too late!" Dani latches onto the arm resting on her head.

Sam quickly grabs Tucker's other arm until he's squished between the two girls, growing rapidly more distressed as they steer toward the closest store with a bright pink sign. These kinds of stores aren't Sam's thing, and she normally wouldn't be caught dead in one, but she can put up with it for a while if it keeps the smile on Dani's face.

—

Dani takes her bag from the store clerk with nothing short of reverence lighting her face. Even though she just watched the clerk pack it, Dani can't help but open the bag and peer inside at her new purchases: a skirt, a pair of shorts, and a handful of button-ups like the one she already wears.

Beside her, Sam slips her wallet back into her pocket.

"Have a nice day!" the clerk says.

"Thanks. You, too!" Tucker's hand settles on Dani's back, nudging her out of the store.

As soon as they exit, Dani spins and jumps at Sam. "Thank you so much!" When they went into the store, she didn't expect to find anything she liked, but everything inside was so different from what she found in Danny's closet. Especially the pastel colours.

"Consider it a welcome home present," Sam says. Her arm curls around Dani's back, squeezing her tightly.

"Group hug!" Tucker says before draping himself over both of them.

Dani's breath catches in her throat. When was the last time she touched someone like this? Sam and Tucker's arms surrounded her, their warmth making her skin tingle. For a second, she can't breathe, so overwhelmed by the contact that everything else ceases to exist.

Against her will, her shoulders start to shake. She clings to Sam and Tucker tighter, fists gripping the back of their shirts as she draws them closer. Tears welled in her eyes, rising from somewhere deep within her that she had been pushing down. Now, though, in the warmth of Sam and Tucker's embrace, Dani cries for the first time since Danny died.

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#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #notyourdanny #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #trans danny #trans danny fenton #nyd chapter five

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years ago

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Soulmates?

requested!

Early rises and strolls to work for the opening shift are far more pleasant than imaginable. The sun rising slowly over the horizon whilst the pathways are clear of other people and hardly any cars noisily taking up road space. It’s calming, beautiful, in fact, to see the change in hues in the sky from a deep orange to a lighter yellow once it’s high enough above everything else. A camera roll full of pictures taken with the beams blazing down could never possibly do it justice, but it does help take off some of the chills during the winter months just looking at them.

It’s quite an easy job, truth be told, the only complication that ever presents itself is through difficult customers and they are few and far between thankfully. Doing the rounds to turn on all of the appliances and the fridge lights is a welcomed routine compared to the never-ending cleaning that comes with a closing shift. It should be a world record how long it takes to hoover the floors, mop them, and then try not to mess up all of that hard work by creating a shoe path through the wet flooring.

For the last six months, Mina has been working at the convenience store, and taking on every single shift her schedule will allow whilst still trying to continue her studies. Serving customers isn’t the be-all and end-all but she is grateful to have been offered the position with no experience in hospitality whatsoever. The owners had recently had to let go of one of their original employees after he was caught taking money from the register thus she was hired before even sitting the interview out of desperation to replace him.

Whilst there are a few customers who are tough to deal with, there are also the locals who are always full of small snippets about their lives, or, will simply offer a courteous smile if their own day is not going as planned. Her favorite, however, is watching all the young and in love couples enter the store together, there’s something about watching their small yet romantic gestures toward one another, and whilst the green-eyed monster known as jealousy would rear its head for anyone else, Mina merely longs to feel what they are one day with her true love.

A soulmate is a difficult thing to explain to anyone which is why it is taught and told from such a young age. The idea that there is one single individual wandering this Earth who is meant to be just as in love with you as you are them, and no one else seems unreasonable or forceful at best. Every relationship in life is significant and can work if each of you put in the work to make sure that it lasts. Just look at how often people will get attached to celebrity relationships, only for them to break up a few years down the line and people are convinced love isn’t real. In fact, there are many people during her life who have told her it was a crazy idea to hold out for ‘the one’.

However, Mina has always been a hopeless romantic and never been able to grasp the concept of dating multiple people when there is a very clear sign on her right hand linking her to the one she’s meant to be with. The one who will offer her a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever they exchange so much as a glance. The one who she’ll meet for the first time and something inside of her will click, telling her that they are the one for her. The one who will offer her endless reassurance whenever things in life get difficult. She’s always wanted it all, and more. But, they’ve yet to enter her life and whisk her off her feet.

Her mother would often share tales about meeting her father when they were younger, both of them too scared to reveal their markings, both of which being on their legs in the shape of a tiny rocket, to confirm what they had believed to be true, that they are soulmates. But, one day her father invited her mother to a break from an intense study session by going into his pool. They had both completely forgotten about having not shown their markings but as it turned out, they were the exact same. It was always Mina’s favorite bedtime story to hear about how her parents fell in love with each other, their own firm belief in soulmates only furthering her desire to find her own.

There were plenty of people during her early years that Mina thought were going to be the one, and rather than following entirely in her parents’ footsteps, she’d find any excuse to look at people’s right hand, such as holding their hand as she grabbed a skipping rope from them, or even going as far as gifting the girl next door an orange every single day on the bus to school until one day she took it with her right one. All of which failed miserably but she never gave up hope that one day it would simply happen without her having to think too much about it.

A small four-leaf clover resting directly in the palm of her right hand. It’s beautiful, and Mina often finds herself tracing it back and forth whenever she’s bored. Her father had explained to her that it must mean her life with her soulmate will be full of luck, but finding them alone will require a lot of luck, Mina isn’t so sure she’ll be gifted any more beyond that.

Today is no different from every other morning shift, no one bothers to enter for at least the first hour which means restocks and ordering anything that appears to be running low. The higher shelves she has to grab the old wooden ladders from the storeroom in the back, which, she’s convinced are going to one day give way and break causing her to crash through the display behind her. However, the manager, Mr. Kim, no matter how many times she asks him to get some new ladders simply states that he’s going to soon. When soon is exactly, Mina has no idea but she doubts it will be soon.

“Is anyone working?” A high-pitched voice calls out close to the counter. From her spot on the bottom rung of the ladders, Mina can only just say make out some brown hair.

The bell for the door to signal a customer had entered has clearly not done its job as Mina quickly rushes around to see who it is that’s waiting for her. Fortunately, it isn’t one of the angry customers who no doubt would have put in a complaint about her for not being at the counter, but instead, it’s Sana who works in the coffee shop just up the street and often calls in for a morning visit when they’re both on earlies. Mina thinks Sana has a sixth sense about this because they’ve never formally exchanged schedules with one another nor do they know each other beyond each other’s respective workplaces.

Sana’s own soul mark is directly under her left eye, a small golden star with sparks flying off of it. Mina adores it and finds that it makes Sana’s already beautiful eyes even more charming to look at.

“Ah, there you are Mina. Here, I brought you your usual. If the morning is kicking my ass, I know it is for you too.” Sana says as she hands over Mina’s usual order of an americano. Her eyes look tired and Mina can tell she isn’t fully present as of yet. “What were you doing? Do you know the bell is broken?”

“Restocks,” She quickly takes a sip of the piping hot drink, Sana subconsciously doing the same but regretting it when it burns her tongue a little. “Thank you for this. It was warm out on my walk-in but those clouds look threatening.” The pair of them look out the window to see the sky now lacking the sun-flamed sky that Mina adores and replaced by dark, overcast clouds. “No, I didn’t know the bell was broken until now, it seems everything is falling apart in here.”

“Did you get your new ladders yet?”

“Nope.” Mina pauses to look back toward where they’re just standing in the middle of an aisle and gives herself a mental reminder to move them once Sana leaves. “I’m thinking about just fetching my own in from home, we’re never going to get them and now, the bell probably won’t be fixed for the foreseeable.”

Sana’s eyes follow Mina’s toward the aisles and then drift up toward the bell above the door. She places her cup down onto the counter and taps Mina’s hand to get her attention back on herself.

“Don’t bring your own. I might know someone who can bring you some and fix the doorbell, you’ll still be here at 1 PM, right?”

“Yeah, I finish at 3, but you know he’ll never agree to pay for any repairs Sana, and especially not ones he hasn’t personally authorized”

“Don’t worry about it Mina, she owes me a favor anyway. Just take it as yet another act of kindness from your favorite and prettiest barista.” Sana chortles, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Oh, Jeongyeon is going to get some new ladders for me? I didn’t realize that’s what you meant.” Mina jokes knowing just how to make Sana a little jealous.

“Very funny, you know I meant myself, not her… Though now you’ve said it, you’re right, it could have meant her.” There’s a quick flash of Sana’s eyes unfocusing and drifting off likely to thoughts of her co-worker who she’s been dating for around a year. They aren’t soulmates but Jeongyeon isn’t a believer and Sana thinks she has too much love to give for one person. However, Mina has often caught Jeongyeon tenderly stroking Sana’s soul mark whenever they believe no one is around.

“Who is it?” Mina queries upon realizing Sana never said who it was that would be her savior.

“Hm? Oh… right. Don’t worry about it, just a friend of mine who can repair it for you.” Sana quickly looks up toward the clock on the back wall and picks her cup up from the counter before shifting toward the door, bell once again not working when she opens it. “Okay, I gotta go but 1 PM, be here not hiding in an aisle, or next time I might just snitch to Mr. Kim. Bye!” She shouts heading out before Mna can say goodbye in return.

It’s a fairly easy day, the weather does indeed end up turning sour as a downpour quickly starts not long after Sana had left and doesn’t ease up even for a second. There are only a handful of customers who enter and the majority of them are simply trying to escape the rain, which Mina is supposed to ask whether they’re going to purchase anything or not but she doesn’t have the heart to force them out into the cold, thus there was at one point just a collective of people stood by the door hoping for a dry spell that never arrives. They do all fortunately shuffle off one by one, all of which running to their cars or the next building for shelter.

By the time 1 PM rolls around, Mina had completely forgotten about her conversation with Sana. The ongoing entertainment of watching people force their jackets up over their heads whilst trying not to walk into streetlights had provided enough of a distraction for her. So, when someone with their coat up over their head holding a pair of ladders enters the shop, Mina simply believes they’re a customer.

The coat comes down to rest around her shoulders and reveals a face that is small yet striking. Eyes dark and wide, nose bright red from the cold, and the rest of her skin an olive color. She’s tall, quite tall in fact as she stands above the very ladders she’s holding around her left arm. A toolkit rests in her right hand, it’s small but looks heavy, however, if it is, the girl doesn’t let on as she carries it easily. Her frame hidden by the huge coat slumped around her but Mina finds her breathtaking and can’t quite remove her eyes from her face.

“Um… hello?” The girl waves a hand in front of Mina’s face dragging her out of the hypnosis she’s sure this girl had just put her under. “Are you Mina?” Yet again, Mina drifts off elsewhere upon hearing her name exit this girl’s mouth so softly.

“Y-Yes... I am… Mina. Yes. Sorry. I’m Mina.” She stutters, quickly trying to make even a slight bit of sense.

“Yeah, I got it the first time. Sana told me you need some ladders and your doorbell is broke?” The girl poses as a question but quickly gets to work looking at the doorbell which isn’t far away from her head but Mina would struggle to get anywhere close to reaching it. “Those are yours, by the way.” She points toward the ladders. They’re brand new, metal. Far sturdier than the wooden ones.

“Thank you, um…” Mina hesitates, realizing she hadn’t asked for the girl’s name as of yet, nor did Sana tell her who she was.

“Tzuyu.” She states flatly, never bothering to look back toward Mina whose eyes are piercing through the back of Tzuyu’s head never moving.

It doesn’t take her long to fix the doorbell. The batteries inside had managed to corrode and damaged some of the inner-wirings but luckily, Tzuyu had some spare on hand in her toolbox and got it back to signaling the door opening and closing in no time. Mina has no idea what Tzuyu has just technically done as she’s never been the most gifted when it comes to repairs, however, watching her weave the wiring together and connect all of the pieces back together certainly looked impressive.

There’s an awkward silence for a second as Tzuyu steps away from the door to finally look at Mina once again, neither of them knowing how to finish off this unpaid transaction of services.

“Um… Thank you,” Mina starts, but is unsure how to continue, just knows that she wants to continue talking. “So, Sana said you’re doing this as a favor to her?” Mina tries to ask, Tzuyu, however, moves to retrieve her toolkit from the ground.

“Yes. She’s a good friend.” Tzuyu says coldly, turning toward the door to leave but then swiftly back to the counter. “It was… It was nice to meet you, Mina.” Her voice more upbeat this time, yet forced as she outstretches her right hand in front of Mina.

Without hesitating, Mina grasps her hand in her own in a handshake. However, her skin immediately feels an electric shock the second their palms connect with one another, and Mina is stunned into just standing there frozen. Tzuyu is the first to pull her hand away which startles Mina back to reality realizing she wasn’t alone in feeling it. But, before she’s given the opportunity to talk to the girl in front of her the small four-leaf clover resting in the center of Tzuyu’s palm quietens any words that were close to escaping leaving them stuck in her throat.

Tzuyu catches sight of Mina’s same soul mark and immediately rushes out of the door and away from her without a word.

A big part of Mina is telling her not to be stupid, telling her not to risk her job by chasing after her and potentially being seen as a weird stalker. However, the other side that desperately wants to figure out if this moment is the one she’s been searching for, the one she’s been seeking since the very first time she was even told about soulmates. With the consequences for her actions at the very back of her head, she dashes out of the door following Tzuyu and runs to catch up with her, stopping outside of the coffee shop where Sana works as she grabs onto Tzuyu’s arm to stop her, the same shock feeling coursing across her skin as she does so.

“You have it too and you feel it. Tell me… that you feel that.” Mina huffs out, breath struggling to catch up to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tzuyu blurts out hurriedly upon noticing some eyes starting to watch on, her own eyes refusing to look at Mina. “Let me go.”

“No, I know you feel it. I saw you pull away just before… and you have the same mark like me. You know what this means, right?”

The silence between them returns as both Sana and Jeongyeon exit the coffee shop together to watch the interaction between the two girls unfold, a few people stop in the middle of the street to eavesdrop in, one of them even pulling out their phone to record it. Jeongyeon moves to ask them to put their phone away and they reluctantly comply.

“Is everything okay, Mina?” Sana asks.

“Yes, Sana, everything is fine.” Tzuyu answers for her. “Go back inside.”

The two girls shuffle back into the coffee shop, however, they remain by the door just in case whatever is happening between Mina and Tzuyu goes further downhill than it clearly already is even if neither of them will say why.

“Please, just say something… I know you have it too.”

“Look, Mina… I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you’ve created for yourself inside your head that you so clearly live in… but just because you have the same tiny little mark as someone doesn’t mean anything. Yes, everyday people rely on such a silly little thing to determine their entire lives, and good for them if that’s what they want. But it isn’t for me. You’re not for me.” Tzuyu’s voice cold and without any emotion whatsoever, and yet Mina can feel every single emotion inside herself all at once fighting for dominance over which one will retort back to her.

“But…” Mina barely whispers, unable to form a full sentence.

“But nothing, we just met.. You can’t really believe that we’re now supposed to spend the rest of our lives together because of that one single moment.” Tzuyu pauses, waiting to see if Mina will answer before continuing when she doesn’t. “Plus… I already… I already have a girlfriend.”

For the first time in her life, doubt about who she is supposed to spend her life with has managed to creep up and break down all of the previous standards for love Mina had put. Her hand uncurls itself from around Tzuyu’s arm and she sinks down to the floor because she’s right. All this time, Mina thought that having a soulmate or one set person who you’re supposed to always be with was how life is supposed to be, giving it far too much control and power over her to the point where she has likely pushed away plenty of others who would have no doubt made her happy, made her fall in love, and made her look forward to her future.

Instead, she’s given all of the power and control to someone she hadn’t even met yet. Now that she has, she realizes her mistake because Tzuyu could never be the one for her, even if the mark is there. They are not compatible whatsoever, not at this moment. Perhaps, during different times in their lives, they could be perfect for one another, and perhaps they could live out all of the things Mina has dreamed about. But Tzuyu is taken, and Mina is too much of a fantasist.

Mina can feel Sana and Jeongyeon slowly raise her up off the ground, however, her entire focus is on Tzuyu’s retreating figure walking away from her down the street. She can hear them talking to her and asking what has happened but her throat is unable to produce sound. Everything feels so cold and as if she’s surrounded by emptiness.

Perhaps, there is no such thing as soulmates after all. Perhaps, there never will be.

#twice imagines #twice scenarios #mina imagines #tzuyu imagines #mitzu #mina x tzuyu #kpop imagines #girl group imagines #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios #twice angst #twice fic #mina #tzuyu #myoui mina #chou tzuyu

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #242: “EASY COME... EASY GO!”

April, 1984

“Okay Avengers, the party’s over!”

Being a buzzkill, party-hating Cover Vision!

Hmm. Something about this cover makes it feel like from an older era. The returned Mighty Avengers logo or maybe the inking? Or perhaps the Silver Age DC superdickery energy to it? I can’t put my finger on it but this feels like a cover you’d see in the 70s instead of the 80s.

Last time on Avengers: Well, they went to San Francisco for a two-parter where they fought Morgan Le Fey to save Jessica Drew’s soul. As ya do.

Vision has also been a tube boy after he walked into a null field. Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomputer and that didn’t fix him, it did overclock his robot brain and let him broadcast giant holograms of his own head. That’s almost as good.

This time:

Some guy: “HOLY GEEZ!”

An interesting note, this guy has only ever seen Quinjets in pictures and never thought he’d see one in person. Tells you how often the Avengers hang around Ottumwa, Iowa.

We start with the Avengers in mid-return from California.

In one of the Quinjets, She-Hulk is telling Starfox that she wished they could have spent more time before returning to New York so she could have shown him LA.

Starfox: “Ah, well... I’m sure another opportunity will present itself, She-Hulk! Besides, the scenery around her has plenty to offer!”

Wanda looks like she’s trying to astral project away from Starfox putting his hand on her shoulder but she’s really just distracted thinking about Vision.

The Avengers on the Jessica Drew mission radioed back to the Mansion that they were bringing Hank Pym home but Wanda suggested that Hank could examine Vision and maybe fix him. But Vision rejected the idea and Wanda is at a loss for why he’s determined to overcome his robo-paralysis on his own.

I’m also a little confused why they didn’t call on Hank Pym sooner to examine tube Vision but then again that would have been super awkward for Wasp and Reed Richards, that hack, said Vision should have recovered quickly.

Speaking of super awkward, Hank and Wasp are alone together in the other Quinjet.

Hank is also baffled that Vision turned down his help. He repaired him once before! Remember? He got super tiny and had a fantastic voyage inside him? In Avengers #93?

Jan comments that she hasn’t heard Hank sound so confident in years and he confirms that devoting his time fully to SCIENCE and taking superheroing off the table as an option has done wonders for his emotional outlook.

He also reiterates that he never felt cut out for the superhero life. Aw, enjoy it while it lasts, bud.

And he thanks her for calling him Hank instead of “Dr. Pym” like she did at the hospital.

Wasp: “Oh... That. Well, when you flew out at my request to help save Jessica Drew’s life... after all we’d been through... the divorce and all... I’m afraid I slipped into my stuffy Avengers chairwoman voice. I thought it might make things easier, but it didn’t... For either of us. I’m sorry, Hank.”

Hank Pym: “That’s okay, Jan. I understand. Your ‘stuffy chairwoman voice,’ huh? Heh-heh. How often do you have to use that?”

Wasp: “Wellll... Most of the time the others will go along with ol’ ‘dingaling Jan’ -- but sometimes, I have to get tough. That never fails to grab their attention!”

Hank Pym: “No doubt! Once, I was the only Avenger who knew how tough you really were! I’m glad the others are learning.”

Wasp: “I guess that none of us are ever too old to learn, Hank.”

Feels like Hank is rewriting some things in his memories since Jan often had to diminish herself to make him feel better but then again it didn’t always work so maybe the idea is that he knew all along how strong she was?

Either way, nice to see these two interacting so amiably.

Also, I like that she’s able to be an effective leader while still being ‘dingaling Jan’ since it doesn’t change how smart and capable she is. And the contrast if she has to get serious only helps.

I think overall I like that her leadership style is so uniquely her and that when her character was retrofitted to operate outside of being ‘Hank Pym’s partner’ she still remained recognizably her.

We have a whopping several women on the Avengers at this time (glorious) and Wasp, She-Hulk, Scarlet Witch, and Captain Marvel all feel like different characters.

Since Vision declined Hank Pym’s help, Wasp drops him off back home in Central Indiana.

Once these two were husband and wife, friends and lovers. But they were very different people and, without meaning to, they hurt each other very much. Today, they have perhaps put a small bit of that hurt behind them. Today, they have again become friends.

Daaaaw. Friends.

Wasp returns to Avengers Mansion to discover there’s a full-on party going on. There’s even streamers and a Captain America who seems incredibly enthusiastic about streamers.

(In another fun bit, Monica knew about the party already because she flew ahead to the mansion before joining Wasp in the Quinjet after she dropped off Hank. And she was bursting to not tell Wasp what was going on as they landed.)

Wasp is even more surprised when she learns that the party is celebrating Hawkeye’s marriage.

Wasp: “Barton? You mean Hawkeye? Married?!?”

Hawkeye: “‘Fraid so, Jan! I’d like you to meet my bride... Mockingbird.”

Mockingbird: “How do you do?”

Wasp: “Oh... fine. You’ll have to excuse me. This is... quite a surprise.”

A reaction that Mockingbird says she’s getting used to because she’s seeing it from all of Hawkeye’s friends!

Hah!

Hawkeye asks Cap on the sly whether he made the right move, getting married, but Cap is very supportive, saying its the most responsible thing he’s ever done.

Hawkeye: “What?! Cap, you cut me to the quick! Haven’t I always acted in a mature, responsible manner?”

She-Hulk: “Look who’s talking... the man whose proudest achievement is the invention of the water-balloon arrow!”

Provided She-Hulk isn’t just making stuff up, there’s some serious off-screen shenanigans that we didn’t get to see, possibly involving Hawkeye shooting water balloons at She-Hulk all day.

But... CLINT. YOU INVENTED AN ANTI-GRAVITY ARROW!

Why am I the only one who remembers that?

Thor shows up at the party next, back from his own solo adventures, and offers his own congratulations to Hawkeye.

Mockingbird is undergoing some culture shock here, as she’s astounded that Hawkeye calls Thor “Goldilocks.” And when Thor turns his Thor charm on her, and blesses their wedding, she’s rendered briefly speechless.

Its fun that we get this side of her. I think she was similarly blown away when they met Cap on the subway.

But even though she was a SHIELD agent and then a freelance superhero, she doesn’t seem to have a lot of exposure to your Avengers types so Hawkeye pulling her into those social circles is a lot of fun.

She’s going to get used to it though. I know that she Avenges herself in the future.

Also, look at Thor’s flagon of mead. Holy shit. Its as big as his whole torso.

Jarvis is really dedicated!

Over in a quiet corner of the party, Wanda tries to convince Vision to let Hank Pym take a look at him but Vision dismisses the idea.

Vison: “Please, Wanda, let’s not spoil this happy occasion! Surprise parties are all too rare, and few of them are party to as many surprises as this one!”

And instead of explaining what he means, he turns his hologram off.

Well, okay.

AH HA HE WAS REPAIRED AND JUST DIDN’T MENTION

For reasons of surprise.

What a whimsical turn for the Vision.

Aw, that panel of them kissing and everyone cheering is sweet. That’s how I like to remember them. Not, err, later developments.

(I also like Mockingbird being confused whether or not he’s still a hologram because of his intangibility)

Everyone congratulates Vision for being bipedal again.

Vision: “It’s good to be moving, Jan. But my recovery shouldn’t come as that big of a surprise. As I told you a few days ago, it was just a matter of time before I isolated the cause of my body’s motor dysfunctions -- and initiated the proper repair systems.”

But he tosses some sweet cred to Starfox, for hooking up to an alien supercomputer. It’s like matchmaking but with networks.

The surprise of his surprise recovery pales compared to his next surprise, as he announces (without consulting Wanda at all, geez) that its imperative that she and him stay with the Avengers full-time.

All I’m saying is communication is important, Vizh.

And maybe you should have brought this up with Wasp too? She is the chairwoman and as Cap points out, the team is already pretty packed, especially with Hawkeye and Thor back.

Vision: “Yes, the ‘chairman’s privilege’ limit! But you’re not the leader now, Cap... the Wasp is! And she’ll just have to change that limit -- or the membership roster -- to include Wanda and myself! We will be needed in the upcoming emergency!”

Kinda dropping a lot of surprises on this surprise party, Vision! I don’t know if you really get the concept wholly? You’re not supposed to save up all the surprises for this one day.

Also, Vision’s speech bubbles have changed. They’re still rounded rectangles but they’re not yellow anymore and the font is a bit italicized. Hm. Wonder if that means anything.

Anyway, Vision announces that while he was a tube boy, he detected two major fluctuations of Earth’s electromagnetic fields by some “unknown energy of near-infinite power.”

He’s secretly been working with Reed Richards on this and neither of them have been able to track down what this nonsense is. But until this malevolent mystery is uncovered, he and Wanda as two of the more powerful reservists must obviously be active Avengers.

But how does he know its malevolent if he hasn’t been able to uncover what it is? Deductive reasoning and intuitive presentiment!

Pffffft.

I think this might be my favorite recent punchline from this book.

But Vision has more than just bad vibes to be given a frighten by this upcoming ominousness!

Vision: “The energy I detected goes beyond the limits of any known to man! The power flux showed on our screens for a mere fraction of a second, and then disappeared without a single trace. That concerns me... And it should concern all of us! If we cannot discover the source of this energy, there could be catastrophic consequences!”

And to show how seriously he’s taking this, he makes this horrifying face.

He looks like he’s trying to eat Wasp.

I do not care for this. Either the specific panel or the overall idea of someone eating Wasp.

Anyway, Vision and Scarlet Witch goes off to check the super advanced equipment he installed in the monitor room without asking anyone. He’s doing that a lot lately.

Wasp is both annoyed that he went over her head and impressed with his initiative in doing so.

But she has other matters to attend and asks Thor and Cap(tain America) head down for a private meeting with her.

And now the party is kind of over!

Yeah, you ruined it, Vision! You put too many surprises on the surprise party! You could have saved some for later!

Vision and Scarlet Witch went off to the monitor room. Wasp, Cap(tain America), and Thor went off to have an executive meeting. And Hawkeye and Mockingbird slipped away from their own party not long after that!

Leaving Captain Marvel, She-Hulk, Starfox, and Jarvis to stand around awkwardly wondering where the party went. They didn’t even cut the cake yet!

Dammit Vision!

Hawkeye snuck out to the garden behind Avengers Mansion that’s been there all along. And Mockingbird followed to see what’s bugging him.

Hawkeye: “I’ve always loved this spot. Great tree, isn’t it? Ya know, it’s not easy to get an apple tree to grow this big in the city!”

But Mockingbird sees through that and asks what’s really his beef.

Hawkeye: “Aw, it’s just that I can see another membership shuffle in the works!”

Mockingbird: “So?”

Hawkeye: “So, I’m the one most likely to get bounced!”

I like the range of Hawkeye emotions here.

Hawkeye says that since he has a life (marriage) outside the Avengers now, he doesn’t mind so much being cut from the team. But if they’re going to be facing the latest and greatest menace of all times, he wants to face it with them!

Mockingbird: “That was pretty profound... for a guy who’s supposed to be a butt-head!”

Hawkeye: “Well, thank you, Mrs. Butt-head!”

Aww.

This is a fun bit too.

Mockingbird asks if Hawkeye wants to go inside and get some cake but he shoots an apple from the tree and offers Mockingbird one.

Pretty slick, Clint.

Over at the monitor room, Vision is really into monitoring whatever is upcoming. Super into it. So Wanda has to ask a question.

Scarlet Witch: “Darling... Are you sure you’re all right?”

Vision: “What sort of question is that?”

Scarlet Witch: “You’ve been acting so peculiar lately!”

Vision: “Wanda, how do you expect me to act? I’ve just recovered from spending what seemed like an eternity in a life support tube, able to move about only as a holographic image! Before that, my body was possessed by the dying sorcerer, Necrodamus. And that was almost immediately after I’d gone through the agony of losing an arm. Thankfully, the Inhuman scientists of Attilan were able to restore my limb. But you must admit we’ve both been through a score of trails these past few months! And now, I’ve detected something which could be the biggest menace we’ve ever faced! All things considered, is it really so surprising that I’m acting this way?”

Huuuuuh. I mean, he has a point. That’s a lot of shit in a very short time frame to endure.

This could very reasonably be a reaction to it all.

That’s a very unnerving smile though.

Over at the not-secret but private just Wasp, Thor, and Cap(tain America) meeting, Wasp, Thor, and Cap(tain America) are meeting.

Well, really, its more that Thor is recapping the tale of Beta Ray Bill for the other two. But we, the readers, just get an editor’s caption telling us to read Walter Simonson’s Thor (and I don’t need to be told twice) and Thor summing up to the salient point that Donald Blake is gone forever and is definitely never going to come back multiple times.

What Cap takes from this is ‘hey i hope that means you’re back on the team then!’ which Thor affirms.

Thor: “Aye, Captain America! Some of my finest hours have been as an Avenger. It would be the greatest honor to continue my service in your company... if you will have me!

But Wasp isn’t going to dump Thor from the roster!

Problem being, what the heck is she going to do with the roster? She doesn’t want to dump anyone off it, she doesn’t want to tell Vision to eff off, but she doesn’t want to lead an unwieldy team either. Six is a good number of Avengers!

I love Wasp’s note paper where she’s scrawled various roster ideas, clearly getting more and more frustrated with the exercise.

Cap suggests that maybe a temporary expansion would be the best move, if there even is a menace!

He’s somewhat doubtful of Vision’s story but wouldn’t you know it, as soon as he says that, the priority alarm goes off because Vision has detected the Ominous Energy Readings again.... IN CENTRAL PARK!

And lest anyone doubt Vision this time, an enormous and blinding flash lights up the Manhattan skies.

Cap: “I... believe you, Vision.”

Hah.

The Avengers head for Central Park with devices that Vision has created that will help them trace the energy but he could have saved the time.

There’s a big obvious structure that wasn’t there before. Odds are pretty good that that’s the anomaly.

Hmmm... Y’know, that structure looks familiar. As if I’ve seen it somewhere... But wheeeeeeeeeerre. I guess its a secret to everyone.

The sudden appearance of a large structure right after a massive flash isn’t even the weirdest thing going on. As Reluctant Science Guy Starfox waves around the detecting device, he realizes that the Ominous energy isn’t coming from the giant structure. It seems to be coming from everywhere. But it dips as you get closer to the structure.

Starfox posits that the energy is being focused on the ring from another location.

Curiouser and curioserer.

The Avengers poke around some more. Hawkeye calls attention to an arch built into the wall of the structure. It’s just real interesting. It’s super, incredibly interesting. Plus, the air is nice in the arch.

And it’s an arch. It looks like it’d be a doorway or tunnel to the middle of the structure but it doesn’t go anywhere.

Huh.

How fascinating.

She-Hulk, Cap(tain America), Captain Marvel, Wasp, and Thor join Hawkeye in the arch and agree that it’s a pretty interesting arch.

Perhaps this arch was made for them.

As soon as they join Hawkeye in it, there’s another blinding flash of light and those Avengers vanish in a curl of smoke.

Wow.

I can’t believe Hawkeye, She-Hulk, Captains America and Marvel, Wasp and Thor are dead.

Huh. And Wasp was just complaining about having too many Avengers!

Everyone is appropriately shocked by this, especially Vision because there were no energy emissions coming from the thing so it should have been inert.

Scarlet Witch and Starfox wonder whether the missing Avengers have been teleported somewhere, into some other story... or destroyed.

But before they can investigate the structure for clues, or see if it’ll strike again?, the whole thing vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

The plus side is that it makes Starfox lean toward ‘teleported’ which still doesn’t answer where the Avengers have been taken or who would do it.

If it’s the Collector again, I swear!

Here we go... Follow @essential-avengers because I thought I had more time! Oh geez, I don’t know how I’m going to handle this... Also, like and reblog because I like to think I do good work.

#Avengers #Ominous Energy #the Wasp #Captain America #Captain Marvel #monica rambeau #the Vision #Scarlet Witch #Thor #She Hulk #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Starfox #Vision ruins a party but not how you'd think #Jarvis is the world's best butler #Everyone's shock and alarm that Hawkeye got married #frequent culture shock for Mockingbird #Essential Avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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bbyx · 4 years ago

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ripple effect - part nine

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry (y/n) walks to care of magical creatures, worried lines creasing her face.

You were planning on seeing Harry first thing this morning so he could explain how the fuck his name ended up in the Goblet. But Harry hadn’t shown his face at breakfast. You were a little disappointed, knowing the shoe prank would have cheered him up a slightly.

(y/n) had started getting very worried when Ron said he “didn’t give a rat's ass about where Harry was.” Hermione was nowhere to be found and all your other friends were too hungover to be of any help. You regretted never going to sleep, you and Draco had stolen some Wideye potion from Snape’s cabinet, but the potion made your mind feel foggy. On second thought, maybe that was just the hangover.

The fresh air doesn’t help much at all, the wind makes you dizzy and your eyes can’t seem to focus with all the light sweeping through your sunglasses. If it weren’t for Harry, you would have done the same as Cedric and Nick, who both didn’t bother to go to class today.

“Harry!” You croak, wincing at the pain growing in your head.

“(y/n)! Uh what’s with the sunglasses?” Harry says, glancing up quickly at the cloudy sky.

“I think it’s pretty self explanatory.” You say, inching the glasses down to show him your bloodshot eyes.

“Harry, what happened with the Goblet.” You say, your tone becoming more serious.

“ I’m not sure, somebody must have put my name in somehow. Moody thinks somebody’s trying to kill me again.” Harry sighs running his hand through his hair. “ And Ron's jealous, and half the bloody school hates me.” He looks so exasperated, you wish you could just take all his worries off his shoulders. You missed the happy boyish glint in his eyes.You grab his face in your hands.

“Hey, I don’t hate you.” You say softly, which finally brings a small smile to his lips.

Draco’s blood boils as he walks the grounds to Hagrid’s hut, seing (y/n) and Potter’s silhouettes. She’s resting her head on Harry’s shoulder and laughing at his stupid jokes. Draco knew that should be his shoulder. And to make matters worse she seems to only have eyes for that big Hufflepuff oaf. Finally (y/n) breaks free from Harry and joins the rest of the Slytherins. Draco motions for Crabbe and Goyle to shut up as he nears Potter.

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion, got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much longer. . . . Half the Triwizard champions have died . . . how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

Before Draco could pull anymore insults from his brilliant mind, Hagrid arrived carrying huge crates filled with those disgusting skrewts. The giant man explains that students will be paired up to take the skrewts on a walk. Draco takes a leash attached to the grey slug like thing and joins (y/n)’s side.

“Be my partner?” A voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.” You answer, sounding even raspier than before.

“Bad hangover huh?” Draco says as the creature starts venturing off.

“Hmm” Is all you managed to say back, your head hurting from all the thinking you’ve been doing about the Goblet mystery.

Walking the skrewts was a disaster, everytime one of their ends exploded it would send the skrewt, and the poor student walking it, flying forward a couple feets. Lavender Brown was constantly screeching because apparently her skrewt was “trying to kill” her.

Yeah I'm rooting for its success.

Draco wouldn’t even let you near the skrewt, holding it out as far away from you as he could.

“Why can’t I walk it? It’s just like a dog.”

“Dog?! Have you seen this thing? No, I'm not letting you near this death machine. It’s already burned you once...”

“You’re so annoying Dray.” You say playfully shoving his shoulder.

“(y/n) you can’t even walk straight yet.”

Just at the right moment his skrewt’s end blasted and sent him flying in the mud. You laugh so hard falling to the floor, bracing yourself for the next wave of pain.

“I’m dropping this class next year, I swear.” He grumbles, getting up and glaring at the creature.

You were mad, furious even at Draco for making those stupid Potter stinks badges. Draco was furious at you for jinxing most of them to say Malfoy stinks instead. The two of you weren’t speaking anymore, making the atmosphere with your Slytherin friends very awkward. You took some consolation in knowing that Millicent and Daphne had refused to wear the badges, but for the past week you had been spending most of your time with your brother’s friends or Harry and Hermione. To add fuel to the fire, Draco has gotten into a fight with Harry and jinxed Hermione’s teeth. It also didn’t help that Cedric was now followed by a group of girls everywhere he went, preventing the two of you from having a private conversation.

On your way to charms, Jeremy appears next to you, fixing his yellow tie.

“What do you want?” You say slightly angrier than you had meant to.

“Nothing. Um Cedric wanted me to give this to you.” Jeremy says, pulling out a small envelope from his robes.

“Oh thanks.” You say but he’s already ducked inside a classroom.

You rip open the envelope. It reads:

Picnic tomorrow?

Miss you,

Cedric.

P.S: there will be chocolate frogs.

(y/n)’s bad day had just gotten a great deal better.

You were waiting by the Black lake for Cedric, while everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade. It was a surprisingly nice day for early november, you weren’t cold in your hoodie but you weren't warm either. You spot, from across the grounds, Cedric clumsily balancing a huge basket in one hand and levitating a couple other objects with his wand. You can’t help but notice how dashing he makes the Hufflepuff uniform look. He sets down a checkered blanket on the ground and throws a couple pillows on top.

“Ta-da!” He says opening the basket, filled with warm butterbeers, little pastries and fruits.

“Ced, you’re too nice.” You say giving him a long hug.

“Wait, I'm not done,” He says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a chocolate frog. “As promised.”

“I brought you something too.” You say, ruffling through your bag and handing him a small pin with a gold butterfly. “In French culture, butterflies are supposed to bring good luck, and since the first task is coming up and-”

Cedric’s lips crash into yours. Warm. He tastes warm.He tastes like cinnamon, honey and ginger. He slides one hand in your hair and holds your waist firmly with the other. Finally, you break apart for air.

“I love it.” He whispers in your ear, grabbing the pin from your hand and securing it to his sweater. He’s wearing his usual lopsided grin.

“I’m glad.” You say, a huge smile spreading on your face.

The rest of the afternoon was one of the nicest you could remember. Cedric had brought bread for the ducks and you laying on his chest, finding shapes in the clouds while he played with a baby duckling. Suddenly he stops humming, waking you up from your dazed state. Cedric shifts, sitting up slightly.

“(y/n) what’s your wand core?”

“Veela hair, my grandmother’s. Why?”

“Just wondering if you had the same as Fleur. She mentioned it at the weighing of the wands.”

“What’s yours?” You say not wanting to stay on the subject of your breathtaking cousin much longer.

“Unicorn hair.” He says twirling his wand around. He stops. “So if I put your hair inside a wand it would work?” He wraps a strand of your hair around his wand. You ponder his question for a couple seconds.

“Probably, but it would be a weak wand. I don’t think I have a lot of Veela genes.” You say smiling as Cedric plays with your hair.

“You’re always underselling yourself, you know.” He chuckles before planting another kiss on your lips. Then an idea pops up in your head. Cedric looks confused when you suddenly get up. He catches your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Calm down Romeo, i’m getting flowers for your flower crown.”

“My flower crown?”

(y/n) comes back a little while later, holding dozens of brightly colored flowers. You sit down crossed legged and start knotting the stems together. Cedric puts his head in your lap.

“Are you nervous about the first task? It’s only a week away.” You say looking down at him.

“A little, but i’ve got this now.” He runs his fingers over the golden butterfly. You smile softly. After that, you and Cedric debate about Quidditch as he feeds you sweets because your hands are busy braiding the flowers together.

“Ta-daa!” You say holding up the finished product. The crown was full of daisies, daffodils and carnations.

“Can I put it on?” He says excitedly.

“Of course, I made it for you.” You answer, placing it on his head. He darts like a little kid towards the lake to gaze at his reflection.

“I’m never taking it off.” Cedric says quietly as you walk towards him. He turns and hugs you tightly. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“We should head back.” You say motioning to the group of girls, back from Hogsmeade, giggling behind a tree.

“Well shit.”

Cedric pulls his wand out of his pocket, mumbles a spell and the blankets that tidied up the blankets and basket. Wingardium leviosa he whispers, making the objects levitate. Then he flings you over his shoulder and makes a mad dash towards the castle.

“Ced! Aah put me down! I swear Cedric! CEDRIC AMOS DIGGORY put me down!” (y/n) says laughing wildly.

Draco was in a particularly bad mood at dinner. All anyone would talk about was stupid Diggory and his stupid flower crown. A number of girls had tried to replicate their own flower crowns but Draco knew exactly where the one on Diggory’s auburn head was from. He had worn multiple of those as a child and was always amazed at the skill of her nimble fingers.

Yeah, keep grinning you big oaf. Little do you know she’s made a dozen of those for me.

“Dragons?”

“Yes (y/n), try to keep up please.” Hermione says quickly, walking to her next class. “He says he saw dragons in the Forbidden forest. And Karkaroff used to be a death eater.”

“Oh. my. god.” You say, your brain piecing everything together.

“What?” Hermione says, glancing at her watch. “What? Please I haven’t got all day.”

“Hermione, remember at the World cup, when I rented that property to the ministry? Remember? Dragons! That’s what they’re using it for.”

You can practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “That makes perfect sense. How did we not figure that out.” She says shaking her head wistfully.

“Nevermind that, how is Harry going to fight a fucking dragon.” You say, racking your brain for spells. Another worry hits you. ”I have to warn Cedric.”

“That’s what Harry’s doing right now.”

“Cedric, do you have a plan? For the dragon, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but i’ve thought about this more.” Cedric says, kissing your neck softly. A smile tugs as your lips as you mumble “You’re so cheesy Ced.”

You and Cedric were in a small alcove near the potion classrooms. His warm tongue grazes your lower lip, making you unable to focus

“I’m serious, I can help you if you want.” He pulls you into a hug, resting his head on top of your hair.

“There is one way you can help.”

“How?”

“What’s your favourite type of dog?”

“What?” You say, incredulously.

“Just answer.”

“Labrador.”

“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate” Hermione says.

“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” says Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason. . . . Okay, try again. . . .”

(y/n) and Hermione were in an empty classroom, trying to teach Harry a summoning spell.

“You need to flick your wrist more.” You say, your nose buried in Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed.

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally got the hang of the Summoning spell.

“That’s better, Harry, yeah that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased.

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right . . .”

He raises his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!”

The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it. “Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” you say clapping. He blushes a little.

“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry says. “The Firebolt is going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds.”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come.”

“Harry, you’d better get some sleep . . . you’re gonna need it.” You say motioning at the window, where the sky was a moonless pitch black.

The next morning, you woke up in blind panic. Dragons. It seemed so much more daunting than it had yesterday. The sick feeling in your stomach only got worse when the champions were escorted out at breakfast. Everything seemed to be going so fast. Next thing you knew, you and Draco were walking towards the forbidden forest. (y/n) and Draco were on speaking term again because he had agreed to do her potions homework for the month.

“Go get a good spot Dee, i’ll join you soon.” You say before running forward to the champion’s tent.

When you enter, you see Krum looking sulkier than usual on a stool and Fleur fiddling with her hair nervously. You almost felt bad for her before she rolled her ice blue eyes at you. Harry was talking to Hermione and Cedric was pacing back and forth, his skin greener than usual.

“Hey,” You say touching his shoulder. He jumps slightly at your touch. “ Are you okay?”

“Of course!.” He says, but his voice wavers a little. “ What are you doing here?”

“Came to wish you good luck” You say tapping the little golden butterfly gleaming on his chest. “And give you this.” You say standing on your tiptoes and pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. He grabs your waist tightly, not wanting to let you go.

The sight of you and Cedric kissing makes Krum even surlier than before and Harry is now the one who looks green. At the same time, Ludo Bagman walks in.

“ Ah, young love.” He says, which makes you both pull away breathless. “I’m sorry to break this up but i’m going to have to ask you girls to please step out.” Ludo Bagman says to Hermione and (y/n), who was blushing furiously.

“Good luck Harry.” You say, squeezing his hand right before exiting the tent.

A/N: I’m gonna make a taglist for ripple effect so send me an ask to be added xx. ALSO this is my ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE gif he’s just so cute.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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a-third-attempt · 4 years ago

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Home

A/N: Presented on the occasion of @momochrome‘s birthday.

Inzee is an OC of @momochrome. Source (at her writing blog)

Warnings: Claustrophobia implied, angst with a happy ending. (3240 words)

* * *

“I need to tell you something.”

“Anything, angel.”

You’d known this was coming. He’d been out of sorts for days. Unusually quiet and slow to respond. Calling a rain check for date night. Even his quiet time tending the garden every morning didn’t seem to be bringing him the peace that it had before.

Today, Inzee was slumped over the kitchen table, gray-skinned head resting between two massive webbed hands. He wasn’t upset, you noted, the markings on the back of his head bore only the faintest bit of color. But his pointed ears seemed to tell a different story, drooping down. You sat down next to him and smiled patiently.

He sat with furrowed brow, collecting his thoughts, giving you plenty of time to look him over and be struck once again by how large he was. You had met other Eistirs over the last few years on Enphe, which is how you came to realize that Inzee wasn’t considered particularly muscular. Still, a lifetime of space work had kept him in shape, and what passed for lithe strength on this planet was positively enormous by Human standards. He stood well over two meters tall, with arms as thick around as your thighs and a body to match.

“I’m glad we decided to settle down.” He hesitated, his four eyes fixed on you, nervously watching for your reaction. “But I’ve got to fly again.”

“What do you mean?”

He grunted. “I’m just going stir-crazy from being grounded for this long. I haven’t sat around on Enphe for more than one orbit since I was a child.”

Like you, he’d gone to space as soon as he could, following that ephemeral string into the sky, hoping beyond hope that he would find where it led. That was where the similarities ended. Somehow, he seemed to enjoy it, which had always been baffling to you. Your experiences of space travel were spartan, weeks if not months of cramped quarters, bad food, and poor hygiene. When you were in Terran-charted space, you at least had a crew to keep you company. But most of your years of travels were spent far beyond it, in torturous solitude. Components were damaged with each jump, and the hours that you weren’t spending repairing the tin can were filled with tedious calculations to properly chart your course. That far out, the navigation systems were nearly useless. When they broke along with everything else after the nebula jump, you didn’t even bother to repair them.

“Do you not like it here?” You knew the answer, but you still didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“My sweetheart, you wound me.” He clutched his chest, and you flashed a faint smile. He seemed to be feeling a little better than when you’d first come out, at least. “I love it here. I think I’d love anywhere if you were there. Somehow I just need—” Suddenly his eyes drooped, too ashamed to look at you anymore. “I mean I thought I was just out there searching for you. But maybe I was looking for something else, too, or else this feeling should have gone away, right?”

You nodded slowly. It made sense. You might have been the talkative one, making friends everywhere you went, but he had always been more inclined to adventure. You worked well together, as soulmates should, quickly collecting a large group of like-minded friends all around the world. Soon your leisure time had been positively filled with friendly banter and silly games, and with the effortless travel afforded by Eistir teleporters, there was no shortage of sights to see. At first you had assumed that he was taking you to his favorite spots, but he confessed that most of the time he was visiting for the first time too. I’ve been all around the galaxy, he said, shaking his head, but I’d never known my own backyard.

That life of your dreams had turned into a lump in your throat. How long had he felt this way? He had leased his ship when you agreed to settle back onto his homeworld, when you both thought that your days of flying were behind you. Suddenly, those terrestrial travels seemed like a paltry replacement for extraplanetary flights he could no longer have. Why hadn’t he said anything? Did he not trust you?

No, no. That didn’t matter. He was telling you now. He trusted you now, and judging by the look on his face, he needed you now. You could worry about the past some other time.

You reached over to rub his shoulder, and ducked your head to meet his gaze. “Inzee, look at me. I love you.” He smiled, ears twitching. Every time. “You know how I feel about flying. But honestly, you’ve been a mess recently, and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy. So if you need to take a trip every once in a while, we can do that.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but his skin brightened a bit more, cupping your hand in his. “You’re really okay with it? I don’t know how much time I’ll need. I could be gone for a while.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Honestly, angel, I don’t know. I have some really dark memories of being in a ship. But you’ll be there this time, which will help.” He bumped his forehead against yours, one of his cute little gestures that never failed to charm. “Or at least, we can try. I mean, this has to work out somehow, right? We’re soulmates, for god’s sake,” you said, twanging at the string that bound the two of you.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled away, sighing. “Well, I would rather get my old ship back, if I can. That’ll probably take a while.” He looked you over with concern. He would never say that he didn’t believe you, but you both knew that there was more to be said. “Maybe I can start working on that, and you can think about it? Make sure you’re okay with me being gone for a while?”

“Being gone—?” He couldn’t possibly think that you would be staying home? “I’m going with you, you do know that, right?”

“What?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “No, I’m not going to ask you to go back on a ship again, you’ve made it plenty clear—”

A fire rose in your gut; you could hardly believe what you were hearing. “Listen, Inzee.” He snapped to attention at your sharp tone. “I dragged this tiny Human body halfway across the galaxy just to find you. And there isn’t a darn thing in it that could pry you out of my sight for a second.” He gulped, and then, much to your amusement, shivered. It made sense. He wouldn’t be used to hearing that voice in the daylight. You were tempted to push him further, but reluctantly waved the thought away. Plenty of time for that later. This was serious.

But he must have smelled your thoughts, because he completely failed at concealing his laughter. Shaking his head, he whispered, “Oh, what could I possibly have done to deserve you?”

You grinned. “Do you want an itemized list?”

* * *

It did, indeed, take a while. Days passed and then blurred together as the long series of infuriating telecoms and paper trails paraded on. The red tape brought out a side of Inzee that you had never seen before, not just tenacious but assertive. He navigated the Eistir bureaucracy with an efficiency and ruthlessness that was almost frightening. And, ultimately, effective. After an eternity of wrangling, he managed to wrest back control of his old ship from the rental agency.

On the morning that everything was official, he could hardly contain his excitement. He put a blindfold on you and stepped you through the teleporter, its buzzing sensation a long-familiar nuisance.

"Okay, take it off!”

As soon as the blindfold fell, you were immediately knocked breathless.

The two of you stood on a grated platform that ran along the rim of a gigantic circular room with vaulted ceilings. Sitting in the center you saw the characteristic green wireframe of a holographic starmap. It was massive, at least twice as big as any you had seen, and the room had clearly been sculpted around it; the projection equipment tucked into the arch of the ceiling, control panels on all three levels of the platform. The far side of the room was a window— a single curved sheet of glass that must have been at least two stories tall. At its edges, it faded into elegant yellow walls covered in vast black screens, woven together by veins of blue and purple crystals and a dizzying array of bright buttons. Eistir script flashed on a few of the screens, some projecting smaller holograms of their own. The room was silent, save the quiet whirring of the machinery and the occasional beeps of a droid buzzing overhead.

“Welcome aboard,” he said, his thick arms squeezing your side.

“This is your ship? It’s as big as our whole house!”

“No, I don’t, don’t think so.” His skin flushed blue. “I mean, the boy is, it’s probably, it’s not quite as—”

You hit him playfully on his side. “Jeez, you idiot! Why did you ever give this up?”

He cupped his hand around his ear, all eyes looking at the floor. “Well, I didn’t need it, anymore, once you found me, you know, and anyway, you didn’t seem so keen on flying— and I didn’t really give it up, I guess— we got it back, you see?”

You barely registered his stammered response, still taking in the grand scale of it all. “Oh, sweet heavens, I would have given the whole galaxy to fly on your ship.” His stories flooded back into your mind, and finally standing in the bright, open space, their reckless enthusiasm suddenly made sense. Of course you would love to fly if you got to fly in this beauty! This wasn’t a budget rocket slapped together to get you one or two jumps away. This was a ship made for adventure.

No, not quite, you remembered. It was, in fact, a science ship, designed for acquiring and testing specimens. You whipped your head around, looking for where the experiments might be run. But as far as you could tell, everything you saw looked like navigational equipment. “Where do you keep your collections?”

His markings glowed, intense with regret. Oh. Right. Immediately you embraced him, resting your head on his cool skin. “I’m sorry.”

The ship had been rented out, and the new astronauts would probably have collections of their own, so his had to be dealt with. He figured the data would be useful to someone, so he spent many long afternoons cataloguing everything; giving the local scientists anything they would take, and carefully documenting the rest. You had begged him to just bring them home and be done with it, but he insisted that he didn’t have the equipment to store them. He was so torn up about it, but there was nothing to be done.

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly. He wrapped you up in his arms and you savored his thick scent. “There’s a collections room.”

“There’s a what?” you demanded, jerking your head back. You were so taken aback, you’d forgotten that you were supposed to be soothing him. He tilted his head, confused.

“A… collections room? Uh, to keep everything organized?”

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes spun around the chamber. “There’s more?”

Finally understanding, he chuckled. “Ah. Yes, my love. Come on, I can give you the tour.”

“Holy shit.”

Your mind was reeling as you followed his lead along the grated platform. He turned abruptly and the wall parted, revealing a short corridor, not quite wide enough for both of you to fit at once. He took your hand in his and you walked through to the other end, where a similar portal opened into a new room.

And when he stepped in, it was Inzee’s turn to gasp.

“Impossible…”

You rubbed your eyes as you adjusted to the light. This room was admittedly less grandiose than the navigation room, although still beautiful in its own way. It was smaller, but possibly even taller, with locker-like doors of all sizes lining the walls. A mess of Eistir script was scrawled on most of them, although it had clearly been rubbed off several of the larger doors at your eye level, replaced with more careful, steady handwriting. It wasn’t much to look at, you thought, but your partner was shell-shocked.

“What is it, angel?”

“They couldn’t have left all of it.” He started pacing around the room, sliding his hands across the glyphed doors. His body trembled as he pressed on one and it hissed open, letting loose a puff of orange steam as a shelf slid out. “Sweet oceans, they did.” He pressed frantically on the doors, drawers and tanks emerging.

“I can’t believe it.” He jumped back to you and swept you off your feet, practically lifting you up in the air. “It’s all here!”

He was still shaking as he squeezed you. You grinned like an idiot to see him so happy. “I thought you cleared it out!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He returned an embarrassed smile. “I made all the records and put a note in the system asking them to remove it. Maybe a bit rude, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually throw it away.”

You finally gave in to your curiosity and pressed a door open. The tray that emerged was dense with easily a hundred pencil-thin glass tubes. Some of them were empty, it looked like, while others were foggy and bore subtle colors. “Atmosphere samples,” he crooned, sliding one along the webbing between his fingers. “From the Kredar supersystem. A lot of gas giants.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is each one a different planet?”

He laughed. “There’s a couple repeats, probably.” The words hit you like a truck. Nearly a hundred planets behind this one door. In a room filled with doors, wall to wall, floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe they left it all behind.”

You giggled, despite yourself. “You left it all behind.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m just teasing, angel,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to make you tell me about every one.”

“Good thing I’ve already taken notes.” One of his eyelids closed clumsily, and you stifled another giggle. You’d been trying to teach him how to wink, and he still needed a bit of practice.

You slid over one of the ladders attached to the walls and climbed up a few rungs. “Hmm, what’s iiiiiin…” you waved your hand around a section of the doors. “this one?” You slapped one of the larger squares. It opened cleanly, with none of the fanfare of the others, and a glass box rolled out, filled to the brim with—

Lego?

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Inzee clutched his sides as he bowled over laughing, nearly falling on the floor. “Oh no! Don’t tell me you have those evil buggers too!”

You grabbed a handful of bricks. They were a little different than you were used to, lacking the familiar branding, some a bit misshapen. And they were clearly not all made from plastic. Some were metallic, others almost leathery. Throwing them back in the box, you glared at your partner, still wheezing on the ground below you. “What are you on about?”

He was gasping too hard to speak. You shook your head and hopped off the ladder, looking him in the eye as you shook him gently. You tried to appear unamused, but you weren’t sure if you were succeeding— it was adorable to see him like this, and his smile was infectious.

Eventually he calmed himself down enough to explain. “Nearly every race that we have made contact with has invented some version of those things. Not too hard to believe, I suppose, a toy for curious children that gets replicated across worlds.” He shook his head, another chortle busting through. “But you would think that someone would have found a way to make them that doesn’t hurt like hell when you step on them.”

“I cannot believe that the common thread uniting civilizations across the galaxy is fucking Lego.”

“Come on, that’s not the common thread. We all do language, water treatment, fusion, that kind of stuff.” Inzee snorted. “But yes, it is a incredible coincidence.”

“Oh, that gives me an idea. We should swing by Earth!” You frowned, one complication of that plan springing quickly to mind. “Well, it is pretty far away, we’d have to fly for a while. But you don’t already have Human-Lego, right? And I’m sure there’s other collections we could fill out, too.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful!” His markings swelled with blue, and he spread his arms wide in deference. “I would be honored to visit your homeworld.”

“How soon can we start?”

His eyes were so bright, you swore you could see by them. “What’s gotten into you, my love? Just a few days ago I thought you were ready to call off the whole thing entirely.”

“It’s your ship, Inzee. There’s so much light and space. I can breathe in here.” As if to demonstrate, you loudly inhaled through your nose. He shot you a bemused glance, and you stuck out your tongue. “Oh god, you should have seen the tin can I flew here in. If I could have had this, everything would have been better, I’m sure of it. This ship, your ship, it’s amazing.”

He had been soaking in your words with an awkward sort of pride, as if you had been praising him rather than his ship. Perhaps you had been. But at the end, his expression suddenly softened, and his skin glowed a bright red. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

“No, my love. You are amazing.” Towering over you, he leaned down to join his eager lips with yours. His hearts pounded blood through his body, and you felt them as if they were your own, the rhythm of the kiss synching to his hypnotic pulse. You nursed it, squeezing him as you deepened it, his quickening breath sending tingles up your spine.

Neither able nor willing to control yourself, you stepped forward, urging him toward the wall. He gave in to your demand just as instinctively, shrinking back further and further until you slammed him against the doors, pinning him down. He could surely have broken out had he wanted, but the blue heat radiating from his skin told you he had no such desire. This was a man bent on fulfilling your fantasies— or, rather, a creature, an Eistir— any interest you had in the details vanished completely as his silky hands slipped under your shirt, the light touch of his webbing teasing soft moans from your chest.

In retaliation, you slid your tongue into the fork of his, but when he tried to lean in, you pulled away completely. You smirked wickedly at his quiet whines, lifting his chin up with one finger and setting your gaze into his eyes. “Show me to the captain’s quarters, angel.”

#alien #alien boyfriend #exophilia #sci fi #fluff #speculative fiction #7d #18h #claustrophobia implied #angst implied #fiction #momochrome #demomonic murmurs #birthday #the writing process for this was very weird #some interesting challenges here #this probably wins for the story i've written #that involved the most brainstorming for the least change to my initial idea #still lots of fun

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mettaminerals · 3 years ago

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Life Healing Energy With Crystals

For quite a long time, many individuals Healing Crystals in adornments for the shear excellence of them. Gem Healing is considered by numerous a pseudo logical elective medication strategy that utilizes stones and crystals for healing yet is an antiquated practice that traces all the way back to something like 6,000 years. The Romans utilized crystals as charms to advance great wellbeing and accommodate insurance in fight. Roman and Greek specialists blended crystals in with plant removes, warmed them, and utilized restoratively. Antiquated Egyptians accepted these stones had the ability to reestablish wellbeing, and would likewise cover their dead with a quartz gem, which they accepted would direct their adored one securely to existence in the wake of death. Chinese utilized them to advance healing, edification, and fascination of wants.

Today, healers, Shamans, and clerics use crystals for their particular healing properties. I generally had an interest with stones and crystals yet that was the extent that it at any point went, until I was acquainted with crystals and their healing capacity at a Mind, Body, and Spirit Festival. Since crystals vibrate with the energy of the earth, they can assist you with adjusting your body to the Earth's energy. With these crystals, presently you as well, may vibrate at the most noteworthy energy - Earth Energy! This is the place where the healing starts. Utilizing crystals, and tuning yourself into their energy, you are then clearing blockages inside you which will upgrade your own normal healing forces. Most don't understand, yet our bodies were intended to act naturally adjusting and normally mend themselves. In any case, as life occurs, we here and there neglect to pause and deal with ourselves so frequently, that our bodies escape sync with that healing interaction, eventually making blockages in our physical and mental bodies.

Any blockages inside your life power is the thing that causes throbs, torments, and even illness to show in the actual body. It's therefore, I presently use crystals consistently for strength in a specific region in my life, for healing that is required that day, for individual reflection and clearness, or for use in my Reiki practice to incite love and light while cleaning and clearing Chakras. Reiki, as only one elective healing methodology, in it's most straightforward interpretation is Universal Life Force. It is the act of diverting the general life energy in a specific example to mend and fit the psychological and actual body and every one of our Chakras, which gets, absorbs, and communicates physical, passionate, and profound energy coursing through our bodies. There is a clearing method I use, just as an alternate explicit precious stone for each Chakra to clear any blockages around there. This makes room for life power energy to stream to you and through you to keep the psyche, body, and soul in it's heavenly condition of amazing wellbeing. In the event that we keep our brain, body, and soul vibrating on a high recurrence of affection and healing energy, we don't permit throbs, agonies, and infection to show and get comfortable the actual body.

This is only a short outline on Chakra healing with crystals. Every precious stone has its own novel healing property and a particular Chakra it reverberates with because of its tone. Our first Chakra, being the Root Chakra, manages establishing, and basically vibrates with and can be mended utilizing Red, Brown, or Black Crystals like Red Garnet, Hematite and Black Tourmaline. Our second Chakra, the Sacral Chakra, managing the mid-region and joy focuses, can mostly be fit with Orange Crystals, such Carnelian, Amber, and Orange Calcite. The Third Chakra, being the Solar Plexus Chakra, managing the Digestive System and individual force, reverberate with and can be mended with Yellow Crystals like Yellow Citrine, and Sunstone. The Fourth Chakra, the Heart Chakra, manages the Heart, Lungs, and Love. The Heart Chakra vibrates in a healing way with all Green or Pink crystals like Rose Quartz, Jade, or Green Aventurine. The fifth Chakra, the Throat Chakra, manages conveying, and reverberates with Blue Crystals like Blue Agate, Sodalite, or Sapphire. The 6th Chakra, the Third Eye Chakra, managing instinct and knowing, vibrates on a healing level with Violet Crystals like Amethyst, Lolite, and Flourite. The seventh Chakra, the Crown Chakra, managing the Central Nervous System and the Divine, resounds best with White or Purple Crystals like Selenite, Clear Quartz, or Amethyst.

I've actually been utilizing Crystals for my own healing for a lot, yet since starting the utilization of crystals for healing, I've had a couple of remarkable examples of overcoming adversity, some of which are important to me. The primary example of overcoming adversity is my better half who had rotator sleeve medical procedure. This, based on what I'm told by many individuals, is the most over the top agonizing a medical procedure you can have. This is most certainly an issue with a long healing time as he's just acquired around 3/4 of his movement back around there without torment so far over the most recent 5 months. At first, I would Reiki him while we were sitting and unwinding and the finish of every day. Then, at that point I brought a Carnelian ball into the image and what he disclosed to me while utilizing the healing ball was quite astonishing. The Carnelian ball brought him stunning warmth, practically like a hot stone wherever it contacted him assisting with unwinding and recuperate the muscles that had been cut off and controlled during a medical procedure, alleviating the aggravation actually like a hot stone back rub.

The second example of overcoming adversity is likewise precious to me as it has to do with my sister. My sister Deneen has Lupus, which is basically a provocative sickness where your body's resistant framework assaults its own tissue and organs. From what I hear and own her going, it is an extremely excruciating sickness and specialists simply toss various meds at it as an experimentation thing until they discover a medication that works. All things considered, she's as yet in a phase of her infection of not knowing what medicine works in aiding the aggravation which she bears each day. I've done Reiki healing on her various occasions in the past which has facilitated the aggravation barely enough to bring some relief, yet it wasn't until I begun Crystal Healing Therapy, that she's had supported help from the aggravation. I utilized different various Crystals to Cleanse and Clear her Chakra's, yet I additionally requested that she wear a Reiki Charged Hematite wristband for a couple of hours daily. It's been half a month and she's accounted for not having had a truly downright terrible day since.

My third example of overcoming adversity in only a couple of brief weeks has to do with somebody that has degenerative plate sickness which is torment in the lower back or neck because of a compromised circle in the spine. While there is a marginally hereditary reason to this infection, it's fundamentally brought about by normal mileage or some kind of injury to the body. With this kind of illness, there is ordinarily a steady, generally a slight benchmark torment. It likewise includes gentle to serious scenes of back or neck torment that by and large could endure anyplace from a couple of days to a couple of months and can be weakening during that time, prior to getting the individual once again to what they think about their standard in the aggravation division. Rachael had been languishing over numerous years with degenerative circle sickness when she came to me. I assisted her with the healing energy of Reiki and a Carnelian ball, which I used to treat lower back issues. After those two things, I utilized Hematite on her which, for her purposes, resembled the Belle of the Ball. When the Hematite stones connected with the skin on her lower back, she announced a dissolving of the aggravation very quickly and remained however long the Hematite remained on her back. I then, at that point educated her to proceed with this training all alone while she was not with me and to purge the Hematite with a Selenite stone so the entirety of the cynicism and poisons the Hematite assimilated from her, would be cleared prior to returning them to her lower back once more.

So regardless of the reported healing gem utilization of a considerable lot of our progenitors, some actually ruin the utilization of these stones alongside different types of elective medication. There are very few examinations to demonstrate or even refute the force of elective types of medications, for example, gem healing, needle therapy, Reiki, or even yoga as healing for the psyche, body and soul. This doesn't imply that these healing practices aren't viable. It simply implies that cash isn't being spent on what some consider to be "New Age" healing; that equivalent healing therapy that is really healing ancient. Likewise, regardless of the absence of exploration for these kinds of healing techniques, still around 33% of Americans utilize these or different types of elective medication. It is not necessarily the case that Crystal Healing Therapy is a fix all. You should in any case look for the assistance and clinical consideration from your PCPs, yet as you can see from these three totally different issues and infections from the above cases, Crystal Healing Stones really serve to enhance all endeavors of healing; regardless of whether you have enthusiastic injuries, explicit actual ailment, or basically need to build your energy levels, you can utilize crystals to vibrate with similar frequencies of earths energy and once again initiate your body's own personal healing capacities!

https://www.mettaminerals.com/

#Healing Crystals

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