#then i looked at asks; remembered vane

[shiningstages]

Me, thinking about Halloween Vane’s Fate EPs, and then thinking about my OC Aisling’s GBF verse: *chinhands*

#;big bubble blowing baby! ( ooc ) #( i looked at aisling's page on a whim and..........remembered time period things weren't connecting fxgffhxgdhxg #so i changed some stuff a little and added some info; including when she died in her main verses #then i looked at asks; remembered vane #looked at aisling's gbf verse; remembered the whole fate eps with hal!vane are to help this lil well ghost......... #it's a very cute story; reccommended read for everyone #but it makes me think vane would maybe get attached to / instantly big brotherly with aisling quickly #not that she's a young kid; but probably getting her struggles and wanting to help her out as much as possible #i feel like he'd end up prying too much into her past to try and find a solution for moving on for her #and eventually fixes the rift between them caused by that prying by just trying to give her the best life she never had #because he's that caring and loving of a guy...........i love this man your honor #that said; i feel like vane would remind her of antonio in that kind of caring willingness and need to help out people #though antonio is not a himbo in my mind; he's a very smart boy that can't be easily tricked and can read the room well #in my mind aisling is as still old undead-wise as she is in her main verses though which makes me wonder what she's #like been alive for gbf-wise??? since she's 188 y/o fdggjfhjghf )

[b4kuch1n]

myth of the bare palm

text:

Our kind used to be hulking things of feathers and claws,

more gods than animals, roaming the snowed planes endless,

until we found each others

and in jubilant relief reached out

claws retracting,

feathers shedding,

so the moment of contact branded heat against bare skin.

#bakuspecial #comic #original art #ask to tag #hi! more creachure #for the record my perspective on this is that I'd fucking love to look like that^ and the #shedding of claws and feathers is a sacrifice #okay Im done lol annual cringe poetry slot filled #what do we learn? well we learn we should remember to prep our gotdamn nib #(I forgot to remove the oil on the nib lol I just plugged that shit in raw on purchase) #(no wonder it held like. two drops of ink at most) #and we learn drawing feathers with a dip pen slaps. just kinetically awesome #movement so slick I forgot and did the vane direction backward for the majority of this lmao #but it was fun. I also forwent the light table for this one so I didnt have to glue my eyes to the paper or turn off my light #waiting for the ink to dry properly sucks tho... well. you win some you lose some #okay. I gotta so lay down now. or eat dinner I havent decided #have a good nite! collide with a guy at high velocity okay?

[bit-odd-innit]

Fic: One Good Honest Kiss

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Eddie, pancaked on Steve’s bedroom floor, scrunches his shoulders up to his ears in an approximate shrug. He’s drunk. They’re both drunk. “I think he was nice.” “You think?!” “I don’t know, dude.” Eddie’s hands drag over his face, through his hair, his arms and fingers unfurling vine-like above his head. His back arches into the stretch. Steve’s eyes flick to the flash of skin between the hem of Eddie’s shirt and the top of his belt. “I was nineteen, it was dark, and he was nice. What more do you want.” Steve should let it go. It’s nothing. It’s inconsequential. But also no it’s not. It’s fishhooked deep within his chest cavity, yanking him off the bed and floundering to sit at Eddie’s hip. His hand closes around Eddie’s knee. “Your first kiss is supposed to mean something.” Eddie snorts. “Says who?” “Says—I don’t know, society?” “When have I ever adhered to the weather-vaning whims of society?” “...Weather-vaning?” “Like, uhh, like fucking...the ever-shifting winds of change...” “Ohhh.” “Like. The wind. Guh. I don’t know. I’m a...metal...guy...on peoples roofs?” “Uh-huh?” “You’re mocking me.” “Yeah. But go on.” “I don’t know!” His voice bubbles with laughter. “I don’t know. People want things in a way? And I’m different, in a way. Stop laughing.” It’s easy to be buoyed by Eddie’s exuberance. It’s easy to lose the plot in the sparkling, seafoamy burst of his laughter. His forearms flop to fold over each other, ringed fingers gripping his opposite elbows. His tongue rests like a meek chewing gum bubble between the rows of his teeth, his grin self-effacing. His eyes are fixed, unmoving, on Steve’s face. As if he’s searching for something Steve is unwilling or unable to concede. “I don’t know, man,” Eddie groans. “I wanted to get it over with.” At once Steve is dragged back, bereft, to shore. “Honey,” he says and he shouldn’t, sees how Eddie’s body jerks as if electroshocked.    “Yeah. Well.” Eddie is no longer looking at him. “What’re ya gonna do?”

“Do you want a do-over?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “What?” “A do-over. Like.” There’s a tear in Eddie’s jeans in the center of his thigh. His thumbnail catches in the soft, spiderweb-like white thread, the calloused pad grazing Eddie’s skin. “Like you can get the Moment you always wanted.” “You don’t know what I want.” He pushes the words out of him, like he’s grappling down his body’s base impulses. “I’m asking what you want.” Eddie’s mouth falls open around a sigh. He blinks, slow. “How did you kiss those girls?” His voice is low but his legs slide out from under him. Steve’s hand travels, involuntary, to Eddie’s hip. “You’ve got a reputation. How did you kiss them?” Steve rolls to crush Eddie beneath his weight. One hand settles over the cross-section of Eddie’s wrists, the other buries itself in Eddie’s hair. “Do you want me to kiss you like I kissed those girls?” Eddie whines. “Oh. Honey.” Eddie’s arms lock around Steve’s neck. “Do you want me to kiss you like one of my girls?” Eddie’s ankle hooks around Steve’s thigh. “Do you want to be my girl?” “Oh God,” Eddie pants. “Please. Please. Kiss me first?” “Mm?” “Want to feel wanted,” Eddie exhales. “Want to feel wanted by you—” And he melts as Steve’s mouth crushes into Eddie’s, sinks into him like rain-drunk soil. Feels the scratch of carpet biting at the backs of his arms; tries to remember where the carpet touches Eddie; tries to put himself between the fabric and Eddie’s skin. Kisses slow, gentle, tender. Kisses likes he’s trying to erase everything bad that came before. Kisses like he’s trying to be the first. “Steve,” Eddie murmurs against his lips. “You’re my girl,” Steve replies, nonsensical, using every muscle in his body to steady Eddie’s trembling. He kisses the corners of his mouth and Eddie makes a sound that lodges itself in the chambers of Steve’s heart. “You’re my girl.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fanfic

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

You know what I've decided that Lucius was dirt fucking poor like the rest of them and then he became a marginally successful hooker and used that money to pay for a tutor or go to a university or whatever. It gives his little "Do we look like prostitutes" "Not terribly successful ones" line new depth, it explains why he's working for Stede (he ran out of money but now he has qualifications to dabble in other occupations, ones that might allow him to travel), and it explains why his go to ways to get out of any given problem are sex and blackmail. I'll bet it's why he's so good at relationships. We like to project relationship councilor onto him, but a relationship councilor would never yell at a client like that. But you know who does yell at clients like that. Prostitutes dealing with entitled Johns. Also that boy has saved multiple Johns' failing marriages through pillow talk. When somebody is paying you to fuck them and then you finish fucking early but he's still got 30 minutes, you might get a guy's life story and he might ask you for some advice, just saying.

He's hooker coded you guys. My third eye just opened. Like he can't be rich because he was "a bit of a pickpocket back in the day" i.e. stealing for an occupation, but he had to get his hands on books somehow to learn to read and that's how. Lucius isn't middle class he's a prostitute. I'm betting that the progression of Lucius's life goes like this:

under 18 - pickpocket street urchin

18- 29 - hooker

29+ - pirate but in a way where he doesn't have to get his hands too dirty.

Also hot take but it might explain why he's not intimidated by Ed. Like the culture of piracy is to respect the captain or get hit, and to look up to these very successful pirates, but that's definitely not the culture of sex work. There was that high profile madam bust in hollywood where Charlie Sheen testified and I can't remember exactly what it was he said but basically it boiled down to "I'm famous. I'm not paying the girls to have sex with me I'm paying them to leave me alone after we have sex." And Ed is rock star coded. What I'm saying is that if Lucius was hooking in the Caribbean he knows at least somebody who has fucked a very famous pirate captain and he knows exactly what embarrassing shit that famous pirate captain asked them to do. He knows about Calico Jack's piss kink and he knows that Charles Vane has a foot fetish, and he has it on very good authority that Captain Kidd likes getting pegged. Blackbeard wouldn't come off so hot if you had all that information in your back pocket is what I'm saying. Like the other guys are looking at Ed like "Oh wow it's pirate Beyonce. he's like a god he's the top of his game he's everything I could ever hope to be." and Lucius is looking at him like "I bet your into pain play, aren't you" And he's right.

#lucius spriggs #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #I've cracked the fucking code you guys

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

rumour has it // george weasley

Summary: You and George had a perfect relationship, but everything crumbles when you are told that he’s cheating on you.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: accusations of cheating, angst, miscommunitation, fluff

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @allyjoe755​ for proofreading this!

main masterlist

You were never the type to believe in rumors. Especially those that spread throughout the school. They appeared as the social junk food that fattened the thoughts. You were the type of person who believed that "seeing is believing." So why did you believe Rionach O'Neal when she approached you after Herbology class to tell you that you were being cheated on, even if you hadn’t seen it for yourself?

Was it because she seemed nice and sincere in her pity for you? Perhaps it was your trust issues that told you this day would come sooner or later. Were you even surprised? It didn't help that George had been behaving strangely lately, canceling your dates, disappearing for hours, and providing vague explanations.

Oh, and how could you forget about the purple bruise you noticed on his neck this morning, and how he quickly dismissed it, claiming it was caused by Quiddich tryouts? You loved George and trusted him, so you had no reason to suspect he was lying… But now that voice in the back of your head was screaming at you, calling you an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner.

You felt pathetic. If Rionach O’Neil caught George snogging Romilda Vane, anyone could have too.

Why couldn't George be honest with you about his desire to end his relationship with you? Yes, it would have hurt, but you would have granted his wishes and let him go. Why did he feel the need to go behind your back and humiliate you? Was he worried about your reaction? Or perhaps he didn't have the courage to tell you and was waiting for you to notice that he was no longer interested in you.

You had no idea how long you had been crying in your dorm, lying on your bed, face buried in your pillow, hot tears soaking it. But when Angelina Johnson came in to tell you it was time for dinner, your eyes were still bloodshot, matching your hot, red, sweaty cheeks.

“Y/N,” She sounded concerned, and she dashed to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “What happened?”

The tears stopped flowing at some point, but seeing your friend's worried expression asking what was wrong brought the conversation with Rionach back to your mind, and your eyes began to stream again unconsciously.

Angelina tried her best to calm you down. She hugged you and assured you that everything would be fine, but nothing seemed to take away the way your body was shaking or stop the tears from falling. So she posed the question she believed would make you feel better.

“Would you like me to look for George?”

It did nothing but make your mood worse. Angelina picked up on it. “Wait. Is George the reason you are crying?” She didn't think of it as a first choice because she'd seen you and George together. You were so in love with each other that some people would consider it sickening. She and your other friends were always making fun of the fact that you had the young twin wrapped around your finger. So the idea of George hurting you was unthinkable. “What did that dimwit do?”

“H-he... he ch- cheated,” your voice broke through the sobs. Angelina's expression changed from concerned to angry as soon as the words left your mouth.

“Bloody git,” your friend muttered under her breath as she tightened her embrace around you, rubbing your back, trying to comfort you. “He doesn't deserve you, Y/N.”

“Why did he do that, Angie? Was I not good enough?”

“No way, no how. Don’t think that. This has nothing to do with you. You hear me? He’s an idiot for doing that to you. It's his loss because he'll never find anyone better than you.”

You'd been avoiding him all week, which was driving George insane. Were you upset with him? He had no idea what he had done to irritate you, and he couldn't apologize to you because every time he entered the same room as you, you left.

He missed you. He missed sitting next to you at lunch and wrapping his arm around your shoulder just to feel the sensation of touching you, he missed you forcing him to watch muggle movies and him complaining but secretly loving it because he couldn't take his gaze away from you every time he asked something he didn't understand and you eagerly explaining it to him. He missed your late-night sneak outs after curfew to the Black Lake to spend time alone.

George just missed you.

And when he asked Angelina if he knew what was wrong with you and she gave him a murderous glare just to leave seconds later he knew something was up.

"I just wish I knew what I'd done." His body collapsed on one of the Gryffindor common room couches as he complained to his twin brother about the situation he found himself in.

"It must have been pretty bad if even Angie is upset with you."

“Did she say anything to you?” He inquired, hopeful. Perhaps his brother's girlfriend had confided in him, but when he saw Fred shaking his head, he sulked once more.

“I’m sorry, mate. I asked, but she just said ‘Ask George’.” The older twin mimicked the words that left his girlfriend’s mouth days prior.

“So I’ve done something.” His voice was exasperated, tired even. “How am I supposed to fix it if I have no idea what I did in the first place?”

“It’s really not that difficult. You just have to stop thinking I’m an idiot that was never going to find out about it.”

George turned to see you standing behind him. You had a solemn expression on your face that matched your hard tone. You were carrying a box in your arms, which you carelessly dropped on the floor. He caught a glimpse of what you were carrying and noticed a sweater with the letter G knitter in the middle, pictures of the two of you together, and a slew of other things he gave to you throughout your relationship.

“Love, I-”  You cut him off before he could say anything.

“Don’t call me that.” You kicked the box on the floor to bring it closer to him. “Take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that has to do with you.”

“What have you done, mate?” Fred couldn't believe what he was seeing with his eyes. It was the first time he'd seen you upset. Like, really upset. Usually, when he and George did something stupid, you would pretend to be angry and roll your eyes at them, but a smile always formed on your face, revealing that you were just messing with them. This time, however, there was no smile. Just a stoic expression on your delicate features.

George turned to face his twin, but said nothing. This resulted in a dry chuckle leaving your mouth. “Yeah, Georgie,” The nickname he loved to hear from you, always with such tenderness, was now laced with venom, and it made George’s stomach twist. “Why don’t you tell your dear brother what you have done?”

But, once again, George simply stood there in front of you, completely helpless, which only infuriated you even more. Not only could he not admit the truth to you, but he couldn’t tell his own twin brother, either?

Seeing that his brother was not going to say anything, Fred opted for asking you. “What did he do, Y/N?”

“He cheated on me,” you stated unequivocally. The boys in front of you had completely different reactions. Fred appeared stunned. He would have expected you to say anything other but those words. He knew how much in love with you his twin was. George never shut up about you, about how perfect, smart, funny and nice you were. He even talked about proposing to you once you graduated. So he couldn’t fully believe that George was stupid enough to throw it all that away. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed perplexed; he, too, had not expected that response.

“He did what?”

You shrugged, not really interested in prolonging the situation. But before you could exit the common room, you felt compelled to deliver the punchline. “You should give those to Romilda; I'm sure she'd love them.” As you kicked the box on the floor again, you made sure to emphasise the sarcasm in your voice.

“Romilda? What are you talking about?”

“Did you get with Romilda Vane?” Fred scrunched up his nose, a disgusted expression on his face.

“Yes, he did.” “No, I didn’t.” You and George both responded at the same time.

Fred's gaze shifted from you to his brother a few times before he rose from the couch. “I believe it is best if I leave. This appears to be a private conversation.” Before heading up the stairs to the dorms, the ginger boy patted his brother on the back.

George returned his focus to you. “Y/N, what is going on? Where did you get the idea that I was cheating on you with Romilda Vane from?”

“So, you're going to keep denying it?”

“Yes, I’m going to keep denying it, because it’s not true.”

“If it’s not true then why have you been cancelling our dates? Or disappearing for hours just to give me a lame excuse about it. Like you did with the mark on your neck.”

George stroked the bruise on his neck with his left hand “You reckon it’s a lovebite?” He asked dumbfounded. “I thought you were smarter than that, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. But obviously we were both wrong. Because if I was smart I would have seen it for myself and not needed Rionach O'Neal to point it out to me”

George groaned, running his hand through his unkempt hair. “So you believed a rumor spread by a classmate. That's fantastic, Y/N. It's wonderful to see how much trust you have in me.”

Was he being serious? He had no right to be offended and turn this into a personal attack. “I believe what I see. And all I’ve seen for the past few weeks is my boyfriend neglecting me.”

You vowed to yourself that you would not cry in front of him. You were not going to give him that satisfaction. He didn't deserve your tears, as Angelina said. But you were an emotional person and this conversation was getting the best of you. This is not how you imagined it would be. You were simply supposed to hand George the box containing his belongings and walk away from him. He wasn't supposed to respond by questioning your actions.

When he saw how broken you looked, George's expression softened. “I’m sorry, love. It was never my intention to make you feel that way.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You didn’t find it in you to call him out about the term of endearment. You were tired and you didn’t want to fight anymore.

“It does matter. Look, I know how my actions for the past weeks must have looked, but I swear on my life that I am not cheating on you with Romilda Vane. Or any other girl, for that matter. You are the only one I am interested in. You are the only one I see. I love you, Y/N. You are the first girl I ever loved. I've never felt this way about anyone.”

During George's speech, you remained silent, your gaze fixed on the floor. You didn't feel capable of holding his gaze. Your boyfriend approached you with caution, testing the waters. When he saw you didn't take a step back, he reached his hand to your face, softly grabbing your chin and lifting it so your eyes could finally meet.

“What have you been up to these past weeks then?” Your voice was soft, almost shy. You wanted to believe George’s words. You desperately wanted to believe George's words. You truly did. But there were still things that didn't add up, and you wanted to be certain before making a decision you might regret later.

George sighed. “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” You frowned at the odd question. “Tuesday?” He let out a small chuckle at your confusion. “Yes. But what day is it?”

“March 12th.” And then it clicked. “Our anniversary.”

How could you have forgotten? You had been so busy being mad at George, and trying to avoid him, that it completely slipped your mind that your 3 year anniversary was coming up.

“I've been planning this surprise for you. I wanted to make it special. That's why I've been disappearing and cancelling our plans. I wanted it to be perfect. You can ask Fred and Lee; they’ve been helping me out.”

He spoke again before you could respond. "Please wait here." He said, and you watched him fade away as he strode up the stairs to his dorm.

Just a few minutes later, he was back in front of you, holding a small box and motioning for you to take it. You took the small box from his grasp and carefully opened it. When you saw what was inside, you let out a small gasp.

The turquoise bay blue sea glass was wrapped in a wire, a starfish charm and a freshwater pearl hanging from the chain as well. This had to be the most beautiful pendant you had ever seen.

“I made it myself.” George’s voice made you tear your glassy eyes from the pendant. “I remember how you said you loved the sea, and how you used to go every summer with your parents when you were a kid, so I wanted you to have something that reminds you of that, I guess.”

You couldn't keep the tears from falling anymore, so you let them. You were overtaken by guilt. You'd been ignoring George for the past week with no explanation, not caring how he felt. And you had treated him so badly earlier, when you dropped the box containing all of your memories like it was trash. On the other hand, he was working on a meaningful, one-of-a-kind gift for your anniversary. And when you yelled at him and were nothing but rude to him, he could have become enraged and yelled back at you, but he didn't.  He remained calm, because that’s who George was, and you didn’t deserve him.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “I’m really sorry.”

When you began to shake, George tightly wrapped his arms around you. You hid your face in his chest, and he rested his chin on your head while kissing you lightly. “It’s alright, love.”

When you pulled apart, he cupped your face in his hands, wiping the remaining tears with his thumbs. “I should have come to you, and asked you about it. I shouldn’t have believed Rionach right away. But I let my self-doubts get the best of me and-” George placed his index finger on your lips, preventing you from speaking further.

“It’s alright, Y/N. Really. Don’t worry your pretty little mind about it anymore.”

“So, do you forgive me?”

Your boyfriend smiled at you, sweetly. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

You cast a quick glance at the pendant still resting on the small box in your hand, then returned your attention to your boyfriend. “I know it’s not our anniversary yet, but would you mind putting it on me?”

George smiled as he removed the pendant from the box and hung it around your neck. “It’s really beautiful. I love it, George.”

“Anything for you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and his hands quickly moved to your waist, drawing you closer to him. He looked down, meeting your gaze, now tear-free. “I love you, Georgie.”

“I love you, too, love.” He closed the small gap between you, his lips meeting yours for the first time in a week.

#george weasley #harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley fic #george weasley one shot #harry potter imagine #fred and goerge weasley #weasley twins

[rivertalesien]

Death is not the end.

The rusty creak of a weather vane cut through the quiet over the leaf-strewn grounds.

Staring at the words carved in stone, Clarke traced them in her mind, over and over, as she pulled at a handful of weeds and replaced the old dead flowers with the fresh-cut bouquet she’d bought at the little supermarket on her way to the cemetery. 

Death is not the end. Death is not the end. Death is not the end.

She thought about the cashier who’d wrapped the flowers for her, an older woman, maybe as old as her grandmother, someone who should have retired by now (but who can retire anymore, she’d wondered). The surgical paper mask had slipped down the woman’s nose several times as she looked down at the thin sheets of paper, the skin of her fingers worn almost the same.

Who were they for, she’d asked, absently, reaching for a strip of tape off an old plastic reel of Scotch.

Is it someone’s birthday? Spooky time of year for it.

Clarke shook her head and smiled, reaching for a packet of Wintergreen chewing gum. Her heart was skipping and the sudden stops were making her dizzy.

“Oh, it’s a date, huh?” 

“Sort of.” 

Sliding her card through the reader, she declined the receipt and gave a short thanks to the woman, who adjusted her mask and eyed her as she took up her purchases and made a slight gesture with one hand.

“It’ll get better, you know. It always does.”

Clarke was unsure what the cashier might be referring to: maybe she was thinking of the pandemic, maybe she thought someone was ill. Nodding, she pushed gently at the double doors and stepped outside, moving smoothly past a neglected pile of small pumpkins resting on hay bales.  

Reaching for her keys Clarke took a small breath, grateful that the skies were still clear even if it smelled like rain was on its way and the trees were drizzling red and gold around her car.

It’ll get better. It’ll get better. It always does.

Death is not the end. 

Then what is it?

She shook slightly and remembered where she was.

Touching the engraved L and E and X and A, as if her fingers could reach through the letters and caress the person this once was; a face she hadn’t seen in three years, a voice she hadn’t heard, a kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone else.

A grief that wasn’t going away.

“I love you, Lex. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do.”

It was dark by the time she left and the leaves were piling high on the grass, crunching beneath her shoes like old newspapers.

She could still smell the rain on the way, but something had shifted. She was tired. Bed would be easy tonight.

As she started the car and drove off, the weathervane creaked again.

And changed direction.

*

“I know it’s a bad time, Clarke, but I was wondering if you could come in for just a bit on Monday? I’ve got someone I think you’d be good with and maybe it’d be good for you. Just call me back when you get this. Love you.”

Clarke deleted her mother’s message, tossing her phone on the saggy green couch before flopping down in Lexa’s old leather armchair. It had been her dad’s and she’d lugged it around from Navy dorms to small apartments until it had finally found a permanent home in the little Craftsman they’d bought six years ago. Clarke laughed a little to herself. For something she was so devoted to, Lexa had rarely sat in it. She just liked the aesthetic of it. And that it was her dad’s.

They’d lost their fathers at almost the same time, both men working in different parts of the same building, both unable to escape when a bomb went off in a bathroom and took out nine floors in just under two minutes. Clarke had received a single text: I love you, sweetheart, hours before she’d finally answered all the missed calls, still trying to avoid Finn, and couldn’t stop crying for days afterward.

They had met at the memorial service, where the President gave a speech that rang hollow and bitter and hypocritical and Lexa was forced to stand at attention with her squadron and salute the man who had helped ignite and fund the war that led to the terrible tragedies that seemed to be plaguing random cities all over.

Clarke had noticed her outright, recognized her from the news reports, though she looked more polished than the footage of her in a flight suit, giving a press briefing from an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic somewhere.

Commander Woods’ elegy to her father had been through clenched teeth and pain, perhaps only partly from the wound in her shoulder, where she’d taken two slugs from an enemy rifle only three weeks before. Standing before the congregation in the Sixth Avenue Church, Lexa had first said the words Clarke couldn’t get out of her mind, even now, almost ten years later.

Death is not the end.

Finn had shown up, though, uninvited, wanting to pay his respects, wanting to apologize, again, wanting Clarke back, again, and it was Raven who surprised him and dragged him out, offering Clarke a small apology as they left. She had just wanted to get some air, to be alone, to not listen to her mother grieving with all the other widows and to expel Finn’s presence for good. She could hardly picture her dad, even with his photo on the tall easel. Nothing felt real.

She hadn’t expected to see the rumpled military figure sitting on a small bench under the church’s stone lichgate, tugging at the knees of her uniform trousers, as if irritated with the material. She hadn’t expected her eyes to be so soft and gray or how quiet her voice could be. They’d sat together under the small shelter as the rain fell and the world slipped away.

Curling up in the chair, Clarke lingered in that memory: how an hour had passed and then another and how phones rang but no one answered them and how, when the rain let up, Clarke made sure Lexa followed her home.

Always staying a few steps ahead, sometimes turning to look back, never speaking, not even when they got to the door.

Clarke left it open as she stopped in the middle of the empty living room and waited as the door was closed and long fingers pulled down the zipper of her dress, then the straps, smooth over her shoulders, as a gentle breath warmed her cheek. As arms slipped around her and held her tightly, groping her breasts, as lips pressed rough and sweet at the wild pulse in her throat.

She could always smile at the memory of that first time, both in terrible need of something, anything to bury the ache, to feel anything but their pain. How they clutched and clung and held on for dear life as they lost themselves in one another and found it too perfect to stop. She could remember every detail: the color of the ceiling, the contrast of Lexa’s jacket, the polished shoes kicked into a corner as she was lifted, laid against the table, almost eaten alive, almost until she was screaming.

It was torture now, remembering how Lexa felt, how her hands shook, the glint of her watch, the scent of her shampoo, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at her from between her legs as she burrowed into Clarke’s soul through her cunt and made her forget.

Days of fucking and sleeping and so few words passing between them; that’s how it was, until Lexa had to return to assignment, had to fly off into hell and gone and how they had both shuddered, almost painfully, at that last time, in the back of the rental, where Clarke had bit her so hard it left a scar under her ear and they cried in frustration at one last release, slotted so hard and hot between them, pressing until it hurt, hoping the hurt would make goodbye easier.

But it wasn’t and it didn’t and it only took three years to get a yes out of her, and a ring, and a place for her dad’s chair.

Reaching between her thighs, Clarke ached now, worse than any ache she’d ever known, and pressed into herself until the ache settled a little and she could lose herself in sleep.

Outside, the rain fell.

*

“Oh god you’re soaked. Come in, quick.”

Clarke held the door open as Raven entered, dripping but smiling, holding what looked

like a bag of groceries.

“I was in the area, thought I should visit. Wow, Clarke. What have you been doing?”

Shaking off her jacket, Raven made a slow inspection of the living room, noting all the piles of books and boxes and empty fast food bags.

Hanging up her friend’s coat, Clarke shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold.

“Just thought I’d do some spring clinging, dust, you know.” 

“Well, it’s October, and aren’t these Lexa’s?”

Picking up a dusty volume, Raven flipped through the pages.

Clarke dropped back into the leather chair and nodded.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d maybe go through them. Figure out what to keep.”

“She really had a library, huh?”

“If you want something, just, go ahead.”

Raven stopped and looked back at Clarke, curled up in her spot, a red-wine throw draped over her shoulders. 

“Hey, I stopped at the Dragon and brought some food. I got those noodles you like and the chicken. We can eat and I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’m okay, Raven. Really.”

“You haven’t been to work for a week.” 

Clarke sighed and pulled the throw up to her chin.

Why does everyone have to fuss?

“I’m fine. I get down sometimes. I’ll get over it. I’ll be back at work on Monday.”

Kneeling by the chair, Raven picked invisible lint off the blanket.

“Abby said you were thinking about quitting.”

“It’s got nothing to do with Lex. I’ve been thinking about taking up painting again and I just need a little less stress in my life. That’s good, right?”

Raven nodded.

“You’d really walk away? I mean, it’s kind of been your life, Clarke.”

Gritting herself, Clarke took a calming breath.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, I just need some time to do that. I need something different, Raven. I’m not like my mom. I’m not like Wells. They just don’t get it and I’m tired of having to explain it. I’ll be fine. I just need…something else.”

She was everything and she’s gone and took everything with her.

Rubbing at Clarke’s covered foot, Raven attempted a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m not here to pile-on. Come on. Let’s eat and sort some books.”

*

It was after midnight when Raven left, taking a box of books with her.

Clarke had tried to offer Lexa’s piano, but Raven doubted it would fit in the car and doubted further that Clarke really wanted to part with it. Music was Lexa’s first love, even if her dad and the military put it second and it was a love she shared with Clarke through mix tapes and play lists and old vinyl and late night slow dances in the kitchen.

In such moments they would dream up names for their fantasy lounge act, with Clarke draped across the piano like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys, but all the good ones were taken and Lexa had read where the actress had to wear knee and elbow pads for the scene, so the idea was often floated around but then abandoned by the time they reached their bed.

Sitting at the dusty keyboard, Clarke tried to remember a few notes Lexa had taught her, an old Billie Holiday song she’d always loved.

Ask the sky above And ask the earth below Why I'm so in love And why I love you so Couldn't tell you though I tried do Just why I'm yours

Resting her head against the top of the fallboard, Clarke’s hands stilled and her eyes closed, and in her mind she could see Lexa beside her, playing quietly, never looking up from her hands as the melody unwound itself from the instrument.

When you went away You left a glowing spark Trying to be gay As whistling in the dark I am only what you make me Come take me I'm yours

She remembered it was Halloween and she’d forgotten candy again and the clock had stopped and the rain had stopped but the music was too gentle and comforting and she could hear it clearer now, imagining a warm shoulder against hers, moving.

How happy I would be to beg or borrow For sorrow with you Even though I knew tomorrow You'd say we were through If we drift apart Then I'll be lost and alone Though you use my heart Just for a steppin' stone How can I help dreaming of you I love you I'm yours

The song ended and she felt herself breathless with racked sobs that wouldn’t stop, even as strange, familiar arms held her and rocked her, silently, and clear gray eyes met hers and nothing was real but everything was real and she felt her heart sinking and rising so painfully it might have been shock: the unspoken wish, fulfilled.

“Are you here?”

No sound, only graceful caresses across her cheeks, her temples, through her hair, and those eyes that saw through everything and said everything.

“Are you here?”

Silence again, then something like a smile.

“Do you want me to be?”

Tears were catching on her jaw, dripping into her neck and Clarke felt herself laughing. Maybe she was dying. Maybe this was the end of everything.

She pressed the longed-for face between her hands and the answer frozen the air between them--until their lips deliquesced in yes after yes after yes.

#clexa #clexatober23 #based on Truly Madly Deeply #I'm Yours lyrics by Richard Millen #tbc if anyone wants #ghost stories #clexa fanfic

[knightofmordred]

okay so you know how there is hair symbolism with flint shaving his head after miranda died. idk if im just crazy or something but i think there's something similiar going on with eleanor and max's hair.

very early on in the series, we always see eleanor with her hair up, whether it was in a bun or a plait (mostly in the early seasons it was in a bun). the only times we saw her with her hair down (in those seasons) is when we wouldn't expect her to have her hair up e.g when she spent the night with max, when she was fucking vane and also when she tried to protect max.

i think there's some sort of symbolism with having the way they had their hair up showcased the amount of control they had over nassau. and i think the looser the hair got, the less control they had over the island.

the hair symbolism also lowkey makes sense when she tried to save max. she thought she was in control but she wasn't! max declined being rescued and black listing vane also backfired.

as the series goes on, eleanor's hair starts to be left down and this mainly happens after she was arrested and taken to england. by the end of the show, her hair is still down and the only time it's put back is when she does lil twists in her hair but other than that it's mostly down.

now of course after she was arrested, she basically lost control of the island in the way she had it in the beginning. sure she had rogers ear and was able to advise and control things that way but she was never fully in charge/control.

with max, it's a similiar story but in the opposite way. in the early seasons, we mostly see her hair down, albeit sometimes pinned back in twist, but basically in the same way eleanor had her hair in s3-4. she very rarely had it pinned up.

from what i can remember, her hair is only really put up after eleanor returns to the island and she starts to help rogers - establishing more control over the island. until of course the finale where she actually is in control.

there was also the scene where eleanor was supposed to have left to ask her grandparents for help and berringer's men storm her room because he wants to see her. when the men enter her room, her hair is down and she's in bed, but when she goes down to meet berringer, her hair is pinned up. which again it sort of establishes some sort of control. she knew berringer wanted her out and i suppose it was also a subtly way to say 'look im in control, im stronger than you think i am'

i can't remember what it was that i read or watched, but what got me thinking about this was the fact women who usually had their hair down were seen as out of control and uncivilised. having your hair tied up (or tied in general) established authority. you were seen as more put together. at time, loose hair could also symbolise prostitution which when max gained more control and had her hair up showed that she was no longer working that way.

i found a couple of contrast images to show the difference between their hair changes and where eleanor and max both stood which are so !!!!!

there's so much eleanormax symbolism anyway, and it's very clear they had changed places or at least max was becoming more like eleanor as the seasons went on but man this hair things takes it to a whole other level.

#idk if any of this makes sense but i hope ppl can see my vision !! #black sails #eleanor guthrie #hannah new #jessica parker kennedy #eleanormax #black sails fandom #captain flint #john silver

[amazingnot]

- 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Summary: You have to choose.

Tw: language, grammar, demons, toxic relationships, yandere, repetition of words, not proofread, gore, blood, appius decapitated someone in front of you, very gorey stuff, appius is a demon emperor so yeah, puking.

You sigh, it exactly has been 360 days since you have transmigrated here in hell, Apparently no matter how many times you run away or in your case sleep on your troubles, it would never go away. Not when the one causing you problems has you pinned on the bed, Appius smothering you once again with his undivided attention and affection.

"aren't you busy?" You grumble, trying to ignore the black feathers on your face. The feeling of the vanes brushing up against your cheek makes you shudder at the ticklish sensation.

Appius only chuckles at your predicament, his six massive black wings now tuck behind his back. "I am." He answers curtly, his eyes never straying from yours and you can't help but look away when you can see the look of absolute adoration and lovesickness in those unique gray eyes of his.

"why are you looking away? I thought you like my eyes?" Appius says, his lips jutting to a pout. His fingers gently holding your chin to turn your head to face him once again, his eyes scanning for anything that might have set you off, he was meticulous in every way.

"nothing, then why are you here if you're busy?" You ask, trying to find it in yourself to look into his eyes that seem too intoxicating, too caging that you feel suffocated yourself. Appius huffs, "Do you not want me here, love?"

Yeah, "no, it's not like that. Just worried for your assistant or something," you wince as you remember Appius' assistant, he was a demon you don't know his ranking but he looks haggard as fuck. Like death came knocking on his door, his hair was messy and tousled, his eyes sunken paired with deep eye bags, and he looked pale and if he hadn't moved you would assume him as a corpse.

"why would you worry for a measly assistant?" Appius frowns, his voice shifts an octave lower. "Shouldn't you be paying attention to me instead of worrying for some lower demon?" Appius grumbles.

"because he looks like a walking corpse."

"corpse? Are you asking me to get rid of him for you, baby?"

You immediately shake your head, "No! Absolutely not." You wouldn't want a repeat of what happened, the first few weeks of your stay here in hell. You had underestimated Appius too much.

You put too much trust in the bot you had created, put too much trust in the long character description you had typed out. It didn't end well.

The late assistant was a kind demon, you would always spot her in the distance following right behind Appius, holding multiple copies of documents while the emperor would just walk straight, his head high up.

She was endearing and compassionate, sometimes sneaking you snacks from the human world or getting you out of your stuffy luxurious room and letting you play around with the unique and special flora hell can offer.

She had also offered her assistance in helping you escape and you gladly accepted her offer. Though, when the day finally came you didn't expect to get betrayed by the demon you thought was kind.

You watch from the floor, your body too weak to escape. The demoness kneels in front of Appius a devious smirk on her face and it finally hits you. Ah, she wasn't here to help you.

You wanted to shout at her, yell at her and tell her that this wasn't very girl boss of her, tell her that women shouldn't be pulling each other down but should be helping each other out. Yet you can't, you stare with wide eyes as Appius grabs the demoness by the neck, pulling her up so that they are face to face.

The woman's legs kicked and struggled as she grasped Appius' wrist, her sharp nails clawing at the skin yet it made no mark or dent. The power difference between the two is obvious.

"baby, do you know what I do with traitors?" You raise a brow, a shaky breath leaving you. Traitor? But the demoness betrayed you to tell on Appius, how was she the traitor?

Seeing your confused expression, Appius let out a chuckle. His shoes made noise as they made contact with the quartz floor of the palace, he walked closer to your figure on the floor. His handsome face is uncharacteristically cold as he turns to face the demoness.

"she's part of the rebellion, I was gonna deal with her quietly but she set her eyes on you," Appius scoffs, tightening his grip on the demoness' neck. "And I can't exactly let that go quietly, can I?" He tilts his head to the side as if asking for your opinion.

"ah—" you utter not knowing how to respond, "cute, even now you make my heart flutter like crazy, love." Appius chuckles, his face turning soft. "Though we have to talk later about your... Little attempt at escaping me but for now we have to deal with this pest don't you think?"

Appius made the move of digging his claws inside of the demoness' throat, you flinch and turn to the side and you can hear the sound of blood dripping down to the tiles and the sound of flesh tearing apart. Appius hums, standing before you. "Don't close your eyes, love. It's very important to keep your eyes open right now, this is how an emperor deals with demons like this."

You shiver at the coldness of his voice, you shake your head. No, you can't. You've been traumatized enough by your family you don't want to add another one to the list.

"open them baby or do you want a punishment later?" You tremble and you slowly flutter your eyes open, you see the demoness still struggling for breath. Appius claws digging onto her neck and you wonder how she was still alive.

"resilient isn't she? But that makes it the more fun," Appius' other hand crawls up to touch the demoness' eyes, his fingers stop and you try to not let out a scream as Appius dug his claws, grabbing the squishy organs and pulling them out slowly. The demoness now screaming, her voice high pitch and you lower your head and cover your ears shutting your eyes close.

"this is for daring to even look at what is mine," Appius turns to look at your shivering figure, he continues. "Open them, baby."

You tremble, biting your lips as you try to keep your eyes open. Appius throws the eyeballs away, it softly lands far away from where you sat on the floor. Next, Appius' bloody hand creeps down the demoness' mouth, his fingers forcing their way inside as he holds the tongue in his fingers.

"disgusting, you dare speak to them with a mouth soiled like this?" Appius cuts the pinkish organ off so disgustingly slow, the blood spurting and staining his emperor robes and his face yet he didn't seem to mind the ichor.

You flinch your eyes shaking with every word and cut Appius makes, "s-stop," Appius sighs. "Baby, just a bit more okay? Just keep watching, it'll end soon." His voice is soft as he coos like he is comforting a scared child. You only tremble and feel the vile creeping up your throat.

Appius stares at you, turning his gaze back onto the demoness. His hand now gripping her head tightly pulling it to the side and decapitating the head from the body. Blood gushes out like a waterfall, the sticky iron liquid staining the white quartz floor, some drip down to your hair, and your eyes can only widen in horror, your mouth agape yet no sound leaves you.

You abruptly turn to the side, you can't bear to look at it much further. You feel the vile creeping up your throat and you can't stop it anymore as you puke your guts out, you shake yet you can't bring it in you to make a sound. Now you know why Appius has been ruling hell for thousands of years already, he wasn't just a bot you created, he was living.

"remember there is no salvation in hell only damnation," Appius says softly, crouching down in front of you. His hands are stained bloody red yet he doesn't seem to care as he holds your face, the ichor smearing on your cheeks. He pulls you close and gives you a sweet kiss, he tilts his head to the side, his teeth lightly nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away.

"as I thought, you look better in red, darling."

Previous part.

#amazingnot #character ai #fanfic #fanfiction #oc #original character #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #gender neautral reader #- 𝐁𝐎𝐓 𝟎𝟎𝟏 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐔𝐒 #- 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈

[summerlovingbaby]

Accidents Happen P2

 A small quiet knock fell on the door, disrupting Aizawa, who had busied himself for the night. His glasses balancing on the tip of his nose, and his hair thrown into a messy bun that was hanging on by a hair tie and half a hair.

He glanced up to the door, where a shy and pitiful Y/N waited at the door, All the confidence she had dissipated as soon as she saw him, and waves of embarrassment washed over her body and she suddenly, and she suddenly remembered she had every reason to be ashamed, and no reason to hold her head so high and to be proud.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, she slightly shook her head no, so slight that even Aizawa didn’t catch it. “Is there a reason that you’re not in bed?” he asked. “You said you were going to bed early.”

“I’ve had an accident.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that.” he said sweetly, shutting his laptop and turning to face her.

“I’ve had a accident.” She repeated. “I wet the bed.”

 She still hadn’t looked at him, if she did she would have saw the faint smile that brushed across his features and how his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Not out of disappointment, but out of hope. He was pleased that she had an accident, but pleased that she felt safe enough to come to him for help, and a small part of him wanted to jump for joy because she came to him for help. 

“Oh well, that’s okay.” he said, standing up slowly. “We will get you all cleaned up, and I will change your sheets.”

“ I’m sorry-”

“ There’s no need to be sorry honey, this is nothing a fresh pair of pajamas and a shower can’t fix.” he walked over to her patted the top of her head, hoping that it would put her on ease. “ I mean it, it’s no big deal.”

“ I’m really sorry, I can clean it up myself it’s just-” she tried to speak, but she was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge to cry.

“ It’s okay, I really don’t mind.” he knelt down so he could be on her level, squatting awkwardly, at his knees. 

Y/N didn’t look up from his black house shoes, with grey fuzzy lining. Upon closer inspection he was wearing cat socks, that would have seemed obnioxus but he wore them so much that the colors had faded, and the blues looked grey.

She tried to argue further, but Aizawa wouldn’t have any of that and instead ushered her down the hallway and into the spare closet, where he kept old clothes that shrunk in the wash, but Shinso wasn’t quite big enough for. He handed her plaid pajama bottoms and a t shirt with a bright yellow cat vane on it. It had been washed so many times the cat had half a face, and the only thing left of the tail was a forgotten imprint.

She followed him where he led her to the bathroom door and pushed it open. He watched her hesitate walking in the bathroom, the way her eyes glazed over at the thought of stepping on the cold tile. Her hand started to shiver when she reached for the doorknob, and that made his heart shatter into a million peices and fall all over the floor.

“ Hey Y/N, can I show you something?” he gently pushed her into the bathroom, wincing at the whimper that she made. He showed her the doorknob and fiddled with the locking mechanism. “ You see this?” he asked, squatting down to her level, to make sure that she saw it.

“ Yeah.” she whispered. “Yeah I see it.”

“ This is called a lock, you know what that is?” 

She violently shook her head before whimpering again.

“ That’s okay, it’s okay, I can just  explain it to you, yeah? You’re not in trouble.” his voice was sweet like a cherry pie, and warm like tea with a whole bunch of sugar.

Despite the fact that he was talle than her by at least a foot and a half, and had about 80 lbs on her, she had felt as safe as she ever had in a while. Same way she felt with Hitoshi. He was a safe person, or at least she though he was. but she shouldn’t trust her judgement. At least not recently, she thought she was past these “little accidents.” She had been through so much, but still wetting the bed like she was a child.

“ So if you twist this thing right here.” he says, twisting the locking mechanism.” It locks the door.” He grabs the door handle ant twists it. “ That basically means that nobody can open the door, unless you unlock it, and you don’t have to unless you want to. Do you understand?”

“ I think so.” she whispered.

“ Why don’t you try it for me? he asks gently.

She fiddled with the lock unlocking and locking it a few times, before looking up at Aizaw searching his face for approval, he nodded and smiled at her, before patting her on the back. 

“ Good job. So when you lock that door, it means your safe, and that means nobody can get inside.” he nods. “ So I’m going to let you shower, you can come find me whenever you’re done. Take as long as you need.”

She nodded sligtly before shutting the door behind her. Aizawa waited by the door waiting to hear the click, once he did he set to work. He went to his office and shut down his computer for the rest of the night, then he walk to his sons bedroom, and knocked on the door so quiet that it sounded like awhisper.

He heard a grunt, and he let himself it surprised at the fact that the door was unlocked. He stopped locking the door, and Aizawa bit back a gleeful smile. He tip toed into the room and gently shook Hitoshi awake.

“ Dad.” he whispered, voice groggy with sleep. He was still waking up so he wasn’t able to sensor himself, and he was too tired to even realize he said it. “Is there a reason you woke me up?”

“ Y/N’s in the bathroom taking a shower, I showed her how to lock a door, but if you have to pee, go to the one downstairs.”

“ Did she have another accident?” he asked. Another fruedian slip that he did catch, he sat straight up with wide eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. “ You can’t tell her I told you that.”

“ I won’t. You stopped locking your door?” 

“ I don’t feel the need to anymore.” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“ Go back to bed kid.” he said ruffling Hiitoshis already messy purple hair, and pushung him back down.

“ You’re the one who woke me up.” he laughed. Aizawa had already made it to the door, when Hitoshi asked one final question. “ Do you need any help? With cleaning?”

“ No, I got it, but thankyou for offering.” he said. “ You’re a good kid, Hitoshi.” he spoke.

“ So I’ve heard.” he spoke, he flopped back on the bed like a fish on dry land, shutting his eyes and turning his brain to turn off. “ Leave the door open.” he called after her.

This was a smile that he couldn’t hide, and made no effort to. He didn’t care if the world saw the wide grin that he was holding, because his son just. asked him to leave the door open.

He made his way to the spare bedroom where Y/N was sleeping, with fresh sheets and a bottle of water for her nightstand, suspecting that she stopped drinking water in effort to stop her from having to use the bathroom.

He took off the damp bed sheets and left them in a pile on the floor and replaced the waterproof matress cover. Not before spraying down the matress with lysol spray, he went through the motions that felt all to familiar, and he hated the fact that he had to do this again. He never wanted to do this again, but he would, if it made her feel safe.

So young, and already been through so much. So young and already hit with the worst of the humankind had to offer. She was really a great kid, anyone who cared to show her the slightest bit of kindness would know that. Alot like Hitoshi who was loveable in the effortless way.

He had to do that alot with Hitoshi in the beginning, he often let go of his bladder in the middle of the night because the horrors of his past haunted his dreams. He too woke Aizawa in the middle of the night, using a pillow to cover his crotch, and Aizawa changed his sheets. He would do it 1,000 more times for the both of them.

He had just finished replacing the pillows when she walked in the room, holding a pile of dirty clothes and used towels, wearing the pajamas that Aizawa gave her. The shirt fell to her knees and the pants pooled at her ankles because she was lacking in the height department, she hardly made any noise and the only reason Aizawa heard her was because she said something.

“ I didn’t know where to put the dirty things.”

“ You can drop em’ on the floor, I’ll get them on the way out.”

She dropped them on the floor, and tip toed over to the bed. Aizawa went through the nightstand and pulled out a pair of old wool socks and put them on. He motioned for her to grab them and she did.

“ It gets cold.”

She nodded quietly, looking at the fresh sheets and made bed. She really didn’t want to ruin all the effort just because she couldn’t hold her bladder.

“ Thank you.” she whispered. “ For everything.”

“ Thank you for coming to me, I really appreciate it.” he offered. “ I noticed you didn’t drink all of today. Was that because you thought if you didn’t drink anything, you wouldn’t have any accidents?”

Y/N meekly nodded and sat down on the bed, and smoothed out the oversized pajamas on her leg.

“ The only thing that’s gonna get you is mildly dehydrated.” he laughed slightly. “ How was your shower?”

“Warm.”

“ Do you feel clean?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad that you’re shower was warm. Hitoshi uses up alot of hot water.” He had a very sweet laugh, sweet like sugar that melted on snow. A laugh that can light up an entire room and make grandma’s blush.

“ Can I sit?” he offered. She nodded, still not looking up. He sat down next to her, the bed squeaking as he eased onto the bedframe. “ When I was your age, something reaally bad happened to me, and I started wetting the bed. I was really embarrased too.”

“Were they because of nightmares?”

“ No.” he spoke plainly, as if he were talking to a wall. “ Sometime’s I would just wake up in a puddle of my own pee.I was really embarrased about it. I felt like a baby. My parents were really understanding about it though, whenever it happened they were really helpful. It helped to talk to someone about it.”

“ When did it stop?” she asked, the thought that had been bouncing around her skull. What she wanted to ask Hitoshi, and what she asked him.

“ After a few months, I ummm... I don’t know why, it just stopped. I tried to not drink any water, I ended up in the hospital because of mild dehydration. I tried to stay up all night, and I ended up passing out at the breakfast tables, my parnets were not amused about that.” he chuckled. “ I don’t remeber much about that time in my life, but I just remeber feeling very-”

“Embarassed.”

“ Yeah. Whenever me and Mic moved in together  I was afraid it would start happening again, so I would wait until he fell asleep and slept on the couch.”

“ Did he find out?”

“ Yup, he told me he didn’t care about my “issues”, and I started sleeping in the same bed. It happened, and he was nice about it, but I was still embarrassed. I know this is me calling the kettle black, but he told me I shouldn’t be embarrassed. He was right.”

“I feel embarrased.” her eyes welled with tears.

“ I get it.”

“ I feel like a baby, I mean Eri never wet the bed not once. I just-”

“ It’s not uncommon for kids who have been through something tramatic for them to start wetting the bed.”

“ I hate it. I hate it. I-”

“ I know,  I know.” he tried to comfort her, but she delved face first into hysterics.”

“ I the way I feel, I feel so gross. I’m disgusting-”

“ You’re not disgusting, it’s not gross. It’s just a bodily function that’s all-”

“ I’m a digsusting person-”

“ You took shower, we’ve changed your sheets. And I know that can’t help with everything, but you are clean. You’re not disgusting, I promise-”

“ I just... I feel so pathetic. Everybody has been putting so much effort into fixing me, and I... I still wet my pants like I’m some kid. I don’t even have nightmares I just wake up in a puddle of my own piss.”

“ I get it.”

“ I try so hard to hold it in, but then I just can’t, and I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“ I wish I had nightmare’s. I wish I had them so I could have some sort of reason to be doing this-”she was digging a hole that she wouldn’t be able to get out of. 

“ It’s okay. I promise. I’m not mad at you, I won’t punish you.” he whispered. “You’re not in trouble.”

“ I’m tired.” she confessed. “ I’m so tired.”

“ Then sleep. You’re safe here I promise.”

“What happens if I have a accident?” she meekly ask.

“ Then we’ll clean it up, and you can go back to sleep.” he smiled. “ I’ll see you in the morning. I’m taking Hitoshi to the mocies if you want to come.”

And with that's he stood up, he flattened out the spot that he had been sitting at and started towards the door. Y/N letting her  body go limp on the bed, her mind ebbed and flowed until it fell onto one thought.

“ I know this door has a lock-”

“ Feel free to lock it if you feel the need-”

“ Do I have to?” she asked.

“ No.” Aizawa asked “ No you don’t.”

Aizawa didn’t fight back the smile, he just picked up the dirty clothes from the floor, and closed the door behind him.

taglist    

@kiribakuslilpebble @un-limit-edd @ultrahugakitten  @ jmook423 @ anonymousbabygirl13-blog   @ power-house-fan12                                  @imunderurbed   @fandomfreak1000000   @dylan-kai2008 @cheesecakeva  @lovemegood  @madsttx @whatdidshesayyy

@ great-goddess-of-sin @bitchyzombienacho  @polpoe

@lovemegood  @eijiandkatspebble  @luna670  @nealearts @bittersw33t-lotus  @therapy-arts-blog   @thenerdygirl111  @sil-ver-shadow   @chscklvr

@itshemlock  @5sos-wdw  @stupidfool69  @esposadomd

#mha #mha angst #mha x reader #mha fanart #mha x reader angst #mha spoilers #mha x listener #bhna #bhna fluff #bhna angst #mha hitoshi #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinsō #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x child reader

[vangh17a]

How do you go about formatting your comics? I’ve always wanted to make a comic but formatting it has always been a struggle..

Also don’t forget to drink water and care for urself

Drink has been acquired! Grab yourself one too, it's "Vane might ramble too much" hours!

Keep in mind that my formatting is what works for me, so it might not work for everyone. I also use Clip Studio Paint (EX), so some bits might work for other programs, while some might not. I also can't for the life of me remember the difference between CSP Debut, Pro, or EX so I'm sorry if I mention features you might not have.

I'm gonna cut the post here, so it doesn't take up too much space on the dash :D

Alrighty! I'm not completely sure what you mean by format, so I'll just do a quick rundown of my process!

Script

I usually start with a script. It can be as loose or detailed as you want it to be, but mine usually are something like this:

Character A: "Says a word!" Description of scene or action

Character A: "Says more words!" Character B: "And more words are said"

I use gaps in the text to signify a panel break. So this would be two panels! Keep in mind your workload, and don't put in too many if you're not ready for it.

Sketch

After I finalize, or at least have a general understanding of my script, I get a canvas around the size that I think it'll be. I usually start out with about 1800x8000, but you can adjust it based on your needs.

I like to try and sketch out a rough idea of how I want the comic to flow. Using my script, I sketch out the panels and toss in where I think the text bubbles will go. Here's the latest Wanderer update as an example! (Yes I usually use the first draft sketches for the final product, don't worry about it lmao)

I do a sketch of the entire thing, which helps me resize as I need.

Panels

The panels were always the hardest part for me to figure out before I started working on Wanderer. Again, this is what works for me. It might not work for everyone, and this is also just how I set up this specific comic.

Let's get some boxes going. Go to the Frame Border option, and select rectangle frame.

It needs to be on create frame!

Click and drag one giant box over your sketch. I'm using an excerpt from the above sketch for example! You can click the frame layer itself, hold ctrl down and adjust the width of the box.

Delete this layer:

and move your sketch above the frame layer so you can see it!

Now we just split the panels up how you want them. Next to where you found the Create Frame option earlier, there should be a Cut Frame option. I personally use Divide Frame Folder, so everything is contained without bleeding through to other panels.

You can mess with these:

The "gutter" is just how much space is made between panels.

When making your panel splits, you can hold ctrl to snap to a 45° angle.

It might end up looking messy to the side, but each new frame folder will be like a new mini canvas for each panel. I find that color coding the layers helps me find which ones I need if I start getting too many.

Here's a look at what it might look like based on what I've done for just this example.

And if we go to the actual file for the upload...

It keeps everything nice and organized, imo!

Okay, I thiiink that about covers it. Text boxes/bubbles and the such are easier to find tutorials for, so I'm not gonna cover those unless people specifically want those. But I'm more than willing to divulge... most... of my secrets haha.

As always if I need to clarify anything, just ask and I'll do my best to clear it up! Best of luck on your comic making adventures!

#mailbox #tutorial #I hope it's easy to understand! #And thank you for the ask!

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Hiiiiii! Okay so, a while back I was innocently rewatching Bridgerton and had a two second thought of Lewis Nixon in the Bridgerton universe and it just progressed from there!

So here it is: To Have and To Hold

This a collab with the wonderful @malarkgirlypop! She has been such a great help planning this story and I couldn’t have done it without her, so thank you Kate 💕

As always; based on the actors portrayal and written with the utmost respect for the veterans.

Tags: @malarkgirlypop @footprintsinthesxnd @ronald-speirs @iceman-kazansky @liptonsbabe

To Have and To Hold

Chapter one: Bound

Walking down the aisle is the happiest moment of any young lady's life. Passing by friends and family on your way to your soon to be husband. The anticipation of building a new life with someone you love and creating your own family together are both exciting prospects that would have typical women swooning. 

Annette Vane was no typical woman. 

Linked arm in arm with her father as he all but tugged her along, Annette found herself wondering how she got here….

—----------------(flashback)---------------------

“Married?!” 

“Do not shriek, it is unbecoming for a lady.”

“You cannot be serious! Mama!” She looked at her father in shock, “Papa! Tell her!” Annette was on the edge of begging. She had met the man just once! And now they were to be married? All she knew of him was his name, that he came from a wealthy family and his reputation was less than perfect, although for a man, that was common and expected.

“It is an advantageous match.” Her father spoke, he would say no more. 

“And it is final.”  Her mother added, “We will start planning right away-“ But Annette cut off the matriarch with a completely unladylike sound. 

“Ugh you never listen!” She scoffed and yelled, rolling her eyes and flapping her arms about as dramatically as she could muster, “ I don’t want to marry him! He’s probably awful an-“

“Enough!” Her mother roared, silencing her child. “You will not speak of your future husband that way. Take leave to your room.”

Annette watched as her father rubbed his temples, he was at his wits end. She knew she needed to listen to him now, if she pushed any further tonight, he might explode. So she spun on her heels, letting her hair swish as she strutted out of the room…..

—-------------------(end flashback)--------------------

Before Annette could really take in her surroundings, her father took her hands in his, the warmth broke her from the unfavourable memory. He placed her hands in the grooms; the man waiting for her at the altar whom she had only met once before now and very briefly. 

And now, here she stood; at the altar with a complete stranger, preparing to say ‘I do.’ Looking into his brown eyes, Annette let out a sigh. Her father sent her a warning look that only she could see and it kept her from protesting any more, stifling her moody temper. 

Annette was aware of the many eyes watching her, she knew her parents were inspecting her every move and so would her soon to be inlaws; The Nixon’s, along with multitudes of highborns of the Ton, Lord almighty; even the Queen herself had a front row seat, surrounded by her usual entourage. 

Their union was deemed one of the most noteworthy engagements of the season, nobody saw it coming, not with his reputation. Many speculated that the two fell madly in love within an instant, it didn't help that their first meeting was so public, at the first ball of the season. 

Annette had not known then that they were to be married but maybe he had? Is that why he had asked her to dance? She would have to ask him at some point. 

The minister droned on about the holy union and how important God is in a successful marriage. So, Annette took the opportunity to let her mind wander, remembering the only time she met the man standing in front of her apart from today; their wedding day…..

—-------------------(flashback)---------------------------

“Who is that?” Annette found herself wondering out loud. Like everyone else in the room, her eyes followed the man who entered, strutting around with his head high and chest puffed. He had a certain air about him, he was someone important and he knew it. 

“That, is Lord Lewis Nixon.” Eliza answered, her attention was also captured by the dark haired Lord, “I heard my Mama talking; he is searching for a wife this season.”

“He is to marry?” Annette’s disinterest in the gossip of the Ton was showing, every other being in the room knew his name, title and intentions. All except her. 

“Mmm, a great surprise…given his reputation.” Eliza sipped her drink casually.

“His reputation?” Annette was intrigued, she had not heard of this handsome Lord, nor his reputation. 

Her eyes looked over him, up and down until his gaze turned to her. For a moment neither looked away, the Lord Nixon sent her a smile which broke her from her blatant starting and made the young lady turn and blush, tuning in to what her friend was saying about him.

“Oh surely you have heard?” The brunette gasped, “He’s a rake. And a drunk.” Eliza lowered her voice, making sure none around the two heard the outward gossiping.  

“Such scandal. Any woman who even thought to marry him would be a fool. Once a rake, always a rake.” Suddenly disinterested in the man, Annette would have shrugged had she not felt her mothers gaze on her. 

“You are sounding an awful lot like your mother, Annie.” Liza spoke, Annette gave her friend a pointed look, rolling her eyes which would thoroughly irk her dear Mama had she seen it. 

“I think it would be romantic. Having him change his ways all for you…for love… plus he’d be very experienced.” A sly smile crept onto Eliza’s face, her implication sending the two young women into giggle fits unbecoming of ladies.  

“Annette!” Her mothers distinctive whisper-yell gained her attention and made her stand up straighter, ceasing her unlady-like laughter. Annette sent her friend an apologetic look before gliding over to her mother anticipating a reprimand. 

“Ah, there you are, darling.” Darling? That was new. Her mother almost never called her pet names, only Annette or daughter. 

“Mother.” Annette acknowledged politely, she noted the small circle of people surrounding her parent and decided it was best to put on a perfect display so as to not embarrass the matriarch of her family. 

“This is my beloved daughter; Annette. Annette, this is the Viscountess Maire Nixon.” Her mother introduced her and she curtsied to the superior woman.

“Ah! She is just as beautiful as you say.” The Viscountess told her mother, completely ignoring Annette as she stood, patiently waiting as the Viscountess studied her. The two older women seemed to share a look of mischief but Annette didn’t pay any attention, her eye had been caught once again by the handsome rake.

Once again, he set her a smile and this time, instead of blushing like a school girl she looked up to the ceiling and turned away from him, unimpressed.   

“My Lady?” A deep voice sounded from behind her. She had never heard Lord Lewis Nixon speak but somehow she knew it was him.

Annette thought about ignoring him, pretending she hadn’t heard him and leaving the area, but she knew her mother and the Viscountess were watching her and how the interaction would unfold. So, Annette turned to face him. 

“My Lord.” She spoke, not unkindly but neither inviting, and bowed as was customary. This Nixon held out his hand to her and out of habit she placed hers in his, allowing him to bend and kiss the back of her hand gently. The young lady tried to keep her face void of any emotion, even though she wanted to smile. When Lord Lewis’s lips connected to her hand, he looked up at her to gauge her reaction and Annette couldn't keep her cheeks from tinting pink. 

“Lord Lewis Nixon, at your service, My Lady.” He straightened his stance and tilted his head towards her respectfully. She curtsied in return and offered her name, all the while trying not to fall for his charm; which was getting increasingly more difficult.......

—------(end flashback)-------------

Her to-be-husband squeezed her hands and the room came back to her. Annette felt her surroundings fade in as the memory fizzled away. Her eyes found Lewis Nixon’s and it took her a moment to realise he was waiting for something. Waiting for her. 

She hadn’t been listening, what was she supposed to say? 

“Do you?” The groom whispered to her, hardly loud enough for her to hear but she did and it prompted her with her line: I do. She was agreeing to take this man as her husband. Did she? Did she want that? Want him? 

“I do.”

A/N: Let me know what you think, I love hearing from y’all! Hope you enjoyed

~ Nex ~

#lewis nixon #band of brothers #hbo war #bridgerton au #b-o-b/Bridgerton #collab #fem oc #oc/Nixon #band of brothers fanfic

[oliviassunrise]

Hi Kayli hope you're enjoying this evening ❤️

For the ask game: falling asleep on the other’s shoulder for Tess/Joel pretty pls?

Hi, Vane!!! And I am now that it’s Friday.

Hope you enjoy this because let myself indulge a little.

Touches Ask Game

…

They leave Jackson at dawn, Ellie in tow. The mountains are full of game right now, and their young protege has a lot to learn about wielding a bow.

And to tell the truth, they can all use the time away.

While neither of them will complain about three square meals and a solid roof, the town can be daunting. Trying to be “part of something” and observe the little graces isn’t something either of them is used to. So, Joel uses this as an excuse to turn this into a fun excursion.

A fun excursion that includes the guitar he’d secured on a raid several months ago.

They set up camp on a ridge, confident no one on the outside will come looking for them. After lighting a fire and roasting the rabbit Ellie managed to score on their way up the mountain, Joel allows himself to get comfortable.

He leans against a log, strumming at the guitar, and ignores the strange looks Ellie gives him. Until he starts playing the chords to one of the songs she knows from her Walkman.

Tess grins, sidling up next to him. He’s never heard her sing before, but it’s a sound he could die listening to as they both remember the lyrics.

Eventually, Ellie joins in, and before he knows it, she’s requesting another.

For a solid half an hour, he plays. And they laugh. By the end, he’s slowing down, and he finds himself crooning along. Ellie’s cuddled up in her blanket, and she looks like she’s fading. And Tess?

Tess is asleep. And her head is on his shoulder.

“Conked out,” Ellie whispers when he finishes his song.

Joel chuckles softly. “Long day,” he reiterates.

“She almost fucked with that bear,” the fourteen-year-old marvels. “Stopping herself took all that energy, I bet.”

“Or chasing after you when you wanted to pet the raccoon.”

“Hey, it was friendly. It would have eaten out of the palm of my hand.”

“It would have given you rabies.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

Joel stares down at the woman sleeping on him, listens to the steady rhythm of her breathing. “And she could probably survive a bear. Doesn’t mean she should fuck around and find out.”

“Don’t get all righteous with me.”

He flicks a leaf at the kid. “Then don’t be a vigilante little shit.”

She laughs and pushes herself off the ground. “I’m going to bed.”

Joel watches her go and allows himself a few more moments before he whispers, “Tess?”

“Hmm?”

She gently shakes her shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”

With the kiss he plants on her forehead, she nods, still half asleep, and he soon figures out she’s not about to walk to the tent on her own. So, he scoops her up in his arms and carries her.

They’ve got a big day tomorrow, and she has bears that he’s gotta talk her out of wrestling.

#ask kayli #tessjoel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the tipsy bison #my fic

[blackjackkent]

For only the second time that I can recall in the game, we now get a cutscene entirely without Hector's presence or input - this time of Gale's conversation with Mystra. We have no control over this; presumably we would if we were playing as Origin Gale, but otherwise we just get to watch.

And here she is, in the godly flesh:

"Gale of Waterdeep. You look well."

"As do you. But I assume we're not here solely to exchange compliments. So why *am* I here?"

"You discovered what lies at the Heart of the Absolute - the Crown of Karsus - and you disobeyed my instruction. Why?"

"Because you had no right to ask that of me. You cast me out, remember?"

Atta boy, Gale.

"You were my lover, my Chosen. Yet still you know so little of me. The past cannot be undone with self-pity, nor can a future be forged. Only with the truth will you see the way ahead. The fragment of magic you tried to return to me was not of my creation. It was the Karsite Weave. It is a corrupted, half-born magic wrought in the brief moment Karsus ascended to godhood. It hungers for power just as he did, and it can *never* be sated. You unleashed something that would consume all magic in existence, and yet you thought only of preserving yourself."

Aha. Interesting. So Gale's mistake went beyond simple hubris of trying to reach Mystra's level; the orb straight up wasn't what he thought it was at all, and it's massively dangerous. Not really surprising, I guess.

(On a more prosaic note, I am not really a fan of Mystra's design here at all. The goddess of all magic feels like she should be something far more elaborate, but she just kind of looks like a barbie doll in a Lisa Frank light show. I think they could have done something more interesting with this. Honestly would have rather just had her be a voice thundering from nowhere.)

"So that's what you're scared of. With the Crown of Karsus reforged, I could take control of the Karsite Weave."

"You can no more control the Karsite Weave than a weather vane could control a storm. That it entered your body and consumed no more than your powers was a miracle. But we will not be granted another. The only reason the 'orb' sleeps is because I have allowed it to feed on the true Weave - a temporary measure, but one that will not be enough to save us. With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids. If you will not use the orb to end this abomination, then you must find a way to separate Crown and host. When you've done this, you must surrender the Crown of Karsus to me."

"A great ask indeed. You've given me much to think on - as you always did."

(I suspect this line would probably be different if Hector hadn't advised him to keep his cards close to the chest.)

"So be it. Follow the needle of your own wisdom. We shall see how truly it leads you."

------

Gale flashes back into being in the middle of the Tabernacle next to Hector after what seems only a few seconds of absence. But it's obvious that something has happened, as Hector can tell from the way his eyes are wide, from the rapidity of his breathing.

"Back on mortal soil once more," he gasps out. A strained smile is pulling at his lips. "I can't believe I saw her, after all this time..."

Hector reaches out a hand to his friend's shoulder, steadying him. "How do you feel now you've done it?" he asks gently.

"Relieved. Drained. Proud of myself, for summoning the courage to go to her in the first place. And, if I'm being totally honest - a bit lightheaded." His smile fades. "As if it wasn't enough to have seen her again, she didn't exactly summon me there for small talk. The Karsite Weave, within me this whole time... I knew the orb was no ordinary ball of magic, but for it to be Karsus's malignant creation-- gods!" He slams his fist into his opposite palm in irritation. "How did I not see that?"

"It's all too easy to miss things when we're blinded by desire," Hector says, as delicately as possible.

"True enough. There's a reason such unwitting heroes have been the backbone of lyric and legend for as long as both have existed," Gale says ruefully. "Even so - I was hardly some naive apprentice at the time. I considered myself an archmage, and yet was fool enough to b mistaken for a common conjurer."

He lets out a heavy, bitter sigh, then straightens with an air of new determination. "At least now I'm armed with the truth, and Mystra's expectations. It sounds like the door to redemption is open at last. All I have to do is walk through it, carrying the Crown of Karsus."

Hector shifts uneasily. Are those the only two options, then? For Gale to take the Crown's power for himself or run back to chasing after Mystra's good opinion? Surely there is some middle ground... "Is that what you want?" he asks slowly.

"Perhaps," Gale says, not quite meeting his eyes. "I see few other options open to me, if I ever want to reclaim those parts of myself the orb snatched away. If I ever want to be *me* again..."

A sudden wave of compassion for him goes through Hector. Poor blighter, he thinks sadly. The actions of Gale's younger self were foolish, to be sure, and they have caused great potential harm. But Gale has lived with that knowledge for years now; he's been punished greatly for it. And going back to Mystra, however unhealthy that relationship was, means that at least he would be free of that punishment again.

"You're a great man, Gale," he says quietly - and he means it. "With or without the orb."

"I'll have to disagree with you there," Gale says, shaking his head. "Having not one but two parasitic entities within your body does very little for one's faith in one's personality." A pause. Then his expression softens and he smiles a little. "Still. I should take the compliment with the same generosity it was given. So - thank you."

He turns to face Hector squarely, with the air of a man taking a sacred oath. "If i can promise you one thing in return for your faith in me, it's this - I will use everything in my power to ensure we defeat this evil. I will not let you down."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #aw gale <3

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hellooo! I hope she is well. There is no rush for me to write it. You could write about how Marylin/laurel and reader teacher had a relationship but laurel ends her relationship with reader because it interferes with her plan to end all the excluded.And his revenge. And Laurel offers Reader to be her friend and stay normal. Reader doubts because she loves and will always love Laurel, she doesn't understand why she leaves her but she accepts her proposal because she doesn't want to get away from Laurel. She is still in love and hopes that they will return. But she accepts her decision and doesn't insist anymore. Reader is always going to visit Laurel in the greenhouses to just hang out with her, help her with the plants, tell her some gossip about never again or some fact you described or vice versa. And she is also going to visit you in your classroom. It was already routine. Until Laurel receives a call from a normi girl who was in the past.To hang out and remember old times. Laurel seriously thinks about it because it suits her because that's how she forgets the reader, she takes away her sexual frustration, she takes parts of the girl's body. So agree to see her tonight on the weathervane. Hanging. But she remembers that she doesn't have any dress for a date. She thinks back and remembers the black dress with flowers that she lent to the reader.He is going to lose it but on the way he met a reader and takes the opportunity to ask him. Reader says yes, it's laurel. Reader gets curious and asks what it is for. And Laurel replies that it's to see an old friend today at the vane. Reader is confused because he has not met this mysterious friend friend y And some jealousy. She lets it go. Already at night, he needs to clear his mind and goes to Jericho to distract himself. She craves a coffee and walks into the vane and says hello to Tyler (her best friend of his). He is internally grateful not to see the redhead and her mysterious friend. From a distance he sees the redhead approaching. He transforms into some animal or black kitten Before laurel sees her. He asks Tyler for discretion and to keep it hidden. Tyler agrees. Laurel arrives with the black dress with flowers, reader drools because of how perfect she is. And she says she's beautiful out loud (in the form of a howl) Tyler kicks him to keep him quiet. The redhead notices the black cat and it looks familiar. But she ignores him and she waits for her date. Reader is ready to criticize the mystery friend but when Laurel's date walks into the weather vane she finds no fault. She is beautiful, tall, attractive, normal, the same age as Laurel and graceful.Nice to Tyler. Just perfect. Reader feels envy, insecurity and jealousy. Reader sees the girl shamelessly flirt with Laurel and Laurel flirts back. Reader gets sad and sees Tyler (Reader's cat face is very sad) and Tyler feels sorry for her Try to cheer her up. Reader already fed up and on the verge of collapse she wants to go home. Before leaving, he takes one last look at the weathervane and sees the girl kiss Laurel. You can't believe it. Furious, unhinged if she sees the redhead's car and strikes out an automatic. And it goes to never again. He thinks that the "friend" was the reason they broke up and feels insufficient. betrayed. Hurt.

The next day, reader is devastated. She tries to ignore that feeling and she wants to see the redhead, a message arrives for laurel's reader and tells her that she won't be able to see her today because she will be busy.

Somewhere else. Tyler is mad at Laurel for what he did to you. Laurel, already tired and angry about this treatment, asks her what she has and why she insists so much on you. Tyler for his condition as Hyde it gives you away Laurel understands and goes after you. When she goes to pick you up, you make a sarcastic and cruel comment about her not being able to and her date from yesterday. By accident you give yourself away and since you You realize. You panic and Laurel tells you that she already knows. It clarifies everything in the best way

Lots of fluff and heavy smut, please.

Yess!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes

What are you playing?

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem, Teacher! Reader

Warnings: Angst, light smut, manipulative Laurel, Jealous reader….

Word count: 4,847

Summary: She left you and you don’t know why… It seems that she wants to make you suffer…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Marilyn, I really don't get it…” You sobbed.

The redhead didn't look at you, her expression remained serious. You cried, but she didn't, she seemed to not care.

You had been dating her for a month, with your co-worker in Nevermore. Apparently there was nothing that made you think that things were going wrong for you, quite the contrary, your relationship was almost perfect. Until that night, when Marilyn told you that it was over, that she couldn't go on with you. Why? You didn't know. Had you done something wrong? You didn't believe it.

According to her, you were distracting her from the things she had to do. You didn't understand it, you also worked and your classes were not affected at all by your relationship (except for some gossipy comment from your students, of course)

“I don't expect you to understand, (Y/N) Do you think it's easy for me?” Marilyn asked, with a passive, indifferent look.

“It seems that way. You're the one who wants to end everything…” You sighed, trying to control your sobs. Marilyn turned away, as if she was trying to pretend it hurt her.

“It's the best for both of us, (Y/N). This relationship harms us,” she said turning her back on you. You reached out your arms, pretending to strangle her.

“I don't believe it. Could you at least tell me the truth? I find it hard to believe that the same person who had no qualms about fucking in the conservatory is telling me that our relationship is detrimental to us. You're lying to me, I know you are.”

“Think whatever you want, (Y/N). I have no ulterior motives beyond what I have told you,” she said to you, turning around.

She looked a little sadder, but you couldn't help but think that she was faking it.

That sudden desire to end your relationship could not be a coincidence. In your head you gave a thousand turns to find the real reason. Marilyn didn't talk to anyone in Nevemore, in fact, you were her only friend, according to her, of course. There could be no other person, it was impossible. You were devastated, your tears were not only from pain, but also from confusion, from not understanding that aggressive and indifferent attitude of the redhead.

“You’re breaking my heart…” You said, crying more intensely. The redhead approached you and caressed your cheek. Her face said nothing again, expressed nothing.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N). I didn't want this to end like this, but I think it's the best for us…” She whispered to you, while she wiped away your tears. “Please, don't cry, don't make it more difficult for me.”

You shook your head and hugged her tight, crying into her shoulder. She held still at first, but then she hugged you back, with a long, deep breath.

“Don't cry anymore, (Y/N). It's not that serious, we can still be friends...”

You moved away ready to scream, to curse, to hit all the furniture in the room. Of course you couldn't be friends. That was a mockery, an insult to you. Before going crazy, losing your mind, you reflected. You were in love with her, you loved her. You couldn't understand what was going through her head. You couldn't imagine a life without hugging her body at night, without her caresses, without her kisses...

But the love you felt prevented you from walking away, rejecting her proposal. If being friends was the only way to be close to her, it was more than enough for you. You huffed, looking everywhere but not into her eyes, nodding.

“Okay, Marilyn, friends…”

After that fateful night, things changed, although not substantially. Your relationship seemed the same, only there were no kisses, caresses, nights of passion in the corners of Nevermore. Every night you cried, whenever Marilyn stopped by your class you cried when she left. You went to see her in the conservatory, it seemed that nothing had changed.

You constantly thought about her reasons, her motivations. She didn't seem affected, she didn't seem sad. Nothing had happened to her. You were back to where you started. Laughter, long talks and coffee, but no kisses, no “I love you”.

As you walked towards the conservatory you felt how little by little your sanity was disappearing. Nothing had changed in the redhead, you didn't see the good change that she gave you as an excuse. It was all a mess and you didn't know anything, you didn't understand anything. You just had to resign yourself and accept her friendship as a handout, a handout so you wouldn't starve, so that her absence from your bed would be bearable.

“Oh, of course, for the old times,” Marilyn said, speaking on the phone. You entered without making a sound. Marilyn smiled at you.

Curiosity got the better of you. You didn't know who she was talking to, but she was smiling, she was speaking with affectionate words. Your blood began to boil, jealousy began to attack you.

“Perfect, yes, yes, it suits me,” Marilyn continued speaking, while she indicated that you should sit down. “Oh, of course, see you.”

After that she hung up the phone, looking at you with a sigh.

“Who was it?” You asked in the most natural way possible. Marilyn raised her eyebrows and laughed quietly. That was answer enough for you. You had no right to ask, it was no longer your business. That revelation made to you want to run away and bury your head in the pillow to silence your crying.

“A friend,” she said dryly, with that same smug smile. You nodded, trying not to sound jealous. You already knew about "friends" and from your experience it was not good at all. “How were the classes?”

It was obvious that she wanted to change the subject. You didn't know whether to run away or get on your knees to beg her to come back.

“Fine, I guess…” You said almost whispering.

“Great, I think that everything is going better for us now, don't you think?” She said, fixing her eyes on you.

“Especially for you…” You said murmuring. She scowled a little closer.

“What did you say?” She asked.

“Nothing, forget it,” she said, crossing your arms. She surely had heard you, but it was quite evident that she preferred to ignore your words.

“(Y/N), I don't like seeing you with that attitude. You have to learn to get over it,” the redhead told you, taking a sip from her cup of tea.

You got up from the chair. Your heart was pounding and your hands were shaking. You wanted to kill her, you wanted to shake her by her shoulders for that arrogant attitude, so impassive to the pain that became unbearable for you.

“From what I see you have,” you said hissing. She just smiled and came closer to you, putting a hand on your waist.

“Don't be jealous, precious... It's not worth thinking about it... “ She whispered to you, making your hair stand on end. “By the way, (Y/N), I need a favor.”

You calmed down, knowing that if you couldn't be friends with her, you would stop spending time with her. Just thinking about it made you shudder. You swallowed your pride and your breathing gradually relaxed.

“What do you need?” You asked with your head down.

“Do you remember the black dress with flowers that I lent you?” She asked, looking for something among her papers. It was a bleak scene, she didn't even look at your face.

“Yes, of course I remember.”

“I was wondering if you could return it to me. You see, I have… Let's say a date tonight and I think that's the ideal dress, don't you think?”

A date, she had just said a date. It all fell apart in your mind. Tears returned to your eyes as you fought with yourself not to cry out in pain. It seemed like she wanted to make you suffer, was that why she wanted to be your friend? Not even two weeks had passed since your breakup and she was already thinking of another woman. That was the "friend" she was talking to, you were sure.

“Yes, Marilyn, now I bring it to you,” you said, walking towards the door. She just nodded, taking the phone back.

As you walked to your room, the tears were coming out of your eyes again, running down your cheeks. She wasn't just having broken up with you, it seemed like she wanted to humiliate you. You didn't understand why the woman you were in love with made you suffer on purpose. She should know that you were crazy about her, she should know that it could hurt you. You were devastated, you started to think that maybe friendship was not a good idea, that maybe you should start forgetting. She already did.

With trembling hands, you reached for her dress. It smelled of her, it was impossible not to smell her perfume in every corner of your room. You remembered why she lent it to you, it was that night, the first night you slept together, that you loved each other.

You left the room with the garment in your hand. You were depressed, you were in pain, but still I was determined to help her. You could bear not having her with you, but what you would never forgive yourself for was seeing that she wasn't happy, even if she wasn't with you. In addition, visions of that "friend" began to come to your head. You imagined a horrible woman, full of flaws, who surely would have nothing to do with Marilyn, surely she is horrible, surely she is not what Marilyn wants.

You made it back to the conservatory. Marilyn was on the phone again. You did not want to rush, you decided to act in the worst possible way, to spy on her.

“If I tell you that it has to be the right hand, it's the right hand, I'm tired of wasting time... Yes... Yes... I'll let you know when everything is ready. It won't take long, I'm not interested… Perfect, we'll talk later.”

She didn't seem to be talking to the same person. It seemed like a strange conversation to you, right hand? You sighed in relief knowing that it wasn't her “friend”.

“Ahem,” you said, sticking the dress out of the door. Marilyn seemed scared at first, but immediately she returned to her usual tender smile.

“Thank you very much, (Y/N),” she said you, giving you a cruel kiss on the cheek.

“Is it that you don't care about anything?” You asked furiously, unable to bear that indifference. She just widened her smile.

“I care about a lot of things, (Y/N)…” She said, carefully leaving the dress on the chair.

“You don't give a shit about how I feel,” you said, raising her voice.

“And how do you feel?”

“How do you think I feel? It's been barely two weeks since we broke up and now you're a bosom friend, asking me for favors while you date other women. You know perfectly well how I feel about you,” you said, clenching your fists tightly.

“I thought you agreed that we should be friends, (Y/N), if you're not capable of behaving like an adult girl and not like a crying teenager...”

You opened your mouth and eyes in horror. Something had happened to her. She didn't look the same. Marilyn would never talk to you like that. Fed up with scorn and that attitude, you decided to ignore her painful words and flee the conservatory.

You spent the afternoon crying. You didn't want to see anyone. You only thought about those words, about that attitude. There was only one explanation for them. You lived deceived all that time. She didn't love you, she never did. Otherwise it would be impossible to believe that she was saying those things to you. That truth was even worse. You were desperate to understand, but you couldn't.

The room became dark, the day was ending, the sunlight was weak, unlike your crying.

Your destiny was to consume yourself in that room, but it was not what you wanted. The air was heavy, stale. Leave that room was your best option at that time. Perhaps a walk through Jericho would help clear your head and your mind.

When you got to the town, you started looking everywhere. You knew that somewhere there was your enemy, that stupid woman who had a date with Marilyn. The dim lights in the cafeteria made you feel some relief. At least you had a friend, Tyler, the Weathervane waiter. You could always count on him.

As soon as you entered, the boy smiled at you and approached you with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Here, (Y/N), I have prepared it for you,” he told you with a smile. You raised your eyebrows, no one knew you would go to town.

“How did you know I would come?” You asked, seeing the message that was in the cafe "cheer up"

Tyler shrugged and sat down in front of you. There was no one else in the cafeteria.

“Hey I... I'm so sorry...” He told you timidly. Your strange face intensified.

“But Tyler, how do you know? I haven't told you,” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Well, being a waiter gives you access to certain rumors,” he said, without giving it importance. You nodded and took a sip of coffee.

“I don't understand anything, Tyler… We were happy but from one day to the next, poof, Marilyn changes completely and tells me that we can't continue together…” You said, venting a bit.

“But what did she tell you? I don't understand anything either,” the boy told you.

“She says that I interfere in her work, that I distract her from important things. What an asshole,” you said, playing with the coffee spoon.

Tyler looked over your shoulder and seemed to get a little nervous. You frowned and looked in the same direction. Marilyn, it was Marilyn. She was walking towards the cafeteria and she was not alone, an unknown woman accompanied her. It seemed that they were laughing.

It was time for evasive action. You wanted to get out of there, but you couldn't let her see you. On the other hand, you really wanted to start counting all the flaws of that witch. You had no time, you had to think fast. A crazy idea came to your mind.

“Tyler, you shut up,” you said, as you got up and headed to the back room.

“What?”

“Shut up. Wait for me there and act normally,” you said, moving the door of that small room.

You were a shapeshifter. You could transform into any animal. Cats were your favorites. Soon only your clothes were left on the floor and a tabby cat took your place.

You left the room, under Tyler's watchful eye.

“I understand…” He whispered, scratching the back of his neck.

The door bell rang. The redhead and her date entered with a smile. You couldn't help but meow. Marilyn was beautiful in the black flowered dress. Tyler nudged you with his foot to make you cover it up. He knew your ability, luckily Marilyn never saw you in that form.

The target of your watchful gaze was directed at the other woman. You expected someone ugly, horrible, full of flaws. She wasn't like that at all. She was a beautiful woman, with bright blonde hair. She even looked the same age as the redhead. She turned your stomach. Self-esteem was not the greatest of your virtues. You soon saw a clear disadvantage. That woman was perfect, there was no doubt. If Marilyn had to choose, she would choose her.

Tyler turned to the women, taking note of their request. You walked cautiously between the tables, trying to listen to the conversation. You wish you hadn't. The mystery blonde was flirting with Marilyn, there was no question about it. That wasn't the worst. The worst thing was that Marilyn seemed to play along. You tried to get closer, but unfortunately, you caught the blonde's attention.

“Oh, Marilyn, look at this cutie,” she said, looking at you. You stayed still. You knew you could look at her with all the hatred possible, after all, cats were inexpressive. The redhead looked at you curiously, frowning. It was impossible for her to recognize you, but it gave you the impression that she was looking at you in a strange way. Marilyn smiled and ignored you.

"It'll be Tyler's pet, he's a good boy,” she said, looking away. The woman nodded and reached out her hand to caress you.

You couldn't help it. As if it were a reflex action, you stood up all over your fur, hissing aggressively.

“Oh, my God,” the blonde said, backing away scared. Marilyn looked at you again, studying your features carefully.

“Tyler!” The redhead called. The boy looked immediately. “Take your pet, it's scaring Liz.”

Liz, that was the name of your enemy, the enemy you couldn't stand up to. The boy bent down and picked you up. You kept hissing, extending your claws towards the perfect Liz.

Tyler led you into the back room, where your clothes were, and he closed the door.

“What are you doing? You're going to get found out,” he said leaving you on the ground. You didn't do anything to respond, you were just trying to calm down. “Hey, don't hurt yourself anymore, why don't you go back to Nevermore? I promise if anything happens you'll be the first to know.”

You nodded with one last snort. You had nothing to do, you were definitely defeated. With one of your paws, you signaled the boy to turn around so you could transform again.

“Quiet, hands where I can see them,” you said while you picked up your clothes from the floor. Tyler certainly was a good guy, he didn't even make a move to look. When you finished you tapped him on the shoulder to turn him around.

Saying nothing, you hugged him, crying into his shoulder in the most discreet way possible. He rubbed your back.

“You're a good friend, Tyler… I'll come to see you tomorrow,” you said, walking out the back door. The boy nodded and smiled, clearly feeling sorry for you.

The night was cold, a chill ran through your body. As you walked away you turned your head from time to time to look through the cafeteria windows. You would regret it for the rest of your life. Through the glass you could see how close Marilyn and Liz were, very close. They were kissing. A dagger full of sharp points pierced your heart. Now you began to understand. You weren't bothering her, distracting from her work. She wanted to leave because she had found another woman, a woman prettier than you, smarter than you, and the same age as her.

You ran off, never looking back. You were only hurting yourself. In your hasty flight you passed by a peculiar car, one that had no comparison. Marilyn's little beetle was there, parked.

“Damn…” You said, trying to catch your breath. “Damn you!” You yelled, kicking hard at the rearview mirror, which broke instantly. Your anger exploded at that moment and with a punch, you broke one of the windows, setting off the alarm.

That made you wake up and keep running towards Nevermore. You had lost your mind, you even cut your hand badly, which you didn't notice until you saw the blood running through your shirt.

All night breaking the furniture in your room and spending every last tear on your body made you realize the situation. It's over, she had chosen. There was no chance. If you didn't start to accept it, you would never recover.

She wanted to be your friend, she didn't want you to walk away from her. You could understand her point of view. You were 25, she was 43. It stood to reason that it couldn't have worked. That a woman of your own age would suit both her and you.

The next day you blinked, lying in bed. Your room was a mess, littered with broken wood and scattered papers on the floor.

You sat on the bed with an intention. Try to forget once and for all. You picked up the cell phone and texted Marilyn. You wanted to see her, you wanted to tell her that you were okay with being friends with her, that you wouldn't insist again.

The answer was not long in coming, but it was not what you expected. She told you that it was impossible to meet with you that day, that she was very busy. You furiously threw the phone against the wall and lay back down. If you couldn't do anything, it was best to try to sleep.

You didn't eat, you didn't leave your room. You spent that Saturday alone with your thoughts, your tears and your memories. When it got dark you sighed, looking out the window. From there you could see the conservatory. There was no light. Marilyn wasn't there, you didn't know where she had gone, or rather you didn't want to know.

“Fuck… I still love you…” You whispered to yourself. You couldn't deny it, you were still crazy about her, you were going to go crazy.

A soft knock on the door brought you out of your regrets. You snorted, wishing it wasn't another one of your co-workers lamenting your situation. You opened the door reluctantly.

“Marilyn?” You said surprised. There was the redhead, grinning from ear to ear, blinking rapidly.

“Can I come in?” She asked.

“No, I mean… Yes, yes of course,” you said stammering. You didn't expect her visit at all. She nodded and walked into the room, slamming the door shut and leaning her back against it.

“What's wrong?” You asked, ducking your head. You didn't want to look at her. You were embarrassed by what you did to her car, and you were still thinking about that Liz girl. It was hard for you to keep your whole body from shaking.

“Can't I come see you?” She asked with a soft voice and that strange smile.

You shook your head and started to find yourself too nervous. The rage you had inside hadn't quite disappeared yet.

“I thought you were with your friend,” you hissed, crossing your arms. She laughed, but she didn't respond. “Why did you come? To tell me how well you've had with her? To tell me how well she kisses? To tell me how well you held onto her perfect blonde hair while you fucked her?”

After that sentence you turned pale. It was assumed that you had never seen her, that you did not know her appearance, the color of her hair. You didn't know whether to jump out the window or hide under the covers. You just made the stupidest mistake of your life.

“I see you didn't miss any detail, (Y/N),” the redhead said, moving away from the door and approaching you with a slow and somewhat threatening step. You had to fix that mistake.

“I... I didn't, it was just an intuition, I believed that...” While you tried to explain yourself without any sense, you looked at her face. She didn't show any discomfort, what's more, she didn't even seem to be surprised “Wait… You knew I was there… Right?”

“Of course I knew, you're so unsubtle, (Y/N)…” She said laughing as she got closer, cornering you against the wall.

“How? You had never seen me transformed,” you asked, your lips trembled.

“Let's say I have friends in Jericho…” She whispered in your ear. You swallowed and immediately found a culprit.

“Oh, God, Tyler, you fucking rat…” You said, closing your eyes. Marilyn kept smiling, she seemed amused by your nervousness.

“Don't blame him, (Y/N), he can't lie to me, It’s in his nature,” she told you, leaving you with more questions than answers.

“Nature?”

“I'll explain it to you later. What matters now is to clarify some things, don't you think?”

“Hey, Marilyn, about, about your car… I, I'll pay for it, I promise. I was out of control, I lost control,” you explained embarrassed while her hands went to your waist, pulling your body towards her.

“It was you? I should have suspected. My little jealous kitty...”

“Shit…” You whispered. You probably didn't know that fact. You're a complete mess, (Y/N)

“You have nothing to fear, darling, I will never love someone other than you…” She told you. You must be dreaming, nothing she said seemed to make the slightest sense.

“What? But, but you left me…. You... You kissed that woman...” You said with teary eyes.

“Don't believe everything you see, (Y/N).”

“Let's see if I clear myself up,” you said, moving away from her. “You leave me because you say I'm annoying in your life, in your chores, then you ask me to return your dress to date another woman, who by the way is prettier and much better than me …” You started to tell. “Then you meet this Liz and kiss her… And now you tell me that you love me. I think I need a vacation,” you said, letting yourself fall on the bed.

“(Y/N), that disgusting woman is nothing compared to you, don't belittle yourself like that. I was just using her. I never had the slightest intention of getting into bed with her.”

“Using her? Why? To make me jealous?”

Marilyn sat on top of you, her legs on either side of your hips.

“I can't tell you, (Y/N)… You see, I've been thinking about you and me and I think I was wrong,” she told you, putting her hand on your chest. You listened attentively and very confused. “I thought that our relationship had no future for the plans I have in this school full of rats. I was wrong, you are a cat, not a rat... Surely we can do great things together.”

“What are you talking about? What plans? Marilyn, you're driving me crazy,” you said, almost desperate.

“It's a surprise…” She whispered in your ear, while her hands ran over your breasts with some anxiety. “Now I would like you to trust me, and stop asking stupid questions…”

Upon those words, she leaned in to kiss you. It wasn't a soft kiss, it was a messy, hungry one. You kissed her back, without thinking about all the questions those words raised. Going back to her lips was like a trip back in time, like going back to the place where you always had to be.

“Okay, okay, wait,” you said, pulling away from those kisses before they became unbearably addictive. “One last stupid question, why did you make me to believe that you didn't feel anything for me? Why the hell did you leave me?”

“Those are two questions, (Y/N), don't you know how to count?” She told you while she kissed your neck, sinking her teeth from time to time.

You didn't want to insist. You had what you wanted. Her ravings went unnoticed in your mind, you didn't give them importance. You only cared about her kisses, those kisses that you missed so much.

“Everything is going to be alright, my love…” She whispered as she took off your shirt, revealing the horrible cut you had the night before. “Oh, my poor kitty is hurt...”

“Your poor kitten was furious…” You said indignantly. Your semi-naked chest rose and fell rapidly. “You played with me, you made me feel like shit and…”

You couldn't continue. Her lips assaulted yours again, this time not to kiss you, but to shut you up.

“Stop talking, I told you that bitch is no longer a problem. I called her because she had beautiful hands…” She whispered. You widened your eyes.

“Hands?”

“I told you to shut up, (Y/N),” she said, pulling your hair. “This can only go well if you trust me, if you really love me. Do you, (Y/N)? Do you really love me?”

“What? I… Yes, of course I love you…” You said, enduring the pain of pulling your hair.

“Well then, shut up and let yourself go.”

You obeyed without thinking too much. That violent attitude was something new for you. You still didn't understand anything. While her fingers entered between your legs you couldn't stop thinking about her words. On one hand you were scared. On the other hand, you were happy, you loved Marilyn and you didn't care about anything. You moaned, gasped, and caressed your newly recovered lover. You had a very bad feeling, but her moans when you kissed her in her favorite places, when you made love to her, made you forget it.

“My love…” She whispered, being on the verge of collapse. “We will be invincible...”

“Yes…” You moaned, seeing her hips move disorderly. “Invincible.”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #laurel gates

[sophiaredwood03]

One of my oldest fanfics

reposting here because I'm tool lazy to look for it in my tumblr

“ Mistress?” I look up, only to see a pair of deep blue eyes looking at me.

“Ah… Apologies, Shifah. I was preoccupied.” 

I take the letter from Shifah. The letter is of a high grade with elegant decorations. Familiar handwriting which I recognise all too well. 

‘We most humbly request Lady Vane’s presence at the commemorative royal ball of Colde to celebrate the creation of Saligia.’ This letter was sent by the kings of Saligia.On normal occasions, I would decline but this for me and for many others besides, is a day to remember. It is afterall, the 4th year after Saligia was created. I dislike going out in public. People always watch me wherever I go. Even the kings are careful around me. I wish they wouldn't treat me like that; I am of the same blood as them.

A week later…

The doors swing open to a world of music, revelry and light. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Remember. Don’t be nervous. You can do this. I take a single step into the venue. Just how many people are here? Hundreds of pairs of eyes turn and focus on me. I curtsy politely in acknowledgement. People avert their eyes or turn their heads when I walk past them. I really can't blame them.

Seven pairs of eyes meet mine. I gaze right back.These are the kings of Saligia, the ‘demons’ as they were called by humans. Not anymore though, the humans are on another planet, Earth, rebuilding their lives free from any kind of magic. 

I don’t know any of the kings’ names, they never told me, I never asked. The one with golden eyes and a relatively calm presence finally breaks the silence.

“It is good to see you again, Lady Vane. I trust you are in good health?” Rather polite and gentle, King Invidia rules over the smallest kingdom. His kingdom is blessed with an abundance of flowers and the people are warm and welcoming.

“ Yes, indeed. I am in excellent health.” I nod in response to him. I scan the room. A sea of colours, alive with chatter and merriment. I turn and offer a smile to the kings, a sincere one. In the short span of 4 years, they managed their kingdoms so well that nobody would think that a short while ago they were at war. I’m quite pleased, they did much, much better than I had hoped.

“ And I am very happy to see you all again.”

#court of darkness #sr03writes

[apoemaday]

I’m Explaining a Few Things

by Pablo Neruda

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs? and the poppy-petaled metaphysics? and the rain repeatedly spattering its words and drilling them full of apertures and birds? I’ll tell you all the news. I lived in a suburb, a suburb of Madrid, with bells, and clocks and trees. From there you could look out Over Castille’s dry face:               a leather ocean.                           My house was called the house of flowers, because in every cranny geraniums burst: it was a good-looking house with its dogs and children. Remember, Raúl? Eh, Rafael? Federico, do you remember from under the ground where the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth? Brother, my brother! Everything loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises, pile-ups of palpitating bread, the stalls of my suburb of Argüelles with its statue Like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake: oil flowed into spoons, a deep baying of feet and hands swelled in the streets, metres, litres, the sharp measure of life, stacked-up fish, the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which the weather vane falters, the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes, wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down to the sea. And one morning all that was burning, one morning the bonfires leapt out of the earth devouring human beings-- and from then on fire, gunpowder from then on, and from then on blood. Bandits with planes and Moors, Bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, Bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to kill children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood. Jackals that the jackals would despise, stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate! Face to face with you I have seen the blood of Spain tower like a tide to drown you in one wave of pride and knives! Treacherous generals: see my dead house, look at broken Spain: from every house burning metal flows instead of flowers, from every socket of Spain Spain emerges and from every dead child a rifle with eyes, and from every crime bullets are bom which will one day find the bull's eye of your hearts. And you will ask: why doesn’t his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land? Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets!

#poetry #pablo neruda #i'm explaining a few things #tr. nathaniel tarn