#fell down into a deep pit of weird nostalgia

[ayjada]

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[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius finally opens up to James Potter, and he realizes a lot of things. He has decided he will go the yule ball, but the question is: with whom?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 3

Sirius kept chewing his first bite for a little longer than he was supposed to, because Remus had left the Great Hall looking apprehensive, and gruesome. He sighed through his breakfast, waiting for the day to get by. He was pushing down all the unnecessary thoughts and emotions because he didn’t want to expect anything from anyone, especially how the last night had turned out.

He had woken up with a better feeling—if he had to be honest with himself—because Remus had finally not just smiled at him but hugged him with genuine earnest and he had held him until Sirius was done crying. The memory was painfully sweet in his head. Nevertheless, he was slightly hopeful than yesterday. Remus had always tried to bring the best out of him. The tug of war in his brain about his friendship and relationship with Remus was easing out in his mind, while also clenching his heart. He took another bite of his porridge, and thought that he should stop worrying about normalcy. He realized that wanting normal with this desperation was going to make him fall in the pits of agitation. He was not able to deal with another heartache. For once, he wanted to give his heart a break.

He gulped down his bite, and he decided he was going to the same with his desires and dreams. He was going to be grateful of the things he had in life; Good friends, miles away from his abusive parents, good education, and especially, his magic. He was himself because he knew how to kindle fire by the swipe of his fingers, he could wave his wand and conjure blue stardust while walking alone in the forest, and he could conjure a patronus to keep the sadness away for a while.

His thinking cycle came to a halt when James and Peter rushed to the hall, and haphazardly began swallowing their breakfast. Sirius was so captured seeing them not uttering a word and gulping down their teas and milk in one breath.

“Merlin, Pads—could have told us—“ James was managing to breathe while munching his toasts, debauching all the manners and etiquettes of eating by spraying the breadcrumbs everywhere on the table.

“Wow, Prongs, you really know how to eat.” Sirius laughed amusingly. Both of the Marauders glared at him. And once they were done, James said that they were already five minutes late for Transfiguration. This time Sirius didn’t think of manners at all, and stumbled out his seat as the three of them raced to the classroom. The air whooshed through them as they pushed through the crowd of students and teachers who shouted things like ‘Hey! Watch it!’ and ‘5 points from Gryffindor!’

The air smelled of nostalgia as Sirius felt the adrenaline in his blood and giddiness in his stomach. The three of them were running like they used to when Filch would catch them and they would hide in the broom cupboards for hours until the course were clear, and then they would laugh like maniacs. It felt all the same to Sirius when they reached the classroom, and he was getting breathless in the most satisfying way. The doors opened, stealing everyone’s attention. Mcgonacall had her usual glare, and Sirius spotted Remus sitting with Lily, his face looked scarlet which made Sirius feel the same heating flush beneath his cheeks and neck.

“Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew, why is it always you three to be late in my class?” There was something different about Mcgonacall as her gaze is fixed at Sirius. He could swore that there was a hint of smile playing on her lips. She ordered them to take seats, and Peter sat with Mary while James with Sirius. The both of them had to keep hands on their mouths to suppress the bubbling laughter. James gave him a playful nudge, his eyes were whispering something meaningful, and Sirius felt a gush of affection for him.

The day went by with Double Transfiguration with the Slytherins, Charms with Ravenclaws, and Double History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. James and Sirius were walking to the common room to put their books and notes and then return to the dinner with the rest of Marauders.

“So, Padfoot…” James smirked at him, “I have an unbelievable news to share with you.”

“Have you finally learn not to make a fool of yourself?” Sirius got a harsh fling of James’ arm around his shoulder that he staggered in his pace, almost collapsing on the floor but James held him firmly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James’ voice was soaked with concern, “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t know I was that harsh.”

“No, it was not harsh.” Sirius managed to say but the other didn’t seem convinced. He was getting some serious brain-fogs from the past few days, and he hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Madam Pomfrey.

“Then what was that, Sirius? What is going on? Are you not well?” Those were so many questions for Sirius to answer. He didn’t want to disrupt his day which was finally going better for the first time in forever. However with James’ big hazel eyes were staring at him like that as if they were saying hundreds of things to him he felt the urge to tell him everything—by everything meant everything.

And then they didn’t return for dinner, they were in their dorm alone with no interruption. Sirius told him how frequently he had been experiencing panic attacks, and how much tired he felt, like always, how he felt like his bones were feeble, and his muscles were aching, how he was also experiencing constant brain-fogs. And then, he also told him how he was dealing with emotional pain the most, how constantly he was thinking and trying to commit act of self-harm, and how much he was thinking how he had let the Marauders down. James listened him very carefully with full attention, nodded in the right places and shushed him when Sirius talked about how much he missed Remus. He was struggling to get louder because his voice was not cooperating with him. He was gushing out all of the emotions which were buried in the depths of him. He cried at some parts but he was calm because James’ hand was there squeezing his arm, and rubbing his back. When they were done, they fell into comfortable silence, and Sirius felt as light as a feather.

“So what was the good news?” Sirius said to break the silence.

“Uh…” James smiled weakly at him, “I asked Evans to go with to the ball as my date and she said yes.”

Sirius smiled at him genuinely, “I’m happy for you, Prongs.” He hit him with a playful punch but James didn’t respond too much. He looked sad, and it was awkward. Sirius never wanted that. They fell into another round of silence before he felt two arms wrapped from his behind, tugging there. Sirius put his hands on James’, sitting under the cloud of melancholy.

“I’m sorry, Padfoot. You were keeping a lot inside of you. I don’t like when you do that.” Sirius smiled warmly at his mildly aggressive voice, “I am your brother, and you are supposed to tell me that. And all of that. Everything, buddy. I love you, you know that right?”

“There is no reason to be a sap, Potter.” Sirius elbowed him, “But yeah, and I love you, too. Always have and always will.”

“Look, who’s a bigger sap now.”

“Okay, Evans said yes—“ Sirius pulled away to face him, but he was cut off by James in mid-sentence.

“For the ball. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

James didn’t smile. There was still something despondent about him. After a brief silence, he said, “Pads, this may sound a little weird but hear me out…” Sirius nodded, “You should ask Moony for tomorrow.”

“Oh no, no, no, no,”

“Why!?” James whined.

“’Why’? What do you mean ‘why’? Out of all people, you should not be the one to say that.”

“No, Padfoot, I should be the person to say that! You told me how he encouraged to go to the ball. I mean, why would he? Either he is trying to be your mom and asking you to have fun or he is giving signals for you to ask him to be your date for the ball!”

“Considering Remus, he was definitely being a mother-hen.” 

“Think about it, Moony doesn’t easily like someone. He never dated anyone except you because you are the one he fell in love with, you tosser!

That’s when the door swung open, revealing Remus and Peter which confused looks. Sirius felt like his heart was in his throat.

“Thought we’d find you guys here.” Peter said, throwing his satchel on his bed, “Why did you miss dinner?”

“Oh, we completely lost track of time.” Sirius said successfully because the room had started to feel small with Remus’ presence, “We should go to the kitchen, Prongs.” He was hoping he could just skip the anxiety and continue his chance of talking out with James more. He was talking after ages, and it felt lighter and easy. Suddenly, he was very grateful for having James Potter in his life.

“Oh, you know what, you stay here. Wormy and I will bring food for you.” James piped up with his stupid grin, and Sirius began to have second thoughts on being grateful of James.

“What!?” Peter retorted, “But I just came back!”

“And you could come back again, my best friend Wormy!” Sirius scowled at James who in returned gave him a thumbs-up, gesturing to talk to Remus who was putting down his books in on his nightstand. Soon, the whiny Peter and an overly-smart James were out of the dorm, leaving him and Remus alone.

Sirius was fidgeting with his fingers anxiously, gazing at Remus’ back.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Sirius thought he was completely frozen. Remus turned to face him, smiling small at him.

“Yeah…” Sirius let out a breathless chuckle, “I was just…”

Awkward silence.

“Remus, I wanted to ask you something and if you don’t think the same way, I would completely understand.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Remus nodded at him. He took a deep breath and finally the words were out, “Will you go to the ball with me as my date?”

Extremely awkward silence. Remus was opening and closing his mouth to say something but no words were audible enough as an answer to Sirius. That’s because he doesn’t have any answer, Sirius thought to himself.

“Sirius…” Remus finally said, “I can’t.”

It wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t expecting this, but it still hurt him like a dagger shot right into his heart.

“I mean…” Remus continued, scratching the back on his head or pulling his sleeve, “it’s not like I don’t want to, because I do…A lot, actually…”

His voice was turning croaky, and Sirius was able to see that it was not easy for Remus either.

“But, I already have a date.” This time it hurt more than earlier. Sirius wanted to laugh, and he did. Remus froze, looking dumbfounded. It was a strange thing that hurting not always accompany the act of shedding tears. Sirius was actually laughing at himself that he was a fool to believe, like actually believe.

“Of course, of course,” Sirius wiped the tears in the corner of his eyes, “Of course, you have a date. How can you not?” He was shaking his head, still unable to control his laugh. It was a very wrong judgment.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 4 coming soon!

[erin-bo-berin]

Hope (Part 1)

I’m back (back again) with more Spencer fics. Shocker, right? Anyway, this is a two parter since I was afraid writing it all as one would be way, way too long. This mainly takes place during the prison Reid arc and is mostly similar to the actual storyline although I changed a few details. Hope you enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut, of course)

Word Count: 3,470

Read Part 2 called Faith here

The air was thick with anticipation; the tense, quiet atmosphere of the room making you even more anxious than you already were.

The toddler in your arms squirms and whines, clearly bored and unaware of the situation at hand. Shifting nervously, you tried to keep the memories that are threatening to flood your mind, at bay. It’s amazing how such a nondescript location could fill you with such a sense of nostalgia. Nonetheless, they were there. You stopped trying to resist them, hoping for a distraction from the current waiting. The memories flooded forward in your mind, your own personal movie playing in your head as you tuned out the world around you.

•

It all began nearly 3 years ago.

Your friend Emily had needed you to stop by and drop off a sweater she’d left at your place that week after a successful girls night in. Emily, being the unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you joked that she was your boss too. She was just a naturally born leader—mind the cliché—and her boss persona never seemed to switch off, even in her private life.

“I feel weird coming all the way up here just to bring you a sweater,” you chuckle, handing it to her over her desk.

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome to pop in here. Besides you visit so much I’m starting to think security is gonna print you your own visitor’s badge just to keep you out of the lobby.”

“Ha ha,” you roll your eyes, hiding a grin.

It was no secret that you’d met Emily at her worksite before, but it was always downstairs. This was actually the first time you had visited the BAU, or seen her office for that matter.

“Nice office by the way,” you commented, glancing around, “Kinda bare though. Don’t you think it would look nice with some-”

“Okay,” Emily stood up, walking around her desk, “I don’t have to be a profiler to know that you’re getting ready to suggest a way to redecorate my office.”

“What can I say? It’s the interior designer in me,” you grinned, proud of your passion for design.

“I’ve got to get back to work, but we’re still on for dinner Friday right?”

“You bet.”

You turned to walk out of the doorway and collided right into someone, paper flying everywhere.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, bending down immediately to pick up and straighten the mess.

“Spence, I want you to meet my best friend, Y/N,” Emily called from behind you.

You knew her well enough that you could hear a smile in her voice, her biggest indicator that she was trying hard not to laugh. You looked up and saw a male around your age squat to help retrieve the papers that were clearly in his hand only moments before.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Er, bump into you, technically.”

He looked up, pushing his hair back from his eyes before holding out a hand. The brown curls immediately fell back toward his forehead as if he’d never touched them and warm eyes crinkled as he smiled. You faintly remembered shaking his hand, most likely dazzled by his attractive smile, one that lit his entire face. What you do remember is Emily calling your name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

You realized you’d held on to his hand for just a moment too long before you jerked it away, your cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

“I said this is Dr. Spencer Reid, one of my team members.”

“Oh yeah, the one with a photographic memory?” You weren’t a stranger to Emily’s team even though you’d only heard about them and never actually met them.

“Eidetic, actually,” Spencer corrected you.

Once again you felt your cheeks heat. You weren’t normally this flustered around new people and you weren’t entirely sure why you were right now.

“Right. Sorry. I was just going. Nice to meet you and sorry again about the mess.”

You handed him the papers you’d picked up before sliding past him and out the door towards the exit. You hadn’t realized at the time what that chance encounter had started.

-

It wasn’t long after that when your visits to the BAU became much more frequent. You were starting to believe security did have your own visitor’s badge reserved for you. If she was suspicious of your actions, Emily didn’t say anything.

After your literal bump into Dr. Reid you felt a pull, something you couldn’t explain. Other than the fact that of course he was attractive. But you’d convinced yourself the first handful of times that you were simply there to see your friend.

You began to surprise her at work with lunch or her favorite latte from Starbucks, sometimes even creating excuses to go see her. One time you even purposely left your wallet in her office just so you had a reason to return the next day.

By that point you had met all of her team and would say hi, exchange a few hugs and quick words with them every time you dropped by. But when it came to Spencer...well let’s just say your words happened to be more loose and flirty. You couldn’t exactly read him though, his witty banter was just a trait of his.

Like a whirlwind, things began happening between the two of you. A simple kiss became fooling around which turned into sex. He didn’t have time for a relationship and wasn’t sure he even wanted one. You didn’t blame him, not sure yourself if you could even have a relationship with someone that had such a demanding job. The hookups were almost always sporadically; whenever he had time, whenever he was home, whenever you had a moment to breathe between clients. Sometimes you even blew off plans with Emily. Which is what happened that particular night.

The team had just gotten back into town after a case and she’d texted, questioning if you wanted to meet up for a late dinner. You had been about to answer her when an additional text came in.

My place?

You didn’t even have to glance at the sender to know it was Spencer. According to Emily, they’d literally just landed and for him to contact you so quickly, you knew it had to be a bad one. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that some of your booty calls were to help him forget things even if for just a little bit.

It had been a while this time, more than a month since you were last in his company and you couldn’t lie, you had needs yourself. You shot off a quick apology text to Emily that you were too tired and already in bed before you grabbed your keys and headed for the door.

You could feel the anticipation growing internally as you climbed the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. It had been more than 30 days since you felt his lips on your skin, since your fingers tangled in his curls, since he completely wrecked you and practically made you see stars.

Your knock was answered within seconds. You hardly had time to register his presence before he had pulled you in and pressed you against the closed door, his mouth hot on yours. His lips moved against yours, his hands on your hips pulling you into him. He wasn’t normally so rough, but maybe it’d been an agonizingly long time for him too.

“Feisty aren’t we?” you teased as his lips trailed your jaw.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled, pressing his hips into yours causing the words to die your throat.

You had a brief thought that it must’ve been about a rough case but it instantly vanished the moment his hand was down your pants. Your fingers fumbled with his tie although you could barely focus on the task as you felt yourself melt under his touch. His fingers grazed over your underwear and a shaky moan parted your lips. It was almost embarrassing how desperate you were for him at the moment. You could feel your pounding core only intensify when he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and attaching his lips to your throat.

“I want to fuck you against this door,” Spencer mumbled against your skin.

You momentarily felt your breath leave you. It wasn’t normal for him to talk like this, but it was sexy as hell and you couldn’t think of a better idea than having him take you right here and now.

Your answer was a groan of approval before you connected your lips to his, biting on his bottom lip. You felt a thrill of satisfaction when the action elicited a groan from him, your hands busy unfastening his pants and pushing them down his hips.

Clothes were haphazardly discarded in what could’ve only been a few minutes but felt like an eternity to you when all you wanted was him inside of you.

“Oh god, Spencer.” Your ragged moan made your words slur when he was finally inside of you.

You weren’t sure how it was possible but it was even better than you remembered. Your lips traveled up his jaw, teeth brushing his earlobe as you begged for more.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” His jaw tightened, eyes closed as his thrusts sent him deeper within you. If you thought he’d driven you wild before, then that was nothing in comparison to this.

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on it as the heat began to form in the pit of your stomach. You could tell his own orgasm was fast approaching, his tell being the string of cuss words that would always unintentionally fall from his lips, too caught up in bliss to realize what he was saying.

His hand ran up your stomach to your breast before closing it over the mound, massaging it, thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipple. The contact sent a bolt of electricity all the way down south. Your legs tightened around his waist trying to pull him as deep as possible.

“Spence,” the nickname fell off your lips both accidentally and repeatedly, your high building so painfully slow.

His own came crashing down over him, breaking him as easy as glass. Sweat had dampened his hairline, a few tiny curls sticking to it, eyes closed as his face twisted in the pleasure of the moment, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip to keep from being so loud he’d disturb his neighbors.

Your hand snaked downward brushing your clit as you watched him, the sight so erotic it about made you climax from the sheer sight. You’re not sure when his fingers replaced yours but they sent you spiraling yourself as you beg him not to stop. Your moans are so loud, his mouth covers yours in an attempt to keep you quiet.

You’re both panting when your bodies still moments later and when he tries to set you down on the floor properly, your knees buckle and your legs feel like jelly.

You end up having sex twice more that night.

•

You’re pulled back to reality when you hear Penelope’s infamous high heels clicking down the hall towards where you and the surrounding few are standing.

“Emily said they’ll be here in 15 minutes.”

You nod, still half caught up in your memories. Before you can hear anything else going on, you’re pulled back under.

•

“Are you sleeping with Reid?”

The question came nine weeks after that one night. You almost choke on your coffee wondering how the hell Emily could be so blunt about it. Even though it was true, it was enough to make the tips of your ears burn just thinking of the—sometimes—raunchy rendezvous between the two of you. It’d only happened a handful more times lately but only because you’d started denying his offers a time or two. It was starting to leave you with a weird feeling after the act, one you couldn’t describe. It also made you kind of queasy too now.

“What makes you say that?” you half laugh, feigning nonchalance.

You should’ve known better than to try to fake it with: a) your best friend and b) your best friend who is also an excellent profiler.

“Y/N come on. You’ve been blowing me off for months now. Every time you’re around each other you’ve always got these secret glances and looks going on between the two of you. You act differently around each other now. The same kind of different that would come with two people who’ve been sleeping with one another. Let me not remind you how you left your wallet in my office to purposely come see him once.”

You winced, “You caught on to that?”

Her answering look is enough to tell you that of course she did.

“Look I don’t care what you do in your romantic life, you know that. It’s just- I’m protective of Spencer. I’ve known him since he was just a kid in the beginning of his FBI days.”

“You’ve known me practically all of my life,” you pointed out.

“Reid is different though. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“And you want me to?”

“No, of course not! He just deals with things differently. He’s not good at showing his emotions.”

“Sounds like most men,” you intoned.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Emily said, putting down her drink to look at you.

“He’s tough when it comes to work, but he just doesn’t know how to process his feelings well. Even he’s admitted it to me before. I just don’t want to see him hurt. If there’s any inclination that things are becoming more than they are and it’s not a reciprocated feeling, you need to end it.”

You would’ve scoffed at the statement if she wasn’t dead serious. If only she knew.

“I just don’t want him to have bit off more than he can chew when it comes to this.”

“I understand. But I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” Emily’s brow furrowed.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

•

Six months later, Abrielle—Abbie for short—was born. The spitting image of her father too, all the way down to the chameleon dimples as you call them; the ones that only really shine when they make certain expressions.

You did tell Spencer of course, not long after that conversation with Emily. He was and is still supportive and a good father. You decided not to be together for the sake of the baby and ended up co-parenting. It’d been a year and a half with your precious little girl and so far things have seemed to go smoothly. Other than the fact that you’d fallen head over heels in love with Spencer Reid.

It was true that you didn’t know much about each other in the months you’d spent together physically, but over the months of the pregnancy and as Abbie grew bigger, you learned a lot.

He loved Halloween, a big reason why you gave in to painting your 6 month belly a pumpkin for Halloween. He absolutely hated chopsticks, in which he said: “it was like foraging for food with a pair of number two pencils”. He enjoyed classical music; he absolutely insisted the baby listen to Mozart (which he prefers over Beethoven). He’d been shot three times; once in the knee, once in the neck and once in the arm. He memorized the delivery manuals when his fellow team member and best friend JJ was pregnant with her first son, just in case she went into labor in the field. He’s good at magic, he has three PhD’s, he loves learning. His mother has both schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s. He would do anything for the people he loves.

Which is one of the reasons you’re standing here currently.

You shift Abbie to your other hip as you watch the glow of the elevator numbers light up, the elevator getting closer and closer.

Had it really only been half a day ago when Emily had called and told you to meet her down at Quantico? At the time you hadn’t thought anything of it. You’d put Abbie in her car seat and driven over. It was only when you got there that you felt like your world had fallen out from under you.

You were filled in by the team that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico with drugs in his possession. None of it made any sense. There was no reason for Spencer to be in Mexico, no way he’d have drugs with him. But it was true. He was in a Mexico jail, high as a kite. Something else you couldn’t wrap your head around. He hadn’t touched any drugs since he got clean after being addicted to Dilaudid. That’s something else you’d learned about him, something he’d confessed during one of the many talks you’ve had with him.

You sat absentmindedly trying to keep Abbie preoccupied in your lap as everything around you seemed to move in slow motion yet too fast at the same time.

Emily, Rossi and Luke had jumped on the jet to head down there immediately while you, Tara, JJ and Penelope stayed behind. The others were working hard, trying to help him, trying to figure out what had happened. When Penelope showed you his mugshot it became real.

“Daddy,” Abbie grinned, pointing to the laptop screen as if she could reach through it and touch him.

He hadn’t looked good. You were scared to death. Then bad news became worse when a body had been found, a woman he was there to meet had been murdered. He was formally charged with the murder and was almost sent to a Mexican prison before thankfully he was extradited back to the U.S. just in time. Small mercies.

It wasn’t until they were on the way home that you found out he was there for Diana. He was trying everything he could to help his mother’s illnesses. You wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t. It was just a part of who he was, wanting to help his loved ones.

Obviously, you along with the others knew he was innocent. Proving it was going to be an uphill battle though. Apparently a serial killer the BAU had been dealing with for years, was framing him. You felt so helpless, knowing you couldn’t do a thing.

That’s how you ended up rooted to this spot where you were standing. Simply waiting to see those elevator doors open, not knowing what to expect.

As if the mechanism had read your mind, the doors opened revealing the four. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt, an FBI jacket over his hands. You knew it was covering his cuffed hands. You’d been warned beforehand. Your heart squeezed at the solemn and melancholy look about him.

You let the others greet him, standing back a bit to let them have their moment. After Garcia had hugged him, she motioned for you and you shuffled forward awkwardly, not quite able to hug him fully with Abbie in your arms. You hooked one arm around his neck as best as you could to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, “The team is gonna help you. I’ll do anything I can to help as well.”

“Daddy!” Abbie squealed, trying to wiggle out of your arms.

You tighten your grip on her, leaning her towards Spencer.

“Hey Abbie-bear,” he said, using the nickname he’d been calling her since before she was born.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, reaching her arms for him, not understanding why he couldn’t hold her.

“You be good for your mommy, okay?” His voice cracks before he leaned over and kissed her head.

Abbie’s whimpers go quickly from simple fussing to full blown crying when he doesn’t take her.

“We gotta go,” Luke said, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Rossi and I are going to escort him to the state penitentiary.”

You nodded, your own tears threatening to spill as they walk away. Abbie’s wails increased in volume, almost deafening by now.

“Daaaaaddy!”

You’re heartbroken at her wails and feel like breaking down yourself. Thankfully JJ offers to take her to calm her down and her crying fades as they recede behind closed doors further into the unit.

“Now what?” you whisper helplessly.

You feel a hand in yours and look over to see Penelope with tears in her own eyes. She squeezes your hand before responding.

“Hope. We have hope that we, this team, will clear his name; because right now, hope is all we’ve got.”

[askthedustbowl]

CHANT; a dust bowl series

i. it’s not supposed to be like this

persephone comes home from her mother’s to see that hades has renovated.

—

leaving demeter’s house always left persephone with a weird feeling. maybe nostalgia, maybe guilt. whatever it was, it was always just slightly different, and it always left her with a sour taste in her mouth, and a pit in her stomach.

this time, it felt like dread.

that feeling was only reinforced when she arrived at her husband’s office building. after dropping her bags at home and saying hello to her lovely—if only slightly hyperactive—puppies, she called a cab and made her way to see her husband. persephone had never enjoyed being in the hadestown corporation office building to begin with—it was too sterile for her, too unnatural. she had always much preferred the warmth and safety of six seeds. as long as persephone didn’t have to spend a while in the office, she could handle it, but now, at the first step over the threshold, she felt a sort of repulsion that was more violent than anything she had ever felt.

the first thing persephone noticed was the temperature. waves of heat were nearly visible in the air—the building felt like it was encased in fire. the air felt heavy and stifling. the second thing persephone noticed was the light. she looked up to see what had happened and quickly turned her head away once her eyes met the blinding white lights. hades had installed new fluorescent lighting in her absence, making everything seem overexposed and painfully cohesive.

this was terrible by itself, but when the elevator doors opened to the seventh floor, everything became so much worse. the sight of the area itself was nearly unbearable. the workers—these people whom she had grown so familiar with over the years, those whom persephone was beginning to see as extended family—looked lifeless. they kept their heads low, bent over mountains of paperwork. the bright conversation she had come to know had been stifled.

persephone exited the elevator slowly, taking stock of the world around her. this wasn’t right. she slipped off her coat and draped it over her arm as she approached the front desk.

“jessie?” she asked as she walked over to hades’s secretary. the plants she had given her only weeks ago were looking worse for wear—they weren’t meant to survive in an environment like this. not much was.

jessie looked up. “persephone.” she breathed a sigh of relief. “thank the gods.”

persephone frowned. “he…he renovated.”

jessie nodded. “he’s expecting you.” she said in a tired voice, far from the cheerful tone that persephone had come to associate with her. when her husband told her that he was too busy to collect her from the train station, this must have been why. he had been holding up in his office all day. “go on in.”

persephone quietly thanked her, and stepped into hades’s office. an angry little voice in her head whispered in her ears. he wanted her to see this. he wanted her to see the horrific changes he had made. he was proud of this.

she pushed open the door to his office, and he turned to face her. “persephone!” his mouth spread wide in a grin, an expression she knew he saved exclusively for her. “welcome home.”

“home? this…what happened here?” persephone asked. she knew that by foregoing a greeting, she was asking for an argument, but this was unacceptable. what had he done?

hades’s smile vanished at the tone of her voice. “what are you getting at?”

“hades, the people, the building.” persephone glanced pointedly around the room. “what did you do?”

hades’s eyes grew dark and stormy. these days, persephone was acquainted with that look. it seemed like every conversation had to eventually turn into an argument with him.

“i made some upgrades.” he said, as if he were talking to a child who didn’t know any better than to question him. persephone hated when he spoke to her like that.

“why?!” she hissed. she looked at her husband, looking for something in his eyes that would make sense of all this. a sign that he realized he had done something wrong. “this is horrific!”

hades set his jaw. “i did this for you, persephone.”

persephone couldn’t suppress a laugh, which only made his jaw clench. this was ridiculous. “for me?”

“yes, for you.” hades moved to take her coat, but she pulled away at the last moment. “you love the brightness and the warmth.”

oh gods, he was serious. “yes, hades, i do! when it’s from the sun! when it’s natural!” persephone gaped at the state of his office, with its too-bright lights and too-high temperature. “this...this is horrifying! and you’re subjecting your employees to this?”

hades scowls. “i thought you would be grateful.”

“why would you ever think that i would enjoy this?!” persephone cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. she knew that the workers would hear their shouting, but she didn’t care. why on earth would he do something this ridiculous?

suddenly, persephone realized something. a chill ran down her spine as something terrible entered her mind. “hades, i don’t work here.” she whispered. “why are you changing this office for me?”

he grinned at her—back to playing the part of the hades she knew and had fallen in love with. persephone ignored his smile. she had to know exactly why he did this.

“i’ve cleared an office for you.” he declared. “i want to bring you on the team. that way we can spend more time together. and if you’re working here, you don’t have to go see demeter half as often as you do.” he spoke as if he had figured out a solution to everything wrong in their lives.

persephone took a step back, shaking her head in disbelief. “hades, i’m not giving up the shop. this has never been on the table before.” she watched as his face fell, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had before. her disbelief was slowly turning into anger. “i don’t want to work here. i never have. hades, this is your place, your job—not mine. why would you do this without talking to me first?”

“if i didn’t know any better, i would think you’re trying to get away from me!” hades matched her volume, and in his deep voice, it almost made persephone want to cower back and run out of his office. but she held her ground.

“hades, you’re acting like a child!” persephone snapped. “i see my mother because she’s my mother! i run the shop because i love it there! gods, not everything is about you!”

before he had a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and walked out of his office, slamming the door behind her. she looked up to see all of the workers looking at her, a painful mix of hope and resignation on their faces.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, before sliding her coat on, and making her way out of the office before her husband could follow.

[realmofthemind]

My Dunderhead

Pairing: Snape x Reader

Word Count: 2,173

Summary: It all started when you found some dunderhead sitting in your secret hide out…

A/N: The story is basically a look through the timeline of your relationship with Snape. It's basically highlighted moments of your lives and time skips. I really hope you like it!

You felt it in the pit of your stomach. A mixture of anger, sadness and frustration. You marched your way through Hogwarts. "Stupid subject…." you grumbled to yourself. You had just failed a Herbology exam. You were beyond upset and frustrated. As you felt tears threaten to pour down your face, you quickly made your way to your secret place. Well- it wasn't YOUR secret place. The astronomy tower was well known but never used. Nobody went there unless they had a reason. Once you've discovered it, you've claimed it as yours. It was a place you went to when you were upset and needed a quiet, peaceful place to cry, draw, let your emotions out- hell you could do whatever you wanted up there.

As you made your way to the top of the tower, you noticed the door was already opened. Weird. You slowly approached the door and peaked inside. You saw a Slytherin boy with long black hair sitting with his back against the wall. He was reading a book, using the light that shined through the windows to see the text. You were furious. How dare he take your place- YOUR special place. You felt like he invaded your privacy. You felt tears start rolling down your cheeks as you were overcome with anger between your Herbology exam and this… this… dunderhead.

 Overcome with anger, you opened the door and stormed in. "What do you think you're doing?" you asked, wiping a tear that rolled down your cheek. He looked up from his book, slightly startled by your presence. You noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He looks as though he had been crying. You immediately regretted your abrupt actions. You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but pain. He looked at you and replied sternly "you don't own the astronomy tower." You were taken back by his reply. You softened your expression. "I know I don't. I'm sorry. I just come here sometimes to be alone and I didn't expect anyone else to be here." He sat there in silence as you both stared at each other, neither of you intending to make the next move. Conceding, you muttered an apology as you went to sit against the adjacent wall. You took a deep breath and pulled out a little black notebook from your backpack along with a pencil.

 The raven haired Slytherin boy was shocked anyone else knew about this room of the astronomy tower. Although he would never admit it, he was intrigued by you. He pretended to read as he peered over the book, looking at you. He watched you scribble in your notebook. He tilted his head curiously, wondering what you were drawing in it.

You were so caught up in your drawing and thoughts, you totally forgot the boy was even there until you heard his voice. You looked up at him. "Pardon?" You asked, not exactly catching what he said. "Severus. Severus Snape." he introduced himself. You replied, "(Y/F/N). (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)." He nodded in acknowledgement and turned his head back to his book.

After that day, it wasn't uncommon for you to run into each other in your secret room of the astronomy tower. Conversation would come easier between the two of you. At first, you'd talk about your subjects then you'd start to open up and discuss the reasons you both went up there, sometimes even crying in front of the other. When you both were in your room of the tower, every wall came down so easily. You two grew infatuated with each other but neither of you ever said a word about it.

One day, during your 6th year, you found Severus in the astronomy tower holding your black notebook. You froze in fear wondering if he looked through it. Among your many drawings, you knew that some of the pages were littered with his name in hearts and your name paired with his last. "You left this here last time…" he said with his voice trailing off at the end. You took it from his hand and muttered a thank you. You turned to leave but a hand around your wrist stopped you. You turned around to look at him. After what felt like an eternity of looking into each other's eyes, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. This was the start of your beautiful relationship. 

The rest of the year was nothing short of perfect. Between the dates at Hogsmeade, "official" debut of your relationship at the Yule Ball that year, study sessions together and moments in the astronomy tower, you two felt unbreakable. Then the end of 7th year came along and proved to be the complete antithesis of your 6th year. You were both uncertain of how your relationship would fare after Hogwarts.  On your graduation day, you both made a vow at the astronomy tower to try your best to make the relationship work out . You both parted ways keeping your vow, him teaching at Hogwarts and you taking a job in Diagon Alley.

 The next couple of years consisted of Dumbledore and McGonagall pestering Severus about you, Severus visiting you at work, and generally being content with where the two of you were in life. One fateful day, Severus invited you to visit him at Hogwarts. It was an odd request given that Severus has previously expressed his discontent with you visiting him at work. A few of your old professors who were still there greeted you, Dumbledore and McGonagall were unable to keep a knowing smirk off of their faces which you found odd. He took your hand and lead you off to the astronomy tower which you also found odd because you know Severus wasn't too fond of public displays of affection. The second you opened the door, you were hit with feelings of nostalgia. He led you to the center of the room, hands shaking. "Are you okay?" you asked as you stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. He remained silent as he turned around and held both of your hands in his. He took a look around the room before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He looked at you and started, "It was in this room I first met you, in this room I first opened up to you, in this room I fell in love with you, in this room I first kissed you," He paused and got down on one knee, "and in this room I will ask you to be mine for the rest of our lives. Although this room holds much significance, it's the person I met here who made it so important to me." He reached into his robe and pulled out a box. He carefully opened it revealing a ring. You had mentioned to him how cute you found the muggle tradition to be and you smiled at the gesture. "(Y/F/N). (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). Would you do me the honor of being mine for the rest of our lives?" You wiped away a tear that escaped your watery eyes as you profusely nodded. "Yes" you squeaked out softly before repeating louder "Yes." Severus smiled and stood up as he slid the ring on your finger. He hugged you, picked you up and spun you around twice before putting you down and kissing you.

The wedding day came faster than you both expected. It was a simple and small ceremony with only a few of your friends, family members and professors at Hogwarts attending. The only thing that mattered to you both was the fact it marked the first day of the rest of your lives together. You decided to take up a job that Dumbledore offered you at Hogwarts teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. You and Severus shared a dormitory. It worked better this way because now you truly never had to be a part from each other.

You tried to keep your relationship a secret at Hogwarts. Snape asked you to used your maiden name. He wanted to keep things professional and keep the students out of your personal life. It grew hard to do that during your third year of teaching at Hogwarts when you started to grow a noticeable baby bump. Snape would send sweets and love notes to your classroom throughout the day, leaving students to wander about who your mysterious husband was. Once the Weasley twins made it their main priority to figure it out, you knew there was a clock ticking over your heads. They WOULD find out. One careless and casual kiss in the (what you thought to be empty) hallways left the hiding Weasley twins in shock. News spread quickly and the second you and your husband set foot in the Great Hall for dinner that evening, all eyes were directed toward the two of you. You both walked tentatively toward the front table where most of the professors were smirking or trying to suppress a smile. You took your usual seats and tried to eat normally as you felt the students eyes on the two of you. You looked at McGonagall with a questioning glance. She leaned over and whispered "they know." You and Snape went white as you locked eyes with each other. You finished dinner under the awkward stares of the students. When you were both finished you heard Snape mumble something under his breath. He abruptly stood up and waited for you to do the same. He then offered his arm to you which you gladly accepted. You both walked down the center isle of the Great Hall, dropping the jaws of many students and teachers. Over the gasps of the students, one Fred Weasley could be heard saying "Professor Snape and Professor Snape. Perhaps the greatest mystery at Hogwarts." Once you were out of the hall and around the corner, you kissed him on the cheek.

You quickly got used to some of the students calling you Professor Snape. Some students preferred to stick to using your maiden name to avoid confusion. It didn't bother you. A lot of students were left baffled at how their favorite professor at Hogwarts could be married to the scariest. The next few months went on with students being a lot nicer and helping you around the classroom as your pregnant stomach became more prominent. Now that the secret was out, Snape made frequent visits to your class room in order to help proctor tests, get simple tasks done and make sure the students don't take advantage of your state. It was amusing to see his sweet helpful demeanor toward you change within seconds the second he heard someone speak out of turn during your class. You insisted you could keep your class under control but your efforts were futile. It was almost as if he became your assistant during class whenever he was not teaching one.

When the baby came, you and your husband took a little time off from teaching. You spent time together as a family and things could not have been more perfect. Your husband went back to teaching sooner than you would have liked. Dumbledore granted you a longer break from teaching so you can be with your child. All of the professors offered to watch the baby if opportunity were to ever present itself. They were all eager to expose them early to their trade. Hagrid was perhaps the most eager although your husband refused to let him be a candidate after he made a comment about 'starting off with flobberworms.'

One day, your husband came back to the dormitory after a long day of classes to find that you were not there. He knew you two weren't planning on visiting your shared home outside of Hogwarts until next weekend to finish preparing the baby's room. After checking the hospital wing to find you not there, he went the only place he though you would be. He slowly crept up the stairs of the astronomy tower and slowly cracked the door open. He peeked in to see you, sitting with your back against the wall, cradling your swaddled one month old baby in your arms. He heard you talking to the baby "you're having trouble falling asleep and this place is a special place that your daddy and I would go to when we had troubles. It's a special place that you can come to whenever you have troubles too." He smiled as he watched you rock the baby back and forth slowly. You took a deep breath and looked around the room. You carefully adjusted the baby in your arms. "Maybe you want to hear a bed time story? Well, let me tell you a story about mommy and this dunderhead…" Severus smile grew as stood there, listening you tell your one month old the story of you two in it's entirety. Of all the books Severus has read, that story will forever be his favorite.

A/N: I hope you liked it!

[dumbgaybitch]

have yourself a merry little christmas (thor x loki)

Well I promised @thorkicraving a fluffy Christmas Thorki fanfic, so here it is! It’s my first fanfic ever, so I’m not sure it’s going to be worth anything, but oh well. Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.

I’m not really feeling up for smut just yet… sorry? I might try it out sometime later, though.

Hope you guys like it, and merry (early) Christmas ♥

NB: Egil is a is a masculine given name derived from Old Norse, meaning “to inspire fright; the edge or point, a sting”. (Yes, I did my research, even for a cat’s name. Don’t judge.)

(I have no idea if I did this right lol sorry)

Characters: Thor, Loki

Pairings: Thor x Loki, Grandmaster x Loki (mentioned)

Universe: Human AU

Words: 1,881

Trigger warning: incest? But like, not really?

Summary: Thor surprises Loki with a huge Christmas tree that they set to decorating on a backdrop of Mariah Carey songs and Christmas carols, nostalgic memories and ugly sweaters, and not-so-brotherly feelings. Sprinkle some holiday cheer on top, and you get the perfect recipe for a cozy afternoon.

Read it on AO3

Loki was sitting in the window seat, a book in one hand and soft jazz music playing in the background. With his free hand, he was absentmindedly petting the small, purring kitten Thor had so petulantly decided to adopt a few weeks before. Loki had rolled his eyes, but said nothing because, as always, Thor would eventually have ended the discussion by saying he was the eldest, the smartest, the strongest, and -probably the most valid argument in Loki’s eyes- that he owned the apartment they lived in. So, they had gotten a kitten. Not that Loki really minded.

The front door opened, and he didn’t even have to look up to know who had just stomped in. “Brother!” Loki could positively hear the joy in his brother’s voice. Whatever was putting him in this good a mood, he didn’t want to know. “I see you’ve grown quite fond of Egil here.” Loki scoffed, not lifting his eyes from the pages, not stopping his fingers from stroking the cat’s pelt. “Don’t get your hopes up brother, I still call him Garbage.” Thor huffed, which immediately ignited a smirk on the younger man’s face. He took immense pleasure in calling the cat horribly offending names -well, offending to Thor, at least. The kitten probably didn’t care at all what name he was given, as long as he was being fed and pet.

“Stop saying nonsense and come help me.”

“Help you with what?”

“If you’d look up from that goddamned book, you’d know!”

Loki looked up, slightly alarmed by the angry tone Thor was using. He didn’t want to get bashed over the head with his book. His eyes went from his brother to what he was holding, and his mouth fell open, a childish gleam lighting itself deep in his eyes. “A Christmas tree!” He bounded up to it, his book falling forgotten on the floor and Egil scrambling to stop from hitting the ground face-first. The tree almost touched the ceiling, its big branches all but hiding Thor’s imposing bulk. A full-blown grin illuminated Loki’s face as he tilted his head to the side. “I call dibs on the star!” Thor shook his head and laughed. “Okay, fine, but I call dibs on helping you reach the top.” Loki could already imagine his warm hands around his waist, his strong body behind him, lifting him high up to help him put the golden star on the highest branch. He gulped and turned his head to the side, feeling a blush creep up his neck, his ears, his cheeks. I shouldn’t be feeling this. It’s not allowed. “Yeah, sure… brother.”

Thor didn’t seem to hear the change of tone in his brother’s voice, or at least he didn’t show it, choosing instead to set the big tree down in a corner of the living room and head to the kitchen for a well-deserved glass of water. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Loki ran his slender fingers along his face, exhaling a long sigh. When he opened his eyes, he saw Egil sitting at his feet, big caramel-colored orbs trained on him. “What?” The cat didn’t answer, tilting its head to the side to watch him more intently. Loki scowled and pushed past it to fetch the holiday decorations. He wouldn’t let something as stupid as unwanted flutters in the stomach get in the way of Christmas.

When he got back to the living room, stacks of cardboard boxes in his arms, his jazz music had been replaced by a Christmas playlist, Mariah Carey singing her heart out at top volume. Thor was sitting on the couch, his Christmas sweater sporting an exceedingly ridiculous Rudolph, a photo album open in his lap. Loki set the boxes down and sat cross-legged next to his brother, peeking at the pictures he was looking at. They were memories of when they were kids, outdoor picnics and birthday parties and family reunions, camping nights and barbecue dinners and bonfire evenings, northern lights and snow, fishing at the lake in summer. The raw beauty of Norway, pure and whole in those precious moments filled with happiness. “Do you miss it? Norway, I mean? The life we had?”, Loki asked, voice soft. He could see the nostalgia flooding his brother’s eyes, and even though he thought himself selfish, he hated seeing him that way. Thor was his big brother, the strongest of the two, the one who was supposed to protect him, keep him safe, watch out for him, and be there for him, through thick and thin. Seeing him sad or feeling down just didn’t sit well with Loki. It just wasn’t Thor.

“Nah, I don’t… miss it, not to that extent. I just… Sometimes, I just wish we could go back to how things were back then”, he answered, fingers delicately stroking a picture where he and his dad were laughing like mad. Back when I had a family, back when I trusted you, back when we knew how to feel around each other, back when everything was simple. He didn’t say it, but Loki knew him well enough to be able to read his sky-blue eyes. Loki frowned. “It’s ok to miss your family, you know.”

“It’s your family, too.”

“Sure.” Loki turned his gaze to his lap and started picking threads in the couch. He had always felt like an outsider, a stranger to this family, even when he hadn’t known he’d been adopted. “I just don’t miss them the same, I guess. I don’t know. Oh, enough with that already! Let’s get that Christmas tree all glammed up!”, he exclaimed, jumping up and slamming the album closed, setting it aside, not even bothering with Thor’s weirded out glance. He started picking out glittery tinsels and shining baubles, scowling at Egil who was desperately trying to catch the hanging end of a decoration. Thor shook his head, laughing, and got up to help him. “Did you get your taste in sparkly decorations from En?” Thor teased. Loki blushed, his scowl deepening. He hated the mention of his ex and their disastrous excuse for a relationship, but he hated it even more when he saw how gleeful it made Thor to tease him about it. He grumbled something under his breath. His brother came closer, leaning towards him, his head tilted to the side in the most ridiculous impersonation of innocence Loki had ever seen. “I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.” The blonde man’s grin became so obnoxious that Loki got the irresistible urge to wipe it off his face, and the only solution that somehow came to his mind was to kiss him.

Right there.

Right then.

And it was unexpected, and it was violent, and it was blissfully sweet and terribly lustful. It was something they both craved from the deepest pits of their beings, something their very cores vibrated to, something their hearts sang to. Thor’s arms wrapped around the younger’s waist, pulling him closer. Loki’s fingers slithered up his brother’s neck, latching onto the short blonde hair, nails digging into the soft skin of his scalp as he deepened the kiss. They were eager, hungry animals that hadn’t been fed for years.

Loki broke the contact, gasping for air, eyes wide and heart thrumming in its bone cage. What had he been thinking? What had he done? He tried pushing away, panic clear in his blue-green eyes, but Thor was too quick. He slammed him into the wall, hands coming under Loki’s thighs to lift him up and set him on his hips, pinning him between the wall and his own, strong body. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, his hot breath fanning his younger brother’s face.

“But -”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Loki. Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you were aiming for?” The truth was, he hadn’t calculated his move. For once, he had acted solely on impulse, obeying his needs, his desires, his wants, even though he had made sure they were hidden deep inside. Even though he thought he had made sure they would never take the pace on his conscious behavior. “Is this what you want, too?”

“It’s what I’ve been craving, for years,” Thor said, voice rough and deep and filled with longing. Loki shivered and felt his veins ignite with the fire of desire, driving him mad with want despite the fear twisting his stomach. His brother bent down and traced his neck with kisses, coaxing a soft moan out of Loki’s throat. Thor’s voice rumbled through his rib cage, strong, clear, commanding. “My room.”

Breathless, Loki nodded. “Yeah sure, let’s do that.”

Christmas morning

Waking up next to Thor was probably the best gift Loki could have asked for. Cold winter sunlight was streaming through the curtains, outlining the golden crown of hair on his head, the defined muscles of his arms, the white sheets carelessly wrapped around his lower half. Loki stretched out a hand and softly caressed his cheek. He almost jumped out of his skin when Thor grabbed his wrist and kept his hand close to his face, not seeming to want to let go anytime soon. Without opening his eyes, he asked: “Awake already, princess?” Loki rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I know you rolled your eyes.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. But I mean, princess, really? What am I, the god of sparkles?”

“You could be,” Thor replied, stretching, and then reaching for his brother, spooning him, engulfing him in his warm embrace. Loki had never felt so good.

“Right, because everyone knows I embody the rainbow-and-glitter spirit of unicorns.”

“Make that ‘sarcastic princess’ then.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“I know.” He could feel him grinning.

“Get back home safe, Peter. Tony, please watch out for him. Thanks. Merry Christmas everyone!” The last member of their friend-become-family group left the apartment, and Thor let the door fall closed with a sigh. Leaning on the wood, he directed a grin towards his brother. “Finally. Some alone time.”

Loki rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. “As if we didn’t already spend enough time together, huh?” Thor shrugged, a bashful smile on his face. “I guess all this is so new… I want to make the most of it.” He stepped closer and wrapped the younger in his arms. “Oh, would you look at that?”, he said, pointing upwards, above their heads, lips stretching into a grin. His blue eyes were twinkling with mirth, not leaving his brother’s face for even a second. Loki raised his gaze to the ceiling, lowering it back to Thor to better raise his right eyebrow at him. “A mistletoe, brother? Really? I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” The blonde man scoffed. “Oh please. I know you love it.” Loki wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like romantic sappy shit, no.”

Thor rolled his eyes and swooped down to steal a kiss from his brother’s lips. “Course not.” A grin inched up his mouth, mirroring Loki’s smirk. The younger one shook his head and gripped Thor’s neck, coming up for a long, sweet kiss.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year, isn’t it?

[zenshin]

yet another writing blurb

Vreath stood on the doorstep, looking at the door before him. He hadn’t been home in ages, and now here he was, looking at the place he’d called home. Why was he here? It was probably nothing.

He’d been living with his friends for the past few months, and despite the guilt he’d felt for his twin brother, he knew that it was the best choice for himself. He was undoubtedly in a better place, but still, it ate at him, knowing he’d silently just up and left his brother one day. He should’ve taken him, but...

Here he was, at his old home, ready to confront his old family to save the person he loved. He didn’t quite know what had drawn him back, but he’d felt a string in his heart snap earlier that day, and that scared him. His friends were confused, but they graciously drove him out to the house after understanding that something serious had landed on his shoulders.


What was he doing? He was afraid to open the door. Everything was fine, so why was he overreacting? Why was he so afraid of the answers he might find in this place? The family car wasn’t in the driveway, so they were probably all out. And yet, why did he feel like he’d find something terrifying inside?

Vreath shook it off. He knew something was here, and he needed to find it himself, before they came back. He reached for the doorknob, with his old key jammed in it, and turned it with a force of both strength and weakness. Pushing the door open, he held his breath, and looked ahead at...nothing.

Nothing was out of place. Everything was mostly as it had been before he left, from the stickers on the closet in the entryway and the weird dent on the floor in the entrance to the dining room.

He breathed in, the scent of his old family flooding his mind. He felt nostalgia and pain, like the feeling of an old toy slicing open your hand. Something was still amiss though, the pit in his stomach had deepened as he walked around. Then, he noticed. His brother’s keys were still hanging on the fridge, meaning he was supposed to be here. Rarely, he’d go out for walks or something, but usually not while his parents were out. He was here, and yet...there was no sign of life in the house.

His stomach became a trench, and he held onto the kitchen counter. Vreath felt sick, having not even seen anything yet. He had a bad feeling about this, about what he’d find, but he held on strong.

Finally, he decided he should face his fears. He went to their old bedroom, and standing in front of the door, a tear fell down his face. Where did this tear even come from? Nothing had set him off yet, and still, he was so scared. He gripped the knob with an iron hand, firm enough to snap it from the door had he exerted force. He opened the door though, and took his a step inside.

The posters were still on the wall, and the room smelled of teenagers, a mix of sweat, hormones and just general human scent. The nostalgia hit him hard enough to send another tear to his eyes, but this one he wiped away. He moved his eyes around, noticing the small ways the layout had shifted. His cords were no longer docked at the edge of their desk, replaced by his brother’s favorite pencils. There were more marks than before, carvings of character into the wood.

But he knew he couldn’t avoid it. He moved his eyes to the right, the bunk bed they’d shared now taking up the frame of his eyes. His emotions skyrocketed in that instant, because there he was: Blair. He was just sleeping, his arm draped off the edge of the bed. Thank god.

Something was still wrong, however. His brother was a notorious snorer, to the point where sometimes his noises would alert other people at night. It was always a noise worthy of noise cancelling headphones, it was so irritating. But in this moment, he was completely silent.

Vreath went over to his brother, now extremely alarmed. “Blair? Blair! Blair, wake up! Hey, get up, idiot! Blair!” He tapped his brother, but he received no feedback. He began shaking him, but this didn’t elicit a response either. There’s no way, right? Vreath tried to choke his tears, but they leaped from his eyes, streaming down his face onto the body of his twin.

He lifted his brother onto his bed, his face now in full view. There was...blood? It was stuck on his face, smeared on as if he’d been smothered in a small pool of it. Only now did he notice the stains on the floor, a deep crimson, sunk in the carpet. Vreath felt a knife run itself across his heart. There’s no way...

He looked at his brother’s expressionless face, noticing the small streams of blood that’d clearly come out of his nose and mouth. They were hours old at this point, and despite his desire to deny it, Vreath very much knew that was the case.

Vreath was crying, horrible noises came from him as he shook and held his brother’s body. He couldn’t be dead, they were siblings. If one was alive, they both had to be...he loved his brother. He couldn’t leave him alone...

Vreath sat on his brother’s bed, with him in his arms, sprinkling tears onto his t-shirt. He held him closely, weeping at the loss of his other half. Violence snuck into his heart, and he dug at his chest with his right hand. His heart was in pain, he couldn’t take this. But after shedding his own blood on his brother’s body, he stopped. He couldn’t.

Closing his eyes, Vreath let out a scream, a bloodcurdling cry of pure pain. It was heard by no one, though. He was alone. This death was in his hands, only his heart.

[marypsue]

Wrote a ficlet for the Symbiote Ford AU that I proposed a little while ago because I have no self-control. Warning for body horror and parasitism (well, mutualism, technically, but that’s not the term people usually block).

...

At first, Ford doesn't recognise the room he wakes up in. 

He flares his fronds, testing the space around him without having to get out of the very soft and comfortable bed he's found himself in, but there's nothing but the low-level chatter of small minds. Insects, or maybe rodents, busy in the walls and the corners. No other sapient thoughts. He's alone.

Wait. Fronds? He doesn't have - 

A throb of pain pulses through Ford's head, starting at the base of his skull, and his memories fracture. He remembers the oracle, Jheselbraum, remembers her taking him in.

He remembers the vat.

...

“You - you can really make it so that Bill can’t access my mind anymore?”

The seven-eyed oracle smiles, enigmatically. “I can’t. But I can introduce you to someone who can.”

He follows her down a twisting corridor, out into a smaller chamber that contains a large, soft, comfortable-looking bed, a desk covered in weird detritus that makes his heart clench with nostalgia, and, stretching from the floor almost to the ceiling, a clear glass vat.

Inside the vat, suspended, floats a pale, pink, eyeless, wormlike thing. It’s about as long as his torso and as thick around as his wrist. Its long, segmented tail is lined on either side with evenly-spaced spines, and at the very top of its tail, protruding from the rough oblong of featureless flesh that might, in another creature, have been a head, is a vicious-looking spike nearly three inches long. On either side of the oblong, three pale pink fronds wave gently in whatever viscous liquid the creature hangs suspended in.

As he steps up to the vat, the fronds flick towards him.

There’s a new mind in front of him, whirling, tangled, practically spitting sparks. The tenor of it tastes a little like the last mind he bonded with. Perhaps younger, less experienced, but simmering with the same determination and boiling with intellect. They will make a good match, and he projects as much in the mind’s direction.

He steps back, reeling. “Did that thing just -”

Jheselbraum is beaming. “Oh, good! If he reached out to you, that’s an excellent sign.”

He steps up to the vat again, reaching out to press a six-fingered hand against the glass. The worm-creature’s fronds flick towards him again, and again, his brain is bathed in that feeling of - warmth. Trust. “What is...he?”

“A Solovmachian. They’re symbiotic lifeforms that feed on brainwaves.” Jheselbraum clasps her hands in front of her, watching him carefully. “They need a host to be able to live outside of this kind of suspension. But as a result of how they process their diet, most compatible hosts become very strongly psychic.”

He presses his other hand against the glass as well. “And you think I should become his...host.”

“The psychic abilities you’d gain would be enough to keep Bill at bay. And this Solovmachian was previously bonded to a freedom fighter who dedicated his life to destroying Bill Cipher. The knowledge you could share -”

He doesn’t wait for the oracle to finish speaking. “I’ll do it.”

...

Ford pushes himself up to sit on the bed, running a hand through his hair. There’s a dull ache running all the way up his spine, and a muffled throb at the base of his skull, but he feels well-rested and -fed in a way he hasn’t in - years. Probably since before he fell through the portal. He owes Jheselbraum a debt of gratitude.

He gives his fronds another, experimental flick, scanning the room around him one more time even though he can see now that there’s no one else there. It’s strange, mostly because it isn’t strange - he has six brand new, inhuman appendages, attached to an equally brand new sixth sense, and yet, they feel as easy and natural to use as the fingers on his hands. He couldn’t begin to explain to anyone else how they work. They simply do.

Ford pushes himself to his feet, and then has to sit back down again immediately, head spinning. His balance is shot, and he hopes it’s not permanent. His head feels muffled, fuzzy, as though the inside of his skull has been lined in felt. Even remembering how quickly the bond had resolved and the host body had recovered its equilibrium last time isn’t particularly reassuring when the room won’t stop whirling around him.

“Shared memories,” Ford says, aloud, and tries not to be startled at the sound of his own voice. “Right.”

He shuts his eyes and rests his head in his hands until the spinning slows.

...

He’s lying facedown on something like a narrow, padded table, naked from the waist up, his face pressed into the cushioned ring affixed to one end of the table and his arms dangling over the sides. Trying to breathe normally. Trying not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

“Just hold still,” Jheselbraum says, from somewhere behind him. “And try to relax. It’ll hurt less.”

He takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly, relaxing his shoulders. A wave of calm washes over him, and he recognises it as the same kind of feeling the - symbiote - had projected at him earlier. He tries to relax, to let it calm him, but the knot of dread at the pit of his stomach still winds and unwinds.

In that warm, reassuring voice, Jheselbraum says, “Now, this might pinch a bit,” and he shuts his eyes. 

The symbiote is cold as Jheselbraum drapes it along his spine, cold and a little slick with whatever the vat had been filled with. He can’t help the shiver, or the ones that follow as the symbiote’s spines skitter over his bare back, sliding its wormlike body upwards towards his skull. Seeking a place to - attach.

Another wave of calm, of reassurance, bathes his brain, and he settles into it, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing. There’s a sharp pinch at the small of his back, which quickly resolves into an ache, and he struggles to keep breathing deeply and evenly. Not to think about the thing’s spines sinking into his flesh, digging into his vertebrae, working themselves into the delicate and irreplaceable bundle of nerves that controls all of his motor functions - 

There’s another pinch, and another ache, a little higher up his spine, and then another, a little higher yet. He tries to keep focused on his breathing, not to worry about whether the numbness crawling up his back is a sign that he’s going to be paralysed. Not to think about the three-inch spike lying, waiting, pressed against the nape of his neck. It’s too late to turn back now.

He barely feels the pinch between his shoulders, the ones that climb his neck, as anything other than pressure. The feeling of calm is all around him, now, an ocean of stillness and easy tranquility in which he finds himself drifting. Any pain he might have felt, any fear, seems insignificant next to its immensity. He wonders, briefly, if Jheselbraum has drugged him somehow. 

He’s expecting a sudden, sharp stab to the base of his skull. And there is one, only...not nearly as hard or as swift or as painful as he’d expected. Instead, there’s a quick piercing pain like a needle sinking into skin, and then that dull aching pressure that must be the spike working its way into his brain, into the one thing he has left, into the very heart of what makes him who he is...

For just an instant, he’s seized by an abrupt, frantic terror of what’s happening to him, of what he’s stupidly chosen to do, to trust, has he learned nothing, when this turns out to be another trick he will never be able to escape, this is the end - 

And then the symbiote’s fleshy body settles flush against the back of his neck, and the final two spines slip neatly under his skin, anchoring themselves in the vertebra at the base of his skull. 

He opens his eyes.

He can see, again. Can hear and smell and taste and Jheselbraum’s worry is fading into excitement and the world is loud and bright and overwhelming after so long in the dark and the silence of the vat and the walls around him are alight somehow with dull sparks of consciousness and he’s not dead even though he remembers dying remembers the last host dying under him remembers - 

It’s somewhere about here that his poor, abused mind, trying to protect itself from the deluge of information flooding it, shuts down.

...

When Ford opens his eyes again, the first thing they land on is a glass of water sitting on the cluttered desk across the room. He braves the few steps over to the desk, leans heavily against it as he grabs the glass. There are two purple pills sitting beside the glass, as well, and he swallows them both, chasing them with a long gulp of water. The throbbing at the base of his skull eases, just slightly. 

There’s nothing like a mirror in the room, but the glass wall and dim liquid of the now-empty vat gives it a passably reflective surface. Ford’s image is distorted by the curvature of the glass, of course, but he can make out his own face. On either side of it, three pale pink fronds flare, a little like the frills on each side of an axolotl’s head. The highest two are just about level with the base of his skull, peeking out from behind his ears; the lowest about level with his chin. 

Ford raises a hand, gingerly reaches up to touch one and immediately snatches his hand away. Apparently they’re still very sensitive to touch. Thankfully, that should fade before long.

He turns his head, watching parts of his face balloon and shrink in the funhouse mirror of the vat’s glass wall. His new appendages are still attached to the oblong lump of flesh that served the symbiote as a head, anchored at the back of his neck. The symbiote’s body is still visible, stretching down along his spine and disappearing into the light robe that Jheselbraum must have given him. The skin around where each of its spines went in looks puckered, like it’s already starting to heal.

The sight of something latched onto his spine like this should, Ford knows, be strange, horrifying, viscerally upsetting. Somehow it isn’t. 

No wonder it still aches, though.

He knows Jheselbraum’s coming before she reaches the door, hurries over and pulls it open for her before she can knock. She beams, and crosses the room to the desk. Ford follows, pushes aside a jar of what look like human ears and a sheaf of notes to clear a space for her to set down the tray she’s carrying. Whatever’s on it smells amazing, and suddenly Ford feels like he hasn’t eaten for a month. 

“You’re up and on your feet,” Jheselbraum says, impressed, and Ford knows she hadn’t expected him to be walking around for another day or two at least. "The bonding���s going well, then?”

“I’m still a little dizzy,” Ford admits.

“That’s only to be expected,” Jheselbraum reassures him, with an understanding smile. “Come, sit down and have something to eat. When you’re finished, I need to talk with you about Bill Cipher.”

[zephyrthesolitary]

Hi I hope you are well! Can I have a reading on my personality and if possible what’s in store for me please? I’ve been through identity and existential crisis, I feel lost and unsure what I want to do and where I’m heading. I’m indecisive, often doubt myself, and don’t have self-discipline. It’s been difficult not just dealing with myself but things that’s been happening in my family. I feel numb. Thank you 😊 xx M, Leo

Hi there! Thanks so much! I hope you too are well, my friend. Especially, despite the hardships, you are experiencing! I’ve completed your requested reading for you. It is very extensive so I ask that you bear with me and take your time reading through it. Please feel free to inbox me if something is NOT clear or confusing. I found profound and great conflicting energies in this reading so I will do my best to seamlessly highlight and deliver this message to you. First, see the complete reading image below.

For the first image, you will notice 3 cards: Strength, The Wheel of Fortune, and Daughter of Cups. These are cards that fell out as I was shuffling for the main spread. I believe that each of these cards accurately represents who you are underneath the external going ons. You are Leo - The Strength card. You possess strength, a courageous heart, and are filled to the brim with creative energy. You are compassionate. You are going through a cycle right now. A very trying time but you will experience that all cycles eventually end and new ones begin. Better ones. Change is a necessary evil. You are also very gentle, introspective, and kind-hearted. You may be a natural creative. Emotionally, the rivers run deep. You may be sentimental when in touch with your emotional self. But as of now, you may be emotionally stunted or disconnected. 

The second photo addresses all cards INCLUDING the spread I chose to gather insight around you, your troubles, your inclinations, what is ahead for you, challenges, and outcomes. 

Your Spread: The Celtic Cross; I figured this spread would be best for the level of comprehension you are seeking.

Card #1 (in the center, underneath the top card) - 7 of Swords; a card of secrecy, trickery, turning a blind eye. A fox with 6 swords in the open, 1 swords underneath the fox and the fox has one eye covered, peeking. Foxes also sometimes represented trickery in some adaptations. This is the Heart of The Matter. I get the feeling that your true self is hidden. That there are a lot of things, thoughts, that are buried deep within your mind, guarded and locked away. I believe this is done unconsciously to adapt to external factors and people but also, consciously for the need to be accepted or the fear of being rejected. This is cunning, deceit. It might not be intended to harm someone but because you want to prevent harm to yourself or accidentally harming those around you. You might be running on thin ice, wondering how much longer this will continue before you are discovered, found out, or before your true colors come forth. When we choose oftentimes to stifle ourselves, it often manifests more in negative ways. Or the closet door explodes open in ways we cannot control.

Card #2: (in the center, on top of the 7 of Swords) - The Hierophant; a card of Religion, Tradition, Knowledge, Unlocking, Power, Enlightenment. A Crow or Raven holds the Key. A message to be unlocked from within. This is a Challenge. The secrecy or the hiding, trickery, the stifling may be occurring due to the lack of power. You do not understand that there is power, truly in being connected to yourself. Simply put: you step into your FULL POWER when you ARE YOURSELF. However, you cannot seem to do that. This might be due to again, external factors, oftentimes family can be the very people we’ve always wanted peace, unconditional love which brings unconditional acceptance... but what happens when they expect us to BE a certain way? What happens when there is a tradition but we seek progressiveness? We become afraid of what they think. We become at risk of being termed the “Black Sheep”. Ostracized, the bad kid, the weird kid, the problem child. So we either choose the road less traveled or we try to lock our true selves away from the surface and create a ghost of ourselves, filling ourselves with who OTHERS want us to be. Your challenge? Reconnecting with who you should be vs. Choosing to be who others want you to be. When you resolve this challenge, you are deciding to TRUST in yourself, abolishing all self-doubt and any self-hate. 

Card #3: (the bottom card underneath the center cards) - The Tower; a card of Pride, Disaster, and Sudden Upheaval. Even though the tip of the tree may have been struck by lightning and, engulfed in flames, the beautiful and quick flash of lightning shows us something else: resilience. The rest of the tree is still standing. Even if the tip is missing. This represents your Unconscious. Within yourself in unconscious planes, you are feeling destructive, uprooted. You indulge in destructive acts. You lack self-control and so you lack discipline too. You might be too prideful to admit that you are your own undoing. Sometimes, even if a lot of our sufferings derive from external, we induce a lot of our own suffering, too. By being untrue, and disconnected from yourself, you are picking yourself apart and dishonoring you. You are doing yourself a great disservice. But all is not lost. When you level yourself off and, come to terms with the negativity you are steeped in, you discover how resilient you are to your own abuses. How enduring and sturdy you are. The lightning strike is your EUREKA! You gain insight here when you delve into your unconscious and can rebuild anew. You can build and lay down a positive foundation. This destruction is inevitable. Sometimes, to ascend, we must descend into our lowest pits and levels. Something you are doing no longer serves a purpose. Do. The. Work. Clean the closet out.

Card #4: (the left card to the center cards) - 3 of Swords; a card of heartbreak, betrayal, suffering, extreme grief. A heavy, dark, set of experiences or singular experience, binds these emotions together and they are of high concentration. This represents your past. Something in your past has shaped you into this unhealthy version of yourself. While it could be the ROOT of this, it can also be something you just did not let go of and it simply contributed to the version of you, now. The suffering in the past stemmed from places of loneliness, betrayal, rejection. You had such an intense period of suffering. And it never quite left you. While the situation is past, you still have scars and open wounds. But this moment of transgression was required. It brought out the Lion in you. The Strength you never knew you had to overcome this matter. And this strength never left. But it is being suppressed as it is a greater part of you. You are in a cycle, I said before. Remember though, that this too shall pass. DO NOT allow current wound, past wounds or anticipation of future damage trap you and hold you at its mercy. Roar in the face of your pain and take time to lick your wounds. Walk forward. And know within yourself that you are the only one who can do their very best, for themselves. No one else matters, where YOU should matter.

Card #5: (the top card, above the center cards) - Father of Cups; a card of balance, compassion, and control. This represents your conscious. Your greatest strength and asset, even if you lack discipline right now in this unbalanced state is that you can be controlled, in balance, and master those deep rivers that flow within you of emotions. You are not numb, my dear, but FULL of emotions. Due to your disconnect with yourself, you appear and feel numb. But in your unbridled form, you are full of emotion and have an understanding of when and where it does you good to display your heart and where it might be harmful to you. You are a compassionate, diplomatic, and generous individual. You must uncover yourself, stop stifling your identity, rebuild from the bottom, and reconnect to this feature of yourself to remove that emotional disconnect and blockage. Use the Heirophant’s key. Set yourself free.

Card #6: (the rightmost card, next to the center cards) - Father of Wands; a card of Leadership. Creativity, observing the bigger picture, and overcoming challenges. This represents your future. When you are in touch with yourself, confident within yourself, you demonstrate the ability to lead, possess focus and determination, and move forward with fiery, contagious inspiration. You have a vision and the hands, and skills to manifest it. You lead with unconquerable passion. Others find it hard not to trust you because you trust yourself so well and because you can clearly see the future; because you ARE creating that future. But you are concerned. You do not feel like you can lead anyone much less lead yourself out of the rut you are in. You cannot overcome simple challenges, you might be telling yourself. Start telling yourself “I can”. “I matter”. “I will.” Start small, and work your way around to the bigger picture. Look back so far over what I’ve said. It requires you to step out of the shadows. It requires you to open up your GOOD pandora’s box. It requires you to reconstruct yourself first. Put down your pride. Love yourself, care for you. Regain touch with your emotions, find a balance to step into this future you. You WANT to begin a new adventure. You desire a new chapter in your life. To break this cycle and become future you, it must begin with you and within you. Nourish the fire that is within. Trust in yourself. 

Card #7: (first card from the bottom of the line of cards) - 6 of Cups; a card of roots, origin, childhood, joy, child-like happiness. Nostalgia, reunion. This represents YOU, the querent. How must you approach this disconnect and all these negative manifestations of yourself while the positive is suppressed? This card says to reunite the pieces of you. You need a reunion. Go back to your roots. Remember the Tower. Look at your foundation. Go inside yourself. Look at what brought you here. What made you this way. Introspection is key when we are lost. Bring all of the different pieces, past and present together to walk into the future. But do not allow yourself to get lost in your past during this introspection. It can be hard to come back to the present and it can prevent you further from developing your future. Tap into your Father of Cups energy. Find a balance between these two times of your life and search for yourself. A lot of the times, we search for answers externally, when its actually within ourselves all along.

Card #8: (second card from the bottom of the line of cards) - 9 of Swords; a card of anxiety, nightmares, depression and, supreme, deep negativity. Can reside in the mind or can affect the mind. This represents your environment. What grounds are you on? Is it even playing ground? Is it healthy or unhealthy? Sadly, it is not. This represents very heavy and STUCK energy. Your environment is confining. You feel trapped. You feel stuck. You cannot control anything around you much less YOU. You may be over-analyzing which leads to crippling indecision, feelings of helplessness, confusion, and stuckness. Stop. Stop. Stop. Easier said than done, I know. But the answer you are seeking has such a less complex and deep way about itself than you are thinking. And it is not far off or far from you. Take a moment to listen to water, wind, silence YOUR mind and you will hear the whispers of your inner self. It has the answers. But your mind is a battlefield and the literal environment you are in is not supportive of this level of positivity and healing or reconnection. Leave if you must. Go to a park, walk, expose yourself to the Sun. As a Leo, the Sun is where you feel most at home, in terms of Astrology. Go to your element. Create it if you must. But do not allow yourself to reside in STUCK energy. As a Leo, your modality is fixed. You can be stubborn and set in ways. But you may have other planetary aspects or placements in your astrological chart and body that allows for progression and spiritual and self reconnection. Use the water in you to remove those blockages. Let the sun melt the ice and return it to water. Use your fiery force and find the warmth again.

Card #9: (third card from the bottom of the line of cards) - The Sun; a card of hope, positivity, celebration, success, and joy. These represent your Hopes and Fears. Even in your inquiry, if it was not outright said, one could conclude that in your state, you are still hopeful. You want to get out of the rut. You want to release negativity from your life. You want to invite positivity. You want to feel your feelings again and to be liberated and to be yourself. You are fearful of the “man in the mirror”. You see something more adverse and what you may call ugly or distasteful every day You see depression and nothing to be happy for or proud of. You are ready to transform from this. You are eager to overcome any obstacles or challenges you are faced with. And you WILL. This is done unconsciously through the attainment of knowledge. You have to traverse the deep waters within. Relearn what it is to be YOU.  

Card #10: (top card in the line of cards) - 5 of Swords; a card of self-destruction, liberation of the old, victory, unbridled ambition. In some cases, can be indicative of sneakiness or ruthlessness; winning at all costs. This represents your Outcome. Where does this lead you? What is ahead of you? Victory. A new beginning. When you manage to follow all the guidance provided to you, including your own guidance, you find victory and liberation. A certain level of ruthlessness is here because you are hungering for better and greater things. You spent so much time trapped, buried, hidden, locked away that you will do ANYTHING never to go back. This is fine. But maintain balance. Check-in with yourself and do not let your pride instill and inflate itself in you that you lose control. Of course, never let anyone send you back to such dark places either. Reinforce, put your foot down, and be firm in your growth and decision. Listen to your inner-self. Make sure it agrees with you. Don’t worry about who does or does not agree with you. They are not you. We have seen what happens when we try to fulfill others. It leaves us quite unfulfilled. But also know that mindfulness is a skill best developed now. Your will to defend yourself and new found self at that might not be well received by those who do not know or understand you or could be of good faith and good service to you. Constant vigilance, friend. You will be OK. 

Deck Used for reading: The Wild Unknown Tarot by Kim Krans.

With light, love, and warmth,

-Zephyr

Thank you for choosing me to deliver this reading’s guidance, insight, and nourishment to you. I hope that it is of great service to you now and forever. 

[unforgettaeble]

Saudade

the re-do!

saudade:  a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia for someone or something that has been and will never be again

that gif hurts me 

“Looking back on it all, it’s funny actually.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, funny. Not ha-ha funny, but the weird, ironic funny.. You and I burned too brightly in the beginning, we were never going to last, I see that now. I just didn’t think we were going to end up here. It’s better this way Yoongi, we would have hurt each other much more than how you’re hurting me now. I’ll just go.”

Watching his shoulders droop as he accepted your decision put a crack into your already weak facade, if you didn’t leave soon he’d witness your complete and utter breakdown. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and pushed past him, fleeing for the comfort of your best friend’s arms, his whisper following you into the night.

“Good-bye, Y/n.”

                                                      ********

One glance.

One glance was all it took for you to fall deeply, unabashedly in love with the boy known as Min Yoongi. His gentle smile that turned goofy and gummy when happy, his pecan brown eyes that glinted with intelligence as he challenged you in the debate team, all of these things--and more--had you pining for him for a full year.

The devil known as Jung Hoseok, in other words your best friend, saw fit to let slip how you felt about Yoongi one night during a field trip, the blush that colored his cheeks even as his smile widened into the one that you adored was one that you’d never forget; blush pink becoming your favorite color and taking over your wardrobe.

Your penultimate year of school was a blissful one, each day happier than the last. Yoongi waiting by your locker in the mornings never failed to make your heart go pitter-patter in your chest, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as you were absolutely positive he could hear it.

Featherlight kisses brushing your cheeks, nose, eyes, before finally landing on your lips had you melting into his embrace, their power never waning.

The day he called you ecstatic about an audition he’d landed with a company had you screaming into the air, forgetting to put on a matching pair of shoes in your rush to go over and celebrate with your friends, the other five boys in the group making you feel like one of their own the minute Yoongi introduced you.

Nervous glances your way, twitchy fingers and random kisses let you know just how anxious Yoongi was about this audition. Your efforts to calm him and make him happy were rewarded with a fervent kiss, followed with the words you’d waited to hear from him your whole life-- “I love you, Y/n. God, do I love you.”

                                                           **

A weekend excursion to Seoul left you breathless, an overnight stay in a run down motel leading to the best night of your life.

Your moans painted the ceiling of your room, his groans washed over your body, his fingers burned holes into your skin and his tongue licked fire across your flesh as you both climbed towards your peaks, yelling on the way back down.

Gentle caresses across your abdomen, teasing kitten licks to your breasts and the hungry look in his eyes sped up the wait time for round two. Quiet whispers were your background noise as you fell into a dreamless slumber, Yoongi’s raspy voice following you into the depths, a smile evident in the tone.

“How did I ever end up so lucky, Y/n? What did I ever do to deserve you? I hope you know you’re with me for life, can’t get rid of Min Yoongi that easily.”

                                                      **

Tension filled silence followed you home, anxiety that he somehow regretted that night clawing it’s way down your throat to settle into the pit of your stomach. Yoongi did nothing to dispel your fears, absent-mindedly brushing a kiss onto your forehead as he left your car.

You were left to stew over the next few days, your anxiety boiling in your heart like some witches’ brew--a cold bedsheet replacing the eye of newt.

A call in the middle of Calculus the following Tuesday sent you scurrying to the ladies’ room, an apologetic ‘it’s that time of the month’ saving your behind from a trip to the principal’s office.

A panicky hello was all you could muster as you waited with bated breath to hear what emergency made Yoongi call you in the middle of your favorite class, sweaty, clammy palms gripping the hem of your Totoro sweater.

“Y/n, I did it! They’ve accepted me into the company, I’m officially a trainee at Big Hit!

Hey, did you hear me?

Come on, say something, aren’t you proud of me?!”

Anger tainted his melodious voice, his inability to realize you were crying until the first sniffle comical, his hurried sorry’s! making you giggle, relief evident through his sigh.

An afternoon of kisses, tears and laughs as you two reminisced over your relationship, his quiet assurances that nothing has changed except where I live, Y/n. I still love you and I will keep loving you even after I’ve become a relic of kpop days past, you’ll see while you hiccuped and tried not to ruin his favorite jeans with your tears. His words didn't help in the least bit, a sense of dread tinging your happy day with streaks of gray anxiety. 

You knew you were being melodramatic, it wasn’t the end of the world that Yoongi would no longer be at your locker every morning, he was graduating this year--it was bound to happen. Yet the weekend you spent poring the memory over your time in Seoul proved to be a poison, a thorned wedge driving itself between the two of you.

That night was your first fight, a morbid need to see him upset and wanting to placate you, to comfort you fueled your rant. 

Words flew through the air like missiles, your accusations he would find another woman while in Seoul hurting him, yet he refused to fight back. He stood there, calm and steadfast against your barrage of abuse until you’d dared utter the thought that maybe you never loved me and just needed someone to distract you while you waited for what you really wanted.

His mask broke, and a fury you had yet to see in your loving boyfriend came through.

“Okay, say you’re right Y/n! Maybe I never loved you!”

Your hands flew to your mouth, covering it as you crumpled to the floor, a sobbing heap. Heavy steps pounded over to you, his bare knees coming into view as he crouched down to face you.

“You know I didn’t mean that, right? How could you possibly say that when you know damn well I’m head over heels in love with you, Y/n? Your eyes hold a world that I want to get lost in for all eternity, your hands give me sensations I didn’t know existed time and time again.”

His lips ghosted over your face as they collected your tears, murmurs about how he loved you and the things he loved about you reaching the small crack in your heart and effectively putting a bandaid over it, bringing along a sense of shame that you acted so rashly out of fear.

Head tilting back to meet his lips in a gentle embrace, your fingers rose to tangle themselves in his hair, clothes falling off like a bird molting as you made your way to his bed.

Make-up sex was amazing, just like Hoseok had said.

                                                     **

The first few months of being away from Yoongi were lonely but bearable, the two of you spent every moment you could texting, calling each other and Skyping. You got worried and fretted over how tired he looked, his insisting that he was fine adding to the worry.

Your one year anniversary came up, and it was everything you thought it would be. Somehow Yoongi had wrangled some time off and he surprised you at school, whisking you away to take you home, ordering you to put on what he’d brought.

You paused while descending the staircase, the sight of Yoongi in a suit and tie drying your mouth. You gulped and continued on your way, watching as his eyes locked on your satin-clad form and brightened immensely, the grin on his face blinding.

“I’m such a lucky bastard, Y/n. But now I don’t know whether I should show you off or rip that dress off your body and take you right here on the floor.”

You reached a compromise, sliding the zipper down and stepping out of your dress, your lack of underwear making Yoongi’s jaw drop.

You arrived to dinner an hour later than anticipated.

                                                        **

Graduation came and went, your college entrance exam results coming in and making you shriek with joy. You called Yoongi with the good news, sadness dampening your mood as you told Yoongi’s answering machine to call you back, you had big news.

You couldn’t help the bitter tone that crept into your voice as he called you back four hours later. You laughed drily as he asked what was up and replied, “oh no biggie, I just got accepted into the college I wanted because it was closer to you.”

The accusation in your words was clear and Yoongi scoffed.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited about this.” 

You broke then, tears clogging your throat and making it hard to speak. You explained past the clump in your throat that you were so goddamn excited but you were scared of being closer to him.

“I mean, what if even with me a mere 30 minutes away you decide you want nothing to do with me?”

“Hey, hey Y/n shut up for a second and listen to me. If I haven’t already gotten tired of you, even with the stress of being so far apart with you and trying to manage my schedule, what makes you think I’m not going to want you by my side at all times when you get here?”

Sobs subsiding, you began talking about dorm life and how you’d have to sneak over to his place--the girls at your school wouldn’t keep quiet about seeing up-and-coming rapper Suga sneaking into a room.

Laughter echoed in your room, fingers playing with your hair as you listened to Yoongi get sleepier until his soft snores were all you heard.

                                                     **

Move-in day passed by in a blur of tears and sweat, your parents making you promise to call them at least once a week.

You settled into college surprisingly quickly, the routine helping things feel familiar in a strange place. Yoongi called less, saying their debut had been moved up and they were busier than ever. Yet he still found the time to send you sweet messages throughout the day, raising your mood just when you needed it the most.

Your first semester ended abruptly, affording you the opportunity to visit Yoongi and the rest of the group, something you were eager to do--you hadn’t seen Yoongi since your anniversary and that just wouldn’t do, no sir. 

Reading up on the group’s favorite colors and hobbies, you showed up at the dorms, arms full of gifts, and rang the doorbell with your elbow.

Guided into the building by Yoongi, you were struck again by his pale face and his pecan eyes that spoke volumes. He grabbed the gifts from you and dumped them to the floor, ignoring your protests.

Pulling you into him by the collar of your coat, your lips crashed against each other, heavy pants and mewls filling the entryway. A knock on the wall surprised the two of you and you broke apart, panting as you looked at boy around your age grimacing and gesturing to the two of you to get a room, god some people want to use the front door!

His permed hair looked like an afro and for a moment you wanted to laugh, but reigned it in at the last moment. Walking forward, your friendship with the group named Bangtan Sonyeondan began with a grimace and shouts of glee at your gifts.

                                                      **

The rest of your school year passed by uneventfully, Yoongi keeping up with his small, loving gestures even during their debut. How they had managed to be ready in such a short amount of time baffled you, but you knew Yoongi was behind it all, his drive and passion for music awe inspiring.

Your second anniversary rolled around and you kept it a small affair, the boys had been gaining a bit of attention and you were supposed to keep your relationship a secret from the world. It put you in an ill mood to pretend you weren’t hurt when Yoongi mentioned he had no time for dating, music and Bangtan all he had time for.

Try as you might, you couldn’t hide this from Yoongi, he knew you too well.

“Y/n, talk to me. I know something is bugging me and you know I hate it when you shut me out. Talk to me, please baby girl.”

Heaving a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, you fiddled with the strings on your torn jeans as you gathered the courage to speak your mind.

“I’mtiredofpretendingwearen’ttogetherYoongiI’mtiredofthis”

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’re tired of what?”

“This. I’m tired of hiding that we’re together. I mean I get that it’s important since you guys just started but it hurts seeing you talk about not having any time for dating or any inclination to do so.”

A sigh.

A very weary, annoyed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really wish it didn’t have to be this way either, but I have to do this if I want to stay in this path. I’m so close to my dream I could taste it, so please, bear with me okay? I promise it will turn out okay.”

You nod and tell him you have to go, the first tear streaking down your cheek as you mumble, “I love you too.”

                                                       **

For the first month after you spoke about your weariness, everything seemed fine. Yoongi still texted you, and he even skyped you sometimes.

And yet, you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling he was starting to feel differently.

At first, it was subtle. Not meeting your eyes when he told you he loved you, talking to the boys when you were connected, even walking away from the screen to answer the door for the pizza man.

You resolved to not be whiny about it, like you had been before. You would simply step up your game by sending him and the boys food while they filmed or renting that movie he has been blabbering about to Namjoon while you overheard through the screen. You pulled him into empty rooms when you visited, ignoring with all your might that he was barely responding to your touch.

What used to be a constant litany of groans, curses and your name, was now a grunt and a smirk. “I love you” become “love you” then a grunt when you said it first.

You felt as if you were being ripped apart from the inside out, the ache in your chest making it hard to breathe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, it fucking hurt and you were pissed that he was doing this to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it. 

You were scared of what he might say.

So instead you decided to take the easy way out--as if anything about this was easy--and make one last visit, choosing to part with the love of your life on amicable terms.

The dorms had been locked up and dark, a sign they were at the studio. You made your way over to it, repeating in your head what you planned on saying to Yoongi in your head as if memorizing a script. 

The elevator ride up to their floor was an agonizing one, your resolve crumbling once or twice only to strengthen when you remembered how empty his eyes looked when you kissed him. Walking into the studio, you noticed it was bare of any of them, so you settled onto the couch in Yoongi’s studio to wait.

A ding interrupted the stuffy silence, Yoongi’s phone chiming with a message.

From: Ji Hyo, 8:32 PM

Hey you. We still on tonight? I’m surprised you had time, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you :(

You stood up abruptly, the bottom of your stomach dropping out and leaving you feeling like you were a hollow shell. You turned to the door and froze, Yoongi standing between you and the exit.

“Wait, Y/n I can explain--”

“Explain what? That you have no time for your own girlfriend, but you have the time for a date with another woman?!”

He stood motionless, staring you down without an ounce of love in the eyes that once warmed and brightened at the sight of you.

Hurt and betrayal made your lips move of their own accord, your voice thick with the dam you were desperately trying to hold back.

“Looking back on it all, it’s funny actually.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, funny. Not ha-ha funny, but the weird, ironic funny.. You and I burned too brightly in the beginning, we were never going to last, I see that now. I just didn’t think we were going to end up here. It’s better this way Yoongi, we would have hurt each other much more than how you’re hurting me now. I’ll just go.”

Watching his shoulders droop as he accepted your decision put a crack into your already weak facade, if you didn’t leave soon he’d witness your complete and utter breakdown. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and pushed past him, fleeing for the comfort of your best friend’s arms, his whisper following you into the night.

“Good-bye, Y/n.”