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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Attached: Tied to You

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3330+760

Summary: Steve finally got to ask the question and you said yes. But having been sick, you didn’t really have a chance to celebrate… until now.

Warnings: nsfw, 18+ (if you’re a minor, don’t you dare), light bondage, hints of dom/sub, ‘babygirl’, oral (fem receiving), language (always) and you’ll see the rest, I guess (if you think it needs any other warning, lemme know)

A/N: Me: *Abandons the little she wrote of upcoming plot of this fic to write a damn smut.* Blame @chase-your-dreams-away and the support from the @sweetanon and @annathesillyfriend from a two days ago. Enjoy?

A/N.2: there’s a surprise at the end, sort of a bonus if you will, hence the +760.

Story masterlist

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You were pulled from blissful sleep by a tickly sensation on the crook of your neck, soft and little scratchy.

Your initial startle was soon soothed by a warm touch of lips and you relaxed again, sinking further into the cushions, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you sighed.

Steve’s lips trailed up the side of your neck to your ear, his hand on your belly gently caressing over the fabric of your sleepshirt.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he whispered to your ear, voice husky from sleep still and you couldn’t hope to hold the mewl that slipped past your lips at his tone. The warmth of the comforter mingled with the one Steve’s body was radiating; and the one swirling deep in your belly. That was how far that voice affected you. “How ya’ feelin?”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, nestling further into his embrace and he didn’t hesitate to pull you closer to his chest.

It gave you a perfect opportunity to feel a lot more than Steve’s body heat and your smile widened lazily at the morning occurrence.

“Words,” he muttered, daring fingers slipping under the hem of your top, caressing the bare skin under your navel lovingly.

“Warm. Safe.”

A huff of hot breath tickled your nape when he chuckled at your response. There was something delicious about that sound, something darker than pure amusement. Deft fingers travelled up your front, teasing the underside of your breast and your breath hitched.

“Wouldn’t count on the latter, babygirl,” Steve warned you lowly, unsubtly rutting against you from behind, causing the warmth in your core grown in intensity. “And I meant health-wise.”

You weren’t sure if the choked sound that escaped your lips was due to the cheeky flicker of Steve’s forefinger against your nipple or-

“Too early for big words.“

He stroked the peak firmly the time, causing it to perk up, sending a pleasant jolt to your spine.“Babygirl…”

Quick assessment had you decide that you actually felt… okay. Headache gone completely. You didn’t feel like you were about to sneeze in five seconds… and in ten seconds… and your nose wasn’t running. God bless.

If anything, you were feeling a bit too warm, but you didn’t think it was to be blamed on fever unless the fever was called Steve.

“Fine. I can breathe,” you informed him breathlessly, ironically enough. “Want something, Stevie?”

Rather than replying, he gently squeezed your nipple, his other hand sneaking between your hip and the mattress to toy with the waistband of your shorts. His beard moved to the tricky spot on your neck, sending a shudder through your body, blood in your veins set aflame.

It had been too long. First Steve was sick and then he got you sick—

Hands moving, one went to lavish your other breast with attention as the other slid under your shorts to your thigh, caressing the sensitive skin on its inside, painfully close to your centre, which was already growing slick.

Several days too long…

“Want you,” Steve murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder, hard evidence of his words rutting against the globes of your ass. “So much… saw you…”

You tried to roll over, confused at his remark, but he gripped your thigh tight, preventing your from moving.

“Saw me?” you whispered then, rocking your hips to create some friction for him since he was all hands on you while your options were limited.

“Uh-huh… cute white set, all lace, almost see-through,” he continued, one finger reaching your clothed pussy to tap the slit. You could feel him smile against your shoulder when he touched the damp fabric and your thighs jerked in response.

You weren’t ashamed… oh no. You could feel the air crackle with arousal, easily tuned to Steve’s mood. And you were rather horny, who were you kidding, but also intrigued. Was he… sharing a dream of his with you?

“…oh?” you sighed, chasing after the finger that went back to its original position, leaving you wanting more. Smug bastard.

“Had such a pretty garter for me too, right here.” He caressed the offending spot, the visual making you gulp; you knew how much he indulged in garters, alright. “Let me pull it down with my teeth once it was over… not in front of everyone, only once the guests left…”

Through the rising fog of arousal, you blinked your eyes open, realization dawning at you.

Oh. White set. Garter and teeth. Guests. Oh.

He dreamed of- your left thumb automatically touched your ring finger, reaching the warm metal band there. Your engagement ring. Steve dreamed about your wedding – or maybe rather about what came after.

Hands wandering again, he pushed your top up, his mouth, so pleasantly warm, accompanied by the well-loved feeling of his beard on your skin travelled down your spine, and as if on instinct, your back arched to give him better access.

An approving hum vibrated against your lower back, quick fingers tugging down your shorts and you went to kicked them as carefully as you could, Steve’s hands already busy once more, on your lower cheeks, on your thighs.

You swore you must have had a fever again, or maybe he did; his touch burned as he toyed with the thin string of your panties, kicking the already messed up comforter away completely.

“Wouldn’t lemme strip it in front of them,” Steve muttered, and you yelped silently when he unexpectedly rolled you to your back, pressing a kiss to your hip. “No, too shy, my pretty girl, sweet girl…”

You choked on your breath as he nosed at your weeping core, looking up to your face with half-lidded eyes. Jesus, who gave him the right to look so utterly irresistible so early in the morning? Eyes dark with lust, hair mussed in a perfect case of bed-hair--- and when did he lose the t-shirt?

Your hands finally came to life, reaching for his dark blond strands. His beard prickled against your most sensitive places as he kissed you over the fabric and blew cold air there right after.

You jolted at the bed, blood hushing in your ears. Christ. Such a cheeky shit. Sweet talker. Dirty talker.

“Steve,” you whined and tugged at his hair, a minute from begging him to do more. Ignorant to your unspoken plea, he grabbed your hips to keep you still, pressing another kiss where you needed him most – but with no clothes between you.

“But fuck, the things you let me do to you when we were alone…” he continued as if you didn’t say a word.

You knew it was a trap; it was obvious that he was baiting you. He was about to drive you mad, tuning the dirty talk up—and fuck, you were weak for his dirty talk, he knew that. Yet you still asked.

“What—what did I let you-do-“ you stuttered when he shifted and laid his forearm on your lower belly, using his free hand to push the panties aside and gave a kitten lick to your clit, causing your pussy to clench on nothing, sending a jolt hot want through your whole body. “Oh god-“

“Whatever I wanted, babygirl. Said yes to being mine… completely,” he said before delivering a few more tiny licks, making you squirm and uselessly tug at his hair some more.

Could you fight harder? Probably.

Did you want to? Really want to? Oh no. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were together long enough to know he was going to have you seeing stars before you could say ‘Professor Rogers’.

“Been so pretty and helpless and mine for taking…”

Oh. Oh, you were going there.

“Yes,” you breathed out before you could even think of it. Steve’s forearm dug into your hips at your swift consent, hungry eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah, babygirl? You’ll let me tie you up a bit? Have that hand with that pretty shiny ring where I can see it the whole time?”

You nodded feverishly, rewarded by his tongue running a solid strip up your slit and a self-satisfied grin radiating excitement. Oh you did not miss the flash in his eyes. He was gonna have you begging for it, you were sure.

But just hinting that a big part of this was his delight at being engaged, celebrating? You would let him tie you up more than a bit.

The warmth of his body disappeared for less than a minute as he was back in a record time, a tie in his hand.

“Kinky,” you noted with a considerably less cheek and more desire than you were willing to admit to anyone beside Steve. His eyebrows shot up in challenge, smirk curling his lips.

“I thought that was given. Be a good girl, take off that shirt and put your wrists together for me.”

And you did. The knot he tied was firm, but not painful; you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your face to check. He was sweet like that. Kinky, but very sweet, still your Steve. Your fiancé.

“Good girl,” he praised and you nearly came on spot when he kissed you, shamelessly and dirty, firm grip on your jaw, tongue exploring and giving you a taste of yourself. His teeth grazed your lower lip then, pulling at it a bit and you honestly thought you were gonna combust. “So pretty, so giving. Gonna make you feel good... future Mrs.Rogers.”

Alright, alright, that gave you an unfair thrill to hear him say it.

“Gonna eat you up, babygirl.”

You gulped as he flashed you another sinful smile, cheekily kissed your nose and your ring finger and proceeded to begin the sweetest torture you could imagine.

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You forgot how to breathe.

All you had the capacity to do was to whimper a pathetic please, barely audible as it drowned in the faint buzzing you felt in in the marrow of your bones, driving you crazy with need. All you could think of was the vibrations tickling your core, feeding the searing heat in your abdomen, mercilessly pushing you towards your third peak.

First, Steve had you fall apart on his tongue alone.

Second, those skilful fingers played you like he was a musician and you were his favourite instrument.

And then he was gone and you thought he was gonna finally strip completely and fuck you into the mattress, but no. He came back with a toy which you basically forgot you had, because, well, you had the real thing and Steve asked to bring the item to your activities very rarely.

The setting was on low, so torturously low and driving you mad as Steve only dragged it up and down your sli,t barely nudging your opening, but so so sweetly, encouragements and praises whispered in your ears, sloppy kisses dropped to various parts of your body… how could you say no? You might have had a safeword, but why would you use it when Steve was taking such a good care of you?

“Look at me babygirl. Let me see you, one more time,” Steve’s voice seemed to reach your ears from immense distance. Yet, you obeyed, eyelids heavy. Steve’s eyes welcomed you, shining with satisfaction as he watched you tremble on the verge of another orgasm. “So pretty for me. Give it to me.”

You weren’t in control of your own body anymore. You felt the vibration turn up a notch and the toy moving to your clit and you were a goner, eyes falling shut again in bliss – you would swear your vision turned white for several moments, Steve’s mouth swallowing your moans as his body covered yours, removing the device.

You reciprocated the kiss weakly, hips bucking against Steve’s, vaguely aware of his hard, which must have been painful at that point – but at least he was finally naked too. Your hands felt like made of lead as he reached to release them. They landed on his arms on instinct, shaking a bit as you frantically tried to map Steve’s marvellous body, having been missing the opportunity for what felt like forever.

He grunted to your mouth when you stroked his cock, gently swatting your hand away, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, nibbling on your lower lip, on your jaw. “So pretty for me when you lost it, wish I’ve recorded it. You feelin’ okay, babygirl?”

It felt so surreal to have him talk like that and being turned on just as you came down from the out-of-body experience he gifted you. Even more surreal was his question – as if you could not be.

“So okay, Stevie. You have no idea,” you managed to whisper, fingers slipping into his hair to pull him for another kiss. He gave in, greedily taking all you had to offer, hand kneading your breast, brushing an awfully sensitive nipple.

“Can you still take me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flew open, staring at him at shock. Was he—was he suggesting that after all that, you were gonna leave him aching? Well, not necessarily, there were other ways, but—Jesus, you loved this man. So filthy and yet so sweet. Did you make him up? Was this some ever-lasting dream?

Then again, he kinda had a point when you thought about it.

“Yes. Yes, Jesus, Steve. I’m just not sure I can--eh, you know. Three’s a lot already,” you admitted, slightly ashamed as you stared into his eyes, the blue of his irises practically swallowed by his dilated pupils. You didn’t think you ever came more than three times. Not that anyone ever tried to make you. “But I want you inside me.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you, babygirl.”

Tired smile spreading on your lips at his lingering hesitation, you cradled his face, looking him straight in the eye.

“I trusted you so far-“

“And it means a lot to me-“

“I love you,” you continued, but he interrupted you again, the sweet dork.

“I love you too, so much.“

Oh, the feeling was mutual. But that was not the point at the moment, as sweet as the sentiment was.

“But if you don’t use my cunt to get off right now, I’m gonna-“

The choked sound erupting from his throat was quickly followed by his large hand grabbing your jaw and shutting you up with a brutal kiss, punching the air straight out of your lungs. Somehow, you still found room to grin into it; that was what he got for dating a woman who wrote porn about him before they were even introduced.

“Mouthy. Such a bad girl,” he growled against your neck, the swollen head of his cock coating in the generous amount of slick between your legs.

“Am I? Thought I was being a good girl for my future husband… willing, ready for tak-“

He pushed into you in one swift movement and the teasing died in your throat, mouth forming a breathless ‘o’. No matter how many times you were together, he always filled you up so good. And now, not dragging it out and stretching your sensitive walls all at once—yeah, you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Steve too panted above you, getting used to the sensation as he finally slid home and bottomed out.

He recovered quickly; and he didn’t bother with words anymore, his appreciation reduced to grunts and moans as drove into you. His hands slipped under your ass and he angled your hips to his liking, giving a few slow, deliberately deep thrusts. Much to your surprise, you felt the coil in your belly forming again as his tip kissed your cervix.

And then his hands disappeared, from under your body, finding your wrists and pinning them next to your head, making you gap —and he took you. Hard and fast, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, his pubic bone hitting your clit as he pistoned into you, causing your body to climb towards your fourth high in a speed of light. His eyes bore into yours and had you had the capacity to think beyond the drag of his thick length along your walls, you’d be touched at the way his eyes flickered to your left hand occasionally.

It hit you without warning; a faint flutter in your core, barely there, but you felt in all the way to your fingertips as you squeezed him, a breathless Steve falling from your lips.

“Fuck-- FUCK, baby--- you’re-“ he choked out incoherently, fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists as you milked his cock. And then he was gone, leaving you feeling unfairly empty.

Like a rag doll, still stunned that he actually made you come four times and made your bones feel like turned into jello, he flipped you over to your belly and grabbed your hips, driving home once more, setting a downright punishing pace, going faster than before even if you had thought it wasn’t possible.

The last few thrusts were bordering on painful, your body entirely spent and not able to accommodate him anymore, but the sting was soon soothed by the sensation of his cum painting your walls, a guttural sound of pleasure escaping him. You eased your grip on the sheets, breathless as he drove into you slowly, dragging out his orgasm.

His left hand found yours, fingers interlacing. It was when you realized there were a few tears rolling down your cheeks, but you weren’t hurting – except for in your chest, huge amount of affection for this dirty loveable man swelling near your heart.

He stayed inside you as he softened and he fell to his forearms, sticky and warm mass covering you like a blanket, wet kiss landing on your shoulder. You turned your head to side with a goofy smile, searching his lips and he complied, kissing you gently, all heat gone.

The kiss tasted of salt of your sweat, but you couldn’t care less, actually giggling when you realized what just happened – and the fact you had troubles catching your breath seemed like the most amusing thing in the world to you at the moment.

“What’s funny?” Steve muttered as he nuzzled to your neck, fingers squeezing yours.

You rested your head on one cheek so he could see you grinning. “Nothing. I just really love you, Professor Rogers.”

He groaned, feeling that his cock most definitely twitched at the addressing. “Don’t start, babygirl.”

You giggled again, endorphins overflooding your system. You were just… truly happy. Euphoric. In the arms of a man whom you loved with your whole heart (and body) and you were about to marry him. And he just made you come four times. What was not to love?

You winced when he slipped out, which drew a quick and honest sorry from him and earned you a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just-“

“Nope, you stay,” you pleaded and made weak grabby hand on him despite the sensation of his seed leaking out of you. You were due to changing the sheets anyway, what more harm could it do? “We both need to clean up. Might as well get the post-orgasmic cuddles before we do.”

Steve chuckled, falling back into bed, pulling you close, chest to chest.

“Is that even a thing?” he teased you.

“You tell me. You were the one who was dropping words like health-wise at like… what is the time anyway?”

“Who cares, it’s Sunday,” Steve muttered, hand sneaking between your intertwined bodies, dipping two fingers into the fluid on your inner thigh, mindful of being gentle when he dragged it up and pushed it back into your pussy, causing your breath to hitch.

So fucking filthy he was, your future husband.

“Kinky,” you remarked half-heartedly, nuzzling into his chest, feeling his grin in your hair.

“You love it.”

You hummed in agreement, kissing his collarbone. “I love you. Which is why I said yes.”

He reached for your jaw to angle your head and catch your lips in a kiss, loving and nothing like the ones he was stealing from you just moments ago. He was grinning like a loon, genuine joy all over his face.

“That you did, babygirl. That you did.”

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When you finally emerged from the bed, your stomach was growling, everything was aching – not like flu-aching, a pleasant ache –, you were sticky, but entirely content until a terrible realization hit you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, planting your ass back on the bed.

Steve shot you a look of concern – and amusement – and went to crouch in front of you, his hands engulfing yours. He didn’t forget to indulgingly caress the ring in the process.

“What’s wrong? What hurts, sweetheart?”

“My brain.”

“Your brain?” he chuckled curiously and you couldn’t but pout at him. But on the inside, you were barely holding back laughter too, at the ridiculous scene; since you had both headed to the bathroom to clean up, you were still completely naked and you imagined it must have looked like Steve was Adam about to propose to Eve.

“Yes! I go back to school tomorrow? I haven’t told anyone besides Penny!”

“I mean, Bucky knows,” Steve offered with a shrug. “Sam does too… maybe he told Tony?”

Your eyebrow shot up.

“Oh, so all staff knows? Dandy. But I didn’t even tell my parents yet…” you whispered, actually troubled. You had no intention whatsoever to tell you father just so he could call a to-be married whore or something, but maybe he did deserve to know. Your mum certainly did. “Well, my mum at least.”

You expected a cheeky comment. Maybe a comforting touch. But Steve just stared at your collarbone and… blushed, the tips of his ears turning red. You frowned.

“Steve?”

He shifted nervously, gaze flickering to yours before he bit the inside of his cheek. What was going on in his head?

“Eh, I, look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” It’s like pulling teeth, for god’s sake. “She… uhm, she kinda already knows.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you blurted out and chuckled, because… what? No, she didn’t. How would she- “…Steve?”

There was no denying the intense crimson colour in his cheeks. But at least he looked you in the eye like a man and made a confession.

“I told her. Texted her the same day you said yes, because… eh, she kinda knew I was gonna propose since we met in November, because apparently, I am that obvious, but when she told me I am, she also gave me her blessing, so… yeah. That.“

With every word, your jaw was falling lower and lower, your heartbeat picking up pace. What the hell was he talking about?!

“Whoa, whoa- my mum knew you were gonna propose? And she—oh. Oh. That’s… okay, I think?” you said, uncertainty lacing your voice. It was a lot to process, but… you guessed it wasn’t anything bad.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back, I’m sure you wanted to tell her yourself, but I was just so happy and-“

“Hold on a second!” you blurted out, horrified when everything finally clicked. “So my mum knows we’re engaged for days,” you emphasized, feeling all blood draining from your face. The glare you shot Steve could kill; at least he had the decency to look guilty and wordlessly begged for forgiveness. Damn his puppy eyes! “So she knows I kept it from her for DAYS!”

“I guess?” Steve hummed innocently, slowly rising to his feet and withdrawing as he saw the flames in your eyes.

And oh, he knew why. You grabbed a pillow and hit his bare thigh with it, somehow all furious, horrified, utterly amused and content at the fact that your mum already knew and approved and she really liked Steve and--- but still!

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, you little SHIT! She’s never gonna let me live this down!”

“Sorry, babygirl!” Steve just threw over his shoulder as he ran to the bathroom, you fast on his heels. You managed to catch up before he closed the door.

“You better spoil me with a bubble bath, professor Rogers, otherwise the little friend you used to get me off for the third time will replace you for foreseeable future!”

Steve gasped, pretending to be deeply offended. “You don’t mean that!”

“Oh, I do. Try me.”

A slow devilish grin spread on his face and he stalked to you, bending to whisper in your ear, already making you feel hot all over again, helpless against his stupid charms.

“Aw, babygirl… I’d like to see you try. In fact…” he muttered as he dropped a kiss to your temple, to your cheek, to your jaw, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip and up your waist, squeezing as you could just stand there and take it, focusing to breathe. “I’d be right there to watch.”

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Words Whispered in the Dark* (next in timeline)

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

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…can engagement ring be considered a kink? Should I like… tag that?😄

If you went to read this knowing me for a while and didn’t expect it to have at least a little bit of fluff in it, you should know better by now 😘

Please, if you have something really harsh to say, don’t. You have no idea how much I was pep-talking myself into posting this rather than hiding it forever, because I feel like I need a bath in holy water every time I write/post smut. Though I’m kinda proud of the last lines of bonus 😄

Thank you for reading 💗

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desthesleepdeprivedwriter · 4 years ago

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Book #4

18 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days.

That was the time Fundy spent away from what used to be his home.

He did his best to not look, to just come back and focus on his past relationships, trying to reconnect with his last family member and former friends. Fundy just wanted to be good, feel welcomed, and part of something again.

It took him 3 hits, the fox once again staring at his destroyed dirt building, to understand the message. He wasn’t wanted there.

Fundy packed what was left, holding his enderchest close, and walked away from the cabin that stood in the middle of the snow. He wished he wasn’t crying, his tears slowly freezing just brought a sharp pain on his cheeks. The Nether, for the first time, felt like a blessing as the hellish heat warmed his shivering body.

There was this weird thing about Fundy, whenever he was lost in thoughts, his body just made the decisions for him. His feet wandered to wherever they wanted as if they were the ones on command when the brain was too busy focusing on problems and pain. The hands were still keeping the enderchest safe during the journey across the red plains and ghast explosions.

Walk, walk, walk. Netherrack, stone brick, obsidian, wood, grass.

Nothing.

Fundy was pulled back from his gloomy thoughts as he fell in the crater, the sudden lack of floor leaving him dazed. He managed to fall in one of the waterfalls, still hitting the bedrock with a painful thump.

He cried to himself, getting on his knees and looking around so he could at least know where the fuck he had fallen into. Fundy felt all his body going numb as he saw the big flag. He was back home. The red vines took over, and the fox did the best to avoid it when he turned his back to it and climbed all the way back. When at the top, his feet didn’t obey him.

He just wanted to leave, but he walked around the crater and climbed what used to be a hill, and crossed the arc that used to have a door. Fundy stood there, in the middle of his destroyed house. First, the bombing sounds. They were loud and made Fundy cover his ears trying to escape it, escape his own memories. Then…. He heard water.

Fundy looked around and almost could remember how his house used to be. The crane right next to it, the wishing well… and the sewers.

He stared at the destroyed hill and the big hole that took the place of his dead father’s house, sitting at its edge. Nothing was saved. The declaration, the diary, the ballot… Gone. All their history just completely…

There was a chest.

Right there, partially burned and destroyed, but still firmly stuck between 3 rocks, almost impossible to see unless for this specific angle. Fundy slowly built his way to reach it, mining the rock that kept the chest closed and cracking it open. Just 4 books were hidden there, and Fundy knew 2 of them really well. Both the diary and Ghostbur’s memories felt heavy in his hands, he knew all the words there almost entirely. The other was a strange one, filled with a tale he never heard about, telling stories of an empire that Fundy quickly dismissed.

The last one was deep in the chest, making Fundy almost enter it so he could get it. I was dusty, and clearly with a lot of use. The fox didn’t remember about this one, maybe it was the last one Ghostbur managed to get before the explosion. Fundy opened it, out of curiosity, and felt a shiver go down his spine.

The writer was clearly desperate when they put their thoughts on the paper. The scribbles were messy, some even escaping lines and being written diagonally. Some were drafting over other phrases and some parts were just unreadable, covered by a big ink stain. Fundy wasn't even sure if it was English, the 'letters' looking more like hieroglyphs than the normal alphabet. How did Ghostbur find this? Fundy flipped more pages, finally getting to a page there was something he could read.

“DO NOT FORGET”

Fundy’s heartbeat gets faster as he reads the last word. He put his enderchest right next to the one chest he was looking in, searching for his photo album. He quickly passed through an old family photo, he and Niki as kids, everyone posing under the L’manberg flag… He and Ranboo in front of the ice cream stall they’d built for the festival. Fundy flipped the photo, seeing the two phrases written behind it.

“Can’t live without you, Ranboo”

“I can’t forget Fundy :)”

The man aligned both ‘forget’s, comparing them.

Same calligraphy.

Ranboo wrote this book.

Fundy just read everything he could, having a hard time trying to understand what was possible to be understood. There was stuff about memory, enderwalkers, and he was almost sure he saw something about Doomsday. Fundy was quick in leaving the crater, holding the book while running his way back to the snow biome. He needed to ask about this, and he wanted answers.

In the end, he didn’t need to cross the entire nether. Ranboo was right next to Tommy’s house, staring at a couple of flowers.

“Ranboo!” Fundy called, rushing towards his (former?) friend. “Ranboo, I have this… Damn, I need you to-”

Ranboo turned, and Fundy was frozen.

He could still breathe, his chest moving as his breath started to become erratic. His ears were pressed on top of his head, his tail all puffy as his animal instincts took over and kept telling him to run, but his legs were stuck, and he could only watch as the tall figure walked in his direction.

That was not his Ranboo.

The static noises got louder as it approached Fundy, still staring in the eyes of the terrified fox. It inclines and sets a shadow over him, one hand moving and picking up the book Fundy was still holding by his side.

“⏁⊑⏃⋏☍ ⊬⍜⎍ ⎎⍜⍀ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏚⍜⍜☍, ⟟ ⍙⏃⌇ ⌰⍜⍜☍⟟⋏☌ ⎎⍜⍀ ⟟⏁.”

It opened a smile, teleporting away right after and leaving a terrified fox behind, shivering and paralyzed as he stood in between the various alliums surrounding him.

Support/commission me here!

#commission #dream smp #writing #enderspeak #:]#fundy #ranboo

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hey-there-juliet · 4 years ago

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Random Drabble Day (2/23)

Summary: First off, let me just say that this is more like a one-shot than a drabble because I'm a wordy bitch and I cannot control myself 😅

That said, I always had a hard time imagining Julie writing some of the Perfect Harmony's lyrics about herself, so I thought why not make this just another song that Luke and Julie wrote together? This is set somewhere between Finally Free and Edge of Great, in that week when Ray was stress-eating. This is supposed to fit back into the show at the end, so it might seem like a cliffhanger, but it's not.

Quick shout out to @jamestkirkish for betaing this for me! I love you and you are amazing! Any remaining mistakes are my own. And to the fabulous Sloan, for helping me out with Luke's handwriting! Enjoy 🧡

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Relationship: Juke 💜

in the great scheme of life and ghosts

No matter how many times Luke insisted that she had been snooping through his things, Julie knew for a fact that she had done no such thing. In reality, she had simply been cleaning the studio when she came across it.

For three ghosts who didn't eat and could barely even touch anything most of the time, the boys sure knew how to make a mess. Every morning Julie would walk into the studio to find the chairs or coffee table rearranged, at least one of the rugs was always askew, and the clothes... the clothes were everywhere, and the worst part was: they reeked.

And so every morning before leaving for school Julie would shoot them a stern look and tell them to pick up after themselves. Which they did - when she got back home, things were mostly in their rightful place. Still, every weekend Julie would make sure to take a moment away from homework and rehearsal to tidy the place up to perfection, just like her mom liked it. She'd dust off the furniture, water the plants, sweep the floor, and even vacuum the whole place. One Saturday when she was home alone (her dad photographing a wedding, and Carlos at a friend's house), she even went through the trouble of washing all of the guys' old clothes.

Somehow, and she didn't even want to think about how that worked, the clothes didn't stink when they were actually wearing them, but at any other moment when they made no contact with their skin? Yeah... not good. So she washed them all (three times, using every trick and product she had). She washed them a fourth time for good measure and, by the time she was finished, any traces of twenty-five year old mold was gone, and so was the smell.

So no, she was not snooping - no matter what Luke said - when she came across the crumpled paper ball between the couch and the low cabinet, just behind a big vase her mom had gotten from tía Victoria.

Julie sighed, making a mental note to tell Luke to put his discarded ideas in the bin (again) if he didn't want them anymore, when one scribbled and wrinkled word caught her attention: Perfect Ha-

She bit her lip, staring down at the teasing word. Perfect what? Was it lyrics? Maybe half formed ideas? Doodles? Julie knew Luke liked to doodle in the margins of his notebook whenever he got stuck trying to come up with the next best piece of lyric or melody. She also knew she should probably just leave it alone, put it with his stuff to ask him later if he wanted to keep it, or put it in the garbage. Except the more she glanced down at that damn word, the stronger she felt it pull her towards uncovering whatever else the crumpled paper ball was hiding.

In the end, the pull was too strong. She'd just take a quick look, make sure it wasn't anything important before she threw it away. And, she reasoned with herself, trying to squish the guilt that was making itself known in the pit of her stomach: Luke had gotten rid of it, so he clearly didn't care much for whatever was in there.

Not able to resist any longer, Julie carefully unfolded the paper, slowly making her way towards the piano and using its surface as a table to help smooth the page over.

Luke's (horrendous) handwriting covered it with the bare bones of a song, random lines were scribbled in the margins with a couple of doodles for company, and even a little note from their bassist - ‘Reggie was here ;)’.

It took her a minute before the chicken scratches became words, and then Julie's breath left her in a rush, as the guilty feeling in her stomach turned into butterflies and flew away with her imagination.

It was a song, parts of one, anyway, and - more importantly - it was a love song.

Unprompted, her own words came back to her, "Wow, Luke! I didn't know you were such a romantic." Quickly followed by Alex's short reply, "He's not."

She knew now who Unsaid Emily was really about, but these new words were clearly about a different kind of love. The romantic kind, and Julie couldn't help letting herself believe - just for a moment - that the song might be about her.

Before she could let herself be carried away in a daydream, there was a - now familiar - shift in the air, a sound almost like static, the only thing letting her know of a ghost's appearance. Without a thought, she crumpled the page again and shoved the paper ball in her pocket for later inspection.

"Hey, Julie!" Reggie's cheerful greeting sounded across the studio from where he had poofed in, and soon - with his "help," bless him - Julie was finished with her weekend clean up.

As if summoned by the end of her chores, Luke poofed in, ready to rehearse. Alex soon followed; and by the time Julie retired for the night, the song had been almost forgotten where it hid inside her pocket.

Almost.

***

After getting ready for the night, Julie settled on her bed with the wrinkled page and her dreambox. She read over the words again and again, imagining they were about her.

Step into my world,

Bittersweet love story about a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel,

I've never heard before,

You and me together, it's more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I hold your music

Here inside my hands

You are my brightest burning star

We create Perfect Harmony.

And unless Luke had been singing with another girl, there didn't seem to be many options on who it could be about, right?

From the beginning, Julie had felt something connecting her to him; to all of them, in different ways. But Luke had been the one to give her a little piece of his soul right after meeting her when he let her use Bright to earn back her spot in the music program. Seeing his passion reflecting back on her, the way he treated music like she used to, made her miss it more than anything for the first time in almost a year. It made her miss the way it felt to use music to connect with her mom.

After they spent a whole weekend finishing each other's songs and working on new ones, getting to know each other's inner workings - the part of them that bled out feelings into paper to create beautiful melodies, Julie knew she was a goner. Finding out he'd been the one to write the words that shaped her taste in rock certainly didn't help. Like he'd been helping her find her way to music long before they even met.

Her crush on him had been inevitable from the start, and while falling for him was probably one of the worst things she could’ve done, it was too late to stop it. She'd been free falling for a while, and hopefully she'd land in his arms soon enough. Reading over his words again gave Julie a warm fluttering in her stomach that made her think he was more than ready to catch her once she reached the ground.

Carefully folding the piece of paper, she put it inside her dreambox, then placed the box back on the shelf.

***

The following week went by without any hiccups. Every once in a while, Julie would remember Luke's song and a familiar warmth would fill her up, leaving a soft smile on her lips and glazed eyes staring off at nothing. Just as often, Flynn would have to shake her out of her daydreams.

She didn't think much would come of it until her dad decided to throw the band a party so he could film them and post their video on YouTube. Which was fine. Amazing, even. It was most certainly great! Until Luke came to the school, staring at her with his stupid, beautiful, awed eyes, and with his soft, perfect smile, saying things that made her combust and melt, all at the same time.

"I think you make me a better writer."

"I think we make each other better."

Calling Nick 'Luke' was bad enough, but slipping into a complete musical sequence as she danced with him? "Goner" didn't even begin to describe her.

Like the other times they'd written together, the lyrics flowed through her, finishing the song he'd started with the same ease as one would take a breath.

Julie knew that whatever was going on between her and Luke couldn't happen or, if it did, it couldn't last. In fact, in the great scheme of life and ghosts, she didn't know much, but what she did know was that - be it in life or in death - love was constant.

He didn't need to have a heartbeat or to be able to touch her for her to love him. He was just as real to her as the next person, and whether it would hurt in the long run or not, it didn't matter.

She knew Flynn was only looking out for her, but that ship had sailed, and Julie was already so lost in his ocean eyes that avoiding eye contact wasn't going to bring it back. She would entertain her though, even knowing it wouldn't work. Just like the tide, eventually he'd pull her right back in.

She could love him just as he was, for however long they had together, and especially after that.

End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it! And, if you'll notice, at the beginning it kind of gives off the impression that Luke eventually finds out about the song and Julie tells him how she found it. Which may or may not lead you to believe that they're in a relationship. I guess it all depends on interpretation though ;)

Oh, also! Shout out to the chaos squad folks that guessed right! You guys are no fun :( /j lmao

#RDD #23 by 23 challenge #fanfic #mine #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jukebox #julie x luke #fic recs

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matovilka · 3 years ago

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"Shapes In The Ice" - old Planescape stuff

I wrote this Planescape fluff for old D&D forums I frequented in early 2000s, and found the file as I was cleaning my disk. Do what you will with this.

Shapes In The Ice

It's been a year since his mentor was lost in Gehenna, and young Arvandor was on his second expedition without his mentor. Last time, he was in Gray Waste, and in Gehenna, looking for his teacher. He didn't find him. Whatever happened to him, there was no trail left to follow, and no spell however powerful it was, could locate him. Arvandor lost all hope three months ago, while escaping a party of 'loth soldiers on the slopes of Mungoth.

This time, he was chasing one of those mythic shapes in the ice, deep in the cold Cania. He always thought Hell was hot, justifying the term "hot as Hell". And now he saw he was going to have to pay off some debts, as the "Hell has frozen over". Life couldn't be more miserable at this point. Well, it could, seeing how greedy local officials were. Luckily, the contract was pretty solid, with very few loopholes they could use.

Their camp was on a large glacier, far from Mephistar and the Pit, constantly protected from the penetrating cold by magic. Very expensive magic. Arvandor was getting more and more frustrated by every day that was spent on this freezing place, so deep in Hell that they were almost at the bottom. Expenses for protection from cold, supplies, permissions from and kickbacks to various devil clerks, lords, guards... it was all taking a toll on his budget, and unless they managed to drill into that glacier soon, and extract that shape, they would all have to pack, and leave until they managed to get more funding (and all of the permits) again. He almost wished he was back in the Wastes; at least he didn't care about much there.

After almost two months of digging through the hardest ice, so old it was not possible to reliably date it, they were only dozens of feet from the first shape - a winged humanoid. It seemed there were two more shapes in there, one more that was most probably winged, also, and another that was only a large blot. At the current rate, in two, maybe three days, they would be able to extract the first fossil.

Arvandor was at the dig site almost all the time, and he ordered the diggers to work around the clock, with three of his assistants constantly monitoring their progress, and making sure that they wouldn't destroy anything. With every minute passing, he was getting more excited, and more nervous. He couldn't wait till they dug it out.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, a block of ice, with first shape, was ready to be carried out of the tunnel. It seemed to encase a very tall humanoid, with feathery wings. It seemed to be frozen in the middle of combat, one hand gripping a large sword, and another pointing in what could be interpreted as arcane gesture. The block was carried to the camp, into one of the buildings erected from solid ice blocks, reinforced with more magic. Additional guards were put up, not the local devils, but modrons specially contracted out from Mechanus. Arvandor hoped that they would live up to their reputation of keeping their contracts true.

For the first day, Arvandor and scientists brought from their headquarters in Elysium were working on measuring, quantifying, sketching, and recording all that could be recorded. On the next day, they started to thaw out the creature, real, real slow. In the meantime, diggers were making their way to the second form. They would need to dig for three, or more, days until they reached it. And the form beyond it would be reached in a week, unless there were, powers forbid, problems.

On the third day, almost all of the ice was melted around from the first form. Most, but not all - some of it was preserved magically, and already sent to headquarters for further tests. The sword was already put aside, a magnificent large greatsword, obviously magical. A composite longbow was also found, but its string was broken, and there were no arrows to be found. Both weapons were put in special cases, preserved in stasis until they were transported to a better equipped laboratory.

Upon even a superficial examination, it was confirmed - it was a solar. It was a suspicion for the last few days, but it could not be confirmed while it was under ice. And now, it was plainly evident - golden skin, and pearly white wings. Everyone was excited, for it was a mystery what an angel was doing so deep in Hell, and more mysteriously - why was it frozen, being known that solars were immune to cold. The solar's flesh was hard as a rock, and terribly cold.

With use of magic, slow thawing of the frozen solar was started, while Arvandor went to supervise the final cuts around the second form. From all visible clues, it was evident that it was a devil, and most likely a pit fiend. This started to form an image in his mind - an ancient battle of good and evil, happening aeons before men walked the planes. Within hours, the devil was freed, and the block was carried to another building, to be processed similarly to the solar. But, now, as there were a fiend and a solar, Arvandor decided to erect even more magical barriers for protection. Around each building was set a circle preventing any evil aligned creature from entering or leaving, which was almost assuredly an insult to any devil that will come to check on them, and a circle that will prevent any good aligned creature from leaving or entering, which will make it harder for them to work on the fossils. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

At the time when solar was defrosted all the way, and his flesh was soft, fiend was also freed from ice, and there was yet another problem - it's aura of fear kicked in. More expenses on the magic part were needed. But this meant that the fiend might still be alive, only frozen. And more good news was coming from the dig site - the third shape was almost ready to be transported to the camp. But there was no clue as to what it was.

In the morning when they brought the third block into the camp (and some workers were left back to see if there were some more items to be found), solar opened its eyes. Which scared Arvandor's assistant into developing a grey streak of hair on his temple.

At first, solar was disoriented, confused, and very aggressive, until it realized that it was not in combat any more. Then it passed out again, and stayed unconscious for the next twelve hours. Pit fiend was still solidly frozen, but he was not as cold any more. He was warming up.

In the morning, solar woke up, and asked about his location, and general information. It couldn't tell with certainty how old it was, but from his tales, and events it told about, it was obviously from when multiverse was still young. From what it could be understood (it spoke an ancient language that even magic had trouble translating), Cania was not even part of Hell back then. During all the time, it constantly complained how cold it was, even though there was a roaring fire, and almost unbearable heat filled the room.

Then... it remembered the combat it was in, and freaked out completely. Those that never saw an angel in a murderous rage are blessed. It probably hasn't regained all of its strength, for it hasn't managed to break out of the building. They had to use specially prepared items to put the solar into stasis for time being, until they could at least put up some force fields that would hold it in.

The noise, for it was heard across the entire area of the camp, probably woke up the fiend, but they were prepared for him. Force walls and binding circles were in place, and fiend soon realized that there was no point. It shivered constantly, and asked for more heat. It asked for more even after they set a permanently enchanted firewall inside his prison. Eons of cold don't get out of bones easily.

Fiend constantly asked about its location and what happened to the enemy. Translation magic was also needed, and it didn't work very well, either. At first, Arvandor thought it was asking about the solar, but even with faulty translations, there was something wrong about that. And another thing was that it was a completely new type of devils. Or, a completely different old type would be more accurate.

It took an entire day until they calmed down the solar, another one until they managed to get it to answer more questions. From what it could be gotten out, solar didn't like the fiend much, but it wasn't its enemy. The third creature was. That presented a problem. The third creature was defrosted, and extensive studies were made on it. It seemed to be dead, and completely alien - a formless blob, with a strong psionic and magical residue field on it. The biggest problem was how to prevent it from spilling out of the container it was in, and how to cut it - it was resilient to all forms of blades, even magical ones.

From combined stories of fiend and angel, it seems that they were chasing the thing for a long time, across many planes - or layers, cause multiverse was a bit different there - before catching it up on Cania, which was a lush tropic paradise back then, and in what could be considered upper planes. The battle itself seemed to last for years, with fiend and angel trying many tactics and strategies, and always failing - until the angel and devil made a pact, and used their abilities to make wishes. They decided that if they can't kill it, they will capture it in ice for an eternity.

But fate has a mean streak, and combined wish was seriously perverted and deformed. What started as a block of ice large enough to encase the thing soon started to grow uncontrollably and encased fiend and angel into the prison made for a thing. Getting the details took all day, and it was promising to upset a lot of historians.

It is not known what happened during the following night, but angel, fiend, and creature, all disappeared in a titanic battle that left most of the camp vaporized, and only a dozen people alive. Modrons on guard of the creature's building were found melted, almost a mile away, but the force fields in which the creature was kept, and anti-magic field inside were untouched. In other buildings, there was nothing left, save for solar's sword and bow, which were polished to a perfect shine, with no marking visible, and no magic left.

Arvandor retreated from the public, and never went to the field again. There are rumors that he is in a home for the befuddled, somewhere deep in Elysium, locked away for his own good.

Last thing his companions heard him say was "... hunger incarnate... devourer of worlds... save us all... mercy on us...", and then he screamed himself unconscious.

#roleplaying #rpg #planescape #dungeons & dragons #dungeons&dragons #dungeons and dragons #d&d

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catthegreat123 · 3 years ago

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From life to death, from the last to the first

In the beginning there was only yesterday, ruled by fifteen gods.

These gods grew in strength and even more with the want to create.

So the first Ą̸̡̨̛̭͎̲̪͔̜͖̰̱̜̘͇̹͚͓͍͚̼̗̦̯̬̞͔͓̣̘͖̥̘̱̩̯̃̋̏̉̔͋͋̒̀͛̑̽͒̌̄̐̀̇͊̍̓̊́̽͌̒͗̇̒̈̅͘̚͘͝͠͠͝ͅl̷̨̛̜̺͙̤̘͆͑̆̈̇̃̊̀̽͂̔̀͑̎͆̔̀̅̂͂̌̉͒͆͗̍̆̋͊̚̕̕̕͘ͅl̵̨̛̛̦͍̥̅̈̓͒̐̎̾̅͂̌̃̊͆̅̌̊̉̔́̆͊̓͐͆̀͒̀̓̅͛̒̋͛͆͘̕̚̚͘͠͠m̴̛̲̟̳̪̱̻̰̞̪̲̯̺̉̂̔̍͑̌̈́̓̽̉̾̀̌͐̍͑́͊̾͊̈́̇̈̏͌̅͊͘̕͝͝͝o̷̧̧̡̧̢͖̤̹̩̼͉̩̭̾̌̒̉̀̾̅̐́́̏̓͌̍̑̓́̈́͛̑͒̓͊̓̂̔̕͘͜͝͠͠ẗ̷̡̢̜̬̺̮͕̬͖̹͎̪͓͉̳̳̮͕́̈́͋̇̚̚͜h̷̛̥̖̬̜̘̼͎̣̟͚̯͙͉̱̥̦̥̭̀̌͑̈́͛̐͗̈́̕͜͝͝ͅe̶̢̢̢̛͇̰̟̦̦͎̟̪̱̭̘̹͕̫͈̜̮͈̰̞̬͊̒̄̈̉̋̋̅̔̉̅̊̈́̎̀͐̌͛͋͛͗̑͌̂̈̊̎̓̆͗̃͂̽̍̕̕̚͝͝͠͝͠͝ŗ̵̧̢̨̧̡͙̥̼̯̣̭͕̙͖̗͉̣͙̫̫̜͕͍̜̟̣̻̪̱̘͕̗̰̦̜̮̝͖̞̖͇͈̤͔̻͊̌̓̂͜ͅͅͅs̸̨̧͓͈̳̩͚̑͌̋̆̑͋̈́͂̈́̀̾̒͑͘̕ were created.

They breathed life into a distorted growing world, a vast landmass emerging in their wake. The fifteen gods who created land and sea.

The Ą̸̡̨̛̭͎̲̪͔̜͖̰̱̜̘͇̹͚͓͍͚̼̗̦̯̬̞͔͓̣̘͖̥̘̱̩̯̃̋̏̉̔͋͋̒̀͛̑̽͒̌̄̐̀̇͊̍̓̊́̽͌̒͗̇̒̈̅͘̚͘͝͠͠͝ͅl̷̨̛̜̺͙̤̘͆͑̆̈̇̃̊̀̽͂̔̀͑̎͆̔̀̅̂͂̌̉͒͆͗̍̆̋͊̚̕̕̕͘ͅl̵̨̛̛̦͍̥̅̈̓͒̐̎̾̅͂̌̃̊͆̅̌̊̉̔́̆͊̓͐͆̀͒̀̓̅͛̒̋͛͆͘̕̚̚͘͠͠m̴̛̲̟̳̪̱̻̰̞̪̲̯̺̉̂̔̍͑̌̈́̓̽̉̾̀̌͐̍͑́͊̾͊̈́̇̈̏͌̅͊͘̕͝͝͝o̷̧̧̡̧̢͖̤̹̩̼͉̩̭̾̌̒̉̀̾̅̐́́̏̓͌̍̑̓́̈́͛̑͒̓͊̓̂̔̕͘͜͝͠͠ẗ̷̡̢̜̬̺̮͕̬͖̹͎̪͓͉̳̳̮͕́̈́͋̇̚̚͜h̷̛̥̖̬̜̘̼͎̣̟͚̯͙͉̱̥̦̥̭̀̌͑̈́͛̐͗̈́̕͜͝͝ͅe̶̢̢̢̛͇̰̟̦̦͎̟̪̱̭̘̹͕̫͈̜̮͈̰̞̬͊̒̄̈̉̋̋̅̔̉̅̊̈́̎̀͐̌͛͋͛͗̑͌̂̈̊̎̓̆͗̃͂̽̍̕̕̚͝͝͠͝͠͝ŗ̵̧̢̨̧̡͙̥̼̯̣̭͕̙͖̗͉̣͙̫̫̜͕͍̜̟̣̻̪̱̘͕̗̰̦̜̮̝͖̞̖͇͈̤͔̻͊̌̓̂͜ͅͅͅs̸̨̧͓͈̳̩͚̑͌̋̆̑͋̈́͂̈́̀̾̒͑͘̕ had three for every of their species, the first mothers. They are false gods, worshipped for their power but just as dangerous and killable as a minawnii.

I feel the rocks shift, I watched my sisters leave for the shallow colors above me. I want to sleep, I do not care for yesterday it bores me, though I do quite like the island in the middle.

It’s so full of life and society builds around herds of thousands….that’s the only place I want to go. Maybe I will go one day…maybe…

I reached my head out of the sea, watching the sands of tomorrow calling for something to take me from this sea to the land beyond. I have hoped for eons for that, now yesterday is gone, Today is here.

I have watched things pass over me as the land becomes lush, huge white kangaroo-like beings. They have black pupils that have watched me…I will not care when they die..

As I beg on this watery fence a nycoton comes to me, oh how I owe them my life. I know now I should not have cared for another mortal again after this NYCOTON but I did, and it hurts me still.

They stared at me like a pitiful dog who just fell in the river, I am older than the lush grass beneath that creatures claws. Though I will never be able to tell them not in my garbled words, corrupted and vile.

The white beasts came and attacked the poor creature ripping them apart, they died taking me to that lake, forever I wonder how it would be if they never lifted me from that cursed stream.

They lifted me from those waves and took me to a lake, an oasis. The same white creatures stare at me forever more like I am a plague come to kill them. In the end I was I guess…

The days grew hotter and I watched the pond shrink as centuries passed it became sand, the dense fur of those white diesura made them leave I think. They looked panicked every time I rose my head from the water, tossing meat at me in fear.

They ran and the oasis was empty for a while I watched hungrily, and soon wardens came.

Huge creatures, hellions I believe they came in wondrous elegance casting order in an empty land. They were at war I think, they didn’t like a poisonous alternates, big as them or as toxic as a mola mola.

I watched as in fear a huge green portal ripped through the sky, I watched as these wardens, overseers, protecters.

They betrayed their own duty….

They chased the creatures they warred with to the sky killing those who ran. I saw a young sar’hingaro fly away in tears, given mercy and vengeance by the wardens, allowed to live forever alone in this evil land.

I decided this land must learn, I told stories and legends from yesterday to anyone who came near my pond, speaking of trees bigger than imaginable, and mushroom grass that fed you like berries.

They all listened to these tales, some stayed to hear more, despite the stories being limited to the tales and songs told to me by the winds.

These tales attracted many beings across the lands, some came to the oasis for the stories. But overtime it became that the creatures wanted to not be alone.

Many creatures were roaming the land, alone save for their family. This barren desert served a collection, the steps and gallops of these creatures led to the oasis becoming more desert like.

Under the wardens rule the land flourished, but I listened to the wind, and heard the cries of that sar from oh so long ago.

It was called grief, it was alone forevermore, all it’s people left in a wasteland save for this poor beast.

Grief, as what was it’s name, grows to vengeance, so I watched as the sky was painted green in its monstrous size.

I watched helpless, as the wardens queen, a huge boreal, followed by verdants, ardors, and hellions alike.

It was a slaughter, the beasts I played games with and wondered at snow the young creatures I watched dance under the moon,

Gone,

Fire painted the sand red as the sar named grief destroyed the land, blowing holes in the mountains.

I watched it felt as if my gills ripped themselves from my body and cried with me.

A black and white kendyll heard, it listened to my distorted garbles, incomprehensible but full of tangible emotion, I had not eaten in so long and I was sad.

The kendyll listened and left for a few days and brung me, a carcass of something too marred with bites and blood to tell. I stayed quiet, carnage wrote itself over this poor thing.

MEAT

I feasted like a starving dog that night.

I learned how to speak sonarian better because of that kendyll, she talked to me so much….it was nice. A friend…I hadn’t had that in many millenia they were something I wanted to be if I could walk these lands…

But all things die, some more brutally than most.

I woke up one day swimminb to the shallows looking for that kendyll who spoke to me so much bringing me food and warming a heart as cold as the trenches below. Only to find only her dead floating body , bobbing on the surface of the sea covered in poison, already starting to rot.

Yet again I felt my heart twist and feel heavy, yet again that horrible feeling you despicable mortals call….grief. I swam around the shallows looking for any sign it was a joke…it wasn’t…

I will keep hope I WILL you mortals are just….lost…

But after a week or so, her child came to me, tail between their legs filled with the same twisting sight in their own hearts. They ranted sadly about how unfair it was an so on and so forth, I listened my heart broke a little more…. More than a god could even stand….. funny..

I have been here since the world began but I just can let go of the fact that mortals are corrupt.

The young kendyll grew older, as all mortals grew, they shown like stars on their stripes, a beauty to rival the three moons above our own heads, but at a cost of their own mother. A sad price I don’t think any being would pay…

I came to the shallows again hoping to be given food by the sad kendyll but found their drowned body instead, another friend had died. Those useless mortals can’t stay ALIVE why can’t they just STAY.

Yet again I cried and cried, but I didn’t want them to be eaten by a hungry idiotic scavenger so I buried their body in the sandy waters where kelp still grows, green by my blessing.

The last these kendylls to bring me food was the sad ones niece. I never learned their name but they were excitable. They ruled when the rulers of the oasis were divided, and rules were strict and cruel.

She ranted to me about the unfair rules and made plans of rebellion, they never came true though…. She died of sadness after she found her eggs crushed, and wife dead.

So useless….

The ani’s lasted longest out of all the rulers of the oasis, probably more than in the rule of the cruel Jeff’s.

The Jeff’s I never saw, but was told to me by the gods. The Jeff’s who built castles out of lightning and rock. Bigger than mountains and crushed creatures big and small out of rage.

The ani’s grew to a empire across the oasis. They swam in my waters playing and giving me food, as every ruler did before.

They were cruel killing every carnivore that came, it was hypocritical in a sense, they kept me alive at the cost of many I will never know…..

….

Their foolishness though led them to die to a volcanic eruption. I do not miss them though, they were religious and hateful to other species.

The ones who had lived under other kings, queens, emperors and empresses.

The final true caretaker was a green kendyll, scarred and mute. He never spoke but he is the only one I knew by name. The kendyll’s name was luv, a weird one but land dwellers are like that.

He showed me things in the sand I will never see and I marveled at it despite my life eons longer than his.

He brung me food more than the others, quiet, always seeming regretful.

One day I watched as he looked around with insanity in his eyes, a need to kill.

I watched as he killed anyone in his path, it was a slaughter. He killed everything, the sands blood red. Bubbling with hate and white hot vengeance.

Luv roared words that could only be described as madness, and anger that was fueled by a broken mind.

He screamed and crashed in hatred killing the divided rulers and their people. When I looked out of the pool of water I saw blood everywhere. Many sought retribution.

He came back after a few weeks scarred beyond comprehension and filled with grief. I couldn’t bear to lose another “friend”. I tried to protect him but….Luv didn’t survive his grief of killing so many. I tried hard to protect him and heal him, but it was all for not.

So that night he passed away.

As many centuries passed, empires and tyrants rose and fell like the suns above us all, the oasis changed. The sand would forevermore be red with rage and insanity and murder and disaster haunted every corner. I protected those who asked but was feared.

Kohiiki’s as old as me looked ghoulish and as ancient as I was I still hoped every little creature to every mammoth would live in peace one day.

One who shared my thoughts was a small vaumora not even three, who danced and played on the shallows of my large pond, always joyous when I spoke in my garbled mimicry of you land dwellers language.

The vaumora seemed to light up every bit of the red sands painted by blood for so long. Making even the worst of the inhabitants smile. But the little vaumora’s joy didn’t last, caught in the crossfire of a turf war, they died in flames.

I loved the oasis but I had seen it grow for what was three millennia now, crying over lost friends or watching coldy over corrupt rulers.

The last of these rulers to ever reign under my blessing and hopes was a group of jotunhel.

These seals were smart enough to protect and Ally with the worst but after so many generations the ideals changed. War painted the dunes, the plains, and redwoods. What was my last promise was gone, so I take my last goodbye.

I have watched the world change and tears of the last wardens. I hope while I leave to the dark abyss that I came from, immortal as I am. That your world changes to something better.

But I will not watch, my heart has been ripped from my gills to many times for that.

I want to come back, maybe when you have learned…

So goodbye to the oasis May we meet again at a time which is better.

:::::::

I have listened to the words of the wind for a long, long time. Watching the waves sing their hymns to me

My hope, despite being broken so many times may just be true. So I tell my sights back to the place a lot oh so long ago.

When I returned it was not the same place, scattered but at peace. It did have an overseer of sorts.

I really should have listened to those words and warnings the wind carried to me, through the depths of the ocean to the place this world rose from.

I placed to much hope in you creatures filled with greed and fear, to angry at each other to notice what had watched, like me fro an eternity.

:::::::

Aereis were old things, things that had been there since before the mountains were even molehills.

They always watched, some came but many hid and died in the ancient mountains of yesterday.

But for every species there was an allmother, the first of their kind, immortal and huge. There were three Aereis that were allmother’s, and one who watched a bit to closely. They were jealous of the allmother kohiiki who despite their title never had a single child.

A false god of sorts, she was jealous that they played, and spoke, and shared eternal knowledge to those from today and tomorrow. The Aereis waited, and waited for three millennia, and finally the Kohiiki allmother left, sad and hopeless.

The Aereis flew down casting order and life in to a broken kingdom teaching them of the world from before, when the volcano was a mountain in a sea. When the very oasis they stood on was nothing more than an island therochales congregated in massive herds of thousands.

The broken lands stood in confliction staring hatefully at the first predators, the ones who caused this wonderlands destruction.

From this hate the Aereis allmother molded the land into what she thought as perfect.

A land with no rules and only her false prophecies stolen from the great lmakosauridons from that long taken sleep and dreamed of better days.

::::::

I saw what had become of my waters filled with scratch marks, trying to get rid of what was the last words to this beloved place to me.

What changed?

I saw the Aereis, staring along the land like it was a junevile just out of the egg. What cruel fate was this?

I forged this land though my broken heart and it now belonged to a false god? They did not know who had forged these sands into something better, who watched it change and cry?

I looked for anything that remained, I may have been confined to the waters and held captive by the binds of the waves but the rain and wind told me songs and stories from tomorrow and today.

I listened to what happened, not of peace but of trickery and jealousy, and I raged.

I called every storm I could call hoping for change

I called for the greatest floods and the strongest hurricanes

The most evil gales that tore through mountains like paper

I called to every cloud and every drop of water to reek justice to what had been my hopes and dreams.

Dishonor to had been once was, but I am not cruel.

I called to the furies had sent to not harmed those who still remembered, those undeserving of the evils. Those who met justice would be given it in kind, I will reap just what they sought.

What was left of my land, stricken grew better, the red sands filled with blood no longer haunted the corrupt oasis. Trees grew tall and the island from yesterday grew back. But this cruelty still must meet justice.

I swam to the heart of this world and cried my regret, not thinking of the blood shed to a world that will never know. I will give something back to fix what had been lost.

I wanted to give the gift of a portal locked away. The wardens were long gone, I could not open it.

So I searched for some being who could. For decades a swam the endless waters, listened to the rains chatter and the winds excited symphonies.

I found what could’ve been, the tired ancient sar’hingaro from the days of the hellions, and it’s dying hope. I took what was needed, a soul for the freedom of a wastelands sorrows.

….

…

Finally my gift had been given, the world the wardens locked away in their unfit justice.

So few were left from that exile but they came back and I was happy.

I watched as my gift healed the blood that had built this tomorrow.

I am at peace now so I say this to my last hopes and dreams, I am ready to sleep I have rebuilt a world into something that yesterday had been, today had destroyed, and tomorrow was again.

It had been 20 long millennium and I am tired, so I sleep in the primordial rocks I came from with my two sisters. They will comfort me while I sleep, have been away from them for much to long…

From the ends of the earth and the reaches of the sky, my greatest treasure, I have told to you,

Till I awake again,

Leviathan

#Creatures of Sonaria #CoS #Kohiiki #Aereris #Kendyll #Roblox #Creatures of Sonaria Fanfic #Creatures of Sonaria fanfiction #CoS fanfic #CoS fanfiction #video games #fanfic #fanfiction

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amane-by-together · 4 years ago

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Blue Hour || Amane Yugi pt. 2/5

(Amane Yugi x Fem!Reader)

genre: romance, drama and a bit of fantasy

summary: [name] and amane start exchanging letters that leads to an accidental phone call.

"I stay up the whole night again"

Writing letters to [name] has been a daily routine for Amane lately. Tsukasa teases his older brother about the letters but was assured (more like scolded) by the latter that it was just a mere project.

A project that he finally liked for once. The dream about a carousel and that girl has been bugging him for days, albeit Amane never dreamt it again after that very day.

Amane reeled away from his study desk with the help of his black leather swivel chair to take a glance of the eloquent moon from the window pane. The pearlescent glowing rock was alluring the young boy to take a break and look at the moon instead.

He did. Amane stood up, walking towards the window, the fact that the moon looked so beautiful right now, he doesn't want to miss a night without looking at it. It was as if the moon is calling him.

Amane opened the windows and was welcomed by the cold night breeze. His face, being hit by the beams of moonlight, highlighting his perfect visuals to make him even more fleeting and unreal. His amber irises traveled towards the night sky that was powdered with shimmering stars.

The young boy leaned against the railings, pulling out the letter that [name]. “Wonder what she's up to right now...” Amane asked to himself while examining the letter.

He opened the letter by peeling off the sticker that was sealed on it. Amane reads the letter, [name]'s handwriting is very neat but it looked like the ball point of her ballpen is forcefully pressed against the paper as she writes.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a line of numbers at the end of the letter. Amane realizes that [name] wrote her phone number on her letter in case he wanted to call or text her.

The thing is, Amane dislikes taking phone calls, its just making him feel uneasy, perks of being an introvert that is. He fancies texting more than holding a conversation through calling.

Amane stared at [name]'s phone number at hand, contemplating whether he should call her during the night. ‘She might be sleeping,’ he thought. ‘But it wouldn't hurt to try, right?’

Amane lifted his head up towards the night sky to the full moon, a gentle breeze made contact with his skin. He was waiting for an answer, but the moon remained silent as it should be. “I guess I should go try and call her.”

The young boy grabbed his phone from his desk and went back to his balcony. Amane paused, staring at his phone long and hard while his hands are shaking in nervousness. Carefully, he typed in her number on his phone.

Amane inhaled, his chest slightly rising and then it falls as he exhaled. He ran his long slender fingers through the locks of his choppy hair in frustration. “Why am I doing this?” he sighed while looking at his phone.

Then, his finger accidentally slipped to click the call button. Amane's phone started to ring nonstop causing him to panic and jolt backwards. ‘What should I do?! Ack! If only I just stopped myself, why did I even bother trying to call her anyways?!’ he yelled inside his mind.

“Oh my god, damn these fingers of mine!” Amane hissed to himself while holding the phone. He wanted to die and get cut up into little stars for the night in embarrassment.

Unbeknownst to him that [name] already picked up the call.

“[name], I'm really sorry I called you when you're busy!” Amane puts his phone near his ear with anxiety rushing through him, thinking that [name] would be annoyed. “I didn't mean to! My finger just slipped, please forgive me—”

It turned silent, Amane can only hear his panicked breaths. When he calmed down, he sucked up a breath as he lifted his finger to end the call and apologize through a text or maybe a letter perhaps.

Before he taps the end call button, Amane heard something from the other line. He slowly raised his phone near to his ear.

“Hi, Amane-kun.”

Badump.

Amane's heart skipped a beat at the moment he heard [name]'s voice from the first time, especially when she calls him by his first name.

“Amane-kun, is that you?” [name] asked with a grin.

Amane was too speechless to answer, he didn't expect that he will be hearing [name]'s voice too soon. [name]'s voice isn't that high pitched or low, to Amane her voice was lovely. He felt like there’s a wallowing pleasure of milk and honey flowing through his veins. “Amane...?”

“A-Ah!” Amane snapped out from his trance. “Yeah, it’s me Amane, you must be [name] right?”

“Yeah.” [name] chuckled. “You seem startled, are you perhaps doing alright?”

Sweet stars. The flustered young boy cannot say a word, he can hear his beating heart from his chest. “I-I'm doing alright.” Amane stammered while clutching his stomach.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Star gazing.”

“That's nice~” [name] tells Amane, and then she talked in pout. “I'm stuck here doing my homework.”

“And making post cards for you...” she added.

“You should look at the stars right now,” Amane puts his forearm on the railings, looking up to the stars and admiring their twinkle. “They're pretty...”

[name] stood up from her desk while holding her phone to look at the stars from her balcony. She smiled, Amane was indeed right about the stars looking pretty as ever. “You're right, they are pretty...”

“But you're much prettier.”

'Smooth Amane, that's smooth.'

“I'm not that pretty, you haven't seen my face yet...”

“Well I bet you're pretty~” Amane grinned sweetly. “You probably make the stars envious~”

“Aweee, stop it.” [name]'s smile turned bigger, she felt her cheeks grew bright red that could shame those stars on how smooth he is. “I bet you look good than me—”

“We'll see about that when we meet~!”

And so the two of them spent the whole night talking to each other. Who knew an accidental call would lead to this new found longing of meeting each other.

They wanted to see each other.

“Will we really meet face to face?” [name] asked, looking up to the stars and moon. It was the same night sky that Amane was looking, yet those two were far away from each other.

“By yonder blessed moon I swear,” Amane quotes. [name] immediately knew where this was going, she giggled.

“O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,”

“What should I swear by~?” Amane smiled charmingly. “Yeah I know, he swore by himself.”

The two of them broke into giggles. Amane wished that they could do more than calling on the phone, maybe talking to each other while grinning and subtly placing his hand on top of hers—

Amane felt the tips of his ears turn red. He's fallen head over heels for his pen pal just by hearing her voice. “Amane-kun, I need to go now.”

“Already?” His voice sounded sad, he didn't want her to go away, if only time would stop between the two of them. “I mean, it's late at night, you need some sleep.”

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,” [name] tells him in a soft whisper. “That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

[name] ended the call, maybe she's in a rush or something, but still the smile didn't leave in Amane's lips. “Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy chest. Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest...”

He thanked the stars that something like that. Amane adjusted his shirt before dropping himself to his bed. A smile broke down from his visuals against the pillow.

Amane slowly closes his eyes, drifting to dreamland.

“If I'm getting to get it all wrong anyways, might as well just confess.”

Under the strawberry skies with faint clouds covering the sunset, there stood that unfamiliar girl, gripping on to Amane's hand. They were standing on a green grass. Other than that, the two of them were both wearing white.

Amane expected that he will see a carousel like his previous dream with the unfamiliar girl. Instead, it was a ferris wheel that seems to be circling for eternity.

“You and me of 5:53, we're beautiful.”

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #amane yugi #amane yugi x reader #anime #fluff #hanako x reader #tbhk #yugi amane #yugi amane x reader #amane #blue hour

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mangolover · 4 years ago

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Can Blood Piece Broken Glass Back Together? - Ikesen Kenshin angst fanfiction

Title: Can Blood Piece Broken Glass Back Together?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku / Ikesen

Pairing: Kenshin X F!MC

Genre: Angst

Warnings: This fanfiction includes sensetive themes like: suicide, mental illness, depression, self harm, blood and excesive drinking, Please proceed with caution!

Spoilers: There are some spoilers here, one of them being really important for Kenshin’s character development and to better understand him.

Word Count: 1700+

Description: F!MC has been feeling depressed and suicidal lately and Kenshin isolated her due to his jealousy problems, leaving her with no other option to escape her darkness, but taking her own life and breaking his fragile heart.

Enjoy!

It was hard to face life these days... It wasn’t the first time she had felt like giving up. Even before she travelled 500 years back into the past and found the love of her life, those thoughts were like an annoying guest to her, coming and going as they wished. Back in the future it was alright, times were much more peaceful and she could go to any of her friends or to her family, sometimes even seeking professional help. But now… Now her family wasn’t even born and her friends were mostly his enemies, enemies of the one person she was ready to call her own world, Kenshin Uesugi, the man who had imprisoned her heart, body and destiny.

Nothing particularly bad happened, she just woke up one day and felt… empty. It haunted her from when she was a teen, ever since she lost herself because she wasn’t like other girls on Instagram... She didn’t know how to express her emotions, that was one thing she always struggled with. And being with Kenshin didn’t help her with that.

Kenshin had his own demons that haunted his mind. They left his dreams after she had helped him, but he was still helping himself and couldn’t help her. That’s why she was really happy when she had a chance to see Shingen and Yukimura. Shingen was wiser and older and dealing with his own demons so he could always spare some advice or lend a hearing ear which was helpful to her. She could barely go anywhere alone to scream and release every damned emotion she felt, so she’d find her antidote in her friend Yukimura. Yuki would always bring a smile to her face and to that she was very grateful.

But that bugged Kenshin. He was sickly jealous and didn’t want them to hear her beautiful voice, to smell her beautiful scent, to fell her warm embrace as they hugged her to make her feel better, but he couldn’t be there for her. He was a busy warlord with many enemies. So, the only way to stop those haunting voices in his head was to cut them off. He asked his once arch enemy and his vassal to never show up again or there will be a problem. Shingen understood the hidden motive behind his threatening request, he was painfully aware of his demons and didn’t want his friend that he cared about so deeply going down that damned spiral of self-destruction again. So they retreated back to their own land, silently apologizing to her in their heads.

With no one there for her anymore, a new wave of hopelessness washed over her leaving her in even worse state, but like a sign from any gods there are, Sasuke, her buddy from the future, was there with her. He was a busy man, after all he was Kenshin’s employee, his own ninja, but he could always find the time for her, because she was the reason he endured all those four long years of ninja training, only hoping to meet her again and be able to help her. And even if their plans have changed, they were still in this together. Sasuke would listen to her and help her, even whrn she was at her lower points, when she was too close to the rock bottom, he would be with her. He could see her pale face and how much skinner she had become in the last months compared to a year ago when she first arrived in this time period. She didn’t eat properly, she didn’t sleep enough and those thoughts, anxiety and stress were eating her from inside out, she even left her job as the seamstress and decided to sit out her days on the veranda, looking out at the miserable garden that was once full of beautiful flowers with prickly thorns that made her bleed and hurt Kenshin.

Kenshin was once again hurt by her relationship with Sasuke and he didn’t hesitate to pull his trusty sword Himetsuru-Ichimonji on him. He cared for Sasuke, deeply, but he couldn’t shut those horrible, distorted voices in his head that were growing louder by second, telling him the curse and blessing that followed him. He could not be harmed and killed in battle, but everyone around him that he cared and loved ended up getting hurt or dying out of his reach to help them. It was eating him inside out, leaving behind only a shell of a man he once was or could be and a glass heart in his chest, hard to break, but once broken, hardly put together again, slowly killing him…

Sasuke was forbidden from seeing or touching her, only if she was in immediate danger and Kenshin wasn’t there to run to her aid. That broke her, leaving her with barely any hope, not strong enough to outshine the darkness in her mind and soul anymore. With all her loved ones now abandoning her or being forbidden to see her due to the side she chose, she was almost completely alone. There was one last chance to stop it all, to prevent the turmoil that was coming.

She had been alone for a week now, looking for a way to punish herself for being so weak without hurting Kenshin. She looked at that dagger she received from Oda forces before she departed from them in case she ever needed to save herself. ‘Should I do it?’ was her thought as she stared at its blade, pressing it to her fingertip, testing it’s sharpness. It could easily slash someone’s throat in an instant without much pressure applied, she was sure of that as she almost cut her finger and dealt another punch to Kenshin’s still fragile heart. Healing process was never going to be easy, if she wasn’t aware of that before, she was now. She just hoped it would be quicker, but she knew better than to rush him and risk all the progress, all the baby steps they made, going down the drain…

She snapped out of it when she heard the footsteps down the hall, announcing the early return of her healing lover. She frantically hid the dagger. Making sure she doesn’t cut herself, for the sake of both of their sanity. He greeted her as he slid open the door, shutting it behind him when he saw her face with a plastered smile. She is glad he was home in one piece, but she couldn’t find a way to really smile again. Kenshin must’ve been tired because he sat on the futon waiting for her to come and cuddle with him, but she was holding herself back. Maybe she should just talk to him about her demons, he promised to protect her all his life after all. ‘Yeah, I should just talk to him, I love him. He deserves to know what’s going on.’ However when she saw that beautiful true smile on his face when he hugged her, placing an affectionate kiss on top of her head, she lost all her courage to tell him and risk losing this happy Kenshin she loved so much more than his sad side.

That proved to be a fatal mistake on her part.

She couldn’t fight her monsters when it was too dark for her to see ahead anymore. The last light of hope extinguished its flame and left her completely alone and lost, this time with no resort to turn to. The antidote was now useless, nothing could save her. She was too far gone. She finally broke.

She was standing in the middle of her room, finally wearing the kimono she sewed last night using the fabric the Oda clan sent her, the fabric Kenshin would rip off her and burn out of his jealous rage. She wrote him a letter, explaining her thoughts in the best way she could and begging him to not blame himself. This time, it was completely her mistake because the only one getting hurt was him. She took a deep breath and muttered an apology under her breath before she slit her wrist, deep, causing her blood to splatter everywhere, quickly leaving her body. Sasuke was worried about her and he finally found some time to meet her with Kenshin being occupied hunting down some bandits in town. He silently slid into her room and saw a horrifying sight…

There she was, wobbling on her legs, losing conciseness by seconds, he froze to the spot, only to see her holding a bloody dagger with a pained smile on her face. He had to act quickly, he ran to her side, tying a piece of fabric around her wrist doing anything to try and stop the bleeding and, in an instant, he was out in the hallway, running towards the medic’s room, begging her to keep her eyes open and stay with him, he couldn’t lose her when he could’ve helped her. After dropping her of there he practically fell backwards down on to the floor, still covered in her blood and running his hands through his hair, drowning in unbearable guilt. His usually stoic expression was now painted with hurt.

Vassals learned about this and Kenshin was soon brought back to his castle, demons running wild in his mind. ‘What the hell was she thinking? How could I let that happen? Why was fate punishing mr once again, wasn’t the first time enough?? Wasn’t Isehime enough of a punishment for me??!’

But nothing could bring Isehime back… He is the one responsible for her death… He failed to protect his first love from himself and his damned curse that still kept him alive, only to torture him more…

Few hours passed that felt like they were years, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her side now, not when she was still ragging her war, fighting, the only question was to die or to survive. She may thought this was the best way to hurt him, one quick and hard punch to that glass in his chest, but it was the worst torture he could imagine. She was still visible, dying out of his reach. He sat at the veranda where she spent so many nights with her demons, downing bottles of sake, one after the another, and poured himself another cup, the one brewed in Azuchi, one he shared with her. Now it lost its special taste all of a sudden, causing him to push it off the table and shatter into millions of pieces, just like his heart when the final blow was finally delivered… One of those shards from his heart must've flew and stuck in her wrist, deepening the cut and therefore preventing the blood from stopping...

But, sadly, blood can’t piece broken glass back together…

The end.

#kenshin uesugi fanfic #ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikesen #ikesen angst #ikemen sengoku angst #ikemen sengoku angst fanfiction #ikemen sengoku angst fanfic #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #🥭

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wonkastarshine · 4 years ago

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Soooooo... I wasn’t sure when I was going to share this, but I’m just feeling very emotional towards this event today, so I think this is a good day to talk about it.

I’ve met Tim Burton.

That is me in the all black ensemble in front of him, at the bottom of this very long story. I met him on January 21st this year at his exhibition at the Neon Museum in Las Vegas. The second I found out that Tim was coming to Las Vegas, I cried so hard. This was finally my opportunity to meet the man that has shaped my whole life. But when I went online to secure a ticket for the book signing, they were sold out. I was devastated, and in a desperate plea, I called the museum and asked if they were COMPLETELY sold out. They said ‘yes, we are, but there will be a stand-in line.”

And the clouds lifted.

This was a risky trip. I would be ditching three of my classes to spend a day driving to Las Vegas and then driving back immediately afterwards. I live about 5 hours from Vegas. The stand-in line started at 10am. I planned to leave at exactly 5am and get in line as early as possible. I planned my outfit, my hair, exactly which book I was going to buy for him to sign, and how much I would need to put aside for gas money. It was all put into place.

Now, to convince Mom to let me go...

I wrote out a whole speech (a la Wonka cue card style) and read it out loud to her. I had lost so much sleep over the fear of her rejection, and the agony of knowing that I had a shot and it just slipped from my fingers. My mom’s biggest worry was that I would drive all the way, stand hours in line and have Tim say, “Sorry, I’m not going to sign any more.” But I told her, “I would rather go and be turned away, then to never know whether I would’ve been accepted or not.”

Mom wasn’t happy, but ultimately gave her blessing for me to drive solo(!) to Las Vegas. Gosh, even just writing about it now gives me such butterflies! I woke up at 4:30 and was out of the house by 5:30, as I had to wait for some fog to clear up. I was on my way, with Danny Elfman’s music to be my friend for the long drive. The drive was fairly empty. I went over the Tehachapi mountains just as the sun was rising. It was sooooo beautiful, with all of its purples, pinks and oranges. “Everyday” by Buddy Holly, from Big Fish was playing and it just completely summed up how I was feeling. This was my moment. From the second I laid eyes on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at age 4, Tim Burton forever changed my life. And now it was going to be time to thank him.

I arrived at the museum and to my surprise, the stand-in line was maybe 15 people maximum. The 400 people who got tickets previously were all in attendance. I breathed a sigh of relief and ate a snack while reading a book. The employees of the museum were so nice and always willing to answer our questions. One even said, “Tim loves his fans. He’s very grateful for all of you. I have no doubt he will sign for everyone.” So, the waiting began. I had arrived at about 10:30 or so and the signing would not start until 2pm. It wasn’t until around 2:30 or so that we were informed that those in the stand in line were definitely getting our books signed.

Y’all let me tell you, I almost died right there on the spot.

And I was internally panicking so much because I hadn’t allowed myself to plan what I was going to say to him, in the event I didn’t get to meet him. But it was real now and the gears were turning. I bought The Art of Tim Burton book from the stand and quickly joined the queue, which was moving rapidly. He was a fast signer, apparently. The employees told us we could pick ANY page we wanted him to sign and he would sign it. The gears turned even more. ANY PAGE?? Holy cow, what would I pick? Wonka, Edward, Catwoman, personal sketches of him and Helena?? I was so torn. I loved the concept sketch of Wonka, but there was some text at the bottom of it, and I kinda just wanted his signature to be alone with a drawing. I wanted to pick something that uniquely represented Tim, one drawing that completely encapsulated what his art is, what his art means and expresses.

And the lowly first sketch of Edward Scissorhands that he drew in high school was perfect. 100% Tim Burton.

The queue was getting shorter and shorter, and I realized that I was silly getting to think that Burton would want to really be having conversations with people. A self proclaimed introvert definitely would not want to talk to over 500 people in a day! So, I decided on one line. As soon as I turned the corner and I saw that tangled mess of black hair, those polarized glasses he never goes without, my heart completely dropped and burst with nerves. It was really Tim Burton, Tim Fucking Burton, sitting right there. The man responsible for creating my childhood: Willy Wonka, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, Batman Returns. It just seemed so surreal. I handed my phone to the nice lady behind me in line, who I casually held small talk with throughout the day. She was more than happy to take pictures of me with Burton.

He was moving fast! I barely got in front of him when he was already done signing it! I had to make my move. I stuck out my hand, waited until he shook it, made eye contact with me and I said, “Thank you so much for coming.” He smiled and I was quickly ushered away by the nice employees. It was perfect. No embarrassing blubbering or confessions. Just a handshake, a word of thanks and some smiles. I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes just typing this. I left the museum, and went to my car. I just stared at his autograph for the longest time. I called my mom and told her I made it and I met him. After I hung up, I sat quietly in car, silent, yet happy tears falling. Everything I’ve ever wanted to be, is because of Burton. My reason for wanting to become a film editor is because of Burton.

It was my honor and privilege to have met the genius. And I’m beyond grateful it happened before the entire world turned into a chaotic mess. Tim Burton has always been my rock in times of chaos. Today is no exception. What a day 🖤

#tim burton #neon museum #las vegas #abbie’s thoughts #sorry this turned out so much longer than expected #but i love tim burton y’all #movies #director #catcf 2005 #johnny depp

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years ago

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#130-121)

#130: Franco Battiato and Alice -- I Treni di Tozeur (Italy 1984)

“In una vecchia miniera, distese di sale E un ricordo di me, come un incantesimo”

“In an old empty mine, the salt extends And I seem to remember it, like a dream”

Franco Battiato was one of Italy's greatest songwriters, known for his complex songs in a mix of genres. Unfortunately, I haven't listened to most of his discography, but I do know of "Per Elisa", the song he wrote for Alice which won Sanremo 1981 (coincidentially, the first year Italy withdrew from Eurovision, welp). It's thoughtful and its incorporation of Fur Elise is well-done with its synthesizers.

In comparison, I treni di Tozeur is not a song readily caught by first listening, and that’s why it’s not my favorite of its year. This doesn’t mean it’s not a good song, though—it's sounds eerily futuristic even for the synth-based 1980s, and actually timeless. The lyrics seem ambivalent, but I think there’s some philosophical bent towards them. One of the commentaries talk about the train to Tozeur being built in the early twentieth century to satisfy the whims of the King of Tunisia, at a huge cost. Maybe there's some social commentary sneaking in there.

The performance was good, but it seems like Alice had a bit more control of her voice. She did so with style, and I actually liked her outfit.

In addition, the opera singers at the end were the cherry of the cake. A mix of classical and modern, indeed, which earned itself classic status.

Personal ranking: 2nd/19 Actual ranking: =5th/19 (with Belgium) in Luxembourg

#129: Linda Martin -- Terminal 3 (Ireland 1984)

“Staring into a space, searching through every face He's been away too long now, he must have changed”

I feel like there are two types of people in terms of 1984--those who have Alice and Batiatto (#130) as their favorite, and those who have Linda Martin as theirs. As shown by how close they are on my list, I love both, but Linda Martin just eeks it out.

The storytelling aspect of the song is very strong, as Linda waits for her lover to come from an international flight. Ironically, it can't be from Dublin, as no Irish airport has a third terminal. Maybe it's from London's she's waiting for her love? Or the flight is coming to the United States, rather than from it? Mysteries indeed.

(Now my life goal is to be at Terminal 3 at 10:30; one of David Tao's most famous songs is 飞机场的10:30--Airport at 10:30, which deals with the same topic)

The New Wave instrumentation and orchestration add up to the drama too--the brass grabs me from the first beats, and the strings and rock influences remain as the song goes on. It's kind of hard to believe Johnny Logan was behind this, especially considering he's better known for his ballads. If she had to win one Eurovision, Terminal 3 had to be the one.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 2nd/19 in Luxembourg

#128: Halla Margrét - Hægt og hljótt (Iceland 1987)

"Kvöldið hefur flogið alltof fljótt Fyrir utan gluggann komin nótt Kertin er’ að brenna upp Glösin orðin miklu meir’en tóm"

"The evening has fled all too fast Outside the window night has come The candles are burning low The glasses have become much more than empty"

As their debut entry was fun and "in-your"face", Iceland’s second entry has an afterparty feeling, but I've heard some comparisons to being a Christmas song. It doesn't sound like it to me, but it's still really serene and beautiful, as if the snow was falling outside (not unlike #213 on this list).

The lyrics are quite gentle and pretty, painting a dainty picture. However, they also contain enough melancholy to add a tinge of darkness to the scene, which is why I don't think it would work as a Christmas song. Halla’s vocals are very pure, and adds enough delicacy to the composition. The piano and orchestration also helps.

What stands out more is the funny notes related to Hægt og hljótt--one refers to the last line of their chorus, which is bufflaxed to "anus in the air" in English, another mentions how Halla's dress is see-through against the white piano, almost as if she was a ghost. Very strange, especially the latter as the lyrics focuses on the upcoming dawn. Or it would make a good fan-fiction, come to think of it.

Personal ranking: 3rd/22 Actual ranking: 16th/22 in Brussels

#127: Raphael -- Yo soy aquél (Spain 1966)

“Yo soy aquél, Que por tenerte da la vida, Yo soy aquél, Que estando lejos, no te olvida,

“I'm that one, Who gives his life to have you I'm that one Who's far away and doesn't forget you”

When I first did this sorter, Yo soy aquel ended up close to being in my top 50. It was a surprise, because despite being one of my favorite songs from Spain, I didn't think about as much in terms of great songs, even though it's a beautiful song.

The opening bars to this song are filled with drama, which gives way to Raphael’s crooning for the one he loves. The lyrics are a bit repetitive, sure, but they still work in how Raphael wants his love to know he will be there. I particularly love the way the song builds, which, combined with his singing, creates a brooding atmosphere. The explosion in the chorus is really effective, which the orchestra compliments and actually amplifies. You could actually feel his passion thanks to those strings.

1966 was an incredible year (especially for a black-and-white contest), and if I could switch one of Spain's wins, I would drop La La La for this in one second (even though there's another song from this year on my top 250). Massiel doesn't hold a candle to Raphael.

Personal ranking: 2nd/18 Actual ranking: =7th/18 (with Yugoslavia) in Luxembourg

#126: Liam Reilly -- Somewhere in Europe (Ireland 1990)

“We should be together, and maybe we just might If you could only meet me somewhere in Europe tonight”

For my European friends, I wish for this lyric to come true! I am sadly ill-traveled, haha.

When I started to consider this top 250, I thought "Somewhere in Europe" would be song #250, because it was pleasant and pretty, but wouldn't trouble the rest of the list. When I was re-arranging the list, this was one of the songs which got a great boost, and now it sits just outside of the top half of this list!

As for this song, I like it a lot. It not only a pretty little ditty, but it also takes the theme of unity and takes one on an adventure. Because of the piano-based instrumental, I keep thinking that it's like a Billy Joel song, as it's quite homebrewed. While I don’t think this would’ve made a better winner than Insieme (or White and Black Blues, for that matter--France winning would bring some new energy to the contest), Liam Reilly proved he was a talented songwriter, and it shines with the orchestration too.

As a result, I keep thinking that it would be a good New Year's Eve song--it's nostalgic yet calming, and seeks out a better future. Unfortunately, Liam Reilly died on New Year's Day this year, which makes it a bit sadder. RIP.

Personal ranking: 8th/22 Actual ranking: =2nd/22 (with France) in Zagreb

#125: Rita -- Shara Bachravot (Israel 1990)

לבוקר הזה יש טעם של חופש זר כמו של מוות או ברכה כי הלכתי ממך”

“This morning, Has the taste of strange freedom Like of death or a blessing Because I went away from you”

(I actually heard of Rita before stumbling on her Eurovision entry--one song I really like is Idan Raichel's Mechake (Waiting), and I searched the web. One of the results was Rita's version of his composition, which compared to Raichel's, is a bit more produced. Still great!)

1990 focuses on freedom in many ways, especially because of the Berlin Wall falling and the end of communism. Shara Barkhovot also talks about freedom, but does so in another way.

It’s basically a tale of a relationship ending, with a woman leaving her partner in the morning. It’s frequently interpreted as running away from abuse, and the imagery involved does a good job in conveying that feeling.

It’s dramatic and passionate, with Rita “emoting” the song rather than merely performing it. Unfortunately, it does go off the rails later on, with her vocals losing out at points. I still like how she played with the microphone stand, though!

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 18th/22 in Zagreb

#124: Helena Paparizou -- My Number One (Greece 2005)

“You're my lover Undercover You're my sacred passion and I have no other.”

Helena Paparizou was one of those artists that I knew that participated in Eurovision, but didn’t listen to her song until much later. I found out about her with the song “Heroes”, which I played a lot when I was younger (about 11-13 years old), and didn’t think about her in the contest, other than she won and she received a wide ovation when she returned to Greece.

My Number One is all kinds of fun, from the ethnic instrumental to the sometimes silly lyrics. I also love the performance featuring Helena playing a human lyre, which is a definite highlight! A fun and energetic bop (the last of a holy trinity of ethno-influenced dance winners during this time), now I’m a happy fan of hers (I really listened to Kati Skoteino a lot since 2018, for example. Plus her Mambo interval the following year is fantastic.)

On whether this or "Die For You" was the better song, it's hard to tell, especially on how close they are on this list. Whereas 2001 was the weaker year and Die for You had to win it, My Number One was in a stronger year and held its own. And yet it's not my favorite...

Personal ranking: 2nd/39 Actual ranking: 1st/24 GF in Kyiv

#123: Vanilla Ninja -- Cool Vibes (Switzerland 2005)

“Don't want you to come so close to me Don't need you to blow my fantasy But I know that you are livin' far beyond those lies I can see the danger rise in your eyes...”

From my last place in 2004 to my favorite in 2005, what a glow up from Switzerland! Though to be honest, I have a hard time determining why this song in particular is my favorite of its year. I did come in knowing that Switzerland was the only one of the original seven to not win in my timeline, so that may have impacted my thinking.

Cool Vibes a dark rock song, with occasionally dramatic lyrics (though then again, emo rock was getting popular during that time), but an intriguing musical atmosphere. Despite 2005 being known as the "ethno-bop year", there were a number of interesting rock songs (e.g. In My Dreams), and this holds up by its sheer seriousness, versus the occasionally silly vibe of those others.

And with that string motif, it does sound like a song that needs an orchestra to realize its full potential. There's a lot of hidden angst throughout the song, and the multiple key changes actually helps here.

Personal ranking: 1st/39 Actual ranking: 8th/24 GF in Kyiv

Final Impressions on Switzerland: Not one of my favorite countries in the contest, unfortunately. I find most of their entries to be quite non-descript, with some of them being very bad. That said, they do have a number of gems on here, and some great ones that just missed out (Moi, tout simplement; Io senza te; She Got Me especially). And with the track they are now, they could actually win in the next few years. Hopefully with a French-language song. :)

#122: Tanja Ribič - Zbudi se (Slovenia 1997)

“Zbudi se, dobri princ Rada bi ti dala vse Svoje sanje in mladost Da ne bom iz pravljice”

“Wake up, good prince I would like to give you all My dreams and my youth Break the spell of the fairy tale”

Sometimes I forget I love this song. As 1997 is one of the strongest years (if not the strongest year song-wise), there are so many good ones one can't remember all of them. Zbudi se a bit dark and fits in very well with the rest of the 1990s with its mythical character (and might be the first Balkan ballad proper), but Tanja does it so well. And she would later be more known for her acting!

When I do listen to it, it just takes me away. It’s a dark fairytale, with beautiful lyrics and an intriguing atmosphere. The narrator longs for her loved one, filled with magical imagery and dreaminess. I also appreciate the transition between the lyrics and the chorus, which can be very hard to do! And of course, the orchestration, including the harp parts in particular, create a fantastic soundscape.

Personal ranking: 8th/25 Actual ranking: 10th/25 in Dublin

#121: Lúcia Moniz - O meu coração não tem cor (Portugal 1996)

“Dança-se o samba, a marrabenta também, Chora-se o fado, rola-se a coladeira.”

“We dance the samba, the marrabenta too, We weep the fado, and roll the coladeira”

Curiously, for a song which was one twelve away from a top-three finish, O meu coração não tem cor seems a bit less known within Portugal. It even didn't get a studio release, and Lucia is better known for being the love interest in Love Actually. And yet it's still a fan-favorite within Eurovision.

The lyrics call out to everyone in the Portuguese diaspora (or the Lusosphere in general), and welcomes them to engage in their cultural traditions. We have fruit and dance and crying and laughter all at once. All kinds of fun, except when the clips grayscale and I keep thinking of those "in memoriam" scenes.

And it managed impress in another way; it came in 18th in the audio-only pre-qualifer which only appeared in 1996. Thanks to the brazen and fun orchestration, along with Lucia's very sweet voice, it was lifted up in the final to a solid sixth place! Very well-deserved.

Personal ranking: 5th/23 Actual ranking: 6th/23 in Oslo

#eurovision song contest #eurovision #esc top 250 #esc 250 #esc italy #esc ireland #esc iceland #esc israel #esc greece #esc switzerland #esc slovenia #esc portugal #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

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evil woman - two

TW: Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Addiction, Cheating

It had been a couple weeks since Aelin’s birthday and Elide could count on one hand how many times she had been outside her apartment.

She had opened the door for Rowan and that was only because he used his key and practically force fed her.

Now he was aggressively washing dishes that he deemed too ‘dusty’, as she had only ordered takeout, not finding it in her to cook for herself. It just reminded her of how they used to spend evenings in his kitchen, far too happy and deliriously in love. Those were the good days, where he woke up with clear eyes and music flowing from his fingertips, the ones where he would pluck gentle melodies on the beat-up guitar he refused to give up, insisting that it was his lucky charm and had been there from the start. Elide would laugh and smile, tricking herself into thinking that this time it would last, this time would be the one where he realized that the other side of him was hurting her and would tell her that he was home forever.

Those good days started slipping away from him and Elide spent her time hoping for another one.

The bad days got worse and worse and became bad weeks, then bad months. He would stay out all night, would ignore her calls and texts, turned off his location. That old guitar went back in its case and shoved into a storage unit. His eyes became glazed with a cocktail of substances and Elide couldn’t remember the times she waited up with him, the times she stuck her fingers down his throat, how many times she held him as he sobbed, holding back her own tears as he shook and sweated on the tiled floor of their bathroom, the times she put up with the slew of nastiness he spewed everywhere.

It shamed her. How long she had stayed, how long she had let her life go this way.

That day she hopped on a plane to surprise him had been her last attempt at waiting for him. She told herself as she packed a bag, that if nothing changed, if he was still like that, she would leave that frozen montage her life had become and be able to breathe again. Be able to be happy.

It was a blessing disguised as heartbreak.

“Ro,” she said, “the dishes are clean.”

“They aren’t.”

“Yes they are, why can’t you just-”

“Relax? Or be like you, lazy and uncaring?” His voice was harsh and cold and she didn’t know it would hurt this bad to have those words thrown at her.

Elide raised her chin, staring down her nose at him, refusing to let him see the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. “Go home, Rowan.”

Rowan’s icy fury cracked and a puff of air escaped his lips, “I- I didn’t mean that, Ellie, it wasn’t about you.”

“Go home” she repeated, standing and walking past him to her room. Her door slammed shut behind her.

Elide sat herself on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands. She heard a shuffling noise and then Rowan’s voice, “I, I’m sorry, El. That wasn’t my place. There’s food in the fridge and I’ll call in the morning, alright? Bye.” She didn’t say anything, too stubborn to speak to him.

There was the sound of receding footsteps and then the door closed behind him.

Elide let the tears slip down and after a moment or two, her sadness and desperation turned to white-hot anger.

He had ruined everything.

He wasn’t even around anymore and still, he was this huge shadow hanging over everybody’s head. He was the monster hiding in her closet, he was the demon that made her cower under her duvet.

After her anger left her, she felt hollow and decided that she should probably eat something so she moved out to the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding it in herself to smile at the food Rowan had left, all of her favourites.

She took a seran-wrap covered plate of pasta and threw the plastic into the trash, placing the pasta in the microwave and viciously stabbed her finger into the numbered buttons. Elide walked to her living room as the food was being heated, a note on the coffee table catching her eye.

It had Rowan’s scratchy scrawl and she flipped it open, scanning the words.

Ellie,

I didn’t want to tell you, but L’s doing an interview tonight @ 7 with NTNS . It’s the first since the breakup, I’ll be watching so if you don’t end up doing so, I can tell you what happened. There’s food in the fridge and water in the jug.

-R

A niggling voice told her not to watch it, to take her pasta and get back to bed, but enough was enough.

She wouldn’t let him have this hold over her anymore. She’d told him he ruined her and now, now it was time to heal.

Crumpling the note in her hand and letting it fall to the ground, she sat herself on the couch and picked up the remote, the channel already set to the show hosting the interview.

Her breath hitched as the intro music played and Lorcan walked out across the stage, a smile, something completely unnatural and forced, splayed over his lips. Despite the lie he wore, he looked good, but then again, he’d looked good at Aelin’s and nearly every time she saw him before that.

The audience cheered and clapped for him and it nearly made her see red. He did not deserve their applause, did not deserve their praise.

She forced herself to breathe, This anger will only make it hurt more, breathe.

Elide closed her eyes, imagining that she inhaled cold, blue air and exhaled hot, red air that took away her troubles. When she opened her eyes again and they focused on the TV, Lorcan was sitting in the chair, leaning back, his legs spread open. “Yeah, thanks, it’s good to be back,” he said.

The host nodded and then his face grew grave, “Now, Lorcan, all of your fans, we’ve been wondering, how’s this past year been for you, after your break?”

Elide saw the way his eyes shuttered, saw him shift like he was about to lie, but then, “Um, I’m not gonna lie to you guys, it’s been tough, really tough. I struggled a lot and I think it’s, ah, it’s starting to look up so…”

“Well, that’s great, we’re all super happy for you, it’s been a rough-go lately, what with your ex and the cheating scandal-”

“You know, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here tonight,” Lorcan interjected, running his hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. Elide resented that she still knew his tics and habits.

The host nodded, his face portraying slight surprise, “Of course, the floor’s all yours, Lorcan.”

“So as you all know, my fiancée and I broke up about a year ago,” three-hundred and twenty seven days to be exact, “and there were a lot of rumours going around and they’re partly my fault because I didn’t deny any of the claims which led to people taking them as the truth.” He took a large breath, “They aren’t true. I was the one in the wrong, I was the unfaithful one, on multiple occasions, not the other way around. I hurt her, more than I’ve ever hurt another being, and she had had enough.”

The audience and host gasped as Lorcan nodded, confirming the words he said.

Elide was frozen on the spot, not able to move as he admitted everything, on live television, with thousands of viewers. The microwave beeped, but still, she could not move.

Lorcan went on, “That moment of her leaving, I think that was really rock bottom for me. I’m ashamed that it took her reaching her breaking point for me to realize this mess that was my life. So,” he said, bobbing his head in a sort-of nodding manner but not quite, “I got sober and started to try and fix things.”

“Oh, you guys are back together, that’s wonderful-”

Lorcan let out a harsh laugh, “Oh, gods, no. No, she’s not really the type of woman that gets her heart broken and comes crawling back,” he paused for a moment, “and I wouldn’t want her any other way.”

The host tilted his head to the side, “Some might say it’s better to forgive and forget.”

“Hm.” It was clear Lorcan did not agree and Elide had to stop herself from laughing. “It’s, it’s not as simple as that. It’s not a fairytale romance, it’s gritty and painful and she’s still hurting because of it. It wasn’t exactly easy for her either, this past year.”

“Well, you know,” the host started, spreading his hands and Elide just knew she wouldn’t like what he was saying, “there is a risk in all relationships you enter, it’s not like you meant to hurt her. And she left you.”

Lorcan frowned for a second, his hands curling into loose fists and she sat up, her eyes widening and she silently begged Hellas to control him, to not let his spitfire temper catch a spark. “I don’t really think that my intentions mattered because I did cause her pain, regardless of what I wanted to do. It’s not hard to leave when you’ve been driven out by your partner. The blame lies fully with me.”

“Do you think there’s any hope for you two?”

He sighed heavily, tilting his head to the side, “I-I don’t really know. I’ll always love her, but obviously, it’s not up to me. If it was, I would undo everything I did and we’d have never broken up.”

“I think I can say for everyone here at NTSN and, I’m sure, our lovely viewers at home, we wish you the best of luck, Lorcan.” Elide hated the host’s voice, slick and oily. “Now, I know you had something you wanted to share with us, something about new music?”

Lorcan nodded, “Yeah, ah, it was originally just a passion project I wrote in rehab and when I got out I played the song for my friend and she basically told me she would skin me alive if I didn’t write her an entire EP so here we are.” There was a grin tugging at his rosy lips, a twinkle of something playful in his eyes and Elide just knew the friend had been Aelin.

That little spark in his dark eyes had her remembering, remembering everything good about them. How on rainy mornings when neither of them wanted to get up, he would hold her tightly against him or how they would stay in the shower until the water ran cold, too busy to notice when they were caught up in each other. Late at night, she would find him in the kitchen, shirtless as he made waffles or maybe French toast if he was feeling jumpy. Lazy afternoons spent basking in the sun and then he would jump up, his fingers itching to create something beautiful.

He called her his muse, his inspiration. The only thing keeping him going, he told her. Everything, everything… was all for her.

Blinking back tears, she focused back on the screen that showed the love of her life because despite herself, despite every single thing that had happened, that would never go away. A part of her soul would always be his.

The audience was clapping as he was handed a guitar and spent a couple moments tuning it before he picked out a gentle, lovely, melody and sang.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan quelled the shaking in his hands as he passed the guitar off, offering a fake grin and nod to the cheering audience. They had eaten up the song, chanting Encore when he let the last note ring out and the cameras cut for a commercial break. An attendant came to grab the guitar he had never touched a day before in his life. It didn’t sound right, hadn’t sounded right any time he’d played it.

Aelin, Fenrys, even Rowan, who hadn’t forgiven him, Rowan, who had crossed his arms and glowered at him every time they saw each other, told him it was perfect and that she would love it. But Lorcan knew it wouldn’t reach perfection until he played it on that beat up guitar, his and her initials carved into the neck, until she told him it was.

“In five, four, three, two…” the lights came back on and he plastered that uncomfortable smile back on his lips, nodding as the audience cheered and the host praised him.

“I’m going to have to say that may be my new favourite song of yours, that snippet you played was beautiful, just beautiful. Now, um, when you reached out to us for the interview, you told us you had some rather important news to share?”

His heartbeat quickened and his hands became clammy. Lorcan nodded, swallowing past his tight throat. “Yes, I, ah, I wanted to share with you that this album will be my last. It’s been a journey and it’s time for me and my music to say goodbye.”

The audience and host gasped theatrically, “Surely you’re not talking about retirement?”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve been home and I realized that everything I need was right where I was. I’ve been chasing something for a long time and I never knew what it was until I lost her. It’s time for me to say goodbye and let a new kid dazzle you all.”

Forty-five minutes later, Lorcan was standing on his balcony, his forearms braced against the railing as he watched the busy streets of Orynth move. His hands shook and he wished for something, a drink or cigarette, anything to take the trembling away. He gritted his teeth and sipped from the glass of water next to him, hearing his phone blow up as it had been all night after his retirement announcement.

His phone started ringing with a ringtone he didn’t remember so he picked it up, not recognizing the number calling him. He accepted the call and held it to his ear, “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s... me.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

im not even sorry 🤷‍♂️ thank u @westofmoon 4 helping me bounce ideas n stuff 💛💛💛 and @shyvioletcat for being my lovely lil beta again!!

@myfeyrelady @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westjades @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeit @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @ella-enchanted27 @noodlecatposts @cridhe-teine

#evil woman #ew 2 #elorcan #elorcan angst #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #oh frick im still not sorry doe #isa writes #nalgenewhore #don't b mad!#tw drugs #tw drug abuse #tw addiction #tw cheating

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

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Kira Vol 2 (1)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 1: Where The Heart Heals

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: Okay. I’m putting it out there. I wrote this for myself. And that’s what I am trying to do right now. I don’t know how regular I will be with this but I will be writing when I feel it.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If I could feel this again... The heaviness of your eyes feels like a blessing even when the warmth of the sun is gently stroking your forehead, delicately whispering sweet nothings to wake you up. You know your mother has already woken up for she is the reason the door is open and that chilled winter air is nudging the sun rays to get as much of the playfield over your exposed skin as it can. The teasing play going between the two forces becomes a soothing episode for your nerves, enjoying the lazy winter morning with the sparrows chirping on that one malacca tree still standing in your front yard. The chill draft that swirls to lands on your unaware fingertips, brings with it the familiar dissatisfied woof and one rage-filled yelp, making you smile even with your eyes closed. You can even hear the disgruntled remarks of some boomers out on their morning stroll cursing your poor babies for growing so big and healthy and barking at any stranger that was not welcome in their territory. If I could feel this every single day...

Your eyes finally open from a dreamless sleep, ready to bask in the lukewarm light directly hitting your eyes. The bliss is incomprehensible; to wake up to the sight of the green that is surviving the winter chill in the garden right outside your room. A few sparrows are looking for an early grub in the pots kept right outside your door, seeming to catch a glance or two in your direction when you stir and let your head rest on your hands to watch the life of winter make you grateful for this morning. More grateful when a familiar spotted figure jumps down from the neighbour's wall and passes by your door with the quietest yet graceful gait. "Kitty!" you exclaim without any voice escaping your hoarse throat, making you chuckle at your own failed display of excitement. A long stretch that cracks a few knots and makes you squirm while you squeeze your eyes shut; that is what it takes to finally convince you to get out of the cosiest quilt on this entire planet. It is a task to find your socks under the huge green buffed up fabric but you do not want to step down till you are sure your sensitive feet are secure. Once the pair is found after a round of tossing and turning the poor quilt, you are ready to open your door and step into the garden. And what a sight it is! The balmy morning sun is bringing life out into the streets. Children fresh out of school for their Christmas holidays are riding their colourful bikes around while their parents or guardians spew caution at them. Vendors are out with their carts and wagons, bringing about fresh produce while the riveting bark of the bike that brings the fresh milk for some households waits for the man of that particular house to bring out their vessels. The air has the perfect crispiness of winter twirling all around you. There is no doubt that the sun has colluded with the sweet-smelling chilly breeze to bring the blood to your cheeks and fingertips. The bliss that this simple day can be for an entire lifetime... A whine followed by a protest-filled howl catches your attention in the moment you are taking in this rare morning. Turning your head to look across the fence, you watch those familiar sharp blue eyes looking you with a sour expression. Right. This drama queen. The protest does not stop. "I'm coming," you groan, "I'm coming," you stress as you walk across the garden to open the gate and walk barely five steps across the narrow road to greet the fluffy boy pretending to be mad at you while vigorously wagging his tail. "We literally met last night, you dumb husky!" you coo through your teeth while scratching Ghost behind his ear. "You stoopid loving boi. My best floofy boi." You call out as many names as you can to the huge beast that wants to lick you clean but isn't getting the chance to. So, instead, he decides to take your wrist into his mouth, continuing to whine at the same time, wanting to keep you there till he loses interest in you. "I blame your mother for not training you to respect me, you dumb floof," you state as you make him look you in the eyes, "I fed you and bathed you and played with you when you hadn't even opened your eyes. And this is how you repay me? By giving me scratches and sticking drool all over my elbows?" Growing uncomfortable- and a double chin, the way you are holding his face- he huffs and jumps away from his fence to let you know he is done with you for the day. "Ungrateful bitch," you mutter in his direction while he looks for more leaves to chomp on, "I still love you." Ghost does not even side-eye you. He knows you stand there smiling at him while he goes about eating anything green in his sight, only bothered when he hears the rev of a car pass by. The attention span to that little distraction is short-lived too. "Okay," you sing in a way you think might get on his nerves, "I'm going back then. You won't get to see me till our late night walk." Any little hope that this dog with an attitude would actually look up at you is gone when the same car comes back. Let's see if that car can feed you pancakes. Still looking at the white-furred beast, you are hurt right in your feels to watch his huge paws go up on the fence again to judge whoever sits in the car that has stopped right by the side of your house, the panting paused to scrutinise the strangers in the SUV with tinted glasses. "Really," you nudge his lower jaw as you address him with a simmering gaze, "I get a howl and yank on my hand but some stranger gets a full minute of silence?" You nudge his jaw again, not really liking the point-blank stare he is giving to whosoever is getting out of the car behind you. You are about to nudge him the third time when a voice freezes your hand mid-air. "I guess he does not like my presence that much." The heaviness of the voice with a gravity of its own stops everything around it for an elongated moment. Even with the cold surrounding you, the warmth that engulfs your chest is far more evident over your skin once all the nerves light up at the thought of turning around and finding him standing there. So, you do. And the smile that escapes you is far brighter than this December sun. "Heimdall."

It is heavenly to hear his name from you after what seems like months stretched into ages. What acts as a balm to his heart is watching your face with carrying the same perfection it did the first day he met you; maybe even lovelier. If he had a sister... "Kira," he sweetly announces into the air before wrapping his arms around you for a hug; something that you gladly welcome, and embrace him back. "I missed you," you squirm into his coat, smelling the mildly spicy cologne he is wearing. Heimdall chuckles. "Who's bothering you? Just point me and I'll take care of the rest." You giggle and draw yourself back to look at those warm honey eyes. "I missed you because I hadn't felt like someone was spying on me for the last two months. Almost felt weird." You shrug, pressing your lips to stop the smile from pouring out while Heimdall groans. "I'm never ever going to hear the end of, am I?" he closes his eyes and sighs. You shake your head before snickering. The pleasant meet-up makes you forget about the prying neighbourhood that has eyes everywhere, lurking behind every curtain to look at this strange, well-built man coming out the blue in an expensive vehicle to hug you- a single woman who should have been married by now instead of meeting strange men, according to them. From the rooftop to the eyes that are pretending to buy vegetables and groceries, everyone is centred on this tall dark and handsome man putting all their sons and husbands to shame. "So-" you poke him in his abdomen- still surprised it's hard as a rock- "what brings you here?" A knowing nod and a deep inhale is all Heimdall gives you for a moment, his habit making his eyes wander everywhere to look for anything unusual. "I...uhh...well-" he inhales through his teeth this time- "we wanted to check in on you. Wanted to see how you were doing. Because everyone misses you back home." "Oh." You feel your breath stuck in your throat. Your inner voice is already elbowing the corner of your nerves, wanting to hear you speak the name for yourself. But you just shove her back into the sleepy comfy corner for the moment. "Yeah," Heimdall smiles, "Zair misses you because he, and I quote, 'cannot even with this new temp some boomer hired in Kira's place'." You snicker. Typical Zair. "Yigrette misses you because it's mundane living with men in the house after a while." "Aww," you feel for your sweet keeper. "Fenrir misses you too, obviously. He has made your bedroom his bedroom. And it has been hard getting him to come out of there now." That floofly baby. I miss him too. Ghost hears that thought and the very next moment, his paw comes to tap on your shoulder and look at you with every ounce of judgment his blue eyes can hold towards you. "And Robert too, now that he is all healed and is ready to take more bullets." "Noooo," you groan into your palms. That idiot. You wait and watch Heimdall smile at you, standing there as your inner voice is wondering- with her face resting in her palms and legs in the air- if there is anyone else who is missing you. "Soooo...-" your voice trails away as you wipe your thoughts by rubbing your hands on your pyjamas- "everyone misses me, huh." Heimdall is about to nod before he stops and creases his brows, forcing you to furrow your own brows in return. "Mm...not everyone though." You can feel the little sinking feeling before your heart has even taken a dive from the board it currently stands on. "Hm?" is all you can bear to say. "Oh, it's Loki. I was talking about Loki. He doesn't miss you," Heimdall shakes his head. And your heart doesn't even do a routine; it just takes a sad plunge into whatever waits for it down in the pits of unwelcoming sadness. "Oh," you inhale the cold air to soothe your insides that are simmering now for some reason, "that's...good. That's good. He isn't missing on work. Or cursing me for not being there to do my work." And just like that, you are trailing into a long train of afterthoughts to console yourself. "That means he is doing pretty well in my absence...which is good...for uhh...for the company. Hmm." Heimdall cannot help but smile at the sorry look on your face to think that your boss does not care about your presence- or absence in this matter. Those y/e/c eyes are at the verge of questioning some major emotions as they let the Watcher's words sink in. It takes a lot more than a dig at lips by his perfect teeth to stop him from giving it away. "No," he finally blurts out, grabbing your attention while internally cursing himself to put you through that for a few seconds of entertainment, "you are thinking in the wrong direction." This time you look at him in confusion. "Heimdall, what are you tryin-" "He does not miss you," he continues, still looking at you when his arm extends by his side to open the door to the back seat of the SUV and relish the two-second delayed reaction, "because 'missing' would be an understatement."

The last thing he remembers is the blur of the days that have gone by till he is once more standing at the single path of stone decorated with everything that he declares too delicate for this world. Deep inside he has nothing but love for them. Everything too pure for this universe resides in this little ecosystem at the edge of where his world begins. From the ferns and creepers to the fishes and flowers- every little cell has a story of surviving all those perils to come down the path of evolution as much more beautiful. He stands right there and stares straight down the path that leads to the corner that he had begun to cherish some time ago. He pauses his day there, before every break of dawn and every splay of dusk, waiting. What exactly he waits for, no one knows. Some onlookers think he has gone much more insane after the brawl he barely crawled out alive from. They wonder what he keeps looking at in that corner, watching the sun both rise and set there. Some feel empathy for him. Yigrette walks by the lounge every single day to witness this little ritual of her master. Her soft heart aches a little for she knows somewhere he feels the absence of the one little alum that settled all the dirt inside him till it was present in the murky waters. But she does not know the depth of that emotion, neither does she want to insult her master by trying to measure it somehow. And the last time she sees him, he walks towards that edge in the night. He remembers stepping barefoot on that cold stones carrying the chilly impression of the foggy weather outside that has shrouded the vastness of his estate into one quiet graveyard where even the lights of the city do not reach. The distance- thought not much- feels worth an eternity for him as his heart accelerates. The only thought riding the unstoppable train inside his mind is the ghost of a chance of seeing you there. The lights turn on once he enters the space- they turn on for him to stare at the empty space that was once thought of as a decent wing to match the rest of the house, not really knowing what weight it would hold in the future. And here he stands, contemplating whether this part of his house had ever felt so bland before. So...hollow. He is slowly killing himself on the inside to refrain himself from touching anything for the fear of diluting your essence- or whatever is left of it- and instead, he does what he has watched you do a hundred times over. The tiles are cooler than they were the last time he laid down on them. The only time he entered your abode. That time when he watched over you for endless nights till he has to be forced to sleep for his health and yours. But how could he? You were surrounded by wires and tubes, and beeping machines that scared him even at the slightest beep. He rose up to look at you for any movement of discomfort when he himself was experiencing pain that would have bedridden any other ordinary man. Not wanting to get away from your side, he laid himself down out in the lounge. And then he found out why you did this after a long day. It feels nice to let the cold floor take away all the unnecessary thoughts swinging inside his head. Little fears that crowd his mind dissolve and drain down into the ground. Then, for the first time in the past few weeks, he lets his conscience paint a picture of you drowning in happiness. Even as the fear erodes the edges of his heart- that you are happy somewhere other than here- he finds comfort in your smile that is still fresh in his mind. Even though the dark clouds loom on those waves- the thoughts that tell him you have forgotten him- he still lets your laughter roar through his existence. A delicate experience in the cold of December.

Today sleep comes earlier than he anticipates. His eyes are heavier than they usually are. He wants to give in to the arms of slumber because the last time he slept like a baby was when you were healing. He wants to walk towards the lullaby of this pretty siren till he notices it is the first time he has felt such sleep take over him ever since you have been gone. Hold on a second... He opens his eyes- barely- and gets up on his elbow. "Yigrette," he wants to shout but the name is just a questionable statement as he feels his limbs get heavy. There is a silhouette of a figure patiently walking towards the lounge that is a hazy picture to his eyes. But his brain still works enough to realise he has been somehow made a victim of forced unconsciousness. Feeling his face touch the cold tile of the floor, he vows to take them by the throat- whoever spiked his drinks or meal and made the terrible decision of knocking him out cold. And everything goes dark. Dark...till he can hear a familiar giggle somewhere in the void. Along with a sweet aroma that brings to the surface memories that were feared lost. His heart wants him to reach out for that voice that is beginning to clear the fog inside the dense forest that is his mind. And so the heart does what he does best, it slows down too much to let the brain jerk him awake. The sun shines right over his face when a door opens somewhere, flooding his being with brightness through and through. He has to make an effort to open his eyes after a much-needed sleep, watching the rays hit his smaragdines till they are filtered and washed away by the one face he longs to see for the rest of his life. "Loki?" you call out with the softest emotion on your face as the sun rays reflecting inside the car lets your features shine for him. He blinks; still trying to figure out if it is a dream or if you do stand in front of him. "....Kira?" That voice wants to give all its strength to call out your name, wanting to bring you into existence if you are a figment of his imagination- something that is his worst fear of all. And there you stand with a smile painting your lips for him, taking his first conscious breath in this new morning away. And all he wants is to pray to some force to not let this be a twisted nightmare. "It's good to see you...sir." And that full-toothed smile melts him- front, back and sideways- while the world watches from windows and roofs, questioning Fate and her strings, for better or worse. If I could feel this again...I would want to feel it with you.

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kkintle · 4 years ago

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Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen; Quotes

The heart is on the left side also in emperors.

And as he sat, it occurred to him that maybe the fairy tale had gone into hiding, like the princesses in the old folk tales, and now had to be sought out. If she were found, she would shine with a new splendor, more beautiful than ever before. “Who knows? Maybe she lies hidden (…)

Tragedy was bottled in champagne bottles that start out with a bang, as tragedy should

“He’s sure like a human being, that pixie!” said the old cat. “Just one sweet miaow from the mistress, a miaow about himself, and he immediately changes his mind. She is clever, Madame.” But she wasn’t clever. It was the pixie who was human. If you can’t understand this story, ask about it, but don’t ask the pixie or the Madame.

An actor once told me that when he played a lover he thought about just one person in the audience. He played to her and forgot the rest of the spectators.

“I could have said that better,” thought the critic, but he didn’t say it out loud, and that was already really something.

You can’t learn imagination.” “But what shall I do to make my living by writing?” “Oh, you can manage that by Shrove Tuesday! Become a critic! Knock down the poets. Knock down their writings—that’s just like knocking them. Just don’t be over-awed. Hit at them without ceremony. You’ll get enough dough to support both yourself and a wife!” “You’ve hit upon the very thing!” said the young man, and he knocked down all the poets because he couldn’t become one himself.

When the clock struck five the five senses were there. Sight came as a maker of eye glasses. Hearing was a coppersmith. Smell was selling violets and woodruff. Taste was a cook, and Feeling was a funeral director with mourning crepe hanging down to his heels.

People who are dead can’t walk again, we know that very well, but works of art can haunt. The body was broken, but not the spirit. The spirit of art was spooking, and that was no spoofing matter.

I have something of the poet in me, but not enough. Often when I’m walking the city streets, it seems to me like I’m in a big library. The houses are bookcases and each story a shelf with books. There stands an everyday story. There a good old fashioned comedy. There are scientific works about all kinds of subjects. Here smut and good literature. I can fantasize and philosophize about all that literature.

There’s something of the poet in me, but not enough. Many people have just as much of it as I have and yet don’t carry a sign or a collar with poet written on it. They and I have been given a gift from God, a blessing big enough for oneself, but much too small to be parceled out to others. It comes like a sunbeam and fills your soul and mind. It comes like a waft of flowers, like a melody you know but can’t remember from where.

“People are like milk that curdles. Some become fine cottage cheese and others thin, watered whey. Some people are lucky in everything, always given the place of honor, and never knowing sorrow or want.”

Everyone has his burdens to bear. We’re not alone in it, and there’s a comfort in that.

There was an open casket standing in the middle of the church floor with a dead man in it, soon to be buried. Since he had a clear conscience, Johannes wasn’t afraid at all, and he knew that the dead hurt no one; it’s evil living people who cause harm.

She looked at all the innumerable little stones on the shore; the water had polished them smooth. Glass, iron, stone—everything that was washed up on the beach had been shaped by water, water that was softer still than her white hand. “They roll tirelessly, and so they smooth out the roughness; I’ll be just as tireless! Thank you for your wisdom, you clear rolling waves.

It’s true that the sea is softer than your fine hands and can shape the hard stones, but it doesn’t feel the pain your fingers will feel. It has no heart and doesn’t suffer the dread and terror you must tolerate.

“You can make one up,” said the little boy. “Mother says that everything you look at can become a fairy tale, and that you can get a story from everything you touch.” “But those fairy tales and stories are no good! No, the real ones come by themselves. They knock at my forehead and say, ‘Here I am!’”

Then they did the hardest dance, the one that’s called “stepping out of the dance.”

Here’s my card. I live on the sunny side of the street, and I’m always home when it rains.” And then the shadow went away.

But we can take comfort that the soul is most clever when it’s on its own. The body only dumbs it down.

The air and light were the flower’s lovers, but light was the favorite. It turned to the light, and if that disappeared, it rolled its petals together and slept in the embrace of the air. “It’s light that adorns me,” said the flower. “But the air lets you breathe,” whispered the poet’s voice.

As is the case with anything done thoroughly, the galoshes could only do one thing at a time.

Our greatest sufferings here we don’t impart, You who were alone at last, and often; Know that in life much presses harder on the heart Than all the soil that’s cast upon your coffin.

The little pixie grabbed the wonderful book from the table, put it inside his red cap, and held on to it with both hands. The greatest treasure in the house was saved! Then he ran off, way out onto the roof and up on the chimney, where he sat illuminated by the burning house across the street, and with both hands he held onto his red cap that held the treasure. Now he knew his own heart and knew to whom he really belonged. But when the fire had been extinguished, and he thought about it; well—“I’ll divide myself between them,” he said. “I can’t completely give up the grocer, because of the porridge.” And that was quite human of him! The rest of us go to the grocer too, for the sake of the porridge.

“Come out on the roof, little Rudy,” was one of the first things the cat said, and Rudy understood. “All that about falling is just imagination. You won’t fall if you aren’t afraid of falling. Come on, set one paw like this, and the other like this! Feel your way with your front paws. Use your eyes, and be flexible in your limbs. If there’s a gap, then jump and hold on. That’s what I do.”

When you’re a child and can’t talk yet, you can understand hens and ducks, cats and dogs very well indeed. They are just as easy to understand as father and mother when you are really small. Even grandfather’s cane can whinny and become a horse with a head, legs, and tail. Some children lose this understanding later than others, and people say that those children are slow in developing and are children for an exceedingly long time. People say so many funny things!

(…) but that doesn’t matter because I have gotten this much out of it: things are not distributed quite the way they should be, either for dogs or for people in this world. Not everyone is created to sit on laps or drink milk.

Never think that you will fall, and you’ll manage!”

You have to climb, and you won’t fall down if you believe you won’t.

When you meet someone from your home when you are far away, then you speak to each other like you know each other.

Luck was with him, as it always is for those who believe in themselves and remember that “God gives us the nuts, but he doesn’t crack them open for us.”

Water is so soft and yet so strong. It has a back to bear weight, and a mouth with which to swallow. Gently smiling, softness itself and yet a terror, with shattering strength.

“The world has no more joy to give me.” Words uttered in an abundance of happiness, repeated in a torrent of grief.

“Little Kai is with the Snow Queen and finds everything to his liking. He thinks it’s the best place in the world, but that’s because he has gotten a splinter in his heart and a little chip of glass in his eye. They have to come out first, or he’ll never become human again, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him.”

He was carrying around some sharp, flat pieces of ice which he positioned in all sorts of ways, trying to make something out of it. It’s like when the rest of us use little wooden pieces and make figures from them. It’s called a tangram. Kai was also making figures and very complicated ones. It was the game of Icy Reason. To his eyes the figures were quite excellent and of the very highest importance. That was because of the bit of glass in his eye!

Then Kai burst into tears. He cried so that the splinter of glass washed out of his eye. He recognized her and cried joy fully, “Gerda! sweet little Gerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?” He looked around. “How cold it is here! How big and empty it is!” and he held Gerda tight.

A tail wind for one is head wind for another.

“Cattle die, kinsmen die, one day you die yourself; I know one thing that never dies— the dead man’s reputation.”

In those days the saying was: “The herds know when it’s time to go home and give up grazing, but a foolish man will always forget the size of his stomach.”

They knew that, all right, but do as I say, not as I do! They also knew that “love turns to loathing if you sit too long on someone else’s bench,” but still they stayed. Meat and mead are good things!

“I don’t quite understand it,” said stork mother, “but that’s not my fault. It’s the idea’s fault. But it doesn’t make any difference because I have other things to think about.”

Then they repeated this and wrote it up as a prescription : “Love brings forth life,” but how the whole thing was going to be worked out, they didn’t know.

They say that raindrops hollow out the hard rock. Over time the waves of the sea polish the angular stones until they’re round. The dew of grace that fell over little Helga hollowed out the hardness and rounded the sharpness. But she didn’t recognize that, didn’t know it herself. Does the seed in the earth, when it’s dampened by life-giving moisture and the warm rays of the sun, know that it hides growth and a flower within itself?

“Everyone flies in his own way,” said stork father. “The swans diagonally, the cranes triangularly and the plovers in curves like a snake.”

Better to have something in your tummy when you’re alive than be made a fuss of when you’re dead!

People don’t always go straight to hell, but they can get there the long way around, if they have talent.

Tears of sorrow that a mother cries for her child always reach the child, but they don’t set it free—they only burn and make the torment greater.

“The Portuguese is a gifted speaker,” they said. “We don’t use such great big words, though our sympathy for you is as great. But if we don’t do anything for you, we’ll be quiet about it. We find that the noblest.”

It’s so cold here that the clouds freeze to pieces and fall down in little white patches.” It was snow she meant, but she couldn’t explain it any better.

Oh, to grow, to grow, to become big and old! That’s the only beauty in this world, thought the tree.

“Enjoy your youth!” said the sunbeams. “Enjoy your fresh growth, and the young life that’s in you!” And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew cried tears over it, but the spruce tree didn’t understand.

“Take pleasure in us,” said the air and the sunshine. “Be happy in your fresh youth out in the open air!” But the tree wasn’t happy at all. It grew and grew. Both winter and summer it was green. Dark green it stood there, and people who saw it said, “that’s a lovely tree,” and at Christmas it was cut first. The ax cut deeply through the pith, and the tree fell with a sigh to the earth. It felt a pain and a powerless-ness, and couldn’t think of any joy. It felt saddened to be parted from its home, from the spot where it had grown up. It knew, of course, that it would never again see its dear companions, the small bushes and flowers all around, maybe not even the birds. The departure was not at all pleasant.

“How lovely the world is!” said the caterpillar. “The sun is so warm! Everything is so pleasant. And when I shall one day fall asleep and die, as it’s called, I’ll wake up and be a butterfly!”

“I’ve let myself be taken by surprise,” he said, “so I’d better surprise them too.” And he did. He was gone. Gone all day, gone all night (…)

“The world isn’t so bad after all,” said the dung beetle. “You just have to know how to take it.”

Here he could live, but “living is not enough,” he said. “You must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower!”

The flower understood it in his fashion, as we understand things in ours.

“How terribly alone he must have been,” she said. “Terribly alone,” said the tin soldier, “but it’s lovely not being forgotten!”

No, rather with friendly handshakes, and they get bread and pastries from each other because foreign food tastes best.

Harsh words bear harsh fruit. How would this end?

“The less you know, the less you’re burdened,” said Mother Søren.

Embedded in Andersen’s story is a notion that good tales can expose even the storyteller.

#fairy tales #hans christian andersen #fiction #literature #danish literature #quotes

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rollingthunder06 · 5 years ago

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lover

hello all! i was going to write the next installment to spring but i wrote this instead so... yeah. tw for cursing, alcohol abuse, and blood (technically it’s ichor but whatever)

————————————-

“You look like shit sister.”

Persephone sarcastically laughed, her head on the bar’s counter and her hand clutched around the bottle of wine sitting on top of it. “A queen in all her glory.” She remarked dryly.

The stool next to her slid out, and she winced at the scratching on the floor. She was in a state of being drunk somewhere between feeling and numb, a few drinks past a lovely buzz.

“Brought what ya asked for.” Persephone lifted her head to take the large bouquet of dead and dried chamomile from Hermes. “Thanks.” She tilted the bottle to him before taking a long drink.

“You sleepin’ good, sis?”

Oh hell no. Even drunk she knew what he was doing. Getting predictable in his old age.

“I don’t sleep.”

A true fact. She’d didn’t sleep until her body gave out and she crashed for a few hours. Or days, depending what she had in her system. She couldn’t remember the last time she properly slept during the winter. Gods knows she hasn’t made it up to her bed in weeks. Her beds now consisted of sofa’s, floors, her office in the speakeasy, and Cerberus. Not comfortable to say the least but better better than the sharp rock and smog outside.

“You eatin’?”

Persephone glared, but Hermes didn’t back down from his questions. Never let her just brush ‘em off anymore. He pressed, and she hated it.

“Nah but y’know that.” She started to slur and stared at the bottle in her hands, brows furrowed. Of all times for her wine to start betraying her why did it have to be when she was in front of Hermes?

There was remnants of snow on his jacket. Was it because of her? Her and her stupid husband that argued earlier because she wanted him to spend the damn morning with her. But no, he couldn’t see it that way.

“I can’t just not work-“

“I’m asking for one damn morning! Don’t I deserve to have my husband for one damn morning?!”

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from flinging her hand. “Deserve? You wanna talk about deserve, lover,” It wasn’t used as an endearing term it was cruel and vile. “, I think I deserve a wife who treats me with respect, not that resenting bullshit you pull! A wife who can stand by herself cause she ain’t drunk off her ass already!”

Tears pricked her eyes, his words ringing in her ears. Persephone tilted the bottle back again and emptied its contents. She could feel her brother’s gaze burning into her side.

“You can go.”

He lingered a moment, she could feel it. Then the door shut leaving the speakeasy silent, save for the ringing of the mines that weren’t too far.

Clank.

A symphony gone so wrong.

Clank.

How did they go so wrong?

Clank.

How did she let them go so wrong?

Clank.

Why in all of the realms had Hades married her? Or why hadn’t he divorced her yet? She was an awful wife, an even worse queen. Couldn’t give him a heir, now it seemed like she couldn’t even give him a kiss without it ending in a fight.

She loved her husband more than anything, and maybe this was just the liquor, but did he still love her back?

He didn’t act like it.

He acted like he didn’t want a damn thing to do with her anymore, and honestly she didn’t blame him. It’d been a long time since she’d even recognized her reflection when she looked in the mirror. But it’s not like he was helping either.

He could try.

No, the only one who fucking tries is her.

The bottle crashed next to her, and she blinked. Glass shards poked out of her hand where the bottle’d broken but she didn’t feel them. Not as she pulled out the shards and ichor spilled out the dozens of tiny open wounds and down onto her dress.

Everything hurt in it’s own way, and it all just loomed over her like a storm cloud ready to strike at any moment. The kind that blocked out the sun so much you couldn’t tell if it was ever coming back out.

Persephone looked at her blood and laughed. She didn’t care, and was completely sure Hades wouldn’t. The only thing that’d piss him off was that she was getting ichor on her expensive dress. A dress that he’d bought her, and of course that meant she was trying to undermine him in some way.

Her man, what a fucking ego he has.

If she so much as breathes the wrong way he takes it personally. It wasn’t always like this, why- how did it get so bad? She never did a damn thing to deserve this lack of trust.

She never once even considered anyone other than him, while she watched him lead countless young girls up to his office and undo his tie before slamming the old door. Not that she actually thought they did a damn thing up there.

She knew he bluffed to make her jealous. She knew that he wouldn’t actually do a fucking thing behind those big ass doors because deep down he was a coward. Deep down he was afraid of her.

Deep down she was afraid of him.

Maybe that’s why they were drawn together in the first place. Death craved life and life craved death, despite the fact they could kill each other with a glance.

She craved death that night in the garden. Every kiss he pressed to her skin, every scar she discovered on her lover’s body. Persephone had wanted adventure, she wanted to feel the burning flame Hades ignited in her forever.

Now that flame was dull and desperately needed to be kindled. She needed to hear him say it. She needed him to tell her he loved her. She needed to hear the three words.

She wanted to feel his lips blessing her skin with their touch. His hand gentle in her hair, while hers were harsh in his. Instead all she got was to be lonely and bleeding in an empty bar her husband didn’t even care enough to try and find. He didn’t care where she spent her time when he cast her out to the other side of his office doors. He didn’t care where or why she drank till her mind didn’t work anymore. Till thinking was too hard and all she could do was exist in an empty state of nothingness until it ran out.

He didn’t give a damn if she slept for days, and woke up wondering if he’d even noticed her absence or if he was just happy she was finally leaving him alone.

He used to care about her. He used to sleep late and stay in bed even longer with her. He used to let her sit in his office while he made contracts, and let her review them. He used to kiss her and hold her as close to him as he could all the time she was home. He used to call her by the flowers that bloomed in their wedding garden. He used to say her fucking name.

She could barely remember what her name sounded like coming from her her husband’s lips. Now it was just lover, as if that’s all she was to him.

That all she was is his lover.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #rt writes #hades #persephone #hades hadestown #persephone hadestown #hades and persephone #hades/seph #angst #fanfic #hadestown fanfiction #pre-canon

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jj-lynn21 · 5 years ago

Text

HOLLYWOOD MOBSTERS Starring Bill Skarsgard and his family ch 6

ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 ch 5 ch 7

Warnings: violence discussed, cussing, angst, smut, fluff

Bunny’s bedroom dance: Love Me Like You Do

Photos from esquire Singapore September 2019, Calvin Klein, IMDB and Ejalo’s Instagram

Bunny shimmies out of Bill’s arms in the morning. She is getting her outfit back on when Bill wakes.

“You ok?” He asked as he sat up body drizzled with sweat from sleeping so close to her.

She tied the outfit around her neck looking at him acting all nonchalant, “Yeah, I’m cool. No big deal.”

Bill whines, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I just meant to make you feel good. But if you want to leave, I won’t stop you or anything. Just…” He laid back down pulling the sheet over his head turning away. “Don’t tell Alex I fucked up again. He will kill me for hurting you. I can’t believe this wasn’t fucking real.”

“What?” bunny looks over at him. When she sees Bill has buried himself, she goes to sit on the side of the bed. “Bill you made me feel things I never thought I would or could with a man but I thought you were just looking for a one night stand to make you feel better, feel something good.”

“I’m not fucking like that at all Bunny,” He cried under the sheet that shielded him. “But get the fuck out of here. I will get my own place soon enough. You do not ever have to see me again. Before Genna there were other women who I thought cared but fucked me and left. You are not the first and you probably will not be the last. You were fucking leaving so get the fuck out already.”

“Bill,” She rubbed his back though the sheet. “I haven’t even slept with anyone in ten years. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe you could possibly care for me. Look at me baby boy, please.”

Bill throws the sheet off and sits up to look at Bunny. His eyes red. “Don’t hurt me Mommy.” He touched her cheek.

She leans into his touch. “That’s a good boy. Mommy’s going to dance for you, okay?”

“I’d like that,” Bill smiled innocently. “Mommy can I kiss you before you dance for me.”

She nods. He moves in slowly as they close their eyes. His lips lightly brush over hers before staying for a long deep kiss. He pulls away. “I’m ready to watch you now Mommy.”

She gets up to go to the pole by the windows. Alex has a stripper pole in just about every room of the place. Girls, other than Bunny, have taken special clients to the bedrooms. It is an extra two-thousand-dollar fee but all have said they got their money’s worth and tipped the girls extra well for the evening. Bunny flips through the music on the phone and plays Love Me Like You Do for her special routine for bill’s eyes only. Bill gets out of bed completely naked to walk over to her when she is done. His arousal on display.

“Mommy can you help me now?” Bill looked shyly at her. He had a way of acting so innocent when he was looking less than innocent.”

“Oh, baby boy of course Mommy will always take good care of you when you are such a good boy.” She untied her outfit to let it fall off of her. “Just no more pouting or whiling or Mommy will have to discipline you.”

Bill nodding. He would pick another time to test what she would do to him. Bunny pushed him back towards the bed. He went willingly falling back when he felt it behind his legs. He watched with wide curious eyes as she straddled him. Bunny put his hands on her hip. She gasped lowering herself to take in his manhood. Whimpering softly her hips rolled to find that spot he hit before. Bill bit his lip watching her as his thrusts pushed in deep.

“Can I touch you more Mommy,” Bill groaned.

“Yes,” Bunny whined.

Bill reached down to work her clit as she road him.

“Fuck, more.” She begged as she road him harder.

When they came together it was like a blessing. Bill held her close. They rested awhile, before Bill ordered Pizza and cloths for her. They showered together making love again before actually getting cleaned up. She threw on a robe. Bill put jeans on to go get the things that should be at the back door. He comes back. Hands her a bag with a new dress and under garments.

Bill stripped his jeans off and got back in bed with a piece of pizza, “You can leave the cloth in the bag. I think its Naked Sunday.” He chuckles.

Bunny giggle as she slides off the robe. She crawls over to him going to take a bite of his pizza. He pulls it away. They are laughing when Alex is walking past the door. He smiles at the match even though it means he can no longer tell her everything that has been on his mind this past week. He knocks.

“How’s everything going?” Alex teases as he listens to them scurry.

Bunny puts her robe back on. Bill slides on some boxers before answering the door.

“We’re fine Alex,” Bill leans on the open door. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in my office,” He smiles at Bunny. “I will just still him away few moments baby girl.”

“Its fine Daddy,” She giggles. “It will give me a chance to put some clean linens on the bed.”

Alex nods with a grin. Him and Bill walk down the hall.

“Its good to see you, happy brother,” Alex opens the door for Bill to step into the office before him. “But business does have to continue.”

“What do you need me to do Alex?” Bill crosses his arms over his bare chest.

“Gustaf is going to have to heal before working again.” Alex poured a scotch on the rocks. He raised it to Bill, “Drink?”

“No thank you,” Bill waves the offer off. “Do you need me to take his place?”

“Yes,” Alex takes a sip of his drink and walks to his desk to sit. “I know you haven’t worked for the family full time since you were fifteen, but we really need you now. Truth be told you were always a bit better at picking things up and dropping them off then Gustaf. He always wants to try to talk to are friends. You intimidate people more. Especially now. It’s a good trait little brother. I don’t even remember why you stopped helping.”

“Because it fucking sucks,” Bill mumbles. “I had other options Alex. I never thought I’d be back in this whole thing. I’m here now. I will help with what ever you need. Do I have to keep secrets from Bunny?”

Alex chuckles, “She knows everything. She’s good to talk to when things go sideways, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Bill blushes.

“Go on and get back to her,” Alex makes a shoo shoo motion with his hand. “Just don’t do anything that makes her want to go against the family. I don’t want to deal with that sort of problem again.”

“What do you mean again?” Bill looked at his brother curiously.

“Nothing,” Alex put his feet up on his desk. “I’m interviewing a possible new girl in a few minutes, Go have your fun with Bunny. Tuesday night you have a job to do.”

Bill nods and heads out. He crosses paths with small nervous looking blonde. He smiles, “break a leg.”

She smiles, “Thanks.”

Bunny and Bill spend the day in bed talking, eating, and having minding blowing sex in her opinion. It is extremely good in his mind. He teaches her some diffident positions that she never thought she would enjoy. He has her toes curling time and time again until he needs to carry her to the bathroom to clean up.

“I better be able to work by Wednesday night,” She laughs.

“We can take a break on Tuesday,” Bill grins.

On Tuesday after he is off work, they decide Bill will move into her loft apartment. They had already been caught naked running after each other in the club by Alex when they thought no one was there. He just suggested they be at least partially dressed when out of the bedroom.

Alex starts sending Bill on runs since Gustaf cannot do it. Everything goes smoother than his first time. Word got around Bill killed all the guys at his first run, so they feared him. The Thomas Family representative just dropped the cash in front of Bill and backed away slowly. Bill grabbed the cash and dropped the products at their bar. Same as he did with Gustaf. He kept the money and cleaned it at his bank the next morning. Bill had gone from not wanting to be apart of the family business at all to doing a shit load of dirty work out of guilt mostly.

Valter’s graduation party was held at the main family home. Angel was by his side stuck to him like glue until Alex needed a private word with him. By that time, she felt comfortable sitting with Eija, Bunny, and Bill. She really wanted to get to know Bunny so maybe she could be a dancer at the club when She moved to Hollywood for Valter. It was perfect timing since two dancers had decided to move on when they were married and only one new dancer was hired. Valter and her were planning to move into Bill’s old place.

Valter grabs a note pad and pen from Alex’s desk as Alex starts to speak.

“We are all so proud you little brother,” Alex gushed

Valter wrote on the paper BUG ON MY CHEST, “Thanks Alex. I worked hard. I’m ready to help the family out how every you need me.”

Alex nods, “I would still like you to work the bar if you would like that. It would entail you balancing the books for that part of the club. You would distribute the tips from the bar tip jar to the girls at the end of the night also. Do you think you could handle that?”

“I could do that. Angel still wants to be a dancer.” Valter writes THEY TOLD ME TO ASK YOU THIS NEXT THIS, “Is there anything more you would like me to do involving other business?” “Angel can try out as soon as the two of you get settled,” Alex nodded his understanding. “Bill is going to be our delivery man of coca cola to the other bars. As long as the other bars don’t try to bully our family to join them in less legal activities. The Malforals are not happy we refused to do all the things they want our club to be involved in. They pretty much admitted to your brother what happened to his girl was their doing. To tell you the truth I would rather not do business them, but I fear we have to so no one else is hurt.”

Alex was willing to sell out the Malforals. Maybe get rid of them for good if the F.B.I. busted into their club and killed or arrested all of them. He knew they would not get taken in without a fight. It would be good enough pay back for trying to kill Bill and Gustaf.

“Probably a smart idea,” Valter said uncomfortably.

“I have some paperwork for you and I to go over since you will be taken over as head bar tender,” Alex takes the paperwork out of the desk for Valter to sign.

Gustaf and Stellan come in from a walk.

Bill stand with Bunny to introduce her. “Papa this is Bunny Nisson.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Skarsgard,” She smiles politely.

Stellan looks a little caught off guard for a moment. Then smiles, “Well isn’t this kismet. I knew your Father Miss Bunny. You and Bill use to play in one of those tot cages your mom liked to use while the adults had tea.” He chuckles. “You’re a very lovely woman. Are you Keeping Bill out of trouble?”

“I’m trying,” She giggled

Alex and Valter walked out of the office.

“Excuse me kids,” Stellan nodded. “I need to speak with Alex. He motioned for Alex to follow him outside.

Bill teases Bunny, “I knew you looked farmilar when I saw you.”

“Yeah,” Bunny giggled, “you seriously remember playing in a playpen with me when we were babies.”

to be continued...

#mobsters #bill skarsgard smut #bill and bunny #bill skarsgard #alex skarsgard #valter skarsgård #Valter Skarsgard and angel #gustaf skarsgard #stellan skarsgard #fiction #fantasy #original story #love #smut #angst

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serahdreamy · 4 years ago

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Three Great Loves

Excerpt: Sometimes the two of them didn’t talk at all, but just sat together. Marie would write, and Elly would read.

Synopsis: When Elly develops feelings for one of the townspeople, it prompts her grandmother to talk about her three great loves in life.

(An Elly story, but actually an Ellen story)

It was a beautiful Spring morning. Elly opened the window to let in some air for her grandmother, and was just about to leave for work. Most days at work are monotonous, with not very many people coming to visit. Elly tried to think of it as a good thing, that it meant no one was sick, and used the extra time to study the Doctor’s medical books.

She turned to Ellen to say goodbye but stopped. Her grandmother was sitting in her chair staring out the window with an unfamiliar expression on her face.

“What’s wrong, grandma?”, Elly asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing dear. I was just thinking about the pond. The one on the mountain”

Elly took her grandmother’s hand, and Ellen peered up at her, smiling.

“One Spring when I was about your age, I went there every day,” Ellen continued.

“Did you really?”

“Oh, yes! It’s too bad I can’t go there now.”.

Her tone was calm and gentle as always, but she had the same faraway look that had drawn Elly’s attention.

“How do your legs feel, grandma?”

“Oh, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me, dear!”

Elly didn’t press further and left for work, but she puzzled over grandmother’s expression. It seemed wistful. Did she miss going to the pond very much? How many things were there that Ellen could no longer do? The list seemed endless, and it broke Elly’s heart to think of her grandmother stuck in her rocking chair, deprived of something as simple as going to a pond. It broke Elly, but also made her determined to find some way to help. She would have to study harder. Read more. She decided firmly that she would go to the library first thing after work.

——————

Marie looked up in surprise from her book.

“Elly! How can I help you?” she asked.

“I was hoping you had some medical books or maybe journals? Perhaps something on degenerative illnesses,” Elly said.

“Oh, oh! Yes. Well, what I mean is, that is, yes, we have medical journals and books,” Marie started. Her words rushed out too quickly, and her face flushed red when she realized this.

“And some might have what you’re looking for, and, well, I’m sure that once you look at them, I mean, um. I’m sorry! Let me show you,” Marie finished. She ran her hands nervously over one of her braids.

They walked together up the stairs, and Marie led her to a shelf in the corner.

“I’m sorry, Elly. I’m not normally- I don’t normally ramble like that. I’m just not used to visitors and you caught me during an exciting chapter in my book.”

Elly stifled a laugh and said, “I might have to read it when you’re done.”

But then she turned to the rows of books in front of her and her face fell. Would any of them really hold the answer? Marie shuffled in close behind her. Neither said anything at first until-

“I’m sorry, Elly. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

They stood there for a while, Elly staring at the books but not really seeing them, absorbing the peaceful quiet of the library. Marie felt very warm beside her.

——————

Elly visited the library every day. She would pull up a chair on the second floor and work her way through stacks of books that Marie placed in front of her. Sometimes they talked. Marie talked about her parents, about Basil, mostly. She admired him, but worried that she’ll never be able to write as well as him. Elly talked about Yu, and how he frustrated her with his pranks, but always with a tenderness in her voice. She talked about her work, and the doctor. She talked about her grandmother. She talked of her parents briefly, once. She didn’t like to talk about them often, because she hated the anger she felt at them. Hated how selfish she felt when she thought of their deaths as them leaving her behind.

Sometimes the two of them didn’t talk at all, but just sat together. Marie would write, and Elly would read. Sometimes Elly looked up from her book just to watch Marie. She watched how Marie bit her lip when she wrote. She watched how Marie furrowed her eyes. She watched until her face and chest felt warm, and her stomach jumped, and she had to look away.

It was a dangerous feeling, but Elly was able to ignore it, until she wasn’t.

——————

“I feel strange when I’m around you, Elly. My face gets hot, and a strange feeling wells up in my chest,” Marie said one afternoon.

And suddenly Elly knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore. But she also couldn’t tell Marie what the diagnosis was. She stopped going to the library.

——————

It was hard. Elly cried every night for a week. But to accept how she felt would mean having to tell others. Not just Marie, which although that thought made her heart lurch in equal parts happiness and terror, but her grandmother as well. Her grandmother who never had a harsh word about anyone. Her grandmother who loved and cared for her after the death of her parents. Elly could not bear to see her look of disappointment. And that was the only outcome, because how could her grandmother understand?

And so it was the end of Spring, and the morning was beautiful, and Elly opened the window. She leaned against the windowsill and stared out into nothing.

“Elly, dear, is everything alright?”

“Yes, grandma. I just think we can use some fresh air.”

“My darling Elly, always looking after others. Come have a seat.”

Elly sat down on the couch.

“Anna came to visit me yesterday. She says you haven’t been to the library in a week.”

“I’ve been busy with work. And Yu, of course.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Ellen said.

“Grandma?”

“There is something strange about being old. People look at you and think you were always that way. But I lived a full life before this chair. When I was a child my mother taught me to bake. The kitchen was our way of loving each other. We made cookies so sweet you could taste the love in them.”

Ellen leaned back in her rocking chair and smiled. Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses.

“Yes, I've had a life full of love," she continued. "And when I was your age, I was blessed. I had three great loves in my life,”

“Three loves?” Elly asked.

“Oh, yes. Well, you know one was your grandfather. We had a full life together. He was there for me when I opened my bakery, and I’ve never seen any man dote on his wife the way he did to me when I was pregnant. He was so nervous! We truly completed each other. He was the third of my great loves, and I thank the Goddess for putting us in each other’s lives.”

“Who were the other two, grandma?”

“Surely you can guess one? Saibara and I were best friends. We went everywhere together. We told each other things we were afraid to tell anyone else. I told him my dream of opening a bakery, and he told me his dream of becoming a blacksmith. Then one day I looked over at him, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love with my best friend.”

Elly didn’t know what to say. She knew Saibara had been her grandmother’s friend, that she could tell from his visits, but she never guessed it had been anything more.

“It was so hard, when we had to say goodbye. It was Winter. Saibara had an apprenticeship over in the big city, and I couldn’t hold him back from his dream. But I cried myself to sleep every night. Then one day the snow melted into spring, and I realized I needed to live my life. I started to take long walks around town. I must have walked every inch of the town twice over!”

Ellen paused to look out the window, and the same wistful expression snuck its way back on her face.

“One day I tired of walking around the town, so I walked through the woods, and sat down next to a pond. It was beautiful and it reminded me of Basho’s poem. I must have muttered it under my breath because something amazing happened.”

Elly sat on the edge of her seat, hanging on to her grandmother’s words.

“I saw a woman in the pond, staring back at me. And she said she knew the poem! That she was there when Basho wrote it.”

“There was a woman in the pond?” Elly asked.

“Oh, yes. She was a beautiful lady, with long green hair, and a gold crown on her head. And although she was standing in the pond, her dress was as dry as could be. She saw the shocked expression on my face and laughed, and her laugh was like bells.”

“I went to visit her every day that Spring. We sat next to the edge of the pond, on the soft grass, and she would stare at me with emerald green eyes. I read her poems, and she would finish them before I could. I would trail my hands along the surface of the pond, and sometimes our hands would meet, and I would feel her touch on me the rest of the day.”

“I would go back home, so happy I could burst, but then the words would stick in my mouth like honey. I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I never did.”

“I think she knew. On the last of Spring she took my hands in hers, and she kissed my cheek, and she told me not to worry. That soon I would meet the love of my life. And I met your grandfather shortly after. She was right, he was the love of my life, and I never regretted marrying him. But I did regret not admitting to myself how I felt about her. We live such short lives to lie to ourselves, darling.”

Elly was surprised when she realized she was crying. The tears dropped down off her face and onto her hands. She took shaky breaths, trying to find the words she wanted to say.

She ran a sleeve along her eyes, and she thought she must look like Yu, who was always wiping a sleeve on a runny nose and weepy eyes.

“I was so scared. I thought you would be ashamed of me,” Elly finally choked out.

“Oh, sweetheart. I could never. I’ve always been proud of you. And I’ll always love you,” Ellen said.

Ellen held out her arms, and Elly found her way in them, and they stayed that way until the tears passed. It reminded Elly of when she was a child, and she sat at her grandmother’s feet while Ellen knit. It felt like love then as it did now.

“I love you too.”

#story of seasons #friends of mineral town #harvest moon #sos fomt #dreamyswriting #not edited please forgive mistakes

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