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angelsparkls · 1 year

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all my favorite fics that no one asked for:

* = my absolute favorites

multiple ship fics:

All in the Cards (series)* - (haikyuu) MY FAVORITE FIC OF ALL TIME! although lengthy it is such a good read and has a lot of popular ships! the au is such a cool concept and the plot and characters are thought out so well it’s amazing and should definitely check it out

The Crystal Miracles - (kuroko no basket) based off steven universe but coming from someone who has never watched steven universe the fic was not super dependent on it and was just based around the plot of steven universe (apparently i talked about with my friend who actually watched steven universe) i thought it was cool so definitely recommend! also a bit lengthy but worth it

friends, worlds apart - (haikyuu) it’s mainly bokuaka but there’s other ships so i decided to put this fic here. tbh i don’t remember it too well but i do know it well enough to know that it was really good! it’s a pretty long hogwarts au fic and is based off basic plot points from harry potter but it’s not too similar imo so overall a good read!

Haikyuu:

Death Threats & Wine Bottles - (semishira) domestic semishira. that’s all. it’s cute. there’s nothing to not like about it.

Saltwater Room - (kuroken) i think i read this because of a recommendation and man it was funny. i enjoyed all the fun little bits of kenma and hinata just being friends but also the more serious angsty parts and having the whole conflict with kuroo and kenma’s dream. *sigh* it’s good but lengthy. worth it in my opinion but i like long fics so maybe not your cup of tea

When I Fall In Love - (semishira) i can’t really remember this fic since i read it a long time ago but i do remember liking it! the band au/pianist au concept was cool seeing it with semishira and they are so supportive of each other after they get over their annoyance! it’s not as long as the other long fics i’ve recommended but definitely give it a shot!

Cover My Thoughts In Gold - (bokuaka) some classic soulmate au because they are soulmates so why not have a fic that has them be confirmed soulmates

True Ending - (kuroken) marriage proposal in the best and cutest way possible and one that perfectly fits them 🥺

Cat’s Out of the Bag - (kuroken) it’s just some cute little scenes of kenma as a shapeshifter and kuroo not knowing. it’s quick but so so cute how they interact

Maybe, Probably - (sakuatsu) cute hogwarts au of slytherin atsumu and ravenclaw sakusa. yeah that’s basically it

Rose Gold - (semishira) ROYALTY AU SEMISHIRA AAAAAAA definitely one of my favorite considering that I actually never see a royalty au centered around them

Vibrant - (semishira) im a sucker for soulmate aus but this soulmate au especially was such a cute concept!

A Musical World Thanks To You - (semishira) soulmate au fic but you can hear songs that your soulmate is listening to! it really is such a good concept with semi asking shirabu to be in the talent show with him and perform a song and yk yk big build up to the moment hehe

Dog visits - (kyouhaba) the classic “oh he’s different than i thought what do i do now” and yahaba being soft with kyoutani’s dog is everything and kyoutani not knowing how to deal with yahaba barging into his life 😍

be my honeybee - (kyouhaba) tw: implied/referenced child ab/se if you aren’t comfortable with that please don’t read <3 but it is a good fic and addresses real issues especially with kyoutani not really having anyone to help him until yahaba came around. it’s a bit long and made me cry a little so that’s why it’s good

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back - (kyouhaba) everyone has superpower abilities!! i always love aus like this so it’s not a surprise it’s one of my favorites. it also touches on mental health in the form of kyoutani doing too much for people when he doesn’t need to and always sacrificing himself for others even when it makes him unhappy. it’s so good tho if you ever decide to read it because it is a bit long

rewrite the stars - (kuroken) arranged marriage au where kenma and kageyama are going to get married but by the end they realize that they are marrying the wrong people and its so cute seeing kenma come to that realization

Kuroko No Basket:

The Frog in the Well - (midotaka) it has been a while since i read this fic but i do remember laughing about this and just thinking it was overall cute especially with the whole aspect of being a loose retelling of “The Frog-King” and i know two other people who also read this and thought it was cute so there’s that

The Witch in the Tower - (murahimu) this is from the same series and author as the previous knb fic i recommended because this fic is also based around a fairy tale and i found this really cute because they are kinda domestic in this fic since there’s just an adopted child in a tower… anyway

Feels Like Winning - (murahimu) just some soulmate au for them because murasakibara not knowing how to deal with feelings <3

Only with You - (kikasa) a cute fic for this surprisingly underrated ship! it’s not too long but encompasses these idiots’ relationship in this fic perfectly

Claws and paws - (murahimu) this shapeshifter au is so cute because like height difference 😍 and also the whole idea of like himuro being this tiny cat compared for murasakibara is funny to me. it’s kind of long but i enjoyed it!

Other Fandoms:

Boy Problems - (mirio togata x tamaki amajiki) an OG for me it’s actually one of my first bookmarks and it’s a cute little oneshot that reminds me how oblivious and stupid these idiots are

the blind leading the blind - (childe x zhongli) it’s not really focused on relationship but it really touches on the betrayal that childe feels after realizing that zhongli gave his gnosis to signora behind his back and i think this fic is so very cool for creating that scenario and executed it perfectly!

kintsugi - (teru minamoto x akane aoi) oh lord. oh god. this fic actually kinda broke me. it’s a very bittersweet fic that makes me go OMG YAY and then oh oh oh oh /neg but it does end happily. at what cost tho. it’s so so so good tho definitely recommend. a little lengthy but not too bad

Look At Me Like That - (momotarou mikoshiba x aiichirou nitori) THIS FIC SUMS UP THIS SHIP PERFECTLY! ITS SO GOOD! like the whole thingg of ai having unrequited feelings for rin but is now in love with this idiot momo is exactly how i see their relationship and having that tied up in this one fic.

#fanfic recommendation #haikyuu!!#kuroken #bokuaka #semishira #sakuatsu #kyouhaba #kuroko no basket #midotaka #murahimu #kikasa #miritama #zhongchi #terukane #momoai #original posts

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months

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Help Wanted - Bottles x Reader

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @darqchilddaydreamz @the-person-in-the-circle @librarian1002 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @@littlestroman @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @lunamoon @s1lverhand @wakeama @adaydreamaway08

When your dad gets sick you pull away from him. Bottles isn’t sure if it’s a self defence mechanism, if you need the brain space or what. All he knows is that you aren’t around, and that you stop picking up his calls. When he goes past your house, it’s dark and locked up. It goes on for a few weeks. The two of you have only been together a few months but the idea of you in pain wounds him, your absence in his life cuts deep.

When he does catch up with you it’s at the supermarket of all places. It’s ridiculous how something as normal as buying toilet roll can turn into a twist of fate. He isn’t looking where he’s going when he comes around the corner of an aisle, and he bumps into you literally. He knows it’s you before he even registers your face, the recognition is instinctive at this point, he’s attuned to your presence. He catches the scent of your perfume, sensual and soft with a hint of mandarin.

You look tired, your hair is pulled back into messy bun and looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. Your face is gaunt and there’s dark shadows underneath your eyes. You are far from the vibrant girl he knows and loves, and it kills him.

“Talk to me.” He requests his hand coming to rest upon your arm, his thumb chasing over the hollow of your wrist. “As a friend, as a lover, I don’t care what.”

It’s at a table, in the outdoor seating area of the café next door, that the whole thing comes pouring out of you. Your dad’s been sick for a while, longer than you realised and you don’t have time anything else in your life right now.

It had started with him calling you at odd hours to ask when Family Fortunes was on, something that he had never done before. Bottles remembers these phone calls vividly, because they always seemed to occur around a similar time on a Saturday. Your phone would ring and the two of you would look at the clock and he’d say “It’s your dad” without even looking at the call display.

At first you had thought he was just lonely, your job as an events manager kept you busy especially with the Santo Padre Summer Festival on the cards. Then one day you’d popped over and discovered he’d had a mini stroke. He’d lost movement in his left hand, he could barely hold the remote, his memory was shot to shit, and he was asking where your mother was despite the fact, she had passed away five years earlier. It was soul destroying.

You are one of the strongest people he knows, so when you start to cry it breaks something deep down inside of him. He shifts seats to the one alongside of you and wraps his arms around you because this shit is far too much for one person to bear. He holds you close as you sob into his chest, cradling you close.

He knows a thing or two about being exhausted and overwrought, how it feels like a weight bearing down on you. After his father died of an opioid overdose, his mother hadn’t been able to get out of bed for weeks. His relationship with both of his parents had been fraught, but he had spent that time taking care of her. He made sure she ate, that she had company and little by little he’d helped pull her out of the depression until she had started to function again. He knows that this shit isn’t easy. That between your job and caring for your father you’re wearing yourself down, he can see in your eyes how your struggling to cope.

“Let me help.” He asks you. “Please just let me help you.”

He must catch you in a moment of complete weakness because you agree.

The first time Bottles turns up at your father’s house, the old man thinks he’s one of the in-house nurses that he’s managed to run off. There’s been a couple of them so far and none of stuck around more than a few days. After spending a couple of hours with your father he can see why.

He’s a veteran, he used to be a Captain. People like that hate anyone to seeing them vulnerable, so they lash out. Bottles thinks that’s part of the reason he didn’t tell you about the mini stroke in the first place, he didn’t want to shift this burden onto your shoulders.

Albert or rather Bertie, is not kind with his words but Bottles has lived through worse. He’s entire life has been far from a walk in the park and he’s now a Prospect in the Mayans. Your father is a cake walk compared to that. He isn’t sure how it happened but the three of you slip into a routine. You’ve taken as many days as you can away from work, so Bottles steps in to cover the time you’re away. He cooks for Bertie, he helps bathe him, cleans him up and changes the sheets if he doesn’t make it to the bathroom in time, he does as much of the heavy lifting as he can until Bertie starts to get a little better.

When you come home, he shoots out and deals with club business. At night, he curls up around you in your single bed, holding your close and whispering tender words into your ear until you fall sleep, surrounded by Blink 182 posters and Evanescence playing on the C.D player because he’d forgotten that they’d even existed. He switches it up with a couple of Green Day C.Ds after he’s flicked through your collection.

“There’s no money you know.” Bertie tells him one day when the two of them are in the living room watching Family Fortunes. It takes Bottles a minute to understand what he’s saying. “She doesn’t get much if I die. That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

“I’m not here for the money.” He informs Bertie as he raises to his feet and collects Bertie’s bowl from the tray set across his lap and places it inside his own. “I’m here for her, to make sure she takes care of herself.”

“I used to take care of her and now she takes care of me, how fucked up is that?” Bertie says in a rare moment of clarity. “I fucking hate it.”

Bottles can understand that. Parents are God in the eyes of children, and this is what happens when you realise that they’re just mere mortals like the rest of you. He knows how jarring this whole experience has been for you, and for Bertie. Confronting your own mortality changes you, he knows, he spent his entire childhood, thinking he was going to die every time he went under the knife because a child with a disability wasn’t good enough for his parents. He sets the bowls down on the floor beside his usual chair before sitting down again.

“I had forty-six surgeries by the time I was eighteen,” He confides to Bertie, pulling up his trouser leg and showing your father his scars embedded deep within the tissue of his leg. “Suffering isn’t new to me, you can’t imagine the shit I’ve gone through, and I can’t imagine the shit you are going through but I know what it’s like to feel like your life isn’t your own, to feel frustrated by your own capabilities.”

“I don’t want this for her.” Bertie tells Bottles. “I don’t want her putting her life on hold to take care of me and I don’t want to end up in one of those homes where they feed you gruel and leave you to die alone in a bedroom where the curtains are still drawn because nobody bothered to open them.”

“I hear you.” Bottles says. “It’s fucking depressing.”

“So, what are my options?” Bertie asks him. “I rely on my daughter and her… What even are you?”

Bottles shrugs his shoulders because truthfully the two of you have never really put a label on it. All he knows is he’s committed to you; he has been since the moment he kissed you on your doorstep.

“The man who loves your daughter.”

“Boyfriend? Partner? The guy who hoses me down when I make a mess of myself?”

Bottles finds himself smiling before he shrugs his shoulders.

“All of the above.”

“I’m serious when I’m asking you what my options are.” Bertie informs him, his gaze straying back to the T.V. “I need to start figuring shit out before I start losing my marbles and the decision is taken away from me.”

“I could find out.” Bottles offers as he leans in close. It feels like the two of them are engaging in a conspiracy, because the both of them know that the idea of putting your father in a home is not something you agree with. “One of the guys in my club, his mom has memory issues. She started to fall down a lot. He managed to get her into this sweet place up by the community centre. She loves it there, she’s made a lot of friends, there’s all these clubs she goes too, they do some pretty cool shit. I could look into it for you?”

Bertie reaches across the space between the two of them, his strong hand grasping Bottles’.

“Could you?” Bertie requests before he tilts his head to the bedroom door where you’re sleeping. “I have a feeling we’re gonna have a fight on our hands.”

"I'll talk to her." Bottles promises the older man. "See if we can't all get on the same page."

Love Bottles? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Wanna read more? Check out Bottle's Masterlist here!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#bottles goggles #bottles x you #bottles x reader #bottles mayans #bottles mayans mc

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only-angel-28 · 4 months

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mastermind, part ten

(guys i just realised i’ve had this thing marinating in my drafts for like a day i swear i posted it omg i’m so sorry anyways💀💀💀)

i go back to school on monday im literally gonna cry i cant do this any more like💀💀

anyways i just kind of wanted to say that bc its literally depressing me now but heres part ten of mastermind😍🙌🙌

i hope you guys enjoy it and i kinda hate the ending but i have too man things ti revise for in school so…

anyways love you guys😘😘😘

warnings: kinda gruesome in the beginning (like a tiny bit) and hurt/comfort but i think thats it!!

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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His hands are frantic inside the sheets, trying to find your body. The damp hair falling into his eyes makes it difficult to see and his labored breathing isn’t helping either.

He sits up after feeling the cold side of the bed and shoves his hair back. His nightmares have only gotten worse the closer to Voldemort you get, memories from his father, leaving you, from the manor and fears of losing you plagued his mind every day. You were normally the only one to drag him from this kind of torture, keeping him close to your chest and speaking soothing phrases into his hair as your fingertips traced their own tattoos on his skin. But ever since he left that night he hasn’t felt that warmth and any progress you two had made in helping him get better was quickly washed away. Sometimes he’d be so distracted from the horrors he’d still think you were there; however even when his eyes adjust to the moonlit room you’re still nowhere to be seen, the spot on the bed empty and cold.

He throws off the blankets and grabs his wand on the desk next to the bed, frantic. He shakes the thoughts from his head. This was exactly like his nightmare, he’d awoken to discover you missing from his bed, only to find your bloody body laying on another bed.

He doesn’t even bother calling for help, his focus is on finding you, and quick.

The tent is eerily quiet tonight…or was it early morning? He couldn’t tell. He has a death grip on his wand, clenching so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He goes down the stairs, the cool air of the house causing the hair on his neck to stand and his fear grow. He tries to calm down, assume with a clean mind how and where to find you, but the nightmare was too vibrant, everytime he’d closed his eyes to try to take a chilled breath all he noticed turned into your lifeless eyes.

He can hear the crackling of the fire in the living room when he reaches the lowest of the steps, the warm light drawing him closer.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding while he sees you curled up on the massive sofa under a warm blanket with a book in your hands. You look up on the sound, alarmed, but your eyes quickly soften once they see Theo.

He watches your eyes go from adoring to confused when you notice the wand in his hand, pointing straight at you.

Something’s wrong. You can immediately tell by his stance, rigid and stiff, not like he always is when hes just woken up, all soft and cuddly. His hair is a mess and from where you’re sitting across the room you can see his chest heaving.

“Theo?” your stomach drops. What’s going on? Was someone hurt? You quickly throw the blanket off, ready to rush over to him when his shoulders drop with relief. He tosses the wand to the armchair next to him as he stalks forward quickly.

You walk toward him as he comes in contact with you, holding you tightly, engulfing you into him as he kisses the top of your head and buries his head in your neck. You can feel his heart racing a million miles an hour as he breathes in deep, trying to calm down before his breathing got worse.

You tuck him into yourself, dropping the book you were reading to the floor beside you as your hand immediately finds his back, beginning your path, soothing circles into the firm muscle, the other carding through his wet and tangled hair. He pulls away for a second, eyes erratically scanning over you like they’re checking for wounds. And maybe they are, maybe he just needs to know that you are unharmed and in one piece, unlike whatever he had witnessed in his sleep.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You murmur when his heart rate has slowed down. His grip on you is still tight, clinging to you. If there was something wrong with Harry, Hermione or Ron or an attack on your tent he would’ve said already. You hadn’t completely forgiven Theo for that night but your heart still pangs with guilt for not being there for him when he tore himself from the nightmare, that while he was in pain, you were sitting here reading comfortably.

He shakes his head. Maybe not now, but tomorrow, when it’s not as fresh he’ll let you know what transpired in his terror, what shook him to his very core.

“It burns,” he says, pointing to his mark. You move your hands from their place on his back and trace the skin around the mark, providing relief that courses through his body.

For now though, on the comfortable sofa in the sitting room, he nestled closer to you, letting your hands soothe him back into a peaceful slumber.

For the first time in months, Theodore Nott had finally found comfort being back in your arms.

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The next day, Hermione and Ron had made milkshakes, chocolate and strawberry. They had also made a massive mess in the kitchen with their incessant arguments.

These were the only times you’d get to enjoy some times with your friends, you’d discover.

You sat on the kitchen counter next to Theo as he made burgers and fries for the two of you, the other three had left after finishing their milkshakes to talk to Mr. Lovegood.

“No add extra cheese on mine, it’ll taste good.” You added from your place up high, sipping the shake as Theo nods and says,

“Yes ma’am,”

Before walking over to the fridge to get extra cheese slices out to put in your burger.

“Do you think things would’ve been different if we hadn’t had this whole war?” You speak up, inturrepting the music in the background.

“In what sense?” Theo asks, plating the food.

“Like…do you think we would’ve still like…” you stall trying to find the polite words as Theo raises his eyebrows, looking confused.

“Hooked up, there I said it.” You say rolling your eyes at his laughter over your choice of words.

“Oh my gosh baby,” He says between laughs as you eventually join in, “Yes! Of course we would’ve. What, do you think it took a war for me to come back to you? I would’ve come anyway, there’s no way I’m letting you go like that. Wouldn’t have left anyways. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you but you’re it for me Y/n. You’re it.”

His watercolour eyes stare deeply into yours as he comes closer, the food and laughter long forgotten as you engulf him in a hug as he apologies again for leaving. His apologies are unending, as are your kisses on his neck in final acceptance.

After what feels like hours, you two finally break away from the hold as Theo brings the plates to the living room where you’ve already set up a movie and picked a place on the sofa.

You both lay next on opposite sides of the sofa, watching the movie as you eat, legs tangled together in comfort as you warm up your body with his.

“Can I have a taste of your burger?” You ask after a few minutes.

He nods and leans over and helps you take a bite of his food, he watches as your eyes light up and you smile at him sheepishly. He rolls his eyes with a grin before trading your plate with his.

“Thanks Teddy, yours tastes a million times better!” You give him a kiss on the cheek as he trades the plates and return to your movie, completely missing the adoration in Theo’s eyes at the nickname.

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It’s a few hours after and you are now comfortably napping in Theo’s arms as the movie plays in the background.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had returned ages ago but thought it’d be best to give you two some time alone.

As always, your comfort is cut short when you hear Hermione’s shrill scream, awaking you with a jolt, doing the same to Theo as he instinctively tightens his grip around you.

“What’s going on?” He asks as Ron runs in, the two of you quickly standing and grabbing your wands, “They’re back. The Snatchers are back, run!” Ron shouts as the three of you run out to help Hermione.

But she’s long gone. As is Harry.

“Ron! Theo!” You shout in panic, turning to your left to find Ron gone as well, only deepening your fear.

You shoot spells at the Snatchers until you hear, “Crucio!” from your right.

Everything’s moving too quickly and you barley have any time to react before something, or rather someone pushes you to the ground.

As you get up off the autumn leaves, wand ready to shoot at anyone in sight you see all the Snatchers disapparating. You shift your eyes down to the ground to see who had saved you from the unforgivable curse.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you quickly stumble to his place on the grounds, shaking and thrashing around in pain, trying to console it best he could as he claws his mark in agony and soft, painful whimpers escape his pink lips.

“No no no no no, Theo what have you done?” You whisper, straddling him and holding his face in your hands to try lessen the pain as tears escape your eyes.

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay Theo, they’re gone now, you’ll be fine.” You try comfort him, bringing his head into your chest, remembering that providing comfort is the only way to ease the cruciatus curse.

His breathing calms down after a while as you try and shield him from the cold air fluttering around you as you both cry into each others arms. Theo pulls away, staring into your eyes with his ever-captivating ones and says determinedly, “I’m not losing you. Not like this, not now, not ever. Never again, you hear me? I’ve already lost you once and I’ll be damned if I ever let you get hurt or lose you again. God baby, I just got you back I can’t let go of you now.”

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part ten done! lmk what you think and maybe repost if you want to it really helps🤡🫶🏽🫶🏽

taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere @ama1a2 @kezibear @randomgurl2326

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welcometoclass1ahell · 3 years

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Fake Redemption Dabi x Fem! Reader

Another depressive read from a depressive writer. Boom ta da Dabi x Reader who clearly needs help. Please No minors, even if this isn’t sexual it’s still meant fo adults.

Word Count: 2088

But TW!: Abuse, drugs, cocaine, abuse and more abuse, depressive triggering shit

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She knew.

It was a terrible idea. She however accepted that idea. It didn't matter if it was the worst idea either. She wanted this.

The cold air whipped into her face as if someone just threw a glass of water filled with reality onto her. Why was she going? Why did she think she deserved it? That last thought caused a strained laugh to spill from her almost blue lips.

Thankfully nobody would see her laughing at her own self at this time at night, standing next to the bus stop. She wasn’t even waiting for a bus, it was just another distraction for her. Taking her time was only delaying what was coming.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she looked at the name calling her, her lips curling into a sneer. “Impatient to get this over with huh?” mumbling to herself, she silenced the call and continued on the dark road towards the only place she knew would get her what she wanted. No. What she needed.

Walking there was the part she hated the most. It gave her time to rethink, to go over her thoughts repeatedly until she hated herself more for it.

Finally getting there felt like a redemption, a false one, but a redemption indeed. Looking at her goal, the rusted iron door to an old worn down factory that screamed ‘Stay away!’ only enticed her closer. Raising her hand she knocked three times slowly and waited as she heard the heavy footsteps on the other side.

The door creaked open to reveal what she had been waiting for, a man who would have caused children to cry and mothers to scream at one glance of his jet black inked face and arms. “You could have answered my call, doll” The man who referred to himself as Dabi drawled out his eyes narrowing down on her.

“Could have, but didn’t,” She responded tiredly yet a tone of anxiety seeped through her voice. Shrugging, Dabi side stepped letting the woman enter before slamming the door shut and locking it to make sure no one would be interrupting tonight. “You got everything?” She asked as she walked over to a small wooden crate, one of the few only items left in this abandoned building. Sitting down she turned her eyes to Dabi who nodded with a smirk and walked over pulling out a baggie with white substance coating the insides.

“I got everything, all yours doll. I also made sure no one will be around till morning. Are you sure you want to do this again?” He asked, his godly blue eyes staring into her own eyes made them both pause. Now normally, he couldn’t give a rat's ass who he made dealings with but this frequent customer of his had his curiosity. She wanted something nobody has asked of him ever. Not willingly anyway.

“Yes. I doubled the payment as well, I need this to last a while,” She stated matter of factly before shrugging off her coat. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but peer down at her arms covered in bruises. He hated to admit it but the swirls of yellow, blue, green, purple, and even black were beautiful to him. Maybe he was biased, since he was the one who had put them there.

“You know I don't usually ask about anybody’s business, but I’d like to know. Why do this to yourself?” He couldn’t help but ask as he watched her smile up at him like a lunatic. He knew better though, she was only faking the smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Mr. Dabi?” She responded keeping her edge of mystery and teasing as he threw her the bag of snow which she caught with two hands. Opening the bag she eyed the substance and once satisfied she pulled out her phone and her debit card. Cutting lines silently, she didn’t bother to acknowledge her supplier, still staring at her with amusement. “It’s just not everyday a pretty woman comes knocking and asks for some supplies as well for her dealer to absolutely beat the shit out of her to go along with it. I prefer beating the people who owe me money, not pay me money,”

“Funny isn't?” She retorted back as she rolled a dollar bill from her wallet into a fine tube before lowering her face but not before she looked up at Dabi through her eyelashes, “However I don’t go around asking anybody to beat me up you know? You just happen to be a very handsome man who knows how to hit the spot just right,” Her laughter filled the cold room for a moment as Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit himself. “You intrigue me, dollface,” Was the only response she got before she put the dollar tube up to her nose, expertly inhaling the lines she had set up.

“I’ll give it a moment to kick in and we can start, yeah?” Dabi only nodded before kicking another crate close to the one she was sitting on and sat across from her,” How about after we finish up here, you and me go for a drink? My place?” He offered to which the woman sat still as she looked at him in disbelief. “We’ve met up numerous times, fucked once or twice, smoked or did lines once and twice, but every time I always had to beat you till I wasn’t sure if you were breathing or not. But me asking you out to drink is shocking?” Dabi teased after getting no response with a smile before he received a nod.

“Fine, I suppose that's alright,” She agreed and both her and Dabi sat in silence for a few moments before she started to feel the rush come to her veins. Energy began to flow through her as she stood up and walked to the middle of the spacious factory room signaling Dabi to follow to which he did. Turning around to say she was ready was only met with a harsh punch to her cheek which had her huff out in surprise. No noise spilled from her lips as her head cracked to the side. Kicks, punches, spit, and anything else Dabi could do to her, she felt for the past hour. It felt painful of course, but so freeing. It was just what she needed. She longed for some type of touch, something to pull her from the edge of slipping through the cracks of insanity and this…..oh yes this was her redemption.

Everyone always left her, friend or lover. Parents or teachers. She was always given up on or abandoned. She couldn’t figure it out. Years of being neglected as a child to now being seen as nothing but a waste of ‘potential’, whatever that meant, had her come to realize a false truth. She was the problem. Now deep down she knew it wasn’t that. She never did anything. She only had hateful parents, fake friends, teachers who just couldn’t care for their less paying jobs, and lovers who needed a quick fuck bring her down to this level. But she needed a reason otherwise it would hurt more. She decided she was the problem. She didn’t communicate enough. She was the one who didn’t try harder, who kept trying till something worked. It was all her fault and now to this day she seeked her false redemption.

She loved the sound and feeling of Dabi’s knuckles cracking against her face, the way his heavy boots collided with her ribs giving off a satisfying thump, or the way he spat on her with a loathsome look in his eyes. She loved it all because she knew at the end of the day he wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t neglect what she wanted, no what she needed. He was always there. That’s why she kept coming. The pain, the feeling of adrenaline, the focus of someone else on her was what she loved having.

She felt free, as if this was going to lift her out of her shithole of a life. The sad fact however is once it began it also ended. Lying on the cold cement ground, heaving deep breaths of air in her lungs as the drugs still pumped through her veins wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Pushing herself up with shaking arms, she tried to stand up to face more. The fresh bruises on her face screaming in the beautiful vibrant colors couldn’t be felt to her. No she could never feel the after effects for a while but she can feel the impact. It was powerful enough to get through the drug that way.

“M...More,” She breathed out looking up to the onyx haired man who simply had taken out a cigarette and started to smoke. “I think you’ve had enough for-”

“It’s never fucking enough! I need more! Please...im begging you,” She screamed out, her voice echoing through the facility as Dabi stared at her in shock. She never screamed at him before. In fact he’s never heard her raise her beautiful voice to anyone. She knew she looked pitiful, he could tell with the way her face started to scrunch up in shock from herself. Taking a deep drag of his smoke, he squatted down so the balls of his heels were firmly planted into the ground.

“Hey...look at me,” He gently muttered as he helped her sit up before his eyes bore into her own. “That's enough. Here, take a hit,” He offered to which she took, her pupils still large and round as she looked back at him, “Listen, after a while I kind of started to figure you out. You don’t need this to feel something you know. You don't deserve to do this to yourself,” He started to which she looked at him with wide eyes, tears starting to pool threatening to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” She simply stated in a hurt quiet tone. “No, I don’t. But you know what I do know? People who do deserve this don’t do this to themselves. They bring it out on others. I would know that at least,” Dabi responded lightly, “You come here every three days. Every three days you pay me to do this to you. Every three days you get yourself so fucked up and get me to beat the living shit out of you and for what?”

“It’s the only thing I have Dabi! I want to fucking feel something for christ sake! Don’t I pay you enough?”

“It’s not about the fucking money anymore!” Dabi roared back, causing both to be silent for a few seconds before he continued, “It’s about the fact that I’m starting to feel like shit doing this to you. Dealing you shitty drugs is one thing, but beating up a woman who’s so pathetically on the verge of not caring for her own life anymore is something else,” He spat more harshly than he meant to. Sighing, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,” Doll, I don’t want to be the reason you want to end it. I want to be the reason you start something more. I hate to admit it but after a year of this shit I can’t help but start caring for the mystery woman who like to have her ass get kicked,” He laughed to which she couldn’t help but join in a little.

“Why?” Was the only response she gave to which he shrugged, “You’re cute for one thing, but from the times we fucked, drank, smoked, you show something more than this. I want to see more of it. If you really want to feel something then let me show you another way,” He offered, holding his hand out.

Staring at him then his hand she took it with a small sigh,”I...I don’t know but...I’ll try,” She agreed to which Dabi smirked, ”That’s all you gotta do. Try,” He said, happy to finally have her do something other than this. If only she knew that though his sweet words and handsome promises of something better was still a fall. This man wasn’t good, healthy either. A shady drug dealing and maybe even murderous bastard he was but still, to her right now he looked nothing but an angel. Oh but if she only saw in the shadows how broken and fallen his wings actually looked.

#bnhaxreader #dabi x reader #dabixreader #mhaxreader #mha #bnha #tw: mental health #tw: drugs

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marvels-agents100 · 4 years

Text

the keeper of horae

spring

seasons change, but he never does

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: fluffy soft hotch

word count: 1,775

author’s note: this is it, kids ! im sad to see this series end, but i will be grateful for its existence, not mourning over its loss. aaron might seem a lil ooc, simply because in this universe he and the reader are very ~ poetic ~ so,,,, yeah. enjoy, thank you joining me on this journey

The conference room was silent, empty of life besides Aaron, who gently took the official crime scene photos off of the evidence board. The lines below his eyes ran deeply, his shoulders weighed down by the pure exhaustion that coursed through his veins. A soft click echoed from the door, his eyes dragging lazily to see who had entered the room. He could only muster a small smile when he saw it was you.

“The rest of the team is already back at the hotel,” you said quietly, your hands intertwining behind your back, “how are you doing, boss? I can handle this, if you want to go get some sleep.”

“I’ll be okay,” he answered quietly, turning back towards the mostly empty cork board, “you should rest.”

Your teeth gnawed on your lower lip for a moment, mind contemplating your next question, “Can I show you something?”

His gaze found you once more, eyebrows pulling together, “What is it?”

“It’s a ten minute drive,” you explained, “but, I can promise you won’t regret it.”

He held you in his stare for a second, trying in vain to pull any nonverbal clues as to what you were talking about. When no hints were visible, he let out a small sigh, “Alright, okay.”

The drive was silent, the sun beginning to settle into the mountains as you reached your destination.

You exited the car, Aaron not far behind you, and walked off of the dirt road. He was on your heels, not once questioning where you led him. You looked back and offered your hand with a small smile, his steps faltering slightly, before he reached and interlocked his palm with yours. You tugged him along by his arm, your forward focus missing the blissed smile that graced his lips.

You finally reached the small hill; the hill whose west side was covered in vibrant wildflowers, facing directly at the setting sun. Releasing Aaron’s hand, you walked into the flowers and sat yourself in the midst of their color, legs crossing as your eyes stared at the yellow and orange that painted the sky. He followed your actions, shoulder brushing yours as he settled into the ground, legs stretched in front of him and palms leaning on the earth behind him.

He looked at the land around him; flowers dancing in the breath of spring, their lively hues bringing the promise of sunshine and occasional soft, warm rain. He breathed in deeply, letting the smell of honey and lavender overwhelm him, the wind carrying the fragrance of the blooming petals beneath it.

“Spring is my favorite season,” you spoke softly, your words being carried by the breeze, “it always reminds me of how alive our earth is.”

He hummed in response, eyes skimming over the pink that reflected off of the clouds.

“Why did you bring me here?” He questioned, his voice low and soft.

You looked to him, studying the way the sun reflected in his honeycomb irises, “This case was a bad one.”

His gaze met yours, “It was.”

“You said once that you had begun to see the beauty of this world,” you nearly whispered, “I figured you would need to witness some of that beauty after this week.”

Eyes jumping between yours, the corner of his lips twitched upwards, “Thank you.”

You nodded once before looking back to the falling sun, it’s rays reaching desperately to cling to the clouds. The flowers surrounding you perfumed the air, carding through your hair and embracing you completely. A content sigh escaped you, a smile settling on your face.

His eyes never left you, tracing over the slope of your nose and the minuscule curl of your lips. He memorized the way your hair seemed to glow in the orange light of the sun, the way your eyelashes brushed delicately against the wind, the way your shoulders relaxed as you took in the scenery surrounding you. He wanted to commit every detail of you to memory, just so he could look upon you when you were absent. But, the more he tried, the more he realized- you were already there, living in his thoughts.

He could remember the way the snowflakes landed on your eyelashes and reddened your nose as he wrapped his scarf around your neck, or the way the ocean sparkled light into your eyes as you told him how you confessed your secrets to the sea, or how your skin glowed next to the golden leaves that surrounded you, his scarf once again draped upon your shoulders. He didn’t need to remember every hair and freckle and wrinkle and dimple- he already knew them, he already knew you.

“I don’t need the world’s beauty,” he confessed, the words tumbling from his mind to his mouth before he had a chance to hold them back. You looked to him, head tilting in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- I just,” he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily to collect himself, “This world is bright, it’s beautiful, and it took me a long time to realize that,” he looked towards the sun, “the sun shines it’s light down upon us, whether we deserve it or not.” He looked back to you, your eyebrows raised in curiosity, “You helped me see it. I was so focused on the night, that I never saw the stars.”

Your cheeks began to redden.

“But, my love,” he continued, “none of this beauty can compare to the beauty within you.”

You took a shaky breath in, willing the tears glistening your eyes to go away.

“Aaron Hotchner, are you calling me pretty?” You chuckled, your voice coming out watery and wavering.

He let out a small laugh, “I am,” his smile remained, “but not just in how you look, but who you are.”

Your hand quickly wiped at the droplet that trailed down your cheek, eyes blinking to prevent any further losses. “You’re making me cry,” you joked.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his thumb reaching forward and delicately brushing your cheekbone.

You sniffled, “You deserve to see it, the light this world has. You’ve lived in darkness and pain for so long.”

“And now, because of you,” he held onto your cheek, “I can believe that.”

Your eyes searched his face, your head leaning into his touch.

“I always talk about the seasons,” you begin, “how each one is uniquely captivating,” your hand came to rest upon his, “and I always mention the sun, moon, and stars, how they’re constant and beautiful and wonderful.”

You broke his stare for just a moment, collecting your courage before looking at his warm honey eyes once again.

“It’s always been you, Aaron, you are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars. You are my winter, summer, autumn, and spring. You are every breeze that brushes the leaves, every petal the flowers grow. You’re every drop of rain, every ray of sunshine. Hell, Aaron, you are the words that fill the pages of my story, and I wouldn’t ever want to change that.”

He could feel the tear roll down his cheek, tracing along his dimples and dripping from his chin. He breathed, trying to ground the sudden dizziness that overwhelmed his head- probably from his heart beating far too rapidly- before speaking.

“I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he whispered, voice wavering slightly.

A wide, uncontrollable smile took over your face, your arms reaching to latch on around his neck, your body colliding into his as you let yourself fall into his arms. Your face rested in his neck, your giggles muffled by his skin.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you spoke against his pulse, “please tell me this is real, not just a dream.”

“You’re awake, love,” he whispered into your hair, back landing on the ground as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Your head lifted, face hovering above his. You admired how the wildflowers adorned him, the foliate creating a crown around his head. His eyes were still golden and soft, staring at you with a look of adoration. You hand brushed along his cheek, thumb grazing his bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” Your whispered, your words no more than a breath, their only listener being the man before you and the blossoms surrounding him.

“Always.”

Your head dipped slowly, giving plenty opportunity to put an end to everything before it had even started, but he gave no complaint as you inched closer to him. His eyes fluttered shut, hands reaching your cheeks, your breath upon his lips. You paused, lips brushing against his, letting yourself smile just one last time before finally reaching him.

His lips connected to yours with a soft passion, a sigh leaving his chest as he gripped onto your cheek. Your fingers wrapped around the hair along the nape of his neck, a satisfied groan escaping him. Pulling you closer, he refused to let you go, despite his hungry lungs.

The way your lips felt against his just made him fall further. He decided then, while kissing you in a field of flowers as the sunset watched, that he would do anything for you. If the stars ceased to exist, he would hang each individual light just to fill your eyes with wonder. If the clouds fell from the sky, he would spend a lifetime painting them back onto the sunlight, just to see you smile at them once more. If all the blossoms shriveled and died, he would summon the April showers just to make the May flowers grow. If you chose to dance in the rain, he would dance alongside you, with joy in your smiles and daisies in your hair. You had planted a seed in his heart as the snow fell to the ground, and now, in the middle of Spring, your seed had become a garden.

You pulled away from him, despite your mind’s protests. Lips still brushing against his, your chest heaved slightly to make up for lost air.

“Promise me,” you said breathlessly, “promise you’ll never stop kissing me like that, you’ll never stop loving me like this.”

“I promise, on everything I am,” he swore, just as winded as you.

Your lips met his again, but pulled away after a moment.

“I love you too, by the way,” you giggled.

He laughed, a full laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes and nearly burst your swollen heart.

And you knew. You knew he would keep his promise, you knew he would love you endlessly.

You knew that your love was just a bud, and would only continue to grow.

taglist:

@quillvine @winterscaptain

#aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #criminal minds #fluff #sad to see her go

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otheliame · 4 years

Text

Day 4: “A Man In Love”

thank you @gentapprentices for such a fun week so far!! im loving seeing everyone’s masc folks having a fun time!

I actually wrote a fic on this, Shift about my apprentice Jamie coming to Vesuvia and meeting Asra for the first time, and then later Nadia, Muriel, and Lucio before the Plague. It’s stinking cute, and here’s a little segment from the first chapter, the Magician, when the fated two meet in the most cliche of circumstances. It’s written from 1rst person POV, 9 years before the canon.

The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but it’s proving hard as it’s a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Something’s happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as I’d like to know what that something is, I don’t want to get caught up with the crowd… it’s been a long day.

Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. I’ve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and it’s been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it.

A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I don’t get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and rest, especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasn’t particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me tired. I still feel like there’s hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now it’s still a hard thought to shake.

I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - I’ve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I had no choice. There just aren’t any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I could’ve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escape… to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less people’s gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. I’m not sure why though, for I’m certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was the… things… I could do. Here it’s the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and I’m not.

I don’t like being around people, usually because people also don’t like to be around me. I’m… weird, for lack of a better word. I have certain… abilities that other people don’t have, and in my experience if you have something that other people don’t they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different types… I’m just another uninteresting face. That’s what I wanted when I came here. It’s thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when I’m just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. It’s still very… difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later. Almost to the street corner, almost there, then I’m home free… Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave me…

Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is that’s causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street.

Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the street’s center, I scurry to keep upright.

Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market stand’s doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counter’s surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as I’m hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me.

Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, “Are you alright?”

When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the stranger’s gaze… layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as they’re the only one behind the counter… The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd.

“I…! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize I’m covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I must’ve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards I’ve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other that’s rugged wood configured in a bear’s face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The stranger’s hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, “I didn’t mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!”

“It’s alright!” The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stall’s offerings, and this time I don’t flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention, let me help-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that I’m paying better attention I realize it’s not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort of… energy… coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall.

He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, “Really, it’s alright.”

I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? I’ve never felt someone’s aura so tangibly before-

I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. “Erm… What do I owe you for your lost goods?” Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think it’s a rose petal as that’s what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, it’s incredibly impressive, did he paint this himself? I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side, “What’re you selling, anyway?”

The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land.

Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps she’s here for that. Though, I’m not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I don’t know much beyond that. And, frankly, it’s a miracle I know that much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things are… very different.

In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stall’s inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; it’s engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehow… different. Unique.

Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it should have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, “It doesn’t look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.” A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. “Right! Of course… Yes. I mean, good. That’s good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I mean…” Jamie, please. I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, “Not even something for the stall door?”

The amusement in the boy’s eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. “If you’re truly so troubled…” He pauses as if he’s reconsidering his words but after the moment’s hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious and… hopeful, almost. “I was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinner… I wouldn’t be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ‘repayment’?” He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.

Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. “... Oh!”

The boy’s gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, “Only if you want to, of course. It’s not every day that someone falls into my stall… I simply can’t help but think it’s a sign of some sort. I’d love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.”

I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, “A sign?”

He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cards… cards unlike any playing cards I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, “Are you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?”

The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, “I suppose some would call me that. Though I don’t think there’s an age limit on reading cards…” Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, “But you may call me Asra.”

I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done that to me before. “... Right. Okay, uh… Asra.”

There’s a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beat’s pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, “And you are?”

“Oh!” I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, “Right. Names. Introductions… Er- I’m Jamie.”

“Jamie.” Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression I’m not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. “Have you ever been to the bakery down the block?” He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation.

I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I can’t lie, I am a little intrigued by their… disposition. I do find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirs… I simply must know more. And I hadn’t exactly had other plans for the evening…

This may as well happen.

I slowly take his hand.

...

Wanna know what happens next? Keep reading !

#gentapprentices #gentapprentices week #thearcanagame #the arcana game #the arcana #asra the arcana #asra the magician #asra alnazar #the arcana asra #my apprentice jamie #the arcana apprentice #asra x mc #asra x apprentice

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espbee · 5 years

Text

miscellaneous teru headcanons since it’s his birthday :D

he kind of bounced around clubs in his first year of middle school because he wasn’t really satisfied with anything he found. he settled with soccer towards the end of his first year

he never really meant to get into a gang it just kind of happened.

he was already using his powers to get what he wanted and he was friends with edano in grade school so when edano asked him to be shadow leader teru was like. alright

when his hair was longer he wore it in a little ponytail sometimes. he still wears a hair tie on his wrist and stims with it

he bought the wig for 60000 yen with his parents’ credit card

when he dyed his hair he almost went with light blue instead of blonde

he likes painting his nails vibrant colors but by the end of the day he’s absentmindedly chipped it all away

he always wanted a little brother so when ritsu comes along he’s like :) it’s free brother

the same happens when serizawa and reigen adopt him, shou, and tome. he collects siblings like pokemon cards

speaking of which, he also collects pokemon cards. he has a huge sparkly binder and everything. when he gets extras he gives them to mob (and if mob already has it mob passes it down to ritsu)

he’s the top of his class in every subject except for Literature

after his parents leave he throws himself huge birthday parties and invites basically the whole school to play laser tag.

despite the huge crowd he feels very lonely

at the end of the night he buys himself a confetti cake and watches anime by himself in his apartment

post-mob teru’s birthday parties feel a lot more meaningful to him because he has a family and real friends now! god im gonna cry

his fifteenth birthday is at the amusement park. he and his friends go through the “haunted” house like five times (except for ritsu b/c he gets freaked out)

mob and teru have their first kiss at the top of the ferris wheel

he! loves! board games! he’s the one who started game night at the reigen household.

teru cannot sing to save his life but thinks he has an amazing voice

mob: oh... that’s, um... that was really good hanazawa..............

(alternative... mob: shut the Fuck up hanazawa *throws the tambourine at him and goes 100%*)

bonus teru doodle:

#hanazawa teruki #teru tag #terumob #mp100 #telepathic signals #lowell dot jpeg #these were all really random hcs i didnt know what to do with

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faunusrights · 4 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 16

in which murphy nearly cries AGAIN over this fic AGAIN

Cinder didn't say anything. She returned that searching look, like she was wanting something too, like she believed Glynda held some key for her own soul.

HELP ME PLEASE GOD HELP

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE I BEG OF YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i GUESS WE HAVE THIS CHAPTER TOO. I GUESS. OH MY GOD. IM GONNA SCREAM.

we’re opening with florence + the machine lyrics and i LOVE me some florence which is the only thing helping me cope rn but HERE WE GO. WE JUST HAD PAIN. NOW IT’S TIME FOR. MORE, PROBABLY.

The room was cast in filtered blues that seemed to drown all other color, an abyss of night that stole the reds of Cinder’s dress, smothering her in wine-violet.

i once made an offal hunt bingo card that i should have been using the entire time (whoops) but add ‘colour theory’ to it somewhere. and also because i see violet i see glyndas colour am i onto smthng here,

ALSO:

She hadn't said a word beyond what was strictly necessary through the entire ride up to her little apartment.

glynda... have u been invited into a lady’s apartment,,,,,,,,, GLYN,,,,,,,,,, HAVE U PULLED,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, G L Y N D

The lights reflected in her eyes in discs, like screens, like cat’s eyes—shockingly yellow in all the somber blue.

FUCK YEAH

FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT’S GLOWY EYES HOURS FUCK YEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

i have been WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT for like FOREVER oooooooh my god yes. YES. cinder yr PRETTY EYES. i love her. did i mention that. because i do,

Glynda had heard of Faunus taking blades to themselves, to try and hide their features and escape the ever-present eye of human oppression. To cut away ears and horns and tails, shearing parts of their own bodies in a desperate break for freedom.

i want to say something thats VERY 👈😢👈 because i. hrm. dont worry abt it. im filing it away. like glynda is. but in a sadder context.

‘whats sadder than this?’

dont ask,

That couldn’t happen. Glynda didn’t want that to happen. No matter the risk. No matter how Cinder would lash out.

OUGH,,, glynda if u start 2 care then cinder will start 2 care and thats a one way ticket on the pain train to gaytown. i, for one, am thrilled,

The response on Glynda’s tongue withered as Cinder, with little fanfare, lifted her dress over her head and laid it haphazardly across the dresser. When Cinder turned back around, the faint sliver of light found purchase in the thin chain around her neck and the jade pendant laid against her bare chest.

OH SHIT

/crashing sounds

MA’AM,

im having to take a minute just give me a minute please give me a m in u te

It was impossible to tell whether Cinder noticed her sliding out to the left of her own body.

glynda, but slightly to the left,

HONESTLY ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO??????????????????? MA’AM

this bed sharing is the straw thats gonna break the murphy’s back. this is it. im gonna die.

Mindfully slow in the darkness, Glynda walked to the other side of the bed, folded her glasses onto the nightstand, and slid under the covers next to Cinder. A small space existed between them. Glynda’s heart thumped in her chest as she tried to discern even the slightest motion from Cinder at her back. Proximity made her dizzy with warmth.

im not even able to comment on like specific instances because im as LOST AS GLYNDA IS RN,,,, WHAT,,,, HELLO?????????????? GLYNDA. THEYRE

THE BED

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Glynda jostled her shoulder. “Are you awake? Cinder?”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” Cinder said, unmoving.

og offal hunt COULD never DID never WOULD never i am absolutely going fucking ape shitt crazy feral rn. holy shit. holy shit. lads. the bed. the bed. theyre in the bed. you. whats going on.

“I know,” Glynda agreed. “You’re kind of a menace.”

Cinder was silent. In hindsight, that hadn’t come out as encouragingly as Glynda meant.

hsdjgfsgdf if this is what its like when these two are. semi-enemies. can u imagine what it’ll be like when theyre dating

(i can)

“If I showed up on Sienna Khan’s doorstep with an army behind me, she’d demand to know what took me so long to come home.” Cinder’s eyes were burning coals lodged in the sockets of her shadowed, furious face. “Fuck her. Fuck all of them.” She paused only for breath. “It’s been years—decades—and they still think—”

GOD. THE LORE!!!!!!!!!!! i am SO interested in cinders backstory and this version is rly just going wild. going hoggie wild on this shit. what the hell happened. why did it happen????????? whats going on?????? CINDER... TELL US MORE...

She was furious, like a cornered and wounded Grimm; furious, and hungry for violence.

👈😔👈

“If there is, bring me with you.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

this is some poetic cinema. this is some soft and tender shit. i want to cry. why is this SO good.

Something small and charmed crawled out of the hollow of Cinder’s expression: the flicker of a smile, for just a moment. She said softly, “We weren’t all born with ancient souls, Glynda. Some of us were lucky to be born at all.”

👈👈👈😭😔😞👈👈👈

this is so soft. im absolutely dying. im going to die. take me out.

It must have been the room, or the night, or air, or—something—that made Glynda admit, “I wish—that I felt that way.” At the expectant silence that followed, Glynda swallowed and continued, “Not—not with the White Fang. Just… I wish that it felt like everything had been leading to something. That everything in my life was worth it.”

Cinder was very quiet.

I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING. DIESEL. KC. I WILL PERSONALLY BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSES OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh this sucks SO MUCH MORE when you KNOW THINGS(tm) ABOUT THINGS and ooooooooooooooooh my god im literally gonna fuckin die oh my GOD STOP!!!! STOP I HATE IT

It was like swallowing water and holding it in her lungs. She hated how it hurt. But she would rather that than drive Cinder away. She would rather anything than be alone right now.

the good news: this edition of offal hunt is so much more potent abt everything. EVERYTHING feels more vibrant and more real and more interesting and more... everything. and its GREAT i adore it

the bad news: im fucking sobbing

“Ten,” Glynda said. “I enrolled at Beacon when I was twelve.”

okay this is still a very sad moment but also can you fucking imagine rolling up to class at 17 and seeing a literal 12 year old look you in the eye and go ‘you know i can tutor you if you need extra help’. id be fucking livid. who is this square,

Instead, Cinder dared nearer, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind Glynda’s ear. It was an oddly comforting gesture, coming from her. Glynda’s heart stalled in her chest and Cinder, ignoring it, said, “I know it meant a lot to you. That he meant a lot to you.”

me, pointing: this is it ladies and gents and beans. this is it. cinder’s gone and done it now. i can feel it on the wind. here it is. there it goes.

“What is your destiny?” Glynda asked, feeling bolder than before.

The fingers brushing hair behind Glynda’s ear stalled. Cinder’s palm laid warm against Glynda’s high, sharp cheekbone. Something stuttered and then leapt between them, and Glynda’s face went hot when Cinder whispered, “You.”

“Me?”

“We were born in the same year. You couldn’t have known that—that we’re the same age.” Cinder paused and withdrew her hand, tucking it against her own chest. “But my mother felt it. I always knew.”

Glynda didn’t begin to know how to respond.

“We were born in the same year,” Cinder repeated, almost as if to remind herself, like swearing an oath. “We’ve always been each other’s destiny.”

“I always thought it was my destiny to die,” Glynda finally admitted. “Just like my mothers.”

“No,” Cinder said, distantly. “No, it isn’t.”

okay its bad form to grab SUCH a huge section to like bring attention to it but this is. so much. not just from a fucking offal veteran perspective but SO much more too. like this section is just IT its the CORE of the THING!!!!!! and i wish i could go into why hooooooooooooly shit this bit is just. It(tm) but thats a spoiler so i will settle for this

👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈😭😭😭😭😭😭😔😔😔😔😞😞😞😢😢😢😢😢😨😨😨😨👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈👈

cinder’s last line? has me on the FLOOR. THE FLOOR.

When Glynda asked Cinder what her destiny was, Cinder had said you.

The echo of it was butterflies in Glynda’s stomach.

im losing it. ima bsolutely beside myself

An unfamiliar tension lined Glynda, one she couldn't name or place or recognize. It choked up her throat and clogged her lungs with some unfathomable longing, but for what, she could not place. She looked at Cinder, studying every part of her face, and knew she was studied in turn; Cinder’s lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but she said nothing in the end.

But even without speaking, Glynda felt like she’d found an answer to a question she hadn’t had the courage to ask.

OOF. GOD. IM. AH. SHIT. C H R I S T.

i know that this is. [redacted]. and things. and that this is gonna turn into a chapter i look back on and WINCE at when [redacted] and [spoilers] happen but ooooooooooh my goooooooooooooooooood im dying. im outtie. goodbye. rip. fuck me.

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog #im dying

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sanderssidesangelsdemonsau-blog · 5 years

Text

In The Shadow of the Empty Throne Chapter 7: The Funeral

Warning: There is an extensive funeral description and scene at the end of the chapter, if this is something that will upset you feel free to skip it.

Note: Feedback is always appreciated as welcome

Chapter 7

Patton tore the door open and became confused, as there was no one there. The cool night air hit his skin and he shivered, wrapping the robe more tightly around himself and going to close the door only to see, last minute, a flash of red on the ground in front of him.

Logan heard Patton gasp and suddenly rushed down the stairs, fists raised, ready to protect his lover, only to see the same thing and immediately turn to hold him instead, offering comfort and a place to hide his eyes from the horror that sat on their steps.

Virgil rushed immediately after Logan and fell to his knees once more beside the body of Roman. He found his face was wet, though it was not raining outside, and threw himself over Roman’s chest, only to feel something crumple beneath him.

Through blurry eyes he picked up the small note that had been placed on the angels chest.

Thought you might want this back,

~ S

Having heard the doorbell when it had echoed through the house, Emile poked his head out of the bedroom on the opposite end of the house and called out to the others, using angel powers to ensure they heard his voice.

“Is everything ok down there? Who was at the door?” his voice was broken sounding and they could all tell he had been crying.

“Ya, everything’s good Em, go back to bed. It was just someone who- uh… got lost.” Patton called up to him and waited for the bedroom door to close before talking again. “We can’t tell them Logan, at least not tonight.”

“I agree, but we will need to tell them soon, perhaps tomorrow.” Logan said softly.

Virgil didn’t move. He sat there, staring at the note, tears running down his face as he just found himself unable to comprehend and come to terms with what was happening.

When Roman had… died earlier, he hadn’t had time to process it. His brain hadn’t made a permanent connection between the body and the angel being one and the same, being dead. Now he was left with a stark cold reality. The once vibrant and handsome young man was gone… and it was his fault.

“Why don’t you head back to bed, kiddo?” Patton said, placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and kneeling in front of him.

Whatever Patton was saying to him was a blur of sound. He couldn’t understand a word of it and barely registered that Patton was talking to him. The hand on his shoulder felt like the one thing keeping him in reality. That and the tear stained note clutched in his hands.

Patton turned to Logan after several moments went by and Virgil didn’t respond. His eyes wide with concern, begging Logan to help.

Slowly Logan walked around the body to kneel in front of Virgil at eye level. He saw that Virgil’s eyes were glazed over and tears were running down his face in copious amounts. Slowly he sighed to himself, then picked up the boy and cradled him in his arms as he had once done years ago.

After picking VIrgil up, Logan carried him up to his room, and tucked him into bed before walking back down the stairs to Patton.

“You should probably head to bed to... I’ll place Roman in his room, alright?”

“Actually, I think im going to check on Em and Bee, and then Virgil, besides, I don’t think either of us will be getting any sleep tonight Lo…and not in the way we’d thought earlier, sadly.”

Logan nodded before carefully picking up Roman’s body, and carrying him to his room while Patton walked to Emile’s room, and gently knocked on the door once Logan had gone back downstairs.

“H-hey. Just a second.” Em called out in a broken voice.

Patton waited patiently for a while before the door cracked open.

“Oh, h-hi. I was jus-”

Patton interrupted Emilie’s explanation by suddenly hugging him very tightly. Em had been trying his hardest to keep himself put together but this finally broke him down. He fell from his rigidness he’d been holding in his body and slumped into Patton, barely standing on his own at this point. He sobbed into his friend’s shoulder, uncontrollably.

From in the room Patton could hear Barachiel still sniffling with tears and knew that Em had been staying strong to try and support his partner.

Patton shuffled himself and Em into the room and over to the bed, which was a mess of blankets and pillows that Bee was slumped into. Carefully he set Em down on the bed on one side of Barachiel and sat himself on the other, holding Em’s hand across Bee’s stomach.

It could have been hours or maybe just minutes later, Logan came searching for Patton and found the three of them passed out, aside from Patton, who was blinking sleepily and nodding but fighting sleep away.

“Hey,” Logan whispered, kneeling in front of his spouse.

Patton hummed sleepily in response.

“Let’s go to bed, love. Okay?” Patton shook his head in response, refusing to move.

“Don wanna... “ he said slurred. “Bad dreams…”

“How about I distract you from those?” Logan offered, with a sly smile.

Patton smiled back and wrapped himself around his partner. “Carry me,” he demanded.

Logan was more than happy to oblige.

_______________________________________________________________________

The next morning the four angels went to the kitchen and found Virgil intently making pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, an entire feast of breakfast foods. The smell of browning pancake batter was rich and sweet, mixing with the savory smell of bacon and sausage. The eggs were seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic, basil, and had small chunks of broccoli in them, the combined smell of it alone was enough to cause Patton to drool and Logan’s stomach to rumble. After their nightly activities it was no surprise that both were famished.

Em and Bee looked and felt almost entirely dead inside as they shuffled after their friends. The smell of the food, however, perked them up enough that they walked slightly faster as they got plates to put their food onto.

Virgil turned around wearing a Nightmare Before Christmas cooking apron and flipping the last pancake onto the large plate where the others sat.

“That apron looks amazing on you,” Patton said, staring to eat his breakfast, “You could say it is rather fitting.” Patton grinned, while Logan groaned and everyone else in the room let out a quiet laugh.

“Uh...thanks Patton”

“You’re welcome, also this breakfast is amazing, kiddo.”

Virgil smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, at that compliment and sat down to eat his breakfast as well. For the most part the rest of the meal passed in relative silence, a mix of awkward and comfortable. Toward the end of the meal when everyone was finishing up, and placing their dishes in the sink Logan spoke up.

“Em, Bee, there's something I should tell you. The person at the door last night, it was not someone who got lost...it… it was Roman...someone- his body was on the doorstep last night…”

Em and Bee looked up in shock, their dead and limp, uncaring and broken slumps suddenly turning to hope, then back to defeat as Logan stated that it was in fact the dead body of their kid.

“Well…” Em said softly, looking down. “At least we can say goodbye. I thank deeply whoever gave us that chance.”

“Where is he!?” Barachiel demanded, anger, hurt, and pain sown into his voice and body posture.

“I put him in his room last night, he’s there now.” Logan answered, thinking on how the body looked as though he were merely sleeping and would sit up at any moment and laugh at them all for being so sad.

Em and Barachiel both immediately made a beeline for the bedroom in question and Logan turned to Patton and Virgil only to find Virgil numbly doing the dishes, despite Patton protesting and insisting that because he’d cooked he needn’t do that.

“I need to do something!” Virgil snapped at Patton, angrily. He then spoke again, a quieter voice, “I… I just can’t let myself not do something. I… I’ll start to think and… I just can’t deal with the pain right now…”

Patton sighed softly and nodded, understanding where Virgil was coming from, “Alright, why don’t you get some rest after you finish kiddo.”

“Fine, I guess..” Virgil said finishing up the dishes and walking upstairs to his room. When Virgil walked into his room he saw the same figure he had seen the night before.

“Hello my love,” The translucent figure of Roman said floating towards him.

“No, you’re not actually here, I’m only imagining you,” Virgil buried his face into his cat pillow only lifting up when he heard a voice singing softly at the side of his bed.

You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

I know you want me

So don't keep saying our hands are tied

Virgil watched as the figure of Roman seemed to sit on the bed, singing a song that somehow felt familiar.

“Roman, I know you’re not really there, what are you doing?”

You claim it's not in the cards

Fate is pulling you miles away

And out of reach from me

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?

Virgil rolled over determined to ignore the voice singing beside him, pulling the covers over himself and putting pillows over his ears, his back to where the ghostly figure had sat on the bed.

What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight

Convinced he was dreaming, Virgil gave up and sat up looking at the figure, before softly starting to sing the next part of the song, not entirely sure how he knew the words.

You think it's easy

You think I don't want to run to you

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why

Because we're able to be

Just you and me

Within these walls

But when we go outside

You're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all

Roman smiled softly at him and reached out with his transparent hand as if to touch Virgil’s face, only to suddenly fade from existence as Virgil blinked tears from his eyes.

Sighing softly with annoyance at how this dumb angel had completely ruined his life so much that he haunted him even now, Virgil laid back down holding onto his cat pillow and fell asleep, still completely convinced this was all in his head.

_______________________________________________________________________

Emilie and Barachiel reached the door of their son’s room and Em reached for the handle first, only to hesitate, hand resting on the knob, and withdraw. He turned to Barachiel with a sad look in his soft pink eyes.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this.. I don’t know if… if seeing him like this will… it could ruin my vision of our bright and happy kid… I.. I don’t want to tarnish that memory with…. His cold body as the last time I see him.”

Barachiel laid a hand on his partner’s shoulder and sighed heavily before responding.

“We.. we owe it to him. We owe it to say goodbye, Em,” he said sadly.

With that, he reached around the smaller angel, practically reaching over their head in reality, and opened the door, walking in and shepherding his lover into the room.

Roman lay on a canopy four-poster bed, the room and bed both decorated in his signature red, white, and gold. The bed itself centered in the room with white sheets and blankets, trimmed in gold. Sheer red curtains hung around the bed on each side and hid most of the bed itself from view, as well as it’s occupant. Both the angels knew that the pillows on the bed, where their son’s head rested one final time, were royal red with gold trim. The walls were all red aside from the one towards the head of the bed, opposite the door, which was gold, a white crown painted onto it meticulously by Roman himself, a few months ago.

Em and Bee both slowly approached the bed and Em reached a shaky hand out to pull back the curtain. A painful wailing cry escaped his mouth as he did so and witnessed his child lying lifeless on the bed. He looked as though he were only sleeping. He would wake up any moment now and tell them all about his recurring dream he’d been having the past few weeks.

He was wearing that white crown and the one who had once ruled heaven before everything fell apart had crowned him themselves. How he wore a white gown with a golden ornament sitting on his right shoulder and a red belt tied ‘round his waist. A figure in a deep purple dress stood beside him, their face he was unable to make out but he felt an unmistakable connection to them and knew they were very happy for him in that moment. Everyone was there, and Logan and Patton were holding a small brown haired toddler with silver eyes.

Roman’s parents clung to one another for comfort at the foot of his bed and slowly came to terms with their loss and grieved together, not knowing the spirit of their child was only a few doors down, gazing lovingly at his soulmate as he slept.

_______________________________________________________________________

When Virgil next awoke it was to Patton gently shaking his shoulder.

“It’s time, kiddo.” He said, gravely.

With a sigh Virgil pulled himself into a sitting position and straightened his hoodie.

“Time for what?” Roman’s ghostly figure asked, floating around the room, trying to get Virgil to look at him. “What’s going on, Mi cielito(A/N: my little sky)?”

Virgil ignored him and silently left the room, shortly behind Patton.

Of course, this did not deter the dashing princely character, as he followed them, passing through the door and soaring ahead to be in front of Virgil again.

Awkwardly, Virgil stepped around him, causing Patton to look at him with a puzzled expression.

Virgil shrugged and lowered his head more, slightly embarrassed.

Eventually they found themselves a ways away from the mansion, though it was still in view. Thousands of angels had gathered in a small area of the field and stood near a large glass coffin, decorated with red roses and baby's breath.

Roman’s figure came to a halt at seeing the coffin.

“Oh.” he said simply, face blank and voice full of surprise.

He floated to sit on top of his coffin and made the entirety of the funeral service immensely awkward for Virgil as he had to stop himself from staring at the strange idiot.

To distract himself he began singing.

No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

Roman’s ghost responded, seeming to be the only of the attendees who could hear the soft singing.

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight

Virgil glared at him and continued responding in song, softly so as not to draw attention.

All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you

How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Roman once again responded, insistently.

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours

The funeral continued and Virgil ignored his urge to respond to Roman once more. Emilie, at one point, walked directly through Roman and offered Virgil a tearful hug, thanking him for making Roman so happy the last day he was alive. Virgil accepted numbly, and then focused on not remembering a second of the funeral for the rest of it’s duration.

An eternity later everyone else was leaving and Logan nearly tried to get Virgil to walk with them back up to the house, only to have Patton stop him. Once no one was around, the dark clothed boy walked up to the coffin and places his face against the cool glass, gazing at the blank face of his dead… he wasn’t sure who Roman was… his.. Crush? He allowed hot tears to roll down his face as, softly, now sobbing, Virgil responded with the last of the song.

You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, abruptly, clinging desperately to Patton, who’d come back to check on him. The angel responded by gently hushing him and holding him back just as tightly.

A flash of violet light surrounded the two of them for a moment and when it was gone, Virgil was wearing a deep purple dress.

“You.. your wings!” Patton said softly, smiling gently.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #emile piciani.#angels and demons AU #original male character #tw: funeral #sanders sides #tw: death mention #ghost

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genjilovebot-blog · 6 years

Note

Dva, Mercy, and Lucio reactions to their s/o who only ever gets cheap, store bought presents for everyone else but spends time making meaningful and sweet presents for them.

D.VA

It was Hana’s birthday. The beloved girl wasn’t expecting much from anyone, but she knew everybody would make a fuss. Not just the Overwatch team but the whole world. Her country, South Korea, would do something to honor her.

“Happy birthday Hana!” People and staff would say as they passed by her. “Thank you so much!” She would say back.

Through the day, she’s been collecting gifts from people who cared enough to give her stuff. Those gifts ranged from gift cards (with boatloads of money in them) to cute, gold necklaces.

You walked into Hana’s office at the base. On her table was a mountain of gifts. You looked down at your bag. ‘Pathetic’, you thought. Your gift was made with love and yet everyone had given her something she’d actually like. You felt as if your gift was worth nothing.

“YN, what are you doing here?” Hana asked from behind you. You got startled, “oh, hi Hana. I just came to drop this off.” You raised the bag, “happy birthday!”

She smiled brightly, cheeks dusted with pink, “aww you shouldn’t have!” She looked at the bag, “can I open it now?” You nodded and she proceeded to take the tissue paper out the bag to reveal her gift.

Hana reached inside and pulled out a wooden H. On that H were photos of you and her. Precious memories. Memories like successful missions to simply getting a smoothie together. Hana looked at you, she felt so special.

For anyone else’s birthday, you would’ve gotten some last minute gift from some random store. Like when Jack’s birthday came around; you bought him a lousy hat with a gift card for pizza.

“YN..” Hana held the H gently, “I don’t know what to say..”

“I know.. I’m sorry Hana. I wish I could’ve gotten you something better but-”

“YN! This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten! It’s so full of love and thought, it means so much to me!” She hugged you hard, “I can’t wait to put it in my room when I return home! Thank you, YN.” You smiled, knowing you’ve made your favorite person happy, “you’re welcome.”

–Mercy

There’s been many successful missions lately. It was one after another that each mission was complete. So the team decided to go out to eat and get gifts for each other to celebrate.

You found a seat at the table, it was crowded at the restaurant. Gifts took up one half of the table and food took up the other. “Hey Angela,” you planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Hey darling, you made it just in time. We’re about to open gifts!”

You rubbed your hands together in excitement, but there was also a hint of nervousness too. You made Angela’s gift this time. You didn’t buy one at the store. You hoped that you wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

Each person opened gifts one by one. Many 'thank yous’ and hugs went around. Finally, there was one gift left, and that was yours to Angela.

“YN, I can’t wait to see what you got me!” She grabbed the bag. Your heart raced and your palms were sweaty, knees weak, and arms were heavy.

Angela unwrapped her gift. She pulled out a beautiful frame with a drawing of her inside. The drawing was completed with beautiful watercolors. The portrait was vibrant and amazing. Angela was left speechless. “You did this?” She ran her fingers gently on the frame.

“Yes, it took me months of practice and starting over, but I did it.” You looked at her.

“This is absolutely stunning!” She smiled wide.

“It sure is stunning. A gift YN gave me last time was some socks and a blanket, and I don’t even wear socks!” Genji exclaimed.

The whole table laughed with joy. Everyone was happy, especially your beloved Angela.

–

Lucio

Lucio was soon to leave on a world tour for his music. You and the rest of the team decided to throw a party before he left. The party was to have his favorite foods and “going away gifts”, even though he was only going to be gone for a month and a half. But still, it was a long time before you were going to feel him in your arms again.

Lucio held you in his arms and held his drink up, “everyone! Listen up! I’d like to thank each and every one of you for doing this for me! You don’t know how much it means to me!” He looked at you, “you too, YN.” He pressed his lips on yours and you did the same.

“How about we open these gifts already? Im dying!” Lucio laughed and grabbed his first gift.

As he opened, each gift got better and better. It all started out when Hana got him customized headphones with a matching microphone. Then Angela bought him new and very expensive software for making music.

Each gift was just more pricy and better than the one before.

“Aww, and who’s gift can this be?” Lucio finally pulled out your gift. A small box wrapped in green wrapping paper. “It’s mine.” You said shyly. “Thanks babe!” He kissed your cheek and unwrapped it.

It was a toy microphone. But it wasnt just a toy, you could record things and save them. He pressed the star shapped button. Your voice sounded. It was you telling him how much you loved him, how proud you were of his accomplishments and that you always have his back.

His eyes watered, “babe..” he choked up, “t-this is so nice.”

“Don’t cry,” you chuckled at his reaction and pulled him close.

Everyone in the room awwed. “I wish Yn thought of something cute when I was going back to Korea. She just bought me a lame movie to watch on the plane ride home,” Hana told Angela. “Shh, let them have their moment.” Hana smiled, “you’re right.” She began to awe once more. –(If you got the reference i made in Mercy’s scenario you are an intellectual)

#overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch scenarios #overwatch headcannon #d.va #dva #d.va x reader #hana song #hana song x reader #mercy #mercy x reader #lucio #lucio x reader

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warmau · 7 years

Text

{Special} College!AU Momo

major: photography / concentration: commercial

minor: dropped her dance minor because she realized she liked her own style way more than taking classes on it,,,

sports: urban dance team

clubs: cooking club (except she doesn’t cook she just tastes everyone else is making), reviews restaurants with jeongyeon for the campus blog, and sometimes gets asked by dance minors for help which shocks her because she’s like “how do you guys know i dance,,,” and they’re like “we see all of nayeons snapchats of you!!!!” and momo is like,,,,,,,,,,,clueless

ever since she was really young everyone assumed momo was going to pursue her career in dance,,,, she’s just always been so good at it and loved with a passion that people were like you hAVE to major in dance or theater,,,, be a PERFORMER

but momo,,,,,was hesitant with it because as much as she adores it,,, something about making it her chief discipline,,, took out the fun in it

so when she entered college and chose photography everyone was like ??? because since when did she like taking photos

or doing anything aside from laying upside down from her bed watching dramas or being in a practice studio,,,,,,,

but momo’s simple answer was “food”

“what about,,,,,,,food?”

“i want,,,,,,,to take photos of food.”

which im not kidding, is an actual career like who do you think takes those videos for mcdonalds or those nice pics for restaurant menus like this is a lEGITMATE business and momo is like “i heard sometimes you can eat the food after,,,,,,,if it isn’t fake : )”

jihyo: oh that’s why you want to do it, to eat right

momo:,,,,,,,,,,,

momo: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,yes

she tried doing rookie shots of jeongyeon’s cooking or her sisters and ,,, the photos didn’t turn out half bad so she decided it’d be something she could see herself doing

plus it would still give her time to practice dance for her own leisure,,,,,,

to be honest,,,college was a bit of challenge for her - momo isn’t the most schoolwork motivated and she has habits of slipping into her hobbies more than her schoolwork

cue: moms jihyo and jeongyeon reminding her that she has finals and projects due

and momo crying over the prerequisite biology course

but hey,,,,,she has a dream and she wants to be able to follow it (and make money,,,,as all college students dream of some day LOL)

plus,,,,,if anything,,,,,,she makes money on the side tutoring dance and being in small performances set up by friends or dance majors so you know ,,,,,, it isn’t like she gave up the thing she really loves

she’s just being realistic

but she does get lost on her way to class like all the time,,, like she’s been on campus long enough to know where the buildings are but she zones out and ends up outside of the library and not the art department

do you know how many times sana has found her there??? too many to count

keeps getting scouted by different uni sports teams while she’s at the gym because she’s FIT and has a more grueling workout then some of the dudes on the football team

but the only team she’s on is an urban dance one because she’s friends with the leader who lets her choreograph parts and it’s the only group that lets her ,,,, like?? break the rules??? of what people think dance is about

but yeah even though she can sleep for 16 hours straight and eats unhealthy snacks in class,,,,,,she can probably run laps around half the people on campus

nayeon calls her ab-god and momo is just like “i can make my abs dance wanna see” and nayeon is like YES im gonna put it on instagram and jeongyeon has to pull momo’s shirt down before it can happen because quote on quote, “stop exploiting her for likes nayeon”

shares her dorm with jeongyeon’s and you can see who lives on which side

because one is perfectly clean, with a new-looking monitor on the desk and textbooks staked by class and bed sheets white and crisp

while the other is,,,,,,,mismatched sheets,,,,,,,30248 teddy bears,,,,,,,and a desk that has empty chip bags on it and momo’s sweater that she wore a week ago

who cuts out photos of pretty food and tapes them to their binders??? momo

everyone in her class is like ,,,,,,,,,,,, oh and she’s like “this is a photo of a hotdog. a hotdog,,,,,,i would die for”

most definitely sleeps in class when she can LOL

you first see momo on your way to pick up a friend’s films from the photography department

she’s standing outside of the entrance,,,, where you have to swipe an ID to get in looking glum and you wonder if maybe,,,,,,she forgot her ID?

you don’t want to be weird and just ask her but it’s obvious the way she’s looking at the machine and the people passing through

it’s even more obvious when mina walks by, and goes “no ID?”

momo pouts as mina swipes herself in and shakes her head “cant help you momorin,,,,,,,,,start using the wallet we gave you!!!”

momo sighs,,,mumbling to herself that dropping her money and cards into her huge backpack has always worked before - todays just an unlucky day

you feel bad and so you walk over and go “h,,,,hey im going to be going inside and i can hand you my ID after i swipe it if you want???”

momo’s eyes light up,,,,,,,she does a little clap and thanks you

you swipe yourself in and then discreetly hand over your ID to her so she can do it too

once inside momo grins,,,,,her smile is so cute and she takes your hand to shake it,,,,,thanking you again

with that she rushes off,,,, realizing she’s late now for class and you stand there a little bewildered because something tells you she isn’t,,,,like a lot of other people is she

you learn quickly that you’re right - she’s not

because the next day as you’re leaving the photography department you see momo again

and she doesn’t have her ID,,,,,,,,,again

and you swipe her in and she’s all stars in her eyes thanking you!!!! till she goes “oh,,,,,,,,,,,,but i think i forgot my camera in the dorm oh no,,,,,,,i have to go back,,,,,”

you watch again, amazed, as she dashes out of the building you try to think of something to say but you just call out “take your ID too!”

she does something of a nod,,,,,,disappearing out the doors

this goes on for a bit,,,,,,,momo seems to never have her ID and you always bump into her at the entrance

sometimes a friend or someone else will swipe her in, but for a while it seems like she’s looking for you

when she sees you,,,,,she calls your name,,,,,,,,the smile of hers is really simple - it’s not big and bright

but it’s, it’s got this subtle beauty

even a bit of a sleepy beauty,,,something that reminds you of warm blankets and lazy afternoons

even though you’ve seen her run,,,,,like she’s part of the track team and get up and all worried about forgetting anything else before going in,,,,,,,for the most part momo’s energy is always dreamy

and you,,,,,,you think it’s cute

at one point you’d been handing her your ID when a girl,,,,with short hair and a stern expression swatted your arm and went “don’t give it, she needs to learn to stop losing her ID!”

you had looked at her and momo had frowned “jeongyeon,,,,,,,,they’re being nice,,,,,,,,,,,,,”

jeongyeon has narrowed her eyes and went “momo told me about you,,,,,,stop swiping her in! she needs to start bringing her ID! doesn’t it bother you that she’s always here?”

your gaze had shifted to momo,,,,,,to be honest nothing about her bothered you in the least,,,,,,,you’d swipe momo in for the rest of your academic career if she wanted

but you didn’t even have to say that,,,,,jeongyeon just huffed and went “i see you’ve been won over - you’re hopeless!”

turning to momo she’d pinched her roommates nose and went “stop relying on being adorable and start getting organized - we’re going to clean our WHOLE dorm till you find your ID”

with that jeongyeon had pulled momo out of the building,,,,,,momo had went willingly,,,,but turned and waved to you

shyly you’d brought your hand up to wave back,,,,,,,but jeongyeon’s words kept rattling in your head

‘you’ve been won over - you’re hopeless!’

you got stuck thinking about it so long that someone had to ask you to move out of the way so they could get through skfljda

but it’s true,,,,,,she really had in some ways,,,,,,won you over

a couple of weeks passed by and momo had vanished from her spot near the entrance,,,you were a little upset,,,,,you wouldn’t lie

but you were happy thinking that she had probably finally gotten her ID back

until you saw her again,,,,,,

“do you need me to swipe you in?”

momo shakes her head,,,,,the way her hairs up in a messy bun and the oversized hoodie hanging over her frame,,,,,you wanna CRY she’s so damn cute

“jeongyeon made me get my ID remade,,,,and i haven’t lost it because-”

proudly she shows you the lanyard around her neck, from the bottom hangs her ID pass and you look at it,,,,it’s pink,,,,,with little dogs on it

(see: you’d cry she’s so frea K I NG CUTE)

“so what’s up?”

momo motions to the door with her hand,,,,you give her a confused look but she goes “i wanna take you somewhere i really like,,,,,,do you want to come?”

she doesn’t tell you the name of where you’re going or where it’s located, you just follow her as momo takes your hand and excitedly talks to herself about how she’s been craving this food for a while,,,,,,,

you end up seated in a small family-owned restaurant,,,,momo is on a first name basis with the lady that takes your order and even knows about her kids and husband

momo seems like she’s at home,,,,,not even looking at the menu since she orders her “regular”

you try to see if there’s anything you’d like but momo urges you to get what she is - she promises you’re going to love it!!!!!!

and you’ve never seen her so animated and excited about something

her usual daydreamy like expression turns vibrant

and she tells you that this place is her favorite,,,,she’s been coming here since she was a kid

and you’re like,,,,,,,,still not sure why she’s taken you here and what this is like is this a thank you for you helping her swipe in all those times?? is this just new friends hanging out???? is this a date,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

the idea makes your heart do a ! and you’re not sure how to calm yourself down

but momo is thankfully distracted because when the food comes out,,,,,,it’s like a whole new person is in the room with you

and you reach over but momo is like “wait! let me take a photo!”

she takes her camera out,,,,,not her phone,,,,and you’re like “should i pos-”

but she instead starts snapping pics of the food, admiring it and smiling to herself and she’s like “oh! we should take one too!”

you flush bright pink as she moves over to sit beside you

she’s squished up against your arm,,,,,the smell of strawberry scented shampoo and her pretty profile up close is enough to send you into a mini heart attack

but momo just comfortably throws up the peace sign and giggles for you to do it too

the food,,,,,,like momo said,,,,,,, is exceptionally good!!! you and momo don’t talk, both totally immersed in the flavor

but once you’re done,,,,,finishing what is a serving for four people,,,,,,you go “thanks for taking me here! i never knew this place existed!”

momo nods, patting her stomach “i only show it to people who i like”

those words make you freeze,,,,,,like,,,,,,,,,what kind of like,,,,,,you’re so confused,,,,,,,

momo’s ability to say things like that with no change in expression makes your head spin because what??????? does?????? this???? all???? mean???

momo suddenly gets up to pay and you try to get some bills from your wallet but she’s just like “you don’t have to, ive racked up points!”

confused you look at her pull a card from her pocket, the name of the restaurant and holes punched all throught it except for the message that says ‘come 10 times and get a free meal!’

you gwack and momo hands it to the lady from before who asks “do you want another one?” momo just smiles in obvious response

and when you two are back on the train to campus,,,,,you practically jump from your skin when momo softly lays her head on your shoulder and falls asleep

her mouth open in just the slightest and her hand tightly holding yours,,,,,,

you feel even more nervous when you guys are standing together in front of the dorms,,,,,,momo isn’t say anything

and you’re so worried you did something wrong that you’re trying to come up with an apology in your head when momo just goes

“we should ,,,,,,, do this again”

you nod,,,,almost too fast,,,,,,,your excitement makes you embarrassed but momo just seems to find it cute

then she takes a step closer and adds “if you ,,,,, want we should also ,,,”

her hands come up to hold your face,,, your eyes dart back and forth and you feel your heart spin but you close your eyes

and momo kisses you ever so gently,,,,,,the same sensation of when a snowflake falls on your skin

but it makes your whole body tingle because,,,,,she did it,,,,,,she kissed you

and oh god you don’t want to do anything else for the rest of your life but kiss hirai momo,,,,,,,,,

you say your goodnights and you go home on cloud nine,,,,,,momo falls face first into her bed and jeongyeon is about to tell her to at least take of her shoes first

when momo turns her head, smiling and goes “jeongyeon,,,,,,i found someone i like,,,,,,,,,,as much as i like food,,,,,,,,”

jeongyeon almost doesn’t believe it LOL

the first act of dating momo is you two swipe yourselves into the photography department while holding hands and it’s so c*rny,,,,,,yet sweet

well i mean jihyo finds it sweet and nayeon says it’s corny but you know whatever

you actually get you and momo matching lanyards to wear for your IDs and you’re too shy to give it to her but when she finds them hanging on the wall of your dorm

she grasps them and is like !!!!!!! cute !!!!!

you got one with peaches on it because momo told you that’s what her name means and you didn’t say that either,,,,,,but momo somehow just Knew

momo is the comfortable college gf meaning she loves wearing baggy jeans, big t-shirts, uni sweaters, and sneakers

but sometimes when she has a dance competition to go to or sana makes her go shopping with her

you get to see momo in cute shorts or dresses and wow ok,,,,like i know we established how adorable she is but momo is hot,,,,,,and you’re like oh my,,,,,,,,,,,god and everyone is like “don’t drool” and you’re like excuse me but my gf is killing me????? do you see how good she looks??????

but to momo it doesn’t really matter what she wears, she’s fine showing up to get cereal with you in the campus dinning hall at 3 pm in her goofy pajamas like she’ll do it

but no matter what she always has that,,,,,strawberry scented shampoo,,,,,and this laid back aura that makes you feel that spinning heart feeling anytime you see her

you get to see momo’s photography and she’s pretty good,,,,,she’s definitely more careful with product photography then she is with like taking photos of people

see: all her pics of food for her portfolio are amazing, top quality

you ask her to take one photo of you and it’s a blurry nightmare

matching coffee mugs over matching phone cases

she unapologetically eats off your plate if you’re eating,,,,,,like even if you’re just unwrapping some gum she’ll break half the stick off

but you don’t mind,,,,,tbh you start carrying snacks with you because you know momo’s going to eat like half of yours LOL

when you first see her dance,,,,,you can’t even believe it’s her,,,,,,,

the same girl who just kissed you on the corner of the lips because she missed your mouth because she was still sleepy,,,,,,looks like the most fierce girl on stage

you know everyone else in the group is doing good,,,but you can’t look away from momo,,,,,,her impact is TOO strong

and afterword, sweaty and being flocked by people complimenting her - momo finds you in the crowd and sluggishly falls into your arms for a hug

“you did amazing, i never knew you were that good!”

she rubs her face into your neck and just goes “im hungry,,,,,,”

that’s momo as a gf for you; affectionate and hungry aksdlskjg

but really,,,being with her is so chill and you get worried because you want to do more for her, take her somewhere fancy or get her something expensive because she means a lot to you

but momo is totally fine with cuddling and a movie,,,,,,,,+ three different types of popcorn

and she just wants to kiss your face and not get up from the couch

also she never fails to amaze you because you once went to a dog cafe because you thought momo would have fun since she loves animals and cafe snacks

and an hour later, with a big dog sitting in her lap momo turns to you with a big smile and goes

“im actually allergic to them”

you almost yELL because oh GOD WHAT but she’s like not deathly!! she tries to hug the dog again but you’re like um excuse me let me get my gf out of her before she sneezes herself into a coma or something oh god

studying with momo consists of you quizzing her on stuff and giving her candy if she gets it right but every once in a while she just pushes the flash cards from your hands and asks to get all mushy instead

and you can’t resist her at all

jeongyeon is like “you’re wearing momo-colored glasses, all you ever see is her” and you’re like,,,,,,,yep,,,,,you right,,,,,,,,,i love her so much

you and momo looooove just laying out in a park after an exhausting week of school and work and everyone else and you guys share headphones and listen to a playlist you made

and there’s a song that goes ‘you are my peach, your are my plum’ and everytime it plays momo wiggles closer to you and mumbles that it’s your song,,,,,,,,because she’s your peach,,,,,and you’re her plum and ok is it the cutest thing ever? yeah. yeah it is

momo getting you to come to the gym with her and you’re like ,,,,, cant we just be slOBS together and go get some cheetos,,,,,,,

but momo is like it’s fun!! and you’re like idgi how can you like exercising but also not moving for 24 hours straight

dahyun: it’s her talent, the duality of les momo

you guys eskimo kiss and momo tickles you with the ends of her hair and it’s so damn soft,,,,,,,

momo is a horrible texter but it’s ok because she makes up for it by just sending the same heart emoji over and over again and then randomly you’ll get a selfie from her that makes you want to frame it and put it up in the moma she’s so damn gorgeous

she’s also the type of girlfriend to point to two cute animals cuddling and be like “us”

but also point to french fries stuck together and be like “ U!!S!!!!!”

you catch her dancing to herself and forgetting she’s in a library full of students and just so people stop staring at only her you start trying to dance along with her and ,,,

ok you love her so much and momo loves you ok she probably just blankly stares at you for 30 minutes before going “you’re pretty” and then passing out on top of her textbook

#twice scenarios #twice imagines #twice au #momo scenarios #momo imagines #momo au #sfw #twice #momo #hirai momo scenarios #hirai momo #girl group scenarios #gg scenarios #im going to cry this made me so emo

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eb-the-gamer · 7 years

Photo

A Purpose @piranhartist @dreamwithintheheart @pan-pizza (note: long and sad, i put a ton of emotion and effort into this. I hope you enjoy part 1) —-

A strange creature sits at a desk, mumbling to itself as it makes a picture in the light of a single lamp , using what could be considered hands covered in ink to draw. Each it unceremoniously pushes some of its drawings to the floor, then slams its hands against the table in frustration.

“That blasted creature was perfect…something like that Little one would have put my name on the map!”

It had seen something for sure. While out in space the monster had seen…something, flying through. He could only describe the being as a living star, and any creature with energy like that would have been a power supply even thr most elite could bid for.

His magics allowed him to bring his creations on paper to flesh, and of course, trying to recreate that star had been nothing but a chore. The multiple variations he made never held a candle to that being he saw. This last one was no different.

“Time to move on from this. Hurrushe!”

Slowly, the various drawings peeled themselves away from the paper, leaving it blank for their creator to draw something else. Nearly all of them were barely formed scribbles that managed to scuttle about, bumping into each other and their surroundings. The creature rolled its eyes as one scribble managed to get both crushed and flung into a garbage bin.

The last of these drawings raised up as the monster re-gathered its paper and set it back on the table. The girlish creature’s colors began filling in its monochrome appearance, vibrant yellows there, an obsidian blue here. The creature stared as the drawing came to life…maybe this time it would work… —- I came to the world groggy…but warm. So cool! I already know so much too! I think i can speak…but i want to take this all in. There are gears hanging, turning in the air, along with tubes full of black and steaming pipes connecting from one wall to another. Theres a soothing rhythmic clanking, mechanical hums and an occasional hiss, unintentionally creating something of a tune to follow! The smell…well that’s gross, the oil smells so bitter i can nearly taste it…the floor is also distressingly cold and hard. Well, The guy staring at me is floating, so i guess it wouldn’t matter much to him.

Senses are AMAZING! This life i feel is great! Ok, ok…the guy looking at me seems board, i want to ask him some stuff, I dont want to screw this up, I’m so nervous… —- The monster’s hopes slowly died as it observed the complete creature that had come to life. It was like all the others, no energy like what it had witnessed in what inspired the drawing. It simply looked around silently like a bird would. It didn’t glow, or spark, or even rev up or anything to show any meaningful excess energy at all.

“Uhm..hi, sir?”

Same questions, as per usual…The monster huffed this time.

“I am Plaijur the Djinn. I created you. You are just a copy i tried to make of something else. You did not work out.”

The drawing’s smile fell slow. Plaijur had been through this same scenerio multiple times, and though it had made him sad at first, he learned to be callous against it.

“Your name,” Plaijur continued, thinking “is, Stelluna.” For all his work copying things, he found it easy to make puns and word hybrids, especially names, he’d even renamed himself. Stelluna’s smile returned, apparently she liked the name too.

“So does that mean that you’re-”

“He heh heh heh heh-No. Dont call me dad, master, father, or creator. As far as I’m concerned, you are a failure on me.”

“But D-Plaijur. What am i supposed to do then?!”

Plaijur got up, turned around, and began to speak more terribly bluntly than ever.

“I don’t care. You can go anywhere you want, but don’t stay here. You can do whatever you like, but don’t do it here. You can be whomever you please, but be it somewhere else.” —- This is…awful… What had I done? Why am I a failure? There’s a rising unpleasant feeling in my stomach, and it continues to grow the more i look at that one eye of his…

the stupid eye of this dummy! I want to run, he needs to care about me enough to chase me. He doesnt mean all of this, right? Its a test! Its got to be!

…right?

The rising feeling it up to my chest now, behind my lungs…The more i look at Plaijur’s face the more i believe what he says is completely honest. It, hurts. It hurts, so much.

“Please! What can i do about it Mister Plaijur?!” —- Plaijur was not used to this…usually by now the drawings would run out the door, typically crying. Stelluna was asking for a way to prove herself.

He stayed silent for several moments, thinking. He turned to his desk and pulled out a card, red on either side, from a drawer under the table. Then he drew what appeared to be a wand on one of the sheets of paper.

“Herroi”

Plaijur took the wand from the table, handing both it and the card to Stelluna. “Come along.” He said leading the copy to a long moving sidewalk. —-

This is uncomfortable now. Plaijur handed me a stick with a star on it. Looks pretty rough…even considering the fact he literally slapped it together. Stranger still was the completely red card.

“My point still stands that i ultimately don’t care what you do now that you haven’t worked.” The no-legged cyclops jerk says. “But…if you can make me proud of you somehow, I’ll grant you your deepest desires.”

“How do i do that, Mister Plaijur?”

“Well, if you find someone interesting, use this card, particularly if they look like you. Try looking for something flying through space maybe.”

Why do I want to make Plaijur happy? Its not like he has done much for me…except create me, and bring me to life…he could have disposed of me if he wanted to, like that scribble trying to get out of the garbage next to his desk.

Also…Deepest desire? All i want is him to care about me….let me have a place to belong….Yeah!

“I’LL DO IT!”

We reach a door labeled “exit ”. Plaijur looks down at me with a faint, condescending interest. I feel the cold metal beneath my feet.

“That little wand will let you travel through space. Now get the f— out.” He says as he pushes me out the door.

I regain balance on a single platform as the door locks behind me. The massive metal wall of Plaijur’s home is behind me. But in front of me is an endless expanse dotted everywhere with stars and planets.

Space…

I sit down , putting my wand and card in my pockets, and hang my feet over the bottomless expanse. And then everything hits me.

I am now alone, disowned, left with no place to stay in front of the unknown.

The rising feeling bubbled up to my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I wail and gasp for air, despite there being none.

I briefly consider staying on this platform, hoping Plaijur might change his mind after time had passed and take pity.

I know he won’t, and It hurts…

I wipe my eyes after a while, sniffling. I calm myself down.

What should i do? Just go? How long will it take before i find some place…or if something finds me? Its terrifying to think about. But, then something catches my eye:

Something, I can’t tell what, is flying through space in the very far distance.

I scramble up to stand and make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. Something is definitely moving over there.

I cry again, but i feel light a weight is lifted. I take my shoddy-looking wand and point it forward, and just like that Im flying through space!

IT’S SO COOL! It feels like every awful feeling is being outpaced as i go. I feel like i have a chance now as i get closer and closer to the thing i saw flying through space.

-to be continued -

#purpose #story #monster #drawing #brought to life #plaijur #stelluna #piranhartist #copy #sad #hopeful #a purpose #part 1

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thoughtaftermind-blog · 6 years

Text

Bubby’s Apartment

Watching age take over

Bubby’s one-room apartment is where our family grew. The leather couch, sticky during the summer months, is where we reread the only two chapter books she owned. We’d walk through the small hallway, through the doorway with the needlepoint Mizrach sign, and look straight across the room to where we would find her. Bubby’s leather reclining throne sat in the corner. With one leg over the other, leaning toward the stand on the right, where her white corded-phone sat on the lace doily, she’d watch everything her eineklach did in the living room.

“Nisht mit di tzeiner,” she’d call across to whichever of us thought her observant smile wouldn’t catch us biting a lollipop.

When any of us were off from school, we’d spend it on the floor in front of Bubby’s fat-back video machine, learning about the president’s homes, devastating tornadoes, and whatever else was recorded on the stacks of National Geographic CDs that Bubby kept around for our sick days. In the place where she once looked after us, we have to look after her. Today, music plays from the large screen Yanky hooked up for her; in the early days of recent years, she would answer “amen” to the brachos of each wedding video she watched.

That’s the home I try to remember when I visit her apartment. I walk through the hallway and expect to find Bubby in her leather chair. I’m confused, like I have been every time for the past ten years, when there’s a medical grade chair with a hoyah lift instead.

Bubby doesn’t greet me and shuffle over to the kitchen in her robe to toast some rye bread for our lunch. She looks, eyes bright and empty, at the things that only she sees. When I bend near her chair to catch her gaze and say hello, she reaches her arm out. She’s not stiff and resisting like the tens of other times I’ve been by recently. Her fingers fold into mind naturally, softly.

My hand is turning white and red where her nails are digging in as she holds on, too tight. The pain of someone you love, the twinkle still in her eye, speaking to you with words no one understands anymore... What does this conversation mean to her? I piece together the syllables to form the sentences I want to hear.

Yes, the photos from Levi's wedding are beautiful. Your parents are so happy. Maidele, im yirtze Hashem by you.

My uncle Velly is on the couch, taking photos of her uncommon smile to post on WhatsApp. He suggests pulling her chair closer to the couch so that I can sit, but if I alter our stance, the gentle dance may break. What if she’s not ready to take my hand back? Instead of crying I crouch near her, legs going numb, hoping for him to leave to Maariv so that it's just me and Bubby. When no one is watching us, maybe I'll understand more.

Today, her good day, is harder than the ones when she pushes us away. She runs her fingers over mine, again and again. Years ago, these same hands reached into the coat closet to take some blue La-Hits from the top shelf, the secret hiding spot that she thought none of us knew about. The bright wrappers were iconic. If I peeked into her apartment on my way to school, she would give me a handful for my cousins. When I would find them in the hallway at recess and reach out with the blue chocolates, they knew who had thought of them that morning.

I looked for some La-hits in the grocery store one summer. I couldn’t find them at first because they were orange and gold; the blue wrappers gone. When I went to say collect kisses before leaving to camp that afternoon, Bubby called me someone else’s name for the first time.

The apartment didn’t change overnight. First there was the cardboard with the families’ numbers written with marker. Bubby couldn’t remember them on her own. Then Rochel took it down and pinned up a list of numbers directed at her caregiver instead.

It was Tatty’s ideas to hang a flip-book with the days of the week (in Yiddish for Bubby, in English for her caregiver) to remind her what day it was. Someone must have realized that they days don’t matter to her anymore on a Sunday, because the white booklet is paused on that page, turning gray and crusty on the shelf because no one flips it anymore.

Moving the table to the side of the room, the oval one were we sat at for french fries and plastic cups of stale Sprite every Motzei Shabbos, was a practical solution. Its gathering place in middle of the living room didn’t leave space for Bubby’s wheelchair to push past. “My cadillac,” is what she called the walker. When she got a motorized one with brakes, a “rolls-royce” joined the fleet of primary-colored wheelchairs and walkers parked against the shafehs.

If I close my eyes halfway and blur my vision, I can overlay the old apartment atop the new one, like those black and white images of famous landmarks hanging over their modern-day counterpart. The structure’s the same, the life’s changed.

I can tell myself that this isn’t who she always was. I can fade the world she lives in now behind the vibrant bubby we grew up with. For me, there were fifteen years before Alzheimer's took over. Gittel, my little sister, only had two. Her only image is that of the feeble woman, barely speaking, barely smiling, barely Bubby. I reconcile the grandmother we have with the one I grew up with. How can Gittel do the same when she’s got nothing to reconcile against?

Tatty doesn’t like when Gittel visits Bubby because he’d rather her hold on to what she had. The ache marbles with pity as I watch him watch her grow older.

Years ago Bubby came for Shabbos lunch, fifteen years after Zaidy Avraham passed away. She walked in the door, took off her fur-lined Shabbos jacket, and waved to my father across the room. “Hi, Avraham,” she called. The whirl of a busy house was suspended for a moment—thought held mid-air—and we looked from Bubby to Tatty and back again.

Bubby’s head arched downward and she spoke in a soft voice. “I meant Zalman.” She was ashamed of her mistake, of her waning memories. At least now she isn’t frightened, on the tightrope between two understandings anymore.

The silver leichter on the mantle above the video machine—she hasn’t lit it in years. The candelabra with one light for each child, similar to the ones she gifted each of her daughters-in-law, is missing the sheen of flames reflecting off the surface. One of the grandchildren stops by to light at least two of them each week, but it hasn’t been Bubby’s hand kindling, her brachos welcoming Shabbos.

The side table near the recliner in the corner is where Bubby’s Tehillim always sat. Most times that I walked in, she kissed it closed before looking up to greet me. Tatty said she finished the Tehillim each day. As a child who read five words a minute, I thought she was doing the impossible. As an adult who struggles through the monotony reading the sefer, I admire her.

Still crouched near her chair, I turn my head around the small room to find where the Tehillim is. It’s face-up atop Zaidy’s Shas on the middle shelf, far out of Bubby’s reach.

We believe in the value of a life and in the mitzvos gashmi that a person can accomplish each day. When Zaidy was in a coma before he passed, the uncles took turns driving to Manhattan before shkiya each day so that the could lay tefillin on his idle hands and head. That story validated the worth of the last years of his life because I knew that however painful for him and his family, Zaidy was accomplishing something each day. I look at Bubby, with her withered hands and still eyes—at the dulled leichter, the silent Tehillim—and wonder what mitzvah she still gets to do.

Hours later I wait on the couch while the caregiver takes Bubby for her bath. The photos on the walls around me are her story. The framed wedding shots, Rosh Hashanah cards tacked to the walls, graduation photos tucked into the corner of other frames—they are how we watched the family evolve. Even when Bubby is not in the photo, she’s the in the center of it. This apartment is where we grew and these people are who we grew into.

Nothing about this apartment is the same anymore, though. And remembering only reminds me. I want to move it back, to schlep the table back to the middle of the room, move the hoyah lift to the trash pile outside the building, place this worn Tehillim back on the side table, have my Bubby back in the world she loved us in. But the only thing I could do is sit at her dining room table and whisper the words of Tehillim from the Tehillim she used so well. I run my fingers through a few of the pages—ones Bubby must have covered hundreds of times—and then walk through the hallway and out the door. I don’t look around before I close the door behind me.

When it’s time for Bubby to go to bed and for me to go home, I walk out past the shelf with her Tehillim. I lift it with a full hand and turn back to the dining room table—the same one I played chess at with the cousins and studied for tests with friends.

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