#this is supposed to be a TERRIFYING moment and i cannot take this sentence seriously.

[illusion-reality-steve]

Have my favorite deleted line from Act 3

Without thinking, Illusion panicked and began shuffling.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

In one of your newer asks (forgot which one) you said that Harry got over Sirius' death quickly and that he liked what he represented not the actual person. Can you explain Harry's reactions to the deaths of people (he "loves")? And what he actually liked/valued? I hope you understand what I'm talking about. . .

So, I made a post in which I revealed the crux of my thoughts on Harry. In short, Harry’s a psychopath. And no, I’m not exaggerating or throwing words out there. By the end of the series, Harry is one seriously scary dude.

He shows a complete lack of empathy for anyone or anything in all circumstances.

When Hermione narks on Harry’s suspicious Firebolt Chirstimas present, he refuses to speak to her for half a year and it takes Hagrid having an intervention for him to consider maybe (maybe) deigning to speak with her again. When Marietta’s mother is in the position of losing her job at the Ministry, and Marietta narks, Cho tries to point this out to Harry and Harry tells her snitches get stitches. Harry gleefully goes to Hogsmeade in his third year despite the entire government desperately trying to protect him, it takes about ten people pointing this out until Harry finally feels vaguely guilty.

Harry’s rage is terrifying. He gleefully uses a curse which he has been told many times is evil to torture another human being and feels next to nothing afterwards (there’s no reflection on who this makes him as a person). His stalking of and later butchering of Draco Malfoy is dismissed shockingly easily, he’s not upset about having nearly accidentally murdered Draco but instead more about getting caught and then that his beloved Halfblood Prince is really Snape.

Why am I talking about this?

Because I think Harry’s incapable of love.

... The utter irony and blasphemy of that sentence just struck me. Let’s pause a moment and sit in wonder that it has come to this.

Right.

Harry has... friends, but they’re always friends of convenience. Whenever they happen to disagree with him, on anything, it’s always the friend who has to crawl back (and they do because he’s Harry Mother Fucking Potter). To Harry the world is marvelously black and white, divided into those that like him and those that do not.

Think about it, does Harry admire or like anyone who does not personally like him? I can’t think of a single one.

When Percy refuses to believe Harry, for very understandable reasons, Harry sours on him far beyond he already had (I admit he wasn’t overly fond of Percy, as Percy was the brother no one liked and Ron vented about him constantly). Fleur is an Ice Queen Bitch until Harry saves Gabrielle’s life and she becomes very grateful to and sweet to him. 

He can’t deal with nuances. We see this with Dumbledore. Harry finds out that Dumbledore used him in perhaps the most heinous manner imaginable. Dumbledore, perhaps, cared nothing for him at all. However, Harry cannot come to terms with this, given how well the man seemed to have treated him in the past, and instead creates this heroic martyr legend for Dumbledore.

Same with Snape, the instant Harry learns that Snape had been Dumbledore’s agent, suddenly the past doesn’t matter and Snape is the bravest man Harry knows.

My point being, Harry doesn’t love Sirius, he barely knows Sirius, what he instead loves is the idea of Sirius. Sirius is Harry’s first real promise of family, of a father figure, and of escape from the Dursleys. While it’s not possible now, it’s something that can soon become a reality, something Harry wants desperately.

Harry’s grief for Sirius’ death presents itself as some seriously scary rage (i.e. the stalking of Draco Malfoy) but it never seems to be about Sirius himself. Harry doesn’t miss any aspects of Sirius himself all that much just... the notion of him, the promise of him. Which I think is what Sirius ultimately was to Harry.

Sirius and Harry never really saw each other clearly. Sirius is a mess after Azkaban and is fixated on the memory of James that lives inside Harry. Harry doesn’t mind this, or even really notice that Sirius isn’t in a good place, because Sirius is just the idea of a father to him.

But yes, I think for Harry, in general, his grief for things is very shortlived and tends to manifest in RAGE. We spend, what, a chapter feeling sad Hedwig died? (To be fair, as a reader the idea that Hedwig’s death is supposed to make me feel something always made me laugh). We get  a good few days being sad that Dobby died for the cause. 

Harry was relatively sad when Snape died and revealed the truth, but mostly I think because he was having the existential crisis one must have when you realize you were secretly a Kamikaze agent this entire time. 

Yeah, Harry, what a guy. 

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[ahtohallan-calling]

all that matters in the end // kristanna post f2 one-shot // angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending

read on ao3

thank you @gabiwnomagic for once again collabing with me on this fic and for the beautiful art!

One moment, Kristoff has a hand raised in the air to wave a greeting to their hosts, the other pressed casually against Anna’s lower back.

And then the next he’s on his knees and still falling, and the cape she’d been wearing is in tatters, half in his hand and half still hanging from her shoulders as she charges after the assassin with the sword she’d yanked from Kristoff’s belt the second she’d seen the flash of a knife.

It’s meant for decoration more than anything, not sharp enough to kill, but she knows from the way the man gasps and scrabbles at her hands that it still hurts like hell when it’s crushed against an exposed throat.

She can’t look back, only down at the assassin’s purpling face and the scratches his blunt nails leave on her fingers. If she doesn’t look back then that means Kristoff is still alive and not bleeding out, sentenced to death for the crime of standing beside her.

“Mercy,” the man gasps, and she presses harder. 

---

Someone took the sword from her; she’s not sure when. Her fingers itch for it still, curling and uncurling at her side as she waits in an unfamiliar room for him to wake. 

The king and queen have been exceedingly gracious, have cancelled all matters of diplomacy and state and locked down the capital til the would-be murderers are caught.

(Would-be, because he’s going to survive. He has to. When she had turned back he was already unconscious, and she cannot fathom a world where she didn’t get to say goodbye.)

And they’re in a suite of guest rooms now, with guards posted at every door and window, and a revolving team of physicians, and Anna has a bed for herself, but the sheets haven’t even been pulled back.

She brushes her fingers over his cheek again, trails them down to cup his jaw. “Look at me,” she pleads, “wake up and look at me, honey, I promise I’m here. I’m not leaving, not ever again.”

She’s told him that once before, after the forest. She promised. And then she ran after the assassin anyway instead of even lingering long enough to catch Kristoff as he fell.

“Forgive me,” she sobs, begging him now as tears course down her cheeks and she curls forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “I mean it this time.”

---

When he does wake, she cries so hard it scares him.

He tries to reach for her out of instinct, but then a hiss of pain tears from him as he falls back against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Anna gasps as she runs her hands over his face, through his hair, across his shoulders, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Kristoff.”

He finally catches her wrists and stills them. “For what, baby?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion. 

Before she can give him the answer he deserves, the doctors sweep in, and she backs into a corner of the room, watching from afar and trying to stem the flood. Mattias sees her and stands beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “It’s alright, your majesty,” he says, sounding so paternal that despite his gentle words the tears start all over again. 

He murmurs reassurances and holds her, and she hates herself for accepting them, when all she’s done is sit around feeling sorry for herself. 

And leave, she reminds herself furiously, you fucking left when you said you wouldn’t.

She wants to leave again now, to escape Kristoff’s worried gaze, focused on her even as the doctors poke and prod at him. She doesn’t deserve the kindness in his eyes; she never has, but she’s terrified of what her world would become without it.

---

They go home a few days later; the visit was to forge a stronger bond, and that has been accomplished, at least. Now she knows that Corona will stand with Arendelle under any circumstances, and has assured them that her own kingdom and people owe them a debt that could never be fully repaid.

There’s not going to be a trial; the assassins went down fighting, and all intelligence points to a rogue group that has evaporated after the botched attempt on their lives. Still, there are extra guards onboard the ship with them, posted outside their stateroom doors.

Anna doesn’t see much of them, only catches glimpses when food is brought by. She eats for Kristoff’s sake more than her own; he won’t touch his own supper until he’s watched her force down a few mouthfuls.

They don’t speak much; apologies lay heavy on her tongue like burning coals, stifling any other conversation that would normally flow with such ease between them. Kristoff doesn’t ask for them, doesn’t give any indication at all that he even expects them, only keeps looking at her with those sad, dark eyes, catching her hand and holding it tightly.

“I love you,” she tells him again, the only words she can manage to get out.

For once, he doesn’t say he loves her too. Instead he squeezes her hand a little tighter and says, “You’re scaring me, baby.”

I know, she wants to tell him, I know and I’m sorry for that too, and I’m scared too, and I’m not leaving again, but if you want to now--

“I love you,” she whispers again, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

---

The bandages came off today.

She didn’t even have to tell Gerda she’d make her own bed the next morning, their own secret code, normally delivered with a wink and answered with a fond sigh and shake of the head. But today, the older woman took one look at the expression on the queen’s face and said softly, “I’ll not send anybody up til the afternoon, Anna.”

She wishes she was still just Anna to everybody. Then she wouldn’t be in a bed that still felt too big in a room that felt too stuffy on a night that felt like it would never end.

And Kristoff wouldn’t have a fucking hole in his side.

Not a hole anymore, she reminds herself dully, not like it was a month ago when the assassin’s knife was torn free, spilling spurts of crimson all down the vest she’d had made for him to match her new blue dress. 

After, when Mattias had draped a blanket over her shoulders and pulled her close to try and stop the shaking, she’d asked through chattering teeth, “Why didn’t it turn purple? It’s blue and red, so why didn’t it turn purple? That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

“Your majesty,” he’d said softly, “I think you need to lie down,” and when she’d refused he’d slipped her a powder that kept her from doing anything else for the next day.

But it’s not a hole anymore; it’s a puckered red scar, one she can feel through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. She tries to focus on something, anything else; brushes her nose against the warm expanse of his back, presses a kiss to the knob of his spine, slips a hand under the shirt to press against the warmth of his stomach as it rises and falls with each sleep-slow breath.

He’s alive, but now it’s in spite of something, and the thought of that is going to haunt her for many more nights to come.

---

She’s been waiting for this a long time. She closes her eyes now, lets it wash over her and soak her to the bone.

“Jesus, Anna,” he says, frustrated. “I just-- I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me.”

There it is; the dismissal she deserves. She rises so quickly her head spins, and before he can say another word the door is closed behind her. 

She’ll see to it that he’s taken care of, of course, for the rest of his life, though God knows he’s never needed her and all this finery, not when he’s known how to survive on the side of the mountain since he was a child. But she’ll do it, all the same, love him in a way that doesn’t hurt him, as long as he’ll let her. 

The ring, though; that’s the one selfishness he’ll have to allow her. She’ll pay him for it, if he wants, but she can’t stand even the thought of looking down and seeing her left hand bare once more. She’ll not take it off, not for herself or anyone else; she’ll have to talk to her sister, or to Kai and Gerda if she’s no help, find out if there’s some distant cousin who can inherit, because--

She cries out in surprise when a heavy hand settles on her shoulder. “Sorry,” Kristoff says hastily, though he doesn’t let go; instead he leans more heavily on her, taking a moment to catch his breath as his other hand clutches at his side.

“You’re-- you’re not supposed to be overexerting yourself,” she says frantically, turning and setting her hands on his ribs to help him stay upright. 

“And you’re not supposed to leave,” he replies, so seriously she flinches and looks away. “Anna, you promised.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry I broke it, I--”

“No,” he says fiercely, resting his forehead against hers. “I heard you. You said if I woke up you wouldn’t leave again.”

Something in the ruin of her heart stirs at the thought that somehow even unconscious he knew her, heard her calling for him, came back for her-- but the warmth is fleeting, snuffed out by the hurt in his eyes. She shakes her head frantically. “I-- I know-- but it’s better this way, I’m glad you see it now, I--”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you can’t do it anymore,” she whimpers. “And I-- you’re right, you can’t. I can’t ask you to. This is all my fault, Kris, I’m so sorry.”

He pulls her closer to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head as his hand runs soothingly up and down her spine. “It’s not, baby, none of it is.”

“If you-- if you never met me, then you’d still be safe. You’d be with the trolls and Sven and you’d be--”

“I’d be alone, even with them. I don’t want-- I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to.”

“You could have died,” she chokes out, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. “And it would have been my fault, and I-- I--” She gulps for air, squeezes her eyes shut; she can’t stand to see the tenderness in his expression, not right now. “When they-- when you...I’ve never been more scared, Kris, not of anything. Not ever.”

His hand stills on her back. “But you…”

“I’d-- I’d take freezing to death, and Hans and all his bullshit, and the rock giants and all of it, I’d do it all over again if that would undo this. I can’t imagine anything worse than losing you.”

“Oh,” he manages to say. “Oh, Anna…”

“I love you,” she whispers. “More than anything. You have to believe me.”

He kisses her forehead again, each of her cheeks, even the tip of her nose, and waits until she finally looks at him before speaking again. “I do,” he says softly. “I do.”

They stand there for a while longer, until his breathing is steady once more and the last of the tears on her cheeks dry. She nuzzles her cheek against his chest, letting the warmth of him sink into her. “I’m sorry, Kristoff,” she says for what feels like the millionth time; some days it feels like failure is all she has to offer him, and still he stays.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs. “I know how it feels to be afraid like that.”

And he does; she knows that, knows he tosses and turns at night and calls her name until she’s able to rouse him, knows how his heart pounds under the press of her hand for a while afterward. 

She lets her fingers drift down to his side, to settle lightly over the scar she thinks she can feel even through the layers of his nightshirt and robe. He lowers his own hand to press over hers, large enough to cover it entirely.

“It’s alright, Anna,” he reassures her. “I’m here.”

And so he is, and that’s all that matters, really, in the end.

---

a/n: i want to say another huge thank you to gabi for the inspiration and idea, for helping me develop the story, for the art, and for being such a fantastic friend to me and so many others. love you angel xo

[casperki]

Trust Me • Chapter 1

Summary: I led a quiet little life, surrounded by wonderful people. My daily life consisted of taking care of others. I was happy to lead a simple life, until I became the prisoner of the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Theme: Fluff, Romance, Angst, Policy, Power, Adventure, Middle Age, Soldiers

Pairing: Warrior! Min Yoongi x Caregiver! Original Character

Word count: 1,7k

Warning: language, violence, aggressivity

Disclaimer: Storyline, events and characters are fictitious, I only borrow BTS’ members name and physical appearance. Some events may be inspired by historical ones, but they aren’t accurate. Please keep in mind English isn’t my first language, I still lack vocabulary, I do some mistakes and my sentences may not be as pretty as natives’ speaker ones. Don’t hesitate to correct me and give me some advice, I would be more than happy to improve!

- - -

My eyelids are so heavy. However, I cannot sleep. I must stay awake. My back hurts against the strong bars behind me. Every parts of my body hurts. At least it is a proof I am still alive. But for how long? It has been days, maybe weeks or months I have not eaten nor drunk correctly.

My eyelids are becoming heavier. I cannot take a nap now, not now everyone is supposedly sleeping. As days before, the convoy we are stopped for the night to get some rest.

I am exhausted, dehydrated and starving. My brain cannot even think properly nor remember how I managed to get there, with these men. I can only focus on surviving, on staying awake when they are all asleep. I could sleep when the sun rise, when we get back on the road so they will be busy finding their way.

My legs and knees hurt but I cannot expend them. The cage is too small. At least I do not have to walk miles a day into the mud like other prisoners. My crime is to be the only woman of the convoy and probably the last one those prisoners see before a long time. The first night of our journey, I remember falling asleep on the grass, my head resting on the root of a tree, when I felt wandering hands trying to open my dress. I opened my eyes with fear to see a prisoner so closed to me with his hands ripping off my petticoat. This vison terrified me so much that my screams woke up the entire regiment. The closest soldier came in hurry, quickly followed by another one to repel the prisoner and to beat me for being too loud. That was the reason why I ended up being lock into this wooden cage. “you make them hungry” a soldier explained with a look of disgust towards me, acting like prisoners were the only threat for me, like soldiers were not also looking for some fresh meet.

I am freezing even more since the sun is rising. I put my knees closer to my chest and blow on my dirty hands to feel some warm. My wrists hurt because of the tight strings. I can feel the strings encrusted into my flesh.

Daybreak slowly woke the convoy up. Prisoners are allowed to drink some water from the river close by before we get back on the road. A soldier approached the cage with a small bowl-like full of water. This stupid one poured more than the half on my dress trying to give me drink through the bars. I savoured the so rare water, knowing I would not get any sooner. Once the horses are harnessed, we resumed our interminable journey.

The sun was on the zenith when I reopened my eyes. I cannot recognise the landscape around us. I have never been this far from wherever I was coming from. We may have even left the country; I could not tell. The convoy stopped again to drink a bit. A soldier, the one with smalls eyes and an authoritative tone, their leader, told us -more like he yelled at us- we would not stop again until we reach our destination. He didn’t mention our destination before and yet remained silence about where we were going. Finally, I know that we aren’t travelling aimlessly. However, I still don’t know why I am here and who these men are. Thanks to their habits I deduced they are soldiers for the most of them. The others, the prisoners, were poorly dressed, chained to each other.

***

An aggressive yell woke me up. I could not understand what it says. A sharp pain onto my arm made me open my eyes. The dumb soldier was pulling my arm to get me out of the cage. I complied and managed myself to get out of the cage. Looking around I cannot see anything else than darkness. Only few torches light up the convoy and some small buildings. It seemed like we reached a city.

The dumb soldier still holding strongly my arm, an other soldier, taller, places a cloth on my eyes to keep them close. I could hear the leader ordering his soldiers to wait for us here before I hear him going ahead me. The dumb soldier pushed my arm forward, ordering me to walk.

My blindfolded eyes and my exhausted body made me stumble and fall few times. My legs, bent for days in that small cage, forgot how to walk properly, making the soldiers yell at me to get up. After long minutes, I supposed we reached the destination. I could feel a tough floor under my feet and hear footsteps clearly, a paved alley. My body should have guessed we were arrived, my legs gave way to fall on my knees. I could actually feel how exhausted I was. My whole body was heavy and hurt. Every part of myself was painful: my skull tightening my brain, my dried mouth and throat, my heavy rib cage seemed to small to breath properly, my empty stomach and my bruised wrist and knees. It was so hard to breath and to stay up, I desperately wanted to meet the ground to get some rest.

“Ya! Stand correctly!” a soldier yelled at me.

Weariness preventing me to stand on my feet, I tried to push myself back on my knees. I heard what I guess being doors opening and steps drawing near. Was my executioner approaching us? After these hardships, being locked in a cage for days with the minimum of water and food, my dead would be the logical end of this horrible trip. What crime had I committed to deserve the death penalty? Did I even commit a crime? There had to be a reason for that. I should deserve it after all.  My end was near. We are supposed to see our life pass before our eyes before dying. But I could not remember anything. Who am I? Where am I from? Do I have any relatives? I had no response. I could only think about how exhausted, dirty, and suffering I was. My only wish is to end this moment, quickly.

“Bow your head whore!!” The leader yelled at me.

I was already struggling keeping myself up due to fatigue and dizziness, bowing my head down would make me fall on the ground.

“Ya! Seriously!” Since I did not obey, the leader slapped me, what made me meet the floor.

“Hey! What is that?” A strong and deep voice came from above me.

I tried my best to sit up back and the soldier on my left pulled my arm up after doing from what I could hear was a military salute.

“My General” The leader spoke. “We just arrived. Here is the prisoner you asked for, my General.”

A general? For my execution? I should have committed a horrible crime, against the royal family to deserve this privilege.

“Prisoner?” The said General asked. “You blindfolded her eyes??” through his tone, the General seemed to disapprove what he was observing.

“Well… That’s what we usually do to bring you slaves, my General.” The leader explained.

“Slaves? I really hope for your wife you treat her better!” The General spoke curtly. By the unknown fragrance reaching my nose, I guessed the General came closer to my face. I felt the cloth being untie. I slowly opened my eyes, but my vision was blurred, I could not distinguish the said General face. I could only see a bright blond hair.

“Why does she look so dirty? Don’t tell me you made her walk the entire journey!” The General’s tone was strict and threatening.

“At first, we chained her with the others prisoners, but we quickly had to lock her-“

“You what?” The leader could not even finish his sentence, the General looked at him with a black gaze.

“M-my General” the leader’s tone became less insured “Prisoners were crazy because of her! They were untenable, they only wanted to touch her and-” Whined the leader.

“Seriously?” The General’s tone indicated how furious he was.

My eyes wide open, I could clearly see the man in front of me. His black gaze contrasted with his pretty and pale face. He was well dressed in expensive clothes, no wonder he was the General of the royal army. I contemplated his face, half fascinated, half scared. I was confused. The most respected and powerful man of the kingdom, after the king himself, was kneeling in front of me, taking my hands into his to cut the rope. So many questions jostled in my head. Why was he so gentle with me? Wasn’t he supposed to behead me? He took his time to look at my dirty hands and bruised wrists. Yet I felt so soil, humiliated and dishonoured in front of the General, in my dirty torn dress, covered in mud. He looked back at me, but I couldn’t handle his gaze because of the shame. Yet I felt a soft warm on each side of my face, I guessed it was his hands.

“Damn it! My poor damsel.” He said calmly. I haven’t known kindness and care since so long time. I felt considered as human again. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I closed my eyes and let my tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You’re lucky I have a debt to your father otherwise you’d be already beheaded.” The General’s tone was firm, threatening the leader.

My tears were unstoppable. I was frozen, starving, dehydrated, covered in mud and this man, this General, was hugging me so warmly to reassure me.

“M-my General I had no clue-“ The leader was freaking out.

“Enough!” The General ordered firmly what made a contrast with his nice but tight hugging. “Park JinSung! Bring them to the dungeon and make sure they don’t come out for a week.”

“But my General-“ The leader spoke again.

“Don’t discuss my order or you’ll be lock there for a month.” The General tone was low but firm.

I tried to calm down while I eared the three soldiers and the guard leaving. The General was gently rubbing my back. All this kindness seemed so weird after what I endured, yet so much appreciated.

“Damsel, everything is ok now.” He whispered calmly. “They won’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

                                                          ***

                                                                                               Next chapter >>

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part IV

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 4

2.6K words

Mentions: verbal arguing, physical fighting, swearing, vulgar insults

---

For the second time in a week, you find yourself surrounded by your ladies as you soak in the bathtub. It’s eerily quiet now, quieter than it was when all of you first did this.

Sabe’s bathing you again, more out of nervous need to do something than anything, you think, but everyone else sits in silence. You let her clean you, unsure of where you should start with all of this. You feel like your conversation with the Supreme Leader occurred days ago, yet he’s only been gone for less than an hour.

“Your ring is ridiculously big,” Sabe tells you, teasing in a rather subdued way as she run soap over your left hand.

“You’re just jealous that no man’s every given you a piece of space itself,” Joon counters, sticking her tongue out at Sabe when Sabe shoots daggers her way.

Joon’s smart remark cuts the tension, but Helda’s innocent little giggle breaks it entirely. You finally crack a smile, eternally grateful that all of your friends love to poke fun at one another.

“It’s not a piece of space,” you say, looking down at the prettiness of your ring. “It’s a gemstone. Not even the First Order is capable of capturing the stars.”

Sabe rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as she does it. “One man buys her a piece of jewelry and now she fancies herself a poet.”

Lydia snorts at that, recoiling when you splash her with a bit of water for it.

“I love my ring,” you declare evenly, sinking down further into the water. Sabe pinches your side, grinning mischievously.

“Yes, but do you love Kylo Ren?” she teases. You splash her too, managing to douse the front of her dress fairly well.

Helda laughs at that, and you have to grab Sabe’s arm to stop her from attacking the girl with a splash of her own.

“I think that’s enough,” Lydia says, moving behind you to wet and wash your hair. Her touch is relaxing, and you let your eyes slip closed as she massages your scalp.

“What did the two of your talk about, besides your little piece of the galaxy?” It’s as close as Lydia will come to a jest, but you know that she’s far more concerned about the Supreme Leader’s treatment of you.

“Where he got the rings from, the wedding,” you answer, casual even as you remember how you nearly stormed out of the room when Kylo insinuated that he wasn’t excited for the ceremony.

“That’s all?” Lydia asks, still working the shampoo through your hair.

You hesitate at that, considering the implications of being honest for a moment.

“He offered me an out,” you admit quietly.

Lydia’s fingers still in your hair, suds slipping down her wrists and onto your shoulders. Sabe and Joon are slack-jawed, simply staring at you, and Helda twists her hands nervously in her skirt at the sight of everyone’s disbelief.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks, seemingly the only one able to speak. You refuse to look at her or at anyone else, for that matter.

“He said he wouldn’t marry me if I didn’t want to be his wife,” you explain, biting your lip.

“Then why do you still have that ring on?” Sabe asks, and there’s an edge to her voice that makes the back of your neck prickle.

“Sabe-“ Joon begins, already sensing a problem. Joon’s always been good at that, cluing in on people’s emotions before they have chance to spike.

“No, Joon, shut up,” Sabe barks, jumping to her feet. She’s furious, eyes ablaze, hands balled up tight by her sides. “You aren’t seriously going to marry him now, are you?”

Lydia begins rinsing the soap from your hair, making quick work of the task. All you can do is stare up at Sabe, wide-eyed as your mouth moves of its own accord. No words come out, only short, aborted sounds that make you sound like a fool.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Sabe spits, shaking her head as if she’s disgusted by the mere site of you.

Lydia’s done with your hair now, urging you out of the bathtub. “What is that supposed to mean?” you counter, deeply offended by Sabe’s demeanor. Helda’s by your side now with a towel and your robe, already trying to dry you and get you dressed.

“Your uncle practically sells you off to the galaxy’s biggest tyrant, and you mope around and act like you’ve been sentenced to death. Fine, I can understand that!” Sabe exclaims, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “But then the Supreme Leader himself gives you an opportunity to call the whole thing off, and you don’t take it? What the fuck is that?”

Everyone’s trying to talk now, you and Joon and Lydia all cutting in at the same time. Only Helda remains silent, standing off to the side and watching on anxiously, still twisting and twisting her fists in the fabric of her skirts.

“Sabe, you need to calm-“ Joon tries to say.

“I cannot believe-“ Lydia hisses, cut off by you.

“It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” you tell Sabe. A feeling of anxiety clamps down on your chest, and you feel so cold in the warmth of the room.

Your statement incenses Sabe. “What makes it so complicated then, Princess? Hm? Because it seems simple to me.” She jabs her finger at you, almost accusatorily. “You were fucking terrified to marry Kylo Ren, but now you’re not, and all after one conversation with the man! Why is that?”

A wave of anger washes over you at that, it makes you shiver in your robe. “The Supreme Leader thinks I can help the Order,” you hiss, taking a step towards your friend. “He wants me to help him rule.”

“He said that?” Joon interjects, brows raised. You nod, at her, whipping your head around quickly.

Sabe’s scoff feels like a punch in the gut. “Why?” she asks, not looking for an actual answer. “Your uncle has you make appearances for diplomatic reasons and that’s about it. You’ve never led negotiations or organized a benefit. You’ve never commanded an army or drafted a peace treaty. You’ve never done anything.”

You don’t recognize the Sabe that stands before you now. You knew nothing of the cruel streak that she’s displaying, had no idea that she could behave this way. And what’s worse, she’s absolutely right— you’ve never done anything but sit beside your uncle and look pretty while everyone around you handled the real problems. Past your beauty and your womb, what do you have to offer your fiancé?

“Kylo thinks I’m a good fit,” you insist, but even you don’t believe what you’re saying now. Tears slip down your face as you cast your eyes towards the floor, ashamed of yourself for so many reasons in this moment.

Sabe laughs a cruel laugh right in your face. “Yes, a good fit for taking his cock—”

Lydia strikes Sabe across the cheek, and the sound of it is almost deafening. Helda and Joon visibly flinch, but you’re too shocked to move a muscle. One minute, Lydia was standing off to the side behind you, but now she in front of you, in between you and Sabe.

Lydia must be stronger than any of you knew, because the force of her slap throws Sabe into the countertop at her side. Sabe looks terrified, bracing herself against the marble. She goes to say something, possibly to apologize, but Lydia is in no mood to hear her talk anymore.

“You insolent, disrespectful, disgusting child,” Lydia hisses. Her eyes are bright with rage, and she stalks towards Sabe like an animal going in for the kill. “How dare you speak to your mistress that way? Were you dropped on your head, or are you really that stupid?”

“Lydia, I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sabe,” Lydia spits. “I am so tired of your mouth. You have said quite enough! I cannot believe that you would talk to your friend this way. The Princess has loved you, and cared for you, and put up with every little thing that you do. And how do you repay her? By calling her a useless cocksleeve? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Despite Lydia’s rage, Sabe is still willing to challenge her. “I just can’t believe that she’s going to leave her home planet to marry that man!” She cuts her eyes to you, angry again, but your own rage burns underneath your skin like fire.

“There’s nothing for me here!” you scream. The fury in your voice is powerful enough to wipe the look off of Sabe’s face, and Helda retreats into the corner of the room.

“What do you mean?” Joon ask softly, concern laced into the nervous expression on her face.

“Well!” you exclaim, gesturing all about you. “What is there for me to look forward to? I have no power, no responsibilities of my own. My uncle doesn’t love me, that much is clear now. My cousins have never been nice to me, I don’t see that ever changing. I have no lover and no potential suitors, if you don’t count the Supreme Leader. I… I’m nothing here,” you say pitifully, losing stream now. You choke out a sob, unable to stop yourself, and Lydia lays her hand on your arm.

“I just…” you whisper, chin trembling. “I just want to be somebody, and I can’t do that on this planet.”

“Princess,” Joon breathes, coming to hug you. Lydia rubs your back, and even Helda cautions a comforting comment.

“You’re someone to us already,” she says, and you could burst into tears at the mere sound of her sweet little voice. You look at Sabe, thinking surely that her attitude has changed after your speech. But when you meet her eyes, there is nothing but contempt swimming in her irises.

“You’re just like your uncle,” she declares, and you nearly choke on the air of superiority wafting around her. Joon pulls away from you, surely turning to scold Sabe for what she’s said, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“You black-hearted little twit!” Lydia roars, and she’s on Sabe faster than you or Joon can stop her.

Lydia grabs Sabe by her arms, shaking her violently as she shouts right in her face. “Get out!” she screams, “Get out and don’t come back! You have no idea what the Princess is going through, and what’s worse, you won’t even try to understand! You’ve never known duty, or responsibility, and it shows in everything you’ve just said! If you hate her so much for what she’s decided to do, leave!”

And with that, Lydia lets go of Sabe, pushing her to the ground. Sabe catches herself on her hands, completely stricken as she tries to haul herself off the floor. “You’re not my mother,” she spits, and you cannot understand why she still insists on being so defiant. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Sabe’s up now, standing once more with a rigid posture. “You think you know everything because you’re older and you were married, but you don’t, Lydia. Your husband never loved you because you were a mean, spiteful, barren hag!”

Helda claps her hands over her mouth at that, and it takes everything you have to restrain Lydia. She fights you hard, no doubt bent on tearing out Sabe’s eyes.

(For a brief moment, you almost let her.)

“Sabe, get out!” Joon shouts, giving your vicious “friend” the final push she needs to flee from your chambers.

It takes just seconds for Sabe’s footsteps to fade in the corridor, and when they do, you, Lydia, Joon, and Helda are left to absorb all that’s just happened.

“What is wrong with her?” Joon demands, speaking to no one and everyone all at once. You suck in breath after breath, slowly relaxing your grip on Lydia.

“I have no idea,” you breathe. You feel like you should be crying, given the state of things, but you can’t make yourself sob.

You feel as though you’ve been hit head-on by transport ship. Every muscle in your body aches, and you feel like you could fall down at any minute. Joon must feel the same way, because she leans back against the countertop, rubbing at her temples.

In a moment of horrified clarity, you realize that Helda’s bore witness to every bit of the last twenty minutes.

“Helda,” you say quickly, looking over at her. She’s crowded herself in the corner of the room, as far away as possible from where you and Lydia fought with Sabe. Helda’s white as a sheet and trembling, hands still working nervously in the fabric of her skirt. You move to go to her, to offer her some comfort, but Lydia heads you off.

“Helda,” Lydia says, mimicking you. She walks to the child, arms outstretched, and the look of remorse of Lydia’s face is too apparent to be disingenuous. “Helda, I am so sorry I spoke that way in front of you.”

Lydia clutches Helda against her chest, and Helda lets her, not really returning the hug. “That was awful,” the child whispers, tears slipping down her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, to Helda and to everyone else. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just talked about my engagement ring and left the rest of it alone.”

Joon shakes her head quickly, scoffing. “No,” she tells you, “you should be able to talk about whatever the fuck you want. Sabe should remember her place and try to have a little empathy for other people.”

“Precisely,” Lydia says, wiping at Helda’s face with a washcloth. Helda isn’t exactly perky, but her eyes have lost their terrified stare. “Sabe should support you and understand that not all of us get to galivant about without consequences or obligations.”

“I really could have broken the engagement off,” you say, letting Joon guide you to your vanity. She begins combing your hair, and Helda and Lydia come to gather around you. “But I just… I didn’t want to. I thought I did, but then the Supreme Leader told me that he wanted my help, and it made me… excited to get married. Maybe I am like my uncle…”

Joon scoffs, batting you lightly with the comb in her hand. “Don’t even say that,” she scolds, “you’re nothing like that man. All he wants it power and money. All you want is an ounce of respect and a fulfilling life.”

Joon moves aside at Lydia’s silent prompting, making quick work of braiding your hair.

“I want to be cared for, too,” you admit quietly, almost with shame.

“Well, who doesn’t?” Lydia asks simply. “You’re a kind, sweet girl, and you deserve to be treated as such.

“That’s Sabe’s problem.”

You’re surprised to hear Helda saying that, but yourself and the others turn to her nonetheless.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks.

“Well,” says Helda, “everyone adores Sabe. All of the men and women at court think she’s pretty, and her parents are nice to her. Sabe’s never been disliked in her life, and it’s gotten to her head.”

It’s flooring to hear Helda talk with such mature clarity, and you can’t help but give yourself a jab for underestimating her. All this time, you and the others have thought of Helda as an inexperienced child, but it’s clear that she understands more than any of you thought.

“Let her go,” Lydia declares, tying off your hair as she casts an impressed look Helda’s way. “You have bigger things to worry about.”

[imma-fan]

The Man In The Trees // GOT7 Jaebum

+ Jaebum being evil/low key Demon AU; scary I guess; horror; messed up stuff +

+ Part 2 +

Tears and sweat ran down my face as I was tied and gagged with some kind of towel, not able to scream nor move from the harsh ground I was laid out on. If I hadn’t known any better I’d think i would be dreaming this whole thing, that the scare from earlier is just manifesting in my brain unconsciously. But, no, I certainly am surrounded by towering trees and thick foliage. It was difficult to see anything outside, the moonlight completely hidden in this god awful place. Tears continued to fall as I started to understand that I am doomed from getting any help out of here, my wrists and ankles scrapping against harsh rope and any noise I made muffled by whatever was in my mouth.

A chuckle made my eyes go wide. He’s here. I whimpered as a fire lit up, causing me to be able to see some of the surroundings. But, as soon as I could see I squeezed my eyes shut at the feeling of hands on me, I only cried harder as I was put in a sitting position. What is he going to do to me? Is he going to kill me? “And here I thought you’d want a bit of light...” He chuckled, undoing whatever was keeping me from screaming. I took deep breathes inbetween sobs, my body heavy with anxiety. Once I got the courage to open my eyes I searched for him, which didn’t take long since he was stood in front of me. “Hello.” He smiled eerily at me. His hair was long, he was a bit thin, his canines awfully sharp, and he looked young.

“P-please...I won’t tell anyone! Let me go and I won’t say a word! I swear!” I begged desperately to whoever had gotten me here. “P-lease! I won’t say anything...” my voice got weaker as I thought of every awful thing he could do to me out here while we were alone.

“Shut up!” He ran a hand through his black hair as I flinched at his shouting. “They don’t like screaming.” He stated, I looked every which way I could with my eyes. There’s more? I began breathing heavier as I scooted uncomfortably on the dirt, I haven’t heard anything else how the hell could anyone else be in this area?

“W-who?” I couldn’t help but ask quietly, whoever it was I didn’t want to anger.

“The voices.” He smirked almost playfully and I couldn’t help breathe a sigh of relief at least I’m only dealing with one psycho instead of multiple. “I’m joking. The trees. The trees don’t like the yelling, it upsets them.” If I was in any other situation and someone had said anything like that to me I would have rolled my eyes, but he’s obviously sick in the head. “The trees seem to like you.” He hummed, looking up and around and I couldn’t help but shiver at the cold chill up my spine.

“I want to go home. Let me go home you fucking lunatic!” I screamed after a few moments of silence. Isn’t he supposed to torturing me? Killing me? Sending out a note for ransom money? My chest heaved up and down in stress, anxiety and frustration. I can’t stand it, it’s cold, I’m dirty, and I’m terrified. I watched as the man kneeled in front of me and showed a bit of his teeth at me, I looked him in the eyes this time.

“Oh, sweetheart you’re all mine now.” His eyes...changed color? No. I’m going crazy. He laughed lightly at the obvious fear on my face. “See, I don’t choose who I get paired with. The trees do that. And for some sick reason they paired me with some girl who has never heard of the phrase “curiousity killed the cat”.” He huffed and rolled his eyes as he stood up. I’m so confused and so tired and I just want to go home. “Now, listen to me very carefully. I am going to untie you. You will not run. You will not even try to run. Because if you do I will not be able to store myself.” He spoke seriously as he looked practically into my soul. He really is out of touch with reality, I supposed living on train tracks buried under trees would do that to someone. I nodded slowly at his rules. He slowly started to untie me, I could feel the burning ease up on my ankles and then my wrists. I looked at them and gulped, I’d definitely have marks left there.

“I suppose since we’ll be spending a lot of time together I should give you a proper introduction.” I looked up at him, hugging my knees to my chest, my chin on my knees. “I’m Im Jaebum. You will refer to me as JB.” I nodded slowly, I need to get out of here. “Although I already know who you are...it’s polite for you to reciprocate.” Has he been watching me?

“I-I’m (y/n).” I mumbled with a soft nod and breathed out gently. I look down at my wrists and hands and body, I’m distgusting and gross. I’m covered in dirt, and sweat, and who knows if there’s animals out here. “Well, can you tell me why I have to stick with you at least?” I murmured gently, I just need to know why he wants me here other than that the trees said so. He sighed out and walked back in forth in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his baggy cargo pants. I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat but my mouth proved to be too dry for that.

“Let’s just say I’ve been summoned to keep an eye,” his eyes did that color change thing again. “,on you, alright?” I breathed out, this conversation is getting nowhere. “But, you’ll be able to go back out into your family. You just have to make a tiny deal with me.” He nodded and I looked at him hopeful.

“What? What do I have to do?” I really hope it’s something doable.

“You see, (y/n). I cannot leave this area unless I’m given permission.” He sighed exaggeratingly. “So, how about I get to be the devil on your shoulder. Then both you and I get to leave this shrub.” He nodded, shrugging slightly as he awaited for me to speak.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask. “You want to follow me around?” I ask again, this man needs to be more upfront I’m starting to get lost inside my own head.

“Yeah, obviously there’s a catch. Well, two really.” H kneeled back down in front of me. “See, I’ll always be around but no one else gets to see me, you won’t either unless we’re in this dump. Also, if you don’t excel my little deal then, well, get comfortable sleeping on dirt.” His mischievous grin faded as he spoke his last sentence. This man is really insane. How do I even agree to this? Maybe, if I say yes he’ll just walk beside me the entire time and I’ll be able to easily get him in trouble. Is he that stupid? Hopefully.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it.” I nod confidently hoping he’s easy to fool.

“Okay, well, let’s just get the knot tied.” He nodded with a smile before getting on both of his knees in front of me. Oh no. “Give me your hands.” Hesitantly I held my hands out for him and he roughly took them. “Okay, now just close your eyes.” Jesus, if he doesn’t hurry up. I did as I was told though. I closed my eyes tight, worried he may do something as I was in a vulnerable state. After a few seconds I felt an indescribable chest pain and couldn’t help the cries of pain that came from my mouth as it felt like it would never end. It was like a heart attack feeling but I’m sure a thousand times worse. I felt my headache as if my brain was about to pop from my skull.

Then. It was done.

I heaved in order to get some air back into my lungs as I got on all fours on the ground. I looked up at JB with wide eyes once I came back a bit. “You thought I was lying, huh?” He smirked evilly at me. After a few more minutes of me regaining my strength I was slowly able to get up. “Go ahead, (Y/n). Test it out.” He gestured to where the exit was. I looked at him and then to where the tracks would lead me out. I nodded and began to walk, him following closely.

I sank to the floor in disbelief as I took a few steps out from the tunnel of trees and found that he was no longer beside me. “Now you’re stuck with me.” Tears began falling again as I heard his voice as if he was beside me.

“No. No. No! This is just a dream! A sick nightmare!” I screamed, my hands going to my head as I sobbed again. I’m surprised I haven’t run out of tears today.

“This is going to be so much fun.” I winced at the sound of his voice.

M.List

[shirorozutriea]

Experienced a Loss, but dared to Confront it

I don't know how would you guys react to a certain OOC here. I hope you don't mind it. This is an AU, so yes, there's bound to be OOCs, I hope you would still like it nonetheless. Day 5: Loss

Months have passed since the beginning of our beloved couple's relationship bloom. The two will admit that that day was the best thing that happened in their life. And so far so good, everything is all happy and fine. No drama, no angsty walkthroughs, no fights except for the countless of debates of who's the most wonderful girlfriend.

 “O Romeo, Romeo, where art thou, Romeo—again why?” Asked Yang looking Weiss.

 “Why what?” Said Weiss tapping at her laptop.

 “Why Romeo and Juliet?” Asked Yang. “I get that its classical and it's made by William Shakespeare.”

 “I just happen to relate with the main heroine.” Shrugged Weiss.

 Blake picked up the book and scanned it. “Juliet Capulet.”

 Weiss nodded without looking away from her laptop. “Yes. Lady Capulet.”

 Blake gave her a look.

 “But why? Juliet is like, blinded? Or something like that.” Said Yang, looking incredulous.

 “Blinded?” Asked Weiss and Blake, blinking at her.

 “Yeah. Blinded by love. Y’know, falling for Romeo at first sight and then agreed to marry the guy despite the short time they knew each other. Like, that's ridiculous. Seriously.” Frowned Yang.

 Weiss blinked.

 “I didn't know you read Romeo and Juliet?” Asked Blake, looking flabbergasted.

 Yang pouted. “Hey! I can read classical too ya know.”

 “Yes, yes. Just surprised.” Chuckled Weiss. Yang continued to pout, which earned a giggle from the two.

 “Where's Ruby anyways?” Asked Yang, looking around for her wonderful gay sister.

 “Bought some cookies.” Replied Weiss.

 Yang laughed. “Ruby and her cookies.”

 “Yes. Just a little bit and I swear she's going to marry those cookies.” Scowled Weiss.

 Yang laughed while Blake snickered.

 “Are you serious? You're jealous on a peace of flour?” Laughed Yang.

 “Aah, young love.” Teased Blake.

 Weiss glared at the two. She then looked at her laptop and frowned.

 “What's with that frown, Weiss?” Chuckled Yang. “You look like you're on the verge of killing someone.”

 Weiss sighed. “As a matter of fact, as much as I want to, I can't. I don't want to be classified as a murderer.”

 “Who is it, Weiss?” Asked Blake, concern etching from her voice.

 “You know. The usual. Father and his persuasive arguments.” Said Weiss. “And—oh no…”

 Weiss face etched into worry and downward horrified. She can feel the cold sweat in every part of her skin, and her eyes began to water. The couple shared a look, before looking at their friend in worry.

 “Weiss.. tell us what's wrong..” Pleaded Yang.

 “He—he knows…” Said Weiss, her breath hitched in horror.

 “He knows what, Weiss?” Frowned Blake as she look at her friend whose in any moment might palpitate.

 “Ruby.. a-and I…” The two gasped.

 “Crap..” Cursed Yang. Blake looked at Weiss and held her hand.

 “Whatever happens, we're here for you, okay?” Said Blake, her ear twitching.

 “Ye-yes.. and he wanted… to-to meet her.” Weiss looked at her friends with a pleading look. “I-I don't know what to do. What if.. what if he hurt her? Oh god..”

 Blake hugged her and shush her, then brushed her hand in her hair in comfort. Yang patted Weiss’s head.

 “Don't worry. We'll be here for you. If you need to fly to Atlas with Ruby, we'll be there. Maybe not directly on the mansion you're going, but nearby, okay?” Assured Yang as she also hug Weiss.

 “Weiss?!”

 They heard Ruby shout from the door as she made her way to her crying and terrified girlfriend.

 Ruby looked at her and kissed her in her forehead and hugged her, whispering to her to help her calm down.

 “Weiss, what happened?” She asked as she wiped her tears.

 “Father.. wants to meet you…” Stuttered Weiss, taking a deep breath. Ruby's face scrunched up in anger as she brushed her hand on her hair.

 “I'll be there to face him.” Said Ruby, lightly growling. Weiss shook her head.

 “I don't want you to get hurt…” She muttered. Ruby raised a brow at this.

 “And you won't? Weiss, I love you, and I swear that I will be right beside you with every step you take.” Declared Ruby as she cupped her lover’s face.

 “Well, looks like we're on board on raiding a Schnee douche.” Grinned Yang, earning a jab from Blake.

 Ruby kissed Weiss’s forehead. “I love you and I will always be here for you.”

 And almost instantly, Weiss relaxed.

***

They were already on air towards Atlas. The skies are bright blue, with clouds ever so gently pass by. The flight towards Atlas was barely bearable, with Weiss constantly fidgeting on her sit with Ruby beside her. Ruby saw how her girlfriend tap her fingers to her knee, which is often displayed when she's anxious or nervous.

 “Weiss, it’s all going to be alright, okay?” Reassured Ruby, holding the latter’s hand entwining them. Weiss only nodded in response and rest her head to her lover's shoulder.

 Ruby brushed the white locks from Weiss’s face. Her eyes are closed and there are visible dark circles under her eyes due to a few sleepless nights before the initial flight to Atlas. Ruby couldn’t help but to worry, not for her sake when she meet the father, but for Weiss’s sake when they meet the father. To Weiss, her father was nothing but a tyrant person and an unloving father. She may had been given her necessities and others, but all with a price. From what she remembered, it was either recitals just to show face or meet the suitors.

 All passengers, please remain sitting for the duration of the flight. The plane will be landing in thirty minutes. Thank you.

 “Hey Rubes, wanna see if I can jump while the plane is landing?” Asked Yang from her right.

 Blake elbowed her girlfriend. “Yang, no.”

 Yang pouted and slouched on the chair, while Ruby giggled at the sight.

 “So, how is Ice Queen?” Asked Yang.

 Ruby's eyes drooped at the question. “Still restless. She's very anxious right now.”

 Yang frowned. “Whatever this bastard did to her, did give her a pretty bad reminder.”

 “And that bastard you're talking about is her father.” Said Blake. Yang face contorted into anger.

 “I still don’t get how a father could treat his child like that.” Grumbled Yang.

 “There’s no perfect fathers. But Jacques is beyond imperfect.” Said Blake, sighing.

 Ruby is very thankful to have a family like them. Aside from her dad, Yang and Blake had been the greatest family she ever had.

 Ruby shook Weiss to wake her up. “Weiss, we're nearly landing.”

 Weiss groaned and her eyes fluttered, showing those beautiful blue pools. Ruby grinned and kissed her forehead.

 “We're here?” Asked Weiss, groggy.

 “I think so.” Said Ruby.

 As if on cue, the speaker blasted off sentences. Along the lines of it are get ready to go down and get your things.

 The four grabbed there bags and head out to the exit, heading outside the airport only to be greeted by cold air.

 “Really? Is winter already the season here?” Asked Yang, rubbing her palms.

 “This is normal in Atlas.” Said Weiss, as if the cold never bothered her in anyway(ELSA!).

 “What are you? Elsa?” Said Yang.

 “I didn’t get the title of Ice Queen for no reason, right Yang?” Smirked Weiss. Yang gasped.

 “She accepted it!” Guffawed Yang.

 Weiss shook her head while smiling. “Come on. Father needs to see us.”

 Ruby looked at Weiss and hold her hand. Weiss jumped in surprise and looked at her, then she smiled at her and hold hers as well.

 “Well then, and off we go.” Said Ruby.

***

“What a surprise for you to bring the whole… uninvited visitors..” Said Jacques, his voice laced with sarcasm. Weiss didn’t said a thing and just held a steely gaze.

 “Now, I know you know why I called you and your undesirable choice of a suitor. I’m very disappointed to you, Weiss.” He said as he stared at the two.

 Ruby glared at him and her fist curled in anger.

 “Look how she behave. Glaring at the host of the house. Such dreadful manners.” Spat Jacques.

 Weiss snapped.

 “I can stand with you spouting nonsense at me. And the occasional stomp to my ego and pride, as well as my feelings. But, I cannot let you insulting my girlfriend and my friends slide.” Growled Weiss.

 Jacques scoffed. “Is this the result of you joining in the wrong sorts? How inadequate. Are you even worthy of a Schnee?”

 “The only not worthy of the Schnee name is you!” Snarled Ruby. Weiss looked at her in surprise, but regained her composure and didn’t oppose on her outburst.

 Jacques glowered at her. “What did you say, brat?! I’ll have you know, I made the Schnee name more well-known and more powerful. I made it grow. I shaped it to what it deserves to be.”

 “Grow? All I see is your egotistical sorry ass grow. You changed the Schnee name from what it supposed to be. And I am certain that grandfather is disappointed to you.” Spat Weiss.

 “How dare you insult me at my own house?! You ungrateful little twat!” Bellowed Jacques. He stood up from his chair and prepared to slap Weiss, but Ruby took a hold on his hand.

 “Dare? Yes, I dare. Because what you are doing as of now is unworthy of the Schnee name. You have caused millions of people out there, pain and suffering. You belittle everyone you deemed unworthy of your praise. You made countless mistakes, and have yourself involved with countless of crimes. And you ask how dare I insult you in your own house? May I remind you that this house doesn’t belong to you, but belongs to my grandfather who spent his life shaping up the good name that is a Schnee. But what did you do? You blemished the Schnee name, and polluted it. I should be asking you that question. How dare you?”

 Weiss growled at the man and glared at him. Her hands balled into a fist, her palms turning white.

 “And on top of that, you neglected your daughters and son. Well, you may have pamper Whitley because he’s a boy and would be the sole heir of yours, a carbon copy if I do say honestly. But, the question is.. is that how should a father act?”

 Weiss voice quiver and soften. Her eyes glisten and her shoulders droop. She gripped the hem of her blouse and quiver in her spot.

 “Do you even know how we—I feel? I'm like a piece of trash thrown into a pit because I don’t serve anymore purpose to you. I’m like some paper, only to be crumpled because you made a mistake and that mistake is me.”

 Weiss inhaled and sighed. Her eyes fluttered close. Her mind reeling. She wanted to tell him how she feel, what she had always felt. And now is the time.

 “You know, as a child, I've always admire you. How well you seem to cooperate with others or how well you negotiate with them. I've admired you from afar. And as a child, a father with a heart of gold is an admirable one. Also, you had this streaking determination to do what's best for everything and everyone, including us.”

 Weiss opened her eyes and looked at Jacques. His gaze was hard yet soft. Like there was a mist hidden in his eyes that are slowly fading away. She rubbed her arm and her gaze diverted from him.

 “You were a father figure… a great.. Dad. But you changed. The moment that incident happened, you changed. The day where mother had left you, you changed. And my opinion, adoration and admiration, slowly withered away. You became harsh, strict, and arrogant. You were not the same person I used to admire.”

 Weiss exhaled and swallowed the lump on her throat. There was a long pause before she continued.

 “You were lost. You lost yourself in the heap of melancholy and confusion. You lost your light… your warmth.. and you lost your love. And now, I know why you resent me and Winter. We look like mother, and I am an exact spitting image of her, both personality-wise and physical-wise.”

 Weiss was tightlipped and her eyes stared to water.

 “I lost my Mom… now I’m losing my Dad.. just exactly how fast she left us.”

 Weiss suppressed a sniffle and walked away, leaving a gaping Jacques Schnee. Blake and Yang quickly followed to comfort Weiss, leaving Ruby looking at him with a melancholy look in her face. Jacques sank in his chair and put a hand on his eyes while deeply sighing. His fingers tapped at his desk and Ruby saw familiarity at the motion.

 “She acts like you.” She spoke. The man looked at her in confusion. Ruby sat on a nearby chair and smiled sadly.

 “Deep down, she still admires you. She kind of acts like you. With the way you fidget with your hands just as the same as Weiss.” Smiled Ruby. Ruby bit her lip and looked at him. “I’m sorry for saying you are unworthy of the Schnee name, despite not knowing you in any degree.”

 Jacques slowly sighed. “You were.. right for that matter. Weiss is right. My daughter is right.”

 Jacques looked at Ruby and bowed. “I, too, apologize, for insulting you, your friends and your relationship with Weiss. I knew nothing about you to spout some.. atrocities.”

 Ruby blinked at the man. She then smiled understandingly. Jacques looked Ruby intently and spoke.

 “Have I been a bad father?” Asked Jacques, even though he knows the answer he still wanted to hear it.

 “In some degree, yes, you have been.” Ruby answered. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning on the chair tilting her head up before opening her eyes. “But just like Weiss said, you are lost.”

 “Lost…” Mumbled Jacques. He interlocked his hands and rest his elbows on the desk, his hands covering his mouth. “I may… perhaps been lost..”

 “I know how you feel, Mr. Schnee.” Said Ruby, smiling sadly. Jacques looked at Ruby. Ruby continued to look at the black ceiling.

 “I was once.. lost. I lost and drowned myself in sadness and loneliness. It may have been in a different circumstances, but you and I were the same once.”

 Ruby sighed and draped an arm on her eyes covering them. Jacques listen intently and had gain a different light towards her.

 “True, you may have been a bad father to them… but that could change. It can change. You still have time to correct your mistakes. And that's all that matter. For you to make things straight once again.”

 Ruby sat up straight and smiled at the man. His eyes widen, tears brimming in his eyes.

 “I.. I'm sorry…” Apologized Jacques, his eyes clenched shut.

 “Don’t say sorry to me. Say sorry to your family.” Grinned Ruby. Jacques nodded and smiled at her. His eyes no longer hard and steely, instead it was warm and soft.

 “Would you mind listening to me?”

 Ruby nodded.

 “Willow.. their mother… left. And of course, as a person who loved, it hurts. I couldn’t bear the fact that she would leave us—me. But she did anyways. And after that, I drowned myself to work and neglected my children. I support them, financially, but not as father would do, but as a business man who didn't care for anyone. Self-centered, if you may.”

 Jacques sighed and tapped his finger in the desk.

 “I am a bad father. I didn’t support them as a father would do. All they had left was me, and yet, I didn’t do my responsibility. Instead, I worked and worked, and drowned myself to my own thoughts, ignoring everything and everyone.”

 Jacques chuckled sarcastically. “Pathetic, am I right?”

 Jacques sniffled and gulped. “But… if I were to be given a chance to change.. I will. I have been lost for so long..”

 Jacques looked at Ruby and smiled genuinely. “I think it’s time for me to find myself.”

***

“Weiss, are you alright?” Asked Yang.

 There they stood in the middle of the estate in the fountain. Weiss stood in front of the fountain with her head down. Yang and Blake behind her, trying to comfort her.

 “I missed my Mom. I missed Winter. Heck, as annoying as my brother is sometimes, I missed him too. And I also missed my Dad.” Weiss sighed and looked up. She covered her eyes from the sunlight, before the clouds moved and covered the sun.

 “I wish.. everything was the same as back then… but no matter how many times I wished for that to happen… the results are always the same… nothing..”

 Yang looked at Blake and stepped forward to Weiss and grabbed her arm pulling her to her chest, hugging her.

 “It's alright, Weiss. Everything is going to be alright. Let it all out.” Yang coped while running her hand on the latter’s head.

 Weiss gripped the back of Yang’s clothes and wailed. Yang held herself back from crying. She doesn’t want Weiss to feel anymore bad by adding to the fuel. Meanwhile, Blake called Winter and informed her about the talk with Jacques and asked her to take care of her sister while she go back to the estate. Blake also told her to call Whitley and come with her, the latter hesitated but agreed and ended the call.

 Weiss just sobbed and cried her pain and sorrows. Blake walked towards the two and hugged them both. It was jarring to see her like this, the Weiss who is proud and confident. Crying, sobbing… broken.. it was shocking, but she understood how she felt. If she was in her shoes, she would act the same, she would feel the same.

 Minutes later, Winter arrived with Whitley behind her. She looked at how miserable Weiss looked right now. She felt her insides churn at how her beloved sister looks right now. Meanwhile, Whitley was shocked. She may have seen her sister cry, but not like this. He felt a stinging feeling inside him after looking at her sister.

 “Winter… Whitley..?” Weiss pondered. “How? Why?”

 “Blake called and informed me of the circumstances. I brought Whitley along with me.” Said Winter. “What did he do?”

 “Nothing extreme… I just.. snapped at him and told him how I felt..” Mumbled Weiss.

 Winter looked down and sighed. “I wish I had the courage as you do, Weiss.”

 “Is that father with Ms. Rose?” Asked Whitley.

 The group perked at the question and looked behind. They looked at Jacques and Ruby. Jacques looked nervous, while Ruby is calmly smiling.

 “I guess the whole family is here.” Chuckled Ruby. She looked at the man and nodded.

 Jacques nodded and steeled himself. “I.. I am sorry for everything.. I don’t expect for you to forgive that easy.. but I want to do things right…”

 Jacques looked at Weiss. “I know I can’t bring back those old days, but I would at least make those old days as possible as I can. Your mother left.. I don’t want you to lose me once again…”

 Weiss had her eyes wide. She brought her hand to her mouth, tears running down on her cheeks. Winter was shocked, as well as Whitley. Weiss ran towards her father and hugged him tightly and sobbed in his arms. Jacques smiled and run his hands to be hair and brought his free hand to ask the other two to join, and they immediately joined.

 And that’s how everything had ended.

***

“I am so sorry to cut this meeting short, but I need to make amends.” Said Jacques. “I need to start over again.”

 Weiss smiled and nodded. Winter raised a hand.

 “Would you like me to give you assistance.. Dad?” Smiled Winter. Jacques looked at her wide eyed, but smiled and nodded.

 “Yes, please.” He said. He ran a hand on his hair and tapped his fingers on the desk. “I hope I'll get to meet you again, Ms. Rose.”

 Ruby laughed and shook her head. “Please call me Ruby. We’re family here.”

 Jacques smiled and pondered. “Family, huh? Very well, Ruby. You may call me..”

 Jacques thought for a minute. Then he looked at Weiss and Ruby, then back at Weiss. His eyes glinted mischievously. Weiss blinked at the mischievous look of her father and suddenly got nervous. Jacques smiled teasingly and spoke.

 “You're my future daughter-in-law, might as well let you call father or dad. And, don’t be formal around me.” Shrugged Jacques. Ruby looked at him bewildered, as well as the rest.

 Ruby then grinned and looked at the blushing Weiss. “You got it, Dad.”

 Weiss blushed brightly and Ruby laughed.

 A few months later…

 “Winter, do we have anything in schedule next week?” Asked Jacques as he viewed every papers in front of him.

 Winter browse to her tablet and looked at the calendar. “Nothing of some sorts, Dad.”

 Jacques hummed and thought for a minute. “Call Ruby.”

 Winter blinked and grabbed the phone from his desk and called Ruby putting it in speaker.

 “Yello? Is there something wrong, Dad?”

 “Nothing. Is Weiss there?” He asked.

 “Nope. She's with Blake right now. Why?”

 “That's good.” Coughed Jacques. “Are you and your family free next week?”

 “Next week? Hmm.. yeah. Pops is on break and our schedules are fine.”

 “Very well. Please do pack necessities. We're going to a resort.” Smiled Jacques.

 “Resort?! Whoah. Sure thing, Dad! Shall I tell them?”

 “Please do, Ruby.” He chuckled at his future daughter-in-law’s enthusiasm.

 “Okay. See ya soon, Dad.”

 “You too, Ruby.” Said Jacques and ended the call.

 “Resort, huh?” Smiled Winter. “I’ll inform Whitley.”

 Jacques chuckled and nodded. “Go ahead, Winter.”

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (Intro)

A/N Ok so, this idea has popped into my head and it’s going to be a multi-part fic. Basically a rewrite of from the second part of Season 3 through the start of season 6. 

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective 

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word Count: 2311

Warnings: For this one, there are none that I can think of. Though, if you are looking for Stiles immediately then he is not here.  This is more laying the groundwork i’d say. 

MASTERLIST || NEXT>>

The rain was pouring when you finally pulled up to the now run down Hale House. Kicking down the stand you got off your bike and pulled off your helmet. Looking at the structure you couldn’t help but wonder if coming here was a mistake. But, this was your family - regardless of whatever issues they had.

Walking up to the front door, you noticed  the door swing open. “You know, you or your father could have called to say you’d be dropping by… We’ve been kind of - busy as of late.”

“Well maybe if you guys hadn’t revived the Nemeton, you wouldn’t have practically every supernatural creature on the west coast flooding into your home,” you chuckled as you closed the door behind you and took a look around, trying to find the owner of the voice. It takes a second but you find him sitting in what was once the sitting room that Talia would welcome people in.

“Peter.”

“Natasha - it’s been a long time since the Ragnulf’s have been in Beacon Hills. What brings you by? And without your father at that.” He asks as he moves to sit on the couch, his arms outstretched on the back of the seat as if he has no cares in the world.

You lean against the frame to the room, surprised by how sturdy it actually is for a moment. “Wolves are quite territorial, surely you know that,” you tease him lightly. “We’ve stayed away for the same reason the Hales stayed out of our lands - this isn’t our home. Thankfully, we’ve had no reason to leave.” You go silent, as though you are contemplating not answering his question but you know it’s better if you do. Still, you want to avoid it for a little bit longer. So, instead, you ask your cousin “Where’s Derek?”

“Here” your other cousin answers and you smile at him briefly, though the smile does not reach your eyes. He comes and pulls you into a hug before leaning back and staring at your face. No doubt, both of them can smell your distress.

Derek searched your face, a hand coming to cup your cheek and you looked away, turning your face into his hand.  Closing your eyes you took a deep breath before finally saying the words “The Pull’s started..” your voice is so low the only way they’re able to hear you is their supernatural ability and your voice cracks. “This is the first place I’ve been to and there’s no pain.”

Peter leans forward on the couch, his forearms on his knees, a look of incredulousness on his face. He turns his face to you and then looks at Derek who has a look of shock on his face. Derek has stepped back and you’re standing there, tired.

“You sound terrified. You know - this isn’t a bad thing. Most people would kill to have this chance. Supernatural or normal -”

“Then they can have it!” you turn to yell at Peter.  Seeing a piece of lumber that’s fallen on the table next to you, you grab it and throw it towards him. He, of course, catches it in mid air. Dropping it, he stands up and stalks towards you, Derek is now at your side and Peter is annoyed you’ve tried to hurt him.

Without realizing it, your eyes have flashed and a growl is escaping your lips. You’re not entire sure why, but Peter seems to have less control than normal as he’s begun growling at you as well. The moment is tense but Peter sees something that catches him off guard and is able to give him some sort of control. He stops growling at you and merely stands there, silent and slows his own breathing down. Your attention is focused on him but your control is lacking so you continue to grow at him. You’re eyes are bright and your claws extended as you fight the urge to lunge at him. Peter’s worked with a struggling pup before - he’s worked with you before.

“What are the three triads?”

You only growl at him.

“What are the three triads?!” he repeats more forcefully this time.

You remain silent.

It’s Derek that speaks first, “The heart, The mind…”

“The instinct,” you finish before  you repeat it with Derek. “The Heart, the Mind, the Instinct… The Heart, the Mind, the Instinct…” You repeat this a few more times, slowly, with deep breaths littering the sentences. You’re eventually able to return to normal, claws retracted, canines  shrunk, and eyes returned to their normal color. Your chest was heaving but slowly returned to normal.

“They’re blue...”

You cross the room and fall onto the couch. Both of the males are silent, waiting to hear more about why they’re blue. You run your hand through your hair, “And sometimes they’re purple…”

Derek and Peter look at each other before their eyes flick back to you. Derek is the first one to ask, “How?”

“No idea. Aaric thinks it’s because it’s presented so early. Dad thinks that it means there’s going to be something completely different about how this bond will play out. Personally - I’m hoping it means there’s a way to break it.

Of course, there’s no way to control the eye color. Blue shows up the most often so everyone assumes I’ve killed someone innocent.” You close your eyes and sigh leaning back onto the couch itself. You didn't want this, you wanted to be able to choose. There’s things about these soulmates that people don’t understand and you can’t even begin to explain it.

“So the Pulls brought you here to Beacon Hills - how many other places have you tried?”

“Alaska, Canada, New York, Illinois, D.C., London, Singapore, Spain, Turkey …” You continue to list the places you’d traveled to in the last year. You didn’t stay anywhere very long so it wasn’t like you had a whole lot of stories to tell. “The pain was constantly there. After Dad heard about the Nemeton, he suggested coming here. He’s not happy you guys didn’t call about it but he gets it… The closer i got, the more dull the pain got. It’s still there.. Will be until the bonds cemented but it’s not unmanageable.”

“And it’s different from what the rest of the pack has experienced?”

“Yupp”

“Is that why you don’t want this?”

“Is it so wrong to want to be able to choose?”

“Wait a second.. Little Wolf, I thought your families little “curse” doesn’t manifest until after your 21st birthday?”

“Normally, but whatever it is that makes this different, means it’s starting now.”

Peter sits next to you while muttering under his breath. Something a lot like “Well isn’t this lovely.” Derek sits on the other side and you lean your head onto his shoulder. “Can I stay for a little while? I don’t know who it is, and the way this seems so different, I’m not sure that the same rules are going to apply. The only thing I know is that right now, Beacon Hills is the one place where I am not fighting agony.”

“You can stay in the loft, with me.” Derek answers and you nod your head against his shoulder. A small smile that he can’t see coming to the corners of your lips. You hadn’t expected them to actually accept.

It took a couple days but everything got set up. You were enrolled at Beacon Hills High School now. You’re father had called and made some story up that they accepted and Derek and Peter were now viewed as your legal guardians as far as the school was concerned. A part of you wants to go home. The pain no longer scares you, you’re a Ragnulf, you know that pain is part of life. Pain is part of the Pull itself. It’s unfortunately, the only pain you cannot share. The thing that scares you is what happened to your father's sister, Clara. You’re not sure that you can bear that kind of luck. Only a few people know that it’s even possible. Few know about the Pull itself and even less know about what any of it entails. The Hale family only knows because your great-grandfather had been pulled to one of their great-aunts

You didn’t know but Derek had some idea. He had overheard Talia and your dad talking and had pieced together what it was. Like you, he had no idea who you were being pulled to but he did know that he was going to do what he could to ensure that you didn’t meet the same fate as Clara. So, he reached out to one of Scott's pack members and told them a little bit about you. This person was going to be asked to be your friend. He was told that he could make his own choice, but he felt indebted to Derek to some degree, so he agreed to be your friend and to protect you.

A week before you’re actually supposed to start classes at the high school, Derek knocks on your door. “Tasha? Come downstairs, there’s someone  want you to meet.” It doesn’t take you long before you’re downstairs.

“Who?”

“Someone who’s going to be a friend. Someone who’s going to help.”

You look at your cousin as if he’s lost some of his marbles but you figure that after the fire he’s entitled to his worries, so you just nod your head. There’s a knock at the door and Derek goes to slide them open. Standing there, is a boy that’s taller than Derek. He has curly brown hair that’s not too long and blue eyes that remind you of an ocean, there’s a boyish charm to him.

“Natasha, I want you to meet Isaac. Isaac, this is my cousin Natasha”

“Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle as you head over to the couch. The room is open so you’re not worried that he can’t see you.

“I’ll let the two of you get acquainted. Isaac, look after her.” Derek warns seriously. You figure that this is Derek being overprotective and you watch the boy, Isaac, visibly pale,

Chuckling, you cross to the couch and sink down onto it. Pulling your legs up, you tell Isaac “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself, how about you tell me about this school I’ll be going to?”

Isaac sits on the other end of the couch and the two of you spend the next couple of hours talking. It’s almost dawn by the end of it and you’re shocked- “How is this school even open? There’s so many different violations of just normal “how to treat kids” plus the amount of murders… not to mention the amount of money it’s got to have taken for repairs?”

“Yea, well.. Thankfully we’re still there. Probably because the only other schools in the area are private schools and so all the public funding goes into this school.”

“Well this will be fun. Ok, so ignoring the fact that there's this weird school you’re a part of Scott McCalls pack… Scott is the only known TRUE Alpha that currently exists. He’s the captain of the lacrosse team and best friends with Stiles? Stiles is human but part of the pack What doe he do?”

“Well- he’s kind of like… the jack of all trades kind of thing. Guys a total spazz and talks too much for his own good but he’s always there for Scott so you can’t be too mad at him.”

“Ok… Stiles is a human addition to the pack that exists because of the friendship with Scott..” You’re not sure you actually understand the why and you’re questioning every aspect of it but you know that there’s more to it that you don’t understand and you’re not going to try to. “Then there’s Lydia who’s a Banshee. Congrats by the way, they’re super useful to have around.  There’s you- who you seem to have a lot of things you don’t feel comfortable sharing. And then - there’s Alisson.. Argent? You mean the Argents that have been hunting down supernatural creatures for centuries? But she had a thing with Scott and she’s not taking over Gerard's or her mother's place.” Isaac gives you a look like he’s surprised you know about Gerard, he hadn’t mentioned it. Before he can open his mouth to ask though, you beat him “The supernatural community isn’t small but we keep track of the hunters best as we can. ‘Know thy enemy’ kind of thing. Anyways, that’s not important. So I’m confused, I get that Scott managed to dismantle the Alpha pack- but he left Deucalion alive? The only ones left are the twins.. Are they part of Scott's pack?”

“God no.. I don’t trust them and neither does Scott.”

“Smart move.”  

You get up from the couch, stretching your arms and legs out after the stiffness that’s settled in. You look over to Isaac and you can’t help but wonder if the Pull is leading you to him. You’re sure that you’ll ask that of every supernatural creature you meet until you actually know but there’s no reason to be a creep about it.

Isaac follows your movements before he seems to recognize that it’s already dawn. “I- uh…  I gotta get going.” he says. You nod your head and the two of you say your goodbyes. He goes to hug you and you step back, you may have spent hours talking but you don’t know him. He’s not pack or family. He seems surprised but quickly recovers before leaving.

So, Beacon Hills - the supernatural wonder in the area is your new home and while it’s falling apart.  You’re being pulled here to meet someone.

MASTERLIST || NEXT>>

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 02 March 2019

[daysswithyou]

Jae - Ghost of You

Characters: Jae x You

Genre: angst

Warnings: mentions of death and blood; please do not read if you are uncomfortable.

Words: 3.5k

Description: too young, too dumb, to know things like love.

Insp: listen to this first, then this (listen to the Ghost of You track from the album in the 2nd link!)

---

No matter how many times he relives it, Jae will never get used to this.

The sharp beep of the alarm clock disrupts the peaceful morning atmosphere and pierces through his eardrums. When the alarm keeps ringing, it starts to give Jae a throbbing headache – like the incessant beating of the pedal against a bass drum. Despite his apparent discomfort, he continues to sleep it off, confident that you will wake him up in due time once the alarm has stopped ringing.

You always do – and today will not be any different.

Jae starts the countdown that he has memorised by heart.

“5…4…3…2…1.”

The beeping stops as soon as the words leave his pouty lips, the sound fading away. The soft chirps of the birds through the window sound crisp to his ears; so Jae relishes in the feeling and sinks further into dreamland. It feels like lying on top of a cotton candy cloud; so sweet that he does not ever want to leave.

But an all too familiar voice calls out to him; yours, actually.

Jae, it’s time to wake up.

“5 more minutes sweetheart…”

Baby, you’re going to be late for work. You have to get up now.

“I don’t want to…”

He hears you sigh behind him, and the slight shift in the air tells him that you’re about send a retort his way.

Acting instinctively, Jae turns around one hundred and eighty degrees so that he’s now facing you, and throws an arm over to pull you close so that you’ll stop bugging him to wake up.

But his hands find nothing instead, and the harsh contact of his wrist and the bed springs sent his hand recoiling back, the sharp pang of pain jolting him awake.

His eyes fly open, and instead of finding your face staring back at him, all he sees is the empty side of your bed, the sheets pressed so neatly that not a single crease could be seen.

It’s like you weren’t home last night – and that could not have been closer to the truth.

 She's gone. She's gone.

Not wanting to believe that you were no longer in his life, Jae tries to convince himself that you were still here. Slowly, he lowers his hand onto your side of the bed, eyes trained on the spot where his hand usually comes into contact with your waist. He could still see your sleeping form clearly in his mind; the way you would always inhale through your nose but exhale through your mouth with a little puff of air, the way you'd unconsciously frown in your sleep and how he would always use his thumb to smooth over your wrinkles so that you'll relax. Somehow, your pyjamas were always a size too small so in the middle of the night, through all that tossing and turning, your shirt would always ride up a little, exposing a small strip of skin. Jae always loved holding onto that part when you two of you cuddled. He relished in the feeling of your skin against the palm of his hand; the warmth telling him that you're present and alive.

He lets his hand hover over the bed sheets slightly, clearly hesitating. He's afraid to put it down, terrified of the realisation that comes with that one, simple action of his.

Before he loses his resolve, Jae slams his hand onto the blankets – and it feels like hitting a brick wall.

Cold, hard and painful.

It was all the things that you weren't, and it further cements the reality that you're no longer there. He runs his hands over the sheets,

once,

twice,

thrice.

No matter how many times he does it, Jae cannot feel the residual warmth that you leave behind. But that wasn't the worst part; the worst is the knowledge that what he does will never bring back the warmth that you brought to the bed that both of you used to share. Even though you were no longer physically there, somewhere in his mind, Jae pictures your self hovering over him, yanking the blankets away from him and throwing open the windows to let the sun in. When you do that, he knows that his time for lazing around has officially ended, so Jae pushes himself to sit up on the bed, the act causing him to lose consciousness for a moment.

When his vision restores, amongst the clutter in the room, Jae somehow manages to focus on the one thing that reminds him of you.

That one chicken cup placed on top of the coffee table.

Jae smiles slightly at the memory of how you got it, the corners of his lips lifting ever so slightly as he pictures your smiling face when you presented it to him.

Both of you had decided to exchange wedding gifts, and you seemed to be very proud of your choice. You hid it behind your back all the way, refusing to let him see it until he closed his eyes in order to surprised him.

"Ah...wae...! Can't you just show it to me now?"

"No! It has to be a surprise and in order for it to BE a surprise, you have to close your eyes Jae!"

"I refuse to! I don't want to close my eyes!"

"I really don't remember agreeing to marry a baby; please don't let me question my life decisions."

"Wow. If you say it like that how am I supposed to win?"

"You don't."

You then flashed him your sweetest smile and Jae finally relented and closed his eyes, albeit begrudgingly.

Inching your face closer to his, you made sure that he wasn't peeking through his lashes before slowly, bringing the cups from behind your back and placing them gently in his outstretched hands. The cool sensation of the ceramic cups against this skin caused his eyes to fly open and the moment he saw the printings, he burst out laughing, using the back of his hands to cover his mouth. He continued laughing for the next 5 minutes, completely unable to stop his laughter at all. Between hiccups of laughter and gulps of air, Jae managed to croak out a sentence.

"So this...HAHAHA...was your...oh sweetheart help me I can't stop laughing...idea of a surprise?"

"Why... is it not good?"

One look at your crestfallen face and pouty lips was enough to make Jae stop laughing and start to take the cups seriously. It was obvious that you had gone to great lengths to have the cups custom-made; Jae was convinced that no one would ever mass produce cups of this design. Right below the Mr and Mrs print were the Chicken Little designs and you even had the original, male version of Chicken Little edited to look like what the female version of Chicken Little would. It was undeniably cute, Jae would certainly admit that but the most endearing part was the childlike excitement that you had while presenting it to him. Wanting to see the same light in your eyes, Jae knew just the thing to do to cheer you up.

"Thank you, sweetheart. It's is the best wedding gift ever."

"Well, you're only going to get one in your entire life so of course it has to be the best."

"You're so smart...what do I do with you?"

You finally cracked a smile and cupping your face gently with both hands, Jae pulled you in before giving a long, sweet kiss.

-

Years have passed since that incident, but Jae still remembers it as though it happened yesterday. Turning the cup around in his hands, he finds your usual lipstick stain on the rim of the cup. It was fading with time and he knew it wouldn't be long before it would completely disappear. The colour was now faint but Jae could still make it out - it was the peach coloured one that he loved. Your lips always looked so irresistible in that shade and Jae always had to steal a kiss or two. Over the years, he has lost count of the number of times he's kissed those soft lips; there were the short pecks that he'll steal from you on the train, then there were also the sweet ones spent savouring your lips and last but not least, the deep ones where he took his time exploring your mouth and his hands roamed all over.

But all it took was a split second for those happy memories to be shattered and replaced with jarring images; suddenly all he could see was your pale chapped lips and...blood. Lots of it. It was flowing and flowing and Jae didn't know what to do. Placing the cup down with shaky hands, Jae repeatedly slammed his wrist into his head, hoping to beat the pain away but to no avail.  No matter how much he wanted them to stop, the images kept invading his mind and before he lost consciousness, he managed to stumble out of room, tripping and falling along the way.

Yet, the next place he entered wasn't necessarily the happiest place. Instead, it was a place that brought back terrible memories. Stepping inside the kitchen, he notices the counter chairs lying askew; it looked as if people had pushed them out hastily, and in Jae's clouded memories of that day, it was likely to have happened.

 He pushes the chair back slowly, remembering how you always hated the house to be in a mess. His eyes accidentally wander over the broken plate in the sink and it feels like he's reliving the moment again.

Fumbling his cuff links, Jae enters the kitchen already in a foul mood. Not the best way to start the day, especially since he's perpetually been sulky for the past few months. Business was not going well for Jae, and the smallest things irritated him. Today was no different. Sitting down in front of you at the counter, he started shovelling eggs into his mouth with neither a single greeting nor a glance at you. Life as a married couple didn't use to be this way for the both of you, but you've come to accept that perhaps, things have now changed. You were well aware that anything not related to saving his business was the last thing on his mind right now so you've decided to let him do his things and be the supportive partner. You really tried your utmost to not bother him but you had to tell him this.

"Jae."

"What?"

You were taken aback by his curt tone and you felt your determination shrivel. He clearly was not in the mood to listen, and you weren't sure if you still wanted to tell him. He could simply acknowledge the news, or he might throw a fit. Both didn't seem like the rosy scenes that you wished to face.

"Never mind. It's fine, forget that I said anything."

"Don't pull this on me Y/N. You either say it or you don't. Don't tell me that you're going to say something and not say it."

The sudden surge of anger caused Jae to react without thinking, and he shoved the empty plate with too much force; so much that when it collided with the metal sink, it cracked into pieces. Jae saw you flinch at the sudden sound, but he didn't bother to apologise.

"Jae, if you're going to react so badly to all that I say, what's the point of me telling you what I was planning to in the first place?"

Now, Jae too, was dumbfounded by your words. You hardly raise your voice at him and he recognises this particular tone. It was the tone that you used when you were royally pissed off and Jae should know better than to argue with you. But he intends to do it anyways. His mouth opened to form a response but his phone screen lighting up stole his attention instead. Completely forgetting about the ongoing debate, Jae hurriedly answered the call and stood from his seat.

You wanted to let him leave, but a single thought had you shooting up from your seat and latching onto him.

No, he has to know. I have to let him know.

Running after him that was already by the door, you held onto his wrists and whisked him around.

"Just spare me a minute Jae. You have-"

"Y/N, please just stop distracting me. This is a really important deal. We can talk about this later when we're home."

He sees the light in your eyes die and when he feels your hand falling from his wrist, he turns to leave the house, slamming his door on the way out.

 Then the memory ends and Jae cannot remember what happens for the rest of the day until he got the earth-shattering call. The call that changed his world forever. That was also the last time he saw you, alive and well.

Was this way you left?

The more he thinks about it, the more certain Jae was the he was the reason you left and the argument was the breaking point. Jae needed to take out his anger, and the nearest object became the victim of his fury. Swinging his arm back as far as he could, he hurled the broken pieces across the living room and each piece broke into a million smaller ones, littering the entire floor with shards of ceramic. He tried to scream above the cacophony that he created, hoping that the sounds would drown out the demons in his heads. But even as the screaming ceased, the demons in his head didn't. Jae needed to escape, and he knew only one thing that would work.

He needed you. He needed the refuge you provided, to hold onto to some part of you to keep him sane. Eyes wandering, they finally landed on the speaker that you loved so much. Trudging over, Jae presses the play button as soon as his hands come into contact with the cold metal buttons and the first song that plays is a familiar piano tune; the one that you and he always used to dance to.

The song helps him recall joyous memories. Each dance session would always start the same way. You would play the song innocently, and this is how the conversation goes:

"This tune again, Y/N?"

"I just wanted to listen to it again, nothing much."

"Ok sweetheart."

Both of you then busy yourselves around the house, each trying to not seem suspicious to the other. Yet, Jae would always end up in the living room, looking out at the city below as he back faces you.

He pretends not to know your true intention, and waits in anticipation for you to approach him instead. It doesn't take long for his prediction to come true, for he hears your footsteps behind him soon. With each step that you take closer to him, his heart races faster. He keeps listening for how close you are, so he practically has your footsteps memorised now.

They always start out tentative, slow and unsure. When you're finally convinced that he's unaware of your intentions, they become faster and surer and it would take exactly 3 seconds from the time that started before he would feel your arms wrap around his middle, and a tender kiss pressed below his ear; right where his mole was.

"Dance with me?"

He always replies with a affectionate kiss on your cheek and he takes your hand in his, and you lead him onto the carpet in the middle of the room. There, the two of you slow dance to the song. Neither of you being too much of a dancer, the dance was always filled with awkward steps on each other's feet and sweet kisses shared to make up for it. Or, simply to express your deep love for one another.

As the memories become clearer in his mind, Jae tries to remember the feeling of holding you in his arms. It was agonising because he remembers – he’s very much aware of how it feels like to hold you; your curves fitting right into the palm of his hand. But the agony soon becomes a searing pain that slices through his heart because he knows how it exactly it feels like to hold you, but it was impossible to physically do it.

Jae thought it was inconceivable for a single person to bear so much grief in their body but when the music stopped and he hears your voice through the speakers, a new found anguish leaves him in an absolute wreck.

“Hey baby. Oh, my big baby.”

The sound of your voice cracking sends him into another spiral of emotions as it finally dawns upon him, how much you’ve been enduring silently all this while by yourself. At this point, his jaw goes slack and his face contorts, but no sound comes out from the open mouth that belongs to him. He stands there motionless as he listens to your recording, left completely at the mercy of the demons inside his head.

“I probably will not get the chance to tell you this in person and hence the recording, so just stay with me till the end, ok?

The past few months have been nothing but difficult for you, and I understand that. I tried to support you in any ways that I could but… I guess it wasn’t the kind of support that you needed. For that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being able to find more ways to make your situation better. I’ve come to realise that maybe I was a distraction and so I’ve decided that maybe we could use some time away from one another. I’ll be living at my parents for the time being so you know where to find me if you need me. I have faith in our marriage so don’t disappoint me Park Jaehyung.”

And that was when it happened. The Accident. They said you were leaving with your suitcase in tow and the truck came barrelling out of nowhere. Someone heard you scream ‘baby’; you were calling out for him when you needed him but he was too late.

Before he sinks further into the abyss, you let out a laugh here – but it wasn’t genuine. Jae knows this move; you’re just using humour to cover up the serious issue at hand. He hears the tapping of your feet in the background and he’s certain that he’s right. It was your habit when you’re nervous – and you’re clearly nervous about something now. He imagines you holding your breath at that moment, and he waits in bated breath for your next words.

It was nothing that he expected; the kind of things that makes his blood freeze and his heart stop beating. The kind that makes his world stop spinning – and wish that he was dead too.

“I’m pregnant Jae. About 2 months now. That was what I had been working up the courage to tell you about this morning but that obviously didn’t go too well. I know this news is probably unwelcomed when we’re not in the best position to raise a child but please, don’t hate the child. He or she is innocent. I love this unborn child with all my heart and I’m sure that someday you will too. It’ll take some time to accept… but we’ll figure it out. Here’s the baby’s heartbeat that I got at the scan this Monday, I thought you’d like to hear.”

Then it plays, loud and clear over the crisp speakers. The rapid beating of the baby’s heart that was extremely fast but rhythmic. His hand flies to his chest as he clutches his heart hard with a bone-crushing force. That was what he intended to do – crush it so hard that maybe it’ll stop beating so that he’ll stop feeling. It was too much, simply too much to bear.

But the excruciating pain only intensifies with the hazy memories of the past few days forming clearly in his mind now.

“We tried our best, I’m sorry for your losses Mr Park.” – the way the doctor chose to use the word loss in plural instead of singular, armed with the knowledge that you were carrying a small life inside of you.

Your frequents trips to the washroom early in the morning and the heavier eye bags – it must have been hard adjusting to the new changes that came with being pregnant yet Jae wrote it off as stress, never once asking if you were alright.

The way you held onto your belly as they wheeled you into the ER after the horrible accident – you were begging them to save the child, not you.

The way that you screamed ‘baby’ – you were crying out for Jae, and your unborn child.

It was the one thing that you tried to tell Jae even with your dying breath, but he never listened. He only listened when it was too late, and now he was left listening to your last gift to him.

“It’s not a forever goodbye Jae. I can’t live without you, not anymore. You’ll be fine – and I’ll be back when things are better, or whenever you want me to. I love you Jae, don’t ever forget that you big baby.”

Sweetheart, you said that you cannot live without me, but how am I supposed to live without you? If you were here right now, you’d tell me that I’ll be just fine. But I never will be. I can’t live with the guilt, and without you. Where are you now? All that’s left is the ghost of you – close enough to feel but never enough to hold.

[gremlins-on-ice]

Can I request a scenario with a fem!reader that's Bruno's little sister? When Passione is fighting against La Squadra and Prosciutto is about to die,she steps in to save him. They've been dating in secret,but she feels so ashamed when she admits it,feeling like she betrayed her brother,her family,but she can't help her love for Prosciutto. With la squadra reacting to it as well. Also God knows how she kept that from Bruno,she just knows him to well and found ways to lie to him.

awhsudh I got u!!

under a readmore bc it's long just bc dialogue heavy aksjdhakd

It's taking every bit of your willpower to say in the turtle like your brother told you but your nerves are eating at you and you feel like you're going to cry. You're listening intently, heart swelling every time you hear Prosciutto speak. You're conflicted, unsure what the right move is. Why did it have to come to this? Why did it have to be him?

You'd been seeing Prosciutto for months now, all in secret because you couldn't let your team or brother know. Even Prosciutto didn't know Bruno was your brother. You felt a bit of shame, terrified of what everyone's reaction would be if they knew. You knew La Squadra had a reputation; they're assassins for God's sake... but Prosciutto had so much more to offer, he was so much more than just an assassin doing the Boss's dirty work. You knew Bruno and your team would never understand...

Another crash brought you out of your thoughts and you recognized Bruno's wince in pain. You're desperate to try to come up with a solution to get everyone out of here alive. They were going to try to kill each other and you knew you would be the only one who could stop them. 

You rise up and reach to exit the turtle, suddenly thrown into the train cabin where Prosciutto and Bruno were facing off. You notice someone who must've been Pesci in the corner unconscious.

Prosciutto is the first to see you since he's facing your way and his eyes are wide and mouth agape. 

“(FS)?” he croaks out and you flinch as Bruno whips around quickly to look at you. He looks back at Prosciutto with a confused, but furious face.

“What- how? How do you know her name?!” Bruno yells at him while you scramble to his side. He turns to you. “I told you to stay inside!”

“I- I know but-” you cut yourself off, speechless at the confusion in Prosciutto's eyes.

“(FS) what's, why are-" Prosciutto is cut off by a punch to the gut by Sticky Fingers and you cry out, rushing between Bruno's stand and Prosciutto.

“No!” you yell with tears starting to stream down your face. Bruno’s look is indecipherable, many emotions flashing on his wrinkled face. 

“(FS) what are you- why? I don't-" he's unable to finish a sentence. You feel Prosciutto rise and place a hand on your shoulder. Bruno summons Sticky Fingers again, glaring daggers into Prosciutto.

“Don't you touch her!” Bruno snaps.

“Who is he, (FS)?” Prosciutto grunts from behind you and you're shaking at this point, fighting back sobs.

“Her brother,” Bruno answers for you, spitting his answer like it's venom. You hear Prosciutto mutter the word and then he's at your side, narrowed eyes assessing your crying face.

“He's your-"

“How do you know her?!” Bruno repeats frantically. His eyes are boring into you and you can hardly handle his intense gaze as you go to speak.

“He's my, I...” You can't finish your own sentence, wishing this didn't have to be how you revealed your secret to your brother.

“You should know the answer by now,” Prosciutto cuts in, bravely placing an arm around your waist. Bruno is quick to lunge at him to tear him off of you, pressing him harshly to the wall.

“You bastard,” Bruno grits, rearing back a fist that you're thankfully able to grab in time.

“Bruno please!” you cry.

“You know what he is?! He's a filthy-" 

“I know what he is and I love him!” you confess. Bruno tenses at your words but doesn't release Prosciutto. He turns his head back at you, a look of disgust on his face.

“You love him? (FS) you don't know what you're saying,” he snaps, shaking his arm free. You move to slip between them again, pushing Bruno off of Prosciutto so you can stand before him once more before he can try to hit him again. 

“Yes I do! I- I just couldn't tell you! You wouldn't-” you're choking back sobs now, “you wouldn't understand!”

“He's a murderer!” Bruno barks, “An assassin! He's here to-"

“I know but he- I-,” You can feel a hand brush yours, fingers lingering in your palm. 

“You never told me your brother was Bruno Buccellati,” Prosciutto grumbles from behind you. You hadn't ever told him what your last name was simply because it never came up. You were honestly scared he wouldn't give you the chance he did if he did know...

“I know, I- I wasn't sure how you'd react-"

“(FS)!” Bruno snaps and you flinch. 

“I know! Shit, I'm sorry but Bruno please, you have to understand! I can't let you hurt him, please!” you're begging and crying and Bruno's expression is starting to soften. 

“He's trying to take Trish-"

“I know!” you sob, “B-But I can't let you kill him!”

“And so what am I supposed to do?” You hadn't thought this far. Prosciutto was silent behind you, hand now entwined with yours. You look back at him, searching his face for an answer but he offers none. 

“I can't let him take her,” Bruno states and you nod.

“I know...”

“And I cannot leave empty handed,” Prosciutto finally speaks and it prompts more tears to roll down your face. 

“Why do you even need her?!” you snap at Prosciutto, turning more towards him and releasing his hand, “She doesn't even know anything about the Boss!” 

Prosciutto is silent, as is Bruno.

“She can lead us to-"

“No she can't! She doesn't know anything about him! He'll just try to hurt you more! Prosciutto please, I'm begging you!” you sob, hands gripping his collar as he turns from your pained expression.

“You know I can't-"

“Yes you can!”

“It's a direct order from Ner-"

“Tell him he's wrong!” You're desperate to end this without anymore violence as well as without forfeiting Trish over. You know you're right; having her in La Squadra's clutches will just anger the Boss more, not help them find him! 

“(FS),” Bruno's tone is more gentle now and he's reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. You're shaking and crying, fighting the urge to retreat into the comforting grasp of your brother. 

“I won't let you hurt him,” you say, turning to face Bruno, “but I can't let you take her,” you turn back to Prosciutto. 

It's then that Pesci starts to come to, grumbling and rubbing his head. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Fra! Are you- who's? Wha-"

“Not now, Pesci!” Prosciutto snaps and Pesci falls silent, watching with a confused expression. 

A long silence fills the cabin until Prosciutto steps away from you. You watch him with tears in your eyes, unsure of what he's about to do. Bruno is also watching him closely, ready to strike at any moment.

“Pesci!” Prosciutto suddenly says and Pesci jolts suddenly, “We're leaving!’” Prosciutto announces and Pesci's mouth is agape.

“W-Wha? Fra, are you sure? We're giving up-"

“No!” Prosciutto snaps, grabbing Pesci by the collar of his jacket, “We’re just. Leaving.” His eyes are on you as he speaks. 

“And you think I will allow you to walk away?” Bruno says and you're turning back to him.

“Bruno please! Let him-" He holds up a hand to stop you mid sentence. He then turns to point a finger in Prosciutto's direction. 

“If you or any of your team tries this again,” he speaks through grit teeth, “I will kill you.” You look back at Prosciutto who is looking at Bruno and then back at you. He doesn't say anything, just nods in acknowledgement. He gives you one last glance before ushering Pesci out the cabin.

“B-But wait, how are we going to get off of here, fra?! The train is-"

“I know what the train is doing! Use your Beach Boy to hook us to a limb or something outside!” 

You can hear their muffled bickering as they made their way through the hall of the train. You noticed Bruno's wrinkles have disappeared, signalling that Prosciutto had called off his stand. You let out a breath you'd been holding for a bit and glance shamefully at Bruno, who is giving you a look of disappointment.

“I believe we have much to discuss,” he says, walking to pick the turtle up. 

---

Risotto is not pleased with Prosciutto's return and much less with his reasoning as to why. Pesci has been enlightened on the relationship Prosciutto holds with Buccellati's sister and the rest of the team now knows as well. 

The flack he receives pisses him off because even he didn't know she was Bruno's sister! It changes little of how he feels about her, though, especially when she threw herself in front of him to keep Bruno from fighting him more.

Ghiaccio is harping on him, spitting that he'd seriously chose some pussy over avenging the deaths of Formaggio and Illuso?! Prosciutto is furious, reiterating that he had no idea they were related and even if he did, well, maybe things would have gone different but maybe not. 

Melone has little to say on the situation and sits quietly to observe. Perhaps he will attempt to offer his own comforts to Prosciutto later because he can see the conflict in his eyes, the emotions that Ghiaccio is unable to pick up on.

Prosciutto and Risotto have a private meeting, mostly consisting of Risotto expressing his disappointment and reiterating what their goal here was. Prosciutto relays the information he'd picked up, that the Boss's daughter truly would not lead them to the Boss in the end just like his beloved had said but Risotto seems unmoved. 

“We can come at him from a different angle,” Prosciutto says, “maybe go through-"

“And what of your fallen comrades?” Risotto grits, “are we to just let their deaths be in vain? Because you cannot control yourself around Buccellati's-"

“I didn't know!” Prosciutto defends himself. 

“And if you did? Would you have still pursued her?”

Prosciutto ponders, heart lurching at the thought. Would he? He thinks of her, everything he loves and holds dear about her. He finds himself missing her more, wishing to throw this situation aside for the time and find her. But he can't. 

“I- I don't know,” he mutters and Risotto hums.

“Yes you do.” He's right; he does know. He would have been more reluctant perhaps but she enthralled him from the start and even if he tried to avoid her, he wouldn't be able to get her out of his head. He sighs, feeling defeated for a second time.

A long moment of silence and Risotto finally speaks again.

“We will... try a different means of finding him,” he says lowly, “perhaps pay Unita Speciale a visit.” Prosciutto picks his head up to meet Risotto's blackened gaze.

“But should I or anyone else on this team cross paths with Buccellati's team again, we will not be so merciful,” he says and Prosciutto nods.

“Understood.”

[dilfhakyeon-moved]

46 and 48 for the writing prompts with javid? :)

i did it after like a month or whatever but i did it

TW: it’s fucken soooooft bitches big fluff i keep writing big fluff it’s BIG FLUFF

I’ve liked you for a while now.

“What ?”

Davey wasn’t sure he could say it. Voice it. He’d just said it, but everything was so easier when the other didn’t understand. He tended to do that quite often, and it just… frustrated Jack ; how was he supposed to understand whatever he was saying ?

“Look, I’m gonna end up pickin’ up sign language just so I can understand what you’re on about.”

“It’s really not that important, Jack. I’m just messing around.”

“Huh, sure.”

Jack rolled his eyes, then went back to what he was doing. Sketching. Usually, painting was what he did in his free time ; he claimed “ he didn’t have good pencils anymore “ but maybe he just decided he’d follow every single Bob Ross tutorial, because why not ? He hadn’t done it yet. Sure, he’d always loved Bob Ross, but he’d done art on his own. Recreating paintings he loved though, that, he could do.

Either way, he wasn’t painting at the moment, was he ? Just… drawing. But Davey didn’t really take time to look at it, instead looking back down at his phone and trying to shrug it off.

Yeah… ‘quite a while’. What a phrase. How much could its meaning vary, depending on who said it and about what. Love. Yes, that’s a strong feeling, a strong emotion. Jack had been making Davey feel overwhelmed with… love, for how long ? What did ‘quite a while’ mean to him ? He’d stopped counting the days ; they’d turned into weeks, then months… years. Wasn’t that silly ? Years. He’d been head over heels for Jack, for years. No word had been spoken about it yet, out loud. Quite a while of him silently expressing how he felt, but that wasn’t just down to the signs he made with his hands. His every action was a display of affection, based on his own definition of affection. Who could tell whether Jack had noticed ? Jack, who was always so focused and cautious with his moves, how his pencil traced on the paper, had his eyes noticed movements other than those of his own hand ? Part of the other hoped so ; another part was terrified at the idea of it.

Would he have kept quiet ?

Was he fully aware, did he know anything at all ?

“Dave, focus on your phone, feels weird when you’re just starin’ at me lookin’ all sad.”

Ah, right. Jack was… observant, after all. He didn’t need to look up to know the troubled teen was making one of these faces he couldn’t even look at ; in fact, that was the reason he wasn’t looking up. But did Davey know that ? Did Davey know anything at all himself ? His heart was burning, chest tightening. He looked back down at his phone ; silence ruled over their own little kingdom for a different definition of ‘quite a while’.

A while.

Jack had moved during this while, but he was still sketching, or so his friend thought. But when looking up again, he saw the teen was just glaring at the piece he’d just made. Was he judging its worth and beauty ? It seemed so. He had this gaze he always had when he was being his own worst critic.

Quietly, Davey set his phone down on the couch before leaning in, gently tapping Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, you can show me if you need an external opinion.”

“I…” He stammered a little, looking up at him with a frown ; furrowed brows and his eyes slightly narrowed. “I don’t know, Dave. Ain’t sketched in a while, maybe I should just do another…”

“C’mon, Jackie. I won’t be harsh, promise,” he encouraged before giving a wink. “Can’t be harsh on a pal.”

Jack stared a few seconds longer before sighing and handing out the sketchbook. He didn’t seem too impatient to see Davey’s reaction, instead looking down at his feet, and yet he was missing a sight he’d always loved witnessing. No matter how unaware of it both of them were.

A portrait, of course. It had to be Davey, right ? He definitely recognised himself, but a voice inside of him told him it was too pretty to be him.

He stuttered out a quiet “I don’t deserve it,” while his cheeks showed a nice, light shade of pink, and his lips were parted in surprise still. Causing Jack’s head to jolt back up and snatch the sketchbook from his hands, this time moving to sit closer to him and nudging his shoulder.

“ ‘Course you do, what’re you talking about ? It’s just a sketch, it doesn’t even look that good. I could’ve done much better.”

“Jack, you don’t get how amazing your art is. Seriously, you’re extremely skilled, and you always capture the right images… Make them better even.” He muttered the last part, not that the other couldn’t hear it anyway.

“You literally look perfect, I can’t just match…”

Once he’d started his sentence, he’d known he’d mess up. But he’d kept going up until it could be considered too late ; old friend silence had returned and was thriving in their shared embarrassment-mixed-anxiety.

Another, different while.

“I’m just… You look real nice, and…”

“You look wonderful too, Jack.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

And another.

“Hey… Jack. I got a weird question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I… kiss you, right now ?”

They both felt like young middle schoolers who’d just fallen in love for the first time ; middle schoolers and their child crushes, being so awkward and shy around them without it troubling their pure, sweet feelings in any way. These boys weren’t pure anymore ; they’d suffered from life already, but somehow this moment felt like that innocence enveloped them again. Trying to look at the other then immediately avoiding it, their hands fidgeting and nervous, sheepish giggles sometimes escaping them.

“I think you can.”

They did kiss. A weight, lifted from both these boys’ shoulders ; young fools in love, and yet their youth and will to prove themselves didn’t take away how chaste, sweet, even clumsy that kiss was. All pride they’d possibly shown elsewhere, gone - only them, their feelings, their lips, and their hands timidly reaching out for the other, eventually meeting. They held hands and kissed ; paused to breathe, kissed again.

Young fools in love, but foolishness cannot take away emotions, the purest of truths.

Tag list:@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@i-got-personality@thatfancyclam@we-dont-sell-papes@ben-cook-can-cook@not-your-cigar@nverkept@jackhasdreams@racescoronas@suddenly-im-respecsable@purplelittlepup@hopeful-broadwaybaby@broadwayandbookblog@crazymecjc@maiawakening@awwwwwwdang@albertdasillva@daveys-pet-snake@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@marcusisaprettygay

[nehawriter16]

2018, THE YEAR THAT BROKE ME

I’m currently sitting on the floor of my bedroom. It’s been a day of avoiding real work and responsibilities, but then again, escapism is kind of the theme of this year, so it’s only accurate that I’m here writing this.

Everybody is asleep, except me. And the men I like who live overseas, but they’ve been ignoring me, so I have no desire to ring them up despite the general despair and loneliness I feel. But let’s not begin our round up with boys, because although they rank high on my list of important life lessons/disappointments this year, I don’t want also want to give them the satisfaction of first place.

In the last 365 days, a lot about my life changed. I’m going to try to sum it up as best as I can.

1) In the beginning of December, I quit an internship that anybody else would have killed for. The work and constant travelling and being yelled at by crude seniors broke the delicate petal that I am. I’d landed that job at 19, and I loved that I was thrown into the adult world so early because it taught me a lot, but two years of showing up every day to do something I don’t love killed something inside of my brain. And so, I decided to take a month off and then move to a smaller firm, not realising that my job at EY would help to keep my sanity by keeping me occupied.

The first few weeks were bliss. After twelve hour work days, I suddenly had a lot of free time and I indulged in attending fun trainings and catching up with old friends. For a short second, life was filled with hope, up until my birthday in mid Jan.

2) Since I now had the luxury of lesser work hours, I decided to pursue one of my biggest dreams – writing a book. I already had the story in mind, and I thought that despite the emotional turmoil that revisiting some of the memories would bring, the bigger picture would be worth it. It’s almost the end of December now, and I’m still sure it is.

But the truth is – my relationship with A blossomed in 2016, and died a premature death in mid 2017. And I’ve been dragging it through the ground for longer than I should be. Sometimes I wonder if I’m solely responsible for squeezing it for the story. Or maybe it was the kind of love you can’t forget. Well, I can’t. I’m sure he has.

But one of the hardest things about writing this has been taking myself back to when we were falling for each other. I’ve been reading emails about hopes and dreams and forever after it has already ended. And how do you write about happiness when you know there isn’t going to be any? All this is important for the narrative, yes, but it fucks with my mental health so badly. 2016 me was naive and trusting. 2018 me is bitter, and not too thrilled about revisiting those moments mostly because of how much they hurt just to think about, forget turning them into an interesting cliff hanger filled story.    

I have almost finished writing it though, and that’s what’s the more important thing. I don’t know what kind of nightmares publishing and finding an agent and royalties is going to bring, but at least I will have created something tangible and coherent instead of this faraway thing that I’ve dreamt of since I was 13.

3) I tanked my CA Final – and this was the biggest disappointment, no surprises there. More than the gallons of self loathing it brought on me, it was about the burden I created for my parents. Yesterday my mother, in a burst of anger, said, “If you don’t pass in May, you can’t live under our roof anymore.” She doesn’t know this, and she probably never will, but I cried myself to sleep because that thought terrifies me.

I feel like I am already just swimming through a rubble of guilt. Most people my age have already gotten well paying jobs and have been living out of home for years now. They are financing themselves and starting businesses and I don’t even read the newspaper on a daily basis. I lack the self control I used to have in school, or maybe my mother’s constant nagging and being up my ass was the only way I stayed successful when I was younger.

Of course, this career choice was a MASSIVE bad decision, and I’ve always felt out of place in it. I will never be the best, but I really do need to pass and finish. If I can’t pass it again, I will literally sink into unconquerable depression that no amount of therapy and medicines will be able to pull me out of.

I’m supposed to start studying from the 1st, and I hope that it doesn’t drive me FUCKING INSANE like the last time it did, because this time, the pressure is higher and time, lesser.

I still have some grit left in me though. The last two months of this year have been difficult, but creatively fulfilling, and I am okay with having to go back to analytical subjects again. I feel sane enough to drop into the mental battlefield that is the CA Final syllabus.  

 4) I’m 23 in a fortnight, and at least 5 of my friends got engaged this year. I was the oldest in school in my batch so they’re all younger than me. This whole finding a boy thing is stressing me the fuck out, because as per my calculations, it would take a year of courting for me to so much as like somebody seriously. After that, it would take two years for me to try every possible method to drive him away, and torture him with all my hamartias, and THEN if he doesn’t leave, and when he proposes, I’ll be like, “Okay fine. Maybe we can be engaged.” This whole process takes 3 years. I want to be married at 26, so I only have those many. The problem is that in this time period, it will not only be difficult to find an emotionally available boy with a pretty face – WAIT, for him to find me, because women don’t do the chasing – who is also sexy and charming and reads poetry and has a sensible head on his shoulders. No, in this time period I will also be taking solely career-oriented decisions as one must, and love will always take the backseat. I want to move abroad in 2020 and he may live somewhere else, and it’s clear from my several failed attempts that I can’t do long distance. Also to be noted that you cannot try this experiment with different men simultaneously. It’s sort of a one lab rat at a time type of test.

So what, then? Fuck feelings, and only be serious with hook ups? I think I’ve filled my 2018 with at least a two dozen of those hot but dumb types (tall, abs, rolling in money, half a brain, bonus if they’re good kissers, but you can never date them seriously) and to be honest I’m getting tired of them. First of all, they’re all pussies about the poetry, it literally frightens them which I find kind of hilarious, but it’s also annoying. Sure, we can roll a joint and make out on my terrace, and they’ll just pull up when I find myself getting even the least bit lonely, but the ones I really like – the fuckboys who I see have real turning into boyfriend potential – they live abroad. It’s so cliché, I might vomit, but they literally live in London and New York. London Boy is only here for a month and then he’s gone. New York one may stay back, but he always wants to meet after midnight and there’s no fucking way my parents are allowing that.

And let’s face it, I’m a relationship girl. Sure, I’ve picked up some skills with hooking up and if we’re being honest I don’t really have to make an effort, just pick a half-interesting loser from the hundred DM’s sitting in my Instagram, and it’s done. He does the work and buys the drinks. I put out. I ghost. It’s practically a system.

But I’m bored now. I need somebody entertaining. But no matter what, one of the most important lessons I’ve learnt this year is to never settle for less than what I deserve. (At least for my heart. My body gets it when she likes it, and thats enough.) So I say no to…well, everybody. True love has literally been evading me, and may for a while, I think until this CA shit is done, because it’s more important anyway.

Until then, I literally have a broadcast list called, “FWB.”

4) Do I even need to write about fake friends? Girls are so fucking FAKE NICE, it irritates me. And I have a great group of these girls in my life, who want nothing more than to use you as a stool to get to where they want. I have very few real friends and I’m so grateful for them (okay, her) because everybody else is just about the temporary bullshit. I am always afraid of judgement with them, and everything I say comes with a “what will they think of me?” filter. I don’t think real friendships should be like that at all. No, in a true friendship, you should be able to take both – your make up and fake bitch mask off and sit around in sweats, drinking and complaining about everything that’s wrong with your life.

Is this really how adults act? Will I always have to worry about the ulterior motives of everybody new I meet? And even scarier, if I spend enough time around them, will I also turn into a self centered asshole with no backbone? Will I forget who I am and start adapting to the social settings into which I’ve been thrust?

Because I hope not. Despite everything that’s happened this year, and despite almost losing my mind to mental health (yes! A thing I am still not ready to talk about! But someday will be!) I actually like my brain and what its capable of, once it starts trying. I like the stuff I come up with, the way my thoughts come out as sentences. I am actually a fan of the voice in my head, who – let’s face it – has been a real ass friend to me also. Even though she kind of went crazy with the depression, but I think the recovery has begun.

2018 was a fucking shithole, and god, I fell deep. I know 2019 is going to be even harder but I hope it is filled with more genuine happiness because it’s been a long time since I felt “happiness” as a permanent, internal feeling. It’s just been more of a fleeting and momentary thing for a few hours before the sadness envelopes me and takes lead.

So I hope that when I speak to you in – and over – the next 365 day period that’s about to begin, I am able to share some more hope and joy with you. I hope the motherfucker I’m going to marry stops sitting around on his ass and finds me, because I’m ready for my heart to be won over again. I have mourned enough, and fucked half the high spirits crowd. But most of all… I hope this book I’ve written does well. Not just because it’s a brilliant piece of shit, and a beautiful fucking story (if I may say so myself) but mostly because I really like clothes and I could use the money.

Also it would be great to stop feeling so mediocre all the time, so yeah. That would be nice. Will keep you updated Tumblr!

Love,

NC

[canonja-blog]

Sentence Starters from my Favorite Fanfics (Part 6)

“You fucking told them?”

“You fucking incompetent pansy, the first thing we learn is to never tell anyone and you fucking tell everyone?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Why didn’t you call the local radio station and announce it to the entire fucking town?”

“He deserved to know!”

“He told them and now we have to kill them all and hide the bodies. Did you bring any lye?”

“No, but I know where I can get some.”

“How many bodies?”

“We’re not killing anyone.”

“Oh shit. We are the worst agents in the history of ever.”

“He’s probably halfway to Mexico by now.”

“None of this would have happened if you had done your damn job.”

“He only had a couple minutes head start.”

“Why don’t you just shut up?”

“Do I need to be on the line for this?”

“What the fuck is with you and the fucking ninja stars?”

“I bought in bulk, okay? Haven’t you ever had an impulse buy?”

“This can be easy. Just put down your weapons and come with me peacefully.”

“Has that ‘come with me peacefully’ crap ever worked?”

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, you were making empty threats and I was leaving.”

“You’re the one who kept making those ridiculous Star Wars jokes.”

“That’s why you’re an asshole.”

“I am never the asshole. Everyone else is the asshole.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

“They’re never going to be able to fix this suit. It’s finished, that’s it.”

“Ew, what are you doing?”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”

“His suits are not ridiculous!”

“Look what I did!”

“That’s my girl!”

“I believe I owe everyone here an explanation.”

“Can we start with how the hell you got into the CIA and when and have you ever shot anyone?”

“It was a dark and stormy night in Baton Rouge, I can give you everything your heart desires,’ the woman said to him, ‘All I require is your soul—’”

“You shut up! I am telling a story, okay?”

“We only hire the best.”

“This is a case for the CIA.”

“The CIA cannot even fathom what I’ve done to the world. I have greater access, greater control over information than they could ever hope for. The CIA can go fuck itself.”

“Would you two stop being such fucking immature assholes? We need as much manpower as possible.”

“This is more important than staying online for some fucking sixteen year old to complain about their curfew—”

“You have one hour of downtime. That’s it.”

“You’re sulking. Again. When you really have no reason to.”

“Ever heard of multitasking?”

“You are insane. Legally insane.”

“What’s so difficult about saying sorry and moving on?”

“I lied to him, took his heart in my hands and crushed it.”

“You lied to him, and he booted you from his life when he didn’t get the answers he wanted, and you told him he didn’t love you.”

“He ignored you, and you nagged him too much and he showed up late when you were supposed to meet.”

“Love is not a scorecard.”

“I’m supposed to take relationship advice from you?”

“I’m an excellent observer of the human condition.”

“Why is that everyone’s reaction when I tell them this?”

“Anyway. Take my advice. Pursue something you want. Someone you want.”

“He’s grown so well, hasn’t he?”

“Let them concentrate.”

“He failed to defend my honor.”

“We need more Red Bull. And Red Vines.”

“Maybe if everyone would shut up, we could actually do this.”

“Just, uh, let him cool off?”

“You’re shit at comforting, by the way.”

“I got Schnapps too.”

“History dictates that now is the time to panic.”

“Stop changing locations just to stall for a few fucking minutes and get to the point.”

“I hardly think you’re in any position to criticize me.”

“Oh, yes, because I’m always wrong, I know, I get it.”

“Why do you always have to push me past my breaking point, huh?”

“Does it make you feel superior to have that much control over me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re the one who’s been playing with me. For weeks.”

“Why the fuck won’t you look at me?”

“I’m fucking terrified, alright?”

“You’re the only person, the only thing that consistently terrifies me. You’re the only person who has this insane power over me.”

“You’re the one who showed up in your stupid suits with your stupid face and your stupid hair.”

“Do you have any idea how your ass looks in those pants?”

“You seduced me first.”

“Oh, oh, like you have no idea how attractive you are.”

“And seriously, thumb on lip. Not exactly subtle.”

“The last time we were together and I told you about what I felt—”

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“I wanted to know where this was going. Us. But I’m pretty sure it involves a bed in the near future so let’s continue, shall we?”

“Think with your upstairs brain for a moment.”

“This is really important. I don’t want to lose you again. Please.”

"You were right, we should think about this. We should break up, we're broken up. Bye.”

“Since when did you start listening?”

“What does all that even mean?”

“Shut up. I was trying to tell you how much I love you.”

“Love is such an ugly word.”

"We waited. Three hours. Give or take.”

“You have a strange fascination with my mouth.”

“We should have been doing that earlier. Years earlier.” A pause. “Like the night we met.”

“Shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Just because you give me orgasms now doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“As an insult, that was beneath your intelligence level.”

“Your occupation is becoming less and less interesting by the minute.”

“Congrats on the sex”.

“I think Mommy and Daddy are back together.”

“Why am I the mother?”

“You always say that darling and yet you never mean it.”

“I don’t take assurances from naked men.”

“You’re going to get a headache like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to roll my eyes if you’d stop making me.”

“Why are you pointing at me? What did I do?”

“Is anyone going to eat this cake? It’s made with my love. My love!”

“Why does she have issues with the Queen of England?”

“You have a lot in common. Both of you have a complete disregard for civil niceties.”

“If you hurt him again, I will destroy you.”

“If I hurt him again, you won’t have to destroy me.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of job where you put in your two weeks’ notice.”

“Ugh, did you just quote Star Wars to declare your love for each other?”

“We’re a day trip away. Day trips do not require souvenir.”

“We stayed overnight. Overnight means a gift.”

“We’re dysfunctional, like every good family.”

“Fine, play the family card.”

“What are you doing here? It’s four in the afternoon, shouldn’t you be at the office?”

“Do you really want to know or do you want me to lie?”

“Oh honey. You’ve always been this stupid. You’ve just never been this happy.”

“He’s really jealous and controls half of the modern world.”

“No biting, no scratching, no insulting each other’s mother unless they really deserve it.”

“We don’t pay you to eat ice cream.”

“I’m sure someone would be more than happy to pay me to eat ice cream.”

“Why aren’t you naked yet?”

“Why are you so hot when you’re fighting?”

“Why do you wear dress shirts for everything?”

“You could have borrowed one of my shirts.”

“So I don’t want to clean the bathroom with a hard on.”

“You get turned on by wearing my clothes?”

“Who even wears these things? And why do I need so many layers? Are we eating outdoors?”

“I thought you liked the idea of fashion.”

“I like the idea of being comfortable.”

“There wasn’t even a punchline.”

“I just had this shirt dry cleaned, you know.”

“I’m not going to pretend your aren’t easy.”

“Are you going to be there for him and man up and calm the fuck down, or are you going to panic and abandon him again?”

“Let me have a little fun, I’ll catch up with you in a couple minutes.”

“You’re making it very difficult not to shoot you.”

“I would listen to your boyfriend if I were you.”

“It’s much more fun seeing you panic over something outside of your control.”

“Why isn’t he saying he’s dying? He should be complaining loudly.”

“Shut up. You’re not giving me your dying words because you’re not dying.”

“I’m not going back to that. I’m not going to back a life without you.”

“Why am I not dead?”

“Idiots never die.”

“And no one gets coffee because you all broke your promise. These belong to me now.”

“You’re not going to drink six cups of coffee.”

“Please don’t challenge him on this.”

“I’m not talking to you. You should have told me that he was up. I’m drinking your coffee first.”

“It’s a hospital, not a school.”

“Children are not unheard of in public hospitals.”

“It wasn’t really a request.”

“And my answer wasn’t really negotiable.”

“I don’t barge into your meetings.”

“My job never tried to kill me.”

“Everything I do has a purpose.”

“You handled it. Not well, mind you, but successfully.”

“You’re leaving me again? Abandoning, abandoning us?”

“No, we had an agreement. You were supposed to quit.”

“They can fucking find someone else.”

“Not everything can go at your pace.”

“Mundane questions are my favorite kind.”

“My client would like you to stop digging into his activities.”

“Where does he get his dry cleaning done?”

“Are you in love with him?”

“What a tragic love story it is. The lonely genius and the rogue in denial.”

[floatingarrow]

journal: day 1

or night 1... whatever.

hopefully this is the year i seriously commit to things

i just want to be able to just account for everything i think and speak and experience and learn

sometimes i feel like i’m floating through life, unknowing

and it’s a pity party really, because i’ve been given enough hints, enough cheat codes if you will

yet here i am, still as lost as ever

then i think about what pema chodron had written, something about simply allowing yourself to occupy that middle ground between knowing and not knowing. that is where compassion begins. maybe even forgiveness

stop kneecapping your sentences. this is the year we say what we mean. today we prayed for courage, and may that courage see you through telling the truth in all things.

i was caught off guard by what king sent me. his audio messages. though i truly cannot deny their validity. and until now, the images of the swords that had appeared in my first reading for myself continue to plague me. plague seems awfully inappropriate, because really, it was a balm. it was the anchor i needed. funny how the sword represents the air element, yet it was their cards that gave me the strength and clarity to look at the situation. again, it gave me grounding. anyway, the sword cards that came up: the ace of swords and the page of swords.

the thing about the ace of swords is that it is supposed to represent this pure sword energy - a sudden burst of it. and all i could think about: i gotta tell king the fucking truth. i need to stop fucking blunting my words for his benefit, to the cost of myself. it doesn’t necessarily mean i’ll be mean or rude. but i need to start being honest. because really, what he said was true: what i say doesn’t align to what i do. and i needed that sharp wake up call. nevertheless, i will be honest. and it would be better for both him and me if i were to do that. i need to stop running away from these difficult conversations. i suddenly thought about that pema chodron quote again, something along the lines of what you’re experiencing will not leave you until you have learned the exact lesson you need to learn from it. and maybe, maybe king is still here, we’re still stuck in that same rut, because i still haven’t learned from it, and i need to take responsibility. sure, i can possibly pray on this, but i also need to act on this.

virgo north node - i keep recalling that this life is supposed to be about learning boundaries, but i also can’t help but think that this is also supposed to be a life of grounding, of learning to live in a world which i find subpar to my fantasies. because really, now that i think about it, what austere tells about me is true: i do prefer my fantasies over reality. i would literally forego watching the actual series for reading fanfiction about it instead, and the actual series is already fictional.

i have difficulty accepting what is, and maybe that’s one of the things i really need to learn.

in other news, i finally lit a candle and a pine cone today for brigid. i don’t think i was able to properly communicate with her, so i’ll do another attempt tomorrow morning, but nevertheless: there was something magical about that moment regardless. i just felt a sudden transmutation of energy, albeit subtle.

i need a kick in the ass it’s true. i deserve to talk with a goddess or deity who sasses me. 

oh shit another amazing epiphany earlier today: there is a difference between being nice and being kind. the thing is: i’m nice, but what i need and want to be is kind. niceness means just being nice for the sake of being liked or pleasing other people at the cost of your own self, but kindness - at its core you want to be kind to other people for kindness’ own sake, but also for your own. your kindness is deeply rooted in your love for yourself and your recognition in the oneness of the universe

anyway, i guess i was still quite terrified of connecting with a goddess. i feel like i’m going in circles. i wonder what has happened with the mindpower community. anyway,,, i think this ends my journal entry here. let’s go, day 1

[apicturewithasmile]

LOST rewatch (season 6)

[follow the entire rewatch-tag here]

episode 1 & 2 – LA X:

Desmond looking good as always

I don’t like the “the island is underwater” sequence. Such an obvious red herring.

“Why didn’t he fight back? Why did he let me just kill him?”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“We can go Dutch.”

Still not a fan of the Indiana Jones hippie temple

“I don’t like the way English tastes on my tongue.”

“You’re the monster.” – “Let’s not resort to name calling.”

STOP TALKING ABOUT MY BABY JOHN LIKE THAT!

episode 3 – What Kate Does:

GET CREEPY ETHAN OUT OF THERE!

It’s Claire Rousseau

episode 4 – The Substitute:

Okay this is when the real feels begin!

Helen, I love you!

I’d give a lot to be able to talk to Terry O’Quinn while he’s taking a bath tbh…

I feel for Richard

There it is… the weirdest damn funeral Frank Lapidus has ever been to

“John Locke was a believer, he was a man of faith, he was a much better man than I will ever be and I’m very sorry I murdered him.”

I cannot believe James just walked down this ladder of death

JOHN’S ABOUT TO MEET DR. LINUS!!!

“Tea? Now there’s a gentleman’s drink.”

episode 5 – Lighthouse:

Oh course…. Sideways Jack has a son, totally forgot that

I kinda… don’t give a frick about Jack and his son tbh – not that that’s a surprise

“That’s not John, this is my friend.”

episode 6 – Sundown:

Sideways Sayid looks sweet and cute whereas island Sayid just looks hot as fucking hell

Fucking Martin Keamy

Ben’s fucking terrified of Sayid

episode 7 – Dr. Linus:

Oh my God, it’s happening!

Dr. Linus is a beautiful human being

“It’s Dr. Linus, actually.”

“Taking care of the kids, that’s what’s important!”

I AM HERE FOR THE HIGHSCHOOL AU!!!

I love that sideways Ben can only fix up a microwave meal whereas island Ben cooks that mean ham

HIS GLASSES ARE SO SWEET, they make him look so kind and… not dangerous at all

Alex <3

A rare genuine smile from Benjamin friggin Linus!!!!

“Linus, you’re a real killer.”

Fuckin Smokey, stop using my children for your sick game!

Here’s comes the most emotional speech that’s ever happened on the entire show

“I watched my daughter Alex die in front of me and it was my fault. I had a chance to save her but I chose the island – over her. All in the name of Jacob. I sacrificed everything for him and he didn’t even care.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me because I can never forgive myself.”

Ben offering his help to Sun and Sun accepting it – HELP!!!

episode 8 – Recon:

The shirt Sawyer’s wearing looks like Richard’s shirt

I feel like Josh Holloway is less buff now than he was at the beginning of the show and I absolutely dig it!

“puppy dog eyes and a sad sunflower”

episode 9 – Ab Aeterno:

Fun story: the first time I watched Ab Aeterno was on Netflix and for some reason the subtitles didn’t work so throughout the entire episode I thought we weren’t supposed to understand the stuff that’s in Spanish

Ilana: So, Richard, what do we do next? – Richard: lol

His backstory is so tragic I’m gonna cry

Anyway, I know I say this about a lot of guys on LOST but… objectively speaking Nestor Carbonell is the most beautiful man on the whole show

I wonder if they’ve always planned for Richard to have come on the Black Rock

“It’s good to see you out of these chains.”

Titus Welliver has similar facial expressions to Terry O’Quinn which makes him perfect for playing the og Smokey

episode 10 – The Package:

Sun, my lovely wife

What is it with her and bumping her head against trees?

BEN FINDS HER!!!! I need Ben and Sun to be friends!!!!

I am so here for a Sun and Ben friendship. Give it to me now!!

I just remembered that Ben will kill Widmore and now I cannot wait!!!

Have I ever noticed that this is actual Mikhail Bakunin in the sideways?!?!

episode 11 – Happily Ever After:

Des, my bebe!!!

Of course Desmond is Charles Widmore’s protégé in the sideways

I love how Desmond’s sideways mission is to reunite everyone with the love of their lives

episode 12 – Everybody Loves Hugo:

Oh, Michael, of course, totally forgot about that

LIBBY MY DARLING!

Bye bye Ilana

Ben’s loyalty to Richard kills me

Dr. Linus protecting John Locke <3

episode 13 – The Last Recruit:

“John Locke was the only one of us who believed in this place.”

Ben going to the hospital with John <3

Season 6 Jack is really attractive

Wait… where’s Ben??

Jack really leaving Claire behind?!?!

Sun and Jin are reunited <3

episode 14 – The Candidate:

Honestly tho… Jack looks 10 times better and it’s all just because of that slight change of his hair style

I feel like I don’t have that much to say about season 6 because nothing really happens, like.. the island plot can pretty much be summed up in one sentence and the sideways are just fluff. I like the fluff but… well… to put it simple: there ain’t enough Ben fluff so I’m not that interested tbh

episode 15 – Across The Sea:

You know… it gets really hard to sympathise with Jacob after this episode. Not that I ever sympathised with him but… he just seems like the annoying dudebro in your modern literature seminar that just won’t shut the fuck up

“One day you can make up your own game and then everyone else will have to follow your rules.”

Mother: I made it so you can never hurt each other. – Jacob: *kills his brother*

Mother and Jacob pretending to love Smokey yet they never even bothered to give him a fucking name?!??!

episode 16 – What They Died For:

Ben hasn’t been on screen for three fucking episodes, where’s my murder cactus???

There’s Ben my bebe! Protecting his island husband!

And there’s Cusick’s miss-calculated punch that landed straight in Emerson’s pretty face

I cannot believe Ben remembers because Desmond is punching him

I kinda want more story surrounding Richard, Miles and Ben

Dr. Linus in the nurse’s office and John being soooo impressed

“Why would somebody hurt you? You’re like the nicest guy ever.”

DANIELLE!!!

I ship sideways Ben and Danielle very very much!!!

“You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had.” KILL ME!!!

Ben killing Widmore HELL YES!!!!

“He doesn’t get to save his daughter.”

ANA LUCIA!

episode 17 – The End:

Was Widmore the last person Ben kills? I can’t remember but I hope it is.

“Christian Shephard? Seriously?”

“This would be so sweet if we weren’t all about to die.”

JULIET!

“In case you haven’t noticed – I’m a pilot.”

SHANNON!!! I’ve missed you so much!

“You’re not John Locke. You disrespect his memory by wearing his face.”

Ben saving Hugo from the tree <3

YES KATE!!! “I saved you a bullet.”

The moment when John remembers hits me with very intense #feels

“If the island’s going down I’m going down with it.”

They cannot just mirror a shot of Michael Emerson and expect no one will notice

“I don’t believe in a lot of things but I do believe in duct tape.”

Sawyer and Juliet <3

“Ricky boy”

I always wonder if Jack turns into the new Smokey…. But like… a friendly Smokey.

NOT THE BEN IN FRONT OF THE CHURCH SCENE!!!

“Hello Benjamin.” FUUUUUUCK!

“I’m very sorry for what I did to you, John.”

“Well, if it helps, Ben, I forgive you.”

HURLEY ASKING BEN FOR HELP!!!

“Everybody dies sometime, kiddo.”

Christian LITERALLY says that everything that’s ever happened was real and somehow people still think they were dead the whole time????

Okay the final scene is so awesome tho

The fact that Vincent isn’t in the church can only mean that he is immortal

epilogue – The New Man In Charge:

YAAAASSSS!!!

This is how all of season 6 should have been like!

BEN LOOKS SO FUCKING HOT!!!!

The fact they transferred all the Dharma videos to DVD fills me with joy

“I’m genuinely sorry about that but what’s done is done. I can’t change the past. I can only take responsibility for it.”

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! give me season 7 all about how Hurley, Ben and Walt run the island!!!!