#burn out forever or light up a spark: hannah

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

Fergus slowed to a stop carefully, gently knocking on the front door. He didn't want to alarm her any more than she already was. "Hannah? I brought the heavy blanket, as well as some snacks courtesy of Willa."

Hannah looks up from where she's curled up on the bed, still crying, a wreck from the discussion in the group chat. It had been exceptionally triggering and painful to get through, and then she'd snapped and now she was just so drained.

Sniffling, she forces herself to uncurl and get up, going over and opening the door for him, still shaking and crying, a total wreck. She looks up at him, shaking. "Tha-- thank--" She sniffles, her voice breaking with sobs.

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

“I’m… fine, really. It wasn’t as bad as it probably seems. Besides, I got woken up by Holly. It’s not a big deal.” Hannah shrugs and goes to put her earbud back in.

[spaceasshxle]

Double Solo Para: Not Alone

He’s the first and possibly the only one to notice her.

She’s short as hell and clearly scared out of her mind. No, that’s not right. She’s panicking, he notices as he cautiously approaches, gauging by her breathing. He’s careful not to rush to her now, waving from a distance when she looks to him.

Trembling, the very tiny goth nods, and he carefully approaches her, trying his best to not seem intimidatingly tall compared to her, but that’s incredibly difficult at 6′3″ especially compared to whatever she’s at.

She peers up at him through purple hair and he smiles reassuringly. “I’m James.  Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She pauses a bit and tries to take deep breaths. “Hannah. I-- I don’t...”

She’s clearly struggling to talk. He doesn’t put a hand on her at all but leads her to a bench and has her sit down, sitting with her when she nods that it’s okay. He keeps a reassuring look on his face. “It’s all right, Hannah. Look at me, hey...”

She turns to him, and he motions for her to take a deep breath, helping her count it out on the inhale and exhale both, taking her through quite a few and watching her slowly start to settle. “Keep breathing, but take a look around for me, all right? Look at where you are.”

Hannah nods, slowly looking around at the campus, still listening as he continues, “Don’t worry about the size or the people. Look at the buildings, take things in as slowly as you need. Where are you?”

“A-Auradon Prep,” she chokes out, and he nods reassuringly.

“As far as I’ve learned, there’s no place safer, all right, shortstack?”

“Don’t call me short,” Hannah looks back at him with a glare, and he holds up his hands.

“Okay, okay. Where were you heading originally?”

“I was heading to the cafeteria for lunch,” she slowly admits, and he smiles a bit.

“Want me to walk with you so you don’t have to be on your own?”

“...yes, please,” she begrudgingly warrants, and he nods, getting up and offering her a hand to help her up as well, which she accepts. “...thanks.”

“Anytime,” he answers, meaning it, even offering, “No, really. You want my number so you can text me if you need someone to accompany you somewhere? You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

And Hannah has a feeling she’ll take him up on it, so she accepts his number and walks with him, feeling somewhat safe having the 6′3″ guy watching out for her... strangely enough, given her own life.

As they walk, he looks back at her and chuckles. “You are short, though.”

“I am not! You’re just... freakishly tall!” Hannah glares up at him, crossing her arms. “Grr.”

He snorts a bit. “You sound like a puppy learning to bark.”

Swatting his arm, Hannah rolls her eyes. “Asshole.”

“Thanks,” he says, beaming with pride, which chokes a begruding chuckle out of her. Then, he adds, “Where are you from, Hannah?”

“Corona. Daughter of Queen Rapunzel and King Eugene. Don’t call me princess. I don’t use the title unless it’s necessary. What about you?”

“Sounds good, Hannah. I’m from the planet Montressor. Son of Jim Hawkins. I don’t use nicknames, only junior and only back at the Inn because there’s two of us, so stick to James.”

“All right, guess we’re at an agreement,” Hannah says, smiling softly.

“Seems we are,” he agrees. “You’ve got an... interesting sense of style. I take it that it’s related to the lack of use of your title?”

“In a way,” she admits. “I’d rather not talk about it all, if that’s all right.”

“Sure, not a problem,” he answers, smiling. “What do you do for fun?”

“I’m an artist,” she smiles. “You?”

“Solar surfing,” comes his answer, prompting her confusion which he notices. “Oh, it’s not really a thing on this planet. I have what seems like a normal surfboard, but it has a solar sail that collects energy and powers an engine on the end so I can fly through the air.”

Their conversation carries on before she realizes he’d led her to the student kitchen instead of the cafeteria. “Hey, this isn’t...”

“Nah, I can cook. I figured you might wanna stay out of that crowd in the cafeteria.”

“...thanks,” she says with a soft chuckle. The alien might make a pretty good friend... if she ever wanted to get close to someone in any way to make friends, anyways.

And James was thinking about the same. The tiny goth was an interesting person to talk to, and he didn’t normally like people but they did seem to get along almost... naturally.

[merbxtch]

Guest Solo Para: Play a Little Game With Me

First had been the nice girl with pink in her hair sissy introduced to him once. Peony. She had a flower name like sissy did. He remembered. Neptune had found her in a classroom, sleeping at her desk, and had quietly pushed the bag sissy had given him over by her head.

She seemed to settle a little bit when he did. He quickly backed out the door and carried on down the hall, stopping when he hears someone coming and ducking behind one of the bigger kids.

He blinks up at the girl walking by with curly blonde hair. He doesn’t like her. She looks mean. But not mean like how sissy looks mean or sissy’s special friend Sarah looks mean. They look mean, but they also look like they’d be nice to him, and they are.

She... doesn’t.

He doesn’t like her.

When she’s gone far away, he keeps on going, finding the girl with purple hair and all the sparkles on her face and pictures all over her arms asleep in her room. She’s crying when he finds her and lays the little bag on her tummy, wishing he could make her feel better...

Seeing a bag beside her, he bites his lip and opens it curiously. Maybe it’s like the bag mommy packs him with toys when they go on long trips? Most of the stuff looks boring... but then he finds a stuffed kitty cat that he gently picks up and squishes into her arms. She wraps her arms around it when she feels it.

He likes to think it helped. Heading out of there, he carries on down the hall, stopping and ducking around a corner when he hears someone running... but they stop and hide, too, from the sounds of things.

He just waits, peeking down the hall, ducking back when the short girl with a scared look on her face runs past him really fast and goes to one of the rooms. He wonders quietly what that was about but decides to keep going.

He finds himself near the room with all the instruments in his search, struggling to reach for the door handle before he gets it, pulling the door open... backing up and running away quickly.

Because none of sissy’s friends are in there but there are two people who are, they’re awake and sitting by the drums and hugging really tightly like something scared them and he doesn’t think they saw him.

Nobody comes after him to tell him the game is over, so maybe he did it.

Still looking. Still looking.

He finds the girl with the red cape not long or far from there. Mommy’s talked about her. She’s said bad things, lots of bad things.

But sissy never looked happy when she heard those bad things. And she was one of the people sissy was playing with. So he gently tucks the bag into her hand and runs away.

As he runs down the hall, he runs into another girl who’s already awake. She has a ponytail He stops short, and so does she, and for a moment he thinks he made sissy lose. But she looks around and doesn’t seem to see him, shaking her head and running along. She stops at a boy asleep on the floor and kneels down beside him, looking... confused, before she reaches up and holds his arm and goes still, her eyes closing and her head drooping a bit.

Okay. Weird. Not the time. As he keeps going though, he finds one of the last two people sissy sent him after.

He likes her. This is sissy’s special girlfriend Sarah. She did magic. Maybe that’s why it looks like she’s covered in ice. He reaches out and sets the bag with her, accidentally touching her hand. It’s cold. But nothing bad happens... she wakes up.

If she was on sissy’s team, she was allowed to see him, right? She looks around, looking dizzy, then narrows her eyes a bit. “Powers infernal, reveal to me, what being stands hidden in front of me.”

He doesn’t see anything, but then she asks, “Neptune?”

And he smiles and nods, but he doesn’t think she sees. But he quickly carries off again to find the last person on his list from sissy.

King Ben. He knows who he is, of course. But he doesn’t know WHERE he is.

He goes through the library out to the courtyard, stopping momentarily and peering up at a boy asleep at a table close to the library doors with another girl asleep beside him... before moving on quickly. Not him.

Where is he? He’s the last one he has to find for sissy to win the game. And he wants sissy to win the game.

He sees a big window up on the top floor of the office of the school, squinting up. Maybe he’ll see Ben from that office. Or maybe that will BE his office. He doesn’t know. But he has to try. So he starts off quickly for there.

Hannah stirs softly when Holly peers into her room. Waking up. Holly’s quick to move on, but privately, she’s relieved.

It means Neptune found her. He’s probably found the others. Hopefully, hopefully... hopefully, they’ll find the notes. She tucked a note into the drawstrings of the pouches so each of her friends knew what was going on when they woke up.

Hopefully, Neptune was doing the best job and was already back in her room and this would all be over soon.

But she keeps that reserved as she goes to find Celena to check in on the progress and probably lead her to Ben.

Celena cannot know.

Hannah swears she hears someone rush away when she wakes up.

Wakes up.

Her hand comes up to her hair, running her fingers through the ends. Short hair. Short, and purple.

She looks down at her arms, seeing her tally marks on her wrist, the crossed fingers with the rainbow bursting out of them she has that matches with Duke...

It’s real. Hannah clutches Kitty tightly.

Wait, Kitty? How did Kitty get in her arms? Kitty had still been in her bag.

Pulling the stuffy back, a small pouch falls into her lap. Picking it up, Hannah looks it over. Herbs? Wait...

Hadn’t Holly had a whole ordeal with a witch? The witch she claimed manipulated her but... knowing Holly, that could be a ruse to get her parents off her case.

She pulls the small note rolled up in the strings loose, uncurling it to read.

Hannah,

If you’re reading this, congratulations, you’re awake. There’s a lot going on; I don’t have time to explain. I’m a double agent to an evil fairy planning to overthrow Ben.

If you want to help, find Ben. If we’re not there yet, pretend to be asleep there. If you don’t, I wouldn’t fault you, especially in your shoes.

Love,

Holly

PS: I’m sorry. Please forgive me for this.

And... that, that she thinks, she can do. Hannah bites her lip... then stands up, brushing herself off and setting Kitty down on her bed.

Ben would be in his office.

She can at least go to get him the hell out of there when the time comes.

[void-adjacent-particles]

Content warnings: Death, gore, fire mentions, scars, murder, violence.

Totems of Undying are strange things. They’re warm, and will pulse in time to the heartbeat of whatever is holding them, emerald eyes glimmering even in the pure dark of the void’s absence of light. While Totems are made of gold, there is no malleability, they are as solid as bedrock. The emeralds and gold and magic have solidified into one unchangeable object until its use, and then it is gone.

They leave their mark on whatever uses them. For some this could be a prize, another thing to be proud of, because they survived the unsurvivable only through their own wits and forethought. To others it is a mark of shame, for ever having been in such a position to lose their life, even if it is only one of three.

On a specific server, there are those who have need for Totems in their long pasts, who have used them right before our eyes, and those who will surely use them in the future.

Technoblade was one such person to use one before our eyes. We saw him dragged from his home to a farce of a trial, facing justice on rigged scales for grievous cries nonetheless as he was pushed into a cage. The fall of the anvil, the crushing, crunching of a body that never seemed fragile until now when everyone witnessed its end. Then the sparkling cloud of green and yellow, bones clicking back in jigsaw puzzle pieces, the knitting of muscle and tendon and skin, and there is only a moment of paralyzing death before his heart skips a beat and he lives again. This is the prestige of his trick, no turn to raise suspense, and a pledge everyone who knew his name already was aware of, a promise and threat all in one that he always delivered on. Technoblade never dies, and he lives right now to kill again. Later he will be in his quaint cottage in the merciless tundra, and his own reflection will glitter strangely back at him, forcing him to examine himself instead of resting and trying to forget the lingering aches. He will stare as the night sky leaves the window more a mirror, lantern lights low, but the flashes catch his eyes anyway. His tusks, once white and bone, now seem to be fully made of gold. He taps one with his hoof, and feels the pressure reverberating subtly down into his jaws, as real as before. With a shrug, he moves his hoof away, only to watch as pink fur and skin split against the now razor sharp point of his tusks. Those tusks will remain as gilded as any enchanted apple, and as sharp as any netherite sword, until one day he will fail his audience, his pledge a battle cry he brings to one or more of his graves.

Quackity would covet a Totem in all of his paranoia, his fear of death and pain and losing even more than he already has. If he died, be it by pickaxe or nuke or strangling, desperate hands, the Totem would bring him back all the same. And all of his scars would ache in their newfound golden hue, shining and standing out even more as a testament to his inability to protect himself or what he loves. The scars would hurt, old and new, in warning of dangers to come. It only partly calms his paranoia, the fear ever present and simmering in the background of his mind, waiting to boil over and burn him.

When Tubbo or Tommy use their Totems of Undying they will appear unharmed. It is not until they bruise that it becomes obvious. A small bump against the corner of furniture, a tumble while out exploring the wild, a sharp elbow to the face, the blunt side of a weapon, they bruise the skin, blossoming into purples and dark indigos. They fade far too quickly, as if someone splashed healing potions on them. Yet then they stay at that disquieting green and yellow stage, where the next day it could appear as if they were never there, but they stay, shimmering slightly in the wrong lighting, still hurting as much as if they were fresh even weeks later. Only fading when forgotten about, and they have wonder if the bruise was ever there. If only they had Totems when they died before. Tubbo’s face would be a mess of bruised gold that would seep into the skin until only pink scar tissue remained, a starburst remnant of a festival’s fireworks, but he would still be alive, gasping for air and hunched over in that box, on that stage, but alive. Tommy would have handprint bruises around his neck, across the break in his nose, the imprint of a fist against his cheek that had whipped his head back too far, his neck slamming at the worst angle against the harsh obsidian walls. But he would have been alive, clawing his way back into life, latching his own hands around his killer’s throat, finishing the job, doing what should have been done instead of daring to imprison a dream.

George passes out if he uses a Totem. Instead of the rush of adrenaline, of life that floods the system of whatever uses one, it overwhelms to the point of just unconsciousness as his body repairs itself, fueled only by magic until his heart begins pumping and his lungs begin breathing again. Later when he wakes, maybe with cracked sunglasses, anyone who’s looking properly will see the dark bags under his eyes, a sheen of gold overlaying the dark purple of sleeplessness. When he sleeps it will be deeper, without dreams. Alarms and shaking won’t wake him. Nights will be sleepless as he examines the bags under his eyes, fretting over the burnt orange of the gold deepening, digging into his skin, around his eyes. He will continue to sleep, but days will pass, and when he wakes he wonders if next time he will simply be unlucky and sleep forever.

If Dream uses a Totem of Undying it will shatter him. He will feel every bone shake themselves into dust and back again, a glimpse of what everyone eventually returns to. His spine will burn with pain, arcing upwards to the base of his skull, spreading outwards like a deep set rot that always goes unnoticed until it is far too late and the structure crumbles. His mask shatters, likely from the final strike that killed him, but maybe just from his fall to the ground, a person one moment and a corpse the next, until the Totem brings him back. Gold lines every crack in the porcelain of his mask, across the monochrome of the glaze burned into it, bisecting an eye, a smile, a face. The green of him becomes so much more vibrant, deadly, similar to prey animals that evolve into their bright colors to indicate they are poisonous, saying if you kill me, I take you down with me.

If Niki ever uses a Totem, it would burn. She would feel it burning, more than the all encompassing pain of whatever killed her. Bright, sparking pain would race down her body, through every nerve, every blood vessel, until it was all she knew for that brief suspended moment on the precipice between life and death. She would grit her teeth through the pain, eyes narrowed as she reeled back from the magical force, only to march onward in doing whatever was necessary to achieve her goal. Later she would be looking at her hands, washing off blood real or metaphorical, and see that instead of chipping nail polish in whatever color of her choice, instead her nails would be intact, a brilliant gold. Nails that would make her appear vain, still absorbed with one final thing, or simply clinging to it. Nails that would sharpen into what some might call claws, digging into the fine wooden handles of her weapons, scoring lines that would never go away, even if the nails would upon her death.

If Hannah ever uses a Totem of Undying it will react strangely to her innate magic. Plants die off, withering away, leaving just the roots, the basis of their whole survival, to lie in wait underground until the rain falls again and the sun shines again. Any of her wounds will bloom with roses, the flowers ragged, shaped like bloodstains, but every leaf and petal will be edged with gold. The greenery of her roses’ vines will brighten and soak up sunshine more than ever, revitalizing her until her heart aches with it, until she finally lets fate claim the life stolen from it.

If Puffy ever uses a Totem of Undying, she wouldn’t notice side effects at first, aside from the usual anguish and pain from having died. The likely conflicts she had thrown herself into out of duty would capture her attention anyway, away from examining herself for any lingering problems. It wouldn’t be a problem anyway, not until she looked in the mirror and saw that all of her greying hairs from stress became gold, her mass of curls even heavier, no lock of hair without its reminder, its own thread of gold to weave into thick hair. Later, in a moment of true rest, when someone runs their hands through her hair, braiding it or simply trying to calm her, they would find that every golden thread burns and tries to tie itself around their hands, keeping them there, keeping them at her side where they could be safe.

If Antfrost or Fundy ever use a Totem, it settles on their skin like a weighted blanket, forcing their muscles to accommodate, forcing them to make room in their lives for the extra chance they stole. Later, when they rest, so much more tired with their aching bodies, they will curl up in the sunshine wherever they feel safest. When the sunlight catches just right, beige or burnt orange fur glimmers like a pelt of gold. Any breeze would be unable to rustle fur, their bodies motionless and unmovable as any statue, their breathing far shallower and subtler than ever before. If one wasn’t watching close enough, they’d assume there was a corpse just curled in the sunlight, begging for a final bit of warmth before letting go. They will start awake from nightmares with a hiss, and stretch out in the dying light to go pretend like they don’t feel that extra life weighing on them.

Phil only has one life to lose, and so he holds Totems close to his heart, always just one movement away from being clutched as the lifelines they are. When he’s killed holding one, wings splayed, feathers falling from the force of his death, mouth open and choking on last breaths, his death will hurt.  It will always hurt, the moment stretching through his lived centuries and snapping back into the present, so much life to flash before his eyes that they are rendered sightless and glassy, death clouding them greedily. Flashes of gold and emerald green dance on the sheen of inky feathers and glossy eyes as dead as a doll’s. When he lives again, his wings will no longer be the cape of shadows, the midnight extensions of self that they once were. His secondary feathers will be golden now, shining in the sun, always growing back that same shade. Those gilded feathers will just be another thing his murder of crows hoards, another shiny object, but to Phil it will be a permanent reminder of how he has always only had one life, and how fleeting it is.

If Wilbur got his hands on a Totem, he would never let it go. To die again and again and again, to suffer through the agony of an eternal listless limbo, to suffer again as he is replaced by a mockery of himself… he could not stand for it. So he never lets go of the Totem in hand, his thumb worrying over the facets of its emerald eyes when he thinks, nails breaking against the rigid golden effigy. There are many reasons he would die, several from his own actions, as it was before. If he did die, he would wake choking on blood and tears, hacking and wheezing and lacking all the grace and charm he once had. It wouldn’t be until he coughed once again into his hands that he would see his blood, no longer a dull red, now glimmering and golden. And he laughs, as he now resembles a god in all but the immortality, his blood turned to ichor in its molten sunlight, its deep dark shades of beauty and riches, and he keeps choking on his blood as the Totem works still to restore a body dead for the fourth time.

When Ranboo uses a Totem of Undying the magic will seep into his skin, counteracting strangely with his biology, trying to strengthen him, trying to mark him however it can. So the short black velvet of fur he received from enderman genetics will spread, the skin and fur stronger, in hopes of protecting him. It seeps like ink, a slow spread that burns as if trails of water settled on his skin. It hurts, and he hides for days, coming out with his green eye just a bit brighter, black crawling up the white side of his jaw like an outstretched hand. His own hand will reach out, and under the white skin on his forearm will be golden veins, burning with life stolen from a Totem. He forgets using Totems every time he does, the experience is so jarring and intense as it changes the fiber of his being, as with every use he appears more enderman than whatever else he is. One day, far in the future when he goes by another name, he will look in the mirror and see two emerald green eyes, his entire body the black void of fur his endermen kin have. 

Foolish is a being whose entire being had always been defined by death. Once, it was the carnage, the lives lost in droves, sent into Her embrace prematurely in their violent ends. Then Foolish changed and became a Totem of Undying himself, a god now more mortal than even he knew by resisting his domain. When he died the denial was almost too much to bear, the Egg trying to worm its way into his mind when it realized this weakness, a grief for what he lost. If he dies again, he will likely have a Totem in hand, maybe even one of his children, held close as he fears an end, selfishly cannibalizing the life force of one of his own in order to extend his last two lives. There will be no markings from the Totem. He is already one of them, eyes of gemstone and skin of metal, created and made of that space between life and death, the lull after a last heartbeat when the next is expected, the resting note in the song of life that he has conducted himself, has cut short himself, destroying all in his path without a single goal in mind in his times as a Totem of Death. There is no scar or blood or feathers or bruise to mark him, because he is a Totem. A Totem given sentience and life, given free will and thought, but at the end of the day a living doll, and the now lifeless, apathetically terrified look in Foolish’s emerald eyes is enough to show just what measures he took in order to survive another death.

[macbetha]

below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

[bigprincess-energy]

Just soft orphydice, anything, just soft orphydice

hannah-joy you beautiful, wonderful bouquet of springtime wildflowers you! I hope this is soft enough for you!! 

Eurydice always struggled to sleep during the winter. The warmth of walls, blankets, and of course the arms of her lover provided some comfort, but the habit formed over years of huddling into one’s self to avoid the harsh chill of the wind would take time to fade away. The cold tip of Orpheus’ nose awoke the young woman, memories of rainwater dripping down and assaulting her skin as she fought to survive previous winters’ nights flooding her mind. Here, there was no storm brewing above, just her sleepy husband pulling her closer into him in his sleep. It wasn’t fair, no one should look at beautiful as Orpheus did while he slumbered. Eurydice wanted to stay in bed with him, to count his freckles and eyelashes until her eyelids grew heavy and sleep found her once more. Even with the sanctuary of a home and Orpheus’ warmth, Eurydice found herself shivering, teeth chattering from the December air seeping through invisible gaps between the outside world and their bed.

The room was almost pitch black, there was no moon in the sky to pour through the window and cast light upon the sleeping lovers. In the hearth of their home, a few embers from the evening’s fire twinkled like fading stars. Unable to face the cold any longer, she slipped out of Orpheus’ embrace and out of their bed, wincing as her toes made contact with the cold floor. Wrapping herself in one of the many blankets piled atop her sleeping husband, she silently crept towards the fireplace, moving with care and precision to avoid any creaky floorboards or discarded items left on the floor, a problem for tomorrow. Usually, she would carry firewood three or four logs at a time, despite her small stature she was strong. But tonight, she carefully picked up each log, paying great attention to the game of Jenga she was playing with the logs trying not to make more noise than absolutely necessary.

Once several logs were set in their new home, Eurydice attempted to light a match, but her fingers fumbled. Normally, her fingers were quick and nimble a flame burning the tip of the wooden stick with only a few quick swipes, but tonight the chill in the air caused her fingers to become stiff. They ached with each match that followed. As she struggled, her mind wandered back to the fateful night she had first met Orpheus. Stepping into a strange bar, desperate for a match so she could light her candle. She needed light to survive the darkness, little did she know she would go home with the sun that night. Orpheus had later told her he had desperately patted himself down for a match that evening, disappointed he was unable to be the one to light her candle. This comment was met with a laugh from the girl and a sincere promise from the boy that from here on out, he would always have a match for her.

And now, here she sat on the floor, fingers trembling as she tried once more to spark a flame. Please, please, please! Eurydice thought to herself as she struck the match against the box for what felt like the millionth time. She knew the gods rarely listened to the prayers of the desperate, they had not listened during the darkest of times, why would they listen now? Still, Orpheus had taught her to hope. With the last of her will succumbing to the cold Eurydice called out to anyone, the sky, the universe, the gods with a final plea. PLEASE!

Maybe it was a literal stroke of luck but with her final strike, the match ignited. The soft orange glow and smell of smoke took Eurydice by surprise, so much so that she almost dropped the match before she could light the fire. It took a moment but the tiny flame soon developed into a small fire, crackling and sparking before Eurydice. It was intoxicating to watch, the graceful dance of the flames, how the vibrant hues of orange, yellow, red, and blue intertwined with each other. There was also the heat, of course, radiating outward. Fingers still shaking, Eurydice reached out over the flames and warmed her hands, sighing with relief as the numbness faded away.

*** 

Orpheus awoke in a panic. Their bed was empty, Eurydice was gone. He had experienced this nightmare before, the one when doubt crept in and echoed around his mind until he looked behind him and lost his lover forever, forcing him to return to the world up top alone and a failure. The boy shot up in bed immediately, pawing around blindly for her, longing - no, needing to feel her presence next to him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, when the world finally came into focus he noticed a figure sitting in front of the fireplace in their home, illuminated by the soft glow of a fire. Softly Orpheus called out, his voice cracking slightly, “Eurydice?”

The figure shifted around, looking over its shoulder. Instantly the figure was no longer a strange dark shape but instead his lover, bundled up in a blanket with a soft smile and apologetic eyes.

“Oh shit lover, I am so sorry, did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet. I-I just got cold.” She explained, gesturing towards the fire.

 Instantly Orpheus was out of bed, his long legs carrying his body to her in just a few steps. Instead of responding to her question, he simply sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her with such desperation it caused Eurydice to raise an eyebrow with concern.

 “Lover, is everything okay?” She questioned scooting back against him, eyes frantically exploring his features for an explanation.

 “I just got scared when you weren’t there,” Orpheus said finally, reaching his hand out to caress her cheek. Eurydice blushed slightly at his tender touch, leaning into the physical contact.

 “I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before intertwining their fingers. “But I’m right here, I’m right beside you love. I promise.”

 Shifting around slightly Eurydice moved the blanket so it was draped over Orpheus’ shoulders. She could hold the edges around them as she sat in his lap, his chin resting in the crook of her neck. The couple sat and watched the fire burn, holding each other in comfortable silence, the only disruption an occasional crackle sounding from the hearth.

***

Orpheus awoke first to a terrible crick in his neck. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the boy realized that he and Eurydice had fallen asleep in front of the fire. Looking down he saw his wife, curled up in his lap sleeping soundly. He wanted desperately to move, to stretch out his aching bones and apologize to them for his sleeping position, but nothing could bring him to wake her, especially with sleep being such a rare and valuable commodity in their home. There he sat, gently stroking Eurydice’s hair to the rhythm of her breathing, simple and steady. In front of him, lingering embers lay in piles of ash, the last of their light flickering out as the sunlight began to stream in through the window. 

[emptywithout]

4 Hours

Words: 426

Warnings: witch spell, Dean in trouble, blood

Dean approached room 237 cautiously, gun drawn. He saw shadows moving behind the curtain and took a deep breath. He was about to save Sam. He knew it. He just needed to get to the witch and –

“Winchester!” The door flew open and a short woman with red hair jumped out. She was very ordinary looking, actually. Just some 40-year old regular person - except obviously she was far from it. Her arms flung out in front of her. a spark of light coming from her fingertips. Dean was knocked backwards but quickly recovered, raising his gun again. This was one powerful witch. Dean knew he wasn’t prepared for someone like her.

“Oh you won’t kill me. I’m sure you’re here because of little Sammy? Unfortunately, he got away from me right as I was about to cast my spell. He’s probably dead by now, yes? I hope it was horrible. I tried to make sure it would be quite painful. I hope it was agonizing.” She laughed.

Dean’s eyes started to burn and he knew the witch had cast a spell over him, too.  He knew he was running out of time, he had to get control again.

The witch continued. “I’m really quite upset he managed to get away from me – I’m not sure how - But that doesn’t matter. You’re a Winchester, you will do. It’s not the vessel I wanted, though. Lucifer’s vessel is much stronger than Michael’s. Not by much, but you know…I guess beggars can’t be choosers. I already have enough money to get out of here, thanks to your brother. All I need to do now is take control of your vessel and we’ll be on our way.

“We?”

“Oh yes, Dean,” she said. “You will be with me for quite some time. But don’t worry. Soon you’ll forget all about who you are, what you do - you’ll even forget your Sammy. You’ll be all mine.”

Dean found himself pulled into the room. He was unable to fight it. His eyes burned so much they were tearing up and he could barely see. Forget everything? No! He had to get out of here!

“What did you do to me?” Dean yelled as the door closed behind him.

“Oh, nothing yet, my dear.” She picked up the rope and smiled. “But we’re about to get started. I do need your blood, since your brother spilled all of his in his escape, but that will only take about an hour. Let’s get you hooked up.”

Dean found himself unable to fight back. He just did everything she told him to, and he was easily tied up. She cut his arms with a silver ornate knife – Dean didn’t recognize the carvings, but he was sure it only meant evil.

**

His blood was draining slowly, dripping out of both his forearms.Dean recognized all the items from the hardware store. She was definitely planning this for a long time. How did she know where they were? Had she been following them? Who was she?

He couldn’t break free from whatever hold she had on him, no matter what he tried. He was running out of time, how had he gotten himself into this?

He started to get light headed from blood loss.

Dean’s watch beeped. 4:37

SQUEE’S SUPPORTERS TAG LIST:

On the forever list: @karategirl80 @ravenangel33  @sabath68 @hannahindie  @jessikared97 @jessyackles @yo-high-functioning-sociopath  @oneshoeshort   @sageclover61  @charliebradbury1104 @rideandwritethings @sammyimpala-67 @thatonetuesdaywhensam @depressed-moose-78  @ronja-uebrick @imgetting2old4diss  @impala-dreamer @mishasorangeundies   @bohowitch    @crazyismyownreality  @mrswhozeewhatsis @samuletkeeper   @ultimatefandomtrash61 @deathtonormalcy56 @bellarium   @adoptdontshoppets @melbelle45  @kunnigr @impandagrl @wendibird @closetspngirl  @flirtswithdanger @bunnybaby121115 @internationalmusicteacher @avocadobandana @pretty-fortune @dreaminblue67 @sea040561 @winchesterlovinspn @mirandaaustin93 @tatertot1097

Everything but wincest @schizonephilim @crossroadsangelcastiel @paigums

Everything but wincest and destiel  @emoryhemsworth  @deansgirl215 @hidinginmybochard  @ellen-reincarnated1967

No dean x reader, wincest, or destiel @charlie-bradburyss

Everything but destiel: @nanzm @super-hannah-natural @dean-winchesters-bacon

Samwena and Destiel. No Wincest or reader insert @shadowpaintedrose

[dunyashas]

socnet members as wolfpupy tweets?

DIME LIONS

sage, @cristinarosales = just want to thank everyone who gave me money. everyone else, eh, not a big fan

marisa, @colmfahey = contrary to what i originally thought, aquariums, the zoos of the sea, are the worst place to shoot guns off for no reason

lacie, @nestha = i am planning the greatest heist of all. im going to steal...your heart “awwww” and sell it on the black market [darkness, you wake up in ice]

julie, @ghansey = i dont “say what we are all thinking” because my thoughts are always far more important and more interesting than everyone elses

danni, @kuweiyulbo =  some people have all the luck, while others have none of the luck. us with the no luck should band together and burn the ones with the luck

em, @azqaban  = i got you a candy necklace as a present but then something happened so i got you this string instead

nox, @canaries =  people often say at me various words or whatever, and to me this is such a waste of time, i have better things to hear, like my own thoughts

anees, @chrjshemsworth  = is this too long for a bumper sticker “drama free? that aint me. got no problems? i will cause them”

sal, @rhysavd = a wolves only weapon is its sharp teeth, unless it finds a knife or a gun somewhere

maggie, @korolrenzi = hate when people say im lurking in the shadows when im just chilling

BLACK TIPS

jenna, @stadwatch = they should hire me to shoot the holes in the donuts with my cowboy gun not ban me from the store, the ways of the old west are dieing out

karla, @gabelightwood  = if anyone wants a troll doll with a switchblade in place of hair you are out of luck, my webstore has been shut down by a witchs curse

talya, @brekkerskaz =  i am putting a ribbon in my hair to raise awareness of the cause of me looking so cute

bri, @inkheart = i haven’t kept up with the cowboy scene, is the wild west still around

alex, @morozovas = seems to me if we all worked together to make my life better then eventually everyone elses lives would get better at some point probably

shannon, @rencrown =  i’ll tell you one thing, just because it is the least amount of thing i can tell

anniek, @jesperwylan  = you can take our lives but you can never take my spicy sassy attitude

ewa, @dorrianngray = you have a bullet with my name on it? wow that is so nice thank you

cas, @rietvelds = This Guy Pet A Dog And Utterly Killed It, I Meant He Was Really Good At Petting The Dog But It Came Out Wrong, The Dog Is Fine

carissa, @elainarch = lighting a candle for my enemies, a weakness candle. hope you like feeling weak [shotgun blast sound effect]

DREGS

ellie, @druskeles = don’t count chickens before they hatch, thats what i always say, even if situations where its not relevant

adira, @icecourt =  after i fully embraced the gothic halloween style i destroyed my enemy’s gravestone with strong punches and changed my name to Motorcycle

bea, @aurror = signature criminal move: twirling a metal chain around and then brushing it through my hair

faye, @kevlnday = im a diva who doesnt care about the consequences

hannah, @danswilds  = i guess its time to get real for a minute, it was me who caused all that trouble on jurassic island not the dinosaurs

nicole, @vlctorvale = the flames represent my fiery personality, the sparks represent my natural sparkle. so in a way crashing your car into the lightpost was art

han, @matthiashelvar =  a grizzled veteran fashion police officer sees one of the worst fashion disasters of his career “i’m too beautiful for this shit”

silvia, @grishae = inventory: a polly pocket with a switchblade inside of it. a troll doll with a switchblade instead of hair. 6 moonstones. a regular switchblade.

vikki, @nightcovrt = tired of people always telling me go to the hospital and that i’ve lost a lot of blood, its my severe head injury not yours stay out of it

RAZORGULLS

tracey, @merchlings = therefore anyone who continues to say things at me like i am at fault for anything can kiss the business end of my ass

delya, @ghaafas = until i can have a bow in my hair that can be turned into a mini crossbow no one gets to be happy

audrey, @kihlorn =  “i don’t think....” yeah you don’t think. i on the other hand, am constantly thinking, various thoughts and ideas, as a genius of intelligents

maggie, @fleurdalacour = my big sunflower hat got stuck in the vents while we were crawling through them for the stealth mission. we have to go back

valentina, @foresteign = some say killing people is the answer to the problems, me personally i think killing people is bad to do because im not a horrible monster

mana, @wyvils = okay how much is a bird in the hand really worth, this is time sensitive, wild flapping

amy, @blaisez =  penny for my thoughts? not on my watch, you want the words from my head you better pony up the big cash

aaliya, @sapnos = the sun is going down. this is a threat

nicole, @cressdarnells = for what ever reason we now have a whole lot of sequins as a result of an elaborate jewel heist, in my defence they looked pretty expensive

bonus: dev, @dunyashas = wow i’ve never thought about it like that before. and i never will. i’ve already forgotten what you said, good bye forever

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

"Sweetheart, hey, I'm here, it's Willa," the werewolf said, crouching down near Hannah. "Willa's here, sweetie."

She looks up, sniffling, curling up tightly. Willa? Willa. She reaches out weakly. Willa means safe. Willa's here. Willa.

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

Flashback Closed Starter: At Last I See the Light (Hannah/Hannah’s Friends)

Hannah chews her lip as she opens the box from home. It had arrived a couple days ago, and she’d known immediately what it would be. Humming softly as she gently pulls out the lanterns, she can’t help but smile to herself a bit.

In some ways it’s all bittersweet. She misses home, and the festival and celebration that they’d have. But... she was excited to have her friends here with her. It was... it was worth it. Weighing the pros and cons, it was worth it.

Hannah turns at some noise, raising an eyebrow at Holly and Audrey. “Uh...?”

“Oh, come on, baby girl, did you really think we weren’t gonna decorate the courtyard for your birthday?” Holly laughs as the pair walk over, arms full of as much as they could carry of the decorations they’d picked up with the others.

@bxrn-thc-pxgcs​​

[fbismostunwanted1158]

Nine Months (NC17)

Holy Hannah, this thing is a beast. Because I’m an attention whore and need to feel like my story is actually okay and going somewhere, I’m going to post the first three chapters of this story I’m in the process of getting out of my brain and onto paper. 

Tell me what you think. It’s not Beta’d. There may be several mistakes and crappy sentences, but it’s in the infant stage, pardon the pun. 

I always feel like there’s not enough Janeway x Chakotay that deals with pregnancy/children. I’m a sucker for that stuff, and I *know* that Kathy and Chuckles had at least one of them. lol. 

The title is a work in progress; I know it’s so original. This story has probably been done before, but here’s my take. This is Chapter 1. And it is not safe for work or the wee ones. 

What if our command team got it on during their stay on New Earth and somebody’s birth control booster was out of whack? Eh? Working on the canon timeline with non-canon material. 

Conception: Resolutions

“Is that really an ancient legend?”

Kathryn watched the smile fade from his face and his voice became low and serious.

“No. But that made it easier to say.”

Her walls crumbled with his blunt statement. Did he love her back? Could she even admit to herself that she loved him?  She searched desperately for anything to break the tension, but only three dangerous words rested at the tip of her tongue. She could feel the hot tears streaking down her face; undeniable by that point.

He grinned affectionately as she lifted her hand to meet his, linking her small chilled fingers with his strong warm ones. The connection sparked between their skin and sent a shiver down her spine. Desire shined in the dark depths of his eyes, drawing her in even more than they usually did.

He rose to move around the table, still holding her hand in his, and their gaze remained locked as he knelt on the floor beside her. Kathryn turned her body toward him, her knees brushed against his body and a hesitant hand warmed her thigh.

Kathryn dropped their joined hands, only to frame his face and stroke his cheeks. She gave a small chuckle when his beloved dimples emerged beneath her fingers. An overwhelming sense of tenderness swelled within her, making her heart race.  

He removed her hands from his face, leaning further into her personal space. Taking the hint, she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his; an experimental kiss that conveyed all the emotions that were warring inside of her.

Chakotay gently pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, breath mingling, as the next step was calculated. Kathryn took the lead and brought his face to meet hers once more. This time, passion burned through her lips and scorched his. Her tongue ran languidly along his bottom lip and drew it into her mouth, sucking on it as hard as she could.

There was no stopping the undignified groan that erupted from deep within his chest. She swallowed the sound as he twined his hand into her hair and forced the kiss to deepen. Searing and open mouthed; they continued to devour each other.

Chakotay stood and swept everything off the table, effortlessly lifting Kathryn to sit on the edge of it. Kathryn gasped as he firmly set her on the cold surface. Her core pulsed as he stepped purposefully between her legs.

He covered her body with his, brushed her hair to one of her shoulders, and began to suck at her flushed neck. Kathryn’s breath left her in a rush, leaving her light-headed. As she reclined in his embrace, Chakotay deftly unbuttoned her blouse and pressed wet kisses along her collar bone.

A strong hand splayed across her lower back and supported her decent to the table. The work his mouth was doing sent her stomach into spasms. It had been so long since she had been touched, cared for, not as a captain, but as a woman.

The tender loving brush of his calloused hands over her bare skin unwound the last bit of control she was clinging to. Kathryn pressed against him and Chakotay froze instantly, frantically searching her face for an explanation or rejection.

“Pants. Off. Now.”

Relief flooded through him as he huffed a laugh and happily obliged, pinning her with a look that made arousal sing through her veins.  

“Yours too,” his breathlessness spoke to his need for this, almost as much as the sizeable erection he was sporting.

Kathryn purred as he deftly helped her shimmy out of her bottoms, exposing her molten center to the cold crisp air. He pulled her to the edge and lowered himself in front of her sex. The feeling of absolute exposure while his hot breath ghosted across her sensitive skin became too much for her to handle. Just as he was bringing his mouth to meet her flesh, her legs clamped shut.

Chakotay emerged from behind her shaking knees and rubbed a reassuring hand along her thighs. He rose a questioning eyebrow that would make Tuvok beam with pride.

“I-I’ve never. I don’t think I could. Just—not yet.”

He smiled softly, shook his head while dropping a kiss onto her left knee.

“That’s fine. We will have plenty of time to explore and get to know one another,” he punctuated every few words with a kiss working his way up her body, “I want you to be comfortable and know that I do this out of love, not lust”.

A few more tears escaped from her eyes as his mouth met hers once more in a slow tender kiss. The heat returned with their warring tongues. Kathryn began to rock slowly against him, reveling in the sigh it drew from the body above her.

She locked her ankles around his hips and he slid his arms beneath her shoulder blades. Taking the silent cues, her arms wound around his neck, exhilaration burning through her while he carried her to his bed. It was small, but it would have to do for the time being.

The moment he set her down, his fingers were dancing on her clit. He listened intently to the patterns of her breathing and the keening noises that were trapped in the back of her throat. Chakotay brought his mouth to one of her rosy nipples and began to pull on it intently.

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. I want to know what I do to you.”

His rough voice sent renewed heat straight to her groin and she yelped as a broad finger entered her. She released the obscene moan that had been building for about a year and a half. Sparks flew across her nerve endings as his finger pumped into her tight opening.

“More,” she grunted.

He added a second finger and she couldn’t help but to arch into the contact. He hungrily bit at her collarbone, absolutely loving the way that his pristine ‘captain’ was frantically fucking herself on his fingers. The painful throbbing in his cock reminded him of his great need to be inside of her.

Hoping to move things along, he began to rub his thumb roughly against her swollen nub. He felt her walls ripple against his fingers and winced as her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. Chakotay leaned back to watch as the orgasm spread across her face.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Just as he was about to inquire about her state of mind, Kathryn grabbed the base of his penis and guided him to her dripping entrance. He was practically panting as she lazily smeared his length with her wetness.

He looked into her eyes, asking for permission. She bit her lip and brought him in for another mind-blowing kiss.

“Now,” she husked into his ear, “I need you now”.

Without hesitation, he surged into her. The faster and deeper he moved, the harder she met his thrusts. He could feel the telltale tightening in his groin as she began to flutter against him. She cried out and clenched around him. The sensation was exquisite. Chakotay buried his face into the crook of her lavender scented neck and roared as he finally spilled himself deep inside her.

He moved to roll from her, but she held him in place. Cradling him in her embrace and running her hands over his scalp and across his back.

“Stay. Just for a moment,” she whispered and brushed a kiss against his temple.

“I’ll stay,” he pulled her with him and maneuvered her to lay atop his chest, “Always. I will stay”.

That night they made love, again and again. Mapping each other’s bodies. Cataloging the sighs and moans that only served to fuel the fire. Both knew that they could spend the rest of their life discovering the strong connection between them.

The next day was declared a day of ‘rest’. It consisted of sex, fresh fruit, strolls through the forest, and more sex. Kathryn’s heart was full and content to let go of her worries and doubts and allow herself to love this man that the cosmos had gifted her with. And open herself to be loved in return.

A week later, a message from Tuvok crushed Kathryn’s most beautiful dream. How could she go back to the way things were?

A silent tear slipped from her eye as her tomato garden and her happiness shimmered out of sight. Forever.  

[xxashes-rebornxx]

Rebirth ||Drabble||

((Very light Canon x OC. Don’t like? Don’t read!))

______________________________________________

Hannah could feel herself slipping away now - a great relief compared to the pain she just been victim too. The flames had eaten away at her and now she would be able to rest. The stinging pain of her burns encompassing half of her body was fading as the minutes passed by.

But still Hannah managed to open her eyes, gazing up at her lover who wept salty tears at the tragedy that had befallen both of them. Loki, who’d shown her a whole new world of possibilities - taught her more than she could ever possibly know had they never met.

Hannah wished he could join her on this final journey - to stay together - but that was impossible.

Gathering what little was left of her strength; Hannah managed to carefully caress the Trickster God’s cheek as she lay in his arms dying. He’d be the last thing she’d get to see... and she was happy with that slight mercy.

“I love you, Loki...” the brunette choked out. “Forever and always...”

Their promise flowed off her tongue just as she had the night prior and tears welled in her eyes at the realization that this was the last time she’d ever get to utter those words to him.

...Or so she thought.

Hannah watched as the grey ebbed its way up her body - starting from her toes and ending at the top of her head - and fell away as ash, lost amidst the other scattered ashes that were once her home and people and staining Loki’s hands the same shade of grey.

However; Hannah’s consciousness was not erased even with this event. Instead, she seemed to stay there. She could see the world around her - blurry as if in a dream - and could see as her lover left her side for the first time since their fated meeting. It broke her heart to watch... but what other alternative did she have?

Simple - this one.

The following feeling set Hannah’s soul into panic. It was as if she were bound tightly with chains or some other kind of restraint. The feeling pulled back down to the Earth she’d come from, back down to her ashes.

Hannah would’ve screamed if she could, the feeling of her body being pieced back together being far from a pleasant one. It was like reliving the fire all over again. Like her insides were on fire!

It felt like forever but only lasted for a little over a minute. The once mortal girl sat confused and in shock amongst the flames her resurrection had sparked. The feeling of flames had not left her, but instead of the awful burning felt more akin to a gentle warmth that flowed through her very veins - a stream of pure power.

When the realization of what had just occurred finally hit her; Hannah stood upright from the flames, her eyes darting frantically as she searched for her lover.

“Loki?” she called out, her voice feeling unfamiliar to her at first.

“LOKI!!!” 

For it is said that Phoenix are always reborn from their ashes.

[kidsviral-blog]

91 Enduring And Beautiful Quotes About Love

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/91-enduring-and-beautiful-quotes-about-love/

91 Enduring And Beautiful Quotes About Love

Because “love is not about staring at each other, but staring off in the same direction.”

We asked the BuzzFeed Community to share their favorite quotes about love. Here are some of the most beautiful replies.

1. “In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” –Maya Angelou Suggested by Megan Rose S. via Facebook

2. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” —Emma, Jane Austen Suggested by Rachael C. via Facebook

3. “Even after all this time? Always.” –J.K. Rowling Suggested by Brittney R. via Facebook

4. “The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare Suggested by Sarah S. via Facebook

5. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” –Emily Bronte Submitted by Jessica H. via Facebook

6. “Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.” –Matt Groening Submitted by Courtney E. via Facebook

7. “Find what you love and let it kill you.” –Charles Bukowski Submitted by Pay A. via Facebook

8. “We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, so when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness; and then we call it love.” –Dr. Seuss Submitted by Kristen R. via Facebook

9. “cannot fix on the hour, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.” —Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Submitted by Mayra A. via Facebook

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Alice Mongkongllite / BuzzFeed.com

10. “Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.” “Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?” “Yes. I want to ruin you.” “Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.” —Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway Suggested by Kaylee W. via Facebook

11. “And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. —The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran Suggested by Amanda C. via Facebook

12. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.” –Shakespeare Suggested by Krysten M. via Facebook

13. “When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.” —The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran Suggested by Carla D. via Facebook

14. “Well you may not be beautiful, but it’s not for me to judge. I don’t know if you’re beautiful because I love you too much.” –“Asleep and Dreaming,” The Magnetic Fields Suggested by Amanda M. via Facebook

15. “I believe love is always eternal. Even if eternity is only five minutes.” —Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories, Sandra Cisneros Suggested by Sarah O. via Facebook

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Alice Mongkongllite / BuzzFeed.com

16. “Love is not about staring at each other, but staring off in the same direction” –Antoine de Saint Exupéry Suggested by Kristyn M. via Facebook

17. “For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.” –Carl Sagan Suggested by Carolyn P. via Facebook

18. “To love another person is to see the face of God.” –Victor Hugo Suggested by Haley F. via Facebook

19. “You remind me of a poem I can’t remember, and a song that may never have existed, and a place I’m not sure I’ve ever been to.” –Grandpa Simpson, The Simpsons Suggested by Georgina G. via Facebook

20. “What is love but a prelude to sorrow…with heartache ahead for your goal.” –“Blue Prelude,” Nina Simone Suggested by Justin Paul J. via Facebook

21. “Please know whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.” —Mouthful of Forevers, Clementine von Radics Suggested by Andrea A. via Facebook

22. “No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.” —The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald Suggested by Anne C. via Facebook

23. “Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.” –Pablo Neruda Suggested by Allison Y. via Facebook

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24. “Out of all those kinds of people, you got a face with a view.” –“This Must Be the Place,” Talking Heads Suggested by Zoë L. via Facebook

25. “Were not there you, I’d be not too.” –Karen Marie Moning Suggested by Sarah L. via Facebook

26. “I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love.” ―Francois Sagon Suggested by Holly N. via Facebook

27. “All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes. They’re all I can see.” –“Chasing Cars,” Snow Patrol Suggested by Gaby D. via Facebook

28. “You are every reason, every hope and every dream I’ve ever had.” —The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks Suggested by Janel P. via Facebook

29. “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.” — Winnie the Pooh, A. A. Milne Suggested by Alberto R. via Facebook

30. “Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are.” –Oscar Wilde Suggested by Linda S. via Facebook

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31. “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” —The Fault in Our Stars, John Green Suggested by Kamilah S. via Facebook

32. “I love you as one should, to excess. With folly, delight and despair.” –Julie de L’Espinasse Suggested by Bernardo G. via Facebook

33. “Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.” –Robert Frost Suggested by Hannah B. via Facebook

34. “Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move Doubt truth to be a liar But never doubt I love.” — Hamlet, Shakespeare Suggested by Isabelle P. via Facebook

35. “The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.” — No Man Is an Island, Thomas Merton Suggested by annehuangmf711

36. “Of all the things my eyes have seen, the best by far is you.” –Cecilia and the Satellite Suggested by mmiller2

37. “I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.” ― Blue-Eyed Devil, Lisa Kleypas Suggested by queenkatlifah

38. “I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.” — Tender Is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald Suggested by leahbeth

39. “I am all the time thinking about poetry and fiction and you.” –Virginia Woolf Suggested by alim4bbccf63e

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40. “And so, when a person meets the half that is his very own, whatever his orientation, whether it’s to young men or not, then something wonderful happens: the two are struck from their senses by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire, and they don’t want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment.” —The Symposium, Plato Suggested by thisprivatewar

41. “I could stay with you forever and never realize the time.” –“You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go,” Bob Dylan Suggested by jennieb3

42. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” —Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte Suggested by makiyahm

43. “But most of all I’m afraid of walking out that door and never feeling again for my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.” — Baby, Dirty Dancing Suggested by aldeen08

44. “My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches!” — The Princess Bride Suggested by lisam4de6c969b

45. “You could search the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful.” –Yvaine, Stardust Suggested by joannaw4e62fc827

46. “You’re the better half of me, you’re the only half I need.” — “Wild Ones,” You Me At Six Suggested by annamaried2

47. “I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” — The Chaos of Stars, Kiersten White Suggested by Erin Ashley

48. “She would defend herself, saying that love, no matter what else it might be, was a natural talent. She would say: You are either born knowing how, or you never know.” —Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez Suggested by michaelalianner

49. “The truth, is you could slit my throat. And with my one last gasping breath, I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt.” –Taking Back Sunday Suggested by katiec438235a9f

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50. “I wish that life could be just like a photograph. One moment captured as you laugh your perfect laugh.” –“Like a Daydream,” Ride Suggested by paulb41753758e

51. “Every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me.” –“Dead Leave & The Dirty Ground,” The White Stripes Suggested by kdamico83

52. “So yes. It had flaws, but what does that matter when it comes to matters of the heart? We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing BECAUSE. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love a thing DESPITE. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.” —The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss. Suggested by jojobean16

53. “For you, a thousand times over.” —The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini Suggested by vkummings

54. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” –The Bible Suggested by mmeadows2891

55. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” ―100 Love Sonnets, Pablo Neruda Suggested by erockadashow

56. “I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know: whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.” –Clementine Von Radics Suggested by amandam4b4f6b306

57. “‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.'” —The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams Suggested by michelleleew

58. “I don’t care if you don’t love me, I don’t care if you won’t change. I would live inside the shadow that is cast by you, if it meant that you would.” –“Miss America,” Something Corporate Suggested by ashn464ef3eda

59. “There’s a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive, wormhole refractors… You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold.” —Dr. Who, Season 6 Suggested by Erin Ashley

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60. “Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches…” —The Princess Bride Suggested by emilyb401913b36

61. “I love you only because it’s you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you, bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you is that I do not see you but love you blindly.” –Pablo Neruda Suggested by melibellel

62. “When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.” —Captain Correlli’s Mandolin, Louis de Bernières Suggested by mary-laurenw

63. “Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.” — Hamlet, Shakespeare Suggested by dhanyaj

64. “Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That’s what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.” –Lauren Oliver Suggested by katyross82294

65. “Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.” ―Dorothy Parker Suggested by kieshak

66. “I am in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we are all doomed, and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only Earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.” —The Fault in Our Stars, John Green Suggested by sofiak4b91808e2

67. “Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” –Maya Angelou Suggested by brittanyh40b6d8214

68. “It means that love isn’t about being afraid that it will all be snatched away. Love’s about finding the one person who makes your heart complete, who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. It’s about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing, all the way to your bones, that she’s simply the best person you’ve ever known.” —The Viscount Who Loved Me, Julia Quinn Suggested by alexandriachem

69. “We are all fools in love.” —Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Suggested by sharonc55

70. “If we look at the world with a love of life, the world will reveal its beauty to us.” –Daisaku Ikeda Suggested by aislinnm4f03105da

71. “Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.” ―Rainer Maria Rilke Suggested by bethg31

72. “The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” ―Rumi Suggested by bethg31

73. “She was like art; and art wasn’t supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.” —Eleanor and Park, Rainbow Rowell Suggested by katelyndaniellem

74. “I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.” ―What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, Raymond Carver Suggested by emilygilliand

75. “Cause on the list of everything I need, there’s air, but first there’s you and me.” –“The Truth Is,” Go Radio Suggested by andie215

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76. “The half life of love is forever.” —This Is How You Lose Her, Junot Díaz Suggested by leog4059ba1d6

77. “You are my sweetest downfall.” –“Samson,” Regina Spector Suggested by harrietg409844cf5

78. “My love for you is a puzzle, for which I have no answers. I can’t control it… and now I don’t care. I truly, deeply love you.” –Padme Amidala Suggested by catherineesparanzaj

79. “Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet.” –Tom Robbins Suggested by jaimemcclainfl

80. “Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it.” —House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski Suggested by alexey2

81. “Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I’m never not thinking of you.” —Selected Diaries, Virginia Woolf Suggested by ludovicat

82. “That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.” —Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger Suggested by aeslehcgale

83. “We are like islands in the sea. Separate on the surface, but connected in the deep.” –William James Suggested by brittanyb46a381ca8

84. “Love is the doorway through which the human soul passes from selfishness to service.” –Unknown Suggested by michelleu2

85. “But we loved with a love that was more than love.” –“Annabelle Lee,” Edgar Allen Poe Suggested by whitneighs

86. “He was my North, my South, my East, and West, My working week, and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.” –“Funeral Blues,” W.H. Auden Suggested by anniea4c02ace89

87. “Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.” –Frida Kahlo Suggested by katiesheets97

88. “I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep, and there are no words for that.” –Unknown Suggested by laurenm47cbff421

89. “I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me.” —The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Suggested by ludovicat

90. “The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.” –Pascal Suggested by erins45c7d8cda

91. “Grief is the price we pay for love.” –Queen Elizabeth Suggested by rachelm47be0a339

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Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/juliegerstein/91-enduring-and-beautiful-quotes-about-love

[leavingwitchmxuntain]

Double Solo Para: Chasing Ghosts

It’s very rare she can look at a student and see their past without some sort of verbal trigger. So when she glances to the short girl with purple hair, she almost walks into a wall as everything hits her at once.

All that pain, all the fear and she’s pretending she’s fine. And that’s when Nova realizes why it had been so easy and hit her so hard. She’s lying, she’s wearing such a serious mask and acting like it’s getting easy-- and Nova can hear her child self screaming--

She walks over quickly, clearing her throat. “Pardon me?”

The girl looks up in confusion, but it jars her thoughts and helps Nova shake herself free from this girl’s past. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just-- I thought you looked like you could use a friend. My name’s Nova O’Day, I’m new here.”

“...Hannah.” The goth slowly accepts Nova’s outstretched hand, shaking it uncertainly. “What about me made you think I need a friend?”

“I don’t know. You just... I guess something about your look said you were sad.”

Hannah makes a face, and Nova holds up her hands quickly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend! You’re just... here all on your own, earbuds in, just trying to push through the crowd... you just seemed alone and sad. I’m sorry if I got it wrong.”

Hannah pauses and squints at her and shrugs. “Whatever. What’s your next class?”

“Uh, I’ve got...” Nova tries to recall her schedule, “History of Heroes and Villains?”

“Me, too,” Hannah says. “So you’ve got some time before class, right?”

“Uh, yes.” Nova answers, having absolutely no idea.

“C’mon. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to for a change.” Hannah leads Nova back to the art room where she’s been working on a mural for the school.

Nova’s quick to follow after the short girl, relieved she can be there. Maybe it’ll keep Hannah’s head out of that dark, dark place it had been in when Nova first looked at her. Those monsters may come back, but they can stay back for now. Nova will do what she can to help keep them away for however long they stay away.

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

🥖 - Hollis to Hannah ( @storystartsanew )

Hannah watches the bread soar over her head, reaching and catching it by some small miracle. "Why and how did you throw it so high though?"