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warmau · 4 years

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{Special} College!AU Hendery

major: general biology

minor: infectious diseases

clubs: part of chinese culture club with sicheng + tutors sometimes but he gets off-track easily, wont admit it out loud but attends the magic the gathering gettogethers often as well, extraterrestrial enthusiasts club

sports: he originally joined xiaojun for one of his ballet classes as a joke, but ended up really liking it and now he shows up regularly and the professor thinks hendery’s upbeat, chattery attitude is so “charming” and xiaojun just,,,,,,rolls his eyes like ma’am you don’t even know,,,,,,,,

hendery is a force to be reckoned with - not necessarily in a bad way, but if you aren't a high-strung energetic type then

it can be hard to keep up

but the truth is, hendery is just like that because he’s a natural born people-pleaser

making others happy by making himself the goofiest he can be actually brings him a lot of joy

and he finds no shame in carrying the ‘class clown’ title from high school into his college years

he takes everything with ease, kun and xiaojun frequently ask if he’s being an idiot on purpose, and hendery just thinks its hilarious

yangyang and yukhei usually just egg on his jokes and stunts

yukhei likes to partake in them too

but yangyang is a little too smart

and wont take on any bet thrown at him the way these two will

and believe me, hendery’s got a record for it

in his freshman year, he applied to a bunch of frats - only to see if he could past initiations

getting pied in the face, lugging mattresses across the quad, standing up in the middle of class to profess his love to the professor

all of those tests were easy-peasy ,,,,,, and even though he’d passed them all ,,,,,,, in the end he didn't even join any of the frats

just thanked them for the “fun times” while the other recruits eyed him like he was insane

basically, he will do anything asked of him - especially if itll make for what he refers to as “good comedy”

if it really is “good comedy” you have to ask the spectators - and the people who end up being pulled into it - which more than often are either his friends or his classmates

so why general bio? and even weirder - why infectious diseases?

well as silly as hendery is, the silliness doesn't translate well into art or literature

like he tried his hand at poetry and pottery and other humanities

and lets just say ,,,,,,,,,,, it didn't work out

(he’s banned from the literature department)

science on the other hand,,,,,,,,

leaves much more space for silliness than hendery could have ever imagined

although its a lot of math and rigorous testing - hendery enjoys the adventurous part of science

he likes opening textbooks with colorful, kind of icky, diagrams

have you ever seen the inside of a cell? hendery thinks it looks like a clown maze at the amusement park - he loves it!!!

biology is one of the most hands-on sciences

and when people in his intro course were gagging at the idea of disecting a frog

hendery was just like “leave it to me - even though i was only half listening to the professors instructions!”

and diseases are even more interesting to him

because their genetic makeup is so funny, and their scientific names are even funnier!!!!!!!

“hey xiaojun, you know what i learned about today? leptospirosis. LEPTOSPIROSIS - doesn't it sound kinda like leprechaun!?!?!? i almost died laughing in lab!!!!!”

xiaojun: how is that even funny

kun: just let the child amuse himself

sometimes people mistake his enthusiasm about his major as meaning he isn't actually interested in it as a career

just taking part in it like some inside joke

but that's far from the truth

hendery is actually a pretty proficient scientist when the topic intrigues him

and although hes loud and a little disruptive in actual lab

there are rare occurrences when you can find him quietly working on his results and papers

there’s nothing funny about making a mistake in science, hendery knows and understands that

and even though he doesn't tell many people it - he does have some interest in taking steps toward entering the medical field

but hes kept it a secret - because no one would take him seriously anyway so there isn't any point in talking about it

when hes not in class, making the professor groan and the students snicker behind their laptops

he’s usually at someone elses dorm rather than his own

he’s almost always given an invite to a party, people are always calling him over to join them for late night drinking or karaoke

because if hendery is there - it is guaranteed to be a good time

on multiple occasions, ten and kun have had to come to his aid

there was one time where hendery kind of totally overdid it and ten even had to facetime hendery’s mom

she had given him an earful over the phone, thanking ten when she was finally done

and just as hendery thought he could scurry off, ten had told him he had his own lecture in store

hendery’s busy social life isnt a problem for xiaojun though, who he shares his dorm with

hendery’s gone most of the time so xiaojun dumps all his stuff in the closet and is happy to use the extra space for ballet practice

,,,,,,,,,,until hendery stumbles in at 4pm on a sunday and is like “hey!” before passing out directly on the floor

look me in the eyes and try and tell me hendery doesn't have corny meme stickers on his laptop. you cant.

although hes wild, and a hand full, his friends do really care about him

and when they’re all together

kun and ten admit that hendery is extremely good at cheering them up

xiaojun and yangyang do have to agree that life would be boring without him

and sicheng and yukhei, who never interfere with his lifestyle choices, reveal that hendery is a good friend

when anyone needs something

hendery will jump through hoops to get it

and he’s usually up for taking the blame if something goes wrong

that’s exactly how you end up meeting hendery

back in highschool you two hadn’t ever interacted, mostly due to the fact that you had transferred in during senior year

and you were a bit on the reserved side

with an interest in quiet library's and flying under the radar till graduation

while hendery was much more of a social butterfly

with people begging for him to follow back on instagram or make it to their weekend parties

you had both existed in virtually different worlds - until you found yourself in a really, really, really bad situation

it had been the literal last day of highschool

you were one hundred and one percent sure you had absolutely everything out of your locker, most importantly - your college acceptance letter

which was one of your proudest achievements, but also the only document with your student id notification which you’d need for registrations and the acceptance orientation

giddy as you walked out toward the bus, you rummaged around in your bag one last time

just so you could pull it out and read it all over again when -

you must have looked absolutely insane on the curbside, dumping everything out of your bag and digging around like a rabid animal

but it was gone - your folder with your letter, and not to mention your graduation certificate, GONE

you scoop everything back up and run back toward the school - you’re happy that you see a figure coming out of the front door

because that means you can still get inside

the boy brushes past you and the door shuts behind him - you pull at the bar and then he turns around, taking his headphones off

“oh, the schools closed. the janitor let me out but-”

your eyes are so wide and full of terror when you turn that hendery can’t even finish his sentence

you look like you’ve seen a ghost and he asks you whats wrong

“m-m-my- a-a-accept-acc- my-m-”

hendery doesn’t understand any of your muttering - so he does what he always does when his friends go into a stupor

he grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a good shake

you’re about to yell at him, but it actually lets you collect yourself for a moment

you turn and start feverishly banging on the door

“what are you doing?!”

“you said something about a janitor - if he hears us he’ll let me back inside and i can get my letter!”

hendery sort of stares at you, for the first time he’s in the position where he looks at someone and thinks - seriously? are you insane, all this over some letter?

when usually he’s on the receiving end of such judgement

but either way, he tells you to stop - the janitor isn’t going to hear some loud bangs and come running

you guys are going to have to do something bigger to his attention

before you know it, hendery’s dropped his bag and circles around the school

you follow him, not sure of what else to do - but when he’d said you had to do something bigger, it sounded like he had a plan

and hendery does have a plan - he stops outside the large glass window right under the gym

“ok, you - go back to the front entrance. when the janitor steps out, run in through the door and get your letter.”

“how are you going to get him to step out?!”

hendery looks around, pushing aside some of the shrubs and picking up a rock

you look at it, then him, and then the window

“you're not going to-”

he feigns offense, “destroy school property? of course not! now go - run to the front.”

you only half believe him, but you need that letter more than anything, so you circle back to where you started

it all happens in a blurry flash - you hear something shatter, you hear the door push open a minute or two later, you dash passed and down the empty halls

you’re so focused on getting your letter and getting the hell out of there that you don’t notice the voices outside or the big crack in the window as you’re running back

with your letter in hand, you sort of disappear before you can get caught up in whatever hendery’s plan was

and hope that he at least got away too

the next time you see him is at freshman orientation

you’re surprised that this school was his choice and under any other circumstance you’d brush it away

but you’re itching to know

so when you approach him and ask, how did he help you out on that faithful day (does he even remember it?)

hendery grins, wide and bright

“of course ii remember it! the janitor caught me and ii had to do community service or pay a fine. spent half my time cleaning up garbage in a park because of you!”

the words aren't malicious - actually he doesnt even look mad when you apologize for such a big inconvenience

instead he just tells you it was worth it - it took him sometime, but he figured that the letter you’d been going on about like crazy had to be something ultra important

you hadn’t even known this dude - and yet, he was talking to you like he had just done a favor for an old friend

since then, you’d grown closer to him

and now you both where in your junior years - you’d become a part of his friend group and he had become someone so much more than just a stranger

looking back at it - you’d never thought you and him would get along on such a deep level

but you did, and you suspected it had most to do with the fact that no matter how goofy or dumb his antics were

hendery had never and would never intend to hurt anyone

in fact, he’d put himself in harms way first

and his loyalty was something lost on most people your age - you admired it

sometimes, you were even jealous of the pure-natured almost naïve way he went about life

so now you’re sitting in his dorm, xiaojun is at his desk watching ballet recitles and you’re shifting through hendery’s messy pile of books and papers

“isn’t your lab due tomorrow - how did you manage to lose it?”

he rummages through his backpack and whines

“i didn't loooose it- i bet kun stole it!”

“kun isn’t taking a bio class, you just probably tossed it out like always.”

“hey!”

you turn to see hendery’s signature pout, deep dark eyes big and hurt

“you’re making me sound so dumb!”

“hendery,,,,,,,sometimes - you are.”

he sticks his tongue out and you continue to look through the pile, your hands stop when they reach the thin, silver book that is your highschool yearbook

your copy is at home, you wonder for a second why hendery’s is here

“did you find it?!”

hendery bounds over and you cover it up quickly - giving him a playful shove away

“no, now keep looking - or else you’re going to have to re-do all fifteen pages tonight!”

he whines, but returns to his corner of the room. your fingers tap the stack of paper and you feel a weird wave of nostalgia hit you

it’s broken up as the door swings open to the dorm and sicheng walks calmly through it

he passes you a handful of crumpled papers

“found hendery’s lab report in our trashcan.”

you turn to glare at hendery who puts his hands up and grins

“oops?”

after you leave hendery to retype his lab, you find yourself thinking about that yearbook again

you’ve been hendery’s friend for almost three years now - but in highschool you guys hadn’t even spoken

you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s almost shameful that you lost all those years

because hendery is a good friend, a lifelong friend

you and him could have had so many more memories together if instead of meeting on the last day in an almost comical twist of events

he could have been in your literature class, or you could have been his tutor and then you two could have just bonded like you did in college and become friends, even maybe-

lovers

you stop walking as the word flashes through your mind

“no, that’s just,,,,,,,silly.”

you toss the momentary curiosity to the side - if anything, ever since you started college you’d only had one crush on somebody

a crush so secret, you hadn’t even dared to write it down in your journal - let alone tell anyone

and you planned on keeping it that way

afterall, you had a degree to get and you were so - so close.

a couple of weeks later you find yourself handing in the last paper before a small spring break, you plan on going home when you get a call

hendery’s voice full of excitement

“whens your train home?”

he asks, not bothering with a greeting - he’s probably the only person you know who likes to jump right into any conversation

“tomorrow, around three.”

“cool - so that means you can party tonight!”

you roll your eyes - that's another thing you’ve gotten into since being hendery’s friends, parties

although they still aren’t your favorite pastime - you have to admit, they can be entertaining

and you and ten have sort of agreed that as the responsible ones, being at the party would at least mean hendery (and on most occasions yukhei) would have a safe way to get home

“maybe, depends on the party.”

hendery’s laugh is a sound so familiar - and so nice you sometimes think you can hear it forever and not grow sick and tired of it at all

“actually this time it’s at johnny’s place in the city! he finally got out of the dorms since he’s in graduate school now - but ten convinced him somehow.”

you know johnny suh, who doesn’t, a graduate student in film studies and super close friend of ten’s

back when you and hendery were still freshmen, johnny was the one known on campus for being a little too wild

but now, hendery seems to have stolen the title

“well if it’s at his place I guess it’ll be pretty small, im just happy we aren’t going back to that frat.”

hendery makes a disgusted sound

“nah! that place was boring and remember how i almost punched that guy out for-”

“yes, i remember. what time should i be heading over?”

“ill pick you up at ten!”

you hang up and smile, something in your chest warms a little - a feeling you haven’t felt before

sometimes he can be so crazy, and then sometimes he really is a gentleman

the thought doesnt occur to you as being unique in anyway, and you try hard not to fester on that weird feeling in your chest

hendery is late - because of course he is - but you’re used to it and give him just a little bit of a scold as you two walk toward the metero

other than that the conversation is the same, plans, friends, potential people you’ll run into at the party, etc.

you and hendery stand close to each other on the subway, his hand comes up to hold your shoulder when the cart jerks or someone is pushing past you to get in

you poke the hole in his tshirt hem and mutter that he should at least ask xiaojun to sew it up

when you both get to the party, johnny is already half a wine bottle in by the flush on his face and the way ten is chasing after him

sicheng and kun are there, mingling among themselves and waving you guys over

hendery says he’s going to join them and you’re about to step toward them to

when you feel someone tap your shoulder

you turn, and something in your body feels like it snaps

yukhei smiles at you and starts asking where hendery is - but you are looking over his shoulder at the person behind him

lee taeyong

the computer science major who had also studied alongside johnny at your college when you were a freshman

you had seen him when you had just started your first couple of weeks and that entire year had been like you were enchanted

he was an otherwise reserved, soft-spoken person

but his reputation was the unattainable heartbreaker - who would turn down confessions politely but with little to no regard

he was beautiful when you last saw him, and he was beautiful now - all this time later

whats he doing here?

you’d been to johnny’s place before and had never seen him around, other graduate students sure but not taeyong

“ah! by the way - this is taeyong. he graduated but i met him because he’s here to-”

you bow a little and rush through the crowd toward the solitary confinement of the bathroom

to your luck, two voice shout from inside that its occupied so you escape to the stairs of the building - going up a couple of floors until the sound of the party is nothing but a drawl

you don’t know why, but seeing him hurts

it’s because he was the first person you ever really loved

you don’t get it too - your communications with him had been limited to a two time greeting in the computer lab late during finals week

you had seen him around, you’d once even followed him embarrassingly through the library

you knew nothing about him but his major and his beauty

so what made your heart fall so hard never really made sense

the way you’d felt was so confusing and therefore it made you so ashamed

you had thought about telling your friends to understand - why, but never did

and so you curl up a little and think that tonight its only a good idea for you to go

“ah! there you are - hey, are you crying?”

hendery’s voice breaks you out from your thoughts and you unravel a little to huff at him

“im not crying, im just -”

he sits down and puts a hand on your knee

“did some asshole try something, if you need me to get them let me know - you know how good ii am at rock throwing!”

the little inside joke makes you crack a smile and you shake your head

“its not that, i was just feeling a little cramped in there.”

he pulls to cans of beer from his jean pockets and sets them down

“that’s fine, we can party up here! just the two of us!”

you’d resist - but something about his cheer wins you over

you spend what feels like hours up there, hendery running back and forth between the flights to bring back more beer and snacks

you dont know how many cans are littered around you until your head falls against his shoulder

and if you were sober, you’d feel him tense up

“hey hendery - wanna hear a secret?”

you giggle and hendery turns a little, your eyes are glittering and your speech is just a little bit crocked

“sure, but ii think this should be your last can!”

he slips the beer from your hand - and you make a badly attempted reach for it that just lands your palm against his thigh

again, his body goes into alert, but you just keep going

“i have a crush on someone.”

you hiccup and hendery swallows - his heartbeat is a loud thudding in his ears

“o-oh yeah? on who?”

“wwwwwwwellllllll,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,”

you sit up and hendery looks at you again - you brace his shoulders

“taeyong.”

you hiccup and grin

“lee taeyong.”

with that you let go of hendery’s shoulders which have dropped anyway

you tilt your head back and hendery lurches forward to grab you when you start tipping over

your eyes close and you feel your head hit something soft - probably the front of hendery’s shirt

you whisper the next sentence, but hendery never hears it

“used to - i used to have a crush on him but now i think i,,,,,”

the words don't come out but it doesnt matter, hendery touches your cheek with his palm and sighs

you’re out cold for now

and he says something you never hear too

“damn, and here i was. stupid enough to think you were going to say my name instead.”

the incident doesnt come back to you - not even when you’ve had an advil and are drinking coffee in the morning as you pack for home

your group chat is talking about yukhei doing something weird and your other texts are normal

so you just assume ,,,,,,,, nothing happened

and that's what it feels like

until you’re back to classes after spring break and

“soooooooooooo, a little birdie told me a secret over the break!”

you turn your head and look up to see yukhei

he plops himself down in the chair across from you and nearly sends the whole table shaking

you grab your laptop and coffee before it knocks over

“you and your giant knees need to be more careful.”

he waves it off and leans forward

“so, lee taeyong.”

your fingers, which had been diligently typing up your homework stop short

yukhei claps his hands and points a finger gun at you

“so you do like him! well, good news for you i got his number at the party and you guys are both all about work and school and-”

you shut your laptop and the noise makes yukhei’s voice shake for a second

“who told you about taeyong.”

yukhei scratches his head and leans back

“well i probably shouldn’t tell you but hendery. he heard taeyong and i got introduced by johnny so he thought i could help you-”

hendery?

something twists

hendery, did i tell hendery? when?

you stare into your lap and gasp

the party, i got drunk and i told him at the party and he -

“w-who else knows?”

yukhei waves his hand, trying to calm you down

“just the usual, but we all support it - im pretty sure taeyong is single and -”

he told, everyone?

a multitude of thoughts runs through your mind, but the biggest question is why

even if you were a little out of it, you know you wouldn't have just told hendery to go about spreading your secret

you’re sure, even if its fuzzy, that if you confided in him - you would have made it somehow clear that no one else should know

and hendery was close enough to you, that if there was a chance you hadnt done that, he’d instinctively know

which only leaves one real explanation - hendery isnt your friend, he spilled your secret to humiliate you

all these years - all this time - was he just waiting for it? for the right moment to make you some kind of laughingstock?

you stand up and gather your things, you ignore yukhei’s confusion and when he tries to stop you - you just push past him

it must be for payback, he must have been actually so pissed about that stupid stunt he pulled for me in highschool. after all, he probably got a stain on his record because of it and so he plotted to make me look like a fool one day right - right!

your logical brain starts moving, making up more and more scenarios

he probably thought - oh why do I have to take the blame for some stupid stranger! but didn't know what else to do so he befriended me and made him trust me

your brain runs like a crazed engine, but something in your chest fights against it

suddenly you think about it again

trust, hendery is the one person i fully trust. there isn't any reason for him to hurt me

a glimmer of that hopefulness washes right away when you get a text from an unknown number

you stare at it and re-read it

the anger that had powered you before surges up through you again

‘hi, this is lee taeyong. your friend told me how you feel and while im grateful for the compliment - ii don't want to let you pine for no reason. im currently not looking for a relationship, but lets be friends if the chance arises.’

what kind of stupid text is that - i don't want to date you! im not some lovestruck idiot! why are you treating me like one? why did hendery make me out to be one? hendery - hendery - im never going to fucking forgive you

and you don't - you block the number, you delete the contact, you know his schedule and you make it a point to avoid him at all costs

even his friends, who you thought were your friends once, aren't immune from the cold shoulder

and so when kun ends up sitting beside you on the bus - you’re so damn headstrong about it all that you get off at the next stop

part of you knows this is childish, and you’re supposed to be the big adult - the responsible one

like you’ve always been

but

but hendery isn't even making an effort to reach out

actually, you think you’d probably haven given in by know if he’d called you or tried to reach you

he knows your schedule too so you thought hed track you down and at least ask whats going on

but he hasnt

which all you take is the fact that your point has been proven

this insane theory about how he’d befriended you for almost three years was just to find someway to get back at you in the end

and he’d done it! and he was satisfied!

and it hurt

that's what it was

painful

after a while it was less and less about your stupid little crush on a senior, and more and more about the fact that you had lost you friend

a person who you thought would have your back forever

a person who the universe didn't intend for you to even be near, to ever be close to

the opposite end of the spectrum and yet he had defied that all

and had left an impact on you that you thought would be with you forever

the blind kindness, the forgiving heart, the prone to accidents and silliness and just horrible decision making in general all for the sake of someone elses happiness

all of that had made you cherish him

at this point - you found yourself sitting up in bed - staring at the screen of your phone that used to ping nonstop with his texts

and realize you missed your friend

and worse of all

you missed your friend who you were starting to fall in love with

lee taeyong had been this ideal for you, beautiful and studios, the perfect match

you had daydreamed about bringing him home to your family, how he’d probably be so sweet and gentle

but he was this stand-in, he was a dream that you thought you had

when in reality

your dream didn't consist of the graceful, hardworking, flawless man

it was

as you closed your eyes and really thought about it

it was always hendery

clumsy, laidback, overflowing with flaws man that at the center of it all was crafted with a heart of gold

but was he? would someone like that really sell you out?

your answer comes just as the end of your junior is approaching, you’re so mentally exhausted from school and your own feelings

that you don't have the time to focus on anything anymore but getting to your dorm and getting to bed

you accidentally drop one of the textbooks in your hand and when you reach down to get it - another hand extends for it too

you look up and

oh god no, not right now!

“ah -- hello.”

taeyong gives you polite smile and you barely have enough energy to reply with your own small nod

“how are you?”

please don't do this to me, i don't want to make conversation with you

“fine, and you?”

“good, work hard on your finals!”

you say you will and are happy that he ended it so quickly when,

“also, i am still sorry i couldn't accept your feelings.”

the heavy blanket of tiredness suddenly feels like its aflame on your back

really, did you really have to say that?

some kind of newfound energy spikes up in you and you turn to him

“I know you're my senior, but ii need to say something to you.”

he titls his head

“i don't like you, i had a brief crush on you in freshman year but ii got over it. and no im not saying that to save face, ive already felt enough embarrassment about all this. ontop of that I don't have time to crush on you - im in love with hendery and yeah, i can say that now because it doesnt even matter.”

“YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HENDERY?!?!?!?”

“YUKHEI?”

you pivot around so fast, this time all your books go flying

you hadn’t even noticed him in the haze of weakness and yet - there he is, right behind taeyong

like an unbound puppy he rushes up to you and grabs your hands

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE INTO TAEYONG!”

your instinct is first to tell him to not be so damn loud

but you’ve lost what pride you thought you had and yell right back at him

“NO IM NOT AND YES - I LOVE HENDERY - BUT HIS STUPID ASS HASNT EVEN TRIED TO TALK TO ME AND I HATE HIM, I LOVE HIM BUT I REALLY HATE HIM RIGHT NOW TOO!”

yukhei jumps up and down

you’re not sure he registered the last part of your sentence because something gleams in his eyes that you aren't sure you like

taeyong shakes his head, quietly picking your things up

“ah, these kids really,,,,,,,,”

you pace up and down your dorm room like mad scientist

why did I do that? why did ii yell that out to the whole campus to hear - what is wrong with me?!?

you check your phone, but there isn’t a call or a text

yukhei has probably blabbed about it to hendery right now - what is going on why is no one telling me what is going on

you pick your phone up and scroll through the blocked contacts, you unblock everyone

and you do get a flurry of text - but none of them are from hendery

ugh, im so stupid - not only did he trick me into being his friend but now he knows how ii feel about him and is probably laughing about it

you stop and put your hands on your face and groan

fuck you hendery, no one in the world could make me feel this crazy but you

some more time passes and you’re now sure that you’ve just embarrassed yourself further

you spotted kun on the way to your last final yesterday and had almost waved at him like everything was all peachy

when it wasnt

and now as you were packing your things up to leave the lecture hall you almost jump from your skin when someone shouts your name

you look down and beside a shocked professor is

hendery?!?!?

“DID YOU THINK YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD GET TO SCREAM ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS?”

oh my god - what is this kid about to do

you watch in shock as the professor taps hendery’s shoulder, but is ultimately ignored

“YOU MADE ME GET ALL DEPRESSED FOR NO REASON - I REALLY THOUGHT YOU WERENT EVER GOING TO SPEAK TO ME AGAIN AND THEN YOU JUST GO ABOUT YELLING THAT YOU LOVE ME? THATS NOT FAIR!”

you panic a little because the professor brings out his cellphone and hendery’s gotten in trouble for you before

you kinda think that's going to happen now too

but,,,,,,but you want to hear what he has to say too

“ITS NOT FAIR SO IM GONNA DO THE SAME THING - GET READY BECAUSE IM GONNA LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT I - WON KUNHANG - AM IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO!”

just as he finishes, you see the professor put down his phone

your head spins, but you let your feelings be pushed to the side as you maddash toward hendery

the professor probably dialed for on-campus security, and whats worse is this idiot just said his full name! well - let me at least help him out like he helped me!

you grab hendery as soon as you get near him

looking him in the eyes and every part of you is screaming a million and one things

to yell back at him, to get angry, to tell him to fuck off, to tell him you love him to his face, to ask if hes insane for real

but you just

kiss him

the professor jerks back and you can feel hendery’s knees almost give out

when you pull back you turn to the provfessor and smile

“we’re doing impromptu theater, was it any good?”

your bluff actually manages to work - the security gives you two a stern talking to and tells you to tell the theater club to knock it off with these “public disturbances”

you squeeze henderys hand behind your back when he tries to insist it wasn't a performance, it was his true confession

until you’re finally free of the guard and you let him go

“you could say that kiss was fake all you want, but i know it was real.”

is the first thing he has the AUDACITY to say to you

and although you want to blow up

you want to ask him about how this all happened in the first place

you cant bring yourself to be mad

you just look at him and then sigh

“how’d it end up being you,,,,,,”

he shrugs his shoulders and suddenly his voice gets a little quieter

“i ask myself the same thing,,,,,,”

you furrow your eyebrows and huff

“excuse me? are you saying im not likable-”

he puts his hands up and shakes his head

“no, im just saying you’re right - we definitely aren’t the people we thought we’d fall for. ii mean c’mon, when you said taeyong that night - i just knew you know.”

“knew what?”

“that he was the right choice for you. im just a stupid kid compared to him, there’s nothing about me for you to fall in love with.”

he’s not lying, you can tell by the way his tone is soft and there's a real self-hatered woven into it

your anger about whatever slips away because this is a side of hendery you knew existed but that you also knew he fought hard to not show

“hendery, you are stupid. you’re stupid because you legitimately think you’re inadequate of attention and love. do you know why you’re popular - its not because you’re so funny.”

he stands up straight and the serious look on his face is handsome, but it makes something sharp wedge in your heart

“its because you are one hundred percent selfless. and not for some kind of advantage, but because you really want to help.”

your shoulders drop a little

“i envy you, your hearts pure and your intentions are always good. living life that way is so beautiful, that's the first thing about you that i feel in love with.”

a silent pause follows after

the rawness of the situation dawns on the two of you in a way you didn't think would ever be possible

you've told a lot of things to hendery, you subconsciously spilled one of your biggest secrets to him

so it only makes sense that when it came down to this moment you’d really, honestly tell him everything

you feel as maybe you've made it a little awkward, lecturing him in a moment where you both have confessed when suddenly

you feel his hand take yours

that signature smile back on his face

“oh yeah? what else did you fall in love with?”

half of you wants to snap, the other half - the one that wins bursts out into laughter

the list is long, but in the moment you just answer

“the fact that you’re soooo good at throwing rocks!”

“hey, it is a charm!”

he leans in and his lips settle on yours, they’re warm and soft and you circle your hands around his neck

you had thought about what kissing him would feel like before - once just for fun, but recently for other reasons

you didn't expect him to be so reserved, letting his lips sort of softly part only when you push a little closer to him

its a good second kiss, though you don't think anything will ever beat your first lol

and nothing beats the story too - which makes it to the front of the student journal

(both you and hendery get a talking to from theater club who was NOT happy about you lying - but ultimately did like that you ended up together)

you are in perpetual embarrassment shock for a while

but hendery eats it up! - if anyone as much as mentions it he’‘s like

“let me tell you the beautiful tale of our lov-”

and you have to clamp your hand over his mouth like lol sorry don't mind him

even in the early stages of dating, you can tell that hendery is that kind of significant other

just like he is with friendships, he gives himself wholeheartedly to the other person

like yes, you just started dating and you know most people don't start off shouting that they love each other

but you guys are different and although you've somehow become a little shy of using the word

hendery is in it - you are his love, his lovely, his lovable, his capital L love of his goddamn life and if he doesnt get to say it a million times well then

he just isn't trying hard enough

and although his affection is overflowing, and his love language is obviously expression

it is not smothering at all because in reality, you feel exactly as much as he does

its just that you show it off differently, but those who are your friends know

because hendery used to be able to do anything and everything

hence his notoriousness for being down for any dare

but your love language? protection

“no hendery, you are not going to drink hot sauce out of the bottle because yukhei said you couldn't do it.”

“no hendery, you are not going to dress up like the shrek just because ten bought the costume on amazon”

“no hendery, you are not going to climb that fence - hendery get down!”

you aren't trying to limit his free spirit - youre just worried

when you were just friends he was always in some kind of trouble, either with people in authority or covered in bruises and scraps from the aftermath of his silliness

you explained it once to him in the simpliest terms you could think up

squishing his cheeks between your palms youd looked him in the eye and said

“you are my boyfriend, and if you break your arm doing something dumb - what does that mean 1) your arm is broken and 2) you cant hold my hand with that arm so that sucks for me and you - right?”

to be honest you could dangle holding hands or kisses as leverage and hendery will give up on the spot

because lets be honest, he cannot live a day without at least giving you some kind of physical affection

the boy is a bursting pile of cheesy love - and you really try not to use that against him

because it really is so wonderful and pure

but if he wants to do something dumb you will put your palm out when he leans in to kiss you and he will get all fretty like a big baby

kun at some point: don't you feel like youre a dog owner with a big, misbehaving puppy

you: no, not at all.

kun: really?

you: at least a misbehaving puppy listens sometimes

kun: ah, i see

hendery’s kind of dates include a lot of latenight fast food runs and showing up to your dorm with the excited news that he got a hold of someones netflix password so you guys can binge corny tv shows

you thought he’d be the type to want a new adventure everyday, but surprisingly enough, hes very VERY content with staying in and just snuggling

not to say you two don't have some very memorable and slightly embarrassing date stories

ahem, that one time hendery got you bubble tea and you were waiting outside and he said “look I can balance both our drinks on my head!”

of course he spilled them all over himself

and you two used up all the napkins in the store before escaping the cashiers glare into a nearby store to get hendery a new tshirt

hendery isn't super flashy by the way, his clothes are mostly comfortable basics, and he likes a bit of an oversized fit

so when you wear them they’re extra loved and cozy

hendery gets a bit fidgety the first time you do it - and you really cannot tell why

you wonder if he doesnt like you borrowing his clothes, but then you roll over a little to cuddle against him and he freezes

and you’re like

oh, that’s why

hendery - although loud and energetic in all other aspects of life - is a pretty bashful lover

his hands are always a little shaky and he waits for you to lead in with anything more than kisses

and you actually think its very, very adorable

because he gets this kinda dreamy look in his eyes and his voice gets softer

and when your lips are on his collarbones its like the only thing he can even do is whisper your name against your hair

its a side you enjoy keeping all to yourself, and hendery is so thankful because oh my god no one would let him live it down

xiaojun gets a little grumpy that you and hendery are always around more - but he likes you as a person

(to him, youre the only person who can really keep hendery’s ambitiousness incheck)

so he lets it slide

plus you finally got hendery to stop coming around to his ballet practice, because you refuse to let hendery do so until he finishes his labs

and you know hendery is smart, you tell from the way he can offhandedly answer questions about his major

and even though he has this idiotic habit of dumbing himself down for comedy

seeing him run up to you and show you the first perfect score on his lab, it really makes you swell with pride

and his interest in infectious diseases and all the weird diagrams of micro-organisms and whatnot doesnt phase you

actually his passion for it makes you excited to listen to him talk

and ten is like ew that thing looks like a bug

and youre like “listen to me, if hendery thinks the cell membrane is cute then you say its cute. ok. or. else.”

gosh when you guys get together - theres this energy that is so ,,,,, sweet - its almost a little dizzying

because its obvious that these feelings you two can so freely show to each other now have been piling up for a while

and now its free reign

sometimes hendery’s bangs get long and hell lean in to kiss you but his hair will tickle you first

and you always do this like giggle and hiccup when you get tickled

and hendery once blinks and goes

“you know your hiccups are number 105 on the list of things I love about you”

and you laugh because lol wow do you really have a list

and hes like pffft no

(he has a list, it is in his iphone notes)

hendery the type of boyfriend who spends like five weeks planning a celebration for your anniversery

but on the day off hes like F I cant do this and abandones all his plans

and just shows up in front of you with twelve different bundles of flowers and ten different stuffed animals

and is like

“I know you really like roses, but also you said you liked sunflowers when we went to that farm and i know your a cat person, but you also like wolves so I got you-”

he just really really really wants to make you happy

and sometimes you can tell that he thinks he doesnt

that he compares himself to people he thinks are better for you

and that's when you’re just like hendery, look at me - its you. its only going to be you.

because the universe might have felt like you two didn't fit, but its so obvious you do

you made up a rule that if hendery tries to talk down about himself he has to do ten pushups with you on his back

but you never actually make him do it ,,,,, you just spend like an hour telling him he’s so dumb - because you are so in love with him

as you guys go into senior year together, hendery becomes your biggest cheerleader and you become his

and seriously you two could get through anything togther

one afternoon, as you’re walking back from class and hendery slides his palm into yours

you see johnny and taeyong across the ways - they’re picking some people up or something and taeyong notices you two

he waves

and you both wave back

when you get to your dorm and you curl up in hendery’s arms, you feel him play with the ends of your hair

“I never asked you, why did you tell everyone about my crush on taeyong?”

“when you said you liked him, I thought you meant like in the moment - and so I thought I could get yukhei to set you two up.”

“but didn't you already have feelings for me?”

hendery smiles a little against your hair

“yeah, but nothing mattered more to me than making you happy.”

you clutch the front of his shirt a little - the sentence makes you want to cry

from happiness, but also because of course - you had jumped to conclusions thinking he’d done it to hurt you

but its hendery, of course he only did it to help

“wanna know something dumb?”

hendery moves back a little so he can look at you better

“hmm?”

“ive always wished we knew each other better back in highschool - maybe then we’d have more time and none of that would have happened. maybe we could have fallen in love all those years ago.”

he scrunches up his nose and you sit up

he follows suit and takes your hands in his

“yeah but - it was worth it. and hey, if we’d been buddies or whatever you might have never left your letter in that locker and ii would have never gotten to throw that rock through the window.”

you roll your eyes

“reall-”

“that was a stupid thing to do, and its the only stupid thing ive done that im so happy i did.”

you let yourself fall forward, right into his arms, they’re warm and they feel so perfect around you

“oh - and shouting out how much i love you in front of your whole class. that's another stupid thing im proud of.”

*this post was commissioned | other college!aus

#wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #hendery scenarios #hendery imagines #hendery au #wayv #hendery #college!au #sfw #member: hendery #the way this reads like a 12 part anime in one #wiring commission #wayv hendery #tw: drinking #/drinking

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realisaonum · 3 years

Text

book meme

thank you, jen @det395 !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series?

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it.

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius @mouth-rainboy @iwonderifthatisart @phereinnike @magnificentmoose @wambsgangs @moriarteaparty and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf?

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend.

#this took a while but was fun #thanks again jen #very excited to read other folks responses #also like a general content warning? i mention/refer to things in the books but nothing's unpacked here #still to be cautious reference to mature themes #the narrator feeling posthumous

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years

Text

Sam Winchester: Poetry, my love

*credit to the gif owner*

Pairing: Sam x Y/n/ Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Sweet moments, Sam writing, Sam falling in love with the reader, Mention of Sams past relationship (With Jessica), Internal monologue, (Quick mention of Dean), Love confession.

Summary: Sam tries to write poems. All of which end up being about or for Y/n, and all of them are about just how much Sam truly loves her.

A/N- All of these poems are from Pinterest!

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen

I remember when I was in middle and high school, how much I thrived in English class. I love to read, but because I’ve read so much in my life. I’ve found out recently that I absolutely love to write.

I love to write little blurb of what a hunt was like, and I’ve taken up journaling. Some people might say that writing things out can make them come alive, but I I personally think that once it out on paper, then it kind of cleans the mind. Declutter my head if you will.

Going through my phone my eyes landed on Pinterest. It wasn’t an app I used very often, but I clicked on it anyway. Going through the process of making an account it asked me what I liked and my interest. I assumed based off what I choose the app would give me different things to look at in my feed.

That is exactly what happened. A few motivational words popped up, and I scrolled through, then a few quotes popped up. But what really caught my attention was the search bar. I wanted to see what other people thought about writing so that’s what I put in the search bar.

I scrolled for a few minutes, and then the word ‘Poems’ popped up. After the years that I’d been writing not once had I tired doing poetry, so I clicked on it. The first poem that was in the stream said the following;

The most

beautiful part is,

I wasn’t even looking

when I found you.

Man, that was so calming and peaceful. A true statement. It made me think of Y/n. The way she just was placed into our life, I hadn’t been looking. I stopped looking when after Jessica died.

I stopped thinking that i deserved to find love. I stopped believing I was worth it. But that was all before Y/n came into my life. She was sweetest person you’ll ever met. She always wears a smile regardless of how bad a situation could get.

She is nerdy like me, she loved to read through the lore books, making it an effort to help me when I couldn’t quite figure something out on my own. The thing about Y/n is she wasn’t just like me, she disappears for hours, in the kitchen cooking with Dean, or making pie for him. She is the best thing to come into our lives since forever.

Again, I started to read through posts on Pinterest. I wondered how many of these posts were meant to be about the girl of someone dreams. I scrolled through seeing a ton of different poems. Some were sad, about how breakable a women’s heart really is. Some on the other hand were about falling in love with the girl of your dreams.

Another poem said;

If you look carefully,

She’s slowly falling in love with you,

But she doesn’t want you to find out,

Well, not yet.”

This makes me think even more about Y/n. Does she love me? Is she falling in love with me and doesn’t want me to find out? Is she falling in love with me, like I am with her? I have so many questions that I couldn’t possibly ask her.

I wonder if she sits in bed like I do and fantasize over her. I sound creepy, but I honestly want to know. I pay attention to her, and her actions. When she’s with Dean she isn’t touchy. When we’re on a hunt, she chooses to sleep in bed with me. She talks about everything with me. Let’s me in, let’s me comfort her.

Is this her way of saying I want to be with you Sam? I once again start to scroll through the feed, looking and reading through all the poems. Coming across another one, this one though made me stop and think. Made me realize a few things more about Y/n.

“Find Someone who makes you realize three things: One, that home is not a place, but a feeling. Two, that time is not measured by a clock, but by moments. And three, that heartbeats are not heard, but felt and shared.”

I realized all of those things when I thought of Y/n. When I was with Y/n no matter where we were I felt at home with her. We could be hundreds of miles away from the bunker, deep in a hunt. As long as she was there, I was happy, content, and at peace.

Number two took me a few times to really figure out. The first time I noticed it was our first Christmas with Y/n. She’d been with us for a whole year, and I couldn’t help but go out and get her something. I went to our local book store, and picked up 3 historical novels, based on what she’d read and what she had with her when she arrived at the bunker. When she opened her gifts, I couldn’t start to describe her smile. And then she dropped her books and run up to me, and crushed in her slender frame. This hug was different than others, the other hugs were ones that were in fear of losing each other, ones that were meant as apologies.

The second time I noticed it was Dean’s birthday. Y/n and I had gone out shopping for Dean first separate and then together. We wanted to get him a gift that suited him. We walked around the mall, both searching for the best store to choose from. “Oh Sammy... oops sorry I meant Sam. Look over there.” She spoke.

Moments like this where she was afraid to be like this way with me. “You can call me Sammy, Y/n. It doesn’t bother me when you do it.” I said involuntarily. I little blush rose to her cheeks, “Okay Sammy. There’s a store looks like a cowboy themed place.” She said walking towards the store.

Rarely would I do something out of my comfort zone, and not ask the other person. But before Y/n could get too far away from me, I grabbed her wrist and slipped our hands together. I made a quick excuse when she turned around and looked down at our hands and then me. “I just don’t want to get lost from you; this place does seem pretty huge.” I had said.

In moments when we were hurt in hunts. Moments where it seemed like we might say goodbye forever. I had Y/n in my arms in the back seat of the impala, she had a huge gash through her back, thankfully nothing had hit any vital organs or hit her spinal cord.

She sat in my lap her hands wrapped around my neck, our hearts pressed tightly together, I was grasping tightly to her. Trying to keep myself tethered to her. I focused on her breathing. Focused on the scent of the peach shampoo that still lingered in her hair.

I would see Dean looking in the back through the mirror. I didn’t have time to deal with his comments so i dropped my gaze, I was trying so hard to not break down, in front of my big brother or Y/n. Y/n needs a strong man, so that’s what I’ll be right now, just for her.

As i thought about past moments. I realized that I couldn’t keep the charade up anymore, about I felt towards Y/n. Making myself close out of the very calming app, I clicked on to the massaging app.

Sliding the small list of contacts, I did I have. I sent Dean an “goodnight” message before slipping out of our conversation and into Y/n and I conversation. I started to type and then deleted it.

I fell into this rhyme for a what seemed like an hour, of me saying how I felt and then deleting it. I received a “Good night bitch 😴” Message from Dean. I slide it off my screen refocusing on my message to Y/n.

Then all the sudden it clicked in my head. And I started typing my message out. Careful to phrase words the particular way.

“In you, I have finally found all I never dared dream I could deserve or have- the kind of love that is rare. Being known in a way that touches the deepest parts of me. Accepted in a way that blows my mind.”

I sent this part to her. I waited till she has read the massage. Then only a few moments later I saw a message from her pop up.

“Sammy what are you saying?” Y/n asked. So, I started to write the second part of my message.

“In you, Y/n the love I have always desired to give now has a place to call home, I hope? I have been skeptic, but you are my undeniable miracle. The questions don’t matter anymore.” I sent once again waiting for another message back from Y/n.

What I got surprised me. “Come to my room, Sammy.” She sent. I quickly uncovered myself from the thin blanket, and slipped on a Henley, along with my slippers.

I opened my door, and pretty much ran down the hall way, my phone still tightly placed in my hand. I slowed down as I made my way in front of Y/n’s door. I knocked and was granted access.

“Come in Sammy.” She said in her cute voice. I walked in, and shut the door softly. Before turning on my heels and standing still. “You can come over here and sit down with me Sammy.” So, I did as she said.

I walked over and sat down next to her. “So, Sammy, what did you mean by your message?” She asked grabbing my much larger hand with her much smaller hand.

I hadn’t ever noticed that, but instead of answering Y/n question I found our hands more interesting. “Sammy?” She said once again, but her voice was softer and quiet.

“I hope to god I’m not stepping over a boundary, but what I was trying to say was that I think... Wait No I know that I’ve fallen for you more deeply than I think I can understand. And I hope that you feel the same way?” I said rubbing my calloused thumb over the knuckles on her left hands.

“Sammy, I think I’ve fallen in love with you too.” Y/n said. Smiling showing off her bright eyes, and dimples on her cheeks.

“We have finally found each other, and that is enough. Right?” I said still a little worried I might say something wrong and ruin that whole moment.

“Yeah Sammy, I hop... I know that it’s enough, because when I’m with you I fell at peace and I wouldn’t want anything else then that.” She spoke. I brought my hand up to her cheek cupping it in my hand, and brought her close to my chest.

I kissed her lips, and god if it wasn’t the most intoxicating thing, I’ve ever tasted. I would be lying, she tasted like dark chocolate, and honey. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance, it was just a sweet kiss. Something that made this moment just so much more real.

“God, I love you so much Winchester.” Y/n said against my lips. I only smiled and whispered into her lips “I love you too, Y/L/N” “And don’t worry I’ll keep Dean from teasing the both of us.” I spoke.

Completed on : 03/14/2021

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tsukuna · 4 years

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Side by Side

Summary: You wandered into Red Grave City to warn the "Legendary Devil Hunter" of a certain... negative shift in the area's energy. It was an energy you knew to be demonic, and it grew stronger by the day. But on your way to meet with the intermediary, a noisy bird caught your attention. A noisy bird that would bring you to a frail man on the brink of falling apart.

Rated M • Female Reader • Before the Events of DMC V• Under the Cut • Part 2

The backstreets and dark alleys of Red Grave City were a seedy sort. There were assaults and robberies aplenty, and yet it was there you slinked around. It wasn’t like you were too good for such a sketchy area or anything, you also carried a hidden dagger on your person. Experience told you that was at least one precaution someone had to take. Something was about to change in Red Grave City though, you could feel it prickling on your skin.

In the couple days you had been in the area, you managed to locate a man by the name of Morrison--a man who would help you meet a devil hunter. The two of you scheduled a time to meet once more at a quaint bar to further discuss the issue you were bringing to the plate; however, that time wasn’t till later in the evening and there was nothing you could do to kill time. Any money you had was to be saved for the job ( hopefully the intermediary would buy you a drink at the bar ). And so you walked around, kicking rocks and passively looking about.

When you first saw a dark bird flying about in the sky, you thought nothing of it--until it began to talk. Your eyes squinted incredulously. The fuck? Clearly, this ‘bird’ was no bird. Quickening your pace to follow it, you whistled and called to it, “Hey!” Considering it stopped in place, you guessed you caught the creature’s attention. At that moment, it turned into a mere shadow falling down, and a short moment later, it perched itself upon your shoulder. Ah, a demon.

“Babe! ( Babe?) You gotta help me!” The demon squawked, his voice reminding you very much of a cartoon. It continued to speak after you quirked your brow at it. “I got a dying guy over there! Come on!” If he could’ve dragged you by the arm, he would have. You sighed in resignation and followed, nodding for the demonic bird to lead the way.

The destination was an abandoned, destroyed building that reeked of demon blood. Your eyes caught sight of a collapsed man, who you assumed to be the ‘dying guy.’ Again, the bird was blabbering about something, but you let it fade into the background noise. Cautiously, you made your way to the boy with black hair, hand on your dagger. It was unnecessary though. The man was truly out cold, his body shivering, sweating, and covered in demonic fluids.

You sat beside his body, gently pulling the man’s head onto your lap. You brushed the ebony hair away from his face. Cute. With a deep breath, you focused yourself and reached your hand out over his abdomen. “He’s not in good shape. What the hell happened to him?” You furrowed your brows.

“We were fighting demons and he worked his little body too hard!” He paused, “Is Shakespeare gonna live or not?” Was that actually the man’s name?

“I think so,” you affirmed, “I will do what I can.” Once more you reached out, pouring your own vitality into the cracks of his fractured energy. It wasn’t the most comfortable of procedures, so you hummed songs to keep your mind off the unease.

“Babe, just what are you,” the bird sat on your shoulder and questioned.

“Shh,” you put a finger to your lips without even bothering to look at the source of the voice and continued singing softly. You were not only too busy healing the man, but also trying to figure out just what he was. There was a faint demonic energy inside of him, but everything else appeared human--perhaps even weaker than that. You weren’t quite sure why you were pouring your energy into healing a seemingly doomed person, but it simply felt right--not that you ever cared what was right before.

It must have been nearly an hour before you were done working and certain that he would live through the toll his body had taken. However, he still laid there unconscious, and so you continued to sit there and idly ran your fingers through his hair. “He will live,” you softly spoke.

The demon let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fuck. Though I have to ask, how did you do that shit?” You explained the process without giving away just what you were. Considering you stumbled upon the two just that day, there was no trust there and there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would spill your secrets to strangers.

The chatty creature seemed disappointed in your answer, but pushed it no further.

Next to the man’s body lay a book with a ‘V’ on the cover. Curious, you reached out and picked it up. It was a book of poetry you noted as you skimmed through. Shakespeare indeed. You began to read. After all, there was currently nothing better to do, and considering the fact that it was still light outside, there was plenty of time till you had to meet with Morrison.

After a time of reading long enough for you to get over halfway through the book, a groan came from beneath you. Finally, the man had woken up. The atmosphere certainly became more awkward as he once again gained consciousness. With an uncomfortable smile, you let out a tense, “Yo.”

Dark green eyes blinked a few times and looked back at you with shock and suspicion as he shot up to a sitting position.

“You sure gave me a scare!” The black bird exclaimed before the man could address you. “Thought you were dead for realsies.”

“I just ran out of power,” the stranger spoke in a low, groggy voice, still looking at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“And that still means death to us right now, so be careful,” he responded. Ah, this demon must be his familiar.

The two of them talked further while you sat by watching. Finally, the man focused on you. “And who are you,” he warily questioned.

After you gave him your name, the bird butted in. “Babe here--”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Sorry. This lady here is the reason your sorry ass is still alive!” This time, he flapped his wings and perched on your head, an action that made you frown. The dark haired--and tattooed, you noticed--man quirked his brow.

“I suppose I owe you a gratitude,” he spoke once more. If you had to admit it, it was quite a pleasant, handsome voice.

You shrugged. “I think this demon here would’ve scratched my eyes out if I didn’t try after walking all the way here.” The chatterbox wasn’t wrong though. I’m almost certain he would’ve died without aid. “Oh, I assume you’re V,” you guessed due to the initial on the book and slid it over to him. “Hope you don’t mind that I read some while waiting for you.”

He appeared to be thinking before responding, “Yes.. my name is V. I hope its contents are interesting.” V began to stand up but it seemed his legs weren’t ready to support him, so he nearly tumbled over.

Quickly, you reached out to pick him back up. “I’m more of a fan of prose,” you admitted, as you assisted him, “but I can appreciate poetry as well.” V was back and steady on his feet, to which he offered a nod of thanks. A moment of silence passed by. “So can I ask what the name of your talkative familiar is?”

Said familiar materialized from the ink of V’s tattoos, “The name’s Griffon.” Much to your surprise another creature formed as well. “And this girl here is Shadow.”

You looked at the demon who took the form of a panther with glowing red eyes, and she looked back at you. Your eyes widened as she brushed herself against your legs like a house cat, which wasn’t a bad thing. Tentatively, you reached forward and scratched the creature behind the ears, a gesture she appeared to enjoy.

Once again, a pair of dark green eyes (much like the colors of a forest) were staring at you rather intensely. “Looks like you’ve got some interesting company,” you tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Damn right he does!” Griffon squawked.

“I’m a bit jealous, I must say. It has been me, myself, and I for many long years,” you said with downcast eyes. “I think this is the most interaction I’ve had in quite some time.” V merely nodded at your comment, to which you sighed. I won’t get much out of this guy.

A loud groan and gurgle came from V’s stomach, cutting the tense feeling. You couldn’t completely suppress your giggle. “I’m hungry myself.” It was an honest comment. “Wanna find something to eat in Red Grave?”

“I don’t have any money,” he replied, looking to the side with a chagrined expression.

You knew you really needed all the money you had to pay Morrison to pay the devil hunter, but you made an offer anyways. “My treat as long as you don’t expect anything expensive.”

“I already owe you a debt, and it seems I’m about to tack on another expense,” V sighed.

“Don’t worry,” you laughed, “I don’t expect anything. Not that there’s anything you can do to repay me for your life anyways,” you winked.

The comment actually garnered a small smile from the man. “Let us be off then,” he gestured forward. “I should be able to walk just fine now,” V reassured you with a spin of his cane as you moved closer in case you had to catch him again.

The two of you walked in step with one another. Despite it being quiet, you were actually quite comfortable. It amused you when V was the one to break the silence. “What are you?” He asked, still looking forward.

“Hmm,” you hummed as you pondered upon your answer. “How about instead of answering straight up, I propose a little game.” Finally turning to look upon your face, V quirked his brow. “We can do a little quid pro quo. You tell me something about yourself, and I’ll tell you something about myself--and vice versa, of course. The only catch is that our answers must be equivalent to what the other said,” you explained, pointing a finger in the air.

V grinned. “Fair enough.” Again, the two of you fell into silence once more.

Deciding to get the ball rolling, you piped up, “I’m in the city to find a devil hunter. Perhaps you’ll think I’m crazy, but something is coming.” It was a comment you said in all seriousness.

His reply astonished you. “I am as well. I hope to enlist the help of the same devil hunter before the damage comes to pass.”

“Perhaps we should continue being together for the day if that’s your goal. I’m meeting with the intermediary today,” you clarified.

“I hate relying on others,” V put a head to his forehead. “But I agree that is for the best.” You nodded in agreement.

Again, you found yourself in the back streets of Red Grave City, but this time, you were with a companion. You absent-mindedly fiddled around with your most precious treasure--an intricately twisted black-metal ring set with a blue opal. But it wasn’t long before a woman’s panicked voice brought you back to reality. The two of you peeked around the corner to see three men robbing a woman. You took a step forward, but Griffon opened his wing ahead of you.

“Things will get messy if you get involved. Stay out of it.” He then warned V, “And you’re not a demon. If you get shot, you’re dead.”

The men demanded her necklace. “Please, anything but that… It’s a memento of my mother,” she nearly sobbed. But she gave it up as one of them put a gun to her head. You felt a sense of disgust bubble up in you as you thought of your own memento, the ring. V seemed to share your sentiment as his face paled and brows furrowed.

Suddenly, V was slipping, knocking over a trash can and catching the people’s attention. “I should have fed you some mice after all!” Griffon screeched. It wasn’t long before the men began approaching V. You slowly began to reach for the dagger hidden in your boot; however, you tsk-ed at the fact that guns are certainly faster than knives. One of the thieves continued to threaten your tattooed companion over money he didn’t have (you were footing the food costs, after all).

Your eyes widened as the man smashed V in the face with his gun. You rushed and held him before his head could smack across the concrete. “Ha ha. You’ve gotta treat yours and your girlfriend’s life with more care…”

The sound of flesh being pierced hit your ears, and a rush of sharp, black tendrils continued to lash out. “That’s my line,” V coldly replied. “And it looks like you’ve put it in a bad mood.” The black matter continued gurgling, bubbling, and growing around you two. Repeatedly, it punctured the three men’s bodies. Their cries of agony rang out. Soon enough, they were bloody and debilitated.

“Huh, neat,” you softly spoke. V bent over to begin picking up the money, and you followed suit. Three thuds and a cries of agony sounded behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see them lying in pools of blood.

“Why are you moaning like it hurts? It’s just a dream,” V looked at them with disdain in his eyes.

Your gaze turned to the original victim who was trembling with fear. “Stay away stay away stay away!” She screamed. “Please don’t kill me! I’ll give you money.”

“That money is already ours, nobody’s asking for your--” You squeezed Griffon’s beak shut as V carefully dropped her necklace in front of her. Did she even notice? Or was she too busy shuddering? You didn’t really care about the answer, and soon enough, both of you were turning and walking away.

“You look kinda angry,” Griffon pointed out.

Putting a finger to your chin in fake thought, “His expression is pretty sour, huh?” You laughed with the bird. V only sighed and kept walking. Curiosity swelled up in you. “Are those guys gonna die and bleed out or somethin’?”

“And if I said yes?”

You shrugged. “Can’t say I care all that much. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

V simply stared at you for a moment. “You’re… amusing.” The compliment surprised you.

A laugh passed from your lips. “I don’t think anyone's ever said that about me. I think people find me to be more along the lines of scary.”

“Hard to find the person who saved me scary.”

“You just haven’t seen enough of me yet,” you gave him a wink. “Ah, there!” You pointed to a burger stand. “It’s probably cheap as shit, and now we have some extra cash to actually get separate meals. But first, let’s clean this up.” You brought your shirt sleeve to his face and wiped the blood off him. “Much better.” It was soft, but you were pretty sure you heard a ‘thank you.’

As one would expect from fast food, the two of you finished the transaction quickly and found a wall to sit against. It didn’t take long for you to dig into your food, starting with the fries. On the other hand, V sat there examining his burger. A confused expression took over your features. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t want to get sauce on myself,” he stated matter-of-factly. You snorted and even Griffon came out to laugh.

“Seriously, that’s your damn problem?”

“I don’t want to be dirty.” Despite his words, hunger seemed to have won the battle of eating versus worrying about sauce. V had predicted it correctly though--sauce did indeed drip on his pants. Silently, you set napkins in his lap. “Thanks,” he said through a mouthful of food.

As the two of you finished your meals in quietude, you took notice of the darkening sky. With a stretch, you stood up and shook your legs out. Noticing he was still sitting down, you offered your hand to V. He stared at it for a moment, but took it anyway. You flashed him a soft smile. “We should probably get going if we hope to meet with that man Morrison today.”

Making your way to the bar, you observed more and more things about your partner for the day. Firstly, he didn’t need his cane--for walking at least. Other than his moments of fatigue, his gait was entirely normal. But if he didn’t need it for walking, what did he need it for? Secondly, you noticed that when his familiars Griffon and Shadow emerged, the ink of his tattoos came out with them; however, some color remained. Did that mean there was another you had yet to see? There was no denying that V was a man of mystery. You reached the bar before you could ponder further.

“You comin’ in?”

V shook his head. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Alright, shouldn’t take too long,” you nodded to him. You squinted as you stepped into the dimly lit room. At the bar itself, you noticed a man in a hat. It seemed like he was trying to keep a lower profile, so it was likely that that was your man. “Morrison?” You approached him.

“Ah,” Morrison called out your name. “Nice to see you again,” he shook your hand then lowered his voice. “So you have a job?”

“Yes, it is very important that I see this Dante. I have the money,” you showed the bills to him. “Oh, and I also met another man who wants to propose the same job to him,” you added.

“Is that so?” This Morrison man did seem surprised by what you said. He turned around to say goodbye to the employees. “Let us be off then.”

You and Morrison exited the bar, and you reunited with V. “It’s all set up,” you informed him, to which he nodded in response.

Soon enough, the three of you arrived at your destination--Devil May Cry. Morrison went ahead of you two to deliver the job to the legendary hunter Dante. Your gaze turned to V, but he appeared to be having an inner dialogue going on. Eh, I don’t care to interrupt. It was V who broke the silence. “Are you ready to go in?”

“After you,” you gestured, pulling the door open. A mere moment after, you finally looked upon what would (hopefully) be the man to take on your job. Dante was a ruggedly handsome man with silver hair, blue eyes, and a bit of stubble. All in all, he was pleasant to look at, even if his eyes were full of skepticism as he sized you and V up. Dante’s gaze flicked up to Morrison once more though when he told the devil hunter that he was bringing two other people onto the job. The notion seemed to offend him, but he took it with a huff anyways.

A quiet moment passed. “Alright, so for starters… What are your names?” You offered yours up then looked to V.

“ I have no name; I am but two days old…”

Both you and Dante looked at him strangely. Oh, I see. He's reciting a poem. You recalled the pieces you had read while waiting for him to wake up.

“Just kidding. You can call me ‘V,’” he said with a seemingly amused expression before closing his book.

“Okay then you two. Why don’t you tell me everything about this job?” Dante wore an expression that seemed to scream boredom.

You turned and allowed V to explain the situation. “A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante.”

“Ha!” Dante exclaimed. It was a reaction you were not expecting. “Now that’s a familiar tune.” He began listing off the requests he’s been given with a certain cockiness. “All of them were kind of a let down.”

“This is special…”

“What’s so special about this one?” You were curious yourself, you didn’t realize how much more V knew about this situation than you did. You were acting on feelings and intuition, but this ebony-haired man seemed to know the issue intimately.

“This demon is your “reason,” V continued, “Your reason for fighting, Dante.”

Dante was quiet before asking, “This demon got a name?”

A smile graced V’s lips. “Vergil.”

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missingartist · 5 years

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The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 6

Jaskier glared up at the man on the horse. Geralt has been his usual brooding self, riding atop of his trusty stead, the only difference since leaving Brightwater was now his had company in the saddle. Thrown across the worn brown leather, a sleeping form burrowed into the Witchers chest. The mop of curls fanned across her face hiding her, as she slept dreamlessly. Geralt had wrapped his cloak around her, as he lifted her up to sit side-saddle on his lap as he rode, protecting her against onlookers who sought to catch a glimpse of flesh. Dresses not being the most appropriate to ride in. The bard felt conflicted, Geralt was his friend, but he had just witnessed the Witcher buy a person from the inn. Not just a person a young women.

He was observing the side of her face that peeked out from her tightly wrapped form. The girl looked younger than him; her face was softly defined, innocent and pretty, more than pretty, striking, the type of girl who had suiters painting her likeness to try and win her hand or writes her poetry, now she was slung over a Witcher’s saddle, nestled against his chest.

‘You just brought a person. I can’t believe it. You brought a person.’ Jaskier finally screeched into the air. They had been travelling for more than five days, his mind preparing an elegant argument, demanding to know what was going on, but instead, a splutter of words fell from his lips. ‘you actually brought someone. You do some pretty dark shit, questionable things but you have never brought a person. Let alone a girl. What are you going to do with her? Actually don’t tell me, not actually do, no don’t. I know what happens to those poor orphan girls. I just can’t believe you would buy one…’

‘I brought her freedom, bard.’ Geralt grunted, looking down at the snuggling girl.

The Witcher looked down at the sleeping woman, whatever Cersi has blown in her face had rendered the women into a deep sleep, but he could see signs that the substance was lifting, but there was enough space between Brightwater and the road they were on to deter her from running off. Adva shifted and mumbled something indecipherable before she repositioned herself in the crook of his neck, her lips brushed against his golden skin, sending a shiver of pleasure down his body. The last two days had been pure torture, to feel her warmth through his thick armour was the worst suffering he had ever endured, he wanted nothing more than to strip them both of them of every stitch of clothing and feel skin upon skin. Geralt groaned lowly as her lips ghosted over his skin. The sooner he reached Kaer Morhen, and Vesemir, the better, whatever this bond was between them was not something he knew of, it was unknown territory and therefore dangerous. Geralt only wish was that she remained asleep till they got there.

‘What… so she is going to be free, you freed her… actually freed her. She can leave… get on with her life.’ Jaskiers face broke into a bright smile. ‘I knew you wouldn’t do a thing like that; there is a place in Vevan that we could leave her, a friend of mine owns a tavern… said he would leave it to me one day ha! Rosemary and Thyme, it is a decent place, she would be looked after there.’ the singer gushed.

Geralt ignored the bard and rode on a few more feet till he came to a perfect patch of land and dismounted, carefully to stop the girl from falling as he went. Letting her slide down the saddle, he carried her bridal style to the foot of a tree. Gentilly, the hunter, brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His shark-like eyes followed her features, pale honey skin and plump pink lips parted with a soft snore. Geralt smiled tenderly as he rubbed his calloused thumb over her parted lips.

‘Bronn is a decent man; he will keep her. His son is about her age; you never know it could be fate. Would make an interesting song.’ Jaskier grinned plopping himself down in the stump of a tree.

A vicious growl rose in the monster hunters throat. ‘She isn’t going anywhere, Adva is staying with me and not going near any tavern owners son.’

‘So she is free…to stay with you.’ Jaskier gawked.

‘Hmmm.’

‘Geralt… you have been hunting monsters too long, your beginning to act like one. Adva is a person, living breathing women, whom some dark wizard tried to set a Griffin on and then got sold and knocked out with weird powder. How do you think she is going to react when she wakes up…. She is going to wake up, right?’

‘Listen to me Bard and listen well.’ Geralt gritted out as he menacingly took a step closer. ‘There are things happening that you cannot comprehend, things that even I don’t fully understand. Adva will be staying with me till I figure out what is happening; whether you like it or not, if you get in my way I will unseem you balls to brain, understand…. I liked you better when you didn’t talk, the last five days have been bliss.’ Geralt grunted as he laid out his bedding and carefully tucked Adva in.

Jaskier eyed him with care, the grump side of him was expected but never this…hostile. The singer watched as Geralt pulled the blanket around her shoulders, never in the entire time he had known the cranky man had he seen Geralt this tender, aside from Ciri, but this was different. Even with Yennefer, there was not this level of this…sweetness; the care was considerate and almost loving. Geralt was sure to put her on his bedding each night they stopped, kept the fire going and rubbed a cooling lotion on her side. Adva’s side was healing nicely no longer the harsh crimson. The singer watched as the monster hunter pulled a dead leaf from the mass of curls before he stood adjusting his sword on his back as he moved.

‘I am going to get wood, keep on eye on Adva.’ Geralt grunted as he marched off into the wilderness.

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Jaskier strummed his lute idly, and his eyes lingered over the sleeping form. The fading light brushed against her hair softly; it made her appear angelic, she skin glowed lowly, she was indeed stunning, swan-like neck leading to a voluptuous figure. A million questioned threw through the singer’s mind; this girl seemed normal, innocent, just another girl caught up in the mess of the world. But nothing was as it seemed, he saw her launch a blast of water at the Griffin, saw it attach her, saw Tradi madness that consumed his eyes, even in his dying moments that rage still filled his mind.

The bard began to hum along as he plucked at the chords, brows furrowed as he stared at the sleeping form as she stirred before snuggling back down. Jaskier had lost count of the years he had known Geralt, and he trusted him, for all his menacing and boarish ways, and despite his protest, Geralt always did the right thing because at heart he was a hero and that is why Jaskier trusted him. Jaskier trusted Geralt not to do anything underhand but there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t put into words. The thought slipped from his mind as a soft gasp caught his attention as the swaddled figured bolted upright.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva blinked, her eyelids fluttered several times as the world in front of her came into focus. The sky above her was transitioning from day to night; the light was just descending into darkness. The trees where willows, the leaves were dangling over her, gently dancing the wind above her. The women pressed her eyes together as a pinched pain throbbed at the bridge of her nose.

Groaning, Adva pushed herself up on her elbows sleepily taking in her surroundings. It was a clearing, surrounded by a dense wall of foliage, vivid greens and soothing browns. Across from her, the young poet from the tavern stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. Pushing herself up further the blanket she had been enveloped in fell to her waist, and the sweet scent of spiced wood bombarded her senses.

‘Your awake!’ the bard exclaimed as stood placing his lute against the fallen tree he had been resting on.

‘Where am I?’ Adva said shakily, eyes narrowing at the man who stood hesitantly as she unsteadily stood to her feet. She felt as weak as a newborn calf; she managed to make a couple of steps before her legs gave up from under her. Jaskier lurched forward clamping his arms around her, as they collapsed in a pile.

Having his crouch pushed up against a plush butt was something Jaskier enjoyed immensely and the squirming made the sensation all the more pleasurable. After all, he was a man and the position would make even the most devoted man feel something but Jaskier, though he was many things was a gentleman. Squirming out from under her, he was able to pull her up against the fallen tree and flop back next to her.

Adva roughly rubbed her eyes as she tried to get her world back into focus; her mind was a flurry of pictures and noise. The last thing she remembers was… Tradi, the Griffin… gods the Griffin…. Her side and then Cersi and the Witcher and that weird powder.

‘Oh, my gods……Oh no…no…no’ Adva hissed as she tried to stand.

‘Shhhhhhhh shhhhhhh please be quiet it okay!’ Jaskier cooed. ‘Geralt…Geralt….. Gods sake where is he…how long does it take to collect some firewood.’ Jaskier muttered to himself.

‘Be quiet! Be quiet; you kidnapped me!’ Adva snapped scrambling to her feet, resting her body against the tree and her legs become slowly accustomed to taking her weight.

‘Well technically… Geralt brought you….’ Jaskier rambled before the words died suddenly on his lips as he was stared down at the furious blue eyes of a woman enraged.

Adva grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands, the silky wood of the neck of the hazel lute and swung it half-heartedly at him before her chest began to heave dramatically.

In her entire life, she had never been outside of Brightwater, her own little world, safe and comfortable, till the Griffin invaded it and god knows what Tradi had to do with it. Panic surged through her, bile rising through her throat which she swallowed back down.

‘Put me lute down… I have had it since I was 12…please...’ Jaskier begged, holding his hands out in surrender.

‘Where am I?’ she demanded.

‘We are in Kaedwen… well near Kaedwen.’ Jaskier stated inching closer, earning a harsh glare and the instrument raised slightly higher, causing him to take a step back.

‘ Kaedwen?... Kaedwen that is almost a weeks journey from Brightwater…How….How long have I been asleep?’ Adva didn’t need an answer the pity in the man's eyes was enough to tell her all she wanted to know. Cersi had put her to sleep to allow some Witcher to carry her off into the world with some paper that essentially made her his slave.

‘I need to go….I want to go back… I am leaving.’ Adva whimpered as she lowered the lute, which Jaskier snatched back and pressed it to his chest like a mother with her child.

‘Thing is…Geralt.’ Jaskier sighed in relief as the hulking figure of the Witcher silently emerged from the bushed with an extensive collection of sticks and logs. The white-haired man froze as he saw the shivering figure of the curvy brunette.

‘Fuck…’ Geralt cursed as he dropped the pile of wood and clicked his fingers with a crisp, satisfying click. ‘Igni’ and with the single word, the fire roared to life with a crackle and a spit.

Geralt had thought the powder would have lasted for another couple of days, despite all Cersi’s skill her dreamless slumber powder was well below par. Geralt growled deeply as he stood to his full height to survey the small women, her clothes were dishevelled and ragged from the 5-day ride, feature tight with terror as she looked between both the men. A soft tugged pulled ar his heart as she stumbled away from him as he stepped towards her, the smell of fear thick in the air.

‘How dare you!....Take me back right now.’

‘I don’t think, so me baeg yn.’ Geralt purred as he stopped in front of her.

‘Take me back right now; I am not something you can buy and sell. Take me back home.’ Adva snarled, angry filled her eyes as a laugh rolled through his body.

‘Do you really think you have a home now? Tradi set a creature free to attack the people of your city because of you. For some silly book. Your friends sold you to me without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Is that somewhere you want to go back to. Even without all that I still wouldn’t let you, if Tradi suspects something about you, something that he could use others will find out. You wouldn’t want to put others in danger…do you?’ Geralt purred in his usually velvet tone; one perfect eyebrow arched quizzicly as he looked down at her.

‘Geralt!’ The young bard shriek as he gawped at the Witcher.

Tears breamed Adva’s eyes; it was all too much. Everything had happened too fast she could keep up, it was too much to process. Everything she had ever known was gone, but if the Witcher was right how could she go back? What Tradi did was mad, he had always been obsessed with power and it was only so long before he did something like this, but Adva has never thought he would do something like that. The book was just that a book of notes, a journal of thoughts and facts, nothing to kill for. If there was really something more, something dangerous going on she wouldn’t be the one to endanger anyone.

Silent tears rolled down her face as she dry heaved into her hand and crouched down against the log. Jaskier knelt next to her as curled his arm around her as the woman shook and gagged with anxiety, tossing the Witcher a scathing look as the singer attempted to comfort her as her world collapsed around her.

Geralt eyes narrowed as he watched the cuckolding bard tended to the exkitchen maiden, a deep burn bubbled away in his gut and regret pricked against the back on his mind. This was why he didn’t talk; he only dug himself into holes. The white wolf opened and shut his mouth several times trying and failing to think of things to say to comfort. Rage simmered under his skin as Adva nudged closer into Jaskier’s shoulder as her gags stopped and her cries turned into little whimpers.

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me baeg yn- My Little One

Sorry for going AWOL for so long. Hope this makes up for my absence.

What does everyone think? I hope it meets up with expectation. Hopefully, the next chapter will have some significant Adva and Geralt interaction. Still working on how that is gonna work out. Once again if you have anything you want to see please leave a comment.

I am working on Part Two of Fated Destiny if anyone is interesting.

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt smut #the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher geralt #geralt reader

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struwwelzeter · 4 years

Text

Part 15/15

Malchow: Have you made your peace with him?

Lindemann: I visited him. He was on morphium all the time, and you start to unfurl some things. I had a new girlfriend at the time, who I dragged by the hospital. And the way it goes, then he could be at home once again. You come out of the hospital, you’ve had surgery, had radio therapy, you feel great again and you think it goes uphill again, back and forth. That goes on for about one, two months and then within two or three weeks it’s all over. It was like that for him too. But the visits in Flensburg at the hospital, that was a good, peaceful and quiet time. We even laughed a lot. Then he came home. He started working again. I wanted to go to Venezuela to surf over Christmas with Nele, my friend Matti and another friend and asked him if that was ok. I feel great, he said. So we flew down there between christmas and new years, layover in New York, and then onwards down to Venezuela. There was a bit of a revolution going on down there, a little civil war, fantastic. [I can genuinely not tell if he is being sarcastic. I think he isn’t, the way it’s phrased implies he relishes in the chaos which ... I love him, but Till? Can someone please research what was going on in Venezuela in the early 90s?] Three weeks later the vacation was supposed to be over already, so we just extended it by another three weeks. On we went to Brasil. To keep my job at the time at the «Gallery at Lake Schwerin», I got a doctors note in Venezuela for 20 dollars. After we came back I even had to go to a puplic health official doctor, because they didn’t believe the illness and Imade up just dreadful lies there. Nele was three weeks late for school, it was a huge drama. In the evening we sat at our favourite pub, the «Chagall» at Schönehauser Tor. Paul’s, our guitarist later with Rammstein, girlfriend at the time, worked there. She said immediately: «Your sister called, your father is dying, they have been looking for you since 2 weeks. You have to go right now.» I left with Nele right away and two days later he died. He really waited for us. Less so for me, but he wanted to see his grandchild one more time. My mother was there too when he fell asleep.

Malchow: Were your parents still together at that point?

Lindemann: Yes, they couldn’t do without each other, even though they drifted apart. The stark thing is, my mother never had a man again. She can’t let him go until today.

Malchow: So back to the book, to his language, which deeply impressed me. I think there are a fee similarities too. He has a unique, expressionist style in this, for exemple when he describes nature, about weather, the animals he observes, the landscape.

Lindemann: Like me, he started with writing poetry and that was were his strength was. For him, like for me, it’s alot more difficult to tell a story, to write narrative literature. I admire those who can do that. I think that is the most difficult. If you have that foundation of poetry like him, that rhythm, if you think in comparisons and images and then start to marrate, you can feel it. The poetic remains. That’s why it gets a little «flowery» in the text sometimes. It has it’s very own unique style. Remarkable!

The End

———-

If you feel like it ends sudden - it does. I kinda felt that too.

This was bittersweet but was very rewarding too, and I’ll miss it. If anyone ever has any Rammstein related (or just interesting stuff in general) content that they need translated, please forward it to me :)

#werner lindemann #till lindemann #mike oldfield im schaukelstuhl

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yehet-me-up · 4 years

Note

*busts through the door like I'm the Kool-Aid man* BONJOUR FUCKERS I'M BACK!!! It is I, the Theatrical Gay Anon™! I hope you're ready to endure my endless babbling for a bit cuz I've got lots to say holy shit. Consider this part 1 of like, 1000 cuz I think Tumblr got rid of the submissions feature. I apologize in advance for the spam hehe.

Okay, with that out of the way. Ms. Yehet-Me-Up, may I call you Sarah? Sarah, what the fuck!? I can't even rn. I I give you a simple suggestion, no expectations behind it. I say "Hey, don't you think it'd be cool if Zitao was in the Exodus Mall universe?" to which you said "Yeah, that'd be neat, I might do that. Perhaps make him work at an Irish pub or something" and then I flip out with gratitude and excitement thinking you're gonna do like, a DRABBLE. 500 words at MOST -Theatrical Gay Anon

Imagine my SHOCK, my STUPEFACTION, upon realizing that you wrote OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS about Huang Zitao aka the wind beneath my wings, the rain to my drought, the corny joke to my Junmyeon. And not only that! But you did this A MONTH AGO. I could've been reading this for so long and I had no idea! How foolish am I? I can't believe you wrote all of this based off of a silly little suggestion I made. I feel like bowing over how not worthy I am Wayne's World style -Theatrical Gay Anon

NOW IN REGARDS TO THE CONTENT OF THIS MASTERPIECE OH MY GOD WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN!? I am floored by your preeminence. First things first, the title? Perfect. Full disclosure, I suck at titles. I've been writing for over a decade now and I'm still shit with titles. It's so hard to come up with just a few words to encapsulate everything you wrote but you do it SO WELL. The moodboard? Amazing. I've always loved that picture of Zitao and it fits so well with the pub setting -Theatrical Gay Anon

I'm afraid you've written "Fractions of Tomorrow" so well that I don't see there being a need for anyone to write anything else...ever. Stories? CANCELED. Poetry? CANCELED. Biographies? CANCELED. It's all over folks. Sarah has written The Best Thing Ever. We've peaked as a society. After I finish writing these asks I'm gonna become a hermit in the woods and make friends with all of the woodland creatures that inhabit it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

But seriously though, I love absolutely everything about this story. As a Zitao fan, I'm used to getting breadcrumbs. Not a lot of ppl write fics about him. I can count on one hand how many long fics of his you can find on Tumblr. But THIS?? This was no breadcrumb, this was a whole fucking bakery. And it all appeals to me so much oh my god? The sappiness of it all, the flowery prose, the rebellious rejection of cynicism, it's all so beautiful I want to marry it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

If I discussed all of the sentences in this fic that made me giggle with joy and kick my feet around I'd be here all day so keep in mind this is just a FRACTION of the ones I loved but I couldn't go without mentioning at least some of them so here we go. "It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention" SHUT UP this line is go good it's so simple yet so nuanced I adore it. Seriously, why hasn't anyone hired you to write a screenplay? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles" God, this line is so CUTE it's DISGUSTING he's fond of the reader's un-wrinkled clothes that's such a specific thing to like and is totally the type of thing I've done with the ppl I've crushed on throughout my life. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Zitao,’ he says finally. ‘Cute.’ You say" this is such a little thing but I love that you included his full name in this. I love his full name so much it sounds really pretty. Whenever I hear him refer to himself as "Huang Zitao" in interviews my heart soars. Hearing him speak Mandarin in general is a delight as well. It's an audibly gorgeous language and any racist who says otherwise can EAT MY ENTIRE ASS -Theatrical Gay Anon

"For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature" DEAR GOD I LOVE THESE TWO! I love these movie loving lovesick fools. I love that everyone in the world knows they love each other except them. I love seeing bits and pieces of their story throughout this written universe. I can't wait to see it all come together in Baekhyun's Exodus Mall fic. It's gonna be GLORIOUS -Theatrical Gay Anon

Also! I know you enjoyed my song recs that I thought fit perfectly with All Our Broken Places so here are some for when the Baek x Hitchcock fic drops. I know it's not done yet but I just *know* what it's gonna be like I can feel it in my bones. "Sidekick" by Walk the Moon and "Tongue Tied" by Grouplove. As for Fractions of Tomorrow I knew right away what songs I'd pick. "Dreams" by The Cranberries, "Jumpstarted" by Jukebox the Ghost and "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey -Theatrical Gay Anon

Gosh, this fic filled me with so much energy and joy I feel like a toddler on caffeine. But I really should sleep now though. It's gotten so late that I can see the sunrise peaking up sdksdksl. I'll see ya soon! I will be spamming you with more compliments about this fic once I wake up though! - Theatrical Gay Anon

Hi! I'm back. Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about some of my favorite lines from the story. "‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you. ‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh." I LOVE that you made Baek the one Zitao was close with. I miss the beef brothers so much. I'll never forgive SM for what they did to OT12. They were all such good friends 😔 -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you." GOD, HE WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS! HE'S SUCH A SHAMELESS FLIRT I HATE HIM *narrator voice* This was of course a huge a lie, he in fact loved Zitao immensely -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’" You've captured Zitao's unlimited confidence so well and that makes me really happy. It's one of my favorite things about him. The man truly loves himself and I think that's awesome -Theatrical Gay Anon

"Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’ 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?’" ASDKDSDSL SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA SAY THAT PANTY DROPPER LINE AND GO BACK TO BUSINESS AS USUAL ZITAO???? HUH??? IS THAT WHAT WE'RE GONNA DO??? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’" Something I love about EXO fic writers (myself included lol) is that despite all of the different ways they'll write the other members, there is one member who is always written the same and that's Baekhyun. He will always be written as a cheeky little shit cuz he *is* a cheeky little shit. That's just who he is. Messing with ppl is a favorite past time of his. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"'So, love, huh? There’s not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?’" Thank you for not being heteronormative with the "are you dating someone?" convo. I know it might not seem like much but I really appreciate it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm" OOF, this one got me. So very true. The beginning of love is so scary! -Theatrical Gay Anon

"I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it" OKAY BUT PASSIONATE LEATHER JACKET WEARING ANARCHIST ZITAO IN A ROCK BAND IS SUCH AN ATTRACTIVE CONCEPT!!! There's nothing sexier than a bad boi that will hate capitalism with you! He'd probably be the one to give ppl rides to protests and stuff I LOVE IT -Theatrical Gay Anon

"If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?" Listen I don't mean to be dramatic or anything (wait, who am I kidding? I'm literally the Theatrical Gay Anon being dramatic is like my Thing) but if a guy ever said that to me my trans boi pussy would be open for business IMMEDIATELY

Alright, so, uh Final Thoughts. This may be my new favorite work of yours, and no it's not just cuz it's got my ultimate bias in it lmao. This year has been so shitty and it's made my depression + anxiety reach the highest possible levels but reading this, this love story filled with hope and certainty despite not knowing what the future will hold for them, made this year seem easier to cope with. Thank you so much for making this, it means the world to me. -Theatrical Gay Anon

ALRIGHT, LAST ASK AND THEN I'LL SHUT UP I PROMISE but I personally headcanon that Double Shot + Zitao stayed together till the very end. They didn't get married cuz they hate formalities but they got matching tattoos and even when they're old and grey you can still them clear as day on their wrists. When they're asked how they met no one believes their answer lol. And when Double Shot died of old age before Zitao he would sing her favorite song by her grave every Saturday -Theatrical Gay Anon

OKAY SO I know I said I was done and I know I've already sent in like, 30 bajillion asks but I'm curious does Yifan or Luhan also work at the Irish pub?? Or do they work somewhere else in the mall? Inquiring minds want to know -Theatrical Gay Anon

When I tell you this made my entire month (when you sent it weeks ago, I’ve been hanging onto these because they seriously bring me SO much joy holy crap) I am not remotely kidding j;oaisjdflkasdjfa

I am absolutely going to put on these song recs while I work on the next chapter!

a;osdfjlaksdfjasl the fact that you stayed up late to read this warms my heart so much. It reminds me of all the times I stayed up til the ass crack of dawn reading fanfics because I simply could NOT stop reading, so the fact that you enjoyed this like that makes me helllllaaaa emo 🥰

I just??? 2020 was indeed such a long year and affected my energy and creativity and honestly don’t really remember writing this hahaha. I kind of go into a fugue state with these longer fics and they just EMERGE. So to see you reflecting back some of what I wrote allows me to enjoy the process so much more. Makes writing and tumblr fun and I seriously wish everyone writing and creating could have someone as passionate and thoughtful and hilarious as you hyping them up 🌟 it honestly feels like a GIFT and I will absolutely keep writing this series and hoping to be worthy of it 😘

We will definitely get to see more of these two in the finale fic! I got into EXO after Tao, Yifan, and Luhan left so I’m not quite as familar with their personalities, but I could definitely see Yifan working at the US Bank haha. Business suit by day and partying/flirting by night. As for Luhan I feel like he’d work somewhere like the bookstore or the music store?? somewhere quieter and more contemplative.

Thank you again for sending this and for being you <3 I hope 2021 is a wonderful year for you and that you know how AMAZING you are 💖💖💖💖💖

#asks #theatrical gay anon

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finita--la--commedia · 5 years

Note

hello! back again to ask about Marina Tsvetaeva. I haven't read any of her work, and was wondering whether you still think starting with her letters would be best? (again, haven't read anything of hers)! If so, what letters would you specifically suggest to start with? otherwise, if u think beginning with some of her other work would be better - pls tell me what! thank you so much. Always in awe of your blog. many blessings x

[ it is going to be a lengthy post ]

Letters. Still – letters. Reading them, you will be able to see and feel her astounding, absolutely unique, “undressed” and tormented Soul and with that, to truly understand and feel through, – her prose and poetry … In her case, it is important.Everything about Tsvetaeva, you must feel and hear. Never “read” or, God forbid, - ”understand”. Here is the reference to the book of her letters on Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/283216.The_Letters_of_Marina_Tsvetaeva?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=fvbRr8HRYi&rank=2It contains 800 letters. I never read that translation and I pray to God, - it is good. You don’t have to read all of them, I will give you the list of the correspondents with the commentaries below, so you knew who those people were. Also, you can read the letters and other works, like poetry, at the same time. Why not ?But…. the letters – first 😊 The spelling of the names may slightly vary in that book. Note that all those letters she wrote while being married. 1. To Nikolay Gronsky (1909-1934). A must read. They met in Spring of 1928, in Paris. Gronsky was 18 and Tsvetaeva – 36. A young talented poet, he was later tragically killed in a metro accident: hit by a subway car in the Paris metro, he was just 25. A suspiciously strange accident, indeed …. Yet, Tsvetaeva always believed it was, in fact – “an accident”. After he died, at the time, when their communications were already over, Tsvetaeva dedicated him a cycle of poems “Gravestone”:“Where did you go ? … Your soul —where did it go ? … Your face — where did it go ? Your face, your warmth,your shoulder — where did it go ?”

They took long walks and exchanged letters, which indicate that Tsvetaeva had a deeper attachment than that of a poetic master to a pupil, but by the late Autumn, their communication faded away … From her letter to him:“… a thirst for THAT OTHER self —not of the world of ideas,but of the chaos of hands and lips.

A thirst for the secret self.

The last self.

The imaginary self …”You can also read her letters to Pasternak, but I deeply dislike him as a person … for what he did to Tsvetaeva and what he did not do for her daughter and her son, because he was simply a disgusting coward. I do believe that Pasternak hugely contributed to what happened to her whole family, its tragedy and her suicide. By the way, the rope Tsvetaeva hanged herself on, was accidentally, given by Pasternak, when she needed to wrap her suitcase when evacuating. It is painful to read her Love letters to him, knowing all that and more. She was trustful and naïve. Not because she was a fool, but because she so strongly and stubbornly wanted to believe in the goodness of the humanity when there was and is – none.

2. To Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)Her letters to Rilke are all over the Internet I gave you the link to their correspondence in my previous reply to you. They never met, but wrote to each other intensely from May 1926 until Rilke’s abrupt death in December of leukemia. During that correspondence, Tsvetaeva fell in Love with him. She was 34 and he was 51.

Quotes from her letters to him:“For my soul is well-bred.” “Rainer, dusk is falling, I love you.”“Beloved, come to me often in my dreams. No, not that. Live in my dreams. Now you have a right to wish and to fulfill your wishes”3. To Alexander Bakhrah (1902-1977)He was 20, she was 31. At that time, he was just a young critiс Tsvetaeva had never met. She lived in Chekhia (Czechoslovakia) and he – in Berlin. She responded to his critical article on her poem and the epistolary affair had started. He published all her Love letters to him only in 1960 … “modestly” cut 1/3 out of them… 19 letters (1923), one (1924) and one (1928), when Love was already gone. Later those letters were re-published in full. No letters from him were saved.He caught her interest … and just like with Vishnyak and Pasternak before, and with Rilke, Shteiger, – later, she poured out at him all her immensity … And just like with everyone listed above, he simply couldn’t handle it.Then she met and fell in Love with someone else, in the real life: with Konstantin Rodzevich and this correspondence, as well as her Love to Bakhrah, – ended. Quotes from the letters to Bakhrah:“You have not understood my letter. You didn’t read it carefully. You didn’t take in my tenderness, nor my care, nor my human pain for you. You didn’t even understand me in myself: “and does it really matter - who is hurt ?! - to experience someone’s pain as your own – all of it you didn’t get .”“I cannot love myself, because I love; and don’t want to, because I love him.”4. To Konstantin Rodzevich (1895-1988)She was 28 and he was 31. They met in 1923 in Prague.Years later, Tsvetaeva confessed that Konstantin Rodzevich was her only true Love in life: the man who cared less about her poetry and till the very old age never understood what she Loved him for. He believed that she created a person he was not and fell in Love with that imaginary hero. Many thought and still do that the son she gave a birth to in 1925 was from him. The quote from her letter to him:“I’ve loved everything, I knew how to love everything except the other, the other who was alive. The other has always bothered me; it was a wall against which I broke, I didn’t know how to live with the living. Hence my feeling that I was not a woman but a Soul.You simply have loved me … I told you: there is a Soul. You said: there is a Life.”5. To Abram (Abraham) Vishnyak (1893-1944)I told you about him and Tsvetaeva in my previous reply. She published her letters to him and one of his in “Florentine nights. Nine Letters with a Tenth Kept Back and an Eleventh Received”.Quotes from her letters to him:“What is it to forget a human being ? - It is to forget what one suffered through him …”“Such things do not hurt me any longer, you accustomed me to them, you and everyone else …”“My total forgetfulness and my absolute failure to recognize you today are but your absolute presence and my total absorption of yesterday. As much as you were — as much you are no longer. The absolute presence in reverse. Such a presence cannot but become such an absence. Everything yesterday, nothing today.”“You make me soft (humanize, feminize, animalize) like fur.”“All these last years, my life has been so different, so hard, so icy that now I can only raise my shoulders and my eyebrows: is this me ?You soften me (make me more human, more woman, more animal) as fur does.”5. To Anatoly Shteiger (1907-1944). An absolutely must read. She was 44 and he was 29. There are 30 letters of hers saved to him from 1936 and only one to her, plus some excerpts she saved in her notes and as references to them in her letters to him. He was a young Russian emigrant-poet who lived in Switzerland, I posted a couple of quotes from his poems here. When they started an extensive correspondence, Tsvetaeva lived in Paris. A personal meeting between them took place only briefly before the correspondence had started, then he wrote her a deeply-confessional 16-pages letter to which she responded and this is how it started. She fell in Love with him. In the last, the only saved letter, he reminded her that in that first long confessional letter he tried very hard to explain to her that he was homosexual. She did not understand, didn’t catch it or, rather, what I think and believe, – she did not want to understand or catch. What she saw was only this: a young, broken-hearted man from a previous relationship, who is very ill with a tuberculosis, about to have a lung surgery and who came to her for a help. So she ran to help him, fell in Love, because she felt being needed. This what Tsvetaeva was about … As I say and write about myself: “I am there where I am needed. Make me believe I am needed … and my Soul will be yours … ”. She was the same. Quotes from her letters to him:

“I am longing for you. Never — without you. As — to be longing for a bread — means to be taken by thoughts about it. To be longing without a bread — means to be swallowed by it. Never in my life I’ve been longing – without a person. One thing — an overflow, another — emptiness. I will never be empty — by you. — I hope. (I think, I have never been empty even for a second).”

“And whether you like it or not, I already took you within, where I take everything cherished, without even contemplation, seeing it already within. You are my capture and catch, like today’s remnant of a Roman viaduct, with the dawn that breaks through and plunges in more faithfully and more eternally than the river Loing, into which it forever gazes at itself.”“But you, at certain moments, are I — to the point of strangeness”“Now I am thinking about you: thinking — you”“Your letter has gored my icy scurf, it opened up my own vibrant abyss – where you immediately and fully have engulfed yourself.”“I tell you in advance – whatever you will be, when you enter through my door, – I will be loving you anyway, because I love you already, because – the miracle has happened – and this is only about the degree of pain – the better you will be – the worse it will be – to me.”When she, finally understood the reason, why he couldn’t return her Love …. she wrote him a bitter and hurtful letter to which he responded:“Yes, you can be colder than a star if you want. I was always afraid of it.”In that last, the only saved letter, the young Shteiger with a wisdom of an old man, pointed out, in a form of a light and polite accusation, as a plain sad fact, at one of the very important characteristics of Tsvetaeva, that accompanied all to one of her relationships: all men that she ever Loved – she simply created in her exceptional unique imagination. She had to … to bring them closer to the level of the richness, vastness and the immensity of her Soul. But there were consequences: soon or later, that “image” fell off … So, Shteiger wrote to her: “You are so “powerful” and “rich”, you recreate the people you meet in your own way, but when their real, authentic image comes out, after all, – you get astonished of the vanity of those on who that “gleam” of yours is no longer applied by you…But what does the Person might feel when that created “image” of yours is no longer applied on him by you ? After you created it, enjoyed it and then – stop seeing it in him ?” . It is so very true. I do the same … From her last letters to him:“… I loved you as who I am, which is difficult to explain … ““That was a blow to my chest (in which you resided) and, if I did not fall down — then only because no human force can knock me flat any more, because I no longer permit this to humans, because I will die — standing up”“How many times ? Don’t I know that everything ends; don’t I believe that this (what is in me for you) will end one day, will ease me that I will think out of you: will become again an empty – bleak – and roomy house: domaine ?”She dedicated a cycle of poems to him “Poems To Orphans”, the 4 epigraph lines, only he could understand: “Baby walked along the road Shivering and turning blue An old woman walked that road She took pity on the orphan” Anatoly Shteiger will die of tuberculosis, in 1944 at the age of 37. So, what do you think ? Worth reading her letters first ? ***************************Now, prose and poetry.I can only recommend from what has been translated. If you spoke Russian, my recommendations would have been different. For example, I would have strongly suggested you to read her “Collated notes” and “Diary prose” she kept most of her life, but neither one of them has been translated. Some bits and pieces in various books, strangely translated as her “diaries” (!?!). Poetry.The problem with her poetry is the translation. She created words, which are untranslatable, therefore, in translation, you only get the meaning of what she wrote and in many cases, it is badly mistranslated, misinterpreted. Another thing, that she had an absolute pitch and considered the music her first language. You need to listen to her poetry in Russian to understand what she was saying in a poem … it is absolutely untranslatable. Don’t read anything translated by Elaine Feinstein. There is a special place in Hell for translators like her. She will go straight there, already reserved. Here is my short review of just 3 lines of Tsvetaeva, someone quoted, you will get an idea how bad her translations are: https://finita--la--commedia.tumblr.com/post/187285356964/your-name-is-a-kiss-of-snow-a-gulp-of-icy-springThe best translations, of her poetry, by my opinion, surprisingly, available free, on the Internet, by Ilya Shabat, a huge collection:http://lib.ru/POEZIQ/CWETAEWA/sbornik_engl.txtJust pick, randomly – any. Here is the pdf book with some of her poems I would also recommend:http://www.sumizdat.org/To_you_in_10_decades.pdfProse.

Unfortunately, I could only find one work translated into English, it is worth reading:“The Letter to Amazon” – 13 pages. You can download pdf file here, the button in the right corner, on top:https://www.researchgate.net/publication/319316122_LETTER_TO_AN_AMAZON_BY_MARINA_TSVETAEVAQuotes:“Listen to me, you do not have to respond to me, you have to just listen. This is a wound that I inflict right at your heart, at the heart of your cause, of your belief, of your body, of your heart.”“Weeping willow ! Inconsolable willow ! Willow – the body and soul of women ! Inconsolable neck of willow.”“In my youth I was quick to say to myself: I always fear letting go of the wave rising from me and carrying me to another. I always fear that I will not love anymore, that I will not learn anything anymore. But I am no longer young and I have learned to let go of almost everything – irretrievably”There is a semi-autobiographical story I would also recommend you to read, I think there is a translation: “The Tale of Sonechka”Quote:“– Marina, do you think God will forgive me for having been kissed so much ? – Do you think God counted ? – I didn’t count either.” Well … uhhhh …. let me know if you have more questions about her works, life, a family or about the correspondents I have listed above for each has a personal story.

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alphawave-writes · 5 years

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Evil actions and good intentions Chapter 7: Giving in (Sigma x Harold)

Synopsis: Harold Winston is preparing himself for a life on the run after surviving an attack that nearly cost him his life, but Sigma does not want him to go. A mysterious stranger brings both a solution and a problem.

You guys can read it here or on AO3. If you like my stuff please do consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Vishkar shows its true colours suddenly, and almost violently. In the aftermath of the shootings, they campaigned for their continued presence in Oasis. They have highlighted security deficiencies, traffic congestion, and infrastructural issues as reasons their presence is necessary within the city. There are other points they bring up, but those are the important ones that the news bring to attention when Vishkar and the Ministries begin their talks in a private forum.

Protests are enacted all throughout the city, the ranks largely consisting of disgruntled University students. They argue that Vishkar’s presence ruins the fundamental rights of Oasis’s citizens, that it distorts the original purpose of the Ministries’. Having an outside company stay within the city, especially one with such a shady reputation, spells trouble.

All this is meaningless to Sigma. It’s just an extra annoyance he has to deal with.

He is sitting in a corner of Moira’s lab as she writes her notes. Another psych examination, he was told. Moira must have caught wind that Sigma was a participant in the attack, that’s why she’s checking up on him so soon. It’s the only logical explanation.

He can’t help but let his lips purse. He’s got so many questions now, especially with the protest running rampant about the university. Usually he dares not ask questions because he respects Dr O’Deorain’s privacy, but this is something he simply cannot ignore.

“How are the talks with Vishkar?” Sigma asks.

“Fine,” Moira replies curtly. She’s still writing on her pad, her face completely blank.

After a few seconds of silence, Sigma frowns. He knows Moira keeps to herself most of the time, but recently she has been unusually tight-lipped. For some reason, it doesn’t sit well with him. “I assume because you are friends with Mr Korpal,” he continues. “You must be campaigning for Vishkar’s presence in Oasis.”

“It’s a natural progression of events. The city has become stagnant. A bit of outside help would do it wonders.” Her eyes look up from her pad, narrowing on his face. “This session is supposed to be about you.”

“I know.” He sees the curl of her lips and soon, the melody of the universe plays. Danger, danger, it sings. He grits his teeth. He doesn’t know why, but every time he hears Moira’s name or sees Moira’s face, the whispers always croon their awful tune. There must be a reason, but he can’t imagine why. His eyes stare at Moira’s right hand, wrinkled and purple.

It looks so much like Harold’s skin when Dr. Williams attacked him. Harold was so fragile back then, lying there on the ground, weak and helpless and so very old. And then afterwards, when Sigma kept Dr Williams up in the air, Harold’s angry shouts shake him to the core, threatening to unravel him from the inside out. He’s become used to the moniker of ‘Sigma’, but from Harold’s lips it sounds like a demon in disguise, a twisted monster that knows only death and destruction. He never wants to hear Harold call him ‘Sigma’ again.

Sigma tries to calm himself down but it’s too late. The items on Moira’s desk begin to rattle for a second before stopping. It does not go unnoticed by Moira, who gives them a quick glance before turning her attention back to Sigma. Her gazes sharpens.

“How have you and Dr. Winston been?”

“Fine.” His throat feels so dry all of a sudden.

“You do not have to be shy around me. I understand he is very important to you.” Her lips quirk up. “It’s good to have a companion.”

Sigma cannot count the nights Harold’s spent in his bed. Even when Harold was allowed back to his own room, he continued to stay with Sigma, reading his books, using the shower, sleeping side by side in the bed. Every morning without fail, he curls up next to Sigma and smiles dreamily. Every morning without fail, Sigma contemplates kissing Harold on the lips and knowing for sure if the passion he feels is reciprocated. It’s too late, he tells himself time and time again. Even if they love each other, it’s not meant to be. Harold is going to leave soon, prepared to live a life on the run. Sooner or later, Harold will go away, and they will never see each other again.

A part of Sigma wants to stay in Oasis. As expected, he has acquired the position in the Ministry of Physics, and it will not reflect kindly on him if he just up and leaves, especially so soon after acquiring the position. But then there’s the other part of him that wants to throw caution to the wind and be by Harold’s side till the end of time. For a while he thought that Harold needed him. Now he knew that the opposite is true.

A small sigh escapes his lips, his only response to Moira. Her smile softens but her gaze is knowing.

“It’s something more,” she remarks. “Perhaps you would like to tell me about your feelings for Dr. Winston then, Sigma?”

When did his name sound so wrong? When did the name that he took from his captors start sounding so foul? What are those discordant notes in her voice that clash horribly in his ears? Why have the dark whispers returned when his mind is so clear?

Sigma suddenly stands up from his chair. He feels queasy and wrong. Something is so wrong. “I…I-I think that is enough, Dr. O’Deorain. I should get back to my research.”

But Moira stands in front of him now, sizing him up. Her tone almost sounds sympathetic. “Are you alright, Sigma?”

“Don’t call me that!” He snarls. A wave of gravity ripples through the lab, bottles and beakers suspended in the air.

Moira blinks slowly, the only one unaffected. Her polite smile fades away, daggers darting from her eyes. Danger, danger, the whispers say. The items slowly float back down to Earth.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sigma grimaces. He clutches his head in his hand. “I-I need to go.”

“Stay,” Moira’s blackened hand grips onto his wrist tightly.

But for once Sigma disobeys her, pulling his hand free and exiting her cool, dark lab for the sweltering middle eastern sun. The sweat that sticks on his skin is a reminder that he is alive, and he is breathing, and that this truly is reality. He does not dare gaze over his shoulder. If he did, he might have seen Moira’s lips twist into a scowl.

It’s late in the afternoon when Harold comes by Sigma’s lab in the Ministry of Physics. It’s easy to tell it’s him because of the soft glide to his gait, the walk of a dancer or a royal. He stands by the entrance, his smile as warm as the inner core of a star, and just as bright. In his right hand is a bag with three shawarmas. He takes one out for himself and drops the bag right in front of Sigma’s desk.

They’re delicious, Sigma knows from previous experience, and the scent drifts ever so delicately in the air, but for some reason he’s not hungry. He’s not in the mood. “Bedankt, Harold, but I’ll eat later.”

“You don’t want to eat shawarma? Who are you and what have you done to Siebren?” Harold teases.

Sigma stares at him meaningfully. Harold’s lips dip into a frown.

“Oh,” he mumbles. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “You want to talk about it?”

There’s a part of him that wants to tell Harold his fears. It niggles in the back of his mind, telling him something isn’t right, that something is very wrong. It speaks of ceaseless violence and unending sorrow and a harness that breaks its shackles. It scares him, and the fact that he’s scared makes it all the more unnerving. But there’s no math formula to help him here. No equation that can tell him why he feels this way. All he knows is that he feels safe with Harold. He’s the one thing anchoring Sigma to the Earth, preventing him from floating up to the stars.

“I’d rather not,” he says finally. “Some other time.”

“Fair enough,” Harold sighs, taking the seat right next to Sigma. He unwraps the shawarma and takes a bite. It’s hard for Sigma not to stare. When he eats, it’s like poetry in motion. Prim and proper, without a mess or spill to be seen. Symphonies could be written to the rhythm of Harold’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, lips smacking together in satisfaction. Only Harold Winston could make eating look like a fine art.

Harold suddenly glances up, gazing back into Sigma’s eyes. As of late, nebulae sparkle behind his dark irises, glittering in prismatic colours. Sigma’s seen it before, back when he was Siebren. Back when they were very much in love.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Sigma averts his gaze back to the scattered notes across his desk. “No,” he says. “Not a speck on you.”

Harold frowns. He looks almost disappointed. “Good…” he murmurs.

“Indeed…”

Sigma goes back to his whiteboard and stares at the equations. Or at least, he tries to, but not even math can hold his attention today. He’s done absolutely no work since the psych examination with Dr. O’Deorain earlier today. His thoughts are on Talon and Oasis and Vishkar and Lucheng Interstellar and Harold. They fight for dominance over his brain. He almost misses the voices that fight for control in his mind. Almost.

“You know, I’ve prepared my stuff, Siebren. Could go any day if I wanted to,” Harold says.

Sigma can’t help but frown. “So you will leave soon then.”

His eyes glance down at his barely-eaten shawarma. He nods slowly. “Just need to figure out where to go from here.” His lips dip microscopically. “Would be great if you came along.”

“You don’t need me to protect you. You are more than capable.” You’ve proven time and time again how strong you really are, Sigma thinks but never says.

“I’m not. You saw what happened that day, I nearly died if you didn’t save me. If Tempest has a device to jam my nanobots, there must be more of them out there. And she’s still alive to tell the tale.”

“You told me not to kill her,” Sigma says pointedly.

“I know,” Harold grimaces. Quieter, he says, “I know. It’s my decision. I knew the consequences and I still chose to spare her because I’m a coward who can’t kill people. And it’s because of my cowardice that I’m even in this predicament.”

Sigma doesn’t know what to say. He can’t comfort Harold, because they both know it’s true. It could have been so easy to disguise her death as a fatal accident. It could have been so easy for Sigma to make sure she feels the same pain and suffering that Harold has felt for years. He’s killed before, and he will do it again. For Harold, he could do just about anything.

Harold stares at Sigma with cold, sad eyes. He already knows what will come out of those lips before it’s even said. “Siebren, come with me. Please.”

He expects it, but it still hurts. His heart feels like it’ll leap out of his chest. “You know I can’t,” Sigma sighs.

“Why not?”

“I’ve finally found my calling here. Under the Ministry of Physics, I can make a difference once again. Harness the harness. Learn about the mysteries of gravity.” He summons the hyperspheres in his hand. “With my abilities and their connections, I might finally unveil the universe’s true melody to all.”

Harold frowns. “But will you be happy?”

With a wave of the hand, the hyperspheres disappear. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You haven’t thought about just…retiring?” Harold asks. “You’ve already been through so much pain.”

“And joining you on a life on the run won’t put me through pain?”

Harold’s lips dip low. “I’m just thinking about your happiness, Siebren.”

“What do you know about what makes me happy?” Sigma spits.

Harold stares at Sigma for the longest time. A lifetime of love and lost flickers through his eyes before he scowls to himself, leaving only the dark emptiness of space.

Sigma forces himself to turn away. He can’t bear to look at Harold. Not now, not when the memories of their romance still linger in his mind. Not now, when he knows all too well that he will never know happiness again the day Harold Winston leaves him for good. He’s already said his final goodbye once. He doesn’t want to say it again.

“We’re different people now, Harold,” Sigma says slowly. “We’re not lovers. Haven’t been for decades.”

Harold nods microscopically. “I know,” he whispers. “We’ve changed, but…not enough. I won’t have to go on a life on the run if I had.” Harold drops his food down on the desk and approaches Sigma. “You wouldn’t let me be this close if you did.”

Sigma freezes in place. There’s a hand reaching out for his cheek, running down his neck before lying on his chest. Harold’s so close now, two smoldering embers gazing at him with the intensity of a black hole. Sigma takes in a shuddery breath, a meteor shower crashing into his chest. He can’t push Harold away, not anymore. Every instinct of his body tells him to pull him closer and never let go. It’s only by the fractured shards of his mind that he doesn’t give in. He can’t give in.

Something buzzes loudly, interrupting the moment. It’s an opening, and Sigma takes it before he may commit to one final mistake. He scrambles to his desk, running his hand on the surface wildly before he finds the culprit: his beeping phone. A message has been sent to him from the Ministries. A warning to all Ministry of Physics staff that maintenance of one of the labs will be conducted at a specific time during the weekend. It’s utterly irrelevant to him, but it’s enough of a distraction for the music to fade away on a deceptive cadence.

Harold stands there for a few seconds before turning to his half-eaten shawarma. He picks it up, frowns, then drops it into the bin by Sigma’s desk.

“It’s getting late,” Harold says finally, sounding far less confident than normal. “Might as well eat the other two shawarma on the way back.”

Sigma does not dare say a word. His quivering throat is still full of emotion. If he speaks, Harold will know all about the pain and regret that he’s kept to himself. He might even lose himself again.

They walk in silence out of Sigma’s lab. To his relief, his shawarma is still warm in its paper, preserving its taste. Apart from the sounds of Sigma’s messy chewing, it’s oddly quiet in the university courtyard despite the time of day. There’s a side of him that fears that Lucheng has already made their move, or worse, that another fatal incident has occurred without his knowledge. But as they head to the main courtyard, he sees that it’s something far worse. There are protestors outside Dynasty Hall, where the Ministries and Vishkar are currently having their talks. Vishkar’s bodyguards stand in front, photon blasters holstered on their side, stoic amongst the frenetic chants of the protestors.. The tension is thick in the air, and it stinks of violence and hatred. One small act of aggression, and there will be a fight here.

“Let’s go around,” Harold says.

But Sigma doesn’t move. He hears the whispers in his mind talking to him. Go forth, they say, observe. Slave to the voices, he walks into the crowd, the people parting to let him through.

At the front of the crowd, Satya is flanked on both sides by bodyguards. She is conversing in furtive tones to someone in an aviator jacket over a sports jumpsuit. A strange device is over her chest.

Listen, the voices insist.

Sigma’s seen her face before. But where? Why are the whispers talking to him now? What do they know?

“You have no place here,” Satya declares.

“I’m just poppin’ round, love,” the stranger smiles.

“If you are here, the reports must be true. Overwatch wants to reform itself.” Satya murmurs to herself before catching herself. Her gaze sharpens on the stranger. “Why are you here?”

“Just on the lookout. Never said anything about Overwatch.”

“Do not play games with me.”

“Overwatch?” Harold whispers beside Sigma. “I thought they’re gone.”

The crowd is murmuring in Arabic, probably about the stranger’s appearance and the potential return of Overwatch. Many are eager. Most sound concerned. They’re all staring at Satya and the stranger.

“Your presence has already disrupted harmony.” Satya waves her hand toward the crowd. “How do I expect Overwatch to bring order amongst chaos? That is why it is Vishkar’s job to bring order. Not Overwatch.”

“Perhaps Overwatch’s time is over, but the world could always use more heroes.” From her person, the stranger takes something and clasps it into Satya’s hand. It’s too small to see what it is from this distance, but it’s enough to make Satya stiffen visibly. She gazes upon it, and a myriad of conflicting emotions bubble up to the surface.

It takes Satya a while to recover her voice. She grips his fist tight, obscuring the mysterious object from sight. “You did not answer me before. Why are you here?”

The stranger’s carefree smile falls. “Ever heard of an organization called Talon?”

Satya’s eyes are as wide as saucers. The stranger nods solemnly.

“You do,” she murmurs. “Then you know why I’m here, love.”

Satya still doesn’t speak. She cannot speak anymore. She makes a gesture at her bodyguards, who push forward, barricading her from the stranger’s sight.

The stranger takes a step back, momentarily startled before springing back with a smile. She turns around and gives a two-fingered salute to the crowd. “Cheers, love. The cavalry’s here.”

Most of the crowd cheers loudly. Some mutter in disconcert. Whispers about Overwatch’s return are everywhere, clogging the once-clear air, but all Sigma can think about is her strange words. What does she want with Talon? What does Talon have to do with Overwatch?

The stranger turns around, ready to join the crowd when she suddenly stops in her track. She stares wide-eyed in their direction. It’s then that Sigma recognizes where he saw her. She was in that newspaper clipping with Winston, hugging him tightly in a friendly manner. She had a name, but the newspaper called her ‘Tracer’.

She takes a step closer, and then another, her body in a complete trance. By his side, Sigma can feel Harold quiver. Tracer’s staring at Harold, taking in every detail, comparing him to a photograph in her mind.

“You’re…Winston’s dad?” Tracer whispers, barely audible above the dim of the crowd.

Harold grips onto Sigma’s wrist tightly, pulling him away as he takes a few steps back. Sigma barely has time to give one final glance behind his back at Tracer’s confused figure before he’s led away by Harold. He can’t concentrate on the swirling emotions that must plague Harold’s mind. His thoughts are all on the hand over his wrist, impossibly warm like the sun, heating him up from the inside out.

Harold doesn’t stop until they’re back in Sigma’s room. He paces circles around the floor, staring at a blank spot on the wall. His fists are clenched by his side. His expression is pained, conflicted. Sigma moves behind Harold, ready to surround him in a hug, but he stops himself before he can commit. The tension from earlier in the lab hasn’t completely dissipated. All he needs is one little push before he succumbs once more.

“She said Winston’s dad,” Harold whispers quietly. “Not Dr. Winston. Not Harold. Winston’s dad. That’s what she called me.”

Sigma approaches slowly, carefully monitoring the distance between their bodies. “You’re…crying.”

Harold blinks rapidly before harshly swiping his fist over his eyes. He forces a smile. “S-sorry. This must look so stupid to you. I shouldn’t be crying over such a little thing.”

Sigma quells the desire to wipe Harold’s tears away himself. He wants to place a kiss on Harold’s closed eyelids and make him smile. He wants to make Harold forget that sadness is an emotion, make him forget that pain and strife run rampant in the universe. He wants to hold Harold in his arms, but he can’t. He can’t give in, no matter how much it hurts. The pain he’ll feel if he commits will be far greater, he assures himself.

Harold takes a few moments to breathe in and out. “He told that young lady that I was his dad. And she’s trying to rebuild Overwatch?”

“Sombra told me that Winston is leading the charge. Rumours say he issued a recall to all former Overwatch agents, to band together in defiance of the law.”

“So a group of vigilantes, led by the gorilla that calls me his father, is looking for recruits?” Harold chuckles, shaking his head. “This sounds too good to be true.”

Sigma frowns. He knows what Harold will say if he asks, but he can’t stop himself. “So does that mean you will join them?”

“If they’ll let me. I mean, I’m not affiliated with Overwatch at all, but I am a scientist in my own right, with my own secrets about Lucheng. If they want to resurrect Overwatch, I’ve got valuable information. If they’re a group of vigilantes, they might be able to keep me safe at the very least. There’s no better place to hide. It all depends on if Winston will accept me or not.” Harold suddenly scowls. “It’s been so long though. What if he thinks I faked my death on purpose? What if…what if he hates me?”

“Harold, you’re overthinking it,” Sigma sighs. His eyes go cloudy as he recounts their shared past. Despite his best efforts, his lips curl up into a half-smile. “I remember how much you cared for him all those years ago. You doted on him like he was your flesh and blood, like he was human. And if you tell him the truth about your disappearance, he should understand.”

A small smile peeks out from Harold’s lips. “I don’t know how to get in contact with him though. Or anyone from Overwatch.”

Sigma contemplates telling him about Sombra’s backdoor access to Winston. All he needs to do is send her a message and Harold will finally be able to talk to Winston. They will cry happy tears when they reunite. They will tell each other the story of their lives and Winston will tell Harold what to do so he’s safe. Soon after, Harold will leave Sigma’s side and they will never see each other again for the rest of their lives.

He wants to be possessive. He wants to keep Harold here. He wants to hold Harold close by his side and protect him till the end of their days. He wants Harold to stay with him so finally, finally, he might bask in the sunlight of their love once more and know happiness.

He wants Harold to be his. But more than that, he wants Harold to be happy.

Sigma lets out a shaky breath. “…Sombra told me there’s a way to contact him,” he says slowly. “She can set it all up for us, if we tell her. She can organize a video call so you can be in contact with Winston. You two will be able to talk to one another again.”

Harold’s eyes tear up once more, reflecting the world in the droplets, and suddenly Sigma is pulled into a passionate kiss. Arms wrap around his body, pulling him down so the distance between their bodies shorten. The time when their lips touch is short, but it feels so much longer.

When they separate, Sigma sees the lines of gravity connecting them together. It pulls and pulls, desperate for the distance between their bodies to close, desperate for the fatal collision that will change the course of his fate forever. The music has returned with a thunderous crescendo, but it’s still quiet compared to the breaths that leave Harold’s lungs, heavy with emotion.

Harold stares into his eyes, and Sigma sees nebulae and galaxies glittering amidst the dark backdrop of space. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away.

Harold places a hand on Sigma’s cheek and rubs circles with his thumb. A crimson blush stains his cheeks, eyes flickering down to Sigma’s lips. Sigma can feel himself uncoil and unfurl, can feel gravity threaten to leave its shackles. His body is no longer his own. He’s gone beyond the event horizon, sucked in with no escape.

“Don’t,” Sigma whispers.

“You’re smart,” Harold says. “You know what I’m thinking. You know how I feel.”

“You’re smarter than me,” Sigma admits. It’s a truth he’s acknowledged a long time ago but he’s never said aloud before. To this day, he has yet to encounter a person smarter than Dr. Harold Winston. It’s his intelligence that earned Sigma’s respect. It’s also what earned Sigma’s affections.

“I’m not,” Harold insists. “I’m nowhere near as brilliant as you.”

His breathing is a sonata, his lungs and heart a concerto. He’s made of beautiful melodies and chords that piece together to create a heavenly song. Sigma’s heard this song before. It’s the dramatic violin vibrato before the crash of the cymbals, before the world shrinks down to the two of them. The moment before two heavenly bodies collide.

When Sigma takes the plunge and kisses Harold, he swears he can hear the angels sing their perfect choir song as the universe condenses into the space of this single-bedroom apartment. His body fizzles with electricity, and his heart is leaping out of his chest, and he hears the distinct rattle in the air when he knows his emotions have made him lose control of his abilities once again, but Harold is gliding in the air with him, smiling against his lips and kissing back with equal fervor.

With the last remnants of his willpower, he pulls them down so they are finally standing. They gaze upon each other for just a second before Harold gives Sigma another kiss, and another, and then another, and countless more after that, on his lips and cheeks and neck and everything in between. When he’s done, he rests his head onto Sigma’s shoulder, his fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Be with me,” Harold breathes, his words so quiet and fragile. “Stay with me. Please.”

Sigma cannot reply. His lungs don’t work like they used to. Even if he could, he doesn’t know what to say, what he wants. Instead, he leads Harold to the bed, traces his fingers over the tubes on Harold’s skin, and presses his lips onto Harold’s eyelids. With every second, he feels himself melt just a little bit more

As they lay in bed, caressing each other with the utmost reverence, Sigma feels the twinkling stars chime in unison within his body. They tell him that this is right, that this is where he belongs, by Harold’s side. That he can have this if he throws caution to the wind and speak the truths the universe can never say for him. He curls into Harold, taking in his melodies. Every gasp, every moan, every sweet nothing, they are all songs that Sigma’s heard before decades ago, but it still brings out the same emotions deep within his chest. Harold still sings so beautifully, he thinks, as his fingers glide over Harold’s stomach.

The choir chant his desires. The universe hums in his ears. Harold smiles as brightly as the sun. The fragments of his mind drift away into the dark void as he gives himself up completely to Harold. He gives in, whole-heartedly, eagerly, desperately.

Just for that night, the man known as Sigma is gone. In his place, Siebren de Kuiper returns, a phoenix rising from the ashes. For the brief moment he resides on Earth, his sole mission is to make up for all the years he spent without Harold Winston by his side.

#Overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #THEY FINALLY KISS #Well...technically they kissed before #In the previous chapter #And also a lot in the past #BUT THIS IS THE PROPER KISS #Things are going to come to a head in the next chapter #You guys gonna wait and see #If you like my stuff please do help me out by reblogging

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sundaynightnovels · 5 years

Text

chinese mythology AU: the moon rabbit

so @insearchof-solace gave me this prompt a while back and i was immediately inspired and.... wrote nothing BUT i kept wanting to write it (that’s fair enough, no????) && now that i’m finally up to writing it, my word doc is acting up on me and i was ready to throw in the towel but i was like

well. i write a whole bunch and don’t edit my work anyway, so how about i try something different and write it right now, spontaneously, on this post here? are you nervous? i’m rebellious and low on energy and don’t have enough mind to be nervous so yea, i’m gonna give it a go. so there’s no like introductory post on how long it’s gonna be or what is it about or how vastly different it is from the actual mythology (very different, probably) like always, this is an AU of my wip like all things out of season, i.e. using its characters and whatnot. so yea. a little background: the moon rabbit is, well, a rabbit. who lives on the moon. it’s usually like seen pounding something with a mortar and pestle that the chinese (the moon rabbit exists in a lot of other asian mythology but i’m using the chinese one for this because, well. it’s a chinese au piece) assumes is the elixir of life, and is usually portrayed as being a companion of chang’e, the moon goddess. but who knows? will there be a companion here?? i don’t know. what i do know is that i’ll be personifying the moon rabbit, so yea. i won’t be describing an actual rabbit with rabbit limbs and features per se here, but something rather human. here it goes: edit: after writing, it seems a lil philosophical and kinda gloomy. not my usual light-hearted thing, so be warned!

The moon is round tonight. Well, that’s no different from usual -- it is round every night, there’s no way it can suddenly change its shape beneath his feet, but well. He supposes, for the mortals down there, the moon is round tonight. Below him, flickering lights dance like waves cascading over one another; they sputter and glow within their paper walls, orange and red and yellow and even purple. Laughter weaves its way between hooked arms and raucous chatter, explodes as someone butchers a poetry recital and recedes when a performance begins. He sits there, on the edge. The stone is cool in his grip, familiar and worn; it sets a rhythm alongside the pounding beats and traditional tunes of the music below. Each time, a push and a twist, a push and a twist. By the time applause breaks out, the herbs have already been ground to dust. He’s used to the smell; they prick at his nostrils and lingers in the air, but his nose always aches and the air around him is always heavy anyway. He’s used to it. Sometimes he wonders. Of course he does, he’s had more than enough time, so much that he doesn’t care to notice about the flow of the ages, passing so quickly beneath his feet that if he merely blinks, he thinks he might miss civilisation’s end. Not that it matters to him, of course. Eras come and go, mortals live and perish. And all that eventually remains are the ghosts of memories that have come to pass. Echoes, rather -- not ghosts. Ghosts are too corporeal, nearly substantial in their remembrance. And memories are fickle beings. They shift and change with age and perspective, warp with desires and denials; the more someone strives to recollect, the more they rebuild and break down the past, the less firm the foundation. The less solid the form. What’s left is merely an echo, a lingering afterthought. Something not as significant, yet remains hovering in the atmosphere like a miasma suspended over a grave -- doomed to haunt for all of eternity. Mortals are all chased by their echoes. And he wonders, of course, what his might be. If he were to be mortal. But of course, he isn’t. And that is a useless thought to contemplate on, for something that he cannot and will not be. He keeps pounding away. His moon is always round, after all. - The smoke is thick, almost viscous somehow. It snakes up into the air, wiggling and struggling, fighting to get out. It happens, occasionally. Though perhaps that might not be the best descriptor. Occasionally to him takes place over a rather large span of time, anyway. It doesn’t matter. The mortals move away, backs resolutely turned. Some are crying. Some press their palms tight and hold them close to their hearts, letting hushed words slip into open air. Others, younger ones, so tiny he can barely see them from where he sits, look confused. It’s bright again, but not like before. The flames are ravenous and fierce, hungry and unrelenting; they chase after the paper offerings and tear apart the paper house, eating and swallowing till there’s nothing left. The smoke dies down; it’s a little easier to breathe. He thinks. He doesn’t quite know. A physical release might not be quite the same as an emotional one. What he does understand, though, is that everything comes back to dust. You bring nothing with you when you’re brought to life, and you carry nothing away in your death. It is a cycle. It will eventually happen again, he doesn’t know why they grieve. He is no expert, of course. He continues to pound away at the mixture for an immortality elixir. - She’s here today. The moon is a large place, and they don’t often cross paths. He feels like it’s been eons since he’s last spoken. It might have been. She doesn’t speak. She sits at the edge and peers down. Though there can be no sign of age on the smooth lines of her face, she somehow looks weathered. Old and beaten. Tired, from an eternity of existence.

He clears his throat; it is resounding in the silence. “Hi.” “Hi,” she replies. She used to be mortal. She used to love and be loved. But it’s been ages. There’s no one there for her now. He sits beside her and doesn’t speak, just pushes the bottle towards her and looks at his hands. The skin is peeling and his palms are bruised. He is immortal, yet still they are bruised. It is an odd spectacle. He curls his fingers around them and squeezes. He stares at her and he wonders. If she’s a beautiful immortal worshiped by all and he’s her humble companion praised in textbooks. Or maybe she’s an idol for virtue and he’s one for diligence and utility. In reality though, he thinks it might be something else instead. That she’s a mortal stuck in a cage and that he’s her captor. Or that they are both trapped in a never-ending circle that chases after itself, sitting on the edge and trying to break the trajectory. Maybe it’s better not to think at all. After all, the moon will always be round. She will always be told in stories, celebrated in festivals. And he will always be here, pounding away for all of eternity. Memories will live on forever, anyway -- even if they are merely echoes. Especially if they are merely echoes. They are meant to live forever.

---------------------- okay! i don’t know why this ended up so depressing. like i said, i really didn’t plan anything. and i don’t know what this means. maybe it’s a deliberation on immortality VS mortality and how hou yi has maybe got the right idea the whole time? (okay, explanations about certain myths below.) or maybe something about myths being glorified and immortalised and wondering how that might go about in actual reality. or maybe that people should be given decisions about their own lives and not forced into a routine by fate i don’t know okay don’t question me i don’t think when i’m writing it also kinda, sort of, reflects a little about the beginning of my wip? alright so a few things:

the moon rabbit is.... dun dun dun!! i’m sure some of y’all have guessed! it’s shou!! (that’s why it kinda reflects the beginning of my wip a little bit)

and the female is obviously... dun dun dun! chang’e!!! and she is!!!! well, this might be a little harder to guess but it also does reflect a little bit of her past / backstory in the companion novel. anyway!! it is... zhen!!

basic background on the mythology of chang’e: she is married to a man named hou yi, and back then there were like, 10 suns on earth and everyone was suffering because it was hella hot and hou yi, being a great man and a saviour of the broken (oops, mcr reference), he shot down 9 out of 10 of the suns. he was rewarded with an elixir of immortality, but he didn’t want to take it because he wanted to be with his wife. anyway something happened, bla bla bla, in order to protect the elixir from some bad guys, chang’e downed it herself and became immortal, and she decided to live in a place where she’d be closest to her husband -- which was incidentally the moon. and mid-autumn celebration is kinda celebrated for her too. okay, it also celebrates a bunch of other stuff, but for chang’e as well!

the first part he’s watching the mid-autumn festival celebrations, traditionally celebrated with people holding a bunch of lanterns on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, which is when there is a full moon (just fyi, the 15th day of all the lunar months tend to have a full moon)

the second part he’s watching a funeral procession (kinda more like a buddhist one, where you burn joss paper and paper ingots and paper houses etc.) not really in detail but yea

the phrase that i used ‘In life you carry nothing, and in death you bring nothing’ comes from this actual chinese thing that you say ‘生不带来死不带去’ which means the same thing

ALRIGHT. uhh. hope y’all enjoyed?? tagging my tag list @cabaretofwords @inked-waves @latechickadee @kidsarentallwrite @insearchof-solace @kaigods @inkpot-dreamer @pen-for-sword @thedreamsofthesky @cheap-pins

as usual y’all are free to drop me prompts any time alright!

#writeblr #writing #like all things out of season #AU: chinese mythology #snippet #writing snippet #writers on tumblr #my writing #my wip #my OCs #character tag #shou #zhen #chinese mythology #the moon rabbit #chang'e

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cchellacat · 6 years

Text

Happier

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Fourteen ~ Doing something fun/special together.

“Darcy, hey, wake up!”

There’s a blaze of light as the curtains are pulled open and the sunlight hits Darcy directly in the face. She groans dramatically and rolls over burying her face in his pillow.

“Go away.”

“Darcy! Come on, you have to get up. Things to do, people to see.”

She pulls the duvet over her head, her voice muffled as she replies.

“What? Ugg, no, I am not getting up! It’s too damn early for this.”

“Oh, come on, it’s going to be a good day. You can’t lie in bed forever.”

“Says who?” Darcy mutters into the comforter.

The cover is suddenly gone and the bed dips dangerously. She blinks up and glares at Jane.

“Seriously? Who died and made you Queen?”

Jane pulls that mulish expression; the one Darcy could really have lived her whole life without seeing.

“Up, we have things to do. I have a list of instructions and you’re not getting out of it.”

Darcy frowns, blowing a curl out of her face.

“Instructions?”

Jane smiles warmly down at her. Darcy does not feel like smiling back, but a little voice in the back of her head nudges her to bite anyway.

“Up, I have coffee ready in the kitchen and Tony had your favourite pastries flown in from that bakery in Chicago.

Darcy blinks stupidly at Jane. It’s not her birthday. What the hell is going on?

Jane jumps off the bed before she can ask anything else and grabs her hand, dragging her up. For such a tiny woman she sure has a lot of strength.

“Okay, fine, I’m up. But I wanted it recorded that it is under protest.”

“Duly noted.” Jane replies dryly, shoving her toward the bathroom.

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By the time she steps out of the shower and into the bedroom again she actually feels awake and at least a little intrigued by Janes mysterious instructions.

On the bed Jane has laid out an outfit for her. It’s one she hasn’t worn in a long time. The dress is a deep amber with white polka dots and the long wrap cardigan is a jewel toned burgundy red. The heels she’s left out match and Darcy feels a tiny thrill of nostalgia.

When she’s finally seated at the table, she finds everything exactly as Jane said it would be, fresh French pressed coffee and an array of artesian pastries she loves.

She pulls the sleeves of the cardigan up to her elbows and digs in, humming appreciatively at the fine coffee and equally fine chocolate twist.

“Okay, Boss lady, hit me, what do I have to do?”

“Well.” Jane tells her, reaching into her bag. “Bucky asked me to give you this…” Jane pulls the letter from her bag and offers it to her carefully.

Darcy sets the cup down and reaches for the letter with numb fingers.

When her hand shakes, she unfolds it and lays it on the table so she can read it.

Good morning Babydoll,

I bet you didn’t expect this, but you know I never leave anything to chance. I promised you something once and I followed through, now I’m callin’ in my favour. I want you to follow my plan, just this once, no arguing. I know you’re callin’ me all the names of the day in your head right now, but I swear, you’ll thank me later. I expect if Jane followed through, you’re wearing that dress and those shoes, you know the ones I mean…

Darcy slapped her hand over her mouth and choked back an unsteady sobbing laugh. He was such a sneaky little shit.

Do you remember the day you wore it last? We went out to Coney Island, you hated it, complained the whole day about the cheap food and the sand everywhere and the crowds. But you went anyway, you knew it made me happy to take you there. I remember takin’ off those strappy little heels and holding them for you while we walked along sand. You looked beautiful in that dress, with your hair up and little wisps of curls kissing the skin at the nape of your neck. We stood on the beach and watched the sunset. You made me happy that day, let me make today happy for you. So, listen up Darcy Elizabeth cause there’s a schedule, you don’t want to be late for the grand finally. Listen to Jane, I know she’ll keep you right doll, I know I can trust her to keep her mouth shut, so don’t go needling her to tell. I hope today will be as special for you as made that one for me.

James.

P.S. I love you.

Darcy bit back her tears and pressed her fingers flat into the paper, biting her lip hard. After taking a few minutes to compose herself she looked back up at Jane.

“Jane...”

Jane holds up a hand and stops her.

“No, I made a promise, I’m going to keep it. Let’s go, we have somewhere to be in forty minutes.”

Darcy gives her a hard stare then glances back down at the letter.

P.S. I love you

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“Where are we?” Darcy asks as the car draws up outside an imposing looking stone built.

Jane looks over and hands her another letter, silent smile fixed firmly in place as once again Darcy reaches for the paper.

“Don’t read it till you’re in there, I’ll wait here for you. You’ve got an hour.”

She stepped out and made her way up the steps and inside. The curator stood waiting for her.

“Welcome to the Grolier Club Ms Lewis. We have a private viewing room ready for you.”

Darcy looked around again, taking in the detail. How on earth had he managed this? She followed closely on the woman’s heels, and followed the special instruction for handling the documents and settled down. The woman left and Darcy brought out the letter Jane had handed her.

“Hey Doll-face,

I hope you’ll enjoy the surprise. You get a private viewing of Wallace’s Supreme Fiction, the original document. I can’t claim to understand or even like poetry the way you do, but I did a little reading. I think I understand what you were trying to say about it now.

Here’s the two parts that stuck me, touched me perhaps, gave me pause as I thought of you, of us, of what we are, together and apart. Of what I’ve done and who I’ve been, the fiction of the life that was taken and the fiction of the one forced on me.

And for what, except for you, do I feel love? Do I press the extremest book of the wisest man Close to me, hidden in me day and night? In the uncertain light of single, certain truth, Equal in living changingness to the light In which I meet you, in which we sit at rest, For a moment in the central of our being, The vivid transparence that you bring is peace

I know you’ll understand why this resonated, I took the idea of the life I could have had and built it into something it never could have been, I spent so long looking back at that pretty lie I sometimes didn’t see the truth in front of me. You were the only thing I’ve truly loved, the only one that brought me peace. You think you broke me Doll? You were the one who put me back together.

“Music falls on the silence like a sense,

A passion that we feel, not understand”

I’m an asshole. I didn’t spend the time I should have listening. Until you, there was only silence and darkness. You brought the music Doll and you brought the light. I should have told you then, when I still had the chance. You gave me back my soul, I thought it was gone forever, but it was just hurt, hiding in the darkness. You found me, and I never thanked you for that. So, thank you, for being bright and beautiful, for believing and pushing me even when I know I hurt you with my actions, when I pushed you away. You never let up, never gave up. I didn’t try to understand why, I should have. I was selfish where you were always giving. You deserve everything Doll, you deserve to be cherished and loved and safe. In my mind I see you dancing still, in the echoes of my memory, in the corner of my eye. Never stop Darcy, fill your life with music, fill it with love.

James.

P.S. I love you.

She fisted her hands in the material of her dress and let the tears fall on his letter, silently letting it all pour out. She should never have watched that movie with him, he could be such a soppy bastard. She spent the next hour reading over the work, thinking of Bucky and what he’d thought of it, now she knew he had read it. In a way it’s was like he was here with her. That was something precious and she held onto the feeling very, fucking, tightly.

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“Is there seriously more to this magical mystery tour? I feel like some pathetic thirty something in a Rom-com. You know I hate Rom-coms Jane. Where is this going?”

“Not where you’d expect.” she tells her, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Come, on we’re here.”

Darcy steps out, they’re somewhere in Brooklyn, it looks like an old warehouse, what on earth could there possibly be here?

“It’s part of an Art’s Program Tony funds. They get permission from the city to encourage expressive and creative arts through certain youth groups. The idea is that even the worst places in the city should have beauty brought back to them.”

Darcy follows Jane as they make their way over to the group of kids and few adults all milling about with tables set up full of massive stencils and paints and cans of spray paint.

Jane once more pulls a letter from her bag, then turns Darcy till she’s facing the brick wall and puts the letter in her hands.

“Here, you should read this first.”

Hi Sweetheart,

I hope you’re ready to have some fun. But before you do, look up….

She steps back on one leg and looks up and her eyes widen. The laughter that bubbles up escapes her completely. Up high near the top of the wall are three panels. They all depict the same two boys. In the first a young Bucky holds a tiny Steve Rogers in by the scruff of the neck, the latter kicking his legs, swiping at Bucky with his first. In the second is Bucky in his uniform saluting his friend, Steve, shoulders slumped left behind. The third panel is what’s killing her. Steve in all his star-spangled glory is running from the Germans, Bucky in his arms like a rescued princess, winking to the street.

Jane hands her a tissue as she finally manages to control her laughter, the tears wetting her cheeks in mirth rather than bittersweet sadness.

Steve wasn’t the only one who took art classes Sugar, I hope it made you smile, I know it did. I can hear you laughing from here. I promise, he hasn’t seen it yet, you can show him later, I bet he busts a rib when he does. Go make something beautiful Doll, bring something good out of something broken, I know you can do it. Be brave, take a chance. Go pick a can and paint. Remember that day in London? When we ended up in that museum? We spend five hours in that place, I’m pretty sure I thought we were never going to leave. But there was that one painting and you sat there for near an hour staring at it. Whatever it was that touched you then, let it touch you now. I’m right beside you Doll.

James,

P.S. I love you.

She tucks the letter into her bag with the other two and heads back over to Jane where she’s tentatively picking up different cans.

“You going to help Janie?”

“You bet I am, this actually looks like it might be fun.”

Darcy grins back and picks up a can, shaking it fast and lets the arts co-ordinator direct her to a piece of wall.

Jane stands beside her looking wary….

“Darcy? I don’t know if I like the way you’re staring at the wall.”

“Chill Jane, this going to be fun. You know I was actually pretty good at art in school. It’s been a while, but this isn’t my first-time tagging. It’s just, you know, legal this time.”

Darcy grins in anticipation. She knows exactly what she’s going to do. Using a length of card board, she starts her masterpiece. She had eight feet of wall to fill, who says there can’t be a garden in the jungle?

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Sitting over lunch in a tiny hole in the wall in Queens, she feels at peace and happier than she thought the day would be. Jane’s keeping the conversation going whenever Darcy faulters and stubbornly carries on till she joins back in again. The woman is a goddess, she doesn’t know what she’d do without her friend. It’s been a tough year, somehow, they’ve both held together through it. The sudden arrival of a violinist to play music that has her somewhat speechless until she hears and recognises the notes. It’s from Thais, the same Opera he took her to a little over a year ago. She looks at Jane with confusion, she pulls another damned letter from her bag and hands it to Darcy.

Afternoon Beautiful,

I hope lunch is going well and you’re listening to the music. I enjoyed that trip to Opera, I never told you how much. It was heart-breaking and beautiful. The story made me think. About life and death, love and loss. Made me think of what we leave behind when we go. It made me realise something about us. Or maybe more accurately about me. I never looked as deep as I should at you, at all the tiny facets that made you who you are, not in the beginning at any rate. You’re more than just a pretty face, more than a figure that can fill out a dress like a dream. You’re smart and passionate and good. You’re all the most beautiful things I never took the time to really see. All the beautiful things I took for granted. If I could live the moments over, I’d look harder, be a better man. You deserve better, you deserve the best. You deserve someone that sees the things you hide. I don’t know why you hide the best parts of yourself, but I can guess. It probably started with assholes like me, that never botherd to listen, to look at who you were. I think they found absolution in death, I’d really rather fuckin not. Think about it Doll. Really think about it. Stop believing that the paint on your lips and the value men give you means more than the value you ascribe yourself. You are my Thais, I’m just the poor schmuck that didn’t realise your value till it was too late.

James.

P.S. I love you.

“Why did he do this Jane?” Darcy asks as she fold up the letter, the final notes of the violin coming to a close. Jane looks torn.

“Honestly Darcy? I think Bucky Barnes will forever be a mystery. If anyone can figure out what all this means it has to be you, because I don‘t have clue and I know how this ends.”

“Alright then. What’s next?”

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Steve is waiting at the airport, standing on the tarmac by the jet, his smile only a little guilty looking.

Darcy looks at Jane questioningly.

“Sorry Darce but this time it’s Steve who’s got the letter. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You mean it still won’t be over when I come back?”

“there’s at least one more thing on the list before the end. Don’t over think it Darcy, just give it a chance. What the worst that can happen?”

Darcy sighs and facepalms.

“Jane, I know we talked about this. We do not taunt Murphy, God of Anything that will go wrong, with fighting words like that. What’s the worst that can happen!”

She climbs out of the car and walks to where Steve waits for her.

“Hey.” She twists her fingers in her sleeves and waits to see what he has to say.

“Hey Darce, got a letter for you.”

“Well?” she says expectantly when no letter appears.

“It’s on the jet. You can read it once we’re in the air.”

“fine.”

She moves past him and up the steps, quickly finding a seat and settling in.

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When they finally take off, he hands her the letter and a thick manila file.

“Is this…” she breaks off, reluctant to take it.

“You don’t have to read the file. But he insisted you have the choice.”

She takes the letter, this time more apprehensive than before.

My Darling Girl,

You are my darling, my sweetheart, my sugar, my doll. All the pet names in the world can’t encompasses what you are to me. I call you by those names because there is so much that I find hard to say.

My darling. You are precious, more precious than gems and gold, than any treasure ever lost or found, you are my darling girl. Each tear I’ve cost would bankrupt the richest man for it is more valuable than a diamond. Each time I’ve caused you pain has cost me time I’ll never have again.

My Sweetheart. You are my heart, the whole of mine beats in time with yours. The sweetness you gave me I tainted with my own unhappiness, the sourness of resentment left to festered in my mind did more damage than actual words ever spoken.

My Sugar. You were the part of me that hoped and wanted. The sweetness of a different outcome, another future, I squandered it away.

My Doll. I wanted to care for you, protect you, treat you like a princess, I didn’t know how to tell you I saw your strength as well, knew it was greater than my own. But you let me hold you close, you kept me safe through nightmares waking and sleeping. Like a child, you were my doll, to ward off the loneliness I lived in, my friend and my companion, my equal in every way.

You threw it back at me once, rightfully, that when I told you that you couldn’t understand it was because I wouldn’t tell you, show you, explain. I should have handled that better. So, Steve’s gonna take you on a little trip for me. You want honest, this is it. My files from Hydra and in Bucharest my journals. Take as long or as short a time as you need.

James,

P.S. I love you.

Why had he done this? Why now? Why wait? He must have written these months ago. She carefully folds the paper, another confession of love and pain. Why couldn’t he have told her himself? Why like this?

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The jet is fast, but not so fast she doesn’t have time to read the file. She takes her time with it, reading each page with careful consideration. For years all she’s had was speculation. A patchwork of ideas she’s put together through restless nights, sleepwalking and nightmares. He’d always been an incomplete puzzle she was trying to fix. What was contained in the files was a part of that puzzle, not all of it, but a great deal. He had never wanted to talk about what happened to him. Not to her, not to anyone. She had done what she could to hold him together, some days it had felt like she was working with nothing more than brown paper and string.

It had never been a chore, being there for him, she never felt it as a burden, but he had convinced himself he was. To her it had been nothing more than a labour of love. She’d come to know exactly how she felt early on. How could she not love him? The letters he had sent today, a mixture of apology, memories of better times and a deep confession of love. He’d never said the words out loud, but she had known, she had. She’d understood it through his actions. The way he held her, the way he took her hand, the way he defended her, the way he touched her shoulder when he passed her. It was in the way he’d looked up at her smiling as he removed her heels in a beach on Cony Island. It was in the way he held her close in a darkened Opera house as two characters met their end. It was in the patience he held while she sat in front of a painting for an hour and half, waiting while she took it in. it was in everything he remembered about her and never forgot. She hadn’t needed the words, she’d just needed him. But he wasn’t here.

She closed the file and pulled her bag up onto her lap, rifling through till she found what she was looking for. The letter she’d found when she’d finally woken up from a five-week coma.

Darcy,

I’m leaving for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m not good, I’m a mess and I never tried to fix it. I let you take too much on yourself and I blamed you for things that weren’t on you. You were right, you always were. You don’t have to wait for me.

I’m sorry.

James.

She read it over, it was so different from the letters Jane had given her. She was almost afraid to hope that this was something more than a sweet apology meant to ease whatever guilt he felt, pay back what he thought he owed her.

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“Did you know he was born here?” Steve asks as they walk down a side street.

She jerks her head to look up at him. No, she hadn’t known. Another part of his past he hadn’t shared. She’d not sure why that piece of information stings more than the files she read on the plane.

Steve gives her sad smile.

“He was only a three when his parents took the boat to America. He grew up learning to get rid of the accent. Its how things were then. You wanted to fit in, cover up the past, shed the identity of who you were as an immigrant and embrace what it meant to be American.

They gave up their family name at Elis Island. Took an anglicised version and moved on. People didn’t talk about then, it’s probably something he never mentioned, not because he was hiding it, but because it was part of the life he lived before that was ingrained. He learned how to speak Romanian though, guess he never forgot cause he manged to blend in here without issue for nearly a year before Zemo framed him for the bombing.”

“Where are we going Steve?”

“He kept the apartment here, even after all the trouble. I don’t understand why, but he did.”

They stop outside an apartment building and Steve hands her the keys, telling her the flat number.

“You’re not coming up?” she asks hesitantly.

“No. I’ve been here before, once. He was pretty mad at me for looking in the journals he keeps here, I’m not comfortable going where I’m not invited. You’re not the only one that got a letter today Darcy.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should never have got in the middle of it… it was none of my business. Guess I just got so used to being… to having his back, I couldn’t see the bigger picture. I’m sorry, you know about…”

“Hey, no.” she cut him off, throwing both hands up, shaking her head. “No one’s perfect, not even Captain America. It wasn’t your fault. There’s no blame here Steve. Not from me.”

“You really do see the good in everyone don’t you?”

“It’s not so hard, it’s there if you look hard enough.”

“I’ll be down the street, there’s a café on the corner there.” He points, and she sees the awning a few hundred yards down the street. “Just come get me when you’re finished.”

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She lets herself into the apartment. It’s not what she was expecting. There had been a lot of re-modelling she thinks, it’s all clean and modern looking. Light tones of mint and cream on the walls, a brighter teal picking out the accents. It’s a calming space. On the table next to the small kitchenet is a letter. If course, there’s another letter. Next to it is a box.

She sits down and opens it.

Darcy,

This is the truth, what’s left of it at least. It’s all the broken pieces that I was trying to put back together. It’s what I hid from you, too afraid you’d see my weakness and leave. It’s the darkness I lived with, that I brought into your life with me but never let you look at even while I let it hurt you. I hope this answers the questions you had. I hope it brings some sort of closure for you for that chapter in your life.

Always,

James.

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It’s late when she finally leaves the apartment, her mind a swirling mess and yet she felt at peace. There was closure in it. A million, million, questions answered. She clutched one journal in her hand. The one he’d written after he left. She’d keep it forever, the things he wrote bringing a comfort she hadn’t known she needed.

By the time they land back in New York she’s exhausted, it’s been a long day, it’s nearing evening. The sun beginning to set.

Jane’s there waiting to take her back to the Tower.

Darcy’s thankful that Jane doesn’t press, just let’s her sit in the silence. Entering the apartment, she leaves her bag and keys by the door and Jane stops her.

“I’ve done what he asked. This is the last part. One more letter. I hope I didn’t make a mistake agreeing to do this for him.”

Darcy takes the letter with a smile.

“No, it was good. I’m glad you did. He’s been with me every step of today, that’s because of you Janie. Thank you.” They hug, laughing a little tearfully before parting.

The silence in the apartment had been the empty lonely kind since she’d returned from the hospital.

Something about today had changed that. It wasn’t empty anymore. The memories they had shared filled the space again and she sank into the couch, toeing off her shoes and pulling her feet under her. She sat for a while, not really wanting it to be over, before she finally opened the letter.

She creased her brow in consternation. There wasn’t a letter. There was a post card, a picturesque town on the front. They had been there once, a year ago. I tiny little town upstate. She had loved how quiet it was, the peace and solitude, the simple life she’d joked. But she’d seen the same longing in his eyes that she had. She turned it over, noting the key taped to the back and only a handful of words underneath a set of lyrics from a song that had played on the radio over and over.

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain't nobody need you like I do I know that there's others that deserve you But my darling I am still in love with you

I left and never gave you a choice. I took it away from you. I hope you understand where this is going. This is me, giving it back.

James,

P.S. I love you.

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She pulls the car to stop outside the little house, the picket white fence freshly painted, flowers planted neatly in the yard. The porch rebuilt and painted. She takes a breath before she gets out of the car. Her heart has been beating like a drum the whole way here.

He’s sitting on the steps when she reaches the gate, his face filled with hope when he looks up and see’s her.

He looks so different. The long hair is gone, instead it’s cut cleanly, if a little too short, displaying the sharp relief of his cheekbones and jaw.

She can’t hold back the tears that break free or the shrill cry of his name as she crosses the yards separating them. Then he’s right there, in front of her, picking her up in his arms, gathering her close as she buries her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him that she had missed so much.

“You came.” He whispers into her hair. He says the words like he can’t believe it.

“Of course I came, where else would I go? You’re the only future I ever wanted. Promise me this is forever?”

“I promise. I don’t want to spend another day without you, for the rest of my life, Doll.”

“Forever?” she prods again, not sure what she wants from him. But he answers, while pressing tiny kisses over her face.

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Forever?”

He takes her hand and presses something into her palm. The cool metal warms quickly, as gold is want to do, the gem twinkles in the porch light as she stares in disbelief.

“Bucky?”

“I’ll never be better, there’s too much that’s been broken and put back together, but… I’m better than I was. I’ve stopped running from it, stopped hiding. The me here now, the one asking you to take this chance? I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t all in Doll. You’re it for me, I was just too stupid to see it before. I don’t want to waste another day, not it you’re willing to take another chance on me. So, this is me asking, Darcy. Will you a take chance on this old soldier? Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me?”

She stands on her toes and kisses him hard.

“Yes, I will.”

@captain-rogers-beard

#love all the marvel ships #love all the marvel ships challenge #bucky/darcy #darcy/bucky #wintershock

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livcosmos · 5 years

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Lord of Shadows booktalk

I finished Lord of Shadows about 6 weeks ago but I didn't had the time to write this review but as the memory of it is still fresh in my mind and I have the time now let's get started. I think it is not necessary to mention how much I loved this book because it is obvious but I am going to say it anyway IT WAS AMAZING AND I LOVED IT. Thank you, dear Cassandra Clare, for giving us such wonderful pieces of pure gold. ( I am going to start Queen of Air and Darkness today and I am more than excited ahha I am going to see Julian again I can't wait.)

SPOILER ALERT

Alright so let’s start with my favorite thing, the London Institute as I said in the Lady Midnight review where I had the feeling that they were going to London, I wasn't ready it is way too much for me. I am not recovered from the Infernal Devices and beeing in London again seeing Jasmine oh God I cried so much when Jasmine was talking to Kit and when Emma was sleeping in that Carstairs room and saw the Initials on the wall and found those photos it was just too much I was crying like a baby once again. Ah and Bridget it is the same Bridget from the Infernal Devices how is that possible what does this woman eat??? Why is she still alive and not Will, Sophie or Charlotte??? Anyway so I was very emotional while they were at the London Institute but I enjoyed beeing back even if it hurt. Ah and I forgot the poetry book that Kit found with James’ Initials on them how sweet was that. I don't know everything related to the TID really gets me. But to move on let's go back to the beginning, with the Emma and Mark thing it wasn't as bad as I thought it will be. It was so incredibly sad when we got to know that after Mark said that thing with “Why just pretend?” and they kissed but Emma started to cry ah that was so sad. And I liked how their friendship developed how they have become each other's best friends and they were talking to each other into the night. And I also must say I am really glad that Christina knew the truth about them, that they aren’t really together. AH, and it was also kind of funny how Mark tried to be Emma's boyfriend in front of the others he was acting so weird. But poor Jules didn't thought it was that funny and he suffered, but I am glad that things cleared out in the end and that Emma told him the truth and that they talked about the problem that was the best thing they could to they should have done it earlier. And so the problem is now very big and very serious they CAN NOT THEY CAN ABSOLUTLEY NOT break all the Parabatai bounds they just can't it's not right. I mean Clary and Simon Jace and Alec and don't get me started about the Parabatais of all ParabataiJem and Will, what will Jem say they can not do that to him. In honor on Jem and Will, they can't do that. of course, I want Jules and Emma to be together but they can't break all the bounds. And anyway I hope that after Jules and Emma aren't Parabatai anymore... I hope Christina and Emma will become Parabatai I don't know these are all hopes I know there are not going to become reality because it will be too good to be true. But I am so glad that they talked to Magnus about their problem (and can we just talk a second about how Magnus has walked in on all, Will and Tessa, Jace and Clary, and now Julian and Emma ... there is only Jem and Tessa missing and it would be all complete, the poor guy has seen everything you could say) and I was so happy when they had the idea with Robert and the exile but we all knew that it was too good to be true it would have been too great if that would have happened. And I knew something was going to happen with Robert I knew it and ahhhahah it is so sad because I started to like Robert he was on a good way his relationship with Alec was good and after he became a grandpa I started to like him. Poor Izzy and Alec I don't even want to know how much they are suffering. Robert was Emma’s and Julian’s only hope that is now gone. And to make things worse the Inquisitor post is now free how is going to take it I have a very bad feeling about it. I just hate it when characters survive their series but die in another you just don't do that it is awful. That we started to talk about deaths, lets move on with Livvy....aaaa poor sweet Livvy I really liked her she was so cool and I shipped her with Kit even if that wasn’t a thing anymore very quickly but I was so sad when she died and I don't want to now how Julian feels, how devastated he is and how he will react and behave I am so scared. And Ty poor Ty she was his twin it is so sad and I am so afraid. Oh goodness and Jace’s and Clary’s appearance in the beginning, I loved how Jce was there for Kit and I am always happy to see him and Clary but I could take Clary’s story with her dream where she dies I just couldn't take it so I googled and I am happy that everything is going to be just fine but I must say Clary is so incredibly brave how she wanted to face death so bravely I admire her so much. And I am very interested in the Thule story and what is the thing with it. Is Thule maybe the place where Dru went when she touched Jamie’s weapon (side note I kind of liked Jamie I want to see more of him but I don't ship him with Dru), was the boy she met there maybe Sebastian’s evil son? If you ask me I think it was him, I am very curious to find out but that scene with Dru was scary I have to say. Alright so if we touched the Jamie topic lets move on with his brother Diego I was so mad at him and I loved how Emma got her revenge without touching him it was so funny but know we know better and I must say I HATE ZARA I HATE HER SO MUCH excuse me for what I am going to say but she is such a bitch, ah and her father I hope he is not going to be the Inquisitor please don’t let him be the new Inquisitor please. Ah and the Cohort are those people crazy are they out of their minds??? And what is happening with the warlocks what makes them sick this can't be good does it has something to do with the black book or that Unseelie king? The whole no runes and no seraph blades thing freaks me out anyway and now the warlocks are sick oh it's going to be bad its all going to be so so bad. I mean if Magnus were there with Annabell she would have gone crazy and Livvy and Robert would be alive now but no... And what do you mean Tessa is sick I cried again when I heard that I don't want her to be sick no just no. I know I am jumping up and down on the scenes but I write everything down as it comes into my mind. So I was happy to see John, Simon’s “friend” from the Academy but I was so so sad when he died poor Marisol I feel so sorry for her and I am sure Simon is also sad. Let’s quickly talk about Diana, I am so glad that we found out she was hiding and that it wasn't anything bad, her story was so emotional and I have to say I ship her and Gwyn I want them to be together. I also liked Gwyn, I liked that we got to see the human side of him, it was very nice. And Catherina omg she is so so kind, this woman not only helpt that lost Herondale she also helped Diana and she took care of Simon while he was at the Academie, she is such a kind and loving person I love her. Now it is time to talk about the trip to faerie land ah so for the beginning if I didn't mention it before, I love Christina she is awesome and the power of her necklace is so cool I definitely want to know more about the Rosales family and their relationship with the faeries. But why on earth didn't they stay together in faerie land I mean I thought the necklace workes if you stay near her why were they all running around by themself there, Julian, Emma, and Christina then went with Mark to that Faerie party like have you all lost you. minds? How those the faerie time thing wor anyway? And Christina and Mark danced at that party and I almost lost my mind like you don't dance at faerie parties it is too dangerous because you could dance till you die and another thing that everyone knows DONT DRINK OR EAT ANYTHING from a faerie because you will be stuck there in faerie land and what does Christina, of course, she drinks something I would have never thought that she would do something like this because Christina isn’t like that but anyway I am glad nothing too bad happened and I am glad for the kiss between Christina and Mark because I ship them. So and Kieran I don't know what to say about him because now I am not sure anymore of what I should think of him because as you r=might remember I hated him because of what he has done to Emma and Jules but now in this book he was kind of nice, I don't know we will see what is going to happen. To move on, we can talk about Emma and Julian now so first of all when they were there at the gate to faerie land and that faerie wanted a special object from all of them and Emma had to give him her Stele, the Stele that Jace gave her I was screaming I dint want her to loose that Stele it was so important for her and you don't give up a gift from Jace but anyway there is no going back it is very unlikely to get that Stele back. Alright but one of my favorite parts where when there were all sleeping there on the grass and Emma and Julian fell asleep with a lot of distance between them but when they woke up they were holding hands, that is so sweet I cried when iI read that I don't know why it was so emotional. Ah and another acne that I loved was the scene on the train with Jules and Emma where Emma was like “Draw me like one of you frech girls” and Julian was like “you know I hate that movie” and she said “ the first time you saw Titanic you cried”, that scene was so adorable and funny, I loved it.Oh my God, that scene where the Seelie Queen wanted to see Julian come one that woman is so shady you can’t trust her and I was screaming at Julian not to listen to what she was saying I was begging him to go away from her but he wouldn’t listen. I hate her even more than Zara she freaks me out so much. And with her glass bowl thing hjsadhaskjh she is so manipulative. That glass bowl freaks me out so much she must be watching them all the time with that thing. And please they can't give her the black book Imean yes they don’t have a choice but it’s not going to bee good if they give it to her yes the Cold Peace will end but she could start a war. YOU CAN NEVER TRUST A FAERIE ESPACIALL NOT THEIR EVIL QUEEN. And when Emma was batteling with that faerie and saw that it “was her dad” what was her problem she knew they were on faerie land and that everything there is shady and ahahaha she knew it wasn’t him but still she couldn’t fight. Ah, and Arthur lets talk about how underrated he is I felt so sorry for him dying it was so sad I mean he has no fault for his mind and he died so brutally. And that Annabel I hate her too, I mean I can understand why she was so angry with Malcolm and why she killed him and I can also understand why she freaked out at the consul meeting but there is no justification for her actions. And anyway what is the deal with her and the Unseelie king and she still has the black book and the Unseelie king took her so that means the king has the book now and that means no good oh God that also means that the Seelie Queen will be very angry oh godness I think things are going to be very bad.Now I am asking is there some sort of deal between the King and Annabell what is happening? And the Mortal Sword is now gone, Cortana broke it does that mean that the Clave will take Cortana away from Emma to use it as the mortal Sword because Cortana absorbs power? Is Cortana the new Mortal Sword? Cortana is very powerful and if it gets `in the wrong hands then there is going to be more trouble than it is going to be anyway. And I almost forgot to say something about that anonymous green warlock who helped Ty, Kit, and Livvy at the Shadow Market, I am pretty sure that that warlock is Ragnor Fell and I am not sure what to think of it.

So all in all as I said this book was amazing I loved it and I am excited for the next one. But I must say that I liked Lady Midnight bit more, of course, it was great but Lady Midnight felt a 100% right and Lord of shadows only 99%. Alright that's it for this review than’s for reading! Bye

#the dark artifices #lord of shadows #lady midnight #the infernal devices #the mortal instruments #tda #tid #tmi #JULIAN BLACKTHORN #emma carstairs #jem carstairs #will herondale #tessa gray #clary fairchild #Jace Herondale #in love

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msmoonlighter · 5 years

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All About Freya Merrynight-Gunnulf

Name: Freya Merrynight-Gunnulf of the Seelie Queen’s Court Undercover Identity: Sage Wisteria Thorn of Seelie Ethnicity/Nationality: If she were human? White? I mean she was born to a viking dad so. But she’s mostly non-human. She’s a gentry faerie, meaning she looks almost totally human, save for a few little details such as pointed ears, unnaturally vibrant dark green and gold eyes, unnaturally bright red hair, ethereal beauty. She is however, 25% human and her father was a Norwegian Viking who was half fae. It’s a whole thing. Age: 27 in fae years, roughly 1000 n’ something in human years, but time works differently in Faerie Species: ¾ Faerie. Shows no signs of being any percent human because faerie blood is dominant when it hits the 3/4 mark. Half fae have a fifty fifty chance of coming out human or fae, but they still carry fae genes. Gender: Female Height/ Body type: 5’9, curvy hips, hourglass, kinda a va va va voom body type, y’know? I can’t draw her right. She looks regal, and queenly, and tall. She’s supposed to give off elegant and sensual vibes. Appearance: Long red hair in loose waves, vibrant and rich forrest green eyes. Has a powerful sort of air. Like a feminine, flirty, but powerful air. Like she knows she could absolutely demolish everyone around here in her highest heels and come out on top. A tattoo-like image of vines sprawling around her shoulder down her torso and to her leg. She hides it with a glamour when she’s in public. The glamour can be dismantled if she’s severely injured or if for some reason her magic is drained or she’s severely weakened.

Family:

Father: Artair Gunnulf (His name meaning “As strong as a bear”, the strongest warrior of his tribe. The son of a human Berserker and a faerie woman.)

Mother: Aoife Merrynight (Powerful fae sorceress, left Sage for dead in the middle of the forest and then wanted her back when her powers sparked to life. Manipulative and abusive. Very Mother Gothel-like. Sold her daughter’s very existence to Titania Queen of the Faeries. We do not stan.)

Job: Works as a third grade school teacher in Middleverse. She’s been in Middleverse for a little more than a year, and for most of that time she was unemployed, focusing mostly on tracking down whoever Titania wanted her to. During the summer her best friend Storm convinced her to work as a lifeguard. Later on her link to Titania and the faerie realm, an elf named Opal informed her that she had landed her a job teaching third grade at a local elementary school. Freya schooled the children of Titania’s court so she was kind of qualified but there was still a lot of fake it till you make it bullshit at the beginning. She loves her kids though, and would literally take a bullet for each and every one of them. Her real job, however, is serving as Titania the Seelie Queen’s personal spy and assassin, tasked with keeping tabs on on the residents of Middleverse for signs of people working to overthrow Titania. She’s supposed to capture the people orchestrating the assassination/overthrowal attempt and bring them to Titania dead or alive, and get rid of anyone who stands in her way by any means. This job takes a toll on her as you can imagine, and her conscience is never quite comfortable with that tall order. She’s grown up a warrior, she’s grown accustomed to violence, but Titania is corrupt and wicked, and some of the people she’s been tasked with killing were entirely innocent by all logic. She wants out, but since she’s magically tethered to Titania, she can’t betray her. Hobbies: Gardening, exploring the forest, swordplay, wood carving, archery, writing bits of novels she never publishes, writing poetry, reading, calligraphy, playing the violin, experimenting with nature magic, she enjoys surfing, puzzles and word games Personality: She gives me the Badass Female Spy Who Pulls Out A Tube of Lipstick and It Turns Out To Be A Knife/Taser/Lock pick/Laser and Can Run After a Bitch At Top Speed In Heels Vibe. If she were a super villain she’d be Poison Ivy hands down. She’s extremely intelligent, quick-witted, and clever, and even for a fae she’s especially good at twisting words. She can lie, being part human, and that combined with her fae magic makes her a dangerous opponent, especially since no one can guess she’s part human and assume she can’t lie. While lying comes easy for her, she feels guilty when lying to people she cares for. Often she does it to hide her double life from them. She’s most certainly the mom friend, or at least the Vodka Aunt friend, but is probably the only sober person coming back from group outings. She doesn’t drink much, and when she does, it’s faerie wine or nothing. She loves nature with a passion and is going to start a greenhouse in the woods behind her house with the help of her coworker and friend Zoe. She tends to be reckless, and has a bit of a temper. She’s awfully flirtatious, and often it means nothing to her. However when she really is interested in someone, you can tell. Mostly because she’s rarely ever actually becomes interested in someone for more than just a fun time, and when she does the flirting kind of dies down and she starts to feel uneasy. She doesn’t like the idea of caring about too many people when her life is so dangerous. Freya has a rebellious streak and it often arises in the form of her going directly against Titania’s orders, knowing she’ll be punished for it, but needing to feel free for once. She never tries to escape, but she’ll disobey in little ways. Ways that piss the queen off. She hates feeling as if she’s not in control of her own life, and that’s kind of ironic because she literally isn’t. Titania could order her to stick a knife in her own stomach and she’d have to. Freya craves adventure and adrenaline, and is always up for a challenge. Before she became a teacher she was in this apathetic state of depression, and really just didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything especially not herself anymore. But her friends and the school kids changed her for the better because I’m all for wholesome character arcs where the jaded main character unintentionally adopts a bunch of kids and becomes a better person. It’s cliche. Sue me.

Backstory: She was born a little over a thousand years ago from the strange one night stand between a Viking Berserker named Artair Gunnulf and a faerie sorceress named Aoife Merrynight. Artair was the strongest warrior of his clan, and his name literally meant “As strong as a bear”. He himself was half fae on his mother’s side, but he never knew since his father never knew. His mother left them when he was around ten because Titania found out about the union and commanded she return. Aoife was a full gentry fae woman. Gentry look almost completely human save for a few features such as unnatural colored hair, eyes, skin, pointed ears, and strange markings. They��re similar to elves, but have a more powerful and dramatic sort of reputation. While elves are often tied to nature, gentry are tied to nothing but magic itself. Aoife was a sorceress, known in Titania’s court for being a huge kiss ass to the queen, and all in all a really low-down, selfish person. She was Titania’s most trusted advisor, and as such was allowed to do as she wished. So she went to the human world in search of some fun.

She thought Artair was a ruggedly handsome redhead piece of ass, and she was bored, and so she seduced him real quick and then left town. When she had their child she was disgusted. She didn’t want a half human baby. To her anyone who wasn’t fae was weak and useless to her. So she dumped the tiny baby in the middle of the human forest. Real lovely chick, I’m telling you. Now, as fate may have it, Artair was hunting in the forest that very same day, and a few hours into his hunt he heard a baby crying. He found this newborn baby in the middle of the forest and was like “Yo what the fuck who left their kid here? That’s messed up.” He instantly felt a fatherly connection to this baby, so he wrapped her up in his cloak and carried her home. Time works differently in faerie. A week in the human world could be a mere hour or a year in the faerie realm. Years had passed down on Earth, and Artair had married a woman named Gala, who he loved and adored. They adopted the baby and named her Freya after their favored goddess. Freya grew up happily in the human world. She was nicknamed Bear Cub because she often paraded around in her father’s bearskin cloak. She learned all about the gods of her people, she learned how to fight, how to use a sword and knives and became a great archer. She made friends and loved her father and mother. She might’ve been happy if her powers hadn’t surfaced when she turned fifteen. She started showing signs of possessing magic around thirteen, but one day shortly after her fifteenth birthday, her faerie side really burst forth. She was training with the other village youth when a boy she particularly disliked accidentally cut her thigh. She had been distracted by a flash of light from the woods, likely from a faerie performing some sort of ritual, and stumbled instead of blocking his swing. His sword was made with iron, and iron is poisonous to faeries so the gash hurt more than usual. The boy was elated that he’d managed to get a strike in, and kept coming at her. She tried to block him, but the pain in her leg was so harsh that she could barely focus. She staggered back until she fell to the ground. When she felt the intense pain of being cut, she cried out and some primal part of her raged to life. Her eyes lit up with a green light and the forest behind them began to rumble. Out of the trees came an abundance of animals. Wildcats, wolves, birds, snakes. With them came tree roots, and vines. They advanced to defend her, but there was no need. The others ran screaming back home. After the pain receded, the animals left and the flora slithered back into the forest. That’s how she earned the nickname Forest Shaker. That night as she was telling her parents what had happened, Aoife showed up. She told them that she was the girl’s mother and that she wanted to take her back to Faerie where she belonged. Of course Artair, Gala and Freya refused. Freya told Aoife that she was perfectly fine where she was. Artair told her she wasn’t going to take her anywhere and Gala informed her that she lost the right to be with Freya when she abandoned her in the forest. When Aoife threatened violence, Artair beat her to the punch, and came at her with his golden sword. So of course Aoife killed them. And then she dragged Freya kicking and screaming into the forest before finally knocking her out and taking her to Faerie. Freya was raised as her mother’s prisoner almost. She was allowed to visit the human world only when Aoife needed things from there, and often could only stay for one or two human years. She was considered a dirty halfbreed by the other gentry faeries. While she felt more at home with the humans, they aged so quickly, and often she’d leave them and come back from Faerie only a year later to find things had completely changed. To make things worse, after her schooling was finished, and she started to become more and more rebellious, Aoife realized that Freya might try to escape one day. So she took Freya to Queen Titania of Seelie. She offered her own daughter as a servant to the queen, suggesting that because she was so skilled in battle, that she could be a valuable soldier. Titania accepted and Freya became a soldier for Seelie. Slowly she proved herself to be valuable, and as more unease in the kingdom arose, and enemies of the crown began to sprout, Titania appointed Freya as her personal assassin. Freya hated this so passionately that she tried to run away for good. She was caught, and dragged back to her mother and the queen. Aoife, fearing her daughter might actually end up managing to escape one day, suggested to the queen that she bind Freya to the throne with magic, so that she wouldn’t be able to leave without permission or betray her. Titania agreed and bound the curse physically by creating a swirling vine pattern on Freya’s skin. It burned like hellfire, but Freya could do nothing to stop it. Ever since she’s been forced to obey the queen’s commands, unable to break free. If she tried, the vines on her skin would burn agonizingly, stopping her from being able to think, much less act. She’s halfway between hope and giving up. But one day, she swears she’ll break the curse and do everything in her power to avenge her parents and take Titania down.

#freya #freya gunnulf #freya merrynight gunnulf #middleverse #middleverse oc #faerie #my ocs

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babydollsmadd · 6 years

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25, 23, 29, and 30 because i hate (love) you and want you to suffer 💖💖💖💕

EYYYY I’m finally getting around to finishing these lmao. (also I just noticed u changed ur profile picture???? I’m iN LOVE ❤️✨❤️)

WARNING this is super mega long!

I ended up writing a lot of these for all of my paras bc I can’t fucking stop myself n you’ve honestly heard enough of my mains and not enough of my others so I Had to I’m so sorry

this entire post ended up being such a mess and I’ve been working on it for weeks I’m so fucking sorry

send me emoji asks!

🏈 Does your para enjoy playing sport?

Zazie does actually enjoy playing sports quite a bit, just.. alone. He’s not a team player, and often doesn’t know his own strength, so it’s better to let him do things on his own. He used to do a lot of running & parkour, but nowadays he mostly just works out on his own. He still does gymnastics tho. Tatsu very much loves playing sports, be it soccer, football, whatever, he’s in. He likes team sports, but he’ll still go work out alone most of the time. With Nyru it’s a bit more complicated, bc on one hand she has to be in top form for her concerts, but on the other, she really hates sports and just moving in general. Usually Zazie motivates her n they end up working out together, but otherwise, she doesn’t like playing any sports. Nyro plays a lot of chess, that counts right? Otherwise, he & Nyra really don’t like sports either. Meg & Ao tho work out a ton and always look incredible, and especially Meg enjoys playing sports, even if she’s not the best. She’s also quite strong tho, so that’s nice. I think Rin would be into sports as well, he’s all about a healthy balance in his life. He spends so much time painting, that I feel like he’d take some time for physical activities as well. Daiki is a fucking nerd and hates sports as much as Nyru, a subject they like to rant about a lot. Suki probably isn’t into sports either, like at all. Ami.. yeah actually. She spends a lot of time with the more active in the group, especially her brother, so she’d be into team sports as well.

🌼 Describe the aesthetic of your para (can include visual)

OKAY u already know how much trouble I’m having with this one but. My first plan was to actually write them down, like, all those posts u always see, but I only really liked the one I wrote for Zazie, all the others I disliked. Now I’m going back to wanting to make boards, and I think that’d be really cool, but I just do not have the energy to make all of those first, so I’m putting this on my to do list and hopefully I’ll actually do that at some point lmao. Now I can finally post this beast. ✨

✍ Write headcanons/imagine about your para(s)

OKAY so uhh. With any other person I would just take some more points from my hella long list of fun facts about Zazie, but you know literally all of them. I think?? Yeah literally every single one of these I’ve told you about. So. Huh. What do I do now. We’re at a point where I can’t tell you shit about Zazie & Nyru bc you literally know everything. So let’s see if I can come up with some other facts about Tatsu on the spot bc he needs more love.

despite the fact that he’s been appearing a lot less in my daydreams, my heart still goes ❤️🚨❤️🚨❤️ when I think about Tatsu.

i mean COME ON he’s amazing and he needs to come back I miss him!!!!!! I just feel like he’s been.. sorta withdrawn and depressed since he’s no longer with Nyra. That happened a while ago tho, idk maybe he’ll finally come back soon.

not sure if I ever told u this?? but he also doesn’t have a gag reflex. like at all. zero (0). 👀 for some reason he likes to bring this up in the most random moments too.

he’s actually fluent in 4 languages, at some point Zazie dragged him down the rabbit hole and they learned a bunch of languages together. these are English, Spanish, Japanese & German.

he has an incredible voice as well, obviously. it’s relatively high, but has this.. hmm I guess seductiveness about it? not sure how to explain it lmao. apart from Jay Kay & Brendon Urie, this song here is very close.

he can hit ridiculously high notes, on the same level as Nyru actually.

I told u this before, but his theme song is hey look ma, I made it due to how fucking perfect it is for him. he was very close with his birth mother, but she died shortly after his sister’s birth. his step mother was very abusive & made their life a living hell, and now, many years after they’ve gotten out of that situation, he still wishes he could show his real mother what has become of them.

he really didn’t deserve all of the bad shit that has happened him. sadly, he’s kind of a sheep, he just follows along with whatever’s happening. he’s not a bad person at all, he truly has a heart of gold, he just doesn’t have the strength to actually fight against anything. not really.

so in situations where he has to do bad things bc Zazie basically tells him to, he’ll do it, matter how much he hates it. man writing that out is actually heartbreaking damn.

he has a lot of regrets in his life, but the biggest one is probably his relationship with Nyra. he really did love her (still does tbh but don’t tell anyone), it’s just that he really fucked that up. and I don’t think he’ll ever be able to have a normal, healthy monogamous relationship the way Nyra wanted. so that’s heartbreaking as well. why did this turn into me talking about how fucking sad I am about Tatsu lmao ok we done here

🎙 Write a poem/song/or a story with song verses about your para or parascom

nshjfbkjdsbfkjds u know I hate poetry & I’m way too insecure about my writing so we’ll just uh… write down a fitting song verse for each of of my paras.

Zazie

I ain’t niceNo I’m quite a dickI’m the bad guy who’s makin’ you sickIt’s easy for meI’ve got no shameI’m in it for the money and fame

Nyru

But I got a mind to show my strengthAnd I got a right to speak my mindAnd I’m gonna pay for thisThey’re gonna burn me at the stakeBut I got a fire in my veinsI wasn’t made to fall in line

Tatsu

So I don’t feel loveBecause I got no faithI’ve seen those twisted lies thrown back into my faceI’ve heard the crazy doctrines of the human raceI must be alone

Daiki

Got an eagle beak with the ostrich feetSeven spider eyes for every day of the weekMeans I’m still up working while your bitch ass sleepsI’m an alien among the human beings

Nyra

Picture, picture, smile for the picturePose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister?Everyone thinks that we’re perfectPlease don’t let them look through the curtains

Nyro

Triangles are my favourite shapeThree points where two lines meetToe to toe, back to back, let’s goMy love, it’s very late‘Til morning comesLet’s tessellate…

Megumi

I just keep elevating, no losses, just upgradingMy lessons, made blessings, I turned that into moneyThank God I never settled, this view is so much betterI’m chilling, I’m winning, like on another level

Ami

Well you think that you know what I am but you don’t‘Cause I say what you can’t and I do what you won’tI like it loud really proud like a crown upon my headI’ll always be this way ‘till the day that I’m dead

Somehow, you’ve remained modestFlashbulbs pop, paparazzi goes wildWith amazing grace you walk and smileThey answer to your beck and callYou’re flawless

Rin

Prove to yourselfThere’s nobody elseRaise up your handAnd leave no man standing

Suki

I see how your attention buildsIt’s like looking in a mirrorYour touch like a happy pillBut still all we do is fearWhat could possibly happen next?Can we focus on the love?

#baby answers #paraportal #ask meme #get this beast outta my draaaaaaafts #I hope you're satisfied 😂

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femmesfollesnebraska · 6 years

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Naida Mujkić , poet

Thrilled to feature the poetry of Naida Mujkić along with an interview. Enjoy!

Where are you from? How did you get into creative work and what is your impetus for creating?

That is a a key philosophical question. J Where do we all come from? I was born in former Yugoslavia, but not as a free human being, you know, because in those 7 years of my life in that country, I didn’t have the right to my own language and to my identity, as the basic right of every human being. I survived the hell of a Bosnian war, and now I live in a maybe free small country that goes by the name of Bosnia, but I also spent some time in Australia and Austria.

What moved me to be creative is the agony of the war. Sad, but true, as is was the main topic of my writing and my life, and its influence on the life of every woman who was lucky to survive. So many woman were raped, and abused in so many ways in the past 25 years in my country, and I felt the need to use the language of art to express the my pain and pain of others. It doesn’t hurt less if you share your pain with another person, but pain becomes bearable.

Tell me about your current/upcoming show/exhibit/book/project and why it’s important to you. What do you hope people get out of your work?

Well, last year I tried to write my first novel. And it went well, for that six months, but then I leave it aside and went back to writing poetry. Now I have been working on a book that I call “Old Clock” and it is a book of poetry that includes a lot of poems about migrants from Asia whom I spent some time every day in trains and buses while travelling to work.

Does collaboration play a role in your work—whether with your community, artists or others? How so and how does this impact your work?

Couple of years ago I started a female poets group with some of my female poets friends and students. “Euterepes poetes group” was the name of the group. We tried to write some themed poems (about mass graves) and then performed it in the streets and parks of our town. I could not imagine my writing without other writers and poets, and so far I have friends among them all around world.

Considering the political climate, how do you think the temperature is for the arts right now, what/how do you hope it may change or make a difference?

Hmm, from its early beginning, from Sumerian and Akkadian ancient literature till now – it seems to me it was never right temperature for art and artist. Even today in some countries artists are imprisoned (and even dies) because of their art, because of the way they see and describes this world. This winter my son asks me “What is eternal in this world?”, and at that moment I stopped and think and gave him that one answer that I could give “Art is eternal”. But, the main thing always was that art helped changed the way people think, it pushes humans to woke up and think about their role and meaning of their existence in our world.

Artist Wanda Ewing, who curated and titled the original LFF exhibit, examined the perspective of femininity and race in her work, and spoke positively of feminism, saying “yes, it is still relevant” to have exhibits and forums for women in art; does feminism play a role in your work?

Feminism and its ideas liberate woman across the world. It set us free from the male dominance, but of course there are so many things we need to do until we truly can say that we are equal to men in all the ways there are. Some time ago in my home town it was forbidden for woman to drive bicycle. Can you imagine that? But that change. And I wrote about it.

Ewing’s advice to aspiring artists was “you’ve got to develop the skill of wen to listen and when not to;” and “Leave. Gain perspective.” What is your favorite advice you have received or given?

First time I left my son with my parents for a couple of days, a strange woman I’ve accidentally met said to me “Separation is a part of growing up.” Time pass, my son is old enough to take care of himself, I have my writing and work, and everybody are happy.

The city of birds

I had a dream that I've moved

To the city of

Cockcatoo birds

They're bringing shells to my

Feet

And little hearts of wood

There was a seaweed there too

And a woman's rubber boot

In front of my doors

In fact

It only appeared to be a woman's boot

As it was red and tiny

And I picked up the heart

And got back to the house

Inside everything is dead

Flower paintings are growing into the walls

Dead curtains from which dust comes off

And lies in the light on the floor

There're no flies inside

Because the windows are covered with thick

Iron grids

Birds are not inside

What the hell could the birds

Be doing in the house?

Ever since I came to this house

The rain hasn't fallen

My lips are cracking

My arms are cracking

The eyeball front

Is cracking

Pencils in my hands are cracking

The bread in the pan has cracked

So I don't know if I should bake it

Or leave it to the birds

The next morning

I found letters in the mailbox

They were cracking in my hands

"Come back", it said

But now the birds wouldn't let me come back

They wanted to hurt me

And I wanted to give myself to them

Their eyes are mesmerising me

The sea

Gets into the cracks on my hands

I feel its mystery

Reminiscence

There is a woman residing in my wardrobe.

In the morning, she thinks I am sleeping,

so on the tips of her fingers she gets into the kitchen.

She opens the fridge. I hear the glimmering of milk

in her throat, I hear her yawning and wiping her lip,

I hear her stretching, and afterward

her fingers cracking the shell of egg and sipping.

She takes a look out of the kitchen window a little bit

and returns to the closet again on the tips of her fingers.

A floor is antique, broken up and sometimes it screaks.

When floor screaks, she pauses and bites for a lip.

Beneath her it is a puddle of blood that has my face.

But we do not meet there, because it is late for great love.

How many times have we been flourishing and falling?

That tastes of rotten herbs, and those brown spots that blaze.

Corpses of mornings under my bed.

Now she does not know whether to go back

into the closet or fall out of the window.

At the street, a man is singing an unknown melody:

rain comes ... black clouds string in the sky…

Mornings are shorter every day, and

our apples of the eyes are spreading, as usual,

demanding the passion that keeps us alive.

No one believes that an unknown woman lives in my wardrobe.

'Everything is fictional,' they say. Rivers of illusions. Anxiety.

Only a man who is singing under the window, with lost feelings,

sees the lines of two shadows.

Little Shoes

As he took his hand out of her panties Italian licked every finger, she got up and went to the door – obviously, that needed to be done after they honored their part of the deal – and he said “come back”.

“Come back”, he said. “I did not measure your foot”.

Of course he did not have to measure her foot, she could have told him her size. He did not need to bother, it would be more practical. He held sewing measuring tape in his hand and she took of her boot with the help of a wooden floor. That took time, since she was not wearing any socks, so the boot sticked to her skin. She felt ashamed for her dirty shriveled leg – she always thought that hygiene reveals alot about little girls. In her case: that she did not spend much time in her house, and that her mother is more involved in other things.

How did they say goodbye? Did they shook hands? Kiss on her hair? She could not remember.

But she saw his face covered with tiny hair, without wrinkles and cube chaped glasses that gave him serious framing, It was a fair face, one of those that you could let yourself to it freely. She thought how her life could have been diferent if she could see that at that point. But, that was a long time ago, in the last year of war, and she did not know much about shoe sizes, or about faces.

Naida Mujkić (1984) Bosnian poetess. She holds PhD in Literature. She was a guest artist at Q21 Museumsquartier Wien and Goten Publishing Skopje. She published 6 books of poetry and over 30 scientific papers.

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins. LFF Booksis a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Current call for collaborative art-writing: http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/181376606692/lff-2019-artistpoet-collaborations

https://www.facebook.com/femmesfolles

#feministart #artistpoetcollaborations

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