#Why should you eat Drinken

[ruthieluvsbooks]

gwynriel- sick day one shot

Gwyn felt like shit. She had woken up with a raging headache, cramps that made her feel like her stomach was being cut out, and nausea that had her in a constant state of dizziness. Gwyn still had trouble going into Velaris, or leaving the library at all. She had gone flying with Azriel a few times, and had picnics with emerie and nesta in secluded meadows. However, once Nesta brought home food from a restaurant her and Cassian had gone to, she told Gwyn to try a bite and ever since then, Gwyn was hooked. Nesta brought Gwyn back meals every time she and Cassian went to that restaurant. Last night, Gwyn had been up late working to avoid nightmarish sleep, she had realized she worked through dinner when she remembered that Nesta had gotten her a meal. She asked the house to prepare it for her, though the house tried to get her to eat soup, sandwiches, chicken, anything else- now she knew why. Something had been off with the meal when Gwyn ate it, but she was too tired and hungry to care. It wasn’t until she woke up with all of her symptoms that she remembered Nesta had brought her back that meal a week ago.

She had skipped training in favor of lying in bed in misery for the morning, then she got up at the normal time she started work, so she wouldn’t be berated by Merrill. That was a useless hope, Gwyn could be the walking, talking, working image of perfection and Merrill would still find something to nitpick. So, here Gwyn was, working in the lower levels of the library, putting back heavy, old tomes Merrill was done with so the acolytes wouldn't have to, and searching for Merrill’s new requests. Gwyn was on the last tome, she picked it up from the cart only to realize it belonged on the top shelf. The shelves on the lower levels of the library were ridiculously tall and treacherous, whoever had designed them had “torturing librarians for all of time” as a vision. She hefted the tome and reached her arms as far as they would go above her head. Her arms began to shake and sweat broke out on her forehead. Ridiculous, Gwyn thought to herself, you lift two times this weight in training. She refused to back down from the challenge, she lifted onto her tippy toes and -just- managed to get the tome where it belonged. Her moment of success was fleeting however, as she came down from her tippy toes and dropped her arms, the world began to spin. Gwyn reflected on how she hadn’t drinken any water today; without Cassian and Azriel screaming at her to hydrate, she had forgotten. Her last thought was thinking about how much pain she was in all over her body, before the world went black.

***

Azriel had an anxious feeling that he couldn’t get rid of. It began when he showed up in the ring for training, proud of himself for beating Gwyn there; only to realize after all the priestesses began filing in, that Gwyn wasn’t coming. He shot a look to Nesta who shrugged, and then training began. Everyone needs a day off sometimes, he told himself. Although he had never taken one, he begrudgingly admitted in his head that he probably should. Throughout training, his shadows had been stroking his cheek, back, hands, like they were comforting him- which made no sense because he had no need to be comforted.

After training, Azriel debated going down to the library to visit Gwyn, check up on her. Then he realized he’d probably just be a nuisance, getting in the way of her important research, so he went to his room to finalize some reports of missions he had been on recently. He couldn’t tear his thoughts away from Gwyn however, he wondered what she would have thought about the missions, what conclusions would she have come to? Would she be interested in being a spy one day? She had the talent for it, she was lithe and graceful, quiet when she needed to be- though he very much enjoyed the sounds of her voice and laughter. After their run-in in the training ring after the Solstice, they had met a few other times. Azriel had gone up to work off frustration, sadness, or fear and seen Gwyn- determined as ever- working on her skills. At first, they worked separately in silence, until Azriel heard Gwyn grunt a few too many times and he knew she was struggling with a skill. He turned around and raised a brow at her scowling down at the dagger in her hand. “Stupid dagger,” she had muttered. He had quirked a smile then, and asked her what the dagger had done to her. Through their few one on one sessions, he knew Gwyn had the talent to do anything she wanted.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by his shadows rushing around frantically, a few pulled at his wrists, as if trying to lead him somewhere. What’s wrong? He asked them, curious as to why they were so panicked, he had almost never seen them act like this. She’s hurt, they whispered back. His thoughts immediately turned to the worst, what if she’s seriously injured? or d-. No shadowsinger. But she does need help. Azriel rushed to the library. His shadows nipped at his heels and tugged at his wrists, urging him faster. He opened the door to the library, “Clothlo, do you know where Gwyn is?”

“No, I do not know where Gwyneth is. She is under Merrills service, usually running around all over.” Clothlo wrote back.

“Do I have permission to enter the library? Gwyn wasn’t at training this morning and I’d like to check in on her.”

“You have permission, Shadowsinger,” Clotho wrote. Azriel nodded thanks and walked as briskly as he could away, without seeming rude or panicked. His shadows were never wrong, but on the off chance they were this time, he didn’t need to start a mass panic in a library full of survivors that came here for peace. His shadows urged him faster and faster, but he refused to run, lest he make a priestess or acolyte anxious. Speaking of anxiety, his was steadily rising; the possibilities of what could be wrong with Gwyn were endless, if no one else in the library seemed distressed, she may have been hurt by herself somewhere.

His suspicions were confirmed when he was guided by his shadows to the lower levels of the library, most priestesses and acolytes avoided going there. There was something eerie, an older magic that lived in those tomes. He saw a hand sticking out from between shelves, a pale, freckled, limp hand that he recognized. He ran towards it, staring in shock for a moment when he found her, then snapping into action. It looked as though Gwyn had fallen on top of a cart meant for carrying items throughout the vast library. Her body was contorted into weird angles as it laid on top of the cart. She had a layer of sweat covering her face and she looked paler than usual, leading Azriel to assume she had skipped training because she was sick. He gingerly scooped her body off the cart and into his arms, the way her head lulled had his heart squeezing. If he couldn't have felt her small, shallow breaths on his neck, he would have suspected she was dead. She had bruises that developed on her arms and legs from the fall, he was sure she had some on her back as well. The sight of yellow, purple, and blue spots on her beautiful skin made him feel sick to his stomach. How do I get out of here without being seen? Azriel asked his shadows. After the violence many of these priestesses had witnessed, the last thing they needed to see was more evidence of pain. His shadows guided him through empty rows of shelves until he was back at the door. “I think she’s sick, she may have overworked herself and passed out.” He quickly explained to Clothlo on his way out, He wasn’t trying to dismiss her, but Gwyn needed medical help. As soon as he had made it back into the House, he shouted for Cassian. Luckily he was close by, when he saw Gwyn in Azriel’s arms his eyes widened and a question began to come out of his mouth. Azriel cut him off, “fly to the river house, tell Rhys we need Madja, or just go to Madja’s clinic directly. Gwyn is sick, I don’t know with what. Go now.” There must have been something in his eyes that told Cassian this wasn’t a time to delay with questions because Cassian backed out onto a balcony and took off immediately. Nesta must have been reading in the upstairs library, and overheard Azriel’s shouts because she came down moments after Cassian had left.

“What are you screaming abo-. Fuck, what happened!” Nesta ran to Azriel and examined Gwyn closer.

“I don’t know, she’s sick I think. I found her collapsed in the library. Where is her room?” Azriel asked, Nesta had set up rooms for Gwyn and Emerie in the House, though they largely went unused, Nesta wanted to make her sisters feel at home in her home. Nesta nodded at Azriel’s question, realizing too that this was a time for solutions and help, not questions and standing around. She led him to the bedroom and Azriel gently set Gwyn down on the bed.

“I’m going to go get water, and a wet washcloth, I’ll be back,” Nesta said, and practically ran out the door. Azriel shared her sense of confused panic, he was itching to help Gwyn but he didn’t know how.

“Why did you have to work while you were sick? Take a day off, Gwyn.” Azriel murmured to her as he brushed hair strands off her forehead.

“Says you,” came back a very groggy, rough, and quiet voice. Even distorted, Azriel would recognize that voice anywhere. He looked down to find a dazed Gwyn with her eyes barely open. She tried to pick her head up and made it all of an inch before she plopped her head back down with a groan.

“Don’t,” Azriel told her, “rest, Nesta’s getting some water and a washcloth for your head, Cassian is getting Madja. What happened?” He had to work to keep his demanding, all-work-no-play voice out of his question. He was stressed, but he didn’t blame Gwyn.

“Bad food,” Gwyn said, Azriel nodded as his shadows went up to caress her face and hair. She seemed settled by them, Azriel noticed, an interesting reaction to his shadows. Most people leaned away from them, and his shadows never left his side. They had begun to wander throughout their training sessions however. Never so bold as to swarm her outright, he guessed both him and his shadows did weird things when Gwyn was in distress. He tried not to think about the panic that was still wedged in the back of his mind, how he had gone into a complete focus of getting Gwyn to safety. He appreciated her friendship was all, he was sure she’d do the same for him. “Bored of me already, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn’s croaky voice whispered. He looked down to see an attempted smirk on her face, it came off as a grimace. “Where did you go just then?” She pushed. Azriel was forming a better response than “I was thinking about you” when Nesta, Cassian, and Madja all entered the room.

“Everyone out, I need to speak with Gwyneth.” Madja stated. Nesta and Cassian made pained expressions but turned to leave. They were all worried for Gwyn. Azriel was in the middle of losing a staredown with Madja when Gwyn grabbed his hand with her shaky one. She gave hima look of fear and he cursed himself for not remembering that the last time she had been alone in a room with Madja was moments after she had been assaulted.

“I won’t get in your way, but I’m staying.” Azriel said in a resolute tone. Madja nodded reluctantly, she was probably used to this behavior from Rhys and Cassian with their mates. Azriel pushed the thoughts of that comparison out of his mind.

“Gwyneth, can you tell me when you started feeling symptoms and what they were?” Madja asked gently. She reached into her bag and pulled out a few tonics, Azriel guessed she would pick the right one based on Gwyn’s story.

“I, I was working late last night and I started feeling shaky and having stomach aches, I realized I hadn’t eaten after breakfast,” Azriel scowled slightly at that admission, “so I went to my room to eat dinner, I was so tired I forgot how long it had been since Nesta brought me the food I was eating.” Gwyn made a disgusted face, “I think it was old, like really old.” She swallowed and then widened her eyes before lurching forward to empty her stomach. Azriel reacted quickly and grabbed a trash can from under her nightstand before anything came out. He held her hair up with one hand while holding the bucket with the other. He didn’t quite trust her shaky hands. Gwyn wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and spit. She groaned and fell back, “I thought I was done with that this morning.”

Madja reached a hand out towards Azriel, he did nothing, confused for a second, before he realized she wanted to examine Gwyn’s… sickness for clues to her illness. “Keep going, Gwyneth.”

“Please, call me Gwyn. I remember passing out after eating, then waking up and running to the bathroom because I was sick. I sat on the bathroom floor for an hour or two, having alternate waves of cramps and nausea. Then I got chills, so I went to lay back in bed. I tried to sleep but my head was pounding. I sipped water until I could stand to get dressed and work. I tried not to move around too much, mostly catching up on copying research pages. Until Merrill needed new tomes, I went down to the lower library levels, and I remember I was really shaky, the books were too heavy all of a sudden, and then I collapsed.” When Gwyn’s hand started patting the bed until she found his and grabbed it, Azriel realized they had been holding hands right up until Gwyn threw up. He hadn’t even noticed, a brand new concept for him, to lose awareness of his hands while touching someone else.

Madja nodded while Gwyn talked. She had set the vomit-bucket aside, Azriel made a mental note to clean that up. “You’ll need water, lots of it. This is a tonic to help with the pains,” Madja pointed to a bottle set on the other nightstand. “Take one cup,” she indicated to a small cup near the bottle, “every 3 hours. Get lots of rest, no work or training for at least 3 days. Balanced sleep and meals will help this not happen again.” Madja finished. Gwyn nodded, taking in everything Madja had said.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, and held out his hand for Madja to shake. Madja took it, then headed towards the door, Azriel assumed, to get a ride home from Cassian. Azriel stood up and walked to the other side of the bed, poured out the medicine for Gwyn and held it close to her. “Can you hold it?” He asked, unsure if her shakiness had continued, Gwyn lifted a wobbly hand, Azriel grabbed it in his own and placed it gently back down on the bed. “Here,” he said, and lifted the cup to Gwyn’s mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Gwyn’s lip felt against his thumb, when he noticed she was done, he reluctantly pulled his hand away. Gwyn made a face and he laughed, “no one ever said tonics tasted good.”

“I feel like I just licked the training mat.” Gwyn said. Azriel chuckled at that and held a glass of water up to her mouth.

“This will help wash it down,” he said. Gwyn took a few small sips of water, her eyes fluttering closed frequently. Azriel set the water cup back on the nightstand, “rest, Gwyn.”

***

Gwyn woke up to cool, light, tickles on her hands and face. She opened her eyes to see dark wisps and a face, a blurry one, but one she recognized. “Sorry they woke you up, it’s time for more tonic.”

“It’s…okay,” Gwyn said, “are they sentient? Do they make their own choices? How are they cold…?” Gwyn asked rapid fire questions. “Oh, no, please don't make me take more,” she complained as Azriel poured another cup of tonic.

“You drink, I answer questions,” Azriel said, knowing Gwyn’s curious mind would go to many lengths for answers- including drinking tonic that tasted like sweaty training mats apparently. As she swallowed the tonic and reached for the water glass he was holding out, he began answering her questions, “I’m not sure if they’re sentient, I don't know if they feel things… they’re definitely sapient, they can think their own thoughts, make their own choices, though they often don’t. It seems they only stray from my instructions to bother you,” he gave her a small smile. “I’m not sure why or how they’re cold, aren’t shadows always cool? Standing in them can give you a chill.” Azriel finished.

“They don’t bother me,” Gwyn said, “I think they’re nice.”

Azriel stared in disbelief, “‘nice’ isn’t a word commonly used to describe my shadows…”

“Well, I like them.” Gwyn said with a smile, before her face contorted with pain. “Owww, remind me to never eat food again.”

“Where does it hurt?” Azriel asked, feeling slightly panicked that she was in pain.

“My stomach, it’s like period cramps. They hurt so bad.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“A heat pad would be nice.” Gwyn said, rolling on her side and curling up. Azriel nodded and left the room to get a head pad, he left most of his shadows with Gwyn to help comfort her.

When he came back in the room, Gwyn wasn’t laying on the bed, his heart began to beat faster before he saw the bathroom door open. “Gwyn?” He called out, “are you in there?” He didn’t want to intrude, even if the door was left open.

“Unfortunately.” Was the response he got back.

“Can I come in?”

A sigh, “I guess.” Azriel walked into the bathroom to see Gwyn leaning against the bathtub with her hair down.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused at her reluctance and down-turned mood.

“You could have told me I looked this awful.” Gwyn began, “I mean I'm fully aware that everyone else in this house is effortlessly beautiful, but I have to say, manage my gross, tangled hair and ice my puffy, dark eyes.”

Azriel almost felt defensive hearing Gwyn insult her hair and eyes. Those had to be two of his favorite of her physical features. “You don’t look awful,” he frowned, “you were sick, you look a little pale, but not awful, not anywhere close.”

Another sigh, “whatever, I wanted to wash my hair once I saw this rat's nest but I can’t even brush through it without my arms getting tired.”

Here goes nothing, Azriel thought to himself. “Do you… want me to help you?”

“… Would you?”

“What do you need me to do?” Azriel asked. Now fully focused on his task.

“I usually brush my hair and then wash it, the brush is right here, if you ask the House nicely it’ll probably bring you my shampoo and conditioner from the priestess dorms.” As she said that a tray with two bottles of soaps appeared on the vanity.

“Are you comfortable there?” Azriel asked, he couldn’t imagine it was very nice leaning against the tub, plus it might complicate the hair washing process.

Gwyn grunted, “‘not really… but i’m so tired,” she flopped her hands uselessly.

Azriel walked out of the bathroom and grabbed a cushy but short chair from the bedroom. He moved it in front of the vanity sink. Gwyn gestured vaguely towards the chair, “so close, yet so far.”

“Want some help?” Azriel said with an arched eyebrow. He had no doubts she was sore and tired, but he was amused by her dramatics. Gwyn lifted her arms up like she wanted to be carried.

“Escort me to my throne please, sir.” Azriel laughed.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t talk back to your queen,” Gwyn scolded, “but yes, I’m sure.” Azriel picked her up with a hand under her knees and back. Then he carried her over to the chair and set her down. He went back into the room to grab the heat pad he had carried up and gave it to her. He grabbed the brush and brushed her hair as gently as he could. It really wasn’t as tangled as she made it seem. Then he gently tipped her head back into the sink and turned the water on. Once it was warm he got her hair wet, then poured some shampoo into his hand and massaged it into her scalp. “That feels so good, what, do you just have magic hands?” Gwyn blushed immediately, “I… um, this is nice.”

Azriel had to resist a chuckle at her accidental innuendo, “I’m glad to help.” Once he rinsed out the shampoo, he lathered conditioner onto the ends of her hair and rinsed it out. Then he grabbed one of the fluffy towels from off the hook on the wall and dried her hair with it. He wrapped her hair up in the towel and made sure any water droplets were off her face. “Alright, your Majesty, time to return to your bed.” Once Gwyn nodded at him, he picked her up once again and carried her into her room. When he laid her down on her bed and took his arms away, she held onto his hand.

“You should sit with me, the chair you pulled up doesn’t look particularly comfortable.” Azriel hesitated, but Gwyn had that look in her eyes that said she wasn’t compromising on this at all. He sighed and walked to the other side of the bed to sit down. He leaned against her headboard and undid the towel wrapping her hair. “Will you read to me? I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“As long as it’s not one of those smutty novels you, emerie, and nesta love so much,” Azriel said, smirking.

Gwyn slapped his arm weakly, “hush, it’s an adventure novel.”

Azriel smiled and picked the book up off the nightstand after the House magicked it in. Gwyn rolled onto her side, facing Azriel. Azriel began reading.

As they kept reading, they both slumped lower on the bed and into each other. At some point, Gwyn’s head and torso fell onto Azriels chest. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her steady. At another point, the book fell out of Azriel’s tired hand, and his other arm came around to hold her.

***

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know? Why would I know? I’ve never seen him like this.”

“She needs to take her tonic again, do you think we should wake them?”

“They both look so well rested.”

“You guys both suck at whispering,” Azriel croaked as he lifted his head off the top of Gwyn’s. Nesta and Cassian at least had the decency to look guilty at being caught. “She needs rest, when she wakes up, I’ll give her the tonic.” He laid his head back down and closed his eyes again. Because he didn’t hear any movement, he opened one eye, “that was a cue for you to leave.”

“Don’t hurt her.” Nesta warned with hard eyes. Then her eyes softened as she took in the scene once more, before pushing Cassian out the door and closing it behind them.

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x gwyn #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #nesta and cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian #nesta acosf #nesta archeron #nessian

[auspiciousotter]

M6 as Mythical Creatures--Julian

If you haven't read it: Prologue

It wasn’t uncommon for you to have visitors at odd hours. After all, wounds and other maladies did not wait until working hours to be healed. So when your wards alerted you to a presence at the door, you were unsurprised. What did catch you off guard was the lack of a knock at your door that normally accompanied these late night visits.

While you checked your wards to ensure that a stray deer hadn’t set them off, a large shadow cast upon you. Instantly you called upon your magic, ready to attack the intruder. However, the moment you turned to face them, you froze. Before you stood a tall pale man, dressed in dark colors, much like you would expect from a thief, but it was their expression that had you pausing.

This man was genuinely shocked and confused to see you.

“I, er, um...hello?” He asked, the small smile he gave exposing the sharp points of his teeth briefly.

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“I thought vampires weren’t allowed to enter buildings without permission.?”

If a vampire could blanche, this one would certainly be doing so. It was almost comical how animated he was considering how all other vampires you had met stuck to the same emotionless, brooding schtick. Honestly, seeing one become easily flustered was refreshing, though not enough for you to ignore the breaking and entering.

“H-how did you know?”

Rather than tell him, you pointed to your own teeth, and watched as realization dawned on him, and his skin took the faintest tinge to it, almost like a blush.

“Oh, right. Well, then in that case, to answer your question, yes, vampires must obey a rule of politeness and not enter an abode of which they’ve never been invited.” The vampire said dramatically, then smirked. “However, since this is my home, I don’t need permission.”

The man leaned forward, pressing you back against the walls, his arms trapping you on either side. Up close you could feel the warm air of his breath as he spoke, another unusual thing for his kind.

“So if anyone is trespassing, it isn’t me, now is it witchling?”

A flush crept up your neck. It had been so long since someone had even glanced your way in more than a platonic manner, and now a very attractive man was pinning you against the wall and whispering in your ear? Yeah, you had no chance.

But then, a thought occurred to you.

“Wait...if this is your house, why did you break in?”

“Well-I,that is, um…”

You broke out into laughter, startling him back away from you. His feet got caught up in a nearby stool, and honestly, you watched the whole thing happen, but you still have no idea how he ended up looking like a pretzel with his head stuck between the legs of said stool. It was impossibly funny, and when he looked up at you, pouting pathetically, you couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

After sorting out that mess, the two of you sat down to some tea and the vampire, Julian or Ilya, whichever you preferred, explained how this abandoned house had formerly been his residence until he’d gone off on a several decades long vacation.

The house had alway been in his family, though he and his sister were the last to live there, and it was here that he began his new life, or unlife? He wasn’t really sure. It was so long ago, and back then there wasn’t a whole lot known about non-human entities, except that they were most likely out to kill you, eat you, or on the rare occasion treat you to a fun party, and then kill and eat you. So needless to say, there wasn’t some sort of handbook explaining what he was when he was turned.

That had you curious, because besides some similar traits, as far as you could tell he wasn’t a vampire, and not a half-blood either. You even slipped a small trace of garlic into his tea when you prepared it, not enough to kill him, but enough that he should have noticed it right away from the smell.

He did not.

In fact, he went on to pour himself another serving, commending it as some of the best he’s drinken outside of this smoky tea he had in a far off land. Of course, when you’d planned your test, you hadn’t thought he’d drink more than one cup, so you quickly stopped him and admitted to what you’d done.

Julian only laughed at you, and continued to drink it. Apparently his resistance to garlic was something he was aware of, and that, with a number of other odd differences, was what separated him from true vampires.

This all came back to how he had been turned in the first place. Though many of the details were fuzzy, he can remember breaking into someone’s house, and the person being so furious they cursed him to be a vampire, so he could never break in again.

That had you rolling your eyes.

The night continued on pleasantly, the two of you sharing information of your past travels, and how you had come to life in his abandoned house. Speaking of, there was the small dilemma of what to do about that. Technically the place belonged to Julian and his sister, but since they had both left it, and you weren’t doing anything to destroy or otherwise harm their property, he didn’t see any reason to not let you stay.

The problem came down to where Julian should live then, as he’d hoped to return to the village for the next hundred or so years, until he got bored at least. He insisted on finding a new location, but you shut him down. The house was spacious enough for two people, and if he was going to be so kind as to let you live there, then he should get to stay.

Argument over, you cleaned up for the night and headed off to bed.

From then on the two of you continued to share a home, and a workplace. As it turned out, Julian had spent his so-called vacation learning about the field of medicine, and since the village folk were already coming to you for remedies, it made sense to expand the business to include a doctor service for things your magic couldn’t easily heal. Some changes had to be made to the house, including converting the spare room you’d been using as storage into a office for Julian, and charming the curtains in the house to block out extra light.

Somewhere along the way, you realized that you and him had fallen into a sweet domestic routine, much like a married couple, and you certainly bickered like one. Even further, you had fallen for him, deeply, but when you approached him about this, instead of the joyful response you’d expected, Julian frowned deeply and apologized.

The next few days were some of the hardest you’d ever lived through. No amount of betrayal from the towns you’d lived in could compare to the heart shattering feeling you got when you woke the next morning to find Julian and all his possessions gone, and only a hastily scribbled note left behind.

Three agonizing days passed, ones that had you plastering on your best smile and ignoring the curious question people had as to where the doctor went. On the fourth day, you decided not to open the shop, letting yourself rest, but just as you began to curl back up in bed, a familiar sound came from the kitchen. You rushed in, desperately praying your ears hadn’t deceived you, and smiled when you saw Julian flopped on the ground with a ginger cat by his side. The cat angrily bapped at his face, then hopped up onto the windowsill, watching him closely.

“Okay, okay, Pasha. No need for violence.” Julian said, standing up and brushing off his clothes. He looked thinner, you noticed, and more weary than usual. “Ah, hello MC. I came to apologize. You see, I never meant to make you fall for me, and you really shouldn’t because I’m only bad news I mean look at what happened to me and my sister and--”

HISS

“Ah, right, that’s...um, that’s why I left, but it was wrong of me. You see,” Julian stepped forward, tentatively lifting a hand to cradle your cheek. “I have fallen for you too, my dear. And despite my own insecurities, I would love nothing more than to be with you for as long as I can.”

Before he could say more, you pulled him in for a kiss.

There would be words later. He wasn’t off the hook for how he’d treated you, but you were willing to let it slide for the moment, just enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in his embrace. Afterall, witches lived very long lives, so there was plenty of time to sort out his punishment later.

#arcana #the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #the arcana julian #julian the arcana #the arcana headcanons #julian x reader

[tickly-trashcan]

Drunken Yaksha {XiaoVen}

A/N: This fic contains mild spoilers I think? Like for the main quest and Xiao’s story quest. I guess most people in the fandom already know anyway but if you aren’t aware and don’t wanna get spoiled then probably skip this one for now. I’ve had this idea for a while now and was pretty much dying to get it written out, thanks to my friend for proofreading for me! I also have no idea how alcohol works so please bear with this fic being very inaccurate in that regard. also don’t mind my poor editing skills, i tried my best lol.

Summary: Xiao has decided to peacefully finish his day with a bowl of almond tofu. That is, until a certain someone shows up.

Word Count: 2.5k (under the cut)

Xiao hiccuped, head on the table as someone next to him laughed. How had he gotten into this situation?

Xiao had been making his rounds near the Wangshu Inn, deciding to stop inside for some almond tofu. He had been peacefully enjoying his meal as he always did, sitting alone when suddenly an arm latched around his shoulder and a cheery voice yelled in his ear:

“Well, well! The Vigilant Yaksha! The one who guards the night and day, sending hilichurls and slimes away!”

Xiao groaned. He already knew who it was from the rhyming before turning his head, realizing that the Archon’s face was right next to his, their noses almost touching when Xiao turned. He jumped back, the Archon giggling as he floated away from Xiao, moving softly along the wind.

Xiao sighed. “What is it you wish to talk about, Barbatos?”

He shrugged. “I go by Venti now, no need for formality either. What’s that you’re eating? Can I try?”

Xiao narrowed his eyes at Venti and pulled the plate closer to him, making Venti giggle.

“Say, why don’t we spend the night together in Mondstadt? We have some catching up to do, I haven’t seen you in so long!” 

Xiao grumbled. It wasn’t like he could say no to Venti, he was the Anemo Archon, someone that Xiao had lots of respect for. He was also the person who had practically saved his life all those years ago… 

He could still hear it clearly, the sound of the dihua flute echoing through the harbor, finally bringing peace to the Yaksha’s unbearable suffering, even if just for a moment.

He had longed to hear that sound again, for it was one of the only things that made him feel free from his karmic binds, but pride was what kept him from ever seeking out the Archon to ask for him to play it once more.

“Are you spacing out now? Come on, if we head out now we’ll be able to reach Mondstadt before sundown!”

Venti hooked his arm around Xiao’s, the sudden contact making the Yaksha flush slightly. He pulled Xiao away from his table and out of the Wangshu Inn, dragging him along until they had made it roughly halfway back to Mondstadt.

“They have the best wine at the tavern! It’s Dandelion Wine, I even know where the cellar is that they keep it in!”

Xiao nodded as they walked along, listening to Venti as he gabbed on and on about this and that, frantically switching topics like that of a young child. It had been a while since Xiao had heard so much information at once, but he surprisingly didn’t mind the god’s company. 

His voice, much like his skill in instruments, was soothing, and it made him temporarily forget about his karmic binds.

“Oh look! We’re here! Now, is this your first time in Mondstadt?”

Xiao nodded quietly, and Venti quickly grabbed Xiao’s hand.

“I’ll show you around after we’ve had our drinks then!”

He pulled him along again, and warmth started to flutter in Xiao’s chest. What was this? He had never felt anything like this in all his long years, so why now…

“Diluc! Two rounds of Dandelion Wine, if you please!” Venti yelled as soon as he entered the tavern, and a tall, red-headed man groaned.

“Get out of my tavern if you’re not going to pay this time,” He said, shining a glass as Venti chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as Xiao took in the sights of the tavern around him.

The architecture was nothing like that in Liyue, from the size of the building that made Xiao feel slightly claustrophobic to the rich lighting that came from the candles that decorated the tavern.

“Just put it on my tab! Here, it’s not so crowded tonight, let’s go to the back!”

Xiao followed Venti who skipped to a table that sat in the far corner of the bar, where it was nice and quiet. Xiao smiled. He liked spaces like this.

“Oh? So you can smile!” Venti teased, poking Xiao’s cheek, who quickly pushed his hand away.

“I’m not… smiling,” Xiao said, sitting down. Venti chuckled, sitting across from him as Diluc brought them two tankards of wine, letting out a sigh as he watched Venti quickly start to guzzle his down, Diluc walking away.

“Diluc! Two more bottles please!” Venti called, having just drunk his entire tankard in one sitting. Xiao looked at him with curiosity. Archons were incredible…

“You should try it Xiao! Have you ever had alcohol before?”

“Adepti normally do not… drink unless it’s a truly special occasion, and even then we tend to drink glaze lily nectar.”

Venti nodded, giggling excitedly when Diluc brought over two more bottles of wine, setting them down on the table as he flashed Venti a look, who immediately popped open the new bottle and refilled his tankard.

Diluc walked away and Xiao finally took a sip of his wine, immediately repulsed by the taste. He didn’t want to upset Venti, however, so he took a bigger sip, quickly swallowing the odd tasting liquid.

Venti started drinking more of his, pulling his tankard away as he let out a satisfied “ahh!” as he turned his attention back to Xiao. He rested his head on his hands, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Do adepti have any weaknesses?”

“No. Weaknesses are for mortals, they’re trivial things.”

Xiao took another sip of his wine and felt his face go hot, his head was also starting to feel a bit dizzy. He looked over at Venti, confused by the sensations, and the small god only chuckled.

“Looks like your weakness is alcohol.”

“Nonsense,” Xiao said. Venti raised an eyebrow at him, and Xiao quickly took a big glug of wine to prove him wrong. He slowly felt his face grow hotter, and he continued to stare at Venti as his mind went fuzzy, Venti seeming completely unfazed despite how much alcohol he had already drinken.

“Didn’t expect the great Vigilant Yaksha to be a lightweight.”

“I’m not - I’m not a lightweight,” Xiao said, a quiet hiccup escaping his lips. Xiao giggled at the sound. Venti’s eyes widened along with a big smile.

“You can laugh?! I didn’t know adepti laughed!”

“I’m not laughing,” Xiao said, hiccuping again, making him giggle more.

“Yuh-huh, you’re totally laughing right now! In fact, you’re giggling!”

Xiao shook his head groggily, losing his balance as he did so and dropping his head on the table. Venti cackled, almost falling out of his seat. He supported himself with his arm as he watched Xiao who continued to hiccup and giggle, Venti doubling over in laughter again.

“You’re laugh is so cute! Hey, I wanna hear more of it!”

“M-My laugh isn’t - cute,” Xiao said quickly, taking another sip of his wine as he managed to get his head off the table. He bit his lip to keep himself from making any more noises, especially giggling

Venti noticed this and pouted, quickly getting up out of his seat, walking over to Xiao as he squished his cheeks, turning his head to face him. 

“Laugh for me more!” Venti whined, and Xiao shook his head, hiccuping again.

“I don’t… Yakshas don’t… laugh,” Xiao said quietly, his words slurring. Venti chuckled.

“You’re like a drunk puppy right now after only a few sips of wine…” Venti teased, and Xiao’s face got a tinge redder, despite having an already heavy blush from the alcohol.

Venti smirked, letting go of Xiao’s face as he walked behind Xiao, giggling.

“I think Yakshas can laugh, and if you won’t laugh for me I might have to make you~”

Xiao was barely even processing what Venti was saying, he let his head rest on his arms against the table as he groaned, his head hurting slightly. He felt so fuzzy, he wasn’t sure he was going to make it back to Liyue that night…

His head shot up suddenly when he felt Venti experimentally poke his sides. He managed to muster a glare that he quickly shot at the Archon, who chuckled deviously. Venti poked him again and Xiao flinched, making Venti smirk.

“The great Yaksha wouldn’t happen to have another weakness, hmm?”

Xiao hiccuped as he realized what Venti was planning, and he quickly went to stand up, only to totter a bit before falling back into his chair, making Venti laugh.

Venti poked Xiao a few more times, this time managing to get a squeak out of the Yaksha as he flinched a few times. Venti’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he raised his hands up above Xiao, wiggling his fingers as Xiao leaned away from him, his drunken self only managing to make him fall out of his chair onto the floor.

Venti laughed again and finally dove at Xiao, sitting next to him as he started squeezing Xiao’s sides, making him shriek as laughter started to pour from his mouth, making Venti beam.

“Your laugh is simply divine, so easy to hear from all that wine!” Venti rhymed again, chuckling as Xiao drunkenly flailed around, his arms uselessly pushing at Venti’s hands before eventually just falling against the floor.

“B-Barbatohohohohos! Stohohohohohop this!”

“I already told you to call me Venti!” He said, now attacking Xiao’s helpless tummy as he cried out, somehow using his arms again to swat at Venti’s hands as he laughed.

“GAha! Venti - Venti plehehehehehease, not thihihihis!”

Diluc groaned loudly in annoyance from the bar of the tavern, it was never quiet when Venti was there. 

“I love seeing you laugh! Hey, I wonder which spot makes you laugh the most, can you tell me?”

Xiao shook his head, shaking with laughter as Venti danced his fingers delicately all over his tummy, skittering along in an almost feather-like touch that was driving Xiao completely mad. 

“NOHOHOhohot there! Vehehehehehenti!”

“Not here? Hmm, okay! What about here then?”

Venti slyly moved his hands up to Xiao’s ribs, dancing along them and digging softly between each one. Venti’s movements were swift and ticklish, and Xiao was just along for the ride as the Archon continued his odd torture.

“Ehe, you’re easier to play than the lyre!” Venti said as he continued to tickle Xiao, dancing his fingers along his ribs as if he were an instrument.

Xiao’s laughter escalated, and soon he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t able to do anything to defend himself except uselessly swat his hands. Xiao silently swore to himself to never drink alcohol again.

Venti’s hands rose to Xiao’s upper ribs, scribbling his fingers around and even diving under his arms as Xiao’s arms clamped down slightly, barely protecting himself as he arched his back, digging his heels into the ground as he shook his head back and forth.

“Tickle tickle, Xiao!”

“STOHOHOHOHOHOhohohop!”

Venti stuck out his tongue playfully as he drilled his hands under Xiao’s arms, Xiao cackling as he did so. He had never laughed this hard in his life, he didn’t even know he was this ticklish. His tummy hurt a bit from laughing and tears started to trickle down his beet red face. In any normal situation he would’ve already freed himself of the tickling, but since he was drunk, his motor skills and coordination had seriously plummeted. 

“GohoHOHOHODS NOO! NOT thehehehehere!” Xiao yelled, roaring with laughter as Venti dug into the dip of Xiao’s hips, and Venti beamed.

“Looks like someone’s extra ticklish here!” Venti teased, vibrating his hands as he drilled them into Xiao’s hips, Xiao throwing his head back as he howled.

Venti went back to pinching along Xiao’s tummy, poking and prodding as he giggled.

“Boop, boop! Hey, what happens if I boop here?” Venti asked, poking Xiao’s navel as he squeaked, swatting at Venti’s hand as he curled onto his side, pushing at Venti as he giggled helplessly.

Venti grinned, taking advantage of Xiao curling on his side as he gave him a small push, setting Xiao up on his tummy as Venti straddled him, now wiggling his fingers against Xiao’s sides as Xiao whined through his laughter, pounding his fists into the ground as he laughed.

“V-Venti! Plehehehehehease!” Xiao yelled, twisting weakly from side to side as he tried to escape Venti.

“Please what? Please keep going? Sure!” Venti quipped, dancing his fingers along Xiao’s lower back, slowly travelling up to his shoulder blades, making Xiao holler with laughter as he scribbled on the small bit of exposed skin on Xiao’s back.

“Hehe, looks like I found a good spot! Tickle tickle!” 

Xiao banged his fists into the ground as he squirmed helplessly, desperately trying to escape the excruciatingly ticklish sensations. He didn’t even know he was ticklish on his back, but it tickled worse than any spot that Venti had tried previously. Between that and Venti’s teasing voice, it was too much for Xiao, especially in his drunken state.

“I cahahahahan’t! V-Venti plehehehehease stohohOHOHOP!”

Venti continued to skitter his fingers along Xiao’s sensitive shoulder blades, sliding his fingers skillfully between them and around them as Xiao laughed hysterically beneath him. This was so unlike him, laughing like this… 

After a few moments, Xiao’s laughter went silent. Venti took that as a sign to stop the tickling, though he didn’t stop until a little bit after. Xiao panted heavily beneath Venti, who quickly got off of him, giggling as he watched the slightly shorter man catch his breath.

Venti giggled as he poked Xiao again, making him squeak as he covered his side weakly, a few stray giggles still escaping his lips as he curled up.

“Your laugh was a melody, though I have to offer an apology,” Venti said, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly.

Xiao glanced up at Venti, still panting.

“Wh-why?”

Venti stood up, dusting himself off as he reached a hand down for Xiao, who quickly took it as he was helped up.

“I went a bit too far, I couldn’t help it though, you were too cute!”

Xiao flushed at the bard’s words, turning his head and shaking it.

“It’s fine just… don’t do it again… ever,” Xiao said, growling slightly as he spoke, making Venti chuckle.

“I can’t promise anything~!”

Xiao sighed and Venti laughed, patting Xiao’s back lightly. He flashed a quick grin as he lightly scribbled his fingers on Xiao’s exposed shoulder blades, making him yelp before retracting his hand quickly and putting his hands behind his head, acting innocent.

Xiao grumbled, and Venti chuckled, leaning close to him. Xiao backed away slightly from the Archon, who got on his tip-toes and leaned over Xiao, smiling.

“Let’s get back to the wine, shall we?”

Xiao felt his heart thumping in his chest when Venti finally backed away from him, skipping back over to his seat and quickly drinking more of his wine, then pouring more into his tankard. Xiao put a hand to his chest as he sat down, taking a sip of his own wine. He shook off the odd feeling, and instead engaged in more chatter with Venti, spending the rest of the night with the strange god.

#xiaoven #xiao #venti #genshin impact #tickle fic

[nyasha-of-germa-66]

Hey! Hope you are doing well/did well on your exams. I'm right there in that hell with you :(. Related, can I request Sanji/Zoro/Law dealing with an S/O who is working really intensely for a long period of time and neglecting their own well being? Could be that the S/O is training, creating something, studying for an exam, ect.

Hello! Sorry this took so long, I know I said I was going to try to finish this days ago but a few things came up unexpectedly. But I hope you did well on your exams if you had any or still have any upcoming ones!~ Thank you for the request! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Sanji

Sanji is quick to notice his S/O overworking themself, and he won't lie. He's worried that his S/O isn't taking proper care of themself.

The first thing he'll do is try to help in any way that he can. If he can take some of the load off of his S/O's back, then he'd do it in a heartbeat.

He'll try to coax his S/O to take a break and relax even if it's just for a few minutes. He doesn't want his S/O to get burnt out or else their hard work and effort will be for nothing.

Sanji will gently pull his S/O away from their task at hand and take them for a brief stroll. He'll start a conversation and make sure it keeps their mind off of the stress while still giving them room to breathe.

He understands that his S/O has a goal they want to meet and he wants to support them as much as he possibly can, so he'll let them work if they wish.

He makes frequent visits to check on his S/O, bringing them meals and beverages in hopes that a nicely-cooked meal and his S/O's favorite drink will reenergize them and help them complete their work.

Whenever he checks up on his S/O he compliments them and their effort, telling them that they're doing a fantastic job and saying how impressed he is by their determination. He hopes that his praise will prevent his S/O from being so hard on themself, and he truly means every word.

As soon as he sees that his S/O is about to reach their limit late into the night, he steps in and requests that they step back from their work and continue in the morning.

Sanji will bring his S/O a light snack and something warm to drink. Meanwhile, he starts a bath for them so that they have time to unwind and clean up before changing into the pajamas he laid out for them.

Once his S/O is changed into something more comfortable, he invites them to bed where he allows them to lie between his legs with their back against him.

As sleep creeps up on his S/O, Sanji gently smooths his hand over their hair and kisses their forehead, humming quietly until the stress melts away from his S/O's face and is replaced with a tranquil expression.

Zoro

Being someone who takes training to a whole other level, Zoro carries a deep understanding for why his S/O is tenaciously focused on their task.

At first, he thinks little of it, believing that his S/O has a goal in mind and they're determined to carry it out to completion. He shares the same mindset, so naturally, he knows that you'll reach your goal in due time.

It's not until his S/O's stubbornness has them working long, strenuous hours with little to no breaks in between that he becomes concerned.

He can't remember when he last saw his S/O eat, drink, or even sleep, and it worries him.

The first time he decides to check on his S/O, he does a little bit of interrogating to find out what's so important that they're neglecting their own health in order to get it done. Regardless of the reason, he scolds them in a way that is both caring and stern.

Telling by the panic and frustration his S/O feels about reaching their goal by the end of the night, he feels some regret for his sudden scolding but he knows it's for the best.

Wishing to help out, he lends a hand wherever he can even if that means asking Sanji to make lunch for his S/O, he'll do whatever it takes to relieve their stress.

Periodically, he'll ask his S/O to take a breather and get some fresh air. He'll also suggest some of the things he does to cool down from his workouts, whether it's a quick power nap or a form of stretching.

While he sits beside his S/O, he finds himself offering words of encouragement and advice on how to make things easier for his S/O.

As night creeps up on them, Zoro will eventually recommend that his S/O call it off for the remainder of the night. He knows that they're bound to be overworked if they continue at this pace, so he tells them that they've done a good job that day and that they should rest up in order to continue the next day.

To celebrate his S/O's hard work and accomplishments, Zoro pours his S/O and himself some booze for the two to enjoy while the rest of the night is spent relaxing and easing into the comfort of the late night atmosphere.

Law

Law always knows when something is amiss with his S/O. He knows when they're sick, when they're injured, or even when they're hungry so it comes as no surprise when he notices that his S/O is cooped up by their lonesome for a prolonged period of time.

He's naturally curious with a lingering sense of concern, so without a second thought he goes to check on them.

Seeing that they're captivated with a personal task of their own, Law interrupts to see if his S/O needs anything for the time being. Just telling by their feeble response and their exhausted appearance, Law is fully aware of his S/O overworking themselves.

He finds out what they're doing and questions their rationale about getting it done so soon. He knows you've got time to complete it, so why not take it easy every hour or so.

Like Zoro and Sanji, Law asks if his S/O needs any help and pitches in whenever he can. He doesn't know how useful he can be, but he'll do what he can to keep his S/O from straining themself.

He's worried that this prolonged stress will make his S/O sick, so he does his best to keep an eye on them and finds ways to relieve their stress.

He'll ask when his S/O last ate, and he's shocked to hear that it was the late afternoon and they hadn't eaten or drinken anything all day. So, he immediately fetches them a meal, making sure they eat and drink everything.

When he convinces his S/O to take a much needed break, he takes them into a hallway within the submarine and simply chats with them. There's a lot of silence between conversations, but he figures they need some peace and quiet.

If his S/O happens to get a migraine from the stress, Law will give them a dosage of pain reliever and some water, telling them to step away from their task and continue when their migraine goes away.

Once nightfall finally hits, he carefully nudges his S/O away from whatever it is they're working on and walks them to their room where dinner is waiting for them.

The two of them eat in a comfortable silence, and once they finish, Law walks around the table and stands behind his S/O to gently massage their neck and shoulders, smiling all the while as he feels his S/O finally relax under his touch.

#one piece headcanons #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #traflagar law #nyasha of germa 66 #thank you anon!

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! || kol mikaelson - chapter one

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, things don’t turn out the way he expects them to.

Word Count: 2,122

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

-

❝ my life's just a faded memory of what i can't have ❞

A marriage to a Mikaelson was unheard of. In the thousand years the Originals had been alive, they'd been focused on one thing and only thing only: survival. They moved, every few years or so, to a new city, doing their best to escape the wrath of their father, Mikael. When word reached Mikael of where they'd settled, it was Klaus that prepared the arrangements for their departure. They would flee without sparing another thought.

    Perhaps that was why Aniya was sat in the foyer, twisting at her rusted, bronze ring. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, and light jazz music bled from the streets. Truthfully, she wasn't supposed to be awake. Rebekah had brushed out her plaits and sent her off to bed not four hours ago. In another world, she might have listened.

    But Niklaus had given her the bedroom next to Kol's. She supposed it was some kind of punishment, though she wasn't sure who it was aimed at. Even when she'd stepped into the compound, dirtied and drowned in her own blood, the Mikaelsons had looked at her as though she were a stranger. To Freya and Nik, she'd even been seen as a threat. Some sort of vessel for the Hollow, whoever that was.

    It was Niklaus that demanded a 'head-dive,' though she wasn't sure what that meant. It wasn't until the bastard appeared in front of her and grabbed her head in his hands that she'd realized what he'd meant.

    It felt as though all of her memories were being pulled out of her head.

    There was no way to know how much he saw, nor was there any reassurance that he believed her in the first place. He was silent when his hands fell to his sides, his face void of any emotion. It was only after Rebekah had snapped him back into reality that he dragged her up the stairs and showed her the room she would be staying in.

    The room itself was beautiful, with two windows and a balcony that hung over Bourbon Street. When Aniya slept, she could hear the inebriated laughter of the people below - a far cry from the chanting she would hear a thousand years ago. In any other world, she might've slept with the same tranquility as an infant.

    Sadly, the soft jazz and laughter was quickly drowned out by the wails from the other room. They would come at two or three in the morning, like clockwork. Often accompanied by shattering glass and the name 'Davina,' falling from her husband's lips. In another world, she might have blamed him; but how could you expect loyalty from a spouse that couldn't even remember your name?

    It was two o'clock now. The foyer was across the compound, as far from Kol's bedroom as she could get. It was moments like this that she was thankful the ritual hadn't altered her hearing. Because for now, she could pretend. She could tell herself the only reason she was awake, was because she had drinken too much tea earlier that day and couldn't bring herself to sleep.

    She could tell herself her husband would wake in the morning and become worried when he realized she wasn't there. She could tell herself their marriage had lasted longer than two weeks before she passed, and the wedding rings they'd exchanged weren't made from their father's dulled swords.

    And in the early morning hours, she could tell herself she was happy with how things had turned out. That she was happy to be alive.

    "What are you doing here?"

    Aniya was met with the cold glare of her dear husband. The jazz music seemed to fade away, the sense of peace she'd felt disappearing in an instant. "I couldn't sleep."

    He seemed to scoff at that. A bitter silence filled the room as he crossed to pour a round of bourbon into a clear glass. He drank it immediately, lightly wincing at the taste before pouring another. Truthfully, Aniya hadn't expected him to come here. Usually he was locked away, and Elijah would make an effort to leave food at his door. Of course, he rarely moved more than a crumb.

    "You should eat." The statement went ignored as he drank another glass. "Rebekah says Originals can still die."

    "Death is temporary, darling." His voice was hoarse, the remark had physically pained him to say. Even the world 'darling' tasted like poison. "Trust me."

    The younger witch leaned back in her seat, pulling the warm blanket over her shoulders. Rebekah had only owned silk nightgowns, which were particularly useless when it came to warmth. She would have been given other clothes if she was meant to leave the house, but Elijah had made it a rule that she couldn't leave until she fit into modern-day society. That, of course, would start with her hair.

    Long hair had been popular in the New World. Every morning, mothers, daughters and sisters would twist each other's hair into beautiful plaits, decorated with flowers and herbs. Aniya had been making an effort to grow her hair out since she was a child. Now, her raven-black hair had grown past her waist, falling just above her hips in waves. Rebekah braided it into plaits each morning when she noticed how uncomfortable it made her.

    She still remembered the smile on Kol's face when he ran his fingers through her hair. He'd tried, once, to twist her hair into a simple braid. She could hear him cursing beneath his breath, and eventually cheating when he muttered a spell that embelished her hair with forget-me-nots and baby's breath.

    If she closed her eyes, she could still see the adoration in his eyes when he called her beautiful. She held onto that when she'd died. Truthfully, it was the only thing she'd had to hold onto, spending a thousand years in darkness. The thought would leave a smile on her face no matter how many times she thought of it; but now, the memory made her throat tighten. Perhaps she were better off in that darkness.

    "Why do you hate me?"

    The Original's glass clattered on the countertop. His eyes were trained on the decades-old bourbon.

    'Hate her?' He glanced at the strange girl. She was curled into a ball, bandages trailing up and down her arms and legs. His sisters had given her a choker to wrap around her neck, concealing the slash on her throat and the wound at the base of her skull. She'd refused to let Rebekah heal it, muttering something about a boy named Vihaan. Part of him wanted to believe her story -- to understand what had happened to her, and to comfort her; but no matter how hard he tried to dig into his memories, he was met with an impenetrable mist, and he couldn't bring himself to fight against it.

    Instead, he stayed behind it. Ran back to the memories he knew to be true, and placed a wall between the two of them. Whatever she was hiding, he didn't want to remember.

    "I don't hate you."

    "You're lying." Aniya looked up at him, her brown eyes seeming to challenge him. "We haven't even spoken since the night you found me."

    "Darling, I haven't spoken to much of anyone since the night I found you. Need I remind you Niklaus isn't exactly jumping for joy at the fact that I risked everyone's life in favor of..." He trailed off, then drowned his sorrows in whiskey once more.

    "Davina Claire." Even when it was Aniya herself, the name still managed to cut through to her very soul. "I've noticed. Who is she, Kol?"

    He winced, her words seeming to burn into his skin. "Someone. No one."

    "You're lying again, and not very well," She sat up. "Was she human?"

    "A witch," He kept his eyes trained on the windows, almost afraid of looking her in the eyes. "The Hollow was meant to bring her back."

    'After I killed her,' Kol wanted to add. Was that what he'd done with Aniya? Killed her? Had he gone to kiss her and murdered her in his efforts to be a good partner to her? Locked away his memories, and gotten a witch to lock away the others?

    "Why not bring her back yourself?" She said bitterly. "From what I remember, you were quite powerful."

    Kol's chest grew heavier the longer he spoke. "Nature requires balance. Witches are a gift to nature, while vampires are an abomination. Any ability I had to practice magic disappeared the moment I died."

    It came out harsher than he expected. He was a powerful witch. His mother's bloodline produced the strongest witches known in history - she'd created the spell that turned his siblings into vampires. Before he'd died, he'd even considered writing his own grimoire; write down all of the spells he created so he would be remembered by the generations to come. Perhaps if he'd kept it, he wojld have been able to save Davina. Taken her from the ancestral plane before she was punished any further. God only knew what consequences she was facing now.

    "Do you miss it?" She spoke softly, staring down at her hands. She ran a finger over the scar on her left palm, murmuring, "You never went a day without magic. No matter how useless the spell was, you were always practicing. You were like a child with your favorite toy."

    Finally, he set the glass down on the counter, taking a step closer to Aniya. "Did you?"

    She chuckled, "I did. But the magic I had before is different from the magic I have now. Whatever spells you put in front of me, I likely wouldn't be able to complete them."

    "Why not?"

    Aniya cleared her throat, her hand trailing up to the band around her neck. Kol's face was riddled with confusion as she shook her head, eyes beginning to scan the foyer before landing on a glass above the fire place. A wilted bouquet of red roses - likely a gift for Rebekah. Perhaps she could find a way to break his amnesia. To remember her, even for just a moment.

    She quickly set it on down the table, eyes fluttering shut as she began to mutter the spell beneath her breath. It should've been easy. It was a spell she could have recited in her sleep. The spell had been taught to children when they were barely old enough to read - if there was any spell she could do, it had to be this.

    "Sit cadunt folia," She whispered, hands floating above the petals.

    The Mikaelson boy sat in silence, watching the witch with intrigue. It'd always been his favorite past-time to watch witches perform magic. Though, this time, it'd been different. The longer she chanted, the more distorted she would sound. It was as though he was hearing her from underwater. Even his vision had begun to go, his sharp vision suddenly becoming hazy.

    Perhaps he'd had too much to drink.

    Fortunately, she'd stopped, unable to even begin the spell. When she was a child, she could feel the adrenaline rush through her bones. The feeling would have leave goosebumps along her arms, leaving her hyperaware of her surroundings. She could hear the wind rustle through the trees, could feel the ground beneath her shake at the slightest movement.

    Now, she felt nothing but embarrassment. She'd wanted the spell to work. Not just for Kol, but for herself. If she could continue practicing earth magic, she could turn away from the magic she'd been reborn with. The magic she had been sacrificed for.

    "It's all right. You're weak right now. The last thing you 'ought be doing practicing is magic." He'd said it offhandedly, his focus still on returning his vision to normal.

    "I wasn't sure you cared," she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest.

    Kol glanced up at her, his vision beginning to focus. As she ran her finger over her hands, he couldn't help but sigh. It felt as though there was a part of him yearning to be closer to her. To comfort her, and tell her that he did care for the little witch despite every bone in his body that told him to stay away from her.

    "You should rest." He stood up, going to leave the room. "I'll have Rebekah make you some tea. It'll help with the insomnia."

    The Mikaelson boy disappeared down the hall before Aniya could say another word. Before he could catch a glimpse of the faint smile ghosting across the young girl's lips.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x oc #nathaniel buzolic #nate buzz #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries imagine #reader x kol mikaelson #kol imagine #kol smut #kol fluff #kol mikaelson fluff #angst #the vampire diaries angst #the originals angst #kol mikaelson angst #oc #esther mikaelson #fluff

[nox-scrie]

Liking Her Is Much Nicer Than Hating Her, Anyway

Okay so I know it’s the 27th now and I kind of forgot that Carry On Countdown even existed (I’m sorry) but I want to try to write everyday this year!! And This Is A Thing That I’m Really Proud Of, which I wrote in like two hours and it has some nice things happening.

Carry On Countdown: Day 2, Role Swap

Description: Penny, The Chosen One, shares a dorm room with Agatha, the perfect girl who (Penny is certain of it!) is secretly a vampire. In the last year of Watford, Penny will try uncovering her roommate’s secrets, but she may not like what she finds out.

Setting: Last year of school, The Humdrum does not exist, they’re all 18 so it’s legal to drink thanks UK, Baz has never been turned into a vampire and he is in a relationship with Simon, aaand Penny can contain her power.

Ships: Penny×Agatha (I’m not sure what’s their ship name) and Snowbaz ofc

Words: 3.8 k

Status: SFW (with some mentions of making out and the sudden appearance of A Bra!!!) and UNCORRECTED A LOT OF GRAMMAR MISTAKES I THINK GL READING IT

The feeling of dread started in her heart before she even opened her eyes. Once again she cursed her life, she cursed her mother for not stepping up and doing something about her idiotic roommate, she cursed her life and her existence and how unlucky she was. For now, a morning like any other.

As she opened her eyes, she was staring straight ahead at Agatha’s gorgeous, blonde hair and scoffed. She was snoring lightly, but even that seemed perfect when she did it. Agatha Wellbelove, as beautiful as she was cold, her worst enemy and the person that fueled her with rage everyday.

As if sensing her thoughts, Agatha turned around and faced her, lips chapped and slightly parted, her hair a yellow flag spread on the pillow. She was annoyingly beautiful and she knew it.

“Well good morning to you too, Bunce. Enjoying the view?” she asked, her voice husky, but somehow still mocking.

Penelope Bunce snatched the pillow from below her head and threw it at her, hitting Agatha right in the face. The little “oof” sound she made was totally worth the pain she felt, ten times worse, because the stupid anathema about not hitting your roommate extended to pillow fights too.

“I’m enjoying it better now.” she said to Agatha’s red, furious face.

Before she could retort, Penny got out of bed and right in their shared bathroom, hopping in the shower.

You would think that by being the Chosen One, The Saviour of the Mage World, Penny had a saying in who got to be her roommate. It wasn’t that Agatha wad necessarily a bad roommate, it was quite the opposite: her part of the room was annoyingly clean, all her papers in separate binders and potions stacked by color in magicked shelves. Penny was a disaster compared to her: her notebooks were stacked on the floor rather than on her desk, which was occupied by half-drinken green teas and more empty cups of coffee than she would like to admit, and her blankets were basically just piles of clothes forgotten to be arranged in her dresser. That’s how Penny grew up, in a house too small to fit so many people, in a head too small to fit so many ideas, in a body too fragile to handle all her magic.

But no, Agatha’s neatness was not what made Penny hate her: it was the fact that she was a vampire that did the trick. Penny was certain of it; what kind of roommate would just go out and about each and every night, come back with a flash against her normally paper-white skin, and sneak soundlessly in bed? She was hiding something, and Penny was hellbent to find the secret out.

When she got out of the shower Agatha was in a skirt and her bra; it was a really nice one too, pastel pink that made her pale skin seem almost transparent. Her skirt was high-waisted, a deep green which contrasted amazingly with her hair…

Agatha raised an eyebrow and only then did Penny realize that she was staring. She tightened her towel around herself, grabbed her uniform where it was hanged on her dresser and she rushed back into the bathroom, her heart racing.

A great start of a day that could only get worse.

***

“This day is amazing!”

Simon Snow, her best friend, dumb as night but in an endearing way, sat across from her, shoving piece after piece of scones in his mouth. Baz Pitch sat next to him, a slightly concerned yet stupidly in love expression on his face.

“Baz woke up with his hair all messed up, it was so funny I almost had a breakdown laughing.”

The dark-haired man scoffed; that was an expression Penny was more aquianted to. Simon has been Penny’s friend since day one: he was the kind and she was the cunning and together they made the greatest team in school. He used to live with a pixie in his dormroom, but since he got in a relationship with Baz they moved in in the same room: it was that easy. Penny slightly despised them for it.

“It was not that messed up. And if it was, there’s only you to blame. Yesterday night was-”

“None of my business!” Penny shouted from across the table, her hands covering her ears and looking at the increasingly red face of Simon and the mockingly satisfied one of Baz.

Baz was hard to let in, all shadows and dark mysteries. As she had grown more accustomed to how his expression softened around Simon, though, she found it impossible to see how she thought he was bad for them at first. They started having a pace in the year they have Snowbaz was a real thing: Penny was the power, Baz was the mind, Simon was the action. They were perfect for each other, like the pieces of a puzzle thrown apart a long time ago and reunited now.

That was the moment Agatha Fucking Wellbelove entered the cafeteria. Penny rolling her eyes was almost instinct now, and Simon didn’t even bother to turn away from his scones to watch her entrance, surrounded by her not-as-beautiful-but-still-annyoingly-pretty friends. Baz had turned, though, and then looked over to Penny, a curious expression on his face.

“Did she do anything this morning?”

The image of Agatha’s bra flew across Penny’s mind, but she shook her head in denial. Now was not the time to have such thoughts, and what even were these thoughts? Penny needed a tea. Scrap that, she needed her ring, a galoon of coffee and a direct target to her forehead.

“Just existed.”

“Oh, that’s just the wooorst.” Baz mocked, and his straight teeth flashed in a smile that made his skin look darker than usual.

“Should we discuss how you throwed Simon down a flight of stairs because you couldn’t handle your feelings for him, Pitch? Because I am so ready.”

“Oh, so your feelings for Wellbelove as the same as mine for Simon?” he teased back, and Penny retracted.

“You told me that was an accident!” Simon registered the conversation they were having a few moments too late, and he turned his head to Baz, his voice a few tones higher.

“Sure it was. I would never do anything to harm you, my love, no matter how great my gay denial was, or how your lovely bronze curls made me want to commit murder.” Baz said sweetly, flickering Penny a look.

She barely contained her laughter, until she sensed a presence behind her. Already touching her ring, she turned, and saw Agatha standing behind her. There was no tray in her skinny hands, and with the sun shining from behind her, she was no different than an angel.

“Bunce.” she said, her tone imperious, but Penny could only think of her voice this morning, all raspy and almost sad.

“Wellbelove. What can I do for you, and should I get ring ready?”

“As eager as she is beautiful.” she said, a mock in her tone that made Penny scrunch up her forehead. “I was wondering if I will see you at the Fest this evening.”

“What for, so you can feed me to himera?” Penny said, doubt in her voice.

“I don’t pull the same stunt twice.” Agatha shrugged. “Maybe I will ask you for a dance. You’ll see if you come.”

And then she just left. Penny stared dumbfoundedly in the space she occupied just a moment ago, and as she turned to the boys on the other side of the table they were looking at her with wide eyes.

“When did that happen?” Baz asked, and Simon had his mouth hanging open, a piece of scone glued to the the side of his mouth. Penny wanted to reach over to bat it away, but Simon started speaking before she had the chance.

“Yeah, Penny, what? Why didn’t you tell me that you and Agatha were a thing?”

The shriek that came from Penny’s throat was not human. “Excuse you?” she half-shouted.

Simon rolled his eyes, and the crumb fell in his lap. Baz absently picked it up and ate it.

“I may be dumb.” he frowned. “ I am dumb. But even I could pick up the hearts and rainbows in her eyes.”

“True. She always gave me lesbian-vibes but I’ve always thought that it was because of her color pallete. Oh, Crowley, Penny! She can teach you how to dress properly! This is the best day of my life.”

“No. What? NO. Guys. Agatha and I are NOT a couple. She despises me! She tried feeding me to a hungry chimera! She is always mocking me! AND she is a vampire!”

Baz only listened to half of what she said before he started piling up mashed potatoes on top of each other to resemble a very bad flight of stairs, and he placed two mini-tomatoes on top. He stared right into her eyes as one tomato pushed the other down. Penny swallowed and sent him a whitering look.

“I think vampires are pretty hot.” Simon said after a moment, unaware of what his boyfriend just confessed next to him. Baz sent him a glare. “Not hoter than you, of course, darling. But just saying, if you were to wear some fake fangs for the Fest this evening that… would be pretty wicked.”

Simon and Baz started staring at each other as if they shared a world in which nobody but them was allowed. Penny could respect that; she and Simon had a similar relationship sometimes, and her and Baz were starting to get there too, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t make a gag noise.

“You guys are the worst; I’m trying to eat here.” Penny said, but she was smiling.

For a moment she wondered if she could ever find a love like that too, and she turned her glance back, where Agatha stayed a few tables off. She was looking at her when Penny turned her head, but she didn’t break eye contact, only slightly turned her head to the side.

Penny started focusing on her food once again, but she knew she was not able to eat anymore, nervousness creeping into her stomach. If there was a chance for her to find that love, Wellbelove was sure to crush it in high-heeled shoes before she even aknowledged it.

***

Being the chosen one was hard as it was: Penny had a great power in her, so great that she almost didn’t manage to content, and she fought side by side with Simon, and now with Baz, everytime a new threat appeared. But being the daughter of the headmaster of the school of magic she was attending; it was harder.

She got much less privilages than one would expect, her mother standing tall and cold each time Penny came by her office to complain about the fact that Agatha was a vampire (“I will believe you when you bring me proof”) and that she wanted to kill her (“Nobody knew about the chimera, Penny. And you had that solved in the end, right? That’s what is important.”).

So, being the headmaster’s daughter, Penny was approximately obliged to attend each school event. It wasn’t something that usually bothered her: she could hang with her friends, eat as many marshmallows her heart desired and drink dandelion wine near her teachers without shame.

Tonight was different though: as she stared in the mirror and examined her costume, a traditional sari from her mother, she was feeling like something will happen. It was probably Agatha, who got a bag from her dorm this afternoon, promptly ignoring her, and never came back, and her stupid question.

Sighing, Penny checked if her hair was in place and stepped out of the bathroom, right when there was a knock in the door. Baz was on the other side, wearing black pants and a white shirt, showing his caramel-like chest, and a pair of fangs popping out of his mouth.

“It was that easy?” she asked, laughing.

“Shut up, Bunce.” he said, but it sounded more like “thatp banth”.

He extended an arm, and Penny realized that he was wearing a red-and-black cape too. It was ridiculous; there was no such a thing as an Egyptian vampire, but Penny was living for it.

They made their way in the courtyard, chatting about classes and teachers, mocking them and making slightly off impressions to make the other laugh (especially Penny, because she could barely understand him). Their friendship was easy like that, and Penny would lie if she said that she wasn’t grateful for it.

As they got to the party, Simon appeared out of nowhere, a pair of red, cartoonish wings and a demon tail, forked at the tip, as his Fest costume. There was no protocole for the Festivals, but dressing up was recommended: especially now, near the Halloween-season in the Normal’s world, many students decided to dress up, and it was pretty funny to see all of them putting effort in looking good for this one night.

When Simon saw Baz, his eyes widened comically and he pulled him down with a hand on his shirt for a kiss. Penny realized that it was a surprise for Simon, and smiled fondly, leavinf the two of them alone.

She made her way to the drinks table and poured herself a glass of wine, choosing a piece of pumpkin pie from a nearby desert table. The fire in the middle of the field was so high it was almost touching the sky, and Penny watched the flames dance with longing, to be so full of joy and passion, to live like that.

Agatha made her way towards her from the bonfire in an angel costume that was barely even there on her: she had a white glowing-stick halo, and a short, skin-tight dress. She was swaying slightly as she reached Penny, and started giggling.

Crowley, this will end in flames, won’t it?

“Are you drunk, Wellbelove?” Penny asked, and Agatha just snickered.

“As a kite! Wait, no, that’s high. I may be that too for all I know! The wine is amazing.”

Penelope looked down at her untouched glass and placed it back down on the table. Agatha’s brown eyes followed her, and a smile crept across her lips.

“Fair enough.” she said, but she wasn’t leaving, staring right at Penny instead.

“What do you want, Agatha?” Penny shook her head, breaking eye contact in the end.

“I want to talk to you, in fact. Come with me?” she extended a hand, but Penny batted it away.

“I’ll pass. Last time we went to talk, the chimera had more to say than you.”

“Please, Penny. Crowley, you’re so awful sometimes.” she shook her head, and looked across the field. “Oi! Baz! Come over here.”

Baz and Simon, who were making out against a tree, looked at each other, but made their way over them after a second. Agatha waited until they were a few feet away, and took out her wand from her knee-high boot, handing it over to Baz.

“Hold on to this while I chat with Penny for a couple o'minutes. Will you?”

Baz looked at Agatha for an intense second, then turned his eyes to Penny, a silent question in his look. Simon was not that subtle.

“I hope you know that if you hurt my best friend, I will end you. I will make you hate life so much you will regret that your great-great-great-grandfather was born and gave birth to all the other people before you.”

“That’s why I gave Baz my wand, Simon Sword-for-brain. Now, Penny, will you?”

Penny looked over to Baz’s hand, which held Agatha’s wand, and nodded, following the blonde in the forest. They didn’t go deep, just far enough for the chatter to be muffled but the flames to still lighten up the night. From her other boot, Agatha extracted a pack of cigarettes, and mumbled something that made it light up.

“You just casted a spell without a wand.” Penny was almost shaking with curiosity. “How… wow. That was so cool.”

Agatha shrugged with a shoulder and took a drag, extending it to Penny afterwards. Penny shook her head no, but she wasn’t sure what was she saying no to: the cigarette, the fact that she was smoking, that it wasn’t allowed to smoke on schoolgrounds or that she was able to cast a fire-spell without a wand, putting her in direct danger.

Before she expressed any opinion, though, Agatha started talking, the cigarette seemingly sobering her up, and Penny listened for once. Maybe it was because of the night, or Agatha’s dress, or the fire or how lonely she was, but in that moment Penny wanted to know what she had to say.

“My father hates me, you know.” she said, and then she laughed after a moment. “No, of course you don’t, sorry. Stupid question. He hates me, because he thinks… that my mother died because of me.”

Silence was a cloak over them; Penny watched the cigarette almost burnt to the filter, and just as it was dying Agatha took a last, long drag.

“There was a fire at Watford sometime ago.”

“Yeah.” Penny said, before she could stop. “More than ten years ago. A lot of victims. A vampire attack.”

“That’s right.” Agatha nodded, seemingly satisfied. “The infirmery was the place where the attack was held; I remember it in flashes: the white walls, with pink roses, the toys with missing parts and the cribs, wooden and so easy to burn.”

After a pause, Penny registred the true meaning of her words, and she took a step back. Agatha looked like she wanted to smile, but a sad expression was now hunting her face.

“Wait. You were there?” she asked, her voice little, Agatha farther away than she has ever been.

“I was. So was my mum. So were a dozen other children. They killed her right in front of me… and only because I was dumb enough to think that a rotten piece of a crib can do them any harm. She stepped in front of me, and he bit her. She was alive, Penny. She was alive when she looked at me, and sat herself on fire.”

She shook another stick in her palm, but her fingers were trembling too much to hold it properly. Penny didn’t think before taking a step forward and placing it between Agatha’s lips, concentrating her magic in her pointing ring, at the cigarette.

“Light'em up.” casted Penny.

Agatha looked at her, and her eyes were flames too as the tip of the cigarette caught fire. She took a drag, looked down, and back at Penny, inhaling sharply. Penny took a step back.

“She wa bond to become a vampire, but she chose suicide over that fate. She chose suicide over being a m-monster.” Penny thought Agatha might start crying, but her eyes remained dry. “Some of us were not so brave. I was not so brave.”

Penny looked at her, at her pale skin, at her skinny figers from around the cigarette and her haunted expression, and took the stick from between her lips. She took a drag, caught it inside her lungs and breathed out, feeling dizzy and out of this world. Penny smoked before, when she was 14 and she snatched a pack from her older brother, she coughed again and again, but didn’t stop doing it until she could make a circle out of smoke.

“You could have asked me for one for yourself.” Agatha mumbled, but she watched Penny silent after the purple-haired girl raised a finger to her face.

“Don’t. Let me think, Agatha.”

Agatha rasided an eyebrow, but watched silently as Penny finished the cigarette, because fuck the rules, Wellbelove just told her she is a vampire!

“Why?” asked Penny, despair in her voice. “Why now, why me, why?”

Shifting her focus to the party, Agatha took a little until she found the good response. Penny was so close to pointing the ring at her and casting a spell, anything, to make her talk, that she had to catch her ringed-hand with the other.

“I will leave school.” she said it so simply, just like she would say that the sun was hot or that Penny was a mess.

“What?” Penny realized how dumb she must sound, so she tried another word. “Why?” that was not better, but Agatha didn’t seem to mind the continuous scurt-circuit her mind was having, because she lit another cigarette wordlessly.

“I’m not powerful enough to be here; or at least that’s what my teachers say. I will leave and go to America, maybe Cali, the beaches are just the sweetest-”

“No. Agatha… you’re my roommate. You can’t leave, not with less than a year left of school.

"Pft. Like you would mind. You would have killed me yourself if it wasn’t for the Anathema, Bunce, and we both know it.”

“That’s- not. That’s not how it is… you are so powerful, you can even cast without a wand…”

“And you are the Chosen One. The thing is, nobody knows how powerful I might be, because I don’t show them? Why should I? They will kill me anyway if they ever found out that I was a vampire.”

Hearing her say it made Penny realize that it was all real, the way she rolled her stupidly pretty mouth around the word, how it sounded bitter and full of hate… and then Penny realized.

“You are flamable! Agatha, you can’t smoke! Holy Snakes, what if you die?”

Agatha pointedly took another long drag. “Doesn’t seem like it to me. If it was this easy as if lighting up a stick, then I would have done it much, much earlier. This way you wouldn’t have had to deal with me, right? The roommate whom you despise with all your heart and-”

The cigaretteflew out of her hand with a gesture from the chosen one, and Penny kissed her. It was awkward, because Agatha was much taller than Penny, and she had these stupid heels on and-

Agatha dragged her close, her slender hands embracing her waist. Penny sighed against her lips, and her mind was a white noise because she only ever wanted for her roommate to shut up, and she couldn’t, and she kept saying these stupid, stupid things so Penny had to do it.

They kissed for a long time, but Penny needed to breath, and took a step back. Agatha was staring at her wide-eyed and wad looking like a doe caught in the headlights, and for a reason she didn’t know, Penny started laughing.

It was all so dumb! In one day, her whole life was changed, and it was all because of a pink bra and a campfire. Agatha looked more collected now, but Penny found out that she liked the power she had over Agatha when they kissed, so they did it again.

Tomorrow they will have to talk about this. They will have to look at each other in the eyes, and Penny will have to convince herself that Agatha was not the enemy anymore, that she was just a normal vampire, no, a normal girl, who needed her help.

Under the starry night and accompanied by the tipsy laughter of the Watford students, Penny vowed to help her with every weapon she had. Like was a much nicer feeling than hate, anyway.

#coc 2019 #carry on countdown #carry on countdown 2019 #carryon #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #basilton pitch #agatha wellbelove #agatha #penny bunce #penelope bunce #uhhh #rainbow rowell #lgbt #mlm #wlw #fanfiction #book #ya #what even are tags #day 2 #role swap #role swap au #snowbaz #agatha x penny #penny × agatha #my post #my art #english

[getinthefuckingcar]

Okay, Mick?

This was originally written as a school project, but I'm gonna post it here instead. It's really sad, and it only mentions Ian.

Trigger Warning: Child Abuse

Mickey's hands shook as he heard the front door slam. It wouldn't be his mother, she was too quiet to ever slam a door. Mandy was tucked away in her room across the hall, and Iggy was out with some of his friends. He didn't really know where Colin, Jamie, or Tony were, but it was probably juvie. Even if there had been a chance of it being one of his siblings, the idea was far from his head, because there was a shout of Mandy's name and he could hear footsteps as she timidly made her way into the living room.

He heard screams from his father, but he couldn't make out everything he said, a few muffled curses and shouting about who drank the beer in the fridge, was all he could understand. He doesn't know why Terry would be asking Mandy, of everyone in the house, the seven year old girl was the least likely to have drinken it. Mickey is pretty sure Iggy took it to his friend's house when he left, thinking their dad probably wouldn't come home that night, because nobody had seen him all day.

He slips off his bed, socked feet padding on the wooden floor. When he walked into the living room, his dad was walking around, angrily tossing his arms as he yelled. Mandy was cowering against a wall, so he walked over to her.

"Hey, Mands," he said, quietly. His father hadn't noticed the nine year old that entered the living room, and he wanted to keep it that way until Mandy was safely in her room, the door closed. "Go back to your room, okay? I'll handle him."

She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug before running to her room. He waited until he heard the lock on her door click and then he turned to his dad.

"Dad!"

His father turned, stumbling over his feet as he headed towards Mickey.

"Where'd the little brat go?" his voice was loud, it always was. It reminded Mickey of thunder, which is why he hated storms.

"She's in her room, she didn't drink your beer." Mickey always tried to stay calm while talking to his dad, he'd never raise his voice or swear, his dad would only yell more.

His dad's screaming continued, curses and slurs, spilling from his mouth as though they meant nothing to him, and, Mickey thought, they probably didn't. He advanced on Mickey, one hand coming up around the young boy's neck, the other pulled back, ready to land a punch. The first blow hit his face, and then another, and they stung. The next few came to his stomach and chest before he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

His head banged off the heater standing against the wall and he blacks out.

~

He wakes up a few hours later, Iggy's hand gently shaking his shoulder. His older brother leads him past his dad, who's passed out on the couch and through his bedroom and into the bathroom connected to it. He sits down on the closed toilet lid and watches as Iggy pours something onto a wet rag. Iggy presses it to a cut on his forehead, and Mickey winces from the sting. His brother cleans his face, and puts a bandage over the cut on his cheek.

"Okay, Mick?" he asks, he's always there to help after Terry. Sometimes he's home during it, and whenever he is, he steps in, makes sure no punches hit Mickey or Mandy. It's always like that, the oldest home when the fight breaks out has to protect the younger ones. When he can't help, his mom does, but she doesn't usually because she's comforting Mandy. "Ribs okay?" Last time, two of his ribs had been fractured, it had been much worse.

He takes in a deep breath, there isn't any pain, so he shakes his head. His ribs are fine, but that doesn't mean there isn't any nasty bruises. His brother nods, and follows Mickey from the bathroom to the bedroom.

"G'night, Mick." Iggy says, closing the door as he heads to his own bedroom. It isn't late, probably only 7 o'clock, but Mickey isn't leaving his room for the rest of the night. He lays back on the bed, dark hair against his white pillowcase. After a few minutes he hears the door close again. His hands don't shake this time. It closed quietly, his mother. He hears her in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner.

He knew he was different than his brothers, he didn't like to hit people, he never did, unless his dad was there. He would rather hang out with Mandy then cause trouble with the boys his brothers hang out with. His dad hates the Gallaghers, something about their dad owing him money, but he made friends with the Gallagher boy on his little league team. His name was Ian. He had bright red hair and his face and hands were covered in freckles. Mickey had freckles too, but they were barely noticeable compared to his. Iggy had once told him a girl in his class was cute, but Mickey would much rather think of Ian like that.

He always sat with Ian when they were in the dugouts, and they ate lunch together. Ian got picked up by his sister, Fiona, his parents were never there either. Sometimes Ian's older brother would come and watch the games with Fiona. She was the oldest, and his brother was Mickey's age. Ian was seven, just like Mandy, but Mickey didn't mind that.

Ian never showed up to practice with bruises like Mickey did, but sometimes he looked a little skinnier than Mickey thought he should. Mickey's mom looked like that sometimes, but she always made sure the kids had enough food. Terry ate a lot, but whatever she could set aside went to them. His mother was always the happiest when his dad was gone, but it only ever lasted a few months. Mickey wished his dad would get arrested for something serious, so he would be gone for a long time. The last time his dad was gone, his mom made him a cake for his birthday and he actually got to eat some.

"Mikhailo, dinner." she was outside his door, she would never yell, not with Terry passed out on the couch.

"I'm not hungry, mom." Mickey's stomach grumbles as he stops talking and his throat is dry. He wants a glass of milk, but he won't leave his room. She sighs and he hears her walk across the hall, and Mandy follows her back to the kitchen to eat.

A few minutes later his mom is back at his door. She comes in this time, carrying a plate of food, and a glass of water.

"Are you okay, Mikhailo?" she sits next to his head, placing the food and water on the little table next to his bed.

"I'm fine." He thinks maybe he's getting colder. Maybe he'll be more like his dad, and the curses and slurs will fall from his mouth like they mean nothing, and maybe he'll hit people, and hate the Gallaghers. He doesn't want to turn into his dad, doesn't want to hit kids or people who say things about him in public. He wonders if it would be better if he acted different, if he stopped hanging out with Ian, and started hitting him instead, if he yells and swears at people for no reason, at Mandy or his mother. He decides that he'll do that, when his dad is around, but when he's alone, he'll be who he wants to be. He thinks that maybe then his dad will love him, and maybe he won't get hit anymore.

He yells at Ian when his dad shows up to pick him up instead of his mom, shoves Mandy off the next time she tries to hug him while Terry is watching, and he snaps when his mom calls him by his full name. Ian starts to hate him, Mandy stops trying to hug him, and his mom looks at him differently. His dad still hits him, and he still doesn't love him. Mickey gives up.

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian's only mentioned in this but i'm tagging him anyway #gallavich fanfiction #terry milkovich #mandy milkovich #iggy milkovich #mama milkovich #child abuse tw #angst #mickey as a kid

[greyknighterotica]

Hola Papi Jack,

Due to family obligations I unfortunately couldn’t make it to the live stream *frowns* I hope you and the ladies had lots of fun. I finally got into House of Cards and I got to stay Frank

It was a pretty great time. I wish my health was in better condition for the recording up on Patreon, but the live stream girls were eating out of my hand and that’s...what a stage show is. I don’t have a junk habit, I don’t randomly scream bigoted things in my public or private life. No, the issue with me is my FUCKING TUMMY.

But it’s getting better and if I HAD to have drinken medical grade cement and mortar, I would have. And that’s good to know because you can fake anything on stage for 2 hours. But I don’t wanna. I wanna give 100+ solid minutes, I mean good. That’s when I liked a show. Even if it was someone like Moby who “didn’t do much” or “have much of a stage presence.” When he rocked out into hour two? Like REALLY was present and talking between songs? I’ve never forgotten that even though he’ll never know my name. I never told him, I STILL get shit for saying Moby is one of the best shows I’ve ever been to.

So that’s what I want to do.

We’re not there. Maybe I the haters are right, maybe I can’t do it, maybe nobody will come. I put up a thing on Reddit talking about this three months ago? The only person who commented at all said that they “didn’t know” and how much better it would have gone for me if I had done it a year ago....

The only message I got--was give up. And the only messages I’ve gotten since I’ve put up the live show? Are negative, really. Shitty anons about how they can’t believe I think I’m a sex god, how any girl who hears my burps just “slams her legs shut forever.”

And I knew they would come before I hit upload. They always do. Right when I start pushing into new things....funny that. -winks-

So. While I appreciate the updates? That’s enough of each of you telling me why you didn’t make it or what your personal take was. Don’t you think?

In fact. I’m pretty sure you should say thank you for June. And nobody did. Even though I swang it with everything I had as a sick man.

I say that last line with a smile. Because I know what I had going on Friday night, half dead, more than that tired, mind full and body heavy under the fatigue of anxiety, new bills, pressures, doubts and all the rest.

....and I fucking killed it. When you THINK I was in the zone? I wasn’t even halfway to my old zen. 

So yeah.

I’m feeling real fucking good about shit. 

[kwangcvlt]

Gross Chapter 5

Pairing: Kaisoo WARNINGS: Depression and Eating DisordersSummary:  “Kyungsoo knows he’s gross, he knows he’s disgusting, but here he is, in love with the most perfect man, he thinks, has ever existed.”

Masterlist AFF Ao3

Kyungsoo was sure that at any second now his lungs were going to give up on him. His hands shook on his knees as he heaved in and out. They’d run through the new choreography a countless number of times and with each run through his strength declined his body protesting at every movement. His knees felt weak, a dull pain was stabbing his abdomen, and his stomach stinging in hunger which only further amplified his exhaustion. No matter how much he wanted just to go back to the dorms and just sleep he couldn’t. He had to keep going, he had to keep working harder, he had to lose more weight. Everyone in Exo was attractive, everyone was attractive and had so many fans to swoon over them but with his current body, he was only holding them back. He kept chanting in his head, only 15 more pounds and you’ll finally be attractive. He thought of the fans and how much they’d love him if he was thinner, handsome even. How maybe, just maybe he’d become even popular than some of the members.That drove him further. He had to keep going, dancing, singing, working, not only for the fans but all of Exo. He’d drinken 5 cups of water and eat only three crackers. 20 calories in each cracker, 60 calories in total for the day. With the ongoing practices, he could feel his body slowly losing weight as he worked off all the calories. The number on the scale had slowly been going down over the last month or so but he hadn’t lost enough. He was so close, his goal was in sight and he wasn’t about to stop now, not when everyone was counting on him. Not when so many fans were looking forward to him being attractive, like the rest of Exo. “Kyungsoo!” Kyungsoo lifted his upper body up to look at Junmyeon. He hesitated for a moment, “Yes?” “We’re starting now. Pay attention.” He’d fucked up yet again. The music began playing and Kyungsoo began moving through the steps. Kyungsoo’s mind raced as he tried to keep up with the other members. Junmyeon was probably angry at him, he probably wouldn’t talk to him for days. He was such a disappointment, why couldn’t he just get things right, he couldn’t dance, he could sing. That was the only reason he’s in Exo. He wasn’t handsome like the other members, he only had his voice, they knew that and the fans knew that. However, Baekhyun’s vocals were just as strong as his, if not better, if he were to leave Exo it would be like he had never been there in the first place. Baekhyun would take his place, the fans would probably be so grateful to get someone as ugly as him away from the rest of the members. His members would be so happy too if he just- “Kyungsoo!” He froze, he’d done it again hadn’t he, “You’re off beat.” Junmyeon sighed, “Let’s go again.” He’d had done it yet again, he’d held everyone back. He was such a failure, how long would it be until the boys grew sick of him, till all the fans hated him rather than simply tolerating him, how long till the members finally realized he wasn’t worth all of the trouble until he was kicked out? The song started again and Kyungsoo began to move once more. The pain in his chest growing with every passing second. The burning hunger becoming more unbearable with each beat. He didn’t want to but he had to stop and suddenly he was frozen to his spot. The music cut off second later. “Kyungsoo, what are you doing?” Junmyeon yelled turning towards him. Kyungsoo felt dizzy, his stomach was hurting an unreal amount. Black dotted his eyesight as he struggled to keep upright. “Are you okay, Kyungsoo?” He couldn’t recognize the voice, he knew it was one of the members but his mind was too hazy, his thoughts too obscured to know which one. He could vaguely make out a hand on his shoulder, but with the growing distortion of the world, it simply felt as if a ghost was touching him. “I’m fine,” He managed to mutter, “Just restart the song.” “We’re not going to restart the song Kyungsoo, you’re obviously sick.” Another voice spoke, Kyungsoo couldn’t place this one either. It was beginning to bug him. “No, no, really I’m fine.” Speaking was difficult, his vision kept growing increasingly darker, black specks slowly taking over his vision but he ignored it. He couldn’t stop, he had to keep going, he couldn’t delay practice, he couldn’t let the boys all suffer at his expense, “I promise I’m fi-,” And suddenly Kyungsoo could feel his body go limp as the world went black. _____

“Kyungsoo! Kyungsoo!” Kyungsoo slowly opened his eyes, he could feel a hand quickly patting his cheek in an attempt to awaken him. He looked up. His eyes landed on Jongin’s worried face. He was being held by him who had wrapped him tight in his muscular arms, Kyungsoo’s head forced against his firm chest. If Kyungsoo had the energy he would have been blushing. The other members crouched down around him looking intensely at him, concern on their faces. “I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo whispered. He struggled to keep from crying, “I’m so sorry.” He spoke louder this time. His throat closed painfully at the attempt to keep from crying but it was a failure, tears rushed down his cheeks. “Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol spoke, “What happened? Why did you keep going?” “I’m so sorry.” he said again. “Soo, why are you sorry you’re the one who passed out, I should be sorry for continuing to push you.” Junmyeon spoke, “But why didn’t you say anything?” “I’m sorry,” He hiccuped, “I know I’m stopping practice, I’m so sorry.” Tears continued to fall rapidly. “What are you talking about Soo?” Baekhyun whispered, grabbing his hand, “Screw practice, you’re sick.” “No!” Kyungsoo yelled sitting up too quickly making him light headed once again. Pushing Jongin’s arms off of him, his tears stopping abruptly as he tried to find the words. Kyungsoo’s voice was soft as he spoke. “I can’t hold you guys back, I can go to the dorm and you all can keep practicing. You guys can’t stop improving just because I did something stupid.” “Kyungsoo, I know you’re upset for push yourself but-” Junmyeon started. “Of course I should push myself,” Kyungsoo spoke louder this time, Baekhyun squeezed his hand. “I shouldn’t have passed out, if I had kept going it would have been fine, but I didn’t.” The hunger was slowly creeping back to Kyungsoo, just as strong as before. It was taking over his mind as he desperately tried to ignore it. “Soo,” This time it was Jongin who spoke, “What are you talking about? How do you expect us to keep going when you are suffering like this?” Kyungsoo sighed, “I’m not suffering you guys are.” The members looked at him confused, “How exactly are we suffering Kyungsoo?” Sehun asked, his voice on edge as if he knew the answer that was coming. As if he could tell just how much Kyungsoo was hating himself. Kyungsoo let out a short laugh, “It’s obvious isn’t it?” He looked around at all of the members, their expressions the same as before, Kyungsoo paused pulling his hand away from Baekhyun, “You have to be in a group with me.” The room went deathly silent as the members absorbed the words just spoken. Several emotions played across all 11 boys faces, confusion, to sadness, then finally anger. “What the fuck are you saying?” Kris yelled, rage seeping from his voice. Kyungsoo flinched. “I know that Exo would be better without be-” “Don’t you dare say that.” Jongin growled, “How could we, how could I, even function without you? You’re an important part of this team, no this family.” “Kyungsoo,” Yixing spoke his voice a comforting contrast to the two boys who had just spoken, “When we say “We are one” we mean it, you’re a part of us. You don’t hold us back, you move us forward.” “He’s right, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Jongin, “Without you who would cook for me, or watch movies with me, or cuddle with me when I’m cold? Who would make me smile whenever I’m not feeling my best? Who could be there for me like you are?” Kyungsoo looked at him in shock, “Those things don’t bother you?” “Bother me? Why would they ever bother me?” “Because, well, because I’m gross.” Jongin grabbed both of his hands with his own larger ones wrapping firmly around them, “Don’t you ever say that again. You’re perfect, okay. That’s why, well that’s why,” Jongin stammered, the words not fully coming out. “That’s why what?” Kyungsoo asked. “That’s why you’re my best friend.” Jongin finally spoke. Kyungsoo nodded, best friend, Kyungsoo thought solemnly, of course, what else? Kyungsoo yelled at himself for getting his hopes up, Jongin would never look at him that way, Jongin would never love him like how he does. Jongin could say he was perfect but he knew that was a lie, he knew the truth, that he was nowhere near perfect, near attractive even. Most of all, the thing Kyungsoo could never change, was that Kyungsoo was a boy. A fact that would never let Jongin look at him, a fact that would forever keep him stuck as just a friend. Baekhyun sighed loudly, “Man you guys are still chasing circles around each other?” Kyungsoo looked at him “What do you mean?” Kyungsoo asked. “Nothing,” Baekhyun sighed again, “Let’s just go home, okay Soo?” Kyungsoo nodded, “Let’s go home.” _____

The members, mostly Jongin, refused to let Kyungsoo walk home after his fainting spell, forcing him to give him ride on Jongin’s back. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest and he tried desperately not to focus on the heat emitting from Jongin’s back onto his chest. “I’m sorry I’m so heavy,” Kyungsoo whispered in his ear. Jongin laughed, “I thought we talked about this earlier? You’re extremely light Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo smiled to himself, burying his face in the back of Jongin’s back, slowly inhaling his scent. He didn’t know when he’d have this opportunity again, the chance to be slow close to Jongin without the taller questioning it. The trip back to the dorm never seemed shorter than he’d ever experienced in the entire time Kyungsoo had been living there. Before he knew it Jongin was sitting him down on the couch and turning around to face him. “Soo, your shoes are still on I’ll take them off for you, okay?” He smiled. Kyungsoo panicked, “No, you don’t have to do that.” But it was too late Jongin was already untying his shoelaces before slowly sliding his first shoe off. “I’m sorry if they smell…” Jongin chuckled, “We live in a dorm with 10 other boys Soo, this is nothing. Even if the did smell, which they surprisingly don’t, they couldn’t smell much worse than me right now.” Kyungsoo frowned, “You don’t smell bad.” Jongin looked up at him as he pulled the other shoe off, “Kyungie, you don’t have to go light on me, I’m covered in sweat right now.” “Even sweaty you smell nice.” Kyungsoo blushed, he’d slipped up. Jongin looked down and Kyungsoo could faintly see a smile playing on his lips. “Soo,” Jongin said looking back up, “You really shouldn’t say things like that to me.” “Sorry,” Kyungsoo spoke quietly. Jongin looked straight into his eyes, softly taking Kyungsoo’s hand, “It makes me too flustered when you say stuff like that.” Kyungsoo’s face heated up, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Suddenly the hunger in his stomach was replaced with butterflies as he looked into Jongin’s brown eyes. Never before had Kyungsoo been more conscious of his hand in his life. “Kyungsoo,” He pulled his hand away quickly as he heard Baekhyun call his name from behind, “You get in the shower first okay?” He turned around to look at him “Okay!” “Woah, Woah, Woah, you just passed out no way you’re getting in the shower now,” Jongin argued. “Fine then,” Baekhyun countered, “You get in with him.” Kyungsoo's face went red as he thought of that situation, Jongin would then surely know his feelings then. “No way,” Jongin replied. Of course, Kyungsoo thought, why would Jongin ever want to do that. “Okay,” Kyungsoo could see a smirk form on Baekhyun’s mouth, “I’m sure Sehun would be willing to do it.” “No!” Jongin yelled, his eyes quickly flashed from Kyungsoo back to Baekhyun, “I’ll shower with him it’s fine.” “Jongin you really don’t-” “No Soo, it’s final,” He interrupted, “You can’t just shower alone.” “Then why can’t I shower with Sehun?” “Because,” Jongin paused, “Because I know you better than Sehun and because that’s just the way it is.” Kyungsoo looked at him, confused, “But I really don’t get-” “Oh my god Soo,” Baekhyun cut in, “Just go get in the shower already, the rest of us can’t go until you get out.” Kyungsoo nodded. He watched as Jongin stood up in front of him before sticking his hand out for Kyungsoo to grab. “Let’s go then Soo.” And Kyungsoo slowly took his hand.