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viagracex · 14 days ago

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hey bae I actually adore your writing!! Could you do something fluffy with Arthur tv and fem!reader where she’s rambling to him about like Greek mythology or smth random whilst sat in his lap and he’s just playing with her hair and listening? And she stops bcs she’s usually quiet and she feels bad for rambling but he reassures her bcs he’s genuinely so interested in everything she’s saying? Or something like that obviously adjust it to your preferences! Thank uu :)

Whispers of Olympus

arthur frederick x fem!reader

summary: during a rambling about greek mythology you and arthur reach a profound, mutual realization.

warnings: greek mythology, mythological violence, emotional intensity

note: i absolutely loved writing this!!! i got a bit carried away but writing this caused my inner percy jackson kid to come out as someone who’s obsessed with greek mythology. once i started writing i couldn’t stop I spent 6 hours straight just putting all my ideas on paper! this filled me with so much joy you have no idea. i did put my own little spin on the ending. hope this is what you were looking for!

4.6k words

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

In the soothing cocoon of your shared living room, with the soft hum of the city outside and the dim light from the television casting flickering shadows around, you found yourself in a familiar, cherished position: nestled comfortably in Arthur's lap, your back against his chest as you recounted tales of Greek mythology with animated enthusiasm. Your hands moved expressively, painting pictures of epic battles and divine machinations as you delved into the ancient stories that captivated you so deeply.

Arthur's fingers gently combed through your soft hair as you nestled comfortably in his lap, your eyes alight with enthusiasm. The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over them both as you regaled him with tales of gods and heroes.

"...and then Theseus sailed to Crete to face the Minotaur," you continued, gesticulating animatedly. "Can you imagine how terrifying that must have been? A massive labyrinth filled with deadly traps, and at the center, a monstrous bull-man waiting to devour you!"

Arthur smiled softly, completely enraptured by your passion. He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke of mythology, how your voice took on a lilting, storyteller's cadence. Though typically reserved, in moments like these you fully blossomed, painting vivid pictures with your words.

"But Ariadne gave him a ball of thread to find his way back out," you went on. "It's called Ariadne's thread, and it's become a metaphor for solving problems with logic. Isn't that fascinating? How these ancient stories still resonate today and shape our language and thinking?"

Arthur nodded, his fingers still gently combing through your hair. "It is fascinating," he agreed softly. "Tell me more about Ariadne. What happened to her after she helped Theseus?"

You shifted slightly in his lap, her eyes lighting up even more at his question. "Oh, that's where it gets really interesting! You see, after Theseus defeated the Minotaur, he took Ariadne with him when he left Crete. But then..." Paused dramatically, your hand resting on Arthur's chest. "He abandoned her on the island of Naxos while she slept!"

Arthur's brow furrowed. "That seems rather ungrateful of him," he murmured, his hand moving to trace gentle patterns on your back.

"It was!" you exclaimed. "But here's where it gets better. The god Dionysus found her there, fell in love with her, and made her his immortal wife. He even placed her crown in the sky as the constellation Corona Borealis."

As you spoke, Arthur found himself imagining the scene, picturing the lonely goddess on that distant shore, her heartbreak transforming into divine love. He gazed down at the woman in his arms, marveling at how she brought these ancient tales to life with such vivid detail.

"It's a bittersweet story," he mused, "but I suppose it worked out for Ariadne in the end."

You nodded eagerly. "Exactly! And there are so many interpretations of what it all means. Some say it represents the transition from maiden to wife, or the union of mortal and divine. Others see it as a cautionary tale about trusting strangers."

As you continued to expound on the various scholarly debates surrounding the myth, Arthur found himself captivated not just by the story, but by the infectious enthusiasm. Your cheeks were flushed with excitement, hands gesticulating wildly as you spoke. He loved how you could lose herself so completely in these tales, how the usual shyness melted away when you got caught in a passionate rambling.

"Oh! And did you know that the Minotaur itself is a fascinating symbol?" you asked, barely pausing for breath. "Some interpret it as representing the bestial nature within humanity, or the struggle between civilization and our primal instincts."

Arthur listened intently, his fingers still absently stroking you hair. He loved how your mind worked, connecting disparate ideas and finding meaning in the smallest details. As you spoke, he found himself drawn into her world of myth and symbolism.

"That's fascinating," he murmured. "It reminds me a bit of the story of Cronus. Do you know that one?"

Your eyes lit up even brighter. "Oh yes! Cronus, the Titan who devoured his own children. That's another myth with so many layers of meaning."

You shifted in his lap, turning to face him more fully, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Cronus ate his children because he feared they would overthrow him, just as he had overthrown his own father, Uranus. It's a story about the cyclical nature of time and power, and the fear of being replaced. But Rhea, his wife, she was cunning. She managed to trick him by wrapping a stone in swaddling clothes instead of baby Zeus," you explained, your voice lively with the thrill of storytelling.

Arthur nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek gently. "And in the end, his fear became a self-fulfilling prophecy, didn't it? Because Zeus, the child he failed to eat, was the one who ultimately dethroned him."

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement. "It's a perfect example of how these myths often contain deep psychological truths. Cronus's attempt to cling to power ultimately led to his downfall."

Pausing for a moment, your brow furrowing in thought. "You know, there's an interesting parallel between the Cronus myth and the story of Oedipus. Both involve prophecies of sons overthrowing their fathers, and both show how attempts to avoid fate often lead directly to it."

"Oh! And speaking of Zeus, there was this time when he transformed into a swan to seduce Leda... it’s such a bizarre yet fascinating tale, showing just how far the gods would go for love—or lust," you chuckled, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Arthur's chuckle rumbled in his chest, a warm sound that vibrated against your back. "The gods really didn’t have any limits, did they?" he mused, his intrigue palpable in his tone.

You nodded, pleased with his interest, and continued, "Not at all. Their stories are filled with such raw emotions and dramatic plots. Like the story of Persephone and Hades, this tale is one of my absolute favourites!" you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up with renewed excitement. "It's a story of love, loss, and the changing of seasons."

Arthur's hand continued its gentle ministrations in your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands as he listened intently. "Tell me about it," he encouraged softly, his eyes never leaving your animated face.

You shifted slightly in his lap once again, getting comfortable as you prepared to dive into the story. "Well, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of harvest and fertility. She was a beautiful young goddess, and Hades, the god of the underworld, fell deeply in love with her."

As you spoke, Arthur's free hand began tracing more lazy patterns on your back, his touch soothing and warm. You leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence as you continued your tale.

"Hades was so smitten that he decided to abduct Persephone and take her to the underworld. He burst through the earth in his chariot, snatched her up, and disappeared back into the depths before anyone could stop him."

Arthur's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of abduction. "That seems rather drastic," he murmured, his hand stilling momentarily in your hair.

You nodded emphatically. "Oh, it was! Demeter was absolutely distraught when she discovered her daughter was missing. She searched the earth for nine days and nights, neglecting her duties as the goddess of harvest. As a result, the earth began to wither and die."

Your hands moved expressively as you spoke, painting pictures in the air. "Can you imagine the desperation she must have felt? A mother searching endlessly for her child, while the world around her fell into ruin?"

Arthur's expression softened, his fingers resuming its movements now running gentle caress through your hair. "It must have been heartbreaking for her," he said softly.

"It was," you agreed, your voice taking on a more somber tone. "Eventually, Zeus had to intervene. He commanded Hades to return Persephone to the world above."

You paused dramatically, your eyes meeting Arthur's. "But there was a catch. You see, Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds while in the underworld.

"And eating food from the underworld meant she was bound to return there," Arthur guessed, his voice soft with understanding.

You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes bright. "Exactly! For each seed she ate, she had to spend one month of the year in the underworld. So, for six months, she stays with Hades, and for six months, she returns to the world above with her mother."

As you spoke, you realized how long you had been talking, how many stories you had shared. A flush crept up your cheeks, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. "Oh," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sorry, I've been rambling on for so long. I didn't mean to bore you with all these old stories."

You started to pull away, but Arthur's arms tightened around you, holding you close. "Don't apologize," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "I love hearing you talk about these myths. The way you tell them, they come alive. It's like I can see the gods and heroes right in front of me."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

Arthur shook his head, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I'm not just saying that," he assured you, his voice gentle but firm. "Your passion for these stories is... captivating. The way your eyes light up, how animated you become - it's beautiful to watch."

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, and you felt your blush deepen. Arthur's hand moved from your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

"Tell me," he said, his blue eyes gazing intently into yours, "what drew you to Greek mythology in the first place? What is it about these ancient tales that speaks to you so deeply?"

You hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. It wasn't often that someone asked about the root of your passion, and you found yourself searching for the right words.

"I think... it's the humanity of it all," you began slowly, your voice growing stronger as you continued. "These gods and heroes, they're so powerful, so larger than life. And yet, they struggle with the same emotions we do - love, jealousy, pride, fear. Their stories are our stories, just painted on a grander canvas."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Arthur's eyes softened with understanding. He nodded slowly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.

"That's beautiful," he murmured. "I never thought of it that way before, but you're right. These stories have endured for thousands of years because they speak to something universal in the human experience."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth at his understanding. "Yeah," you said softly. "And there's something magical about how these stories have been passed down through generations, evolving and taking on new meanings as they go. It's like we're part of this grand, unending conversation across time."

As you spoke, you noticed the golden afternoon light had shifted, casting long shadows across the room. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink visible through the window. It reminded you of the story of Apollo driving his sun chariot across the sky.

"You know," you began, a playful glint in your eye, "the ancient Greeks believed the sunset was caused by Apollo reaching the western edge of the world with his chariot. As he descended into the underworld to make his nightly journey back to the east, the sky would blaze with colour."

Arthur's gaze shifted to the window, taking in the spectacular sunset. "It's a beautiful explanation for such a stunning sight," he mused, his arms tightening slightly around you.

You nodded, snuggling closer into his embrace. "They had stories for everything - the changing seasons, the constellations in the night sky, the ebb and flow of the tides. It's like they wove magic into the very fabric of the world around them."

As you spoke, Arthur's eyes drifted back to your face, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You weave magic too, you know," he said softly. "The way you bring these stories to life, it's like you're casting a spell."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "I just love sharing them," you murmured, suddenly feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.

"And I love listening," Arthur replied, his voice low and tender. His hand moved from your cheek to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, there's a story I'd like to tell you now, if you'll let me."

Curiosity piqued, you nodded eagerly. "Of course," you said, settling more comfortably in his lap.

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Once upon a time," he began, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence that mirrored your own, "there was a man who thought he understood the world, he thought he knew everything there was to know. He had traveled far and wide, studied ancient texts, and prided himself on his knowledge, never realizing there was magic all around him."

His fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. "But one day, he met a woman who showed him that there was still so much wonder left to discover. A woman who saw the world differently. She had eyes that sparkled with ancient wisdom and a voice that could bring long-forgotten tales to life."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, recognizing yourself in his words. Arthur's gaze was intense, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

"This woman," he continued, his voice soft and reverent, "she opened his eyes to a world of wonder he had never known existed. She spoke of gods and heroes, of love and betrayal, of triumph and tragedy. And as she spoke, the world around them seemed to shimmer with possibility."

The setting sun cast a warm glow across Arthur's face, turning his eyes to liquid gold. "With every story she told, every myth she unravelled, the man fell deeper under her spell. He found himself looking forward to their moments together, eager to hear what new tale she would weave. And as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, he realized that the magic he sought wasn't just in her stories - it was in her."

Arthur's voice grew softer, more intimate, as he continued. "He saw how her eyes lit up when she spoke of Aphrodite's beauty, how her hands danced through the air as she described Hermes' swift flight. He noticed the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought, trying to remember some obscure detail of a lesser-known myth."

You felt your heart quicken as Arthur spoke, his words painting a picture that was achingly familiar. His hand moved to cup your cheek once more, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

"And then one day," he murmured, "as the sun was setting just like this, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, he realized something. He realized that all the epic love stories she had told him - Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, even Zeus and his many conquests - paled in comparison to how he felt about her. The way his heart raced when she smiled, how his skin tingled at her touch, the warmth that bloomed in his chest when she laughed - it was a magic more powerful than any myth or legend."

Arthur's voice grew tender, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "He realized that she had become his Ariadne's thread, guiding him through the labyrinth of life. She was his Persephone, bringing light and life to his world. She was his muse, inspiring him to see beauty and wonder in every moment."

As he spoke, the last rays of sunlight painted the room in a soft, golden glow. The light caught in your hair, creating a halo effect that took Arthur's breath away. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you.

"And so," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "the man decided to write his own myth. A story of two souls finding each other, of hearts beating in sync, of love as timeless as the tales of old."

Your breath caught in your throat as Arthur leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours."In this story," he murmured, "the man realizes that the greatest adventure, the most magical journey, is the one he's embarking on with her."

Your heart raced as Arthur's words washed over you, each syllable resonating deep within your soul. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment, bathed in the dying light of day.

"He sees that every day with her is like turning a new page in an epic tale," Arthur continued, his voice low and tender. "Each shared laugh, each quiet moment, each passionate debate about the meaning behind an ancient myth - it all weaves together to create a tapestry more beautiful than any he's ever seen."

His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair. "And as he looks into her eyes, he sees galaxies of stories yet untold, constellations of dreams waiting to be explored together."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion in Arthur's voice, in his gaze. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

"He realizes," Arthur whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "that he's fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her. Not just with her stories or her passion, but with every facet of her being."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure Arthur must hear it. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, the last golden rays of sunlight wrapping around you like a cocoon.

"In this moment," Arthur continued, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, "he wants nothing more than to be a part of her story. To write chapters with her, to face whatever challenges may come, to celebrate every triumph and weather every storm by her side."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in Arthur's words, in his eyes. He caught the tear with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle.

"And so," he murmured, "he decides to take a leap of faith, just like the heroes in her tales. To be brave, to open his heart, and to tell her how he feels."

Your heart pounded in your chest, Arthur's words echoing in your mind. The room seemed to hold its breath, time suspended in this magical moment between you.

"And what did the woman say?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Arthur's eyes sparkled, a tender smile playing on his lips. "Well," he murmured, "that's where our story diverges from the ancient myths. Because in this tale, the ending hasn't been written yet." His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. "You tell me. What does the woman say?"

For a moment, you were speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion swirling within you. The setting sun painted the room in hues of gold and rose, casting a warm glow over Arthur's face. In that light, you could see every fleck of colour in his eyes, every line etched by laughter and contemplation.

Your mind raced through all the myths and legends you had shared with him over the months. You thought of Orpheus braving the underworld for Eurydice, of Psyche completing impossible tasks to be reunited with Eros, of Odysseus journeying for years to return to his beloved Penelope. All these tales of love and devotion swirled in your mind, but none seemed to capture the depth of what you felt at this moment.

You took a deep breath, your hands moving to cup Arthur's face. The warmth of his skin under your palms grounded you and gave you courage.

"In this story," you began, your voice soft but steady, "the woman realizes that she's been weaving her own tale all along, without even knowing it. Every myth she's shared, every legend she's brought to life, has been leading her to this moment."

Your hands moved to cup Arthur's face, mirroring his gentle touch. "She sees that the magic she's always sought in ancient stories has been right here all along, in the way he listens, in the warmth of his embrace, in the depth of his understanding."

"She realizes," you continued, your thumbs gently caressing his cheek “that she's been falling in love too, with every shared moment, every exchanged glance, every passionate discussion. She sees that this man has become her Hades, not in darkness but in depth - in the profound way he sees her, understands her, cherishes her."

Arthur's eyes widened, a spark of hope igniting in their depths. His hands moved to your waist, holding you closer as if afraid you might disappear.

"She realizes," you continued once more, your voice growing stronger with each word, "that their story is one for the ages. Not because of grand quests or divine interventions, but because of the quiet magic they create together. The way he makes her laugh, the comfort she finds in his arms, the spark that ignites when their minds connect over shared passions."

Your fingers traced the contours of Arthur's face, memorizing every line and plane. "She sees their future unfolding like a tapestry, woven with threads of shared adventures and quiet moments. Mornings spent discussing philosophy over coffee, evenings curled up reading to each other, weekends exploring ancient ruins and bringing history to life."

Arthur's breath hitched, his hands tightening slightly at your waist. The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment,

"In this moment," you whispered, your forehead resting against his, "she realizes that all the love stories she's ever told pale in comparison to the one she's living. That the greatest myth, the most powerful magic, is the connection between two hearts beating in sync."

Your eyes locked with Arthur's, and in that moment, it felt as if the very fabric of reality shifted around you. The room seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, reminiscent of the golden glow that surrounded the gods in ancient tales. You could almost hear the whisper of the Fates, weaving this moment into the tapestry of your lives.

"She knows," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "that this is her odyssey, her great adventure. Not across wine-dark seas or through monster-filled islands, but through the landscape of the heart. A journey more perilous and more rewarding than any faced by the heroes of old."

As you spoke, the last rays of the setting sun painted the room in a kaleidoscope of colours. The warm light caught in Arthur's hair, creating a halo effect that reminded you of the radiance of Apollo. His eyes, fixed on yours, seemed to hold entire galaxies within their depths.

"She understands now," you continued, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, "that every story she's ever told has been preparing her for this moment. Every tale of love and loss, of triumph and tragedy, has been teaching her how to open her heart, how to be brave in the face of uncertainty, how to recognize true love when it stands before her."

Your hands moved to rest on Arthur's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. It was a rhythm that seemed to echo through your own body, as if your very souls were in sync.

"And so," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, "she says yes. Yes to this adventure, yes to writing their own epic tale together, yes to a love that rivals any myth."

Arthur's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a smile of pure joy spreading across his face. The room around you seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, as if the very air was alive with the magic of this moment.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and reverence. "Yes to all of it?."

As if moved by an invisible force, you both leaned in closer, your noses brushing. The air between you crackled with electricity, reminiscent of Zeus's thunderbolts. Your heart raced, pounding a rhythm as old as time itself.

"Arthur," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "I love you. Not just as Penelope loved Odysseus or as Psyche loved Eros, but in a way that's uniquely ours. A love that's both ancient and new, timeless and immediate."

His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "And I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a reverence that made your heart soar. "With every fiber of my being, with every beat of my heart, I love you."

As you gazed into each other's eyes, the air between you crackled with anticipation, electric and alive. A silent conversation passing between you in that infinite moment. Then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, you both leaned in.

Your lips met in a kiss that sent shockwaves through your entire being. It was soft at first, a gentle press, like the first brush of sunlight at dawn. But then it deepened, becoming something more profound, more passionate. Arthur's hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangled in his hair.

The kiss was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. It was Aphrodite's blessing and Eros's arrow, a divine union of souls. You tasted the sweetness of ambrosia on his lips, felt the strength of Hercules in his embrace. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

As you kissed, you could almost hear the Muses singing, their celestial voices weaving a melody of love and destiny. The room filled with a golden light, reminiscent of the radiance of Mount Olympus itself. It was as if the gods themselves were blessing your union, creating a private universe just for the two of you.

In that moment, you understood how Zeus must have felt when he first laid eyes on Hera, how Hades was so captivated by Persephone that he reshaped the very laws of nature to be with her.

In that moment it felt like you understood everything.

#arthur frederick #arthurtv #arthur tv #arthurtv x reader #arthur tv x reader #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv fluff #arthur frederick fluff #arthur frederick x reader #greek mythology #british youtube #british youtubers #uk yt #uk youtube #youtube imagine #youtube fanfic #youtube

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xdivinedecay · 3 months ago

Text

Patron saints for US election aftermath

Below are some saints I humbly recommend to pray to as the United States faces this new and challenging era after the results of our recent election. Those that use prayer for intercession may find comfort in learning more about the saints below, and building a communication with them.

Social justice — St. Martín de Porres Poverty — St. Francis of Assisi Women — St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Immigrants — St. Frances Xavier Cabrini Racial justice — St. Katharine Drexel Ecology and environment — St. Kateri Tekakwitha (the first Indigenous American saint) Education/teachers — St. John Baptist de La Salle

If you'd like, I have included some notes and extras below —

Please if you can, take some time to learn about St. Martín de Porres! His soul is beautiful and his work was absolutely selfless as he cared for others in the face of social abuse and adversity. He really is someone to aspire to be like.

I nominate St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in this particular instance as it's difficult to pin down a definitive patron saint of women (all of my cross-references didn't produce a strong label on any one saint; many were for mothers or some other aspect attributed to womanhood, so there are many options). But St. Elizabeth was the first American-born citizen to be canonized as a saint, and in her life she started a Catholic school for girls. She is most known for founding of the Sisters of Charity of Saint Joseph’s, the first religious order in America who contributed significant humanitarian work. In the wake of the US election results, I think she is an apt choice for connecting with for intercession.

I'm a biased St. Joan D'Arc follower, but hear me out. She was the crux of saving her home country from the very literal brink of being lost to Britain in a war that spanned a century. She rallied the last skeleton crew of the remaining French monarchal power that had all but been defeated already, and helped to take their name and land back from the English. I will be continuing to pray to her regularly to help find ways to fight for our freedom and remain courageous. I encourage others to do the same if you pray to her, or would like to start.

While I wish I had a suggestion for a saint to pray to for the LGBTQIA+ community, as they are adopted through history (St. Sebastian) or are not strictly official. But there are some interesting perspectives to find online, I just couldn't find a saint I could comfortably name with my whole chest for this particular group. I was intrigued by some responses on this Quora thread on the matter in question.

As always, these are only suggestions based on my imperfect research, as I am still newly navigating my reclaimed faith. If you have other patrons to recommend, please add them in a reblog so that others may learn about them.

divider made by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

more lists of patron saints — Patron Saints for your problems • Patron Saints for World Mental Health Day

#cw politics #cw election #catholic #catholicism #folk catholicism #christo pagan #christian witch #catholic witch #intercession #catholic saints #witchblr #christian witchcraft #catholic witchcraft #patron saints #christopagan #✧ temple's saints

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kombuuuu · 2 years ago

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Hello✋🏾! If I could request a Peter b parker x wife!reader where they have twins (including mayday) during the events of the movie?

No.1 Dad!

“Baby, Please. It’s a canon thing!”

“They’re toddlers!”

PeterBParker x Wife!Reader + little ones :]

light angst and a chase scene. ending is mostly comforting daddy parker

(it’s not sad i jus ❤️ this gif)

(Benjy is a canon named Kid of Peter B Parker’s in the Comics!)

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Oh shit.”

The father of two grimaced at the room full of spidey people. The voice of his wife sounding through the phone and into the echoing room.

“Tell me, why the fuck-“ Peter dragged a worried hand down his face. Miles snickering next to Hobie in the background. “—I woke up, to not only my *husband missing from my bed.” He sucked in a breath, glancing over at Miguel. Stood unimpressed with two spider-children climbing all over him and his platform. “But my two toddlers *lost from their damn cribs.” “Baby, I can explain.” He focused back on the phone, crowding over it like it would help conceal the conversation at all.

“You are in so much shit when you get home, young man.”

“I’m older than you by four years!”

“Watch your tone with me, Mister.”

He groaned, huffing and pouting into the phone while you continued to scold him before Miguel interrupted.

“Good morning, [name]. Hope you slept well.” His monotoned voice drawled out while picking the children off his clothes like bugs, and putting them back on Peter.

“Leave my wife alone.”

“Oh my god, please go somewhere private for this conversation.” Miguel rubbed between his eyes, his favourite thing to do apparently.

Your voice spoke back over him. “I don’t need privacy, I need my damn— Oh! Found it.”

“Baby, what are you—“ The connection cut off midway through his sentence, causing him to huff before realising; “Hey! That got me out of it!”

He straightened his posture, collecting his kids, Mayday and Benjy. And stuffing them into their baby carriers, carefully threading their limbs through each limb-window, as he called it.

A sparkle of warm tones caught his eye, circling from nothing into a fully developed portal.

“Oh, I should’ve known.”

“I seem to be making you say ‘Oh’ a lot.”

“You should’a heard you last night.”

“Peter!” He laughed as he watched you make your way over to him, giving Miguel a courteous nod and Miles a questioning glance. You looked so beautiful. An angel to him, the love of his life. He was so lucky to have you. And the little family you had created for yourselves. All the baby-stealing and stupid pictures aside, you were beyond enamoured with him as well.

“You’re lucky I still have this old thing, Parker. Or you wouldn’t have wanted to come home.

Despite the obvious threat, the only thing he could focus on was “come home”. A sentiment that was single to just your home, or just his home. But it was home. For a family, his family.

The admiration was broken when you pinched his nose. “Ow!”

“Shouldn’t have taken my kids.”

“Our kids!”

“Yeah whatever.”

You turned to Miguel, scanning the room and being very unsurprised at the amount of spider people here. If it was something important, Miguel loved a show. “What’s going on?”

“I’m… explaining something.”

“Uhuh.” you blinked at him slowly, unbelieving.

“Stop talking to my wife.” peter cut in.

“The fate of the multiverse is at stake, [name].-“ He threw his hands up, then gestures aggressively towards the kid next to Hobie.

“It’s his father, or an entire universe!”

“She’s not into you weirdo, back off.”

“Uhuh. And how old is the kid?”

He had the gall to look ashamed. Mayday babbled behind you. Giggling excitedly once she and Benjy had lost interest in whatever they were messing with on Peters suit. “Oh, come here baby.”

“How come I didn’t get that?”

Peter pouted over at you, rocking Benji gently, who was still half asleep.

You turned back around with your kid around your hip, addressing the kid near the centre of the room. “Hey uh—.”

“Miles!” He perked up, shyly waving at you.

“Oh, Miles! Peter talks so much about you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“He even named our dog after you!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” You smiled at Miles whilst he smiled back, happy to know Peter thought of him as much as he did Peter.

“You too, Mrs.Parker!”

“Don’t listen to this lady, she’s crazy and a psychopath!”

Peter stepped into place beside you, shaking his one un-baby-occupied hand in the air wildly.

“She’s off her meds!”

“Peter.”

He grumbled and stuck his tongue out. Blowing a raspberry, which Mayday happily replicated. You put the tip of your finger on Maydays tongue, pushing it back into her mouth. “Don’t do that, germs.”

turning away from peter, you kissed her cheek in apology, whispering “It’s not you, it’s him.” In her tiny ear.

You propped your free hand on your hip, looking up at Miguel on his platform.

He looked away. Hand settling below his chin as he closed his eyes and sighed.

“There’s that contemplative expression again.”

“Why is he always contemplating, nothing’s that serious.”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugged. He crept up close to you, putting his arm around you waist and leaning down to smell your perfume.

“I like that one.”

You smiled, tilting your head back to look at him, “I know,”.

Miguel continued on with his explanation, showing miles the different Canon events. Showing him Peters, Gwen’s, yours. When Miles seems to suddenly realise something.

“The Spot does it.” His hands shake alongside his voice, Peter glances over to you in worry, but ultimately focuses back on Miles. “He kills ‘im.” The boys shoulders drop in defeat.

“When does it happen.”

Miguel looks away, shaking his head and wincing.

Miles turns to the small group surrounding him, helpless.

“When does it happen?!”

“In two days,” Miles whips back towards him. “When he’s sworn in.”

“That’s- what the model says.”

“I’ sorry Miles-“

“Send me home.”

“I can’t do that, not now.”

Gwen winces and squeezes her eyes shut. Body stuff and unmoving.

“What am I supposed to do then? Let him die?!”

Miguel pauses. And doesn’t relent.

Miles’s face contorts for a second before he turns, gesturing vaguely at Gwen.

“What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

She just sighs, “Yeah.”

“Wh- And that’s it! You guys aren’t even gonna do anything about it?!”

Gwen looks down, ashamed.

Mayday grabs hold of your finger. Noting the serious tones of the situation, she stays quiet. He scoffs and turns to Peter.

“Okay what about Uncle Ben? That’d been okay? If you knew and you just—,” he stuttered, “Let it play out?!”

Peter stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on his students shoulder. “If not for uncle ben, most of us wouldn’t be here Miles.”

He pauses to look at the webbed window of his Ben.

“The good we did it-,” he breathes, “It wouldn’t have been done.”

You harden your gaze over your husband. He doesn’t look at you.

Miles nods, “So we’re just’ supposed to let people die because some algorithm—!” he hits Peters hand of his shoulder and starts towards Miguel again. “Woah, woah.” Lyla interjected. “—Says that that’s supposed to happen?!”

He swings his arms in annoyance, in *fear.

This is a *kid.

“You realise how messed up that sounds, right?”

With a better moral code than most in this room.

“You have a choice between saving one person—“ The slow approach of other spider people filled out the fog coating the room. “—And saving an entire world, every world!” Miguel points at him, hand on hip.

“I can do both!” He tries,

“Spiderman always-,”

“Not always.”

Miles looks to Peter, seeking back up. Peters face twists something sorry, and Miles’s flashes of hurt.

Benji starts to wake up, cooing softly at his dad.

Miguel’s hand gently turns the boy back around, this isn’t looking good.

You glance at Hobie, seeing the apprehension in his posture as he meets your gaze.

He glanced down at Mayday in question, you reassure him with a nod. If it comes to it, you’ll put her in peters baby carrier for safety. He nods back.

“Miles, we all want to lead the life we wish we had.” When Miles shrugs him off he raises his hands.

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”His hands slowly lowered. Miles’ breathing got heavier.

“And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.”

“You can’t have it all, kid.”

Miles looked around in panic, noticing the faces creeping up on him. He makes eye contact with you, and you try and signal your support.

If you run, I’ll run too.

“Being Spiderman is a sacrifice. That’s the job, that’s what you signed up for.”

A robotic voice caught your attention as a large suit approached the outer circle.

“Miles.” The faceplate opened.

“Penny?”

He put up his defences once more.

“What is this?” He yelled, the force of his words drawing an immediate attention. “Is this an intervention or something?”

“We know it’s hard, but it’s the truth, Miles.”

You glare at the faces around you, Adjusting Mayday on your hip and keeping an eye out for your two boys.

Miles and Benji.

Peter will be dealt with later.

Miles stumbles back, righting his foot and turning to Peter.

“Is that why you’re here? To—“

he clenched his fist, “To let me down easy?”

You watch your lover closely, the look on his face telling you all you need to know, and apparently same goes for Miles.

“It worked last time, why not run it back huh?” his voice was raising, Benji getting uncomfortable at the tone.

“Woah- hey, hold on. Hold on!” He raised his hand in a placating matter, trying to tune Miles down.

“You were right, Gwen.”

You glanced up at her, his venomed whisper doing its intended purpose, hurt.

“You should have never come to see me.”

Peter slowly approached Miles, bending down to his height like a person to a stray dog.

“Kid, look at me-“ “Stop callin’ me that.”

“There you go.” You sent Hobie a huff of appraise.

“Hobie, you’re not helping.”

“Good.”

Miles gratefully nodded at him.

“Miles, please understand-“ Peter tried.

“Peter.” Your stern voice interrupted him, and he shut down his attempt.

“You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.”

You glared at Miguel, only noticing the barrier a little too late. It opened under Miles, trapping him within when the inner circle started to protest.

“Miguel just give him a second! Please!”

“Dont! Stop it.”

“You let him leave, he’ll only do more damage.”

Gwen intervened, “Enough!”

You rushed towards the barrier with Mayday, her reaching for the barrier in confusion. You can’t help him out of this, you don’t know how.

“Miguel, let him out! He’s a kid.” You raised your voice. Weaponising your authority.

“Miguel this is too far.”

“[Name], it’ll only hold him few days.” He turned around to walk away.

Miles was panicking, banging on the barriers walls and spinning to try and find a weak point. His eyes caught onto Hobie. Doing nothing but holding his palms out, and giving him an earnest look. “Sorry it had to end like this, kid.”

“I said—“ Miles placed his hands flat on the barrier, right above his head. Palms out, You backed up shielding Mayday and dragging Peter to turn around and using him as a body block for Benji.

“—Not-“ The barriers begun to crack, shatter like glass.

“—To call me that!” A wave of energy pushed everyone down as the barrier broke, exploding in a mess of bright colours.

You heard Hobie chuckle, and looked up at Miles in amazement. A second where he caught your eye, he darted. Running straight for the exit.

“Miles!” Miguel screeched.

You stuffed Mayday in her carrier in record time and blew them a kiss as you pounced from your position to catch up with Miles.

Unbeknownst to you, Your husband, along with every other spider person, would follow. Except Hobie.

“Just for the record, I quit.”

—

You had found Miles being interrogated by your lover, him holding up your two children like bribing toys.

“C’mon- just hold ‘em!”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Miles manoeuvred slyly through all the cranks and pipes, your Spidey following swiftly behind him. “Just one hold! It’s rejuvenating!”

“I’m plenty juvenated!” Miles retorted.

You were going to interrupt when you lagged behind a bit, getting stuck on a moving pipe.

When you finally freed yourself, you stumbled into a cute moment between the two.

“I wanted them to be like you!”

He stared at your husband, vulnerable and scared, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face.

Mayday and Benji bickered with each other in his hold.

Peters watch suddenly lit up.

“Okay, Peter I’ve got your location.”

Their faces dropped, betrayal raw on the young boys.

“No, no. You do not have my location!”

Him peeling open the crate to the industrial fans, and slipping in. You using your webs to sling in after him and pull the crate shut behind you. Catching Peters fleeting glance before what seemed twenty different spider people broke through the crate, smashing through fans.

You followed miles swiftly, through the busses and over cartops. Using your webs to keep up with him. He wasn’t bad, for someone so young.

“I’m a great mentor!”

You huffed at Peters distant offended tone. “Sure, baby.” You muttered.

You hooked around a building, watching as Miles cut himself off from Gwen. Her hand reaching out for him as he fell. Your spidey senses caught your attentions, tingling in the forefront of your mind. You zeroed in on Miles and watched as he aimed for the train. It hadn’t looked like anyone else had caught on yet. Still scrambling to get to him, instead of trying to cut him off.

—

Miguel had the kid by the throat. Slamming him against the train doors and dragging his body up with him. You watched in fear as he spoke to the boy.

“You’re a mistake!”

You screamed at him from your position below, begging for him to just let the kid go. Miles caught you gaze. You fought against the wind, trying hard to get to him, and keeping an eye on Peter and your babies.

“If you hadn’t been bit-!” Miguel slammed his back again. You winced. “Your Peter Parker would have lived!”

Miles struggled against him, trying to push off the claws attacking him. “Instead he died- Saving you.”

“He would have stopped the collider before it went off. Spot wouldn’t exist-“ “Peter!” “-And none of this, would have happened.”

The three of you climbed to get to them. You grabbed Benji off peter, Cradling him in your arms as the winds were getting too rough.

Miguel slammed him back again, crowding over the small boy and growling his words.

“And all this time— I have been the only one holding all this together.”

“Miguel go easy on him!” Peter called down from his spot behind you, he sounded devastated, your heart broke for him. You knew how much he loved Miles, thinking of him almost like his first son. Your husband would bring him up so often, wondering what he was doing when he could see through the Spidey-Windows Miguel would (angrily) provide.

He always stressed when Miles had to figure out things himself, saying things like “Just give me a day with him, we’ll figure it out!” “He’s a kid Miguel. Wouldn’t you have wanted a mentor back then?” “I’m a great mentor.” “You just don’t see my brilliance.”

Benji babbled in your arms and you cooed back at him, spider beanie pulled snug over his face. Huh, he was pretty rejuvenating.

Miguel leaned closer, growling words of disgust to the kid.

“Let me go!” Miles struggled against him. A choked sound came from Peter, and when you looked back at him you swore you could see his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Miguel that’s enough!” Gwen shouted.

“This isn’t what we talked about!”

Miles stopped struggling.

“You talked about this?” He looked down at Peter, heart breaking.

“You knew?”

Peter looked down, ashamed. Clinging onto the train but no longer climbing. Mayday held tightly to his chest with the other hand, he caught your eye.

“Peter what did you do..” Your breath escaped you and the words came out a whisper, flown away by the winds around you.

“You all knew?”

Your head shot up, starting to disagree before Gwen spoke.

“I.. I didn’t know..” She looked away, unable to face him.

“How to tell you.”

“That’s why you never came to see me.”

“Miles it’s for your own good!”

He pushed forwards.

“Who decides that?”

Miguel pushed back.

“I’m not a kid Gwen.”

Miguel grunted, slamming him again, the dent in the train deepening every time. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re just a kid!”

“Who has no idea what he’s doing!” Miles grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to squirm further from the beast on him.

His fingers sparked.

Miguel shoved his forearm against Miles’ neck, pushing his face against broken metal.

“Yeah well, I did get hundreds of Spider people away from your own club house.”

The roaring of spider people climbing the train travelled straight to Miguel’s ears.

“I guess he did plan this out!”

You smiled up at him. Seeing him smug back.

“And, I’m about to do this.”

He latched his sparking fingers onto Miguel’s shoulders. Clenching down and watching the starts of his electricity flow through the man’s arms.

The elder was the on struggling now, confused grunts paired with an effort to escape the boys hold.

“Everyone keeps tellin’ me how my story is s’posed to go.

Nah, Imma do my own thing.”

He pushed his whole hands against blue spiders chest.

“Sorry, but i’m going home.”

He pushed Miguel off of him right as he ignited the current buzzing underneath their veins. And watched as the Brunettes body ragdolled off of him and shot off the train and into the open sky.

The fanged man dragged his hand through waves of spider people, struggling to catch himself against smooth metal.

You looked back up at Miles, as he stood, connected by a single web to the speeding train.

“Goodbye, Gwen.”

He cut the thread and fell.

Gwen yelled for him, a call of his name. But peter? Peter just watched with his heart in his throat. His own betrayal heavy on his heart.

—

You were finally at home again. The stress of the day weighing high on the both of you. Even Mayday and Benji seemed to have noticed the tension.

Getting tired over all the moving and all the fighting, it was barely 7:30 before they were dead asleep.

“You think we’re bad parents?”

You were stood leaning over he crib, arms rested on its gates. Peter crowded over you, covering you in his smell and feeling. The weight on his body pressing against your back was akin to a weighted blanket, grounding you as you watched your sweet children breathe.

“Nah, Everyone has their first chase.”

“Well,..”

“Ehhh, want to see the cute photo I got of Benj and May?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

—

Your husband had been off the whole rest of the night. When you two had sat down together to watch the first mind numbing thing you could find, he couldn’t stop moving. Jittering with nerves.

You were waiting patiently for him to work the courage to say what he needed. Not ever preparing for something like this.

“Think Miles hates me?” It was said slyly. Like he was playing it off to be nothing, but the tension in his shoulder told you otherwise. “I think he’ll be hurt. And upset, but I don’t think he hates you.” He picked at his nails as you spoke, you curled your hands over the expanse of his chest and fit your ledge over his waist, he looked up at you through wet lashes.

“Are you sure cause-“ He cut himself off with a clear of his throat, not wanting to sob over something so *stupid in his head.

“Oh, baby. You’re so sweet, but he could never hate you.”

Peters hands stopped fiddling with themselves, smoothening down the curve of your ass and the small of your back.

“Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded relieved, if not a little suspicious.

He dug his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“Creep.”

He nipped at your skin lightly in retaliation.

“Miguel talks to you too much.”

“Every sentence we shared was negative.”

“He’s like that.”

You scoffed at him playfully and he smiled into your neck, turning his cheek to your skin and watching you. “I’ll make sure next time we talk, it’ll be in sign.”

“No, I don’t speak ASL, what if he says something about me?”

“He says something about you out loud, baby.”

“Yeah but I can’t hear it if he’s signing.”

—

Even later in the night, when you heard the shower running and soft sobs coming from the bathroom. You did nothing but undress and climb in with him. Rubbing your hands soothingly down his back, spreading soap along his chest and back and massaging it in deep for him.

You let him hold himself up against you, and pretended not to notice the difference between the shower water and his tears. You dragged him down to your height, a hand tucked into his soft hair before your lips met his. He would settle his hands on your hips, push you ever closer to him. And take the comfort you gave him in stride.

Eventually you would pay mine to your water bill, and would dry each other off carefully, get dressed together and settle in your shared bed. It was 1 AM now, but you couldn’t care less, being in the arms of your lover had outweighed any negatives lack of sleep could bestow. He would make it up to Miles. Solve the problems of the universe (multiverse), and have you two meet for real. Introducing Miles to his wife, and his son to his twins.

—

I WENT OFF THE RAILSSSS

probs making a part two later, for more peter daddy snippets and cute kids plus wifey reader

#peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #peter benjamin parker #peter x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales #gwen stacy x reader #miguel o’hara #mayday parker #hobie brown

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calcifiedunderland · 1 year ago

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Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

ft. Overblot Gang x GN Reader

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single leader in possession of power, fortune, and intellect, must be in want of a partner.”

“Pfft-“ you snorted to yourself, flipping through the pages. “What kind of story is this?”

Earlier that day, you and Grim had decided to clear out one of the rooms at Ramshackle. After a brief jump-scare from Crowley (who showed you how to make furniture out of a magic hammer?), the two of you were now on your way to making a ‘Guest Room.’ Finally, gone were the days of your friends groaning about your dusty couch and cobweb-filled living room!

But that also meant that the boxes in the room had to be moved out. Most of them held thread-bare cloth and other dusty knickknacks, but a few held books that looked as though they hadn’t been held in ages. Out of sheer curiosity and boredom (and the fact that Ramshackle had no internet whatsoever), you cracked open one of them and started reading, with Grim snoozing soundly on your lap.

“What are you reading, Prefect?” One of the Ramshackle ghosts wafted to you, resting on the armchair back behind you. You turned the book to read the cover, frowning, “Prejudice and Pride, by Jean August. It’s kind of ridiculous.” You ran a hand over the dusty cover, “I think we had something like this in my world, too.”

The ghost immediately grinned, “I remember this from when I was alive!” He dove in front of you, taking the book and flipping through it at phantom speed. “This was one of our required readings! Ah, you living folk miss out on the classics,” he sighed wistfully. “Here, this was the best part!”

You took the book and read through it. It seemed to be a love confession, where the main male lead was telling the female lead how much he ‘ardently admired and loved her’ and failed miserably.

“Wow, that’s cringe,” you winced, skimming the page. “And also unrealistic. I mean, who falls in love with someone they hate? And who starts a love confession with ‘you suck, but I love you anyway I guess’? Why the hell would they think that would even work?!” You and the ghost laughed, and continued reading together.

~•~

“The Prefect is… interesting, but not enough to tempt me!”

He remembered telling his dorm mates this exact phrase, after bristling at a group of underclassmen gossiping amongst themselves. It was no secret that you and he were close - after several overblots at school, it would’ve been impossible not to be. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t like he laid awake at night, thinking about you right? How ridiculous would that be!

Meanwhile in his room, several hours later, the young dorm leader frowned, feeling restless. It was already close to sunrise, but he wasn’t able to drift off to sleep despite the exhaustions that came with leading an entire dorm. Instead of sleep and his impending responsibilities, his mind drifted.

Over the school year, he’d been able to push down his feelings (Sevens knew it was easy, and his overblot proved it), but now, it was impossible to deny it. This will not do, he thought, huffing irritably and sitting up in bed, absently rubbing his temple.

In vain, he’d struggled. But it couldn’t be denied, and despite his best and fiercest efforts to negate it, his feelings couldn’t be repressed. You’d proven yourself to be an unrelenting figure at Night Raven College - someone who he thought would be insignificant compared to his talent and renown. And yet. And yet.

Somehow you’d wormed your way into his life, to where it hurt to think of you as insignificant. Because how could an extraordinary person like you ever be insignificant? In his pre-overblot days, he was stubborn and yet still too prideful to even consider another way of thinking. But then you came along, and made him question everything, from previous prejudices to his own bittersweet pride.

You, who fell unceremoniously out of a coffin during the sorting ceremony with a little blue fiery cat, and scurried around the school running errands and odd jobs. You, who was once a passing glance, who became one of the things in the school he looked forward to seeing the most. You, with your heart of gold unshaken by the trials and tribulations thrown at you, day after day.

The feeling dawned on him, settling heavily and uncomfortably in their entire being. As the sun began rising, his mind reeled and he closed his eyes, the light bathing his room in a soft, pleasant glow. A warmth enveloped the room, but then a sudden chill ran down his spine. It was then, that he realized it:

He truly and ardently admired and loved you.

Now, he simply had to tell you so.

Now, dear Prefect, take his hand:

The Rose Red Tyrant: R. Rosehearts

The Usurper from the Wilds: L. Kingscholar

The Merchant from the Depths: A. Ashengrotto

The Schemer of the Scalding Sands: J. Viper

The Beautiful Tyrant: V. Schoenheit

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

The Ruler of the Abyss: M. Draconia

———

notes: i really hope this wasn’t too cringe towards the end with the P&P refs but here we go! Seven chapters to plan AH, I can’t believe I twst-ified jane austen 💀

Chapters are coming soon!! A few are in the works!

Thank you to everyone who was interested in this idea!! What started as some brainrot has become bigger brainrot lmao, I fully appreciate it~

Take care shrimpies!!

———

Taglist: @eclecticprincecollector

@ars-tral @cerisescherries, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps,

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason 😅)

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sgtpeppers · 1 month ago

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"You are my love, you are my song": Paul & Love As A Duet:

One of my favourite things Paul does in his work is use the idea of singing a song with someone as a metaphor for love or a relationship, so I've catalogued the main instances I think this occurs below!

Now, Paul writes lyrics about music/songs a lot (because he's Paul, he lives and breathes music), so this isn't every song that he references music or even references music in terms of a relationship, but the ones I felt explicitly have a 'loving someone = making music with them' lyric.

Starting in the late sixties we have three songs where there are lines about performing alone, or hearing someone else's song but not necessarily being a part of it.

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin, You're waiting for someone to perform with

Hey Jude (1968)

And when at last I find you Your song will fill the air Sing it loud so I can hear you Make it easy to be near you

I Will (1968)

Far away my lover sings a lonely song And calls me to his side When a song of lonely love invites me on I must go to his side

Goodbye (1969), written for Mary Hopkin

Once we get to Paul's first solo album, where he's actively bringing Linda in on his music, we have this line about singing songs alone in the past tense:

I used to ride on my fast city line Singing songs that I thought were mine alone

Man We Was Lonely (1970)

But in the present tense, has someone to sing his songs with:

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song

Maybe I'm Amazed (1970)

On Wild Life, we have the song that captures the idea completely, Paul and Linda singing to and with each other, both of them simultaneously the song, the singer and a recipient of a love song:

You are my love, You are my song, linger on, You are my song, I am your singer. You are my one You are my own melody, You are my song, I am your singer. Someday when we're singing We will fly away, Going winging. Sing, singing my love song to you. My song is sung, When day is done harmonies will linger on, I am your singer, I am your singer, Singing my love song to you.

I Am Your Singer (1973)

In Venus and Mars, we've got a little nod to the same idea, although perhaps less viewing love as a song to perform together, but certainly tying the idea of love and a song together.

My heart cries out for love and all that goes with loving Love in song, love in song

Love in Song (1975)

Then the idea seems to disappear, but reappears on Tug of War with Here Today, a song we know is about John. This isn't necessarily in the same vein as the Linda songs, but the very literal reading is about the importance of singing with John and keeping someone's memory alive in a song.

And if you take that metaphor of love as a song, the duet can still be kept alive if Paul continues to sing for the both of them.

What about the time we met? Well I suppose that you could say that We were playing hard to get Didn't understand a thing But we could always sing … And if I say I really loved you And was glad you came along Then you were here today, For you were in my song

Here Today (1982)

From here on out my thoughts are more scattered, because I think primarily this idea is something he ties to Linda and John. But there are a few more interesting lyrics I think it's worth adding here.

In Press To Play, we've got a reference to 'our' song, which again, alludes to the idea that love is a song created between two people:

If you should ever feel that something's wrong, I'm going to want to put it right, To bring a happy ending to our song, I'll carry on believing in a love.

Only Love Remains (1986)

On Flaming Pie we have him reflecting on how songs were something he and the other Beatles could come back to, this idea of music being a thread that ties him to other people.

But we always came back to the song We were singing At any particular time

The Song We Were Singing (1997)

On Driving Rain he reflects on a time where he was free, his heart was 'singing' and he was doing that with someone else:

I well remember when my soul was free My heart could sing, so could we

Tiny Bubble (2001)

And then this idea of him constantly reaching out, singing a song and waiting for someone else to join in:

If you love me, won't you call me I've been waiting, waiting too long In my soul is constant yearning Always singing, singing this song

Anyway (2005)

I'm not really trying to make some big point here, I just love this motif and especially the ways I think John, Linda and music all tangle together in his head. I'm not usually one for digging into every little line of a song for some sort of hidden meaning, but I do think it's interesting to note when patterns emerge in a body of work.

If anyone's got an additions/thoughts/corrections (or has written a similar post with a more coherent point), please do share, I love chatting about this stuff and reading other people's thoughts!

#paul mccartney #the beatles #wings #ref:lyrics #ref:paul #ref:jp #ref:pl #some of the formatting on this is messed up #but i've tried and tumblr just isn't doing what i want today #im also not saying anything of great importance #i was just thinking about i will + goodbye #and then spiralled

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popamolly · 9 months ago

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‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL!’ ALASTOR

summary. You meet an unexpected guest who gives advice that leaves her feeling uneasy and doubtful. After an intimate night with Alastor, you wake up alone in your room with memories of the night lingering. The following morning, your mother brings up the events of the previous night, potentially addressing the aftermath of your choices and feelings.

PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), not a happy ending, 18+

The tension of the interrogation still hung in the air like a heavy fog, refusing to dissipate even as Alastor made his offer to fetch you a drink. You watched him move through the room, his confident stride belying the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

As some guests timidly spoke to one another in hushed voices, others—emboldened by a few drinks—had taken to the dance floor, their laughter and the rhythmic music creating a stark contrast to the atmosphere you found herself in. Alone for a few moments, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander, each one like a thread leading back to your suspicions of Alastor.

Your mind drifted to Mr. Ray. He had always been more than just a chauffeur; he was a confidant, a protector, and someone who genuinely had your best interests at heart. His words about the rumors swirling around Alastor echoed in your mind, each syllable weighted with a sense of foreboding.

The timing of the conversation and Mr.Ray's disappearance, sent a shiver down your spine. Was it all just simply a coincidence? Irony? It was as if Mr. Ray's warnings had been a premonition, a stark reminder of how quickly things could unravel.

You recalled his earnest expression, the concern etched in every line of his face as he cautioned you about chasing after someone like Alastor. "He's not what he seems," Mr. Ray had said, his voice a mixture of worry.

Despite your determination to uncover the truth, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that Mr. Ray's words had stirred within you. Was Alastor truly the enigmatic figure he presented himself to be, or was there a darker truth hidden beneath his prince-like facade?

You had no concrete evidence to support your doubts, only a nagging feeling that something was amiss. Alastor had always been charming, his words smooth as silk and his demeanor unflappable. But beneath that polished exterior, you couldn't shake the feeling that there were secrets lurking, waiting to be uncovered.

As you sipped on your drink that Alastor had brought over for you seconds before, your eyes followed Alastor as he engaged in polite conversation with another guest, his smile never falling. It was moments like these that made you question yourself, wondering if you were simply being paranoid.

You love him, and you were sure he returned your feelings so you knew his heart, but his mind? His mind was something else entirely. You rarely noticed before but you realized that ever since the first time you met on that fateful night that his mind was heavily guarded, shrouded in mystery, that made him all the more alluring to you. He was hard to read and for awhile you dismissed it as a simple man protecting himself, but from who? From what? The man you loved was unpredictable and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Strange, isn't it?" A woman's voice nearly startles you, "How our men can suddenly walk into a sea of sharks without a care in the world."

The woman's sudden appearance caught you off guard but you managed to face her with a polite smile. "Indeed, it is quite strange," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of curiosity. The woman's tall, slender figure and perfect demeanor made her stand out in the crowd.

"It's as if they're oblivious to the dangers lurking beneath the surface," the woman continued, her eyes scanning the room with a knowing look before following your gaze toward Alastor and another man that seemed to be at his side. "But then again, perhaps they enjoy the thrill of suspense, an excitement for navigating treacherous waters."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with the woman's words, as if you both shared a common understanding of the complexities of human nature, especially when it came to the allure of danger. "Some men do seem drawn to challenges," you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to your champagne glass, "I take it your husband has met my...companion?"

"It seems," The woman's warm smile remained unchanged, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Enlighten me, would you? Tell me, how do you navigate these treacherous waters, my dear?" She asked, her tone playful yet discerning.

With a thoughtful expression, you replied, "Carefully, I suppose."

The woman nodded. "A wise approach indeed. In a world filled with predators, it's important to know when to tread lightly and when to assert yourself."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask for your name," You tilt your head expectantly, realizing that you haven't seen her at any previous parties before.

"Rosemary," The woman grins from ear to ear, her slender fingers almost cradling the wine glass in her hand, "Though I prefer Rosie."

"(Y/N) Duvalier, though I suppose you already knew that," you said, nodding your head to her in acknowledgment. "A pleasure to meet you, Rosie."

Rosie's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Likewise," she replied, her voice carrying a melodious tone. "I must compliment you, you seem to navigate these waters with grace and poise."

A faint blush touched your cheeks at the compliment. "Thank you. I've had my fair share of practice."

"Ah, experience is a valuable teacher," Rosie remarked, her gaze drifting momentarily toward the dance floor where couples twirled to the music. "It teaches us who to trust and who to watch out for."

The weight of Rosie's words resonated with you, reminding you once again of the cautionary advice Mr. Ray had imparted. "Indeed," you agreed, your thoughts briefly returning to the enigmatic Alastor and the mysteries that surrounded him.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, Rosie offered a reassuring smile. "Well, my dear, I won't keep you any longer," she said, gesturing toward the bustling party around them. "But do be cautious, sometimes the most dangerous sharks wear the most charming smiles."

With a nod of understanding, you replied, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Rosie."

They exchanged a final smile before parting ways, leaving you with a newfound sense of vigilance mingled with curiosity about the woman named Rosie and the wisdom she seemed to possess. As she left to mingle with the guests, your thoughts lingered on their conversation, each word a reminder of the delicate balance between trust and suspicion in a world where appearances could be deceiving.

"Darling?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, and you met his gaze, physically startled by his sudden appearance, a reaction he noticed. "Did I scare you? You seem rather jumpy, my dear."

"No, no," you replied quickly, masking your discomfort with a smile as you took another sip of champagne, hoping it would calm your nerves. "I'm just a bit tense from the police questioning me earlier."

"Understandable," Alastor acknowledged, though he could sense your lie. "It's unsettling to think the Bayou Killer could be near, possibly someone you're close to."

You couldn't pinpoint why you felt uneasy around Alastor now, considering he had seen you at your best and worst, most vulnerable moments. Your heart urged you to trust him with your life and future, yet your head was clouded with doubt and suspicion, fueled by a gut feeling— or intuition.

"You think the killer could be someone I know?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a plausible scenario, isn't it? Reminds me of an enticing thriller novel!" Alastor remarked with a grin.

"It's not a joking matter," you replied, your grip tightening around the glass slightly. "That doesn't ease my mind, Alastor."

"Then perhaps I can ease your mind in other ways, mon chère," Alastor's voice was close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at the suggestive tone. All worries faded momentarily as his gaze and voice drew you in, like putty in his hands.

"I couldn't possibly…" You averted your gaze, visibly flustered as if it were your first time experiencing such a situation with him, "My mother—"

He had a knack for manipulating you effortlessly, leading you to succumb to your deepest forbidden desires. Doubts that once troubled you seemed to vanish without a trace.

"Is distracted by the delightful guests; we could slip away for an hour… or perhaps two," Alastor's hand lingered just below your waist, aware of his influence over you, knowing that he could entice your mind with intense pleasure, even though he didn't particularly care for sex. If he could divert your attention, perhaps you would forget your concerns altogether. There was a part of him that held genuine interest in you, prompting him to keep you on the edge, "Indulge me, won't you?"

Your body responded instinctively, surrendering to Alastor's advances as soon as you both slipped away from the bustling party to the seclusion of your room. He was right; with your mother preoccupied and the lively band drowning out any potential eavesdroppers, it was an ideal opportunity to indulge in your desires. It was quite embarrassing how you gave into the temptation so easily but at the sensation of Alastor's warm tongue tracing along the sensitive curves of your neck erased any lingering hesitations.

You gasp the moment your back hits the door, fingers tangling themselves in his Alastor's brown hair to tug at the strands as he makes his way lower, and lower until he is on his knees in front of you, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he orders you to, "lift your dress."

Being obedient, you do as your told, not sparing a second before bunching the soft fabric in your hands to pull your dress up, exposing yourself to him completely. Alastor raises an eyebrow at the sight of your bare womanhood, glancing up at you for an explanantion. "No underwear? Did you, perhaps anticipate this?" He teasingly runs his hand up your inner thigh, allowing his fingers to tease at your already wet folds that seemed to drip with arousal, "how naughty of you, my dear."

"You said you were coming to the party.." You flushed under his intense gaze, "I just..." Your words fell flat, embarrassment coursing through you that was clearly washed away with pleasure once you felt Alastor drag the flat of his tongue against your clit. A shiver goes down your spine and Alastor puts one of your legs over his shoulder so you wouldn’t fall.

Your lips were parted as Alastor sucks and teases your clit, alternating between lapping at your folds and giving your clit the much needed attention it deserved.

"Alastor—! Mm!" Your moans were loud and unashamed, bouncing off the walls of the room as you moved your hips in a desperate need to chase your release. Alastor groaned against your cunt, looking up at you to watch your face contort in pleasure as he lets you take control. Not a moment later your hips were stuttering as you came onto his tongue, your upper body slumping forward, “Ah!"

Alastor let you use his tongue to ride out your high before pulling away, a string of his saliva and your arousal still connecting him to your dripping pussy.

In one swift movement he was on you again, this time tossing you onto your bed and forcing you onto you knees in front of him. There was something animalistic in his gaze that you couldn't tear away from as you gripped his thighs, your fingertips fiddling with the hem of his pants, "Can I?"

Alsstor chuckles as he stands before you, his hand slowly unfastening his belt until he was free of it. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his hard cock from its fabric cage. It sprung out dangerously close to your mouth and you couldn't help but nearly drool at the sight. Never once have you pleasured Alastor in the way he pleasured you and today, tonight, you felt confident in returning the favor to spice things up a bit. Whether it was the drinks you had in your system or a new found confidence, you just wanted nothing more than to make him feel good.

"How good you look on your knees," Alastor comments, twirling a strand of your hair around his index finger with a smile, "you're going to use that pretty mouth of yours on me?"

"Yes," You were breathless, "Please, Alastor, can I?"

"Hmm," He playfully hums the thought as he takes hold of his cock to drag it across your lips, using the wetness to lubricate himself, "Can you?"

You nod.

"Then open your mouth."

You hesitantly opened your mouth, slowly taking his swollen tip into your mouth. Your soft tongue swirling around his slit gingerly before you closed your mouth around it, hallowing your cheeks as you began to suck. Alastor let out a blissful sigh, looking down at you with a smirk that made you unsure if you were doing a good job or not.

"Deeper." Alastor had his hand on the back of your neck to push your head further down his length. His thick cock throbbed inside your mouth as you worked your head up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock in a way that had Alastor groaning in pleasure, "Good girl."

Alastor locked his fingers in your hair, thrusting forward suddenly to push his cock deeper down your throat. You let out a choking sound, saliva dripping down your chin and onto the mounds of your breast as he continued to fuck your face. The mascara you had on ran down your cheeks, further painting you as the sinful masterpiece you were.

You didn't know how long Alastor was using your mouth as his personal fuck toy but it was truly a sight for sore eyes. The man above you was crumbling, slowly succumbing to the pleasures of your mouth as a string of curses passed his lips. It was so beautiful in a sense— seeing his defenses down ever so slightly to the point where you could finally seem to see through him. You had to rub your thighs together to get some sort of friction happening because you were wet at just the sight of him.

Without warning Alastor's cum filled your mouth and you struggled to swallow his huge load due to your aching jaw. Your lungs were on fire but you braved through it, the semen you didn't swallow ultimately going down your chin and mixing with your own saliva, dripping onto the wooden floor.

"I love you," you gasp, the words tumbling out as you try to catch your breath.

"In heaven and in hell, my dear," Alastor whispers, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "You're mine forever."

The air around you seems to shimmer with the intensity of his words, his love wrapping around you like a warm embrace. In his eyes, you see a depth of devotion that transcends time and space, a promise of eternal connection and unwavering loyalty.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, reaching out instinctively for Alastor's comforting presence beside you. However, your hand met nothing but cool sheets, sending a jolt of realization through your sleepy haze.

Your eyes fluttered open, searching the room for any sign of him. The bed, once filled with your shared warmth, now felt cold and empty. You remembered the events of the previous night—Alastor's whispered words of love, the tenderness in his touch, and then, his sudden departure in the dead of night.

Heart pounding, you sat up, wrapping the sheets around yourself as you scanned the room, hoping to find him there. But the room was silent, save for the soft rustle of curtains in the morning breeze. Begrudgingly, you swung your legs over the bed to get your day started, rummaging through your closets for something to wear.

A soft knock interrupted your dressing routine, prompting you to don just a simple gown and drape yourself in a feathered robe before answering. "Breakfast is ready, ma'am," a maid's voice called out, followed by the faint sound of her retreating footsteps down the hallway. You let out a sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the inevitable tense morning ahead with your Mother.

Descending the stairs, you entered the small breakfast room where your mother sat. Her gaze remained fixed on the morning newspaper, not bothering to acknowledge your presence as you took a seat and thanked the maid who poured you a cup of hot coffee.

The oppressive silence hung heavy as you ate, the tension palpable. It was evident that your mother was displeased, resorting to the cold shoulder treatment. You felt like you were tiptoeing on thin ice, afraid of triggering her anger with even the slightest misstep. As you nibbled on your toast, her words finally pierced the quiet air.

"’The Duvalier family questioned in the recent disappearance case, are they suspects now’?" she read aloud from the newspaper, her tone chilly as she took a sip of her own coffee.

"They don't waste any time," you quipped lightly, but your attempt at humor fell flat in the icy atmosphere.

"Is this amusing to you?" Her reprimand cut through the tension, devoid of any hint of amusement, "Funny?"

"Not at all," you replied calmly, though the practiced tone belied the turmoil within. "I realize how this affects our reputation, but we need to be looking at the bigger picture. Mr. Ray's disappearance is concerning. I figured you’d be quick in wanting to find an answer, considering Mr.Ray’s years of loyal service to this house."

"And yet suspicion falls on you," your mother retorted sharply, tossing the newspaper onto the table as her gaze met yours with equal intensity. "My own daughter, questioned under my own roof, in front of esteemed guests. How will we recover from this?"

"Is that all you're worried about?" you countered.

"What were you doing with Mr. Ray that night?" Your mother brushed aside your question, her tone demanding.

You let out a bitter laugh. "Do you truly believe I'm capable of something sinister?"

"I believe you're capable of naivety," she replied bluntly. "Now, tell me."

After a moment's hesitation, you relented. There was no use in concealing the truth when there were no secrets left to keep.

"I asked him to accompany me," you murmured, "To find Alastor."

"To find Alastor," your mother echoed with a touch of scorn, the sight of the hickies on your neck making her eye twitch with distaste. "Ever since he entered your life, you seem to attract nothing but trouble."

Your mother's words stung, the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you. "It's not like that," you insisted, the words sounding feeble even to your own ears. "Alastor is… different."

"Different, yes," your mother says, her expression hard. "He's a danger you don't seem to comprehend."

"I know what I'm doing," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Do you?" Her gaze bore into yours, searching for any sign of wavering resolve.

"Yes," you replied firmly, though uncertainty gnawed at you from within. You loved Alastor, yes, but even still he seems to be so out of reach from you. Out of reach from reality at times.

As your mother received an envelope from a maid on a silver platter, you picked at your food, your thoughts swirling with the weight of the morning's conversation. She opened the white envelope with a butter knife, her expression turning thoughtful as she read the contents of the letter. "It seems we've been invited to witness the final alligator hunt of the season," she remarked, her tone still tinged with the earlier tension. "Your uncle requests our presence in the early afternoon."

"Are you seriously considering going? That doesn't sound very proper," you teased lightly, hoping to ease the lingering strain between you and your mother. Her light laughter was a welcome sound, a fleeting moment of relief amidst the turmoil that had defined your interactions lately. You cherished the rare moments of levity between you two, reminders of the bond you desperately wanted to mend.

"No, it's not particularly ladylike," she admitted with a smile, the remnants of her earlier anger dissipating. "But maybe we all need to shoot something."

You watched as she left the room, her smile fading into a neutral expression. "Dress your best," she called back to you, her words a reminder of the importance of appearances in their social circle. "We must show that we are unaffected by these recent events."

Alone at the table, you released a deep sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily on your shoulders. Between navigating your mother's expectations and the complexities of your relationship with Alastor, you felt like you were standing on shaky ground, unsure if you could find your balance again. Yet, amid the challenges, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could improve, if only you could tread carefully enough.

── ꒰ ‧˚ author’s note ｡˚ ꒱ don't yell at me ya'll! i know i took a much needed break due to personal matters but i am back on track so i will try my best to update this story every weekend moving forward, if not then know that I will try my best to push out an ACCEPTABLE chapter as soon as i can. i rather take my time with this story instead of rushing to publish a chapter, i hope you all understand. in other words, thank you for the constant love and support, i read ALL your comments and appreciate them!

should i make a separate master list for this story? i feel like the chapters will be easier to find and more organized if I did that, what do you all think?

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ofdrivensnow · 6 months ago

Text

After he got the idea to stop yelling at her to stop hiding from him, he clutched his burning arm and dragged the gun with him. Angry tears stung at his eyes, flooding his cheeks, mud sticking to his face and arms and pants. It took tremendous willpower to not start yelling again, especially as the pain struck through him, convinced this snake bite was going to kill him. He should give up, let her be, but he wasn't about to do that. If he was dying anyway, he might as well be relentless and drag himself through the woods with the goal to not let Lucy Gray away with this.

Pain from the snake bite was throbbing his forearm as he stifled his cries by biting into his other arm and betrayal... even if it was him, the one not being honest, it was still Lucy Gray who had betrayed him. Taking off, trying to kill him, probably on her way to tell on him. His mind raced in several million directions... he'd been wandering aimlessly forever and probably would've walked right past her IF she hadn't spoke. If he hadn't heard the voice that startled him.

He quickly turned and frantically glanced around before finding the dark hair sticking out from behind the tree. He stormed closer and felt in disbelief he had successfully found her. It made him angrier when he felt that stupid ounce of relief had ran through him knowing she didn't slip away forever from him, after all. Why would he feel relief for that AT all? She attempted to KILL him and now, he needs to learn to return the favor. "Now? Now you're giving up, Lucy Gray?" he bitterly spoke through gritted teeth as he appeared from behind the tree. He kept his distance in case she had anymore snakes. "After trying to KILL me?" Arm with the bite stuck out to her, shaking his arm, "Run and tell on me?" Brows creased in anger and disgust, "To save yourself? Apparently, the only thing that's stopped you from that is you ran out of breath."

open starter for anybody ; set after lucy gray left the cabin <3 run. run. RUN. was all that could go through lucy gray's head as she sprinted away from the cabin through the trees. she was running as fast as her legs would carry her, everything in her telling her that she needed to get away from him if she wanted to survive. the words kept ringing in her head three's enough for me, he'd told her when she said they wouldn't have to kill anymore. three. she knew of two. bobbin and mayfair. all she'd asked for was the truth, yet she was met with a lie. my old self, coriolanus had told her as she demanded to know who the third was. lucy gray wasn't born yesterday, she could spot a lie from a mile away.

trust was the most important thing to her. trust outweighed love and yes, she had loved him. loved. now, all she could picture was those icy blue eyes gazing into her soul. would he kill her ? she didn't know, but she wasn't taking that chance. she couldn't take that chance. that was why she'd said she was going to pick katniss, her chance to escape and survive. lucy gray wished that she'd heeded dean highbottom's warning, wished that she hadn't let herself fall for the blond. any and all love she felt was gone, now all that was left was the need to flee.

as she kept running, the brunette felt her chest tightening, the crisp air filling her lungs, stinging as her heart raced in her chest. she needed to stop and catch her breath. ducking behind a tree, lucy gray took a moment, the breaths coming out more like gasps as she stayed there. the sound of coriolanus yelling for her caused her to panic more. she wasn't a fighter, he outpowered her anyway, but she could run. she could hide.

when she spotted the snake, lucy gray decided that she'd try to buy herself some time, dropping the scarf he'd given her to cover it up. she knew by looking at it that the snake wasn't venomous, it wouldn't hurt him too badly if he got bitten. it would just slow him down enough for her to get away. after the distraction was set, the brunette began to run again, hoping that the wind in the trees would cover up any noise that came from her feet on the ground.

it wasn't until she was hidden by a tree on the outer part of the woods that she'd realized her earring had fallen out in all of the chaos. she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. the games weren't over when she'd returned home, these were still the games. her own survival was what mattered. lucy gray almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming toward her, but when she did it was too late to run. whoever it was had only been two paces from her now, and with how tired she was, they'd most likely be able to catch her if she ran. her eyes shut tightly as she braced herself for the figure to come closer, assuming it was coriolanus coming to kill her, to finish tying up the loose ends.

❝ just get it over with, ❞ the words came out more shaky than she'd intended. she wasn't usually one for giving up, but she knew that she had no more energy to keep running. if coriolanus had found her, then he won.

#ok u know that thread we have where theyre being lovey wovey *in* the woods #i had an idea?? what if that/this a separate verse from our other thg ones we've had?#and i continue this reply from that thread? and this is what ends up happening.#theyve been in the woods a lot longer than how canon went but coryo still lies and he finds her this time #but if not. THATS completely fine too im just throwing around ideas ndkjds #also it doesnt have to be this thread/verse or ever bc its 100% up to you #but what if... we threw in news of a snowbaird baby to make their lives EVEN MORE angst than it alrdy is😳#some time after this? or somewhere else😳 (if u have interest in that) DEDDDDD😳

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