#today I just woke up and felt like painting romeo

[rainesjupiter]

World Friendship Day

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Parting Is such sweet sorrow

There was just over a week before Keanu was due to head home. He was browsing in the Round House Gallery on the Harbour front for gifts to take home - he’d already bought an oil painting of Tresco from there for himself, arranging for it to be shipped home.

At the counter, a flyer advertising a production of “Romeo and Juliet” being staged at the Minack theatre caught his eye – The Minack is a famed open air theatre carved into the dramatic clifftop above Porth Curno. He took a flyer back to the cottage and showed it to Kerry suggesting they get tickets.

The night arrived and, at her suggestion based on previous experience, they took a couple of cushions to sit on and a rug for their knees to guard against the cold as night fell. The weather is mild in Cornwall but it was still only late May and temperatures would drop as it’s still cool at night.

Before the start, they bought some hot Cornish pasties and a bottle of red to share. The wine came with little re-usable cups with a cute image of the theatre printed on them that they could take home afterward as a keepsake. With pasties eaten, it was time for the rug which Kerry tucked around them both and they settled down, knees pressed together, to enjoy the show. During the show, Kerry could see Keanu silently mouthing some of the lines, especially Mercutio’s - he explained during the interval that it had been one of his earliest roles, aged at 21 for the Leah Posluns Theatre in Ontario.

The show ended to rapturous applause under the spotlights and with the moonlight sparkling on the sea below it was really a breath-taking spectacle.

They lingered a little in their seats while the crowd made its way up the steps to the exit. When it had cleared a little Keanu suggested they take in the beach before heading back to Sennen. They had a little time before their taxi came which they’d booked knowing they’d be having a drink and that the Cornish roads at night did not favour a driver with even just one drink inside them!

They stood on the sand, gazing up at the cliffs and stars - Kerry was tilting her head back so much she nearly lost her balance! You could see the main constellations really clearly and it was fun to name them. Keanu was enthralled by her wonderment - she looked so beautiful gazing up at the midnight blue sky and the clifftop theatre, her face lit up by the moon. She shivered a little with the cold breeze off the sea and he took the rug from her hands and threw it around her. As he tucked it around her, they smiled at each other. Her eyes had a twinkle, one he recognised from their time in Tresco when they’d got a bit giggly drinking in the New Inn and he remembered the same look when he’d said goodnight to her after they’d got drunk in the pub at Sennen with her sister. Her guard was down and the affection she felt was clear in her eyes. He stepped closer to her, still holding the edges of the rug in each hand. A voice in his head said this was rash but he couldn’t help it. Scrunching the rug up and using it to pull her to him, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. His arms slipped around her and the kiss deepened but just as their tongues touched and he felt virtual fireworks going off in his head, she pulled away, pushing on his chest and breaking their kiss.

Swallowing thickly and clearly holding back tears, she blurted out:

“No stop, we can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t - you’re going home soon and this, this will make it hurt even more”

She looked down at her feet, shoulders slumped, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I know shouldn’t have done that, it’s just, God, you’re so beautiful tonight and I feel so much for you and it all just came spilling out, you know, in the moment.”

She took his hand in hers, softly rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

“Thank you” She sighed heavily “I feel so much for you too - just protecting my poor old heart I guess.”

He nodded, his expression as sad and wistful as hers. They were quiet on the climb back up to the car park from the beach. It was steep and a bit treacherous in the dark so she relented on one aspect of physical closeness and let him hold her hand up the path, dropping it when they got to the car park where the taxi was just pulling in. On the way back to Sennen she took the front seat and he the back. Keanu cursed himself for his impetuousness whilst also pondering that it had surely been a long time since a kiss had made him feel something so intensely. Once back in Sennen they said their goodnights with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Keanu slept terribly, tossing and turning all night, dreaming of Kerry, of kissing her, of Kerry naked rising and falling above him, taking him inside her, her hair cascading over her shoulders. He woke with a start, grateful he hadn’t had a wet dream, then relieved his pent-up lust in his morning shower, pressing his head against the glass after he’d cum, finally letting tears of regret fall.

For the next two days, he didn’t see Kerry at all. Usually, they saw each other every day somehow or other but she was obviously avoiding him – he guessed she was taking Scout for super early walks knowing he wasn’t a naturally early riser.

On the third day and his last in Cornwall, he set an alarm for 6 AM and listened out for her leaving the house, then scrambled to get dressed and head out himself. He looked down the beach and could see she’d gone that way today so he’d be able to catch her up or meet her on the return leg of the walk. He had to apologise for the kiss.

In the end, he caught up on the outward leg as she’d stopped by the shore to let Scout run in and out of the waves and was just staring out to sea.

“Hey there!” he called.

“Hey” she said, her voice expressing her surprise.

“You’ve been avoiding me” he stated “So I set an alarm to make sure I could speak with you. Listen Kerry, about the other night. I’m so sorry, I know it was stupid and I’m sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you – I was just so caught up in the moment, the beauty of it all. The play, the moonlight, the sea and the stars.”

“I know, and I know you’d never hurt me. You’re too kind for that” she smiled but it was with sad eyes.

“And I should be saying sorry too, for sneaking around avoiding you. I’ve been a coward. And I promised myself I would stop that behaviour, you know, after the divorce. I said I’d be true to myself and honest with people and I need to stick to it.”

Up to this point Kerry had been mainly looking down, almost talking to herself but now she drew in a shaky breath and looked him in the eye.

“I could fall, no let’s face it, I am falling in love with you and I know there’s no future for us and a fling or a one nighter would be wonderful in the moment but would just be too painful in the end so that’s why I’ve avoided you! And I’m sorry for that, there I’ve said it now”

She blew out another long breath and let her shoulders droop, relieved to have said her piece.

Keanu was taken aback. Half thrilled and half devastated. Why did this have to happen now and here, over 7000 miles from his home?

“I’m falling in love with you too” he said quietly, sadly “but you’re right my life’s back there in LA. I have to go, I have commitments ……….. meetings, another location shoot. I’m sorry.”

She moved closer, took his hand and kissed it.

“Just one of those things, huh?”

He nodded and pulled her into a bear hug, she pressed her face against his heart which he knew was beating a little faster than usual.

“Come on let’s go walk it off, up on the cliffs, let the fresh air clear our heads.” he suggested.

They headed off up the beach and onto the coast path towards Lands End. They walked mostly in silence, each thinking about what was around the corner for them, each heartsore that the other wasn’t part of their futures.

“You know, I’d like to stay in touch” Kerry offered as they paused for a while on the path when Scout went scurrying off after spotting a rabbit.

“I’d like that too” he paused “but maybe not too much, too soon, you know. I guess we both need some space to let this be a friendship we cherish and not something that makes us sad.

“deal” she said sticking her hand out to shake on it.

“deal” he smiled back but like hers, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

The next day, Keanu left for home. She came into the cottage to tell him the taxi was out front.

They shared a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll keep in touch yeah?” he said.

“Yeah but remember not too much, no mooning!”

He laughed

“I’ll have you know I’m a veteran mooner” and he turned away from her pretending he was going to do the other kind of mooning, making her laugh. At least that broke the tension and he picked up his canvas hold all and his carry-on bag and with that, he was gone.

@fortheloveoffanfic@ladyreapermc@paperplanesandwallflowers@toomanystoriessolittletime@omg-imagine@fics-not-tragedies@ficsnroses@keanureevesisbae

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 7

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 7

NEXT!

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She was maybe the second person to learn the truth behind his name. Damian means to tame and his mother named him that because he was ultimate proof that she tamed The Bat. He expected her to laugh, but instead she pulled him into a hug to comfort him. He also revealed that he loved painting and went as far as to sketch her. She was happy to pose as long as he in turn allowed her to take measurements. 

Marinette brought out what was best in him and he would be damned if he let her just suffer in silence. 

Marinette was so tired that she found herself unable to sleep. This day was so full of emotions: both good and bad. 

When she first met Damian, back at the temple, he was rather cold and indifferent. He struck her as selfish even. But he was also dead honest and very serious about his loyalty. He even stabbed his own brother to defend her honor. Okay, after spending the day with him she was pretty convinced he would stab him for some more meager reason, but it was still… cute in some strange way. Nobody has ever done something like this before. Even Chat Noir never stabbed anyone to defend her honor. Hit on the head with a baton? Sure. But never stab. And he threatened Lila. Marinette was unsure if he wouldn’t actually follow up on his threat. 

The date she went on was great. She felt the freedom unlike ever before. She knew she could tell him anything since they already knew each others’ greatest secrets. She could freely tell him about her adventures as Ladybug. And he was also quite handsome when he smiled. Not that he wasn’t when he was not smiling, but she liked his smile. His actual smile not the malicious grin he often wore. Damian played the cold and closed mean guy, but he was actually quite soft. He loved animals and painting. He even wanted to sketch her! Damian was yet very grounded person. He had this no-nonsense aura around himself. But he was patient enough to endure with her small panic attacks. She remembered his gentle touch on  her hands. His words of encouragement. And his deep green eyes. They were two whirlpools of emerald. So majestic, yet so caring. With that image imprinted on her mind she finally fell asleep. Her dreams were undisturbed by a knocking on her window.

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Next day Marinette woke up still tired, but in much better mood. She was ready for school. Well, good for her since she was almost late like usual. In panic, she quickly grabbed her purse and was about to run downstairs when Tikki flew in front of her.

“Marinette! Aren’t you forgetting something?” The girl looked around and didn’t catch what Kwami ment. “Your clothes!” Marinette looked down and saw she was still in her pijama. In record time she managed to dress up and was about to run downstairs when Tikki stopped her again. “Backpack?” Once again Marinette rushed to grab her things and get down and not get late. Her parents were already waiting for her in the bakery. 

“Here is your breakfast cherie.” Her mother smiled handing her a box of pastries. 

“And here is something special for you to share with your boy.” Her father smiled and handed her a box of macaroons. They both had a smile.

“And remember Mari. If he hurts you, just say a word and I will break his every bone into dozen pieces.” Her mother gave her most prominent smile ever. Somehow, it made the threat even more real.

“I will maman. Bye papa! Bye maman!” Marinette shouted and run away before they offered more ‘help’. She loved them, but after yesterday’s evening she was not sure she would allow them to meet Damian any times soon. She couldn’t protect him forever, seeing as he was technically her husband, but she could at least give them some time to get used to the idea of her dating someone. Maybe once Hawkmoth was gone. She did not want to have to escape from another thorny prison. Or maybe after the trip to gotham. They should be happy to see her back that they might not outright kill him for marrying her without their knowledge. She fully planned on telling them everything once there was no threat looming over their heads. Marinette giggled imagining Talia facing her mother. It was funny that somehow the confrontation would always go in favor of Sabine. 

She barged into class almost right when the bell rang. None of her classmates cared enough to even batch an eye at her. She did notice Damian in the back and made her way to him.

“I swear… If that harlot tries telling another lie about me or my family, I will not even need the bleacher. They will never know where to look in the first place.” He growled.

“What did she say?” Marinette grasped. While Damian had a soft side, she also knew he would not hesitate to stab her, making it look like a nasty incident. 

“She kept babbling about how she knows the Waynes and She and Me have an on and off ‘thing’ and probably this whole trip is because we had a fight and now I want to apologize that way.” His hand twitched dangerously close to his sword. Why did he bring the sword today?

“I can’t let you just stab her. And it’s not like you can convince any of them change their minds that way.” Marinette placed her hand over his, at the same time making sure it would make it harder for him to grab the sword if he heard something more from Lila. “Here. My parents made them for us.” She opened the box of macaroons. 

“I am not a fan of sweets.” He answered, but with relief she noticed he stopped glaring daggers at Lila. 

“Then try this one.” She pointed to the yellow one. “It’s made with a bit of lemon juice to add more sourness.”

Damian reluctantly picked the treat and took a bite. Suddenly, the corners of his lips went up. She proudly watched the ‘ice prince’ smile at something so common as a macaroon. “This is a very good macaroon. I am sure it could rival whatever Alfred makes.” He exclaimed, trying not to sound overly excited.

“Somehow I feel like this is better compliment than when Uncle Jagged offered to write a song about my parents’ bakery…” She giggled. Damian looked at her stumped. She only giggled again. “You should’ve seen how Tim reacted when he heard. Suddenly next day Wayne enterprises ordered catering for the whole building. Apparently the CEO wanted to celebrate some deal. I am not sure if any worker besides Tim saw the pastries though.” 

“Knowing him? I have no idea. If it was Jason or Dick, they wouldn’t even make it to the building before this morons ate it all.” Then, a dark realization dawned on Damian. “Was by any chance a blonde with him when they picked up the order?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I was at school when it happened. Why?” 

Damian groaned. He should have connected the dots sooner. Brown was suddenly not hanging in the mansion twenty-four/seven and she was not seen on patrols. Father said that he was aware of her location. “If Brown is here too, then I am almost sure this pastries didn’t make it. And she might be causing a sudden jump in the bakery’s revenue.”

“Huh?” Marinette wasn’t following.

“Stephanie Brown is Drake’s girlfriend. Saying she has a sweet tooth is understatement of the century. More of a sweet jaw if you ask me. She can smell sweets from mile and always get there before you. Especially when Alfred is baking. And she can rival Cass in her stealth skill when it comes to stealing them.” Damian explained to Marinette and watched her stiffen another giggle. What was it with girls and giggling? But Damian had to admit Marinette looked cute when she did. Slow down Romeo or you will crash into a stop sign.

“Well then. I will be happy to bake her something. But Tim didn’t mention her.”

“He said he is running his independent investigation, so I assume you do not see him often?”

“Yeah. He is quite busy at the office. Isn’t he missing the school though?”

“Drake is seventeen and already has three P.H.D. He goes to school either to hang out with his less intelligent friends or to argue with the underpaid teachers by pointing every mistake and inaccuracy.” 

“Sounds like fun.” The mention of the teacher suddenly made Marinette aware that Madame Bustier was nowhere to be seen. “We’ve been sitting here for almost twenty minutes now. Maybe I will go check for her…” Marinette suggested more to herself than Damian. She was about to stand up when Madame Bustier walked into the class with Chloe following her. Only now anyone noticed that the blonde was gone. 

“Children. Chloe wanted to say something to all of you.” The teacher started.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize for my utterly ridiculous behavior in the past and hope that you will give me chance to earn forgiveness from the better part of you.” Chloe stated nonchalantly.

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[rosedavid]

hi! can you please write a fic where tj tries to teach cyrus to play basketball but he gets a little hurt, so tj patches him up? thanks!

i liked writing this prompt, so thank you so much! :) it ended up kind of angsty, but also sweet and fluffy. I hope you enjoy!!

Basketball Daze

“I want to learn how to play basketball,” Cyrus declares all the sudden.

TJ lifts himself up from his previous position against Cyrus’s chest with a grumble of objection. As he props his elbow underneath him to get a better look at Cyrus, his blonde hair flops across his forehead. His face is red and textured from laying against Cyrus’s shirt. In other words, to Cyrus, he’s never looked cuter.

TJ frowns, “Basketball? What brought that on? I thought you hated any sort of physical activity.”

Cyrus sighs, swinging his legs off the bed to go and splay the curtains away from the window. Sunlight bursts throughout the room. The intensity causes TJ to squint and flop back down onto the bed with a tired groan.

“We could just stay here and cuddle more,” TJ whines, burying his head into Cyrus’s pillow.

“We’re wasting this beautiful, sunny day!” Cyrus responds. “Also, we live in Shadyside, so who knows how long it will last.” 

When TJ makes no effort to move, Cyrus comes over to tug his wrist insistently. “Come on, Teej, you’ve been wanting to teach me how to play forever, right?”

“Yeah,” TJ agrees, finally sitting upright with Cyrus’s help. “I guess I’m just confused as to why today of all days you’re so persistent.”

Cyrus shrugs, “Why not? I’m feeling peppy today, and my legs were getting restless laying there.”

TJ struggles to stand up, tripping over his own feet a few times. “Wait, you weren’t sleeping? Were you just watching me sleep?!”

“Maybe…” he trails off, cheeks reddening as he goes to defend himself. “You just look so soft and peaceful when you sleep!”

TJ tosses a pair of sneakers to him in response, but Cyrus can see the obvious blush he attempts to hide. He grins, still not over the fact that he makes TJ Kippen blush like that. It’s just another amazing privilege that comes with being his boyfriend. Honestly, sometimes it just all feels too good to be true. After they confessed to each other on the bench at Andi’s party, Cyrus walked home in a daze. When he woke up the next morning, he remembers frantically texting TJ to make sure it wasn’t all just a crazy fever dream.

Now, the two of them have fallen into a nice rhythm. After the few weeks of awkwardness that comes with any new relationship, they quickly began to figure things out. Both of them know each other’s schedules by heart at this point, so much so that they’ll meet each other outside of their classroom doors. Cyrus always comes to TJ’s practices when he can, and TJ makes sure to help Cyrus find inspiration for his creative writing course. Then, after school, they’ll either hang out by themselves or with their friends if they can. Weekends, though, are Cyrus’s favorite. Not only is there no school, but him and TJ always try to plan a date night during the weekend. Usually it’s nothing fancy, but it’s always just the two of them. They soon become the highlight of Cyrus’s week.

“Come on Romeo,” TJ comments, “Let’s get going! I always keep a spare basketball in my backpack.”

Cyrus starts laughing, but stops when he sees the serious expression on TJ’s face.

“Wait, seriously?!”

A confused expression pops up on TJ’s face. “Yes seriously!”

Unable to hold back, Cyrus starts snickering again, “TJ…”

“Don’t ‘TJ’ me! Not when you keep winter gloves and hats in your bag constantly.”

“You never know when you could need them!”

“Cy…it’s May.”

“My point still stands. Did you know once it snowed during a week in August, which is typically the hottest time of the year in Shadyside?”

TJ smiles, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Cyrus’s head.

“You’re so smart,” he says, “and adorable.”

Once more, a blush heats up Cyrus’s face, this time spreading to the tips of his ears. Before he can get even more red, he grabs his bag and pulls TJ out the door with him.

They decide to walk to the park since Cyrus’s house has no sort of basketball hoop (of course), and TJ’s house is further away. Sure enough, the sunlight spreads across them. The sky is so blue it looks like a swatch of blue paint you find at a home improvement store. The air smells like cotton and blossoming flowers. Although the telltale signs of spring linger everywhere, the tops of the mountains remain capped with snow.

When they arrive at the outdoor basketball courts, there’s hardly anyone else there. Cyrus sighs in relief, grateful that no one will see him utterly fail at basketball, but he has to at least try. Honestly, Cyrus thought he’d just be able to ignore the comments. There aren’t many, nor are they usually stated cruel or outright, but Cyrus knows what they mean.

“Oh, this is your boyfriend! He doesn’t look like a sports guy.”

“Cyrus, good to see you again. We’d invite you to come, but we know you can’t do this kind of stuff.”

“You should really learn some more about sports since TJ is so interested in them.”

“Us basketball guys love to talk sports with each other all the time when we hang out. What do you two do?”

Cyrus knows that he isn’t the type of guy a person like TJ would normally go for. In fact, Cyrus has been doubting himself a lot more recently. Maybe it’s because of the comments, but what if the comments are right? What if it’s a good thing that he heard them? After all, TJ seems to try and urge him to do more sporty things a lot more now than he used to. What if TJ wants someone who can talk and play sports with him?

So today, when Cyrus’s was awake with his thoughts, hand running through TJ’s hair, he made up his mind. He needs to learn to play basketball because he can’t lose this. He can’t lose one of the best things to ever happen to him.

“Okay, I’m going to teach you how to shoot today,” TJ begins, pulling out a fully inflated basketball from his bag just like he said.

TJ bounces the ball a few times. Meanwhile, Cyrus watches in awe as he dribbles without thinking. Making sure Cyrus is watching, TJ shoots the ball from where he stands. Not only is it a far distance, but it goes in without even hitting the rim. A perfect shot, as Buffy once told him.

“How are you so good?” Cyrus asks genuinely.

“I’m really not that good,” TJ answers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, anyone can get good with enough practice!”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

TJ smiles softly, picking up the ball from the spot it rolled to. He comes up to Cyrus, handing him the ball. Cyrus stares at it, trying to mimic TJ’s position. Of course, he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. TJ reaches behind him to adjust his hand position and stance. At this spot on the court, the basket is pretty close, but Cyrus still doesn’t know if he has enough strength to make it.

“Use this arm to shoot. The other arm is just for support,” TJ explains.

Once TJ gets him in the correct position, he steps back so Cyrus can try shooting. Cyrus has never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He never realized just how complex shooting a single basket could be, yet all of these players can do it in seconds. Shakily, Cyrus shoots with all his strength, not really thinking about aim. He stumbles back after he throws it.

The basketball soars straight past the net. At least it was high enough. Cyrus looks over his shoulder worriedly at TJ, gnawing his lip. Luckily, TJ doesn’t look upset, he simply jogs after the stray ball and picks it up from the grass.

“That was good for your first try!” TJ says, handing the ball back to him. “Let me show you how to aim better, though.”

They spend the next half hour trying to get Cyrus to shoot a basket. Cyrus feels like a lost cause at one point. Although TJ is patient with him, Cyrus thinks he can even see TJ wearing thin with Cyrus missing shot after shot. Every time Cyrus fails, he feels more frustrated with himself. Soon, he’s just shooting randomly with all his strength, hoping that he can get it in the basket by pure chance.

“Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” TJ suggests.

Sweat beads across Cyrus’s brow. He reaches to wipe it off with the back of his hand. The anger that’s been building in him courses through his bloodstream. He shakes his head, snatching the ball out of TJ’s grasp.

“No, I have to do this,” Cyrus argues, getting in position once more to shoot the ball.

TJ sighs, stepping forward, “Cy, you’re exhausted, and it’s hot out. It’s alright, you’ll be better with a fresh head tomorrow.”

He reaches for the ball, but Cyrus jerks away.

“I need to do this today!” Cyrus shouts. “I have to get this right.”

“Please, Cyrus—”

So fueled by his anger, Cyrus rips the ball away from TJ again and throws it at the basket as hard as he can. In doing so, though, he ends up tripping over his own feet from the force. TJ tries to catch him but can’t grab him in time. Cyrus falls hard onto the court, elbows and knees skidding across the pavement and chin bumping the ground.

Stinging pain erupts after he falls. His tongue tastes like blood. He must have bitten it. His chin throbs, and his elbows and knees burn angrily.

“Oh my god!” TJ gasps, kneeling by his side. ���Are you okay?”

With all of his emotions and now the pain, Cyrus becomes overwhelmed. Before he can help it, tears start dripping down his cheeks and landing on the court below.

“Come here,” TJ whispers comfortingly, tugging Cyrus up into a sitting position.

He wraps his arms around the crying boy and tucks him into his chest, careful to mind Cyrus’s injuries. Cyrus bunches his fists in the fabric of TJ’s shirt and cries softly. Meanwhile, TJ just holds him close and rocks him gently, one hand running up and down his back to help soothe him. On the pavement below them, he sees splotches of Cyrus’s blood.

“Hey, hey,” TJ shushes. “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus pulls back with a sniffle. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid! Please, just tell me. I know it’s not just your scrapes.”

Cyrus nods, going to stand up, but he winces and his knee buckles. TJ makes sure to catch him this time before he clips the pavement again. Shakily, Cyrus regains his balance. He glances down at his arms and legs. Both his knees and elbows are torn apart, blood slowly trickling from the wounds. His touches his chin; it isn’t bleeding, but he has a feeling there will be a mark.

“Let’s talk about this after we get you patched up, okay?” TJ confirms.

Although his wounds sting, Cyrus can walk to his house with not many issues. TJ hovers close behind just in case. When they finally make it back, TJ immediately pushes Cyrus down on the sofa while he goes to scavenge Cyrus’s house for a first aid kit. Of course, since it’s Cyrus, the first aid kit isn’t difficult to find. He rushes back downstairs with it and sits beside him.

“I need to clean them,” TJ says, taking Cyrus’s leg and putting it in his lap.

Then, he gingerly begins wiping at his scrapes with antibacterial wash. Cyrus jerks at the burning sensation.

“I’m sorry, but we have to make sure it doesn’t get infected,” TJ apologizes.

“It’s ok.”

After the worst part is over, TJ begins applying Neosporin and bandaging his wounds up. While he’s doing this, Cyrus stares vacantly at the wall.

“What’s going on?” TJ wonders. “I’m worried about you.”

Cyrus sighs. “I just…a few people at school have said some things, and it made me realize that I’m not sporty in the least bit. Like, you love basketball and other sports, but I can’t even understand what’s going on. Any type of physical activity I can’t even do, really. And I don’t know, it just made me feel guilty because you deserve to date someone who you can do that kind of stuff with since you like it.”

TJ frowns, scooting in closer to Cyrus’s side. He meets Cyrus’s eyes and reaches over to cup his face with one hand.

“Cyrus, I may like sports, but I also like you. I have plenty of people to talk sports stuff with. So many, in fact, that it can get annoying. Plus, I love doing other stuff with you, no matter what it is. We could just sit in complete silence and do our homework, and I’d like it because you’d be there. You don’t need to try and impress me by trying to be a pro basketball player. That’s not who you are, and that’s okay, because I like Cyrus Goodman for who he is.”

“Really?” Cyrus asks shyly, tilting his face downward.

TJ puts a finger under his chin to tilt it back up. “Really.”

Then, TJ brings him into a gentle kiss, lips brushing. Cyrus melts into the kiss, moving his arm to wrap around TJ’s back.

Maybe basketball isn’t meant for Cyrus, but TJ certainly is.

[thesalemsaga]

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 - 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀.

there was a twinge of pain erupting from her lower back as she awoke.

falling asleep on your desk is hardly the wise option, although one glance at the sea of papers she laid in, and you might even understand it. and if you knew the drive of seren armsend, it is that the girl with the sunny hair never gave up until all of her fuel was burnt out.

for six cold hours, she slept with her head rested against her arms, which were now growing so numb she felt that the blood had frozen and failed to rush through. her first waking breaths were startled, the panic that settles when you awake in a strange location, outside of the comforts of your bed and your blankets.

her head rose, tired eyes seeing smudged words in black ink and her fingers coated ebony and red from the energy she put into writing these letters last night. in the end, she couldn’t finish them, and everything hurt. she would do a useless job if she were to try again.

in her wake, her orange hair fell from the grips of a pin and fell down her back, tickling her skin which had grown cold over the night. her teeth shattered, breath trembled, and so she quickly moved to find a sense of warmth. it took a moment to notice the sun pouring through the windows, hiding behind dark curtains which seren threw open with all her might.

her heart was palpitating, like it does when a special day has arrived, one which you’ve been awaiting for quite a long time. her thoughts moving slow, barely awake, seren didn’t realize what it was until she went over to her desk once more and saw something which was not there before.

a card, and a wooden butterfly.

a knock came from the door, and after a few seconds of silence, it opened. her father stepped in, the respected headmaster who also held a gift box in his hands. his smile, rarely seen, was instantaneous when he spotted his daughter looking so curiously at him.

“ hardly how i expected to see the birthday girl today. ”

he carried himself over, limping with his cane in hand, and stood in front of his daughter. over the years, she had grown slightly taller than him. and especially after what she saw and fronted given her adventure, he felt as if she was fifty feet tall. he could see it in her posture, her eyes. yet sweet seren remained sweet, sugar-sweet.

“ sorry, i just woke up ”, seren mumbled through a sleepy hazy, gathering her thoughts to realize she was turning nineteen today. nineteen years on this earth and it felt like she had mentally aged five years since she returned from beyond the walls. “ did you get anything from mom? ”.

“ actually, this is from her. ”

the woman who has been absent from seren’s life for many years often still had time to send her a gift but it didn’t come with every birthday. it was no wonder seren thought her father was kidding as he handed her the wrapped gift and told her to go get dressed.

as he moved towards the door, seren’s curiosity peaked. “ she said she would be in india this month. or at least, that’s what i was told from . . . the letter. ” notes from mrs. armsend were rare, and seren kept an entire collection within an old shoe box she keeps under her bed. the february letter was her most recent one, a clear white envelope stacked with others in yellow and brown.

“ i’m not sure. still, she had time to send you a gift. oh, mine is on the kitchen table. hurry up and get dressed or you’ll be late! ”.

“ l-late for what? ”.

the response never came, seren was left in her room, clutching the wrapped present, turning it in her hands and shaking it to hear a rattle, for clues of what it could be. it didn’t dawn on her that she could open it, it was her birthday after all.

she went to her bed, sitting on the edge and with a wavering sigh, ripped the present open. usually she would take her time, it would drive her father mad, but given how difficult it is to wrap presents, she didn’t want to make a mess.

what was revealed from the box was a gift seren wasn’t quite expecting. usually her mother would sent trinkets, small things to remind the girl that her mother was always thinking of her. last year it was a pair of tap-dancing shoes, seren’s old tap dancing shoes from when she was a kid.

this year, it was a sweater. and it smelled nice.

‘ it’s washed, don’t worry. thought it would fit you, ’ read her mother’s note.

knitted with beige wool and smelling like her mother’s flower garden. seren felt as if it was the first proper gift she had gotten in a long time and that is not to insult her mother’s tastes. it was the first gift that one could say meant a lot to a girl who hasn’t seen her mother in over seven years.

she held the sweater to her chest, almost as if to grasp and hold the woman she misses dearly. she missed her by an inch when she was beyond the walls, they were a week apart from meeting, but salem’s downfall called and seren couldn’t stay for too long.

seren’s eyes, blue and curious, moved to the desk where she had first seen the clues related to her birthday. the wooden butterfly, carved carefully as if the artist molded it with the hands of a god. and she knew alexander rather well, he was not one to do something half-assed.

a blue monarch, painted blue and thin to the point where you might not even recognize it to be a mere illustration of the animal. jewels glued into the wings, glinting under sunlight and bringing a smile to seren’s lips. she was yet to open up the letter, figuring she would collect them through the day and open them when she’s tucked back into bed.

it was only through looking at that butterfly that seren realized what she was late for.

and like a burst in the wind, she threw on casual clothes along with her mother’s sweater, braiding her hair quickly on her way down the stairs and apologised quickly to the maids for getting in their way. “ dad, you could’ve woken me up sooner! or like, had martha come wake me up with a bucket of cold water! ”, she whined.

“ sorry, love! but i was quite distracted myself. don’t forget your gift! ”.

as the headmaster, he had a lot of things to do and seren tried to star clear from his path. she quickly swung back and took the gift box, it wasn’t that big but it didn’t matter, but it was heavy, it left her confused at first, to the point where she turned to her father to ask him what was inside. but one glance at the time and she made haste out of the room.

the walls of valhalla weren’t bleak this time around. a tuesday morning in the midst of mid-term vacation, she wasn’t expecting to see any students. most would’ve taken the train down to the capital and spent time with their family. some may have even paid a fortune to be flown out beyond the walls, which, believe it or not, were actually being deconstructed.

seren squealed slightly as she slid, just barely missing the turn to head up the stairs to the cafeteria. she hated being late, tying it in with being disorganized and messy and she liked to think of herself as anything but that. she couldn’t be late for a birthday celebration, especially knowing who would be there.

she burst through the cafeteria louder than she was expecting, gaining some attentions of students who looked over their shoulders and shook their heads with distaste yet the girl carried on walking. until her table was visible in the corner, just by the exit, near to the tall glass windows.

a pair of excited eyes stared back at her. perseus’s eyes. met with romeo’s excited cheer as he stood up and ran towards her for a hug, which she fully accepted. only, the impact was a little worse than she was expecting.

“ happy birthday, girlie! look at that braid-- do you need help finishing it? ”.

seren chuckled softly, pulling back from the warm hug, “ i’ll do it, don’t worry. and thank you. hardly feels like i’m turning old today. ”

“ have you cried yet? ”, perseus asked, gaining a minor head tilt from the redhead. “ no? oh, just me, then. i don’t know, i normally get emotional when it’s my birthday. it’s either due to pure sadness or gratitude. ”

evangelos grunted beside him, dressed rather gloomily for such a pleasant spring day. “ from now on, it’ll be of gratitude. no use being sad when we have an entire world out there to explore ”, he pointed out, bringing his arm under the table and then putting something on top for seren to see, a gift box. “ gifts out, gentlemen. ”

seren sat in between alexander and romeo. alexander was rather quiet today, more quiet than usual. she didn’t hear a peep from him until she nudged him slightly and smiled at his curious, innocent eyes. “ happy birthday, freckles. i hope my gift is being taken care of ”, he uttered.

and seren thought back to the blue butterfly and beamed gently. it was in her room, on her desk, perched in between her pencil case and her portraits. three portraits; of herself and her sister, of herself and her mother, and of herself and these gaggle of idiots.

“ you bet it is. ”

the table, previously barren and rid of any rubbish, found itself covered in a sea of colored wrapping papers, so many colors it made seren’s eyes hurt but not as much as the gifts which were brought forward, some so beautiful that choking back the tears was proven harder than facing salem.

and as the commemorations went on around her, the birthday girl merely observed her treasures in silence.

seren gazed lovingly at the glass rose, watching the flow of stunning lights filtering through it like fairies dancing from within, and if she was not careful, she could fall into a hypnotic trance. it reminded her so faintly of her snow globe from her early childhood, a fragment of a memory revived in a glass rose given to her by someone she never took for a romantic, even if his name would suggest otherwise.

navy eyes fell onto the gift beside it, perseus’s creation. a caricature, a rather comic one, too. seren pinched her lips together and smiled sadly. although the image of her sister never ceased in her mind, nothing beat seeing her in a physical sense, even if it was the size of a figurine. yet what mattered was the love that was invoked out of her, overflowing. her sister’s magical hair and eyes, chasing a butterfly in a field.

to avoid crying, seren then stared at a gift of an absent member. or at least he said he would meet them at the town square later. levi’s love of the hunt and liking to the crafts of man led to the gift seren wasn’t expecting, but loved regardless. concealed in a glass case, a frozen dagger, quite literally wrapped in layers of ice and fog that gave it an almost clear appearance. an ancient craft, a rare, cultural gift. seren smiled, though, wondering what might’ve caused levi’s love of knives so much.

in her arms, she held kailen’s present, wondering where the boy was at the same time. an album, composed of pictures they’d gathered over the months, from the adventure all the way to now, to just yesterday, where they had some fun at the beach. she would open the album and gloss often the dozen pages. so many memories, many which she kept close to her heart. kailen’s paternal instincts breezed with this gift, leaving seren feeling safe.

and the final gift, a bow. a simple, wooden box around the size of her small hands but it contained the most stunning gift of all; music. evan had sharp ears, knowing a song which would bring seren peace, and threw it into a music box, and when she opened, revealed engravings onto the wood of the lid, and as she spun the wheel and let the song play, she would think of those blue memories from their adventures, up until now.

seren felt delicate fingers through her hair, sensing a bow being tied to her braid by kailen’s hands. “ we hope you like it. took a while to choose each gift but the result was good, by the looks of things ”, was he referring to how seren was struggling to keep the tears at bay?

she sniffled, chuckling sweetly. “ they’re perfect. it’s just . . . the first time i’ve felt happy on my birthday. and it’s thanks to you idiots ”.

“ we’re not idiots! we just care a lot about you ”, perseus squeaked, reaching over and flicking her chin playfully. “ cheer up, pinkie. you still have to deal with us idiots till the end of the day. it’ll be magical, we promise. ”

with that, seren smiled. they didn’t even realize it, that every moment with them was magical. and that she was happy so long as she had them.

she owed the blue memories to these silly boys. these silly, but special boys.

[swordedfool]

kisses w all the guys pls ill cry

kisses? sure !!

         ⌜ ☼ ⌟   ―――   𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼

the waves were particularly pristine that night. having visited the beach earlier that day, romeo was tired out. but it didn’t mean his heart wasn’t doing cartwheels in his chest because of the person walking beside him. she was totally oblivious to the way his eyes practically formed hearts in direction, aloof to how she looked under the moonlight, and clueless to how she made him feel in general. romeo’s advances on seren had always been met with a laugh or a shrug or a giggle, always taking it for a joke. at that point, he had grown rather used to it. but it didn’t stop him from wishing that she would take him seriously, that she would give him a chance. the problem he found was that his words often lose their meaning in the way he says it. maybe it was why he was particularly quiet tonight. and she noticed.

“ you’re awfully quiet. are you alright? ”.

her concern towards others always blew him away. and what rendered him quiet was the fact that she hardly asked him whether he was alright. but that was mostly because he pretended to be okay, brushed off an injury like a simple graze, smiled through any ache in his chest. hearing her ask that question she’s heard her ask the others a dozen times was not good for him. it just made his heart clench more.

romeo chuckled and nodded, “ sure. just a bit tired, that’s all. mind if go sit down for a bit? my legs are tired. ” receiving a nod, he led them to a nearby bench. it reminded him briefly of their first proper conversation in the school outdoor yard, sitting under a blue sky, talking about her plans to put together a team. it felt like a long time since then.

immediately after taking his seat, he noticed the girl beside him move to fix her bow. shifting over, he drew the distance between them smaller and immediately reached towards her hair and caressed it gently, moving her fingers away and fixing the bow himself. “ oh, thank you. i just can’t seem to get it to stay still lately ”, seren grumbled. he hummed and could only afford to admire her side profile, lingering in this proximity until she rose her gaze and smiled at him questioningly. “ what’s up? ”.

why must she assume something is always wrong? it was a detail about her romeo grew fond of over time, something that caused him to smile as he fixed her bow but did not retreat his hands, brushing his trembling fingers through her hair and risking a peek at her reaction. she continued to beam at him, never raising a brow, never questioning his next move. she was too innocent for him sometimes, hence why most his advances went over her head so quickly and so easily.

it felt criminal to suddenly lean in, but what was more criminal was her reaction, how the blush flooded to her cheeks in an instant and did unspeakable things to his heart. he dared to tuck one strand of hair behind her ear, tapping her chin with a minor chuckle. it felt inappropriate that his mind had gone blank, only the thought of kissing her became his priority. “ i really want to kiss you right now ”, he admitted with slight hesitation, far unlike the normal romeo who would go with the flow. he just didn’t want it to feel forceful.

“ oh ”, seren replied, he was starting to blush nearly as badly as her. “ i-i can’t promise i’ll be very good at it, i’m not exactly smooth when it comes to these things. so if it sucks i’m sorry-- .” he had to cut her off, cupping her cheek and locking his lips with hers, sealing a dream that he would only see in his sleep. on cue, both their eyes fluttered closed. he felt like she had taken his breath away, so he moved slowly, his kiss like a ghost against her lips, his hand still caressing her hair lovingly. his heart? well it never stopped racing, only when he had the courage to pull away and immediately found himself giggling. “ w-what? was it bad? hey, don’t laugh, i’ll get embarrassed! ”.

romeo smiled fondly at her, lips still tingling, heart ringing in his ears. he leaned in just once more and pecked her cheek, and then grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “ it was everything i have always dreamed of ”, he told her softly.

seren hummed with a frown, “ so you have dreamed of kissing me? ”. he didn’t bring himself to respond, only smiling at her and tugging her along.

        ⌜ ☆ ⌟   ―――   𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿

libraries are meant for studying, but there are some who may not see it that way. there are some who see libraries as a place to reminisce, to think, to reflect. for alexander, the library had been his safe space since he started studying at valhalla. but it had ended up being the place he took to admire art. and not the painting or drawing kind.

he has been glancing over at the silent seren beside him for a while, finding himself increasingly distracted by her presence. she was quiet, minding her own business, reading through a magic tome for a project. occasionally she would glance up, meet his gaze and smile, before going back to her reading, and every time, he found himself growing frustrated. there has been a feeling bubbling up in his stomach for a while, and it was caused by a mere glance at seren. he didn’t know the origin of it, but he could comprehend it. he really wanted to kiss her.

most dream of kissing their loved one and not many have the luck of such a thing occurring. he’s been fighting those thoughts back but they rush back in like a current by a shore. a feeling that would crash in and rattle every nerve in his body and retreat the moment he lets reality sink in.

alexander found his timing to be flawed when the girl cleared her throat and closed the tome, and rose from her chair. “ i’m finished for the day. i think i’ll be in my room. are you going to be okay alone? ”, she questioned with a hushed tone, despite the library being empty.

no, he wanted to say. every time she left him to go to her class or to return to her room, he found himself lonelier than ever, and missing her the moment she leaves. when she’s gone, he sees her in his dreams and imagines that he might be able to hold her hand and tell her he likes her, or caress her hair or hug her or even kiss her. but the moment he woke up and saw her the following morning, the courage evaporated into thin air. that was why he found himself questioning whether now was a good time. she’s standing there, book to her chest, gazing at him curiously.

“ there is one thing you can do for me ”, he began. when seren hummed and stepped forward to listen, alexander acted upon the courage that shook him to his core. he bit his lip and reached up, grasping her gently behind her neck and bringing her face forward towards him. the girl squeaked and he then found himself staring at two round, stunned eyes. she hadn’t moved away yet, so he went for it.

his initiation of the kiss was tender, sweet, because he was unsure himself. but once his eyes flutered closed and the adrenaline began to race, he deepened it, cupping both sides of her face and moving her closer to him. the position was awkward, he’d rather have her on his lap, if he was being honest. yet he cut it short, pulling away a few moments later with slight pants and red cheeks. pecking her lips one final time, alexander saw seren’s face painted a vermilion that suited her completely.

“ w-well ”, she stated nervously, gulping. “ t-that was nice. ” grasping the back of his chair, alexander leaned in once more and pecked her lips again. and then again. until she whined and moved back. “ alex~~ i really got get going now. w-we can continue this another time. ” he smiled and nodded and waved her off, sighing slightly as she paced away. this is why he likes coming to the library.

      ⌜ ❁ ⌟   ―――   𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘂𝘀

there are just some days that should not be ruined. and with every stroke of good luck in one day alone, percy would find himself feeling unstoppable. just earlier today, he had gotten an a+ in his magical art project. then they had served his favorite meal for lunch. not to mention that afternoon lessons were cancelled so he spent two hours in his dorm painting. needless to say, there was a skip in step, insinuating just how happy he was. if he were to come across one of his friends, he would just hug them because he was so happy. no reason needed, he’s just overjoyed!

and he would be damned if something were to ruin it. percy had just come out of his room and was on his face to the lounge where evangelos wanted to play table tennis. out of his uniform and sketchbook in hand, his steps were rushed, but they came to a stop when he reached the stairwell leading up to the lounge. it was empty except for one person coming down, and suddenly, his heart was taking off. his happiness didn’t disappear, but rather, it paused. and then began to overflow all over again.

seren had stopped halfway down the stairs, hand brushing against the railing and smiled softly when she locked eyes with the artist. “ percy! evan is waiting for you. i would join you guys but i’m not in the best mood right now ”, she spoke with an uneasy laugh towards the end, and he began to walk up to meet her halfway.

to see the mild sadness on her face dared to break his heart in two. he had such a good day, and maybe it was that happiness that erupted in his chest when he saw her that gave him a sudden feeling of courage. if she was upset, he was more than willing to cheer her up. he climbed up until there was just one step separating them, and he smiled lightly, noticing she was a tiny bit taller than him now.

“ can i ask you something? ”, he asked, heart trembling when she nodded. it felt so unlike him to suggest this, usually being the one waiting for the romantic gesture rather than initiating it himself. but with seren, he took impulses, maybe in the fear that he will miss his chances and then never have them again. percy’s lips trembled to get the word out, cheeks flaming. “ c-can i kiss you? ”.

the courage to ask was used, and he immediately found his gaze grounded to the floor, unable to look at the girl in the eye, unable to fathom the idea of her either rejecting or accepting his request. he assumed she was going to laugh it off as she does when romeo flirts with her, but seren did take one final step down, now face to face with the nervous boy. only a few inches seperated them, yet when seren nodded, there was no reason for him to stay away.

percy had never kissed someone, so it was no wonder he hesitated. but his hands moved and cupped her cheeks adoringly, appreciating the view in front of him and then pecking her lips at first, unsure, nervous, like he was poking his feet in cold water. but he caved in and pressed his lips softly against hers, nearly melting when she grasped his shirt and held it tightly into her hands. he was painfully scared, they both were, so careful that it ended up being softer than he was anticipating. but he was not complaining, he was kissing her!

percy pulled away first, and his face met the crook of her neck, rushing to hide it. seren giggled and rubbed his shoulder tenderly, “ hey, it’s rude not to look at a girl after a kiss. ” muttering a small ‘sorry’ against her skin, seren only smiled and ended up hugging the male tightly. this had to be one of the best days in his life.

“ c-can i kiss you again? ”.

      ⌜ ♕ ⌟   ―――   𝗸𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻

what kailen has found in the months of liking the same girl, is that she’s very clumsy. the nurse’s room had become a second home to her, especially after dueling lessons. and when the nurse was not present, most likely refueling her cup of coffee, he would be the one looking for the first aid kit and treating whatever ‘boo-boo’ seren had. and it was clear that she felt guilty, through her pouts and mumbled ‘sorry’s, yet he never held it against her.

if anything, he loved taking care of her. because it would often be tender moments that they shared alone, and those happen rarely. it’s idiotic to wish harm upon someone, but kailen wasn’t doing that; he just didn’t mind it when she came running to him because of a bad paper cut or a sprained ankle. as of now, he was delicately cleaning the palms of her hands after she fell and badly scraped her hands.

“ i would tell you to be more careful but you won’t exactly listen ”, he stated with a minor chuckle. seren pouted but made no attempt at responding with something witty as she tended to do. being in a room alone with her did make him nervous, though. kailen hardly acted upon his thoughts and impulses in fear it would upset someone, but he ached to hug seren, or caress her hair.

the contact was limited to him only nursing her, though. yet he refused to be upset by that, cleaning her slightly bloodied palms and then proceeding to apply the plasters and bandages. once he finished, kailen let out a happy sigh and smiled at the girl sat on the nursing bed. “ is there anything you want me to do? do you need pills? ”, he questioned. and hummed when she reached her hands towards him.

“ can you kiss it better? ”, asked seren, almost in a child’s voice. and who was he to refuse to a demand when she said it so cutely?! chuckling, kailen bit back his nerves and took her hand gently into his, pressing a delicate peck to her bandaged palms, looking up at her to see if she was content. she looked rather happy. but after kissing her palms, kailen’s feelings began to haunt him once more.

she had asked him to kiss it better, and though she smiled, the pout remained. he wasn’t going to be able to stand that. he would usually run from this but now, he was so close. kailen moved in, setting his hand beside where she sat and drew their distance to a close. still holding her injured hand, he started off with a kiss against her cheek. when she turned her face to glance at him, he leaned and pecked her lips. to his surprise, she still didn’t pull away. so he kissed her properly, as best as he could. as gently as he could. as passively as he could.

it was the first time he had ever gotten this close to seren, and it was the first time he realised the whiff of her perfume and the warmth of her skin. he tightened his grip on her hand and broke the kiss in fear of pushing too far, cheeks burning, heart throbbing.

seren gulped, staring at him with wide eyes. he feared he’d totally scared her off and opened his mouth to apologise, but stopped. “ well ”, seren began and suddenly chuckled. “ i suddenly feel ten times better. ”

“ g-good! ”.

“ do it again. ”

“ huh?! ”.

      ⌜ ❆ ⌟   ―――   𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘀

evangelos gave good hugs, that was just a very known fact. despite being the most intimidating person on the face of the earth, his arms gave perhaps the warmest and most comforting embraces that you’d ever want. it was possibly why when his crush was upset, she would find herself in his arms within no time. the moment he saw that frown, he would know. and would open those arms wide for her.

he did it to cleo, he did it to percy. but his heart just trembled the most when it came to seren. you might understand why when you are hugged by the girl. whenever he looks down at her when her arms are wrapped around his slim waist, he just feels like dying. she was so cute, so warm, so cuddly, like a teddy bear he never had growing up.

today was like most days, but what he found particularly different was the lack of communication coming from the girl beside him. they’d been eating for a while, he would tune into the conversations between the others yet his gaze would quietly shift to seren. this happened many times until he realised that something was definitely wrong. especially with how close she was sitting to him.

that was armsend code for ‘i want hugs.’

it was why he ultimately led her outside. the courtyards were empty this time around, they appeared to be in luck and the moment he turned to seren, he opened his arms wide for her and watched her push through like a magnet, capturing his waist into a tight embrace which he returned. having him in his arms practically recharged his battery, even if it was short. “ what’s up this time, searing? ”, he questioned, receving a hum in response. “ what was that? ”.

“ not a good day ”, the girl echoed, closing her eyes and resting her head over his chest. would it be too bad if she heard his heart beating? it was going too fast for his own liking and he would most likely give himself away if he didn’t calm down. she glanced up suddenly and he felt like his world had been rocked upside down. “ i just needed a hug. ”

evangelos remained perfectly still, staring into tearful blue eyes and finding himself nervous, but he was really good at not showing it. the moment he leaned down and kissed her, though, he prayed that his cheeks wouldn’t give it away, that his heart was basically aching. it wasn’t fear that kept him from kissing her, rather, it was a form of hesitation that worried him. what if she didn’t like it, what if she doesn’t like me? thoughts that echoed on a daily.

he felt like dying, though, when she stood on her tip toes and wrapped her frail arms around his neck, sinking into a kiss he had contemplated for ages. he didn’t want to break it, deepening it slowly, his lips picking up a desperate pace. with the strength he had, arms locked around her waist, he did the most romantic thing he could think of and lifted her off her feet just ever so slightly, nervous at her giggles.

evangelos was a passionate person, but he wasn’t given enough time to show that. he pulled away when he put the girl back down, caressing her cheek lovingly. “ i just asked for a hug ”, she said breathlessly.

“ what, you didn’t like it? fine, i won’t give you anymore ”, he grumbled and bit back a gasp when she pulled him back in again for a second kiss, and this time, he melted.

evangelos gave good hugs, but he also gave the best kisses.

[luna-redamancy]

The Curse pt.2 (Thorin x Reader)

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Word Count: 2102, my longest fic ever. 

Warnings: None? 

The sunlight hit your eyes, causing a grimace to form on your face as you rolled over to try and avoid waking up for the day. But it was too late, your ears woke up to the noises of the townsfolk down on the cobblestone streets below your window, the birds chirping a little too cheerful for your liking.

Sitting up, you grabbed the blankets off of you, a renewed energy bubbling in you. Today you could go see the bookkeeper, “Surely they must have something new in stock..” You mumbled to yourself as you tidied your hair back with a ribbon, pulling on a simple blue dress over your slip as you slid on your flats.

Grabbing the leather-bound copy of Romeo and Juliet, you made your way to the door, a basket for groceries looped over your elbow. “I’ll be off papa!” You called, only getting a snore in response. Shaking your head with a smile, you bounded off. ‘Must’ve been staying up late inventing again,’ You thought as you walked through the town.

The buildings were close together as if it was a barrier against the eyes of outsiders, the streets narrow and hard to get around if you didn’t grow up here. “Little town…” You sighed, staring at the same old buildings you’ve seen since you were just a child. “Quiet village, every day like the one before..” You mumbled out loud, hearing everyone around you calling good morning to the others.

Putting on a smile you nodded at them, “Good morning,” You recited in a polite tone, your eyes wandering as you came across the potter of the town. “Good morning, Monsieur Jean!” You called happily, one of the only villagers who didn’t find you odd for your passion for books.

“Good morning (Y/n)!” He called back to you, a smile forming on his face before his brows furrowed as he began to look deep in thought.

“Have you lost something again?”

“Well, I believe I have. The problem is, I can’t remember what! Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to me. Where are you off to?”

“Off to return this book to Balin. It's about two lovers in fair Verona,” You described, the lines of the pages etched into memory for how many times you’ve read the worn pages.

“Sounds boring,” Monsieur Jean frowned slightly, not trying to come off as rude, simply honest.

Laughing you nodded kept walking on your path, trying to avoid the whispers of the townsfolk around you.

“That girl is strange, no question about it,”

“No denying she’s a funny girl that (Y/n)”

Holding your head high, you ignored the whispers as you walked into the small library building.

“Ah, if it isn’t the only bookworm in town. So, where did you run off to this week?” Balin smiled at you as he walked up to you in greeting.

“2 cities in Northern Italy... I didn’t want to come back” You joked lightly, but your heart yearned to take off like how your mind could when you were reading a new book.

“Have you got any new places to go?” You questioned, looking over to the bookshelf.

“I’m afraid not, but you are more than welcome to re-read any of the old ones if you’d like,” He encouraged, waving his hand to the shelf.

“Thank you!” You gratefully bowed your head, letting your hand skim over the spines you’ve held in your hand thousands of times. Story after story replaying in your head before deciding on which one you wanted.  

“Your library makes our small corner of this world feel big,” You said amongst your thanks as you tucked the book in between your arm and your waist, settling the previous book you had amongst the rest of them.

“Vonveryage,” Balin smiled and waved as you muttered your goodbyes as you left the small library.

Walking through the town to return home, your nose was buried in your favorite book. Skillfully avoiding the villagers coming and going in your path, you nodded politely to those when you did look up.

Using the pages of the book to drift you away from the whispers you let your memory take your legs to their destination.

“Look at her, Legolas. My future wife, she is the most beautiful girl in the village. That makes her the best.” Thranduil grinned broadly, sitting atop a white horse, closing his scope as he finished watching you from afar.

“But she’s so well-read. And you’re so… athletically inclined.” Legolas argued quietly from next to him on his own horse.

Thranduil chuckled, “I know. She can be as argumentative as she is beautiful.” He sighed dreamily as they guided their horses to go into town.

“Exactly! Who needs her when you’ve got all of us behind you?” Legolas questioned, following behind him.

“Yes… But ever since the war, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something. And she’s the only girl that gives me that sense of…”

“Je ne sais quoi?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Thranduil said cooly as he continued on causing Legolas to facepalm in the background.

As soon as the two entered the town, all eyes went to Thranduil. His piercing eyes drew googly eyes from the women getting their dresses fitted across the street. Legolas rolled his eyes as he could hear them gossiping about the two.

The two got off their horses, tying them up to the posts on the outskirts of the town. Legolas pinched the horse’s leg slightly, enough to get the horse to stomp its foot in the mud, launching it all over the gossiping women. Their shrieks filled the air causing Legolas to hide a chuckle, “Never going to happen, ladies,” Legolas grinned as he walked off with Thranduil.

The town was bustling as the morning was in full swing, men and women scurrying about to complete their errands before the sun rose to its full height and made it unpleasant to be out.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed as he searched for you amongst the crowd, his smile widening when he spotted you just leaving the towns square.

“Excuse me, please let me through!” He announced, struggling to get through the bustling crowd as you made your exit.

Rushing toward you finally, Thranduil latched his hand onto your shoulder, “Good morning (Y/n)! A wonderful book you have there,”  He flashed a grin as you struggled not to rip your shoulder out of his grasp.

“Have you read it?” You questioned, closing it, your finger in the book to keep your place.

Thranduil chuckled nervously, “Well, not that one..But, books…” He drifted off, holding out the flowers he had in his other hand, “For your dinner table,” He explained, “Shall I join you this evening?”

Frowning you stepped back slightly, causing his hand to drop off your shoulder, “Sorry Thranduil, not this evening…”

“Busy?” He questioned, quirking a brow.

“No…” You drifted off, just shaking your head as you finished walking home, purpose in your step more so than before.

“Moving on now?” Legolas came up, arms crossed.

“No, Legolas… It’s always the ones who play hard to get that are the sweetest prey… That’s what makes (Y/N) so appealing... “

Thranduil turned to face Legolas, “She hasn’t made a fool of herself to gain my favor, what would you call that?”

Legolas snorted, “You mean dignity?”

“It’s outrageously attractive, isn’t it?”

Shaking his head, Legolas walked away from his longtime friend as Thranduil turned to watch you walk into your house as the village girls called after him in the background.

“I’m back Papa,” You called as you entered the house, setting down your basket of the small groceries you gathered, searching for your father in the small house.

Hearing a tune coming from the dining room you grinned.

“How does a moment last forever… How can a story never die, it is love we must hold on to, never easy, but we try…” Your father, Bard, sang to himself as he tinkered with the music box in front of him.

“Oh, (Y/n)!” He looked up realizing you were in the room, a small smile on his face before slipping back into concentration. “Could you…..Hand me--” You already knew what he was going to ask, holding up the tool he needed. “Thank you dear, I also need a---” You held up the other tool expectantly.

Bard chuckled, “No, no no… Actually…” He looked closer, side glancing at you. “That’s exactly what I need… Thank you.”

Smiling you pressed a kiss to his forehead as you began putting away the groceries. “Papa, do you think I’m odd?” You questioned, your voice small as you placed the goods in the cupboard.

“Odd? My daughter? Odd? Where did you get an idea like that?” Bard questioned, concern coming over his face.

“I don’t know. People talk…” You mumbled, shutting the cupboard door.

He sighed and shook his head, “This is a small village, you know. Small minded as well. But small also means safe…” Bard started, trying to find the words to console you. “Even back in Paris, I knew a girl like you, who was so… ahead of her time. So different. People mocked her. Until the day they all found themselves imitating her.”

Turning to face him, you realized who he was talking about. Your mother. “Please, just tell me one more thing about her.” You asked, moving to lean against the dining chair as your father stood up, realizing how late it was.

Packing up his bag, your father began to leave the small house, leaving your question unanswered.

“Papa?” You called his attention again as he reigned Philippe, the family horse.

Sighing, Bard looked down with unbearable sadness clouding his eyes, tears almost stinging the surface. “Your mother was…. Fearless.” He choked out, turning so you wouldn’t see him getting upset.

Sniffling slightly, he coughed as he rubbed away any signs of his heartache, “So, what can I bring you from the market, my child?” He questioned as he turned to face you once more.

You grinned, knowing he just asked to be polite, “A rose, like the one in the painting.”

Bard chuckled as he shook his head, remembering the painting he created long ago and the red rose he painted in it also. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? You ask for that every year..”

Patting his head, you smiled softly, “And every year you bring it.”

“Then I shall bring you another. You have my word.” Bard kissed your forehead fondly, hating to leave you alone.

“Goodbye, papa!” You called as he gathered the reins. “Goodbye my dear, come on, Philippe, you know the way.”

Waving at him as the cart rolled along the cobblestone, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You questioned, worry in your voice.

“Tomorrow, with the rose!” Bard called back, turning to smile at you as you gave a worried smile back. “Stay safe!” You yelled out as he disappeared from view. Sighing you leaned against the fence, “He’ll be safe… He always is..” You reassured yourself as you walked inside to cook yourself lunch.

Day turned into dusk, the townsfolk happily in the taverns and inns drinking their night away as you sat against the windowsill, a blanket draped over you and your book happily in your hands. The fire crackled pleasantly, warming the house with its flames.

Pausing your reading, you glanced outside the window, trying not to worry too much. Winter was coming soon, and that meant it was getting more dangerous for travelers like your father to be out late.

“He’s fine.” You scolded yourself for worrying as you dragged your eyes back to the book now in your lap.

High pitched whining caught your attention to outside this time. Cupping your hands around your eyes to see through the glass better, you gasped.  Philippe barrelled back into the town, whining and raising up on his hind legs to stamp his hooves on the cobblestone.

Throwing on your cloak, you abandoned your book and warm house, throwing on your flats once more. “What is it, Philippe?” You questioned worriedly, your eyes widening in horror as you saw the fabric of your father’s coat in his mouth. “Where’s papa, Philippe….” You muttered out, your eyes searching his for some sort of answer that never came.

“Philippe, show me the way,” You begged, determined to find out what happened to your father.

Hoisting yourself onto the stead, you trotted off into the night, down the trail your father traveled so many nights before. “Please be okay...” You whispered to yourself as you galloped down the path, anxiety smacking inside your core, the cool night air sending shivers down your spine as your mind thought hundreds of horrible things that could have happened to him. 

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[scribeofmorpheus]

His Girl Tuesday - Prologue

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Tuesday Adams x  Billy Hargrove

[Series Masterlist] [Main masterlist] [AO3]

A/N: I know I said I wouldn’t post any chapters for this fic yet, but I had to write down this opening scene before it disappeared. So now, we have a prologue and I just want to remind everyone, this series won���t pick up until I’ve concluded my on-going ones (let’s be honest though, how many times have I said this and then started a new fic immediately after?).

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, butchered Spanglish | Words: 2k

January, ‘85...

An open can of spaghetti, a bubbling pot of coffee and a sizzling pan were the three key signifiers that one half of the Adams household was awake.

Tuesday moved the spatula around as though she was digging through the strands of pasta to find some hidden treasure. When nothing was found, she took the pan off the hot hob and placed it on another, filling her mug with scalding hot coffee and unfolding the newspaper to do the crossword for the day. As she scribbled in the answer for five-across-six-down, her mind began to fill with static as a disembodied voice screeched in her head.

 "Please, no! Don't hurt me, please!"

Shattering sounds of teeth breaking; an echoing sinister laugh; wet coughs and splattering blood.

Tuesday pinched the bridge of her nose and drowned out the evasive inhuman shouts with a gulp of bitter coffee. Her temples throbbing something fierce.

"Ughh," she groaned as her vision filled with flares of light, a cold tingling shooting up her spine. The sensations were chased away by the familiar snoring sounds erupting from her father's burly chest over by the couch. His nasal rumble filled the small two-bedroom house with a conjoined dining and kitchen area with a billowing strength.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered in relief, her father too deep in slumber to have heard her.

Tuesday poured the rest of her coffee into a thermos and washed up the dishes -making sure to put the morning's leftovers in a tupperware box in the fridge for when he woke up.

She grabbed her keys and slipped into her work overalls, her hand almost at the door when she caught a whiff of smoke from the pair of socks on the floor. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Tuesday grabbed her dad's socks and ventured into his room to pick up the discarded clothing left in scattered piles on his bedroom floor, stuffing them into the ancient washing machine before she grabbed his bedroom alarm clock and set it for 3 pm, placing it by the side table next to the couch so he won't sleep through it. She kissed him goodbye and hopped into her crappy jalopy on her way to work.

***

The sound of welding, hammering and an old tuned-out radio filled the grease smelling, poorly lit garage at Fix-em Up Auto Repair. Tuesday found the disorienting loudness of the small space comforting. It made it harder for her to hear the voices.

Whilst waist-deep in the engine of a yellow buggy, Tuesday saw a pair of dusty, worn-out combat boots walk her way. A smile creeping on her face.

"Hey, little missy, I'm looking to get a tune-up. Know who I can speak to about that?"

Tuesday removed herself from under the hood and pulled the lever down so it shut with a pathetic thud.

Wiping her hands on her rag, she shifted her toothpick from one cheek to the other, eyeing the man in front of her lasciviously, "Depends… What's the make?"

The blonde tugged on his leather jacket, advancing closer like a hunter on the prowl, "'82 Trans-Am."

Tuesday leaned onto the hood of the buggy, the metal straining under her weight. "Oh! Tough luck, buddy. I only work on real men's cars, like a mustang or a porch." Her tone grew more and more teasing.

"Real men's cars huh?" He took a step forward, his hips toughing her under-thighs.

 "What the hell are you freak?"

Wheezing; metal scraping against metal. A club whizzing through the air, flesh pressed inwards beyond where it should; eyes as black as ink.

Tuesday rubbed at her eyes with a soft mumble, vertigo pushing her further down, toothpick slipping through parted lips.

"Baby," he took her face in his hands, steadying her body. "You good?"

Tuesday clicked her tongue in frustration, "Yeah, just my bloody tinnitus. I'm fine Billy, just a dizzy spell."

Billy scratched at his untended scruff, "You really should get that looked at."

Tuesday rolled her eyes, hopping off the hood and walking towards the work desk area, "Sure, once Jack gives me a raise and I don't need to save up for college anymore."

Billy groaned, kicking his boots as he followed after her, "Again with that pipe-dream. There are more fun things than being glued to a classroom chair listening to depressed old professors who spend most of their time looking up girl's skirts."

"Oh, and I suppose you've got a better idea for what I should do with my future?" Tuesday lifted her eyebrows as she poured the morning's coffee into a paper cup.

"Yeah, I do," Billy leaned against the counter, licking his lips. "You and me, the open road, sleazy motels and greasy diner food."

Zipping down her overalls, Tuesday pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting the cool air dry the sweat sticking to the hairs on her arms. She huffed, "Sounds charming."

Billy pulled out a cigarette from behind his ear, "Baby, if you wanted charming, you'd be working as a sexy little librarian, shelving books and wearing tight skirts, not beige overalls."

Tuesday popped a painkiller and took a sip of her bitter luke-warm drink, it was as dissatisfying as the quality of the music playing off the radio. Static fizzled in and out and the station's signal kept dropping unexpectedly. She balled her fist and banged on the cheap radio several times until it stopped.

Billy whistled, "You know, on second thought, maybe I don't need that tune-up after all."

A breathy laugh escaped her chapped lips, "Good, because I don't give out freebies." She took another swig. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but… isn't it your day off?"

"What, I can't come over and visit my girl on my day off?" Billy asked, lit cigarette held between his teeth.

Tuesday shrugged, "Your girl, huh?"

Squinting one eye, Billy leaned close to whisper, "Well I figured since friends don't make a habit of sleeping with each other…"

Tuesday punched his chest, firm muscles colliding with her dainty knuckles. Billy's eyes narrowed when he saw her lower shoulder. In a possessive move, he put out his cigarette on the vinyl counter, a black spot permanently burned into it as he rolled up the rest of her shirt's sleeve and moved her towards the light to get a better look at the purple and yellow mark imposing on her flesh.

"How'd you get this?" His voice held an edge to it, thick eyelashes covering his eyes under a dark hood.

Tuesday looked down at the bruise, previously unaware of its existence. With a nonchalant nod, she said, "Don't know. Must've bumped into something."

Billy unclenched and let her arm go, believing her easily. His silvery-blue eyes shedding their darkness in the process.

 "Son of a bitch! You thought you could kill me?"

The electric hum of fluorescence; the reverberation of shattering glass; a sickly sinking feeling like drowning in tar; cold, frozen-ice cold.

Tuesday shook her head, today was one of the worse days.

"You sure you're okay?" Billy questioned, his hand lifting her chin to meet his penetrating gaze.

For a moment she flirted with the idea of saying no just to see how he'd react, but she knew Billy was coarse, lacking a sensitive touch. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had closed that part of him off, forming a tough shell around himself as a form of self-preservation. That closed-off nature of his brought forth a roughness in him that had initially drawn Tuesday to him. It made him a great distraction and a great lay. And right now, she felt desperate for an escape.

Licking her lips, Tuesday leaned in close to nibble at his parted lips. At first, he didn't move, he simply let her lavish his mouth with her tongue. Then with a pleased groan, Billy wrapped his hands around her midriff and pulled her into a deep kiss.

 "You'll pay for tha--"

Quiet: empty, hollow… free.

Tuesday let out a thankful gasp when the voices died out. Looking up she noticed Billy's pupils had diluted with hunger, the saliva on his lips making them shine like a well-maintained paint job.

"Your house empty?" he asked.

"Uh-uh, my dad had a late shift, he'll probably still be there."

Billy's nostrils flared as he let out a deep exhale at the anti-climax.

Tuesday's lips curled upwards at the prospect of an alternative, "What about your car?"

"You read my mind."

"Juan, I'm heading out for an early lunch!" Tuesday shouted at the man in the back office.

"Is Jack, Jack! We're open. Only Juan after closing!" Her boss shouted back with a thick Puerto Rican accent.

"Right, sorry Jack!" Tuesday corrected and Billy scrunched his eyebrows together.

***

Billy's strong grip directed Tuesday in the backseat of his car. Seat buckles, cassette covers and random junk food wrappers pressed into her back, the sound of rustling filling in between the moans and pants.

"Fuck," Billy grumbled as he had issue unbuttoning his tight jeans, his erection bulging against the frame hugging material.

Tuesday giggled as she ran her fingers up his thighs, across his bulge and towards his button.

Billy bit his lip, savouring her exploring touch. With a satisfying pop, his jeans were loosened and he pulled them down to his knees. With greedy fingers, Billy yanked down Tuesday's overalls and pulled her bra over her breasts until it rested just shy of her neck.

Tuesday's open palm pressed against his exposed abs, halting Billy's efforts to undress her. Sighing, he asked, "What is it?"

"You got protection, Romeo?"

Billy riffled through his pockets and a frown grew over his heated gaze, "Son of a bitch!" The muscles in his jaw started working before they uncoiled and his eyes widened at the glovebox.

Reaching over, he pulled out all the cassette's and spare change and moved a hair comb out of the way until he spotted a golden wrapper.

The condom unrolled over his dick with a slapping noise, Tuesday giggled as Billy's face contorted into a painful pursing of his lips for a brief second.

"That wasn't funny," Billy grumbled as he leaned over her.

Tuesday wiggled out of her panties before wrapping her legs around his back, "It was a little funny."

What followed after was a reel of thrusts, hair tugging, gasps and suckling kisses peppered around Tuesday's neck and collarbone. Billy's hips began to sputter as he neared his climax, his thumb adding delicious pressure on Tuesday's clit as her walls undulated and contracted around him. Semen filled the condom and the both of them lay limp in his backseat, the fogged up windows obscuring the ugly view of the garage's empty parking lot.

Tuesday patted Billy on the back, "Nice work, lover boy. I needed that."

Billy's chest vibrated as a bemused laugh tickled her ears, "I don't know about you, but after this work out I could use a bite to eat."

"Food sounds divine right now."

Billy kissed the corner of her eye that folded slightly, pulling himself from inside her, "Fries?"

Tuesday nodded.

***

"What was with that ‘Jack not Juan’ stuff earlier?" Billy dipped two fries in ketchup while Tuesday slurped up her coke through a red and white straw.

"Mmm, its stupid but it's sort of a sales thing. Jack noticed a bump up in his commissions when people thought the owner of Fix-em Up was named Jack and not Juan, so he stuck with it."

"You're right, that is stupid."

"C'est la vie."

In the corner of her eye, Tuesday noticed a family of six sitting in a booth by the window. The neon open sign bathing all four kids in bright magenta. One of the kids looked up at her and pulled at his eyelids, tongue sticking out. His mother, noticing this, pulled him by the ear and scolded him in stern whispers.

"Fucking brats," Billy murmured as he lounged deeper in the seat.

Tuesday redirected her gaze to the humming florescence above, "C'est la vie."

***

After her lunch break, Tuesday rapped on Jack's door with a take-out bag in hand, loud Cuban music playing from within.

"Si?"

Tuesday opened the door halfway, "Lunch."

"Ah, gracias."

"De nada."

Jack beamed her a thankful smile, "You finish with the bug?"

"Mmm, almost, just need to oil her up and check the brake line."

Jack gave her a thumbs up, "Okay."

"Did Sam fix the gato?"

Jack looked at her with a confused expression, mustard on his cheek from the burger, "The cat?"

Tuesday slapped her palm on her forehead at the obvious linguistic slip-up before making a cranking motion with her hands, "The jack."

"Ah, the gato!" Jack said in recognition. "Yes, he send it. It's in the back. He wanted to charge extra dinero. That Estúpido. I told him I know the prices, he can't cheat me. I may not speak good Inglés, but I'm no idiot either."

"I told you not to go to Sam, he's… a hard-ass."

"Hard-ass?"

"Forget it, I'm going to finish up on the bug."

Jack gave another thumbs up in exchange of words, his mouth full of bread and meat.

 The burn of liquid cascading down a dry gullet leaving behind a buzz of alcohol assimilating through veins; a rapid heartbeat; tingles of adrenaline swirling in an intoxicating downward spiral.

“Again?” Tuesday braced her temples, body swaying yet again. "Come on!"

When the dizzy spell passed, she picked up the car jack and placed it under the buggy. As she cranked the lever, the jack groaned suspiciously. Tuesday cocked her head to the side, taking a step back and eyeing the jack to see if it would hold. Despite the alarming groans, the car didn't move an inch.

"Sam, you better have fixed it like you said," she thought aloud.

With a gulp of air, Tuesday pulled the creeper to her feet so she could sit on it, fixing a head torch onto her head.

Using the floor as an oar, Tuesday rolled herself under the car and started working underneath the car.

While she busied herself, another set of tires rolled up to the garage and the sound of car doors being opened and slammed echoed through the room.

"Hello?" A masculine voice called out as the bell dinged. Several smaller footsteps gathered after him in the garage too. An argument playing out between two kids about a film or something other.

When Jack didn't answer, and the bell dinged for a second time, Tuesday shouted out, "Over here. Gimmie a moment!"

The crank groaned again and then a nut flew off its side and suddenly the car started to plummet down. Tuesday braced her face as everything moved in slow motion. When a second past and Tuesday remained uncrushed, she peeked through her folded arms and was shocked to see the car moving away from her body, gliding over to the side where it landed with a loud crash.

"Holy shit," she mouthed in disbelief, eyelids pulled back as far as they could go as she craned her head to the group of people standing by the counters.

A girl with short hair wiped the blood from her nose with the inside of her flannel shirt. The group of boys standing next to her with mouths gaping open -though something told her it wasn't in amazement from what she just saw. The oldest among them rushed to her side, sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor, hands bracing hers as he helped her up.

"You're Steve Harrington," Tuesday recognised him from high-school. "And that's Nancy Wheeler's younger brother."

"I guess we can't pretend to be out of towners," Steve half-joked as he ran his hands through his hair and then around Tuesday's frame in a pre-emptive effort to ensure she didn't topple over from shock. "You're uh… Wednesday right?"

"Tuesday," her voice was soft, bewildered even. Her eyes narrowing now at the group of kids who backed away without losing eye contact, "What…" She looked up at Steve. "What the fuck just happened?"

  To be continued...

Permatags:  @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees   

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[wtfholland]

hey love! could you write something with the prompt 45? thank you!

Thank you for your request, anon! :) I wrote this one about Peter because I’ve had only one request for him so far and Petey needs more love❤️

prompt list | send me a request!

listen to this while reading♫

Mother fuck, this better be good!

The gentle tapping on my room window summoned my restless soul out of bed, me not having the heart to brush it off and go back to sleep. I trotted through the darkness lingering in every corner of my room and stubbed my toe on the side of my desk. I enveloped into myself, silently screaming a string of curse words. He owes me for this! This is the fourth time this week he’s shown up here. I hissing at the discomfort inflicted upon me when I flicked my bedroom light on. I blindly slumped back toward my bed, pulling up the blinds to the window beside it. I rolled my eyes at the strange boy sporting skin tight red and blue spandex. I unlocked the hatch and forced the old window open, paint chips falling onto my floor.

Dammit Spider-Man. Don’t you know I have school tomorrow? You as well!

“Why am I not surprised to see you here? What happened this time, bug boy?” I yawned, stretching my arms over my head. I moaned at the feeling and set my hands on my hips, attempting to look like the bigger person here. I was sporting an old Tupac t-shirt and pyjama pants that were too short for my legs, penguins wearing Santa hats littering the fabric. The web crawler just laughed, the whites of his eyes turning up into amusement. 

“Nice pyjamas, but it’s not Christmas, Y/N.” he said, climbing into my room. His ditzy foot got caught on the frame of the window, and he tumbled the rest of his way in, collapsing on top of me in the process. We landed with a thud and I was thanking my lucky stars that my mom was working late because I was sure the entire apartment shook; We probably woke up the dead as well. Spider-Man put his arms on either side of me to balance his weight. “Hm, hi.” he squeaked. I just scoffed and shoved him to the side so I could get up. I adjusted my shirt, pulling it back down after it shimmied up my torso a bit. Spidey was up in a flash.

“Okay, so…” I initiated, raising my brows at him. He looked confused, I guess. Trying to decode his expressions through the mask was a headache. You’d never be able to tell if Spider-Man was about to cry or shit himself. “So…what?” he replied, shrugging. I groaned in frustration, shaking my head. I woke my ass up for this? “What’s the problem? Where are you hurt?” I urged, taking a couple steps towards him to scope out any visible damage. The bug just chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t encounter anything tonight, Y/N, so I’m not hurt. I, uh…wanted to ask you if you could help me with something.” 

My eyebrows knotted in confusion as I looked at him. “Um, alright. What’s the haps, arachnid?” I asked cool and collected, plunking myself down on my bed. He followed my actions and sat down beside me gracefully. After a couple seconds, he cleared his throat. “Uh, so…well, I-I’m not really sure how to ask, but I…you see, I…would you…” he babbled. I yawned again, a wave of exhaustion rushing over me, reminding me of better things I could be doing right then and there…like sleeping.

“Good god, just say it! I’m not gonna judge you.” I pressed. I rested my hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. His gaze dropped to my hand and moved back to my face. “Okay, well, you know that guy I told you about a few times? Flash Thompson?” he began. I nodded enthusiastically. I’ve told Spidey so many times that whenever he was at school, he should pull an epic prank on Flash to get his ass back; I was hoping he finally did it. “Well, he was making fun of me today in English class. We’re on our Shakespearean unit and we’re reading Romeo and Juliet…” he trailed off, waiting for me to respond. I just jerked my shoulders forward, mhm-ing in the process. “We had to break off into groups for discussion and he was in my group and the subject of kissing and making out came up. Everyone was silently sharing their stories of their first kiss while I was trying to tell everyone to get back to what we were supposed to be doing. Flash kind of caught on and called me out, saying I’ve never had my first kiss and stuff…which is true. I’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

This caught me off guard. What in the hell? Spider-Man, fucking Spider-Man hasn’t had his first kiss? How?! He looks like he was sculpted by gods to be displayed in a museum for ages and ages. Despite me being an asshole to him from time to time, jokingly of course, he was always kind to me and a genuinely sweet guy. I could tell by the way he’d always ask me how my day was or how my mom was doing or if I finished my homework whenever he came by for me to patch up his wounds and what not. Obviously, I was dying to see the man under the mask. I’ve asked him about it a couple times, but to no prevail. I, of course, respected the hell out of his privacy, putting myself in his shoes if it were me, but…I was so curious. I knew he was a good looking guy, no doubt about it. He described himself to me; Dark brown hair, chocolate coloured eyes, a crooked nose, and quirky eyebrows. 

Spider-Man let out a deep breath before continuing. “So I came here tonight to formally ask you…Y/N, my personal nurse, and owner of funny pyjamas…if you would like to…bemyfirstkiss.” My eye widened at his request. I was not expecting that out of him tonight. I thought he’d come with a couple of bruises and scratches, constantly asking me if I could go easy on the rubbing alcohol. I giggled, remembering the time he had a small gash on his abdomen and I cleaned it up for him, with my face dangerously near his groin. I brushed off the memory and focused my attention back onto him.

“Really? Y-you…you want me to be your first kiss, Spider-Man?” I swooned, still in disbelief. He nodded shyly, moving his gaze back down to my hand on his knee. I gave it a small squeeze before I shifted my position so I was a lot closer to him. If I’m being completely honest, I felt this weird connection between the vigilante and I. I couldn’t put my finger on it, we just kind of clicked. He never took my harsh digs to heart because he knew I loved to joke around with him. I figured out after a couple of his random appearances at my bedroom window that I really liked taking care of him. There was just something so intimate and genuine about the whole thing. I never really had too many friends at my school, and I found a friend in him.

“I’d love to be your first kiss, bug boy.” I purred, bringing my hand up to caress his cheek. His eyes expanded in shock, thinking he was gonna get rejected. I leaned into him, raising my hands to pull up his mask. Spider-Man immediately tensed, grabbing my hands to stop them. I pulled his gloved hands around mine closer to my chest. “It’s okay, I’m just gonna move it to where your nose is. You can trust me.” I whispered, eyes never leaving his. His hands fell away and I resumed to pushing the mask up his face, curling it right on top of his nose bridge. I never seen any part of his face before, and I was mesmerized. His nose was a little bit crooked but not falling off his face or anything, and his lips were a gorgeous shade of pink. I smiled as I leaned in, already feeling his hot breath on my skin.

I pressed our lips together softly and I swear, my ovaries exploded. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither one of us were pushing it on. I slithered my fingers down his muscular arms to position them around my waist. He instantly pulled me closer into him and my entire body was put on vibrate. I disconnected from him and looked up at him for approval. “Was that alright?” I asked, my voice unstable. He didn’t say anything back, instead, he just invited me in for another kiss.

This time is was more desperate. We moved our lips together at a faster pace, drinking each other in. I grazed my tongue against his now swollen bottom lip, asking for permission to which he just stuck his tongue in my mouth, venturing in every corner. Spider-Man hauled me in closer to him, and at this point, I was sitting in his lap. My upper arms were resting on his shoulders, my forearms propped in the air and I sensually kissed him. Involuntarily, I got a funny feeling in my stomach and it slowly made its way down to my pelvis. 

Trying to suppress the growing sensation, I pushed my body weight onto the web slinger, forcing him back onto my bed. I laid on top of his as our kisses became primal; Saliva, teeth clashing, and a whole lot of tongue. This way by far, the best kiss I have ever had. I couldn’t believe the bug has never kissed anyone else before, he was a true natural at it. I squealed when he flipped us over, the mattress heaving underneath us. His weight on top of me made the feeling inside of me even stronger but I wasn’t about to let my urges get in the way of this special moment I was sharing with New York’s favourite spider.

But the next thing I knew, his lips were gone, the glorious weight on my front gone as well. I opened my eyes to see him sitting at the foot of the bed. How’d he get there so fast?…Wait a second, never mind. I sat up and crawled closer to him, swinging my legs over the edge to mirror his appearance.

“What’s wrong?” I implored, taking his face between my hands. He was giving me that strange look again. He brought his hands up and brushed my touch away like it was nothing, like I was nothing. This pulled at my heart strings. What did I do? Did I hurt him? “Look, Y/N,” he traced his fingers up and down my arm before falling away. “I really like you…but I can’t be with you. This isn’t gonna work. I’m not good for you.” he concluded. Whoa, where did that come from?

“You like me?” I whispered. My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe it. He snickered and shook his head. “Of course I like you, Y/N. Who in the right mind wouldn’t?” he admitted, standing up and slowly pacing in front of me. “But I can’t be with you, as much as I wish I could. We wouldn’t work. I can’t be with you.” he finished, making his way towards the window. I looked down at my hands in my lap, they were shaking. What does he mean he can’t be with me? Can he learn to elaborate? All at once, my emotions came up to the surface; All the confusion, the joy, the anger, the happiness I felt around him, the times he annoyed the shit out of me, all of it just started to bubble over before I could even think of holding myself back.

“What, so you think you can just come into my apartment, suck face with me for a few minutes and try tell me it didn’t mean anything? How about all those times I was cleaning your wounds, taking care of you when you were hurt? Did that mean anything to you? I was giving you shelter and now, you’re hurting me! What did I do? How can I be with someone I don’t even know? Tell me everything you’re thinking.” I shrieked and pleaded like a crazed lady. My mind was set on overdrive, I felt like I was going to explode. Spider-Man turned back around from the window and rubbed his masked face with his hands. “All of it…meant everything to me. Just trust me, Y/N, you would get hurt because of me. If anyone found out who you were, they would come after you, and…” 

He sniffled and covered his face with his hands, before turning around and repositioning himself in front of the window, getting ready to leave. “…I’d never be able to forgive myself if something were to happen to you because of me. I would be the one that ultimately hurts you. Think of this as my way of keeping you safe.” He grasped the frame of the window. “That kiss was amazing. I’m never gonna forget the feeling of you against me, like we were the only two people in the world…I’m sorry, Y/N.” And before I even had a chance to respond, he threw himself out the window, silvery webs shooting out of his wrists attached themselves to street posts and buildings. The darkness swallowed him right up as I registered his words. 

“I really like you…but I can’t be with you.”

“I’m not good for you.”

“Think of this as my way of keeping you safe.”

“…the only two people in the world.”

I was in a trance, staring out the window like a mannequin, my eyes outlining the areas Spider-Man sliced through to continue his patrolling, away from me. I didn’t know how hurt I was feeling until I shut my window tight, more paint chips floating down to the carpet. A single tear escaped my eye and I just let it be because what I didn’t know ended up killing me. I had feelings for Spider-Man; The guy who works along side Tony Stark, swings around like a monkey in a multimillion dollar suit, makes funny facial expressions through his mask, but who still chose my window, who still chose me. Out of every girl in all of Queens, Spider-Man came knocking on my window. I didn’t know if this was goodbye or what but I can say without a doubt, that I wasn’t gonna get any sleep tonight because who can fall asleep with a broken heart?

i’m thinking this needs a part 2, what do you guys think? let me know if you would like a second part!

fun fact, i was literally wearing the exact same pjs that were described as i wrote this lol

[bughead-is-riverdale]

Bughead Fic: Like Romeo and Juliet

Summary: as promised... all the angst and argument and make-up smut we deserve...

A/N: I hope you guys aren’t disappointed... I’m going to hell for this. Thanks for being my amazing beta as usual @allthingsbughead

Warning: SMUT!!!

word count: 4090

read on ao3 here

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

It was done. Riverdale’s sadistic serial killer had clawed his way into Betty Cooper’s mind and forced her to isolate herself, hurt people close to her, and finally ripped her heart right out of her chest. Even though Betty hadn’t seen Jughead - sending Archie with the task of convincing him that she needed space instead because she knew that she couldn’t do it herself - she could almost feel his physical absence in her life. Her heart ached for him and her anxiety writhed in the back of her mind like an angry demon, daring her to crumble, making her feel weak and helpless.

How do you know he will take you back after this? After you have deserted him?

The voice in the back of her mind hissed, exposing her insecurities and revealing her worst fear. There was nothing that The Black Hood could do that was worse than taking Jughead away from her, he was the last light that she had left in this god-forsaken town after Polly moved away. She wished more than anything that they could just leave Riverdale on the back of his motorcycle and never come back, like he had envisioned yesterday in Pop’s, like Romeo and Juliet…

Betty curled up on her window seat in her too-pink bedroom, wrapping her flowery blanket securely around her as if it could shield her from the pain, and peered out of her pristinely pressed white curtains, her gaze falling on the darkened street below. She could see the white picket fence surrounding her perfectly painted house, and the flawless flowerbeds adorning the front garden. Just the same as every house on her street. Like every house on the north side of Riverdale. Here she was, cooped up like a domesticated animal in her sleepy little hometown, her bedroom painted in soothing pastel colours, and yet she had never felt more scared in her life. It was almost laughable.

The street outside was empty, as she had expected, but a small part of her had hoped that Jughead would be leaning against her garden fence, waiting for her to run out of her front door and jump into his arms like she so often had. They would go to Pop’s on the back of his motorcycle and order milkshakes, their hands entwined across the table, and they would dream of a time when they could run away together and leave Riverdale’s civil war. Like Romeo and Juliet…

“Lollipop lollipop, oh lolli lolli lolli -” Betty snatched up her phone, the now-haunting song turning her blood to ice as her shaking fingers unlocked her phone screen, she swallowed down the panic in her throat as she raised her phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she whispered, the sound of her own voice making her wince.

“Hello Betty. Did you do what I asked of you?” the emotionless voice asked, even though it already knew the answer, the sound echoing around Betty’s brain.

“Yes” she said, more clearly this time, biting back a sob. She picked up one of her cushions and dug her nails into it forcefully. She couldn’t let him sense her weakness.

“Good girl” the voice crooned. “Now, your question.”

Betty took a deep breath.

“What will make you stop?” she asked.

“Your loyalty” the voice replied, then the line went dead.

Betty couldn’t hold in her sobs any longer. Allowing her phone to slip through her fingers and fall to the floor, she pressed her face into the cushion in her hand and screamed into the material. Tears steamed mercilessly down her ghostly pale cheeks and her shoulders shook violently with all the pent up despair that she had been trying to keep hidden. She wrapped her arms around her chest in a desperate attempt to hold herself together as she wept.

Jughead will never forgive you.

After Betty had cried until there was nothing left, and an unsettling numbness washed over her, she turned to her bedroom window, the one that Jughead used to climb through, and unlocked the latch with her shaking fingers. She pushed the window up slightly and lay down on her windowsill, covering herself in her blanket and tucking the slightly damp cushion behind her blonde head. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to calm the sickening feeling in her stomach, and willed Jughead to understand why she had to end things between them, praying that he could sense that something wasn’t adding up.

Betty Cooper fell asleep next to her open window, just in case he came back.

“These violent delights have violent ends.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Jughead woke up on the sofa, the morning light streaming in through the blinds and yet everything in the trailer still seemed dim and dark to him. The last time he had woken up on the sofa, Betty had been curled up by his side, her blonde hair tickling his face and her familiar vanilla scent filling his senses. But that was last time. That was never going to happen again.

Jughead expected to feel a renewed sense of pain as he recalled the devastating events of yesterday, but he just felt numb. How could he feel anything when Betty Cooper didn’t want to be around him anymore, when she didn’t love him. It was like the light had been snuffed out and Jughead was left in immovable darkness

“Good morning stranger” a familiar voice chimed. Jughead winced, suddenly remembering what had happened between him and Toni the night before, silently thanking himself that he hadn’t been stupid enough to take it any further than just a heated make-out, and turned slowly to look at the pink-haired serpent girl leaning against the doorway.

“Hi” he mumbled. He noticed, with a sickening feeling, that Toni was wearing one of his t-shirts. She must have picked it up from where he had left it crumpled on the floor of his bedroom the morning before and he couldn’t get over the notion of wrongness that he felt. Only Betty should be wearing his clothes. He didn’t want Toni’s scent of cigarettes and leather rubbing into his life and overwhelming everything else.

“You hungry?” she asked simply, sensing his hesitation.

“As always” he replied. “Pop’s?” he asked, desperate to get out of this uncomfortable situation. To be honest, he just wanted Toni out of his trailer.

“Sure, but you’re paying, Juggie” she said, winking at him.

Juggie? No. Only Betty Cooper got to call him that.

The neon lights of Pop’s diner were usually comforting to Jughead. The diner had always been his safe-haven where the nothing could get to him; not Riverdale’s civil war, or the Southside Serpents, or even his own insecurities, but today that was different. Jughead stared at his stack of pancakes, for once in his life not feeling hungry, and listened to Toni chat away in the seat opposite him. This whole situation felt wrong. This was their place.

“So now that you’re a proper Serpent, you’re going to have more responsibilities like -”

“Toni, stop” Jughead interrupted, his gaze levelling with the girl in front of him.

“What? That jacket isn’t just for show Juggie” she reminded him.

“Don’t call me that” he snapped.

“What?” she asked incredulously.

“Juggie, don’t call me Juggie.”

“Why not?” she challenged.

There was a moment of silence. The answer hung in the air between them, painfully obvious, but neither of them voiced it.

“Look, Toni, last night was -”

“A mistake, I get it” she retorted. “I’m more into girls anyway” she added, her tone defensive. Jughead just shrugged - which he suspected wasn’t the reaction she was looking for - and didn’t notice the hurt flash in her brown eyes. “Betty is hard to compete with, clearly” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Betty tugged nervously on the sleeves of her sweater, stretching them over her hands to hide the ugly sight of her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms, as she walked through the picturesque all-American town. The weather was surprisingly warm for this time of year, the sun shone down through the cloudless sky,  and everyone around her was dressed in t-shirts and shorts, making the most of the temporary summer, but Betty felt cold to her core.

“Betty, you have to tell him what’s really going on, he’s spiralling. Can’t you guys just pretend to be broken up?” Archie suggested, looking worryingly at his best-friend. She was ghastly pale and the purple bags under her sunken eyes stood out like bruises, he couldn’t even tell if she was listening to him she was that distant. “Betty?” he repeated. She looked up at him, a glimmer of faint surprise in her green eyes, like she had forgotten he was there.

“I’m sorry Arch, what were you saying?” she asked faintly.

“You have to talk to Jughead” Archie replied firmly. Betty raised her eyebrows at her red-haired friend in astonishment, since when had Archie been the one to give the advice?

“I can’t, The Black Hood might hurt him.” Betty said mournfully, running her hand through her blonde hair that was no longer pulled back in her perfectly styled ponytail.

“The biggest threat to Jughead right now is himself. He’ll go into self-destruct mode. Hell, I bet he already has.”

Betty’s heart pounded and her mind reeled with guilt. She couldn’t win. They rounded the corner and approached Pop’s - having been sent out in the first place to collect Fred’s order - but Betty stopped short when she saw two familiar people leaving the diner.

Jughead was holding the door open for Toni and she smiled up at him flirtatiously as she slipped past, heading towards his motorcycle that was parked carelessly outside. Betty gasped as she noticed Jughead’s battered appearance; he had a black eye, a sizeable bruise on his cheekbone, and a busted lip. She felt tears well up in her eyes as her guilt gnawed even further into her chest, she had driven him to this.

Betty glanced at Toni again, who had put Jughead’s helmet on now, and realised with horror that she was wearing Jughead’s t-shirt. Archie noticed too.

“He’s self-destructing alright” he mumbled.

“O happy dagger, This is thy sheath: there rust, and let me die.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Standing outside the Jughead’s trailer, Betty could almost feel her heart trying to jump out of her chest. Throughout the course of the day, Betty had picked the sleeves of her sweater to pieces in a nervous panic and, now that she was finally about to face her heartbreak upfront, her insecurities began to flare up again.

What if he just slams the door in your face? It’s what you deserve…

“Shut up!” she muttered and she lifted her shaking hand to the door and knocked. She could hear the sound echo through the trailer and part of her hoped that it was empty. After a painful few moments, Jughead opened the door, his neutral expression hardening when he saw Betty on the doorstep.

“What do you want Betty?” he asked measuredly, almost as if he didn’t quite trust himself.

“I want to talk” she whispered, cowering slightly under his cold glare.

“Don’t you have Archie for that?” he spat, Betty winced.

“Can I come in?” she said timidly, nervously lacing her fingers together. Jughead turned away and stalked back into the trailer, leaving the door open for her to follow. He leant against the kitchen counter and folded his arms defensively, daring her to continue. Betty shrugged out of her jacket and placed it carefully on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“How long are you planning to take?” Jughead sneered. Betty took a deep breath, accepting his defensive words, knowing that he didn’t really mean it. No, hoping that he didn’t really mean it.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, Jug, but I did this to protect you” she began, looking at him earnestly.

“From what? The Southside? Because, news flash, it didn’t fucking work” he snapped, his blue eyes flashing. Betty shook her head, tears threatening to swell behind her eyes again. “You lied to me” he continued, “you told me you loved me. You said it right here, remember?” His voice faltered slightly and he cleared his throat. “You said you wanted to run away together, like Romeo and Juliet, but you left without me -” his voice caught then, raw emotion cutting off his words.

“I never stopped loving you, Jug” Betty whispered, wiping the tear that slid down her cheek on the sleeve of her sweater. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Quit the bullshit, Betty” Jughead growled, his voice hardening again. “Do my feelings really mean so little to you that you’ll come here and taunt me like -”

“Jughead, you don’t understand -”

“WHAT DON’T I UNDERSTAND BETTY? BECAUSE EVERYTHING SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING CLEAR TO ME!”

“HE THREATENED ME JUG, HELL, HE THREATENED YOU” Betty shouted, her voice raised in panic, the fear that he wouldn’t believe her propelling her words.

“What are you talking about?” Jughead demanded, lowering his voice slightly.

“I shouldn’t even be here, he could be watching me right now.” The panic overwhelmed her and she snatched up her jacket, darting towards the door, but Jughead was faster. She tensed as she felt his strong hand grip her arm.

“You’re not going anywhere until I know what the hell is going on” his voice was slightly softer, sensing Betty’s panic.

“He… he’s been watching me, contacting me -”

“Who?” Jughead already knew the answer but he had to hear her say it.

“The Black Hood” she stammered.

“He threatened you?” Jughead asked, his voice laced with anger, but it wasn’t directed at Betty this time.

Betty was silent, that was all the proof he needed. Jughead crossed the space between them in one step and, his hands coming up to hold Betty’s face, crashed his lips onto her’s forcefully. Betty sighed happily and kissed him back with all the strength that she had left, running her hands over his chest and opening her lips to him, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. It was electric, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders and she could breathe again. She pressed closer, entwining her fingers in Jughead’s t-shirt. Suddenly, he broke away and Betty released his shirt.

“Oh god, Betty I have to tell you -” he whispered, his hands falling from her face.

“I already know, Juggie” Betty mumbled, averting her gaze from his blue eyes. “I saw you and Toni at Pop’s” she admitted.

“I thought you hated me” Jughead whispered, the guilt in his voice evident.

“I understand that you had to um… distract yourself…” Betty said awkwardly, staring at her hands where her nails had sliced the skin.

“Distract myself…? What exactly do you think happened?” Jughead asked, clearly confused.

“Well she was wearing your shirt… so I’m assuming that you guys -”

“Betty, no! No that is definitely not what happened!” Jughead interrupted, panicking at the thought of Betty thinking that he had slept with Toni. The idea of it was utterly wrong. “We kissed a couple of times, that’s it” he confessed. “And I feel god-awful about it.”

Betty nodded, relief flooding her veins as she reached for Jughead and buried her face in his chest, clutching him to her so tightly she was surprised he could breathe. Jughead wound his arms around her waist and buried his face in her blonde waves, breathing in the comforting scent of vanilla. They just stood there, holding each other tightly, silently promising never to let go again. Betty’s face was streaked with tears, and Jughead’s was marked with bruises, but they were together, so nothing could hurt them anymore.

“Stay with me tonight?” Jughead whispered, his blue eyes pleading with Betty as she glanced up at him. She nodded and he kissed her on the mouth gently, drinking her in like a drug.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Jughead gave her a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into and slumped down on the sofa, switching on the television as she disappeared into the bathroom. He had to pinch himself, not quite believing that she had come back, that she still loved him. When he had opened the door and seen her standing on his doorstep looking scared and vulnerable, it had taken everything he had not to fall to the ground at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, for whatever he did.

“Juggie?”

He turned immediately to look at her, and his heart skipped a beat. She was wearing his t-shirt, but not the sweatpants, so her long toned legs were bare and the shirt barely covered her pink lace panties. Something almost primal sparked in him at the sight of her in his clothes, his stomach clenched as he tried to ignore is arousal. Jughead swallowed, his blue eyes darkening with desire as they drank in the sight of her. She climbed onto the sofa next to him, curling into his side and laid her head on his shoulder, taking a mild interest in what was playing on the television. Jughead could see a faint smile playing on her lips, she was doing this on purpose. As if on cue, she brushed her lips against his jawline and kissed him under his ear, tempting him to lose his self-control.

“Betty…” he started.

“What?” she asked innocently, peering up at him through her lashes.

Then she bit her lip. Fuck it.

Jughead hands gripped her hips as he hauled her into his lap, so that she was straddling him, and then he pulled her tightly towards his body, his growing arousal pressed against her core. She giggled and playfully nipped his ear, knocking his beanie off as she ran her hands through his raven curls before pressing her lips to his. It had never been like that before, it had never been so wanting.

Jughead groaned into the kiss, running his tongue over her lips and slipping it into her mouth when she opened her lips to him, savouring the taste of her. She wriggled in his lap, desperately searching for the friction to satisfy her growing need, and moaned when he moved against her, his hands sliding over her backside and squeezing slightly. He felt her tremble when he ran his hands over her waist and brushed the side of her breast with his fingertips, heat pooling in his stomach when he realised that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She moaned, encouraging him to cup her breasts, his thumbs running gently over her nipples.

“Betty” he murmured against her lips, “are you sure about this?”

“Take me to your room” Betty whispered, her voice heavy with desire. He didn’t need to be told twice.

He hauled her against him and lifted her from the sofa, making her shriek, her long legs went around his waist as he carried her down the hallway towards his bedroom, her hands not leaving his dark curls, his beanie long forgotten.

He lay her down on the bed, pulling his shirt off before leant over her; her blonde hair fanning out on the pillows like a halo. Jughead had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I love you” he murmured, running his hands up her long legs and squeezing her thighs.

“I love you so much Juggie” Betty replied, pulling him down on top of her and meeting his lips with her own again. He pulled his t-shirt off her so she was just lying among his bedsheets in nothing but her thin lacey panties and, leaning down, he sucked one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, making her whimper, the erection in his jeans getting painful at the sound.

“Wait, Betts… I don’t have any condoms”

“I’m on the pill” she confessed, blushing at his surprised expression.

“You been dreaming about this moment, Cooper?” he teased, winking at her as his fingers traced the top of her panties mercilessly slowly.

“Shut up and fuck me, Jones” she demanded, her lips meeting his once again as aching heat pooled between her legs. Jughead’s lips brushed between her breasts and over her stomach, ghosting over the skin just above her panties as his fingers ran over the lace, touching her through the soaking fabric. His long fingers gripped the fabric and pulled it down her legs, discarding it on the floor and leaving her completely naked in front of him. She flushed, embarrassed by the exposure and automatically pulled her hands in to cover herself, but Jughead caught her wrists, his blues eyes raking over every inch of her skin.

“You’re beautiful, Betty Cooper” he murmured, running two fingers over her wet folds and watching her shudder in response to his touch. It was electrifying. He lowered his head, flicking his tongue over her clit and smiled in satisfaction when she moaned and lifted her hips to him.

Betty’s stomach clenched as Jughead swirled his tongue around her clit, her hands making fists around the bed sheets as she gasped at the almost unbearable pleasure. Jughead eased one of his long fingers inside her, and then two, moving them gently as his tongue drove her wild. She lifted her hips to him, unable to control her body as his fingers pumped faster inside her and his tongue flicked relentlessly over her, making her legs shake as she began to lose control. Jughead sucked harshly on her clit, making Betty moan loudly, and curled his fingers inside of her, feeling her walls flutter around him as she shattered, coating his tongue with her release.

She was breathing hard as he slowly kissed his way up her body and grinned at her, clearly proud of himself, and she rolled her eyes at his smirk. His breath caught when she reached down and stroked the bulge in his jeans, popping open the button with a giggle.

“Are you sure you want to do this love?” he asked for the final time, his voice faltering when he felt her hand run down his length, gritting his teeth to control his reaction. She gripped him firmly and moved her hand up and down. She guided his length over her wet folds, making him groan at the pleasurable sensation, coating his cock with her. He pushed against her slightly, probing at her opening and making her whimper. He looked into her dark green eyes and she nodded, trusting him completely with all of herself, and he eased into her slowly, pausing to allow her to adjust to his size.

Betty winced at the sensation, taking a couple of deep breaths as she stretched around him. Jughead kissed her neck gently as he pushed further inside of her, his mind reeling as her tightness consumed him. He set his jaw, determined not to lose control. He pulled back and pushed into her again, kissing her lips gently as she let out a small gasp. He thrust into her again, feeling her nails dig into his arms, and he felt like he was going to explode when she whimpered his name. She arched her back and spread her legs further for him and he plowed into her, reaching down to stroke her clit and build her towards her release once more. As she tightened around him, he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he worked his fingers harder on her.

Jughead felt Betty tremble around him and she cried out, clamping around his arousal as she orgasmed again, her green eyes rolling back into her head from the intense pleasure. He groaned as she pulled his own release from him, stiffening above her, and emptying into her as his lips captured hers for one last kiss.

He collapsed on top of her and she hugged him tightly, vowing to never let him go again, peppering his neck and shoulder with kisses and breathing in his familiar scent.

“I love you Juggie” she murmured.

“I love you Betty Cooper” he whispered back.

“I defy you, stars.” - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

TAGLIST: (I’m just gonna tag everyone who reblogged my post from earlier with a comment)

@bugheadjones-the-third @adorebughead @gabsjellybean @ninelittledevils @cameronmonaghantrashaf @freetimefase @cheryllclayton @dewitwhite23oz @everythingisbughead @bugheaud @zombiecazz @bughead4ever823 @snrise @bettycper

[shaniahnoel]

Buttercup Part 9/?

Word Count: 1914

Warnings: None? 

Masterlist

The end of November was around the corner, which meant that Sophia’s birthday was approaching rapidly. Seventeen didn’t seem particularly special, but Sweet Pea was eager for the day to come. Every day he pestered her with new questions as he sought to be certain that he was going to give her the greatest gift. Today was no different. They sat on the floor in his living room, both with books cracked open. Sweet Pea, however, was having trouble focusing on his studies.

“Why can’t you pick a favorite color? You can’t have multiple favorites. That defeats the entire purpose.”

Sophia rolled her eyes and turned to tell him something sassy. He’d been harping on her all week, ever since she said that her favorite color depended on her mood. She wasn’t expecting him to be so close or his eyes to be so earnest.

“Brown,” she breathed.

“Brown? Okay, now what girl picks brown as her favorite color? Shouldn’t it be like pink or something?”

“Brown is a nice color!” Sophia blushed, “It’s warm and comforting. Sometimes it has gold in it. It’s just got a bad rep.”

Sweet Pea stared at her for a moment, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he leaned closer, capturing her mouth with his. When he pulled away, he kept his eyes locked on hers. The moment felt intimate, and it made her heart rate start to increase. Before she could lean into him again, he whispered, smugly:

“I do have great eyes, don’t I?”

And she shoved a hand into his chest. He’d been crouched beside her, so the move sent him rolling backwards. Easily he turned the fall into a somersault and came to rest on his feet again, safely out of reach. He cocked an eyebrow mischievously and Sophia knew that she was going to find herself pinned and tickled in about five seconds. She’d just sprung to her feet, intent on hiding in the house, when his phone rang. Sweet Pea cursed as she smirked. She threw herself lazily on the couch while he took the call in another room.

As she was sitting there she looked over the room. After realizing that his father didn’t come home anymore, Sophia had decided the place could use a woman’s touch. Slowly, without being obvious to Sweet Pea, she’d begun to clean up around the place. Her eyes trailed over the walls, taking in the patched holes. The most recent one was less than a week old. While Sweet Pea was working to improve his anger, it wasn’t perfect. It was much better, but still, he had his moments. Last week, they’d had a fight, something so stupid that she couldn’t remember what it was about, but Sweet Pea had punched the wall in the middle of the argument.

When he returned from the call, Sweet Pea found her tracing the spot on the wall. He shuddered, not proud of losing control. She’d said it was okay, that she forgave him, but she’d looked terrified. They’d talked for a long time afterwards and he was working on it. She promised that she would do her best to work through this with him, if he never hit her. He felt nauseous again just thinking about that idea, but he couldn’t blame her for specifying. He’d shown her time and time again that he had no qualms settling arguments with his fists, but she was different. She was making him different.

She jumped slightly as his arms wrapped around her waist. He pulled her into him, his chest pressed firmly against her back. Her hands went over his and they stared at the spot together, in silence. His chin rested on her head and he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You don’t need to keep apologizing, P”

“I do,” he said, turning her to face him, “I promised I’d be what you deserve. That was not it.”

“So, do better,” she smiled encouragingly. It had bothered her immensely in the moment, but she remembered his gentleness at other times. He wasn’t his anger and she had promised herself to keep reminding him of that, unless he would hurt her, which, she never believed would happen.  

“You make me better.” He pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

Sophia’s birthday started out on the best note it had in a long time. Fangs woke her up by chucking several wrapped gifts at her head, and Rachel had her favorite breakfast prepared. She was halfway through unwrapping a pair of fuzzy socks when there was a knock at the door. Rachel went to answer it, but quickly called for Sophia. In the doorway was Sweet Pea, bearing a bouquet of flowers and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“These are beautiful, Sweet Pea. What are they?”

Sweet Pea didn’t answer, but Sophia noticed a slight reddening of his cheeks. Seeing him embarrassed was something new entirely, which left her even more confused. Flowers are a pretty standard gift for a significant other. Rachel shook her head laughing as she realized the Serpent wasn’t going to answer.

“They’re Sweet Peas, Sophia.”

Sophia giggled then, realizing Sweet Pea’s dilemma. She took them from the awkward giant who became more relaxed immediately. Rachel took them from her and went off to find a vase, still shaking her head over the budding romantic. Sophia slipped her arms around Sweet Pea, under his leather jacket.

“Thank you,” she breathed into his chest.

“You really like them? I wasn’t sure. It felt like too much, but Toni swore it was good idea.”

“You really need to just listen to Toni more,” Sophia chided, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, but now we have part two and I asked no one about that one.”

“Part two?”

Sophia glanced around, expecting to see a wrapped package. Sweet Pea realized her expectation and his face tightened slightly.

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing wrapped. I mean, I could get you something, but I didn’t know, and I thought I could. I dunno.”

Sophia brought her hands around his neck, pulling his forehead to hers. She’d learned that his anger, at least with her, was driven by uncertainty. He’d never truly tried to be in a relationship, to care about someone else. When that felt threatened, he got scared which quickly morphed into anger. Holding him like this and breathing deeply helped him to see straight again, to breathe.

“Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“It’s alright! Now, what’s part two?” She smiled brightly as if the moment hadn’t happened.

“C’mon,” he answered, pulling her out the door. They were a block from the park when he threw her over his shoulder and demanded that she close her eyes. It was mildly uncomfortable being over his broad shoulder, but she was a good sport. After warning her to keep her eyes closed, he placed her on the ground.

“Open,” his voice shook.

Sophia’s mouth dropped open with her eyes. Four swings blew gently in the November air. A mural had been spray painted against the building that held the bathroom, the doors of which had been replaced. The empty beer bottles and littered jingle jangle pouches were gone. The wild grass no longer tickled her ankles. A new ladder gleamed beside the old slide. The play ground was empty, but it looked welcoming now.

“Look,” Sweet Pea pointed to the left of the building. A new sign, deep brown in color, was placed near the entrance. It declared the park to be a gift from the Serpents to the South Side.

She turned to face him and the joy on her face took his breath away.

“You fixed the park for me? That’s insane.”

“You love coming here, but you always seem sad when you look around. I thought maybe you wanted to see it fixed up.”

Sophia realized then that he still didn’t understand how much she appreciated the gesture. She threw her arms around his neck and brought his lips to hers, kissing him forcefully. His hands trailed down to her thighs, pulling her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, helping to support herself. She pulled away reluctantly, giggling at his stunned expression.

“I love it, Sweet Pea. The flowers, repairing the park, it’s perfect. Thank you sooo much.”

As they approached the school, Sweet Pea dropped her hand. It was no secret that she arrived with the Serpent(s) every day, but he was insistent on keeping their relationship private. Deciding she didn’t want to argue on her birthday, she accepted the distance, throwing an arm around Toni and taking guesses at her gift. The Serpent revealed nothing, only making her promise to come to the Wyrm that night.

It was a good day, as far as days at South Side High could be. At least, it was, until final period rolled around. Sophia had study hall, her established routine being to gather up all her books and take them to the auditorium, that way she could meet up with everyone right at last bell without having to loop the school. Today, she realized she’d forgotten her English assignment. At final bell, she hurried to her locker, telling the group she’d meet them outside. As she was loading her bag, Romeo and Juliet slipped through her fingers and bounced off the floor. When she bent to pick it up, a large hand beat her to it.

“Thanks,” she smiled, raising her eyes to those of her helper. It was Eli, a boy who shared a few classes with her. They’d spoken a few times in passing. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled softly.

“Sure thing.”

Sophia closed her locker with a snap, and the boy fell into step beside her. It made her feel uneasy at first, but then she learned that he had transferred from the North Side a year ago. She brushed away the fear of Sweet Pea’s reaction, enjoying the easy banter as they reminisced. Just as they exited into the small courtyard before the parking lot, he stopped her.

“Maybe we could talk more over dinner sometime?”

“Oh, uh…” Sophia froze. Cat calls were ignorable, groping was immediately dealt with by the wrath of any Serpent (bless the poor soul who did this with Sweet Pea in vicinity), but never had someone so sweetly or easily asked her out. She reddened slightly as she realized that, technically, Sweet Pea had never asked her out.

“Sophia,” he questioned, moving to place a hand on her shoulder. She sidestepped quickly.

“I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.”

“Serpent?” Sophia nodded unconsciously. He paled slightly.

“Well, uh, first, please ask him not to kill me, whoever he is. Second, why are you with someone who doesn’t value you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I just meant, well, I wouldn’t have asked you out or anything if I’d known. It’s kinda weird that I didn’t.” he gestured between them, “honestly, when has a Serpent ever kept quiet about his girl?”

Eli walked away, taking all of Sophia’s certainty with him. He’d sounded genuine, not spiteful or malicious, just concerned. She watched him walk away, admiring the gentle way in which he moved. None of the students lingering about stiffened when he passed, this changing immediately as Sweet Pea came to view.

“Who’s that?”

“Just happened to be going the same way.” Sophia shrugged away from Sweet Pea’s jealous eyes, “Let’s get to the Wyrm.”

Taglist: @serpentsweetspea @reinadelaserpiente

[hey-mando]

Real Enough To Touch (Gaston x Reader)

Part 4 of “Another Look Around”

World Count: Freaking 3,240

Warnings: None

Tags: @timeskipeleven @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @lovelylpevensie @mmegaston @lj-laufeypevensieweasley @juggernaut-jones (pretty sure I got everyone, but if I didn’t, just lemme know)

A/N: mkay so I wrote this at like 2:30 this morning, which is usually when I’m most awake, but for some reason I was hella tired, and I was just trying to write as much as I could before I fell asleep, then when I woke up this morning and read thru it, I didn’t even remember writing half of it so here we go

Day had expired long ago; the moon was once again shinning its brightest and your mother couldn’t keep her mouth shut about Gaston. After inviting him to stay for lunch, the two of them had exhausted every word in the English language, chatting about everything from weather, to Gaston’s time served as a military captain, to whether or not the hydrangeas in your mother’s flower beds would bloom late this year. You and Belle had sat together, looking on in awe as they talked away for two whole hours. At first you were nervous about how Belle might behave around him, but seeing how she never got a chance to say anything, it hadn’t been a problem. Every now and then, taking the opportunity presented while your mother was yammering on, Gaston had glanced at you, tossing you a smirk or winking, or both at the same time, to which you couldn’t help but grin and blush.

The conversation didn’t reduce when it came time to eat either. You and Belle finished in silence while Gaston and your mother were barely able to touch their plates at all. Afterwards Gaston offered to help with clearing, but your mother brushed him off, insisting that she was sure that he had much more important things to attend to. Then, while Belle subtly distracted her for a few seconds, you’d grabbed Gaston and pulled him outside before your mother could initiate another discussion about knitting patterns or ancient family soup recipes.

Finally alone, you’d taken the moment to arrange plans for your next outing, then Gaston had left you with a kiss on your hand and a promise of a great hunting adventure later in the week.

When your father returned later that night, he revealed that he had met Gaston on the way home and spent a good amount of time speaking with him. Apparently it was a stimulating conversation, because he had plenty to contribute to your mother’s praises.

Well, you thought to yourself as your mother went on about how pleasant and welcoming she’d found Gaston’s voice, at least there won’t be any trouble obtaining their approval of him.

You caught yourself with a start. Your parents’ voices faded as you realized that you were now actually considering courting Gaston. It was no longer like those times in the past when the thought made you giggle or roll your eyes. It was real this time. It was actual consideration. You went to bed early, then continued to think about the situation as you lay under the covers, gazing out your window at the dark rooftops of the neighboring houses. The concept of being with Gaston was gaining popularity in your head.

It was easy to imagine waking up to the thought of him, not being able to breathe until he was by your side. Being able to take his hand and brush your lips against it whenever you liked, being able to stand on your toes to kiss his cheek or his nose, running your fingers through his dark hair, and looking into his stunning eyes as he laughed and pulled you closer.

You could imagine the sensation of his lips on yours with such ease that for a few brief moments you questioned whether or not you were imagining, or remembering.

These were the thoughts and ideas that took your stomach made your heart stutter.

You rolled into your back and sighed in frustration, realizing that you had become a living, breathing cliché. You might as well put a stupid wig on your head and join up with the Bimbettes, following the captain around everywhere he went with hearts in your eyes. Just like nearly every woman in town, you had become fascinated with the tall, dark and handsome Gaston.

You didn’t want to admit it, but it’d happened so sudden and unexpectedly that you’d had no chance to stop it.

You groaned out loud and reached over to the other side of your bed, snatching up a pillow, stuffing it over your face and shutting your eyes.

 “(Y/N)…for heaven’s sake, (Y/N), wake up.”

   You cried out as someone smacked you on the leg with what felt like a book. Growling, you pried your eyes open and sat up abruptly.

   Belle sat smiling on the edge of your bed, sure enough holding Romeo and Juliet in her hand.

   “Unnecessary,” you grumbled, placing a pillow behind your back.

   “Amusing,” Belle countered, scooting forward to place her knee on the bed. You narrowed your eyes and stuck your tongue out at her before nodding towards the copy on her lap. “You finished it?” you inquired, rubbing your hands across your tired face. Belle’s eyes filled with a fusion of joy and heartbreak. “Yes,” she drawled. You chuckled, your voice deep and heavy with sleep. “Bad ending?”

   “Perfect ending! It’s so beautifully tragic -”

   “Shhh!” you hushed quickly. “I might want to read it someday.”

   Belle grinned and tucked the book closer to her side almost protectively. “You should. You’d like it.”

   With a yawn you replied, “Pure romance. Not really my favorite genre.”

   She quirked an eyebrow. “Just wait till the day you fall deeply in love. You won’t be able to get enough of it.”

   You stuffed a pillow in her face, causing her to shriek.

   “Careful!” she exclaimed, shoving the pillow away before raising her other hand, revealing a bundle of gorgeous wildflowers in her grasp. Your eyes widened. Belle rolled hers.

   “These,” she said, handing the blossoms to you. “were on your doorstep this morning. I can only imagine who they’re from.”

   You ignored her, noticing the red silk ribbon tied around the stems. You fought off a smile as a warm feeling sprouted in your stomach.

   “He’s certainly doesn’t have any shortage of romanticism in him,” Belle admitted, leaning back on one arm as you inhaled the fresh perfume of the bouquet. “No he doesn’t,” you murmured, secretly enjoying the simple gesture more than you should’ve. Suffice it to say that with Gaston you were never bored.

   “Well,” you said, stretching. “I guess I should get these in some water. You off to Pere Robert’s?” Belle nodded, sliding off the bed so that you could get up. “I hope he has some new arrivals this week. His shipments usually come so slowly. I’ll have to hurry though, the clouds look like they’re about to burst.”

   You glanced out the window at the stormy looking sky, feeling a prick of excitement. You and Belle walked down the stairs together, then she bid you goodbye while you searched for a vase in which to put Gaston’s flowers. After locating one and filling it with water, you placed the flowers inside, returned to your room and set the jar on your bedside table. The sweet aroma was already beginning to fill the area.

   Half an hour later you were dressed, hair tidied, bed made and ready for breakfast. It only occurred to you on your second visit to the kitchen that neither your mother nor father were anywhere to be seen as they usually were. You grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table, then made your way to the common area, only to find it empty as well. With a frown, you decided to search in the back of the house. where you were finally successful.

   Your mother stood on the doorstep, looking on proudly as your father and Maurice hurried to attach a glossy new black iron gate to a matching fence that encircled the entire rear flower and vegetable beds. The old rusted barrier was lying in a heap of pealing brown bars a few feet from the house, and you immediately remembered about your father and Belle’s going to see Monsieur Barthelemy about a new fence the previous morning.

   You stepped towards your mother and grasped her arm disbelievingly. “Mama, when you said that Papa wanted to replace the fence, I thought he was talking about something cheap until we could get something better.”

   “That was what he thought too!” your mother sang, patting your hand. A few peals of thunder rumbled through the clouds, and the air thickened with humidity.

   “Then what on earth is that?” you exclaimed, gesturing towards the masterfully sculpted posts embellished with decorative fleur de lis and painted a flawless black. “Something like that does not come cheap, especially if it’s coming from Monsieur Barthelemy. Mama, we can’t afford -”  

   You were interrupted by your father striding towards you with a look the greatest delight imaginable on his features. “(Y/N), darling!” he said, waving a hand at the finished perimeter. “Isn’t it wonderful? Barthelemy and his apprentices were up all night constructing it.”

   “Yes, Papa, it’s wonderful. That’s the problem. How exactly do you intend to pay for all this?”

   “It’s already been payed for,” Maurice voiced as he rose from his knees, wiping his hands on a wet rag. You frowned. “What?”

   The first few drops of rain had begun to splash at your feet and dribble on your hair, prompting your mother to hurry everyone inside.

   “Yes, every single piece,” your father finished, gazing fondly at the fence through the open door. “When Maurice and I arrived at Barthelemy’s this morning to arrange an order, it was finished. He said that an anonymous client had placed the order for his finest work yesterday evening. Even paid him extra to have it done by today and to keep quiet about it.”

   Your eyes were now wide as they gazed at your father. You were about to speak when he held up his hand. He was smiling satisfactorily.

   “I told you last night that I ran into Monsieur Gaston on the way home. I told him where I’d been and my purpose for my trip. He was the only one other than our blacksmith and Maurice and I who knew anything about the matter.” He gave a short chuckle then added, “And besides, Barthelemy confirmed it himself. Keeping his mouth shut never was one of that man’s talents.”

   Your heart did a sort of somersault. Outside, the rain had begun to beat down with a vengeance, the ground vibrating with occasional cracks of thunder. You couldn’t say a word. You couldn’t even think straight.

   Your father laughed at your expression, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I told you he was a good fellow, that Gaston!” he said merrily over the sound of the rain. He kissed your forehead before shuffling his way past you into the kitchen where your mother and Maurice were already talking about the downpour.

   You stood in place for several moments, turning over your father’s words in your head. A muggy breeze blew through the door, spraying your face with raindrops.

   “Oh, goodness,” your mother called towards you. “(Y/N) please close that door before we have a floor on our hands.”

   However instead of obeying, you did the last thing any of the adults expected you to do.

   You stepped over the threshold and sprinted out into the garden.

   You heard your mother’s startled yelp from inside, but ignored it as you splashed barefoot through the patches of flowers, mud seeping between your toes and spattering the the skirt of your pale green dress. You carefully swung yourself over the new fence, then ran along the side of the house until you came to the front, unhesitatingly dashing out into the practically deserted street beyond.

   Most of the vendors had already folded up their shops, but the occasional few who were still scrambling to pack up their wares gave you odd glances as you ran by, already soaked to the bone and looking as if you were late for some extremely important engagement in the rain.

    You scanned the town square hastily, disregarding the bustling villagers fleeing towards shelter, for none of them matched the description of the one person you wanted to find. You adjusted your position to stand in the exact middle of the square, holding your hair back from your face and squinting through the rain, turning in a slow circle to survey each inch of the visible landscape. And that was when you spotted him.

   He stood a few feet from the tavern, trying quickly to untangle his horse from the post to which it was tied, and not succeeding. His tan coat wasn’t as easy to spot as his flamboyantly red one, but you recognized him regardless from the span of his broad shoulders and his dark, wet hair.

   You walked to stand closer to him, then called over the deluge, “One time when I was little, I was playing outside of the blacksmith’s shop and I accidentally kicked a pebble that knocked over one of Miss Marita’s flowerpots.”

   Gaston wheeled at the sound of your voice, his hands abandoning their work with his horse’s reins. You seemed to have a knack for catching him at moments when he didn’t expect it. His lips were parted as he frowned at you, clearly wondering why in the world you hadn’t chosen somewhere a little drier to confront him. Nevertheless, you went on, taking slow steps towards him with every sentence.

   “I begged Monsieur Barthelemy not to tell that I was the one who broke it, but he did anyway, and to this day it’s still the reason Miss Marita charges me extra for eggs.” You smiled, now within feet of each other. “Barthelemy’s never been good at keeping secrets, Gaston. Not even ones he’s payed to keep.”

   A look of realization dawned on his face, “Ah,” he said with a guilty laugh. “Well then, remind me never to do business with him again.” He brought one hand up to swipe through his hair, keeping the soaked strands off his forehead. You shook your head, still smiling disbelievingly.

   “That metalwork on that fence would be considered a masterpiece even by a city blacksmith,” you continued, moving closer. “It wasn’t like simply buying a gift for an old friend.”

   Gaston shifted his shoulders and responded, “Wasn’t it?”

   You looked him squarely in the eyes. “Gaston, that order must’ve cost more than Barthelemy earns in a year, without the extra it took for him to keep his mouth not-so-shut.”

   The former captain licked his lips as droplets of rain streamed down his tanned face. In close quarters, you had to look up quite a bit to maintain eye contact, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t notice - or appreciate - the way the rain had turned his white shirt partially see-through and caused it to cling to his chest, displaying every sculpted muscle in his midsection. His brown pants too were leaving nothing to the imagination. The way the rain slid slowly down his neck and turned his hair curly was enough to give you butterflies.

   “Trust me, (Y/N),” he said eventually, no longer needing to keep his voice raised with you standing so close. “The cost was nothing compared to the joy it brought me to provide such a needed gift to your father.”

   Your eyebrows shot up, and before you knew it you were laughing.

   “Are you even real?” you asked incredulously, hardly able to believe the words coming from his mouth. Gaston smiled, causing those infamous creases to form around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. You couldn’t help thinking that in all the time you’d known him, he’d never looked so breathtakingly beautiful as he did now, drenched from head to foot in the warm spring rain.

   “Real enough to touch,” he said, his voice emanating softly from his chest as he brought his hand up and brushed your dripping hair off your shoulder, lingering his touch on the side of your neck.

   Your breath hitched in your throat, and almost in slow motion, you felt your own hand rising to cover his. Gaston’s eyes flickered with something indistinguishable, and he instantly took the moment to swipe his thumb across your cheek, leaving tingles behind on your skin.

  After a few seconds he shuffled his feet forward slightly, and you had to tilt your chin even higher to look into those dark, hazel eyes that could almost certainly see straight into your mind. His right hand soon mimicked the position of his left, his fingertips sliding ever so slightly into your hair. In a reflexive kind of way, you brought both of your hands to settle around his forearms, the soft, moist fabric of his jacket beneath your palms.

   The rain continued to fall in sheets, and despite his previous efforts, several strands of Gaston’s hair came loose from their manicured style and fell across his forehead. As he leaned even nearer, his eyes fell to your lips, and in that instant, you swore that your heart stopped and stood still inside your chest. His actions were slow and gentle, something that you never would’ve guessed from him.

   But none of that mattered. The world silently washed away like the heavy June shower as Gaston dipped his head, his eyes fluttering shut before he grazed his lips over yours, barely enough to feel more than a whisper of his touch.

   You’d never felt your heart soar so high. There was a fiery sensation spreading through every inch of your being, causing you to feel weightless but still real. Invincible but still vulnerable. And there was only one word you could think of to describe the feeling.

   Alive.

   When Gaston pulled away, it was just for an instant, a mere few seconds to look at you and read your reaction. And in that precious moment he realized with a shock to his insides that he had never before in his life seen anything of such an otherworldly beauty then you standing there in front of him, eyes closed in pure bliss and water spilling down your cheeks.

   Then his mouth was on yours again, but his time with more than just a simple touch. This time his lips moved against yours with an intensity fueled by pure passion. A passion which you readily returned.

   You pushed yourself onto your toes, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling your body against his. Gaston kissed you even deeper, tilting his head to the side and grasping you by the waist, keeping your entire body as tightly against his as was possible. His actions were slow but electrifying.

   He was savoring every instant, and so were you. It became clear that both of you had been waiting, even pining after this moment for far too long, even if one of you had been reluctant to admit it.

   The taste of rain that mixed through the kiss, the feeling of his arms around you, desperate to keep you close, the obvious desire and love that coursed from your combined movements…

    The sound of high-pitched wails echoing off the stone courtyard pulled you from ecstasy back into the world around you, and with difficulty you drew back from Gaston.

   The three sisters, Claudette, Laurette and Paulette were standing under the awning of the cloth-merchant’s, huge crocodile tears pouring down their faces, cutting paths through the white powder on their faces and causing the black around their eyes to melt down onto their cheeks.

   You bit your lip and leaned your head against Gaston’s shoulder with a quiet, “Oops…”

    His laughter rumbled in his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[dont-sneeze]

imagine all the newsies going to their first pride together eyyy (this is supposed to be a prompt but i suck at wording) (also your writing is really good!! BELIEVE IN YOURSELF)

[sketchbook-project-ba1b-1602522]

“Grave of the Fireflies, Draft 4″ - 14.02.2017

‘Walt Disney once remarked that. “We like to have a point to our stories, not an obvious moral but a worthwhile theme.” For this essay, I will analyse ‘Grave of the Fireflies’ as an example of moral storytelling’

By Harrison Ashe  

From cave-men painting on walls to the latest Disney movie, humans have been telling stories for centuries. But why do we tell stories? A story is a device, a tool for learning that engages both our human emotions, and memory. They’re a “blueprint for survival,”a way of teaching others about the world around us; acting as “a rehearsal for real life” (Yorke, 2014) by showing the solutions to a problem through narrative. Another important factor is how a narrative is told, taking into account the structure in order to engage the listener, ensuring the tale will be remembered, and the point of the story is understood. A successful example of this would be ‘Grave of the Fireflies’ (Hotaru no Haka, 1988) ,[L3]  an animated war drama based in Japan during the events of WWII, following our protagonist ‘Seita Yokokawa’; a fourteen-year-old boy and his four-year-old sister: ‘Setsuko Yokokawa’. After he and his sister lose their mother in the Kobe firebombing, life becomes a constant struggle for these orphans of war to survive.

The film is based on a semi-autobiographical novel written by Akiyuki Nosaka, re-telling his and his sister’s past experiences [L4] during Japan’s ‘economic crisis and growing militarism.’ It was written as an apology to his own sister ‘Seita’, to “honour his sister” and personally cope with his “tremendous sense of guilt” (pg. 56, Racel, 2009)[L5]  [L6] he felt due to her treatment. Akiyuki Nosaka [L7] had many offers to adapt his novel, but declined due to his belief that live-action was unable to accurately portray the young protagonists and the time, until he was approached by Isao Takahata from ‘Studio Ghibli’ who convinced him with storyboards that animation was the perfect medium to convey the themes of the story since “one can have even more freedom all while opening on reality[L8] ” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996), due to the nature of animation being able to replicate whatever can be drawn, including Nosaka’s memories of the war.

Production began and the movie premiered in Japan on 16 April 1988. An estimated budget of $3,700,000 was needed for this 2-D animated film, with a run-time of “89 minutes” (Hotaru no Haka, 1988). The animation used in ‘Grave’ is hand-drawn 2-D cel animation, captured using 35mm negatives[L9] . Most cel illustration outlines in ‘Grave’ are drawn in brown, instead of customary black. This artistic decision was done on a challenge, making it hard to work with due to it not contrasting as well as black, but provides the movie with softer visuals.

The story opens on a shot of our protagonist ‘Seita’, as he speaks the opening line “21st September, 1945. That was the night I died” (Hotaru no Haka, 1988), engaging the audience by plotting the demise of our lead protagonist at the start, thus informing the viewer of the tragic story that is to ensue, and breaking the stereotype of ‘animation being for kids’ “by not being confined to the fantastic or imaginary” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996), [L10] a trope associated with animation due largely to Disney’s fairy tale movies that friv on the use of the imaginary, causing it being so prolifically popular among children today. Seita watches from the afterlife, as he lies dying in a train station, he utters his last word ‘Setsuko’, conveying his “love” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996) for his sister before death. The protagonist dies and more deceased children are revealed in the station, highlighting the horror of 1945, informing those about the suffering of the civilians during the war. A small fruit drops tin[L11]  is hurled into a field, revealing the tins contents to be bones and ash. Fireflies take to the sky, illuminating the surroundings as Setsuko’s spirit rises from the tin. Setsuko’s spirit is then reunited with Seita’s spirit, fulfilling Seita’s promise to Setsuko.

On 16th March, 1945, the firebombing of Kobe ensues. After finding out of his mother’s death, Seita lies to Setsuko, saying their mother had been hospitalised. “He decides to become the guardian of his little sister.” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996) Seita is forced “to grow up quickly”, killing his own emotions and lying about the ordeal for the wellbeing of his sister, displaying very human emotions “through the small details” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996) of his character as he desperately distracts himself from the truth in order to shield Setsuko.

One night, the two siblings capture and release fireflies into their shelter’s enclosure, watching in awe as they illuminate the darkness. Seita then talks about an naval review, flashing back to a celebration of his father’s fleet, sugar-coating war as being heroic and honourable. Before sleeping, Seita rolls over to his sister and embraces her as she sleeps, hinting towards his yearning for ‘love’ and his ‘dependency’ on her. They sleep separated, expressing the feeling of loneliness from the distance between them. In the morning, Seita finds Setsuko making a grave for the fireflies, she also reveals her knowledge of their mother’s death. Setsuko scoops up a handful of fireflies and places them in the grave, a sudden flash of their mother appears being thrown into a mass grave, revealing the strong symbolism of human lives being fireflies. This scene is as impactful as it is because of the visual cue we receive when burying the fireflies, allowing us to make the symbolic connection between the two, strengthened further through the use of a ‘Kamekaze’ being compared to a firefly earlier. Seita responds with tears because of the realisation [L12] to him and the viewer that he cannot protect Setsuko from this war. “Why do fireflies have to die so soon?” (Hotaru no Haka, 1988) the framing [L13] of this scene implies that Setsuko is asking the audience this question, giving the audience “two plus two” and compelling them “to conclude the answer” (Stanton, 2012), a technique known as ‘showing, not telling’, in order to provoke thought, and engage the brain to search for the answer through the events seen in the movie and come to a conclusion. [L14] The two observe the grave while two orange fireflies dance until they fade into darkness, foreshadowing the two siblings’ inevitable death.

Throughout the movie, we see scenes revealing Seita’s inner emotions from the bleak situations he finds himself in, pushing the fact that despite his maturity, he is still a child. Occasionally, the two swap roles momentarily. As Setsuko inquires about the pain of her brothers wounds, she “assumes the role of the mother” (Nosaka), highlighting Setsuko’s love and resolve to help her brother. Even when Setsuko is suffering from malnutrition and needs food, she offers it all to Seita despite her hunger. Through these moments, their mutual dependency on one another is revealed, and past this point she slowly begins to fill “the role of his lover” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996) as the story approaches its climax. “Don’t leave me alone!” Setsuko pleads, to which Seita then assures her that he’ll never leave her again, “I promise.” (Hotaru no Haka, 1988) [L15] Calling back to the beginning where Seita dies in order to be with Setsuko, fulfilling the promise in this “double-suicide story.” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996), similar to the tragic ending of Shakespeare’s lovers: Romeo and Juliet.

Due to starvation, Setsuko begins suffering from delusions, and is found sucking on a marble in substitution of a fruit drop, a vivid reminder of the desperate situation they faces. Additionally, this child’s toy that, in any normal situation, would be associated with joy takes on a darker theme, displaying the war as an end to peace and happiness. Seita leaves a watermelon by her side so he can cook a nourishing meal for her. “She never woke up.” (Hotaru no Haka, 1988) Through flashbacks, we’re shown new scenes of Setsuko’s days at the shelter, playing, eating like any other child in order to evoke an emotion just after the story reached its emotional climax. [L16] Seita cremates Setsuko along with her possessions, apart from the fruit drops tin that he keeps, unable to move on from this tragedy. He watches the flames from morning till night, while fireflies take to the sky above, conveying his loneliness and loss of hope without his sister as his dependency, adhering to “The Panacea Reason” that “without hope we wouldn’t survive” (Yorke, 2014). Seita fills the tin with Setsuko’s ashes[L17] , showing his resolve to maintain his promise and never leave her again, one that is fulfilled through his suicide to be reunited with her in the after-life. Setsuko’s spirit joins Seita on a bench, hinting back to their reunification at the beginning and contextualising his promise, perishing in the station to join his sister in the after-life. The two, along with other souls, assemble and observe from atop a hill the illuminated, rebuilt city of Kobe[L18] , the light being used symbolically, as “the return of light implies the return of peace.” (Takahata and Nosaka, 1996)

               Throughout the movie, the audience has witnessed multiple emotional cues favouring an anti-war mentality. From Setsuko directly addressing the audience on why life is lost, to the tragic end to these innocent orphans of war. The movie successfully conveys the moral subtly, additionally questioning those morals in order to engage the audience using dialogue, visual and emotional cues, rewarding the viewer when finding they conclude the answer themselves. Hence why ‘Grave of the Fireflies’ works so well as “The Psychological Reason”, “The Panacea Reason” and “The Information Retrieval Reason” (Yorke, 2014) narrative. This movie, through animation, preserves the painful memories of 1945 Japan as a constant reminder of the horror of war, done to educate others that the loss of peace will be the death of humanity.

Bibliography

Anon, (2017). [online] Available at: http://www.eagle.pitt.edu/sites/default/files/GraveOfTheFireflies-sheet.pdf [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Booker, C. (2004). The Seven Basic Plots. 1st ed. London: Bloomsbury.

Disney, W. (2017). Walt Disney Quotes Page 3 - BrainyQuote. [online] BrainyQuote. Available at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/w/walt_disney_3.html [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Ebooklibrary.org. (2017). Grave of the Fireflies (short story) | World eBook Library - eBooks | Read eBooks online. [online] Available at: http://www.ebooklibrary.org/articles/grave_of_the_fireflies_(novel) [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Folds.net. (1999). The Firebombing of Kobe and Osaka during World War II. [online] Available at: http://www.folds.net/Haney/firebombing.html [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Hotaru no Haka. (1988). [DVD] Japan: Isao Takahata, Studio Ghibli.

Miyazaki, H. (2017). Hayao Miyazaki Quotes - BrainyQuote. [online] BrainyQuote. Available at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/hayao_miyazaki.html [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Moss, L. (2017). Why do we tell stories?. [online] MNN - Mother Nature Network. Available at: http://www.mnn.com/lifestyle/arts-culture/stories/why-do-we-tell-stories [Accessed 20 Feb. 2017].

myteacherpages. (2017). The Seven Basic Plots. [online] Available at: http://www.myteacherpages.com/webpages/Skearney/files/The%20Seven%20Basic%20Plots.pdf [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Nosaka, A., Jewel, M., Taniura, K. and Oura, A. (2000). Hotaru no haka. 1st ed. Tokyo: Sanyusha Shuppan.

Racel, M. (2009). Grave of the Fireflies and Japan’s Memories of World War II. [online] http://aas2.asian-studies.org/EAA/EAA-Archives/14/3/887.pdf. Available at: http://aas2.asian-studies.org/EAA/EAA-Archives/14/3/887.pdf [Accessed 25 Feb. 2017].

Stanton, A. (2012). Andrew Stanton: The clues to a great story. [online] YouTube. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxDwieKpawg [Accessed 10 Feb. 2017].

Takahata, I. and Nosaka, A. (1996). Grave of the Fireflies.

The Event Psychologist. (2017). The Psychology of Storytelling: Implications for brands and experiential marketing. [online] Available at: https://theeventpsychologist.com/2016/02/28/the-psychology-of-storytelling-implications-for-brands-and-experiential-marketing/ [Accessed 20 Feb. 2017].

Yorke, J. (2014). Into the woods. 1st ed. New York, NY: The Overlook Press.

Yorke, J. (2014). The Student Guide to Writing: Playwriting. [online] thestudentguidetowriting. Available at: http://thestudentguidetowriting.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/The-Student-Guide-to-Writing-Lesson-Plan-Three-Structure-by-John-Yorke.pdf [Accessed 25 Feb. 2017].

[noahpoligy]

[Archive] Original Lyrics - 2016

Haven’t looked at any of these in ages... So it’s probably mostly shit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I'm riding this dark train on the railway ridden of knives slitten by the children of my day

Now please help me figure it out We both don't need this but please I need it now, I need the closure If you can't, I might just run away

Baby why have you ran away? I miss you so much I know it wasn't significant to you All I needed to stay sane was your touch

And here I am now On this dark train Possibly riding backwards on the blood stained railway Possibly not, but I've always had my doubts Please, I don't want to hurt another please tell me that you don't blame me Can you just tell me you're ok?

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I don't know if my life has been a shithole since forever Or if it's just that we have a weird synergistic effect But I feel me around you I've never felt myself before. Belonging is for fucking losers That's fine, I'll lose with you.

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I've loved you all my life Ever since my eyes found your face and I'll love you til the day I die I don't care if you won't miss me when I'm gone Because I've loved you all my life I can't stop it, it's an uncontrollable beast I have my love, but my will is good so that's ok Jumping off the edge of a cliff to save your life Yeah, I'll do that and ride a wyvern To safe you from your strife. You may not need saving Yeah, you've told me that That's ok. I wouldn't have it any other way You're not a princess, my love You're my queen. And I'll cherish you til the day I die. Even if you're killer, I'll love you all my life I wish I could stay, I've tried and tried. But the signals are vacant in your eyes I've loved you all my life And I'll love you til the day I die Goodbye.

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You're the enemy You'll be the end of me as my heart is falling down until it hits this chunk of dust that keeps my brain from withering into a crisp so please know that You're the enemy You'll be the end of me My pain is safe and sound as long as you stay away Have you heard the news that I hate you? So get the fuck away from me You're the enemy You'll be the end of me We send our ashes to the empire where they sell our lungs and give us black eyes Staple your artieries to the ceiling Baby you know fighting is a waste of time You're the enemy You'll be the end of me You stole my carton of blood You sold my soul to the highest bidder You ate my fingers and stole my tongue You're the enemy You'll be the end of me I'm not even flesh and bone I'm just a skeleton Rattling down the street in the best damn suit I own.

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Rattle Street

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WELL GATHER AROUND I'LL TELL YOU A STORY OF HOW I GREW OLD, AND BABY IT'S FULL OF CONTRITION I THINK I NEED YOU TO BREAK THE MOLD. IT STARTED WITH A VAN CRUSHING MY SEAT AND MY TONGUE HEARING MY OWN HEART BEAT THEN I WAS 27, AND I SLEPT FOR 4 YEARS THE STORY IS A DREAM, A COMA TODAY I WAKE UP AND I THINK POLITICS STINK

WELL GATHER AROUND AND I'LL TELL YOU A STORY OF MARTYRS ARE SHEEP HER NAME WAS JOAN OF ARC, AND SHE WAS A HERO OF SHEEP SHE SAVED THEM FROM GOD, AND GAVE THEM HEROINE AND THEN I WOKE UP, AND WROTE THIS BOOK IT'S FULL OF STORIES OF THE TIME OF WHEN I WAS GROWING OLD

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we killed the girls To get paid and put the whole damn room on the edge of the grave is it hard to stay clean? and if the world stops believing I'll keep believing that the world can make a change and put the suicidal dogs in their sedated cage so come hard and stay clean we're singing this song for the damned now, hallelujah But god is gone and if you keep beleiving we won't believe in you and throw your record out and live that life that you made yeah we're just gonna take it so grab the cash and run and watch the suitors find each other and kill one another it doesn't matter if our words don't mean a thing you just gotta keep on believing

well alright through blacks and blues you keep the faith there ain't a dry eye left in this hell of a place is it hard to stay clean? well if you are then I'll start believing that the world has a saint and put a shotgun shell in the side of his head so come hard and forget clean we're singing this song for the damned now, hallelujah cuz god is gone and if you keep believing we won't believe you and throw your record out and live that life you made yeah we're just gonna take it it doesn't matter if our words don't mean a thing you're just gonna keep on believing

hallelujah hallelujah god is gone hallelujah hallelujah god is gone hallelujah hallelujah god is gone hallelujah hallelujah god is gone

hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah god isn't gone and if you aren't believing I won't believe you and throw your record out and take back that life I made yeah I'm just gonna take it so grab your rags and run and I'll watch the suitors trip all over and kill one another it doesn't matter if my words don't mean a thing I cross my heart and hope to die, destroya isn't gone

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perfectly you

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You can't use my friends Cuz I don't have one left I'm trying to catch just one but they all end up splattering on the floor These hands, stained white, with a touch of silk they're too afraid to reach out for more.

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with death we shed life

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The world can just role by talking about education, equal rights, climate change, and terrorism and I'll just be here, trying to find myself

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being told lies. responding with lies. creating lies. living a lie. lies. lives. there is a v in between, that's the only difference.

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Yes, I am confined to a scar. I return at night to hide with them. I feel blood on my face. My skin is cold. It peels. It creates a stronger shade of urine. Son, man, warrior It creates a stronger shade of urine. Wife, friend, lover I was falsely linked to my heart. When others cry and I feel comfortable. I know that he is only 6 years old at the most. However, if you open a mixed inserts 12. I do not care what people say. I'm going to find my way, my way. I spent my time I've had my share. And boring as hell. Bored as hell Give me a sign. Show me the way. Really real. I also found my pulse. It's gone. The truth is flowing out of your mouth He knows that this love will always continue. always And I will always wait for you. I gave up persecution for nothing. He is dead to me. I am dead to him I know more than you thought I knew. I feel at home in black and blue. Yes, I am confined to a scar. I returned at night to hide with them. I felt the blood on my face. Cold, cold as hell like the devil. The world is screwed. So am I. The world is in bankruptcy. Tick Tock goes the clock.

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Lets go insane Lets get guns Lets shoot up some broken down homes full of mindless walking corpses. Lets sell drugs Lets get high Let me lose my life with you by my side It's superficial, yeah Baby my world is just getting started Lets kill a man Lets skin his dog Lets get married under-missile-tow You know the value of a man is from the length of his beard and the girth of his co METAL BAT BELTBUCKLE UNLEASH THE FUCKING BATS Baby my hearts got nine volts, would you care to make it ten? tick tock big bad baby, time is up BOOM BOOM BOOM.

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The fire station bells are ringing and all the children are running out of class everybody run, everybody scream we all gotta get out of here, the scarecrow is running free

All the super-malls are full of thieves theres just me here listening to a song and it's about romeo moaning, him saying "You belong to me I believe" It doesn't matter though, so I'll just say the next line, you better leave

As the perilous mongrals watch as all the civilians leave with our jetpacks on our backs and gasoline in our hands

Now at dawn all the scarecrows and their tick tock tin-man crow round up all the lions of men just to see what they'll do They'll bring them back to the tanning salon Then skin them alive

From the prospects of Death Canyon To the peak of Mount Mitchell The scarecrows run it all, we humans are no more It isn't fun. But that's alright. Some of us got out of there. We ran free.

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I yelled back I'll wrote a song and I remember what I did was wrong Painting pictures of a lovely girl Even though our friendship was sterile

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One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven Eight. Honey, I think we lost track of how many pills we ate

Woooooooooooooooooah Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah The pain I'll cause is set in stone The pain I caused won't bring me home This melting feeling is seeping in I hate it I hate it Honey please I can't take it any more Bright eyes I want to take it off Big black eyes says no one gives a fuck

My arms are cracking My toes are blistering The worms inside my body are infesting in my lungs The gurgles from my ocean are heard from miles around Lashes from my past strike upon me

Blond hair, you told me you wanted to find love Blond hair all I could find was death

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Tears weeping from the taps This heart is a vacant shrine that you try to break all the time

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Yeah girl, I've loved you all these years For whatever reason I still keep a photo around with your blonde hair, your pretty smile Some may say it's obsessive I've been called your stalker I don't think I'll ever fall out of love with you Believe me, I bet we all wish we could We've got some scars locked up inside One day I just wish you would let me take them Throw them into the illusions of a perfect guide To this life we lose. To this life we create One day we'll be together That's what's said in optomistic, ignorant songs This one is realistic I don't think we will be together Hell, I doubt you even have a sliver of emotion left for me I hope you do, it gives me strength You could give me a solid right hook, it would make all the difference I kind of wish we spoke Last time we truly have was that early summer of 15' We got high. Laughed. Enjoyed ourselves. It felt like you were my friend. It was true hapiness. It's sad that I can't even talk to you. You're the reason I go back to your school Hoping something would happen Like in those TV shows or animes It's funny, I even sit in that spot in the back near the window, where the kid with crazy hair daydreams One day I'll find my calling. And I hope, one day, you will call me your friend.

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You twist my arm I'm twisting fate You'll live alone

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No one loves being secluded But here I am, away from everyone I always plan to meet a friend But that feeling of contrition always bites me as I walk out the door I just turn around, walk back inside, and lock the door. The things on the outside can't harm me inside But the things on the inside can destroy my mind I'll lose all my friends but not those that love me They already know that I'm a fuck But they will slowly erode away Like a mountainside in a sandstorm Some days I want to be let out of this cage that is my depression But later at night, I'll crawl up to it and hide Letting it shield me from the evil critters of planet Earth While it nibbles away at my brain Driving me insane and wanting to harm those I abandoned.

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You don't tell people things and they call you a liar. You tell them the truth and they judge you.

So what's the point of this relationship

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Dad.

Though he's gone, I no longer have any fear or regret. He was a part of my creation and without him I could cease. I am now seeing the world through his shades that protected his eyes from the dust and sun that tried to blind them. I now use the headphones that shut all the madness out and played a treble tune. He's gone forever and ever like a phantom fading in the sun. He is now the fuel for my engine, the inspiration for my adolescent desires. He's gone. His memory will carry on, I swear to god. Believe me. This engine will never give out. Not until there is a newer model to take my drive.

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Been one week we've been living and your smiles are giving me all types of treble Weak esteem I've been given and your smiles are making my eyes starlit and marble I've been living by your rules can you be by my side It's getting kind of hard to breath in all these lies and metal I'm dying from all this treble, can you step on my pedal, baby I'm your light Weak knees have given in and now I'm dancing to your smile She's sweeter than electricity girl I'm your type She sucks an enemies milk now I've got nothing I've got a small notebook and that's something It's not love if it's just smiles. It's not love if, it's not you living

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Sometimes you miss old friends. Until you remember they weren't friends Your treasured memories always end in a crazy spin That is, when you meet them again It's that time again It's that time when they try to push their agenda They say they want whats best for me They try to give me pills Until they're gone They went them all down my throat And then they wonder why I shut-up I always crawl into my shell when people try to further their own agenda and don't care about me Yeah you may want me as a "friend" But you don't even want yourself as a friend Yeah once upon a time we were close but look at you now You're strung up on seven different types of shit I've watched you fall apart, and I've tried to help you up Hell, I even went under with you but I can't do that again My mind heart voice are all my favorite parts of me and I won't let anyone take that away from me Yeah I know that it'll dissapoint you but I can't help you out if you can't get over your shit Now I'm depressed Now I'm locked in my room It's not a waste of time I'm just getting all of this shit out of my mind You can't tell me how to live my life Trust me, you don't even know what the hell you're doing You can be friend enemy child parent or any other time of family I don't care what you say unless you love me And even if you love me, I'll only take the parts I deem sincere. I'm not going to change my mind of this I'm breaking out of this shell No one else in the whole fucking world is like me No one else feels like me, I'M SURE OF IT You can't tell me how to be me Trust me, you don't even know who you are I'm not going to break down again I'm never going to change my mind If you die with me in mind Then I will live for you But I will only absorb the parts of you That will make me a better man. I will follow my heart. Even after letting you go Before or after you croak I want you to know I still love you

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I need to get out of this place This place of screaming and hatred But my only other option is to go to a place that is haunted by the soul of a figure that I once dispised I'd wake up to night terrors I'd fall asleep to fatigue I don't know if I can live like that way But i don't like if I can live where I am now Am I even ment to live at all? Breathing this foul air that not even a runaway could stay in Where will I go from here? I don't know I can't kill myself, that is not an answer Even though it's in my head, every day every hour, every minute. It's an option But it's one I'll never succumb to I'll have to go to that haunted place and face the demons Maybe they're angels in disguise Maybe it'll be the end of me Who knows. I'm on my way.

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You walk with confidence afar Drenched in red and black plaid You don't look my way You just keep marching on I dunno if we could've been at all You were so far away yet only a block away I've decided you'll never even know my name and just stroll away singing out of tune about a party at the end of the world without the two of us dancing to the music

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You are but a pill, just to help me sleep My weaknesses take vacations in my dreams And when I'm not sure you'll help me

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In this vanity I'm breaking lets me live like this and i'll puke in a bag while shaking and nevermind the friends I'm making and the beauty in that I'm faking Why the fuck am I living like this?

And the amount of times I've seen it and I hope I'm not mistaking that bones were made for breaking it's hard to say I'm shaking I don't know the choices that I'll make

You can't keep my mind But you can fuck my so called friends It doesn't matter how many times I scream it Never again Will I live my life like this?

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I've met death I've shaken his hand I'm terrified that one day I'll have to meet him again

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Why can't I let you go?

I don't want to feel my conscience I don't wanna live in the now I want to live in a life with the taste of your lips Dripping down from my own with my hands on your hips Cuddling in the daylight with a touch of affection I'm not going to cry now Even though that I know that'll never happen I guess I'll just have to shut my eyes and wait for the next day Role your fucking eyes baby, you know it isn't hard The things in my head make me look like I'm dead Yeah your friends are afraid of my looks back you know whats inside I'm just an innocent boy looking for a non-intimant friend To just hang around with and get fucking high To talk about whats wrong with our lives while singing to the tune of Kurt Cobains raspy voice drinking coffee on a school-day afternoon Even though that I know that'll never happen I guess I'll just have to shut my eyes and wait for the next day Role your fucking eyes baby, you know it isn't hard Even though that I know that'll never happen I guess I'll just have to shut my eyes and wait for the next day Role your fucking eyes baby, you know it isn't hard Why are you staying in my head? Are you telling me it's the only place you fucking belong? Get the hell out. I've unlocked all the windows I've unlocked all the doors I've thrown you the keys but you won't leave this house I don't get it

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Sleeping just results a horror movie playing in my head Dreams of stabbing or being stabbed Nightmares of drowning or being robbed

[sketchbook-project-ba1b-1602522]

“Grave of the Fireflies Essay, Draft 3 - Narratology″ - 10.02.2017

‘Walt Disney once remarked that. “We like to have a point to our stories, not an obvious moral but a worthwhile theme.” For this essay, I will analyse ‘Grave of the Fireflies’ as an example of moral storytelling’ [L1] 

By Harrison Ashe  

From cave-man painting on walls to the latest Disney movie, humans have been telling stories for centuries. But why do we tell stories? A story is a device, a tool for learning that engages both our human emotions, and memory. They’re a “blueprint for survival” (Yorke), a way of teaching others about the world around us; acting as “a rehearsal for real life” (Yorke) by showing the solutions to a problem through narrative. Another important factor is how a narrative is told, taking into account the structure in order to engage the listener, ensuring the tale will be remembered, and the point of the story is understood. A successful example of this would be ‘Grave of the Fireflies’(),[L2]  an animated war drama based in Japan during the events of WWII, following our protagonist ‘Seita Yokokawa’; a fourteen-year-old boy and his four-year-old sister: ‘Setsuko Yokokawa’. After he and his sister lose their mother in the Kobe firebombing, life becomes a constant struggle for these orphans of war to survive.

The film is based on a semi-autobiographical novel written by Akiyuki Nosaka, re-telling his and his sister’s past experiences [L3] during Japan’s ‘economic crisis and growing militarism.’ It was written as an apology to his own sister ‘Seita’, to “honour his sister” and personally cope with his “tremendous sense of guilt” (Masako N Racel, pg. 56)[L4]  [L5] he felt due to her treatment. Akiyuki Nosaka [L6] had many offers to adapt his novel, but declined due to his belief that live-action was unable to accurately portray the young protagonists and the time, until he was approached by ‘Isao Takahata’ from ‘Studio Ghibli’ who convinced him with storyboards that animation was the perfect medium to convey the themes of the story since “one can have even more freedom all while opening on reality[L7] ” (Isao Takahata, date for this source), due to the nature of animation being able to replicate whatever can be drawn, including Nosaka’s memories of the war.

Production began and the movie premiered in Japan on 16 April 1988. An estimated budget of “$3,700,000” () was needed for this 2-D animated film, with a “run-time of 89 minutes” (). The animation used in ‘Grave’ is hand-drawn 2-D cel animation, captured using 35mm negatives[L8] . Most cel illustration outlines in ‘Grave’ are drawn in brown, instead of customary black. This artistic decision was “done on a challenge”( Colour co-ordinator Michiyo Yasuda), making it hard to work with due to it not contrasting as well as black, but provides the movie with softer visuals.

The story opens on a shot of our protagonist ‘Seita’, as he speaks the opening line “21st September, 1945. That was the night I died” (Grave of the Fireflies, 1988), engaging the audience by plotting the demise of our lead protagonist at the start, thus informing the viewer of the tragic story that is to ensue, and breaking the stereotype of ‘animation being for kids’ “by not being confined to the fantastic or imaginary” (Isao Takahata), [L9] a trope associated with animation due to Disney’s movies being so prolifically popular among children today due to their fairy tale stories. Seita watches from the afterlife, as he lies dying in a train station, he utters his last word ‘Setsuko’, conveying his “love” (Nosaka, year) for his sister before death. The protagonist dies and more deceased children are revealed in the station, highlighting the horror of 1945, informing those about the suffering of the civilians during the war. A small fruit drops tin[L10]  is hurled into a field, revealing the tins contents to be bones and ash. Fireflies take to the sky, illuminating the surroundings as Setsuko’s spirit rises from the tin. Setsuko’s spirit is then reunited with Seita’s spirit, fulfilling Seita’s promise to Setsuko.

On 16th March, 1945, the firebombing of Kobe ensues. After finding out of his mother’s death, Seita lies to Setsuko, saying their mother had been hospitalised. “He decides to become the guardian of his little sister.” (Akiyuki Nosaka) Seita is forced “to grow up quickly” (), killing his own emotions and lying about the ordeal for the wellbeing of his sister, displaying very human emotions “through the small details” (Isao Takahata) of his character as he desperately distracts himself from the truth in order to shield Setsuko.

One night, the two siblings capture and release fireflies into their shelter’s enclosure, watching in awe as they illuminate the darkness. Seita then talks about a naval review, flashing back to a celebration of his father’s fleet, sugar-coating war as being heroic and honourable. Before sleeping, Seita rolls over to his sister and embraces her as she sleeps, hinting towards his yearning for ‘love’ and his ‘dependency’ on her. They sleep separated, expressing the feeling of loneliness from Seita’s expression. In the morning, Seita finds Setsuko making a grave for the fireflies, she also reveals her knowledge of their mother’s death. Setsuko scoops up a handful of fireflies and places them in the grave, a sudden flash of their mother appears being thrown into a mass grave, revealing the strong symbolism of human lives being fireflies. This scene is as impactful as it is because of the visual cue we receive when burying the fireflies, allowing us to make the symbolic connection between the two, strengthened further through the use of a ‘Kamekaze’ being compared to a firefly earlier. Seita breaks down, the realisation to him and the viewer that he cannot protect Setsuko from this war. “Why do fireflies have to die so soon?” the framing [L11] of this scene implies that Setsuko is asking the audience this question, giving the audience “two plus two” and compelling them “to conclude the answer” (Stanton, year) in order to provoke thought, and engage the brain to search for the answer through the events seen in the movie and come to a conclusion. [L12] The two observing the grave while two orange fireflies dance until they fade into darkness, foreshadowing the two siblings’ inevitable death.

Throughout the movie, we see scenes revealing Seita’s inner emotions from the bleak situations he finds himself in, pushing the fact that despite his maturity, he is still a child. Occasionally, the two swap roles momentarily. As Setsuko inquires about the pain of her brothers wounds, she “assumes the role of the mother” (Nosaka), highlighting Setsuko’s love and resolve to help her brother. Even when Setsuko is suffering from malnutrition and needs food, she offers it all to Seita despite her hunger. Through these moments, their mutual dependencies on one another is revealed, and past this point she slowly begins to fill “the role of his lover” () as the story approaches its climax. “Don’t leave me alone!”() Setsuko pleds, which Seita then assures that he’s never leave her again, “I promise.” () [L13] Calling back to the beginning were Seita dies in order to be with Setsuko, fulfilling the promise in this “double-suicide story.” (Nosaka), similar to the tragic ending of Shakespeare’s lovers: Romeo and Juliet.

Due to starvation, Setsuko beings suffering from delusions, and is found sucking on a marble in substitution of a fruit drop, a vivid reminder of the desperate situations they faces. Additionally, this child’s toy that, in any normal situation, would be associated with joy takes on a darker theme, displaying the war as an end to peace and happiness. Seita leaving a watermelon by her side so he can cook a nourishing meal for her. “She never woke up.” (?) Through flashbacks, we’re shown new scenes of Setsuko’s days at the shelter, playing, eating like any other child in order to evoke an emotion just after the story reached its emotional climax. [L14] Seita cremates Setsuko along with her possessions, apart from the fruit drops tin that he keeps, unable to move on from this tragedy. He watches the flames from morning till night, unable to move on while fireflies take to the sky above, conveying is loneliness and loss of hope without his sister as his dependency, adhering to “The Panacea Reason” that “without hope we wouldn’t survive”. Seita fills the tin with Setsuko’s ashes[L15] , showing his resolve to maintain his promise and never leave her again, one that is fulfilled through his suicide to be reunited with her in the after-life. Setsuko’s spirit joins Seita on a bench, hinting back to their reunification at the beginning and contextualising his promise, perishing in the station to join his sister in the after-life. The two, along with other souls, assemble and observe from atop a hill the illuminated, rebuilt city of Kobe[L16] , the light being used symbolically, as “the return of light implies the return of peace.”

               Throughout the movie, the audience has witnessed multiple emotional cues favouring an anti-war mentality. From Setsuko directly addressing the audience on why life is lost, to the tragic end to these innocent orphans of war. The movie successfully conveys the moral subtly, giving the audience “the pieces and compels them to conclude the answer” (Andrew Stanton) by using dialogue and visual cues, rewarding the viewer when finding the answer for themselves. Hence why ‘Grave of the Fireflies’ works so well as “The Psychological Reason”, “The Panacea Reason” and “The Information Retrieval Reason” (John Yorke, Into The Woods) narrative. “Psychological” because Akiyuki Nosaka reasons for writing the story for redemption. “Panacea” since the loss of Setsuko strongly adheres to the loss of hope described by John Yorke. This movie, through animation preserves the painful memories of 1945 Japan as a constant reminder of the horror of war, done to educate others that the loss of peace will be the death of humanity.