#he will force me into a healthy lifestyle and I will cry over his beautiful existence. I shall remind him every day that he’s a hero.

[avionvadion]

Just some memes about my twst experiences so far, lol.

Vil: “You worked hard getting those keys and gems. I’ll acknowledge this and reward you accordingly. With my presence. Because I am the greatest reward there is.”

Me: “So true, my queen. I am unworthy. But thank you oh my gods-“

Malleus: “You think all these gems and keys are enough to entice me? Pathetic. Send an invitation letter, and then I’ll consider it.”

Me: *crying, clinging to Vil’s legs because he’s the only one of my favorites who loves me back enough to consistently come home*

Azul: “What am I, chopped liver?”

Me: “I’M STILL MAD AT YOU FOR THE VIL THING.”

[nikkireedsource]

Nikki Reed Doesn't Believe in "Good" or "Bad" Dieting Days

Everyone thinks actresses deprive themselves and have ninja-level discipline. I'm here to tell you that healthful habits needn't be synonymous with Hollywood thinness.

Welcome to Take Five, my new recurring beauty and nutrition column on ELLE.com culled from a lifelong passion for animals, the outdoors, and feeling good. For me, the notion of taking five—whether the number pertains to ingredients in a food or just a moment to ask your body how it's feeling—can make all the difference. Consider this your 300-second-long wellness retreat.

Last post I sort of introduced my ethos as well as ideas and beliefs that govern my own relationship with health and wellness. I want to say one thing before I dive into today's topic: Please know that everything I do in my life (and explore here on ELLE.com) is based on what makes me feel good, what I have read, and what I have learned from the people with whom I surround myself. In fact, I am still finding what works for me and discovering the balance through trial and error. If you are fueled by what fuels me, please read on!

Just over six years ago, I quit smoking. This decision was, to say the least, a major turning point in my life. It was one of the greatest challenges I've ever faced and I had little to no guidance nor a strong example leading me. I remember calling my dad during a very delicate time in our adult relationship and saying, 'I don't know if I can do it.' At the age of 21, I had never even stepped on a treadmill. I smoked and I drank Diet Coke; that was my life. Somehow I knew it had to change, and this was the first step.

While most people turn 21 and decide to go out and party, I turned 21 and decided that I was going to become somebody that I never thought I could be: somebody who cares about herself and her body, her future, and her health. I remember crying on the phone on day one of quitting, and my dad (even though he didn't smoke) just saying, 'Hey, we'll do it together. No big deal. We'll get healthy together.' It was that simple to him, and it unknowingly created a bond between us that has evolved into one of, if not the, most important relationships in my life. We rely on each other for motivation, we share articles about health and food, and we inspire each other in ways I could never imagine. He and I began talking on the phone while holding onto the counter and doing squats (I'm not kidding). As a result of creating a more thoughtful regimen for himself, my dad lost weight, lowered his cholesterol—which was the main objective—and felt better about life, his career, the way he looked, and the way he felt. He essentially became the life example I needed. It's worth noting that, if you look at my father now, he looks younger than he did 20 years ago.

The reason I am telling you this story is because there is no right time to decide to get healthy. You can be 21 and starting over, which can have its downsides—let's just say I wasn't the "coolest" kid on the block because my lifestyle shifted in a way that made me a bit of an outcast. (Not drinking or smoking wasn't really on-trend back then.) You can also be 50 and decide that you need to make a change. It works at any age, so long as you're committed to seeing it through.

Honestly, it's the little changes that make the difference. I've embraced the mentality that while I work I can also be working out. For example, for my birthday this year, my brother and father decided to make me a standup desk; now, while I'm on a business call, I'm also going to be moving my feet a little bit or walking around. You can also sit on a ball at your desk so you are forced to work on posture. I ride my bike when I can so that I don't have to drive, and this leads me to my next thought: being mindful when it comes to our environment. In California we're currently in a drought. In the last two weeks since I've been back from Europe, I've seen a drastic shift in our water supply. When your home relies on a well as ours does, you are extremely aware of what is actually happening amidst a water crisis. Ian and I have spent a lot of time figuring out ways to avoid water overconsumption. We no longer wash our dishes with the water running, instead we soap them up and do a quick, one-time rinse. When we brush our teeth, we don't let the water run. I've also taken to shampooing my hair and then turning the water on to rinse. It's the little things we can all do, we just have to make it a point to actually do them. We have to hold ourselves accountable, not for validation, but simply because we understand what it means if we don't. Okay, PSA over.

Now, just because I love writing and talking about this stuff doesn't mean that I'm always strict with my intake. For the most part I try to stay away from high fructose corn syrup and citric acid. I try to eat things, as I wrote before, with less than five ingredients. Other than that, moderation is pretty hard for me. I wish I could be the woman that was like, 'Yeah, I can have cookies in my regular diet because I can just have one bite of a cookie and walk away.' Nope! When I see a tray of cookies I want the whole fucking tray. That's just how it is. I believe in the cheat day. Instead of saying, 'I'm going to have one pancake for breakfast and then one bite of a dessert at dinner,' I try to eat clean six days a week and then on Sundays, I have a free-for-all. Now, I definitely don't eat seven pizzas and 20 donuts, but I have days when I'm not constantly monitoring what I'm doing. It really is all about the majority. (See some of my must-have healthstore items, below.)

Clockwise from left-to-right: Numi tea; goji berries; Ezekiel bread; Go Raw protein powder; Manna bread; Brain Octane; Two Moms in the Raw granola; Kale crunch snacks; Raw-revolution snack bars; local honey.

I try to think of food like fuel. I don't look at calories; I just look at ingredients. If my body were an engine, what would make it run? What would make it perform at its highest level? If I want to be able to go for a three mile run in the morning and I wake up and eat a plate of waffles, I know that I'll feel less motivated and more sedated due to all that wheat and sugar. I try to think, 'What makes me feel strong?' But that doesn't mean that the things I put in my body have less calories. They could even have more calories, but I wouldn't know because I don't count them! Sometimes I make smoothies that are at least 800 calories per smoothie; I eat an entire avocado with a spoon as a snack; I consume more than most men I know. This lifestyle is not about being skinny.

Also, can I just say it? I hate the word "good" when its used with regard to food, and I really hate the word "dieting." Dieting, to me, refers to some temporary solution to feeling insecure. I like to look at my last six years as a lifestyle shift, not some temporary fix so that I can look better in tighter clothing. I wanted to feel better, stronger, and more confident. If I sent you a picture of my body right now—which, of course, I am reluctant to do because inevitably people will go, 'Oh, she's so full of shit'—you would see that I don't have a perfect, "fat-free body." In fact, I don't even know what that means. I have all kinds of "flaws" that, by industry standards, make me "imperfect." Here's what I do know: I'm healthy and I exercise. I also know that that is all I care about. I have a beautiful body, but it doesn't include a six pack. And, at some point, I will show you photos of what a normal-bodied, actress/writer, animal loving chick who's not super skinny looks like. Until then, take five.

Original article

[shirophantomvox]

Tie the Knot

Hello, anon! Thank you for this request. I have to say, writing for another character is very exciting! Keep in mind that I am still watching season 1 where Joseph Joestar is introduced, and we learn that Lisa Lisa is his mother but he is unaware of the fact. I am going to try my best to portray Dio. If I am correct, Dio is a self-absorbed brat as a teenager who always fought Jonathan because he secretly admired him and was quite jealous of the bond he and Jonathan’s father had. So Dio killed Jonathan’s dog. Because of his abusive father, he reciprocates those feelings, thoughts, and actions and has caused him to reign like hell for 100 years more. Although the story takes place in the late 1800s in England, I’ve pushed it forward to the 1950s in New York. Hopefully, I do well. I would love for JJBA fans to give me a follow!

Story navigation

THIS EVENT IS OVER

-------------------------------------❤️--------------------------------------

July 6th, 1958

Wedding bells rang and sang, echoing their joyous strains throughout the city of Manhattan. The town was usually silent, but it erupted with laughter, crying, and a mixture of both as the two newlyweds made their way out of the chapel. It felt like yesterday was the day Dio Brando laid his eyes on you; something so majestic it had him conflicted. Given his shady past, he felt humans were cold and spineless; they deserved to be in pain and suffer just like he did. He even admitted to contemplating crudely pranking you when he saw you sitting under an apple tree reading. Your innocent demeanor drove him mad; both out of admiration and wanting to tease you. The people scrambled like flies when Dio towered over the tree you laid carelessly on, but you were oblivious to the fact. Seeing everyone run for their lives struck a nerve, but even if their actions were correct; you’re doomed anyway.

Goodness gracious, who could forget that day? He had to be at least 24 years old with a chest as hard as armor. Dio stood over you, tall and strong; not budging at all to assert some sort of dominance. His thighs were as large as you if you had a clone and merged them together. His arms were so muscular that at the slightest touch of glass or anything fragile, it would simply shatter. The force from just a mere touch was too much to handle. A green plastic heart covered most of his forehead, probably red underneath due to it being tied much too tight. Dio was beautiful, no doubt about it, but his insane dominant behavior was radiating off his body. He didn’t have to say a word, his actions spoke for him. Finally, he crouched down at your level, smiling widely as usual. The touch of his index finger gently grazing your chin felt satisfying beyond recognition, but it didn’t matter. Dio was far out of your league; there was no way he’d take dating you seriously. He chuckled silently at your cute, surprised gaze.

“Close your mouth. You don’t want a fly in there, do you?” For such a healthy man, his deep booming voice didn’t surprise you, but what did surprise you were the length of his nails and the softness of his eyes. Such a monstrous man would have eyes like the devil, but he did not. Dio lifted your chin so you could make eye contact with him. Gazing into one’s eyes while the other is speaking is a sign of respect and confidence.

“That’s better,” he said, chuckling again. “Tell me, what is your name, lovely.”

As burly as he was, your strike of fear seemed to fade away, as you felt a sense of familiarity. The color of his blonde hair was a key identifier to who he was. His eyeliner was rather thick underneath his eye, almost portraying he had a thing for the gothic lifestyle. From that moment on, the conversation that you held lasted for hours underneath that green apple tree in an empty park as the sunset. At that moment, the idea of marriage never crossed your mind, but thank heavens it did. As your friendly relationship advanced, you couldn’t bear the sight of him being with someone else. You grew to love his childish pranks, irritating actions, and overbearing passes, but, hey; what did you expect from a man from a questionable past? Everyone wished nothing but joy for your lifetime commitment. The additional wishes for love and happiness gave you hope Dio would remain your partner forever.

At the reception, the photographer insisted on taking several photos of you both. Being in a dark room and the flash of a camera nearly blinded you both to the point you almost stumbled over your dress. Dio, being the vigorous man he is, caught you in an instant. Your tiny hands, compared to his bulging arms, gripped him, trying your best to act like you hadn’t tripped at all.

“Careful, there,” he said. You weakly smile, blushing a little at his sly comment. Of course, he sincerely meant it, but just a petty part of him wanted to be funny. He couldn’t resist being childish.

A shiny, brand new Rolls Royce parked outside of the reception hall. The bumper had pop cans taped to it barely hanging on for dear life. The back window had white chalk marker all over it, written in cursive to once again remind you of your lifetime commitment.

Just married, it read in big and bold cursive white writing.

Everyone cheered, throwing rice at you both as you entered the limo. The view of your friends and family disappeared as it swallowed the limo in the darkness. The ride to the hotel was rather smooth; as far as traveling went, but the silence exchanged by you both was rather odd. For years, you and Dio would have conversations under the same apple tree in Manhattan and even at the reception, but on the ride there, you remained silent. Was it contained excitement? Were you scared? Was it shock? Either way, the adrenaline in your system was ranging; it was all these emotions bottled ready to explode.

The hotel was rather silent, assuming everyone was asleep for the night. It was 2 am after all. After boarding the freight elevator, Dio held you in his arms, back in his right, and legs in his left. The light of the elevator lustered your skin; exposing the tiny muscles running through it. Spending several hours jogging, lifting household items, and being rebellious against roles and stereotypes for that time made you all the better. Your legs, perfectly shaped, would be eye candy and would distract any man if they entered the elevator. A wolf whistle escaped Dio’s lips, slightly growling in your ear. You blushed slightly, hiding your face as if anyone else had been in the elevator with you.

“You are so adorable . Do you know that? You always seem to get so flustered, it boosts my ego.”

“Don’t toot your own horn, Dio. You have an entire night to woo me.”

“Just one night? What about the countless years we’ve spent together?”

Carrying on with your conversation, he temporarily put you down to open the door. As you entered, the staff decorated the room with freshly lit candles, rose petals, roses, and a welcoming basket the staff left congratulating you on your newly made nuptials. You gasped at the beautifully arranged room, seeming to forget about the man you just married. The sight of one candle diverted your attention; it was the touch of Dio’s lukewarm hands around your waist that put you back into reality. You gasped at his touch, earning another chuckle from him. He could tell that you were nervous, but he was ready to release all the love he’d developed for you.

“You’re so jumpy. Are you alright?”

You gaze into his eyes completely for the first time in a while. There was a strike of fear piercing through your core, but it wasn’t out of imminent danger but more of a question of how you’d handle pleasure throughout the night. It was scary, but once it happened, the fear would disappear once it started.

“I’m fine... just a little nervous. This is my first time being intimate.”

As egotistical as he was, this didn’t boost his ego in the slightest. Being a virgin, even during that time period, meant nothing. He viewed you as an equal; something many men didn’t do then. It only fueled his ego during certain interactions; this was not one of them. As you turned to walk towards the bathroom, he bent down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, and moved to your lips. It surprised you how long and how placed his lips were against yours. Believe it or not, a kiss hadn't been shared since the wedding ceremony. How could two newlyweds last over 9 hours without kissing? Dio was a bold man; regardless of any religious pressure, he would have swallowed you whole, but the only thing preventing him was his temper. He didn’t want to ruin your day by being arrested, so he swallowed his pride and let it slide. He placed his large hands on your waist. His hands were so big that they were overlapping themselves. His groin grazed gently against yours, moving his lips from yours to our neck. You smiled, grazing your nose against his.

“That was rather intense,” you said, smiling.

“I will not let you go to bed without giving me some sugar. That kiss earlier was a ritual. This one was pre-game. There is more to come.”

-------------------------------------❤️--------------------------------------

[onyxfox]

Izuku Helping You Do Your Natural Hair

Warning: Mild language

(an: Okay sooo, this is my first time writing a hc and I was a little nervous to begin with, so please leave me feedback and let me know what I can improve! :) ♡ )

“I’ll never understand what I’ve done to become so lucky.”

•You had been dating pro-hero Deku for a year now, and the two of you couldn’t be happier.

•You were not a pro-hero, so relating to the pro-hero lifestyle wasn’t something that you were easily able to do. 

•Nonetheless, you sympathized with your boyfriend when he came home exhausted from a hard day’s work, giving him as many hugs, praises, and kisses as his flustered heart could take. Izuku was entranced by your beauty, inside and out. 

•However, on this day, the hugs, praises, and kisses would have to wait. 

You groaned as you opened your phone and checked the calendar. Yup. It was wash day. The day you absolutely adored and dreaded at the exact same time. Now don’t be confused. You absolutely loved your hair. It was without a doubt one of your own favorite features. The way it bounced in your hand as you skillfully detangled? The way your coils and curls absolutely popped after a good day of deep conditioning and moisturizing? The intense shine that adorned it afterwards? It was enough to make a hairdresser cry. However, with great bad bitch power came great bad bitch responsibilities.

Thankfully, it was your day off. You spent majority of it doing some cleaning, shopping, and lounging around your apartment. Per usual, your pro-hero boyfriend Izuku had quietly slipped out much earlier that morning having spent the night at your place, planting soft kisses on your cheek and forehead. He always did his best not to wake you before he left, and sometimes, it worked. However, most mornings, you liked to pretend to be asleep, somewhat to keep him from flying into a fit of apologies for waking you, but mostly to listen to him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. 

Every day, you two grew more and more grateful to be in each other’s lives. 

Thought the first half of your day was spent productively, you were secretly digging up more and more tasks to keep yourself occupied from taking care of what should have been done earlier. It was 11 PM at this point. Were you seriously about to start your wash “day” now??

 After relaxing on the sofa for a few more minutes, and weighting out your options, you groan and finally decide to get up and get started. Your favorite bluetooth speaker was fully charged and ready to go. “With a battery life of 12 hours, I’m damn sure going to need it,” you thought to yourself as you grabbed the speaker and headed to the bathroom. You started with your favorite pre-poo treatment, carefully detangling your hair in the process. After allowing the solution to sit for a bit, you grab your shampoo, conditioner, and scalp massager, turn on your speaker, put on your favorite wash day playlist, and immediately get to work.

 Gently scrubbing the shampoo onto each section of your scalp, working to get off all of the build up from the previous week. After taking a break to respectfully bounce your ass to the music bumping through your speaker, you decide that your scalp has finally had enough and decide to rinse. Next, you begin working your conditioner into your hair, first using your fingers to rake the product through, then a small detangling brush. Once each section was complete, you throw on your shower cap and step out of the shower. You could’ve shaved today, but considering that you had skipped breakfast that morning, it became more important that you ate. You grabbed a some snacks, plugged in your heat cap, and set your 30 minute timer. 

You noticed a text from Izuku amidst the flood of uninteresting notifs that you had received from other apps. You had told him repeatedly that texting you while he was at work was not a priority, but regardless, he always managed to ‘forget’ ever having that conversation. However, he never meant any harm. Hearing from you while he was away for hours upon hours gave him comfort. He just wanted to know that you were okay. He wanted to protect you. 

‘Izuku♡: “Hey babe! ♡ I’m just checking in on you to make sure you’re doing okay. I’ll be home soon! :)” 

You couldn’t help but smile at his text. Although you were well aware that Izuku loved you, it still made your heart swell to see him show just how much he cares. Just as you were about to reply, your timer began to ring. With your smile still on your face, you sigh and remove the cap from your head, placing your phone face down on the couch. 

After rinsing your hair with the removable shower head, you grab a chair from the kitchen and waddle back into your bathroom, ready to tackle phase two of the process. You grab a towel and begin to gently squeeze your dripping ends. 

Thus begins the detangling process. 

Sectioning your hair off into fours, you begin getting to work. It was going on 12 AM at this point, and you silently cursed yourself for even allowing an 11 PM wash “day” to be an option for you. Your arms slowly began to burn as you forced yourself to continue, eager to be done as quickly as possible. As you sigh and drop your arms in defeat, you hear a soft knock at the door. You stood in silence. You weren’t expecting anyone over, and Izuku normally called you before he was on his way...

The phone. 

You walk to the couch and pick up your phone. Yep. ‘Izuku♡ (2 Missed Calls)’.

“Fuck.” You quickly tighten your robe and head towards the door, peeking through the hole to see your tired-looking boyfriend on the other side. You unlock the door to see Izuku smiling, still wearing his hero costume and holding a white grocery bag. You quickly gesture for him to come inside. Despite seeing him smile, his eyes gave away truly how tired he was. After a small shower of kisses and some small talk about his day, you notice that the white bag on the counter is full of food. “Babe, what’s this?” you ask, tilting your head slightly and smiling. He shyly rubs the back of his neck, “Well, it’s pretty late, and I thought that you might be hungry... so I stopped to get us some meat buns to eat! It’s not really anything special, but..” You walk over to him and cut him off, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Izuku.” 

His cheeks turned a deep crimson as a sweet smile spread across his face. “...it’s nothing.” You look back over at the bag of food and sigh. “I really wish I could take a break right now, but I’ve really god to finish up with my hair,” you groan. “I’ve been tussling with it all day, and I really want to finish things up so I can go to bed.” Izuku stares at you for a moment before smiling and taking your hand. “Huh? Where are you-?” He walks right into your shared bathroom and grabs your seat, slowly easing you into it. “Well since you’ve been working with that all day, how about you take a break and I can give you a hand.” You thought it over for a second, wondering if this would be a bad idea. Nonetheless, you trusted Izuku, and knew that he would never do anything to intentionally upset you. “Okay. Do you know what to do?” “Mhm!” You had not noticed in the past, the way his eyes glistened as he would watch you in the mirror, working product into each strand on your head. He paid attention to the order of the products, the way you worked the detangling brush along your strands. He had never admitted it, but to see your beautiful curls bounce and move with such body kept him absolutely mesmerized. 

Picking up your brush, Izuku held gently touched a section of your hair, removing the clip and gently gliding the brush against your ends. You watched him as he worked his way up, eyes focused on his task. A smile spread across your face and you sighed contently, watching him. The fact that your boyfriend was being so gentle and careful with your hair, for some reason, meant a lot. It touched your heart. You both sat in silence as he worked. 

 After a while more of detangling and moisturizing, Izuku was finished. “Well, how did I do?” You looked in the mirror at your healthy curls and grinned. “You did great! Thank you, baby.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “It was nothing! Besides, your hair is absolutely beautiful. I love everything about it. It will never be a chore for me to help you,” His hands on your waist gently spun you around to face the mirror. You both looked at each other through the glass as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder and rested his head. “...I’ll never understand what I’ve done to become so lucky to have you in my life.” 

[definitelyseven]

liability | ten

summary: reporter meets mafia boss, Park Jinyoung

one | two | three | four | five | six (m) | seven (m) | eight | nine (m) | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen (m) | fifteen | sixteen (m) | seventeen | eighteen - final |

It’s been two years since that night. Two years since you’ve last seen him. 

After that night, you never heard from him again. You called and texted everyday, and waited for months; still no response from Jinyoung or Mark. At first you were understanding, maybe it was urgent and maybe it was dangerous but after the 4th month, you knew he ghosted you. 

He was back in Seoul, he was on the news, he was fine, and he was healthy. There was no reason for him not to reach out to you except for the fact that he didn’t want to see you anymore. 

You found a new job as writer for a lifestyle magazine - it wasn’t your ideal job, but at least you knew you’d never run into Jinyoung for work again; that is until today.

“Hyewon, are you feeling better?” you asked your work best friend, as you put on your earrings.

“I’m dying,” she complained over the phone, making you laugh. “You know how badly I wanted to go to this gala. There will be so many rich and famous people there. I thought I would be able to find my future husband tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hard to find a man that is loyal AND rich,” you said speaking from experience. 

“I don’t care if he loves me, I care about his money,” Hyewon said honestly, making you laugh again. You wished you could brush off relationships like she could, but you could never. After Jinyoung, you never went on another date, never slept with anyone else. 

“Alright, feel better. I’ll do my best to get some good photos, and quotes for the magazine,” you tell her before hanging up. Since she was sick, your boss begged you to go in her place. He knew how much you hated going to these things and you made it very clear during your job interview that you never want to go to these things, but he didn’t have any other choice - everyone but you was busy tonight. 

It was the biggest event of the year and a lot of reporters and paparazzi was there. Hyewon was right - if she wanted to find a rich husband, tonight would be the perfect night. 

You knew he was going to be there tonight, but you thought if you just did your job quietly he wouldn’t see you. He walked into the room with a beautiful girl in his arms. She was stunning, breathtaking and looked like a perfect match for him. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if he was afraid that she was going to be swept away by another good-looking man in the room. 

He moved on. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeong. Can we get a photo of you with your beautiful date?” 

“Please call me Jaehyun,” he said posing in front of the camera with his date. “Would you like to dance?” he asked you. 

“I don’t think your date would like that,” you joked, making him and his date laugh. You thanked him again, looking at the photos and marking the ones that were good candidates for the cover of the magazine.

“What about me?” you hear someone say from behind. Your body froze, and your heart sank to your stomach. You recognized that voice. 

You turned around with a subtle smile and said, “Mr. Park.” 

“Its Mr. Park now?” 

“Can we get a photo for the magazine?” you asked pointing to the photographer. You had to be professional about this. This was the only relationship you had with him. 

“Sure, but only after you dance with me,” he proposed. You hesitated, biting your lip. Even after two years, Jinyoung was still the hottest topic in the news world. Your photographer elbows you to dance with him. 

“One dance,” you said walking to the dance floor with Jinyoung following behind. He takes your hand in his and wraps his arms around your waist. Your heart stung at his touch. You bit your lip, holding back your tears. 

“You look beautiful,” Jinyoung whispered in your ears.

“Don’t,” you said stopping him. “Don’t make this more than it has to be.”

Jinyoung knew you were upset. He knew he hurt you, and there was nothing he can say or do to make you forgive him.

“Y/N...” he said with a sigh. You were too busy focusing on not crying, to answer him. 

“Well, what do we have here?” It was his beautiful date. “Hello I’m Jinyoung’s fiancé, Irene,” she said with a smile. 

He was engaged. How could you be so stupid to think that he actually liked you and wanted to be with you? Most importantly, how could you lose your virginity to someone like him? You felt cheap. You barely knew him and you already gave yourself up. Irene was so beautiful, standing next to her made you feel ugly. No wondered Jinyoung liked her. 

“Hi I’m Y/N,” you said with a small smile before pulling away from Jinyoung and waving the photographer to come over. “A picture of you two?” She wraps her arms around his and poses for the camera. “Thank you,” you said before walking away. 

You did good. You were professional. 

--

A sports car pulls up beside you as you waited for the valet to come back with your car. You recognized the man that was getting out of the car. “I’m actually quite offended,” he said getting out of his car. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” you said looking at the man that was walking towards you. 

“You said no to dancing with me, but you danced with Jinyoung.”

You bit your lip, finally understanding what he was saying, “I’m sorry, it was part of the job.”

“Make it up to me,” Jaehyun requested. 

“What?”

“A date,” he clarified. “I want to take you out on a date.” You leaned down to look inside his car - no one. Where was the woman he was with this evening? “She wasn’t my type.”

“I’m actually not looking to date right now,” you kindly rejected, searching for the valet that took your car keys. 

“Are you trying to offend me?” he asked, stepping forward. 

“If being honest offends you, then I’m sorry that I offended you.” 

He chuckles, “I like you.”

“What’s going on over here?” someone behind you called. You turned around and saw Mark. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen or talked to him. 

“Going away, Tuan.” 

“Mr. Jeong, nice seeing you again,” he said with a force smile. “Y/N, you okay?” he said standing next to you.

“I’m fine.”

“Mr. Jeong, have a great night.” The three of you stood awkwardly on the side of street. No one said anything. Mark was staring him down, not bothering to move.

“Have a great night Y/N,” Mr. Jeong said giving your shoulder a light rub before leaving.

“Let’s go,” Mark said. You didn’t bother to move. “You know you have to come with me.”

“No Mark, I don’t.”

“Jaehyun is not as nice as he seems. He’s dangerous,” Mark warned. 

“I don’t need your protection,” you said walking away from him. 

“Don’t fight me on this.”

“I’m not fighting you. He’s not going to hurt me,” you assured him.

“You don’t know that! Don’t make me force you to come with me,” he said grabbing your shoulder.

“You need to let me go.”

“Even if I did, he won’t let you go. I’m sorry,” he said to you before everything went black. 

--

You woke up in a familiar room - the same room you were in 2 years ago and you instantly knew Mark brought you back. You got up off the bed and walked downstairs. Nothing had changed; not even the furniture. 

"My dear, Y/N!”

It was Mary. You smiled and made your way towards her, “Hi Mary. It’s been so long,” you said giving her a hug. 

“I missed you! I thought I’d never see you again,” Mary said, rubbing your arms up and down. 

“I should probably go before anyone notices.”

“They brought you here because it’s not safe. You can’t go,” she said holding your hand. “You haven’t even eaten dinner yet. Stay please,” she begged. 

“I’m sorry. I really can’t stay,” you tell her before walking towards the entrance. You didn’t want to be here, and you never wanted to come back. You wanted to get as far away from them as you possibly could. 

“I wouldn’t have brought you here, if I didn’t think it was necessary,” Jinyoung says from behind. He grabs the handle on the door and closes it, trapping you inside. 

You chuckled, “Should I say thank you for your consideration?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to dance. I should’ve ignored you,” Jinyoung confessed. 

“I wish you did,” you whispered. 

[deadontheinsidebut]

Hihihi! Been scrolling through your blog and I LOVE EM!!❤️ May i request a kuroo angst with fluffy ending? Let your brain run 🤩🤩

Hi!!! Yes ofc you can! I was actually debating making Kuroo cheat but our man ain’t no cheater so I thought this was better! I really hope you enjoy🤩💗 and thank you for the request. Please let me know if you ever have any other requests!! And if it’s not what you envisioned please feel free to tell me😬

In sickness and in health...

Pairing: Kuroo x fem!reader

Genre: angst!!!! And fluff soft boy at the end🥺🥺

Summary: You and Kuroo have been in love for the longest time. You’re both well into your 20s now but you’re so used to the wild life that you both are too afraid to slow down. But what happens when an uncontrollable circumstance gets in the way?

The sound of the car engine roared and blended with harmonious sounds of you and Kuroo’s laughing. The music blasted and the wind in your hair made you feel like a movie star. Because that’s what it was like being with Kuroo Tetsurou. He was the man of your dreams. Before meeting him, you never felt like anything special. You never even left the house. You owe him everything.

You feel his hand reach over and rest your thigh. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as thought he knew what you were thinking. You pull out your phone so you can record this moment forever. The atmosphere was perfect. Your boyfriend’s smile was contagious and the the 3am moon beaming over head was so exhilarating.

“Where are we going tonight, beautiful?” He asks as you continue to film the adventure.

“I want food. I want to go to a diner!!” You exclaim.

“Anything for my queen,” he responds.

Your breathing is quickening in the thrill of the moment and you can feel the lightness in your head.

Everything was going well... until you landed in the hospital.

Your eyes open only to see a very concerned Kuroo by your side. It was morning now. Your hand is intertwined with his and you can see the bags under his eyes. This was your least favourite Kuroo. You never wanted to see a sad expression on your boyfriend’s face. The Kuroo you know and love is always fun loving and energetic.

“You’re finally awake, princess.”

His voice is tired. You heard his voice crack. 

“What happened?”

“You had a heart attack. You fell unconscious when we were about to get food..” his voice trails off. 

You furrow your brows. A heart attack. But how?

The doctor knocks on the door and makes his way into the room. 

“Hello there y/n, I’m Dr. N and I have the results. You’ve been suffering from a coronary artery disease. Do heart diseases run in your family?”

His words did not completely process through your mind. Are you hearing him correctly? Kuroo’s eyes are widened in shock and he’s shaking. He’s shaking because of you.

“What exactly does that mean?” You ask, trying to stay strong for your boyfriend. 

“Your arteries are clogged and there is a buildup of cholesterol on the inner walls of your arteries. From now on you need to be more cautious with what you eat and focus on your health. Don’t do anything too wild,” the doctor’s voice trails on.

You’re breathing hard. You couldn’t even cry. The doctor leaves the room so you can have some alone time with Kuroo, but you can’t even meet his eyes. How could you possibly believe that your exuberant lifestyle could carry on when your health is dragging you down? Dragging Kuroo down. 

“We’ll get through this, y/n,” Kuroo whispers. 

He never uses your real name. You’re clenching your fists even as he reaches for your hand. You didn’t want to look at the disappointed look on his face. 

“Hey, look at me. They said we can go home. I’ll cook you a healthy meal or something. Maybe stay in and watch a movie?” 

Who were you to argue? You grumbled in compliance and he helped you get off the bed. The car ride home was silent. You could sense his gaze on you every few seconds as if he was making sure you weren’t going to pass out on him again. That bothered you. You didn’t like being looked at as a fragile doll. 

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble. 

“Oh, sorry princess,” Kuroo responds and nervously chuckles. 

The silence was deafening and filled with a million unsaid words. 

He tries to help you out of the car but you refuse. You walk ahead into the house. The distance between you two is strange. All you wanted to do was embrace him and stay there. You wanted to feel safe because this was scary for you. But how could you expect that of him when all you two have known was the dangers of life? 

“Let me take care of you,” Kuroo starts.

You reluctantly fall into his arms. 

A few days have passed now and you two have not been going out. Kuroo is very dedicated to keeping your health in top shape. The doctor recommended not eating fatty foods for a while and to get enough exercise so he was avoiding taking you out to eat altogether. 

Your conversations only consist of empty words and distant feelings. You felt like a burden and he thought he wasn’t doing enough for you. 

“I know we’re not going to be able to have as much fun for a while... or maybe even longer because of my health and I know how much you like to have fun so-” 

“Enough with the negative talk! If you have time to think that you should also know how I feel about pessimism,” he says.

That was your first argument in a long time. 

The tension and was only growing and you can feel your body being accustomed to the life indoors. It felt normal to not be running about all the time. The days that passed seemed to be much quieter. Kuroo was slowing down for you and you felt guilty because that was never how you envisioned his life to be. Were you being too insecure? 

“Say, y/n, how about we go out for a walk? The sun is shining!” Kuroo offers.

He’s never asked to go for a walk before.

“Why can’t we go out and hit the beach or something. We can open the sunroof in your car and just go wild. Wouldn’t that be more like old times?”

You see him shudder at the mention of riding in his car. It was apparent that he was not over the fact that you literally had a heart attack in his car. 

“I’m not feeling it today, princess. Lets just chill.”

“What the actual fuck, Kuroo?”

“P-princess?”

“You don’t have to slow down for me. Why are you treating me like I’m not capable of having fun?” 

You didn’t know why you were screaming now. Kuroo was just as surprised and his expression showed that he could barely recognize you. The lightheartedness was gone and you two were forced to face the reality that this was real. 

But neither of you were ready.

“I’m gonna leave for a bit..” Kuroo murmurs. 

“Answer my question!”

The desperation sounded disgusting. 

“We need to both relax a bit.”

“To hell with relaxing! Look at me! I’m. still. me. Stop pretending the woman you love disappeared the moment she landed in the hospital!” The tears were overflowing and the cracking of my voice was a pitiful cry. 

Kuroo was flinching at your harsh words. 

“Maybe you are gone...”

Your voice caught in your throat. 

“You don’t mean that. Kuroo look at me.”

“You’ve been pushing me away since the hospital. And I understand. I couldn’t even take care of you that night. You were passed out cold and I had no idea what to do. We’re both always so caught up in the fun we never focused on real life like the tears and pains. I was the one forcing your body to overwork itself and go out all night and... maybe your life would’ve been better without me.”

“This is MY burden to carry, not yours. Why are you giving up so easily?” But I’m whimpering now.

The silence went on for too long. 

“Lets just go on a break for a while I don’t know,” Kuroo suggests but you can hear the strain in his voice. 

“What... get out. Get out right now,” your voice is soft but deadly. 

The sound of the door shutting without the usual goodbye kiss from your ex lover is what broke you. In one second, your had lost everything. Your bottled up emotions immediately erupt. You’re clenching your fists and your tears are streaming down your face. The scream that escaped your mouth was deafening. The pain was real. And the worst part was that the breakup wasn’t the result of lost love, but a punch from reality. 

The days that passed were slower, more monotonous. You play the video from that night on your phone. You can hear the cheerful laughs and see the genuine smile on your boyfriend’s face. All was well. But a series of miscommunication and insecurities brought you to where you were. 

‘I should call him. I should apologize...’ you thought. This thought pondered your mind for countless days now.

‘If I hadn’t been so insecure of what we had things would’ve worked out. We had something good’

Your checkups to the doctor were lonely.

Your car rides to the grocery store were boring.

Your attempts to imagine the feelings Kuroo once brought out in you were useless.

God you wanted this boy back so badly it was starting to become unbearable.

You were struggling as you got out of the car carrying a few bags of grocery when a large hand extended itself towards you.

You look up to see the familiar black-haired male looking down at you with concern and regret. You started shaking and immediately dropped the bags. Your pride was out the door the moment you saw him and you leaped into his arms. He trembled at your touch but he returned your embrace with just as much intensity.

Once again, there were a million unsaid words, but the silence was comfortable. He releases you and his eyes search for answer within yours.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I-I abandoned you when you needed someone the most!” He cries out.

“Let’s just do what we should’ve done in the first place and talk things out properly,” you decide.

The two of you make your way into the house and you feel him squeeze your hand. He caresses your face with his other hand and you two begin your long conversation about your biggest worries and greatest fears. You talk about the misunderstandings and how you were both so busy living in the moment that you never stopped to think about how your relationship could potentially have doubts and pains.

Eventually, you two have ended up intertwined on the couch. You’re crying silently into his chest and he’s running his hands through your hair while placing soft little kisses on your head. You both lacked balance, but you were willing to rebuild.

“Let me take care of you,” your boyfriend repeated against your hair, “let me be your rock.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out and have fun?” You ask.

You can feel him smile into your hair, “who says we can’t have both, princess?”

And that’s what happened.

You both were more in love than ever. The silence that was once painstakingly heartbreaking was now filled with unconditional love. And you didn’t feel insecure the way you did because you ARE special even without Kuroo.

You step into Kuroo’s car and he’s grinning from ear to ear. The comfortable feeling of the wind blowing in your hair made you feel like you were on top of the world. And the feeling of Kuroo’s hand on your thigh was exhilarating. You look into his eyes and you see the promise that he’s been trying to make since the beginning:

I will love you in sickness and in health.

[kuroyurishion]

Symbiosis AU Part 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Platonic DRLAMP

Chapter Summary: Thomas finds an intruder broke into his house. Neither he nor his Sides are happy about it. 

Warnings: Cursing, Spiders, Guns, Breaking into someone’s house, violence and other weaponry, Blood

Additional Note(s): Thank you to the amazing @thesearcher1092 for making the awesome TikTok that inspired my brain to write this up. It was a long time coming, but it’s finally here! I know I said I wanted to make one fanfic about it, but my brain was like “why not make a whole AU about it”. So, enjoy!

Ready? Let’s Begin. 

Chapter 1: Intruder Alert

Thomas was trying to have a relaxing day off. After weeks of work, he finally has three days to himself, and he was determined to make the best of them. He was rewatching The Office on his couch when he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. He tried to ignore it, but it kept getting worse. Groaning, he pressed pause on his computer.

“Virgil?” he called out carefully. His anxious side had a tendency to lash out, so Thomas had to tread carefully. Virgil showed up in his usual place by the stairs, hood drawn and arms crossed gripping his sleeves. His eyeshadow seemed darker than usual.

“Yeah?” Virgil asked. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“You alright there buddy?” he asked.

“...Yes? No? I don’t know! Virgil exclaimed, gripping his arms tighter. “I woke up this morning feeling off. Something’s bugging me, and I don’t know what it is.” 

There was a sound, and the two looked over to see Logan in his usual place. The logical side adjusted his glasses before greeting his Host. 

“Salutations Thomas, Virgil.” Logan greeted. “Perhaps I may offer an explanation and a solution to your current problem.”

Virgil looked a bit relieved. “Sure, Teach. I’m all ears.” he said, still gripping his sleeves.

Logan nodded and turned to Thomas. “What Virgil is experiencing is a feeling of restlessness, as his fight or flight mode is being activated.” he explained. His Host looked confused.

“Why would his fight or flight mode be activated? It’s my day off. I’m literally doing nothing.” Thomas questioned, gesturing to the blanket and computer on the couch. Logan cleared his throat and fixed his glasses.

“Well, there’s a good explanation for that.” Logan said. “These past couple weeks have been stressful for you, haven’t they?”

“Yes?”

“Constantly in and out of the house, going to work, keeping up with a healthy social life, planning new videos?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. My stress levels were so high.”

“I was working overtime.” Virgil piped up.

Logan nodded at him before continuing. “Because of all these activities going on for a long period of time, your body has already been conditioned to have the fight or flight response on, as Virgil has been making sure you’re on your toes at all times.” Logan explained. “Now you want to relax, but the sudden shift from high stress to the mundane causes Virgil,” He paused to look at said side, “to be confused, as he is your anxiety. There’s too much adrenaline in your body, and has no place to go. Thus, the feeling of restlessness.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” he said. “So your solution to this?” he asked, gesturing to his body. 

Logan flashed him a quick smirk. “I’m glad you asked.” he said. “Exercise has been suggested to help with feelings of restlessness, so I suggest going out and taking a walk in the park, because there is no way I’m going to let Thomas watch The Office for the nth time.” The two Sides ignored their Host’s noise of protest. 

“I guess a walk in the park wouldn’t hurt.” Thomas mused. “I have been wanting to have a healthier lifestyle.” 

Virgil sighed, knowing that this was a better option than by watching The Office again. “Sure, why not.” he agreed reluctantly. He really didn’t want to go outside, but the extra adrenaline had to go somewhere. 

Thomas gave a little cheer as he left to go get ready, and both Virgil and Logan returned to the Mindscape. In a rare occurrence, all the other Sides were there waiting for them. Patton looked especially excited.

“We heard everything!” the Moral Side exclaimed, eyes wide. He was holding a large picnic basket. Beside him, Roman carried a large rainbow blanket. “It’s a nice day outside, so why don’t we have a picnic while we’re at it?”  he suggested.

Logan wondered when Patton had the time to make food for a picnic in such a short notice. As he asked, Virgil turned to look at Janus and Remus, who were looking at him amused.

“What?” he asked defensively. They got rid of the labels a long time ago after a long series of talks that may or may not have included some crying, hugs, and a massive sleepover at the end of the day. 

“It’s so like you to agree to not go outside.” Janus answered. Virgil shrugged in response, fidgeting slightly. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Got ants in your pants, emo? I can make it happen literally if you want?” he crowed, wiggling his fingers. Virgil shot him a disgusted look and Janus sighed over Remus’ cackle. 

“It’s not that I want to go outside.” Virgil responded. He had yet to let go of his sleeves. “This feeling I have. I think it’s more than restlessness.” He didn’t know what would happen, but he could sense the danger in the air. Virgil bit his lip when Thomas walked out the door, reminding him to lock it, and checked that he locked it at least three times. Hopefully, his feelings would go away so he would be proven wrong. 

***

When Thomas was asleep after their nice day at the park, his Sides were huddled together in the Mindscape’s living room. It was close to 1:00 in the morning, and there was a tense silence between them as they sat in each other’s presence. 

“Don’t tell me you're still feeling restless, Dark and Stormy!” Roman exclaimed tiredly. Virgil groaned. The restless feeling didn’t go away. 

“I don’t know why I can’t calm down!” he responded, frantic. “We went to the park, we got the adrenaline out, so why can’t I,” Virgil suddenly went rigid, “calm down.” he finished. There it was again. There was danger nearby. Something dangerous was coming closer. 

“What’s not wrong this time?” Janus asked cautiously. Virgil didn’t answer as his mismatched eyes, his right one purple and his left one green, glowed and narrowed. No one spoke or moved as they watched their Anxious Side concentrate. The tension was thick as the others wondered what was going on. Then, the sound of the wiggling door knob echoed throughout the Mindscape. Someone was trying to break into Thomas’ apartment.

The Sides wasted no time. Virgil activated the fight or flight response, jolting Thomas awake. The Host growled angrily, but stopped when Janus waved his hand and silenced his voice. 

“Do try not to be quiet.” he hissed. “There’s someone in your house.” Suddenly the door downstairs was thrown open. “Slowly now, hide in your closet.” Thomas nodded frantically and obeyed. 

Once Thomas was safely in his closet, the Sides crept downstairs to observe. They saw a large shadowy figure walking throughout the first floor. It was opening the cabinets and drawers as if it was looking for something. They heard the figure talking to someone.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” the voice growled. It was male, deep, and dark. There was another muffled voice. An accomplice perhaps? Were they talking over an earpiece? “A Manifestor lives in this shabby place? Doubt it.” the man scoffed. 

The Sides returned to the Mindscape in anger. How dare someone break into their Hosts’ house! But no one was feeling as angry as Virgil, who grit his teeth in anger. He was the one who had to protect Thomas from things like this! If only he was more careful…

“We need a plan.” Logan said, snapping Virgil out of his musings. The Logical Side had a glare on his face as he looked at everyone. “Clearly this intruder is looking for something of Thomas’.” 

“He called Thomas ‘Manifestor.’” Patton whimpered. “What does that mean?” No one wanted to admit it, but they had a strong feeling they knew what the man was talking about. And they didn’t like it. They wanted answers, and they wanted them now. 

Virgil smirked. “I have a plan.” he purred. The Sides shivered at the sight of their Anxious Side. His smile was all teeth and dangerous, fangs out and dripping with venom. “A beautiful, bloody, plan.” 

***

Thomas grunted in pain as he was forcefully tied to the chair. He was found out, dragged from his hiding place, kicking and screaming all the way.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” he growled. The man didn’t grace him with an answer. Instead he took out what looked like a recorder and pressed a button.

“This is recording #1678. My name is Dr. Sawyer. Now, please tell me your name?” the man said. 

Thomas growled. Dr. Sawyer continued with disinterest. 

“Subject is highly aggressive. Will proceed with caution.” he said and continued to ask questions. Thomas answered every single with one with a growl or a curse. Finally, after hours, the doctor became impatient. “Listen kid,” he sighed, “you’re in a dangerous situation. Follow my orders and answer my questions, or else.” 

Thomas’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Or else what?” he asked slowly. The doctor raised an eyebrow, as if to question whether or not Thomas was stupid enough to talk back. 

“Or else I’ll have to resort to extreme measures for your answers.” the doctor responded stoically. “Don’t mess with me.” He turned around, presumably to retrieve a weapon or something to force his captive to answer. 

Thomas glowered at him. He felt a strange tingling sensation, comfortable and familiar, and smirked.  “No.” Thomas whispered, eyes harsh. “You don’t want to mess with me.” 

Then suddenly, the world went dark. Dr. Sawyer jumped back in surprise and looked around wildly. He couldn’t see anything, just the cold black, like an abyss. “Who’s there? What’s going on?” Dr. Sawyer called out into the darkness. His voice echoed. He saw his subject standing there in the distance, arms crossed and his back turned. Dr. Sawyer approached him. 

“Excuse me?” he called loudly. He reached his hand out to grab his subject’s attention, but fell on his back with a loud thud when he felt a shock run through his body. Dr. Sawyer screamed in pain and clutched his hand. Looking up, he went to get up and yell at his subject, but paused.

He was held at sword point, the tip pointed close to his throat, by his subject. Or was it? The figure wore a white regal outfit with a red sash. Its eyes glowed a bright, angry red. “Get up.” it demanded. Dr. Sawyer slowly complied. 

“I demand to know what is going on!” he shouted. The figure didn’t grace the doctor with an answer. Rather it disappeared, along with his subject, right before his eyes. The black floor was engulfed in a dark mist. Dr. Sawyer tried to catch up to it, but found he couldn’t walk. He struggled to move his legs when he felt something grip on them. Looking down, he saw green tentacles curling up his legs. He screamed as the tentacles pulled him through the floor. He fell for a couple minutes as he struggled to grip onto something until he collided with the floor again.

He got up again, groaning. He heard the footsteps first, and then the green tentacles came back and wrapped around his body, lifting him up from the ground upside down, leaving only his head visible. Dr. Sawyer gasped in shock when he saw another figure, this one dressed in black with a green sash and holding a morning start threateningly, smiling creepily at him, eyes glowing a toxic green.

“Welcome, Fucker!” the green figure greeted with a slight bow. He raised the morning star. “Now please don’t move!” With that the green figure swung, and kept on swinging. Dr. Sawyer felt blow after blow from the morning star. He can feel the blood pouring out his head and the shortness of his breath. He could feel his lip break open and his bones crack from the hits and from the tight squeezes of the tentacles. The green figure cackled with glee as it continued hitting the doctor. 

At last, the green figure stopped. The green tentacles let go of the doctor, and he fell to the ground unceremoniously. He heard the snap of fingers and felt his bones set themselves, but his bleeding didn’t stop. He lay there, eyes closed and gasping for breath. 

Moments later, he stood up. Opening his eyes, he saw a blurry figure dressed in dark blue with glowing dark blue eyes hidden behind glasses. The figure nodded in greeting. “Salutations.” it said. Dr. Sawyer snarled and swiped at the figure. It sighed, as if it expected him to do that. “I apologize in advance.” the figure stated and with a snap of its fingers, held a gun in front of the doctor. The doctor heard a click and the figure said, “Run.” He did just that, turning sharply on his heel and running far away from the dark blue figure just as he heard the loud bang of the gun. He ran with short pants, eyes blown wide, looking back to see if the dark blue figure was following. He couldn’t see it, but he could still hear the loud shots. 

What he saw so far was absolute madness. Unfortunately, he didn’t look where he was going, and became… stuck? Dr. Sawyer found himself unable to remove himself from the sticky substance.  With wide eyes, he noticed that he was trapped in a spider’s web. An unpleasant shiver shot down his back. He could feel the web shake. Something big was coming closer, and closer. Dr. Sawyer couldn’t help but feel fear.

“How nice of you to drop by.” a low voice said. Dr. Sawyer couldn’t look up, but from his line of vision, he could see a deep, dark purple spider leg close to his face. Then, he could hear a faint hissing sound. He could feel something crawling on him, and the sensations sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. What was... ? And then it clicked. Spiders. Hundreds of spiders were crawling on him. He struggled to move, to kick the spiders away, but he couldn’t. The spiders crawled and crawled, covering his body. They moved to his face, their legs covering his eyes. Dr. Sawyer could feel his heart leap out of his chest, his vision blurring, his breathing ragged as he felt spiders crawl down his face and into his mouth. And he screamed. 

When Dr. Sawyer woke up, he was no longer in the spider web or in the dark room. Instead, he could see all white, and he was strapped to a chair. In front of him were two more figures. One was wearing yellow and black, the other wore light blue and gray. The yellow figure spoke first.

“Good night.” the yellow figure said. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” the light blue figure asked kindly. Dr. Sawyer groaned in agony. 

“Who did not send you here?” the yellow figure asked harshly. Dr. Sawyer didn’t answer, too angry and too confused at his situation. Instead, he spat in the figures’ direction, causing them to recoil slightly.

“How kind.” the yellow figure spat back. His eyes glowed a poisonous yellow. The light blue figure looked at the doctor disappointedly. 

“I’m so sorry for this.” it said solemnly, and their forms began to morph, growing taller in size. They morphed into a large green frog with muscular arms and legs and a large yellow snake, large fangs poised and ready to strike. They loomed over their captive, who was shaking despite his exhaustion. In front of them were the rest of the figures. The red and green figures had their weapons out -was that his blood on the morning star?- pointed at him threateningly. The dark blue figure held its gun steadily. There was a purple figure standing there, too, with its eight dark purple spider legs coming out of its back. And protected by all of them, was his subject. 

“I told you.” his subject said with tired yet proud eyes. “I told you not to mess with me.”

The large yellow snake hissed, grabbing the attention on Dr. Sawyer. The doctor looked into the snake’s glowing, yellow eyes, swirling with flashes of purple and green, and slowly, lost sensation in his entire body. He slumped forward in his chair, and closed his eyes. 

To Be Continued

Taglist: 

@bluebandedagate

(Anybody else? Just let me know :D)

[nowhereclosetoit]

Pippa and Theo’s Relationship in “The Goldfinch”

(Or: Why Theo believes he’s in love with Pippa when he’s not)

I really enjoyed writing my last shitshow of an essay so now here’s another overly long essay on Theo and His Issues in “The Goldfinch”.

It’s 3,000 words so...good luck!

Pippa and Theo have a close bond, there’s no doubt about that, however, Theo misconstrues this bond in his head. He ends up perceiving the bond he shares with Pippa, on his end at least, for that of romantic love. Interestingly enough, this is not the case – Theo is not in love with Pippa, despite his belief, and Pippa herself understands this too.

One reason as to why Theo may be mistaking their close relationship (even though it’s never that close really) for romantic love is because of the similarities in each of their childhoods. There are many parallels that can be drawn between each of their childhoods, ranging from the death of a parent or guardian to their shared traumatic experience of the museum bombing.

Pippa’s mother, like Theo’s, is dead, as well as her legal guardian Welty (her uncle), who died in the museum bombing - Already they have some common ground through this which is the only established knowledge they have of each other on their first interaction in Hobie’s flat.

Pippa also stays with an adult (Hobie) who genuinely tries his best to take care of her until, right when things start looking up, another, estranged family member shows up to take her away from New York (Her Aunt Margaret who subsequently takes Pippa to Texas, then sending her to the school in Switzerland for “troubled girls”). This reflects the way that Theo was taken away from the Barbours by his father and Xandra to go and live in Las Vegas.

They are both also physically and/or emotionally abused and scarred from this event:

Theo, through his dad (and Xandra) who neglected him and also physically abused him.

Pippa through her Aunt emotionally manipulating her to make her stay at Institut Mont-Haefeli, and the school themselves for not having her best interests at heart.

In the film, Pippa states whilst at a restaurant after seeing a Glen Gould documentary, that “Welty was only with me that day because I was making him take me to an audition”, depicting her guilt – still as an adult – over the death of her uncle.

Theo makes it clear many times throughout the novel and the film how he feels it was his fault his mother died. (If you want an example check the excerpt above.)

How did they deal with it? Why is this significant in understanding their relationship?

Pippa’s grief manifested itself through her physical injuries which had lifelong lasting effects. Her injuries were extremely severe, reflecting the severity of her grief and guilt. (Hobie in Chapter 4 – Morphine Lollypop: “She’s had a bad crack on the head, a skull fracture, to tell you the truth she was in a coma for a while and her left leg was broken in so many pieces she came near to losing it. ‘Marbles in a sock,’ ” he said, with a mirthless laugh. “That’s what the doctor said when he looked at the x-ray. Twelve breaks. Five surgeries. ”)

Contrastingly, Theo was not as physically affected and internalised everything he felt. This illustrates itself through his lack of eating and sleeping due to his dreams that were plagued with nightmares of the day and his loss of his mother (firstly at the Barbours and also depicted in Vegas) and eventual demise into alcoholism and drug addiction (Vegas + the rest of his life dude’s fuckin popping pills – or crushing the pills then snorting them, I guess).

How Pippa and Theo’s grief manifested itself is significant as it foreshadows the later scenes in the narrative and how they each cope once they’re adults and should no longer be grieving. (I say should no longer be grieving as it’s clear that Theo only really lets go of his grief and guilt once his mother visits him in his dream in Amsterdam after the murder - in the book anyway.) By physically showing her grief to the world – by choice or not – Pippa illustrates a healthier way to deal with grief and negative feelings – getting it out there and receiving help. This also allows us to understand, whilst Pippa also never fully recovers too – See: her crying in the restaurant over the Glen Gould documentary - that she was able to deal with it significantly better than Theo did. She even manages to have a somewhat normal and healthy lifestyle as an adult. As we’ve already discussed, Theo’s grief internalised itself as depicted through his physical injuries/symptoms, or lack thereof. Theo chose, though whether he solely can be fully to blame for this, to internalise his grief and guilt through taking drugs and drinking alcohol. (I personally believe he isn’t fully to blame for ending up addicted to drugs because anybody who cared or was supposed to care about him offered him some form of drug or medication and said it would solve his problems, See: Mrs Barbour – sleeping pills, Xandra and Larry – pills for the plane, Boris – literally any drug they did together over the course of the novel.)

Mini Conclusion (for this part): The ways grief was expressed and dealt/not dealt with by Pippa and Theo explains why they behave the way they do, e.g: Theo internalises everything and never deals with anything fully or properly, Pippa on the other hand is better at reacting to things like an actual person as she was able to deal with her grief and guilt.

Why does Theo believe he is in love with Pippa?

I believe that there are four (4) main reasons as to why Theo mistakes his feelings towards Pippa as romantic love.

1. Pippa is the only remaining link Theo has, bar The Goldfinch, to his mother and before the bombing. He desperately wants to return to before the bombing happened - before his mother was killed. Theo met Pippa only moments before the bombing happened which irrevocably links her to Theo’s “Before: When life was perfect and beautiful” view of his life. This is explored, albeit briefly, in the following excerpts:

With Pippa being depicted in the same way as Theo’s mother, we get the sense that Theo associates her, unconsciously, with his mother, and, consequentially, sees her as a link to his mother, thus feeling no romantic love towards her in anyway.

An example of parallels between Audrey and Pippa is through how both of them had to go and live with an Aunt, with whom they did not have an enjoyable time with, in the South. 

Chapter 4 - Morphine Lollypop: Theo was thinking about “my mother after her parents died and she had to go live with her aunt Bess, + the mention of horses in this excerpt and how "the horses [were] sold”.

2. Theo also links Pippa with helping lessen his grief.

E.g: Soon after he first visits Hobie and Pippa, his appetite starts to return,

Theo relates Pippa to easing his feelings of anxiety:

With Pippa helping Theo ease his grief, whether realised or not, she becomes a caring figure for him, this could relate to a motherly sense of caring – which the novel could suggest so with my previous point, but hey, maybe I’m grasping at straws, idk.

3. Theo’s personality is obsessive and all-consuming which is depicted through literally any relationship he has had with anything and anyone for any considerable amount of time within the novel. 

This is depicted through the obsessive amounts he is able to recount about people and the minute detail in which he does so.

It can also be shown through the act of the years’ worth of letters he wrote to his mother after she died, as well as his relationship with The Goldfinch (obsessed with keeping it as it had a link to his mother and his heart etc).

4. (Again, maybe I’m grasping at straws here) He could be mistaking his love for Pippa as romantic as a result of compulsory heterosexuality (Once again, I’m using compulsory heterosexuality in this case as an LGBTQ+ individual feeling that they have to have romantic feelings/relations to people of the opposite gender/sex, and subconsciously forcing themselves to do so - due to the heteronormative society we live in). This can be found within his romantic relationships with women never fulfilling him and his constant depiction of them as cold (See: Kitsey quotes earlier in essay compared to the way he describes Boris in general) + We all know this motherfucker is queer af, if you don’t believe me check my essay out ;)

In conclusion, I feel like Pippa is able to realise that she is not in love with Theo/differentiate the love they have between them from that of romantic love as she is more aware of her issues and has dealt with them more than Theo has. Pippa managed to remove herself completely from a situation that was causing her pain (New York) and is able to see more clearly from doing so, whereas Theo didn’t. Theo was unable to remove himself mentally or physically and is stuck in the perpetual grief he feels for his mother’s death. The only time we get some sense of closure and complete removal of grief from Theo is after Amsterdam. (In the book this is after the dream he has where he can finally face his mother, and in the film, this is once Boris tells him that “[his] bird is back in the world”). Due to Theo being unable to fully receive any sort of ability to even attempt solving his problems, his judgment is clouded and he believes he is in love with Pippa.

[mercurymetals]

p. control

I’m sorry to say that my horny tendencies are slowly but surely getting out of control. This is sfw, but uh. Heed the warnings, pals.

Warnings: Forced pet play. Brief suicidal ideation. Mention of having a panic attack.

Giorno & “Be good for me baby. We wouldn’t want to see those tears again.”

You take your time putting on the blouse. You know better than to delay too long, but you like to draw the process out as much as you dare, appreciating every second you have alone like it may be your last. You never know: maybe eventually, you won't be granted even these brief moments to yourself.

The blouse is a perfect fit. It hugs your figure just right, a small V-cut exposing the flesh just beneath your collarbones, but no lower. The expensive material - probably Gucci - rests delicately around your shoulders, and you hate the silky slide of it against your bare skin.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror of the bathroom, taking yourself in. Your entire outfit screams extravagance, but it's simultaneously subtle and classy, the colours matched just right to contrast your skin and bring out your eyes. Your hair glows with a healthy shine you have never been able to achieve on your own, and the hints of pink on your cheeks add a dash of charm to the whole aesthetic.

You look good. It's not a shock - he's always made sure you look good, presentable, ever since he's gotten his hands on you.

Unable to appreciate it one way or another, you tear your eyes away from the mirror and turn towards the door. You take a few deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable, trying to still your rushing pulse, to quiet your own unwillingness to do this.

You put your hand on the door knob, and keep still. There's not a sound in the bathroom, only a strangely vast kind of silence. The white tiles on every wall both encapsulate and distance you from everything.

It's an odd thought, but being here is almost comforting, because it's the only place left where you get any kind of privacy, short lived though it may be. You wish you could stay right here, fill that enormous bathtub full of water and dive under, never to emerge again.

But you've been here long enough, and you know you're pushing it. So, with one last inhale of the moisturised air, you push open the door and step out.

Giorno is waiting for you by the bed, and when you first appear, he's frowning. But so soon as his eyes take in your appearance, his expression mellows, and then he smiles. "Amore. How beautiful you look."

You stand in the middle of the bedroom, avoiding looking at him. You should be used to having eyes rake over you these days, but his always seem to reach a little deeper, look right into your core no matter how many layers of pretty clothing he puts you in, and you don't like that feeling.

In the corner of your eye, you see Giorno grab something before he approaches you. You know well what it is even without looking.

He stands in front of you, and you keep your head titled sideways, staring instead at the desk on the other side of the room. It's tiny compared to the one in Giorno's office, but he likes to have somewhere to work during the late evenings, when he's going through the last few bits of paperwork before getting ready for bed.

You almost smile at the thought. How ridiculous, how infuriating, that you know this little detail about him, as if he's your lover, as if he's someone you might value in your life. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"Amore. Look at me."

You slowly face forward, and look into his eyes. A gaze of deep blue-green looks back at you, rimmed with long eyelashes darkened by his high-brand mascara. You think you see a hint of glittery gold eyeshadow on his lids.

"Good... Very good..." Giorno murmurs, holding your gaze while you feel both his hands reach out for you. "Now, lift your head... Yes..."

You do as he says, and then you feel that velvety constriction wrap snugly around your throat. The material is soft, but it stays firmly in place, pressing into your trachea just enough for your breath to hitch momentarily as you get used to the sensation. Giorno's fingers clasp the collar closed with expert ease, and then his hands move to rest on your shoulders as he admires you.

Just by the weight of it around your neck, you can tell which one it is. Giorno has a small collection of collars like these, custom-made and picked out especially for you. All of them are generously lavish, Giorno having spent no small fortune on them by now.

But the one you've been adorned with tonight is one of his favourites. It's relatively simple compared to some of the other ones: about an inch wide, inky black, and studded with real gold all along the top and bottom edges. It's heavy, but the plush lining makes it incredibly soft to the touch, and it never leaves unpleasant marks behind, even if you've been wearing it for hours. The matching leash, made of dark leather, has already been attached at the centre.

Giorno's eyes shine with a lascivious thrill, and you know he's enjoying every second of this. In a rare moment of self-indulgence, he can't seem to resist leaning down and placing an adoring kiss on your lips. "Bellissimo," he whispers, kissing you one more time for good measure before stepping away.

As he does so, his hand catches the leash, and he twirls the handle around his fingers as he smiles at you. "Let us go. We have a big meeting this evening."

That explains his choice for the night. As much as Giorno loves adorning you with pretty things for his own satisfaction, you know there's another big reason he does all of this: to show you off. Like an exotic pet he's made his possession, Giorno enjoys having you on a leash and collar for all to see, friends and enemies alike. The exquisite outfits he picks out for you invite others to admire you, but never to look in too closely - that's reserved only for him, and he wants everyone to know that.

But as he walks towards the door, you don't move, and the leash pulls taut between the two of you. Giorno stops and looks over his shoulder at you, but by this point you're frozen in your spot.

You don't know why you didn't go. Nothing about this evening has been unusual from the routine. And yet, something has stirred inside of you, some infantile desire to resist, to remind him that you don't want any part in this, that he's been forcing this lifestyle on you and you hate it enough to think about drowning yourself in his fucking bathtub.

Giorno doesn't pull you along. He does the opposite: he turns on his heel and walks back up to you, and he's not even done anything yet but you already regret your stupid, stupid broken heart for still trying to put up a fight.

With one hand still holding the handle, his other runs across the length of the leash, until his fingers are wrapped right at the base of it, underneath your chin. Then he tugs you closer, and you stagger with a high-pitched cry at the back of your throat, until you're pressed right against him. He forces your chin up with his thumb, and you meet his eyes hesitantly.

He doesn't look angry. At least, not in the way anyone else might. But you know Giorno, and you don't need to read his expression to understand on an intimate level that you made a mistake.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Giorno asks, and you feel the collar pushing harder against your throat from his tight hold on you. "Perhaps I should cancel the meeting, and you can tell me all about your complaints in detail?"

The tone of voice he's using is gentle, but your practised ears recognise the threat in it. You only hear him speak like that in certain circumstances, and your body responds automatically, your breath fastening and anxiety prickling along your veins. Without realising it, you try to shrink away from him, but his grip on the leash doesn't allow it.

Giorno is close enough that you feel his round bangs brush against your forehead. Holding your gaze, he says in that soft, measured tone of voice: "Be good for me, gattino. You do remember what happened the last time you misbehaved, don't you? We wouldn’t want to see those tears again, now would we?"

Panic sweeps over you and you whimper as his words inevitably cause you to remember exactly what happened on that night. Phantom pain rises all along your body like goose bumps, and your heart pounds as hard as though it's trying to free itself from your chest and leave you to deal with Giorno's punishments all on your own.

Giorno sees the state you're in, and he smiles. "Answer me, gattino. Would you like for us to stay home tonight?"

You shake your head, but that won't be enough. Fighting back the sobs rising in your throat, you whisper: "No." Giorno raises his eyebrows, and you force yourself to continue, your words hiccuped by desperate gasps. "P-please take me along with you, Sir. I-- I'll be good."

It's as easy as that. Giorno's hand falls away from the base of your collar, and in turn your gaze falls down to stare at the ground, grateful you don't have to look into those tenderly cruel eyes any more.

"Good. Now, I want you to collect yourself by the time we arrive. We will not have anyone see you like this," Giorno says, already turning away from you as he glances at the clock hanging on one of the bedroom walls. "Come."

This time, you nearly trip over your feet in your hurry to keep up with him. You want to prove to him that you meant it: you will be good for him. Because otherwise, he's going to do something much worse than put a collar around your neck.

He opens the door, but before stepping out, he casts one more look at you. You look back at him with anticipation, ready to do anything he might ask of you.

But Giorno doesn't have any orders for you. Instead, he eyes you up. Eyes the entire length of your body, from your shiny leather Testoni slip-ons, all the way up to your worriedly arched eyebrows. You feel again the way his gaze pierces through your entire being as if you were made of water.

You wait nervously until you finally hear him say: "We're going to have a talk about this when we get back."

Giorno had told you to collect yourself, but during the car ride to your destination all you do is sit there and hyperventilate, your panic attack rendering you oblivious to the outside world. In the end, the only thing that manages to bring you back from the brink is the thought of how much worse it's going to be for you if you disobey a direct command from Giorno.

By the time you two arrive, you've numbed yourself to every thought and sensation, and you meekly follow Giorno out of the car, keeping your head lowered. At least while out here, you are safe. Giorno won't punish you publicly, because that's one of those things he likes to keep as only his to see. And nobody else will dare to approach you, or touch you, or disturb you in any way with him next to you. Out here, nobody will dare do anything to you. You find that thought reassuring.

There's nothing in the world that can save you from what awaits you the next time you step into the bedroom you share with Giorno. But for right now, you can close your eyes and find comfort in existing as nothing but his obedient little pet, ready to show your submission to him in front of all those watching eyes.

[celtics534]

We’ll be the Proud Remainers

So... after that last chapter, I figured I should post this one a little early. 

Also Read On: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry dug his small spade into the dirt, trying to coax the potatoes out of the Earth. All the while he kept one eye on the horizon. The sky darkened to an ominous blue and black combo. A storm was coming. The question was, how long did Harry have to finish gathering materials for that night's dinner?

  He'd guess an hour, tops. After living in the same spot for the past seven years, Harry had become accustomed to the tricks and traits of the land. Weather prediction had become a useful and vital skill. 

  Seven years. It still sometimes felt unreal. He and Ginny had arrived at Bill's simple home with nothing but a few things on their backs. Now, they lived with Ginny's brother in a relatively simple lifestyle. Gardening, cooking, and maintaining the defenses were some of Harry's most important duties.

  Well... those and --

"Harry!" Victoire's girlish laugh pulled Harry's attention away from his work. The little girl was running straight for him, her grin showing a few gaps in her pearly white baby teeth. "Harry, Ginny's gonna get me."

  Victoire was right -- or she would have been if Ginny had truly been trying to catch her. As it was, Ginny was following behind the girl at a light jog, arms outstretched, wiggling her fingers as if casting some sort of witch’s spell. 

  "There is nowhere you can hide." Ginny was mimicking the stereotypical evil witch's tone. "I will find you, my pretty!"

  Vic let out a high pitched scream as she ran through the garden's gate. She ran around Harry, circling so that she hid behind his legs. Her little fingers stretched the dark denim. "Don't let her get me!"

  Ginny stopped in front of Harry, her wicked smile spreading from ear to ear. "Sir, I'm looking for a girl. She's about this height" --Ginny lowered her hand to Victoire's height-- "and cute as a button. Have you seen her?"

  "Cute as a button you say?" Harry tapped a finger on his chin in mock consideration. Vic's grip tightened. "Can't say I have. Now if you'd said pretty as a flower, I may have known something, but alas!" He  shrugged. "Clearly not the same person." 

  "Hmm." Ginny slid a hand over Harry's arm, trailing it up towards his shoulder. "Could I convince you to pass along your intel of this pretty person? Maybe the knowledge will lead me to my victim -- I mean -- friend ."

  "I don't know, I'd hate to betray this person. What do you have to offer in trade?"

  "I think you can find me quite -- persuasive to the right person." Ginny moved her body closer, her fingers now playing the little hairs on the back of his head. 

  "I think I may be the right person." 

  Right as Harry's lips met Ginny's, a long revolted cry came from behind him. 

  Victoire pulled away from Harry's legs, her lips curled in disgust. "Ew! Why do you two always end up kissing?"

  "Because they're icky, that's why." Bill walked down the cottage stairs, a playful smile on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come on, Vic. Let's leave those two to finish collecting potatoes for tonight's dinner." 

  Victoire ran into her father's open arms. She hugged him tight as he lifted her in his arms. Bill ladened the girl's cheeks with kisses as she giggled. 

  Harry smiled as he watched the father and daughter duo turn back into the house. "They're adorable." Harry hadn't planned on saying that out loud, but it escaped his lips without permission. 

  He looked down at Ginny and couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if she was holding his baby. Watching her kiss their baby's chubby cheeks and see his or her gummy smile. 

  No ! Harry couldn't let himself picture that! It would just get his hopes up for things that could never happen. They could never have a baby, no matter how many times Harry's dreams imagined it. He could never bring an innocent child into such a horrible world. Harry could never forgive himself if something were to happen to his child or Ginny... like what happened to Fleur. 

  Even after all this time, Bill was still understandably shaken by the loss of his wife. Harry refused to let his mind drift to the possibility of losing Ginny. Which was why he would never risk her life having a child. 

  There had been a few times over the years where protection had been forgotten, which had led to weeks of uneasily waiting for Ginny's monthly. 

  Though anxiety drove him for those weeks, there had always been that base desire for a child of his own. So rather than dread and dream about a future he couldn't obtain, Harry focused on raising Victoire. She was just as good as his own child, her being his goddaughter and all. 

  "Harry?" Ginny kissed his lips lightly. "Come back to me, love."

  "Sorry." Harry forced his mind to think happier thoughts. He smiled. "You wanna help grab some carrots for the stew?" He made to move out of her embrace, but Ginny kept her arms around his neck. 

  " Or... " That wicked smile came back onto her lips, this time with a different connotation. "We could head over to that empty house next door for a bit."

  Harry looked over Ginny's shoulder at the still dark and foreboding sky. There really was a storm on the way... 

  Ginny trailed her lips down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone. Her words coming between kisses. "Am - I - being - persuasive - enough?"

  He couldn't contain the little groan that rose from his throat. " Yes ."

  "Yes to which question?" Ginny asked as she continued to torment him. 

  "Both."

  Ginny drew back, making Harry bemoan the loss of her attention . She ran her hand down from his neck to his shoulder, along his arm, before lacing their fingers together. "Perfect. I'm glad my talents weren't exaggerated."

  She pulled them out of the fenced garden, towards the neighbors. Harry stayed close, letting her warmth keep him safe from the chill of the impending storm. 

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  "Aunt Ginny?" Victoire's sleepy voice made Ginny turn around. The little girl was still tucked up under her blanket. Comforter to chin and Alfred the bunny’s ear sticking slightly out from under the covers he wouldn't get cold.

  "Yes, luv?" Ginny moved back into the room, her hand gently brushing the blonde locks from Vic's face. 

  "Why didn't their mummy stay with them in that story?" Her eyes didn't quite meet Ginny's as her voice softened. "Did she not want them?"

  Ginny had to think about the question for a second. She glanced over at the book they had been reading before bed. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe had a piece of yellowed paper stuck marking their place. When she had selected the book, Ginny figured the little girl would focus on the amazing fantasy, not...

  "Oh, no, Vic." Ginny's free hand came up to rub the back of her neck,a skill she'd picked up from Harry. "She wanted them very much. She loved them so much, but she had to send them away to protect them."

  "So she had to leave them because she loved them?" Victoire's child mind couldn’t quite understand all the logistics. "Is that why my mummy left me?"

  No. No. Nope. 

  Ginny did not want to be having this conversation right now. Fuck, she never wanted to have this conversation. They had told Victoire about Fleur. They'd explained how beautiful Fleur had been and how much she'd loved Victoire. But they never really explained how Fleur had died. 

  It was natural for Victoire to draw conclusions based on the stories they read, but Ginny never expected this. 

  "Well, yes she loved you so much." Ginny sat on the edge of the mattress, “and all she wanted was for you to be happy and healthy." She drew a deep breath. "Sometimes in order to protect the people we love, we have to make sacrifices."

  Victoire blinked at her with those ocean blue eyes. "But doesn't that make you sad to sac --" she started stuttering over the word. "Sacri... sacr..."

  "Yes, it can make you sad to make a sacrifice." Ginny kissed Vic's forehead. "But sometimes the happiness of others is more important. But what is important right now is you going to sleep." She rose from her spot on the bed, with a final kiss to the girl's forehead. "Goodnight, love."

  Ginny moved out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Her mind was racing. Never had she thought Victoire would ask questions like that. It was heartbreaking to think Fleur never got to tell her daughter just how much she loved her. 

  Without conscious thought, Ginny's feet took her right where she needed to be. Harry sat in their bed, a candle lighting the room so he could read his novel, his legs covered by their duvet. 

  He looked up at the sound of her shuffling feet. His glasses were slightly crooked, which he took a second to correct. "Hey." He took one look at her and placed his book aside. "What's wrong?"

  Ginny's throat seemed to close as she tried to explain what had just happened. She stood stock-still for a moment, trying to force the words out of her mouth. When they didn't come, she moved. Ginny went right for the spot that she felt safest, where everything horrible in the world couldn't get her: Harry's arms.

  Harry didn't ask any more questions. He just held her close, pulling the blanket so it wrapped around her. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “No peeking, Aunt Ginny,” Victorie called over her shoulder as she ran into the woods. Hide-and-seek had become one of the seven-year-old’s favorite pastimes, which in turn meant it became one of Ginny’s daily activities. The little girl couldn’t get enough of the simple game. Some days, like today,  Bill and Harry would join.

  "You heard the master, Ginny." Bill smiled at his sister as he followed his daughter. 

  Harry smiled at her, moving in close. His fingers toyed with the belt loops of her denims. "You know I was thinking, maybe we could play a round of private hide and seek later." He bent down to kiss her. "I guarantee I'll find your secret spot."  

  Ginny laughed, letting her lips linger on his for an extra second before pushing him away. "Well, let's test your skills here. "

  "See the problem is -- I want you to find me ." 

  "This is a test of your longevity , love." She looked him up and down, a coy smile playing on her lips. "I want to see how long you can last."

  "Baby, I can last all night."

  Ginny snorted. "Did you just call me baby?" 

  Harry gave a nonchalant shrug. "Figured I'd give it a shot. Didn't feel right."

  She shook her head. " Definitely not right."

  "I'll stick with darling ." Harry kissed her one final time before disappearing into the forest. 

  Ginny sat down on the porch stoop before covering her face with her hands. Her eyes closed naturally from being already bathed in darkness of her hands.  

  One. Two. Three. 

  She kept a beat between each number to give Victorie ample time to find the perfect spot. Though enthusiastic, the girl wasn't great at finding spots. 

  Twenty. Twenty-one.

  If Ginny had to place bets, Vic would be in the little cove, Bill behind the tree next to the cove, and Harry would be up in one of the high branches. 

  "Thirty. Ready or not here I come!" Ginny shouted as loudly as she could before rising from her perch. She entered the thicket of trees the others had disappeared into, her mind debating who to focus on first. 

  Vic would be easy to find, but being found first would ruin the girl's fun. That meant Harry was her first target. She kept her steps light as she walked across the hard forest ground. She took the left fork instead of her normal right. If she could manage to sneak up on Harry, it would be even better. Typically he would watch her from his perch, laughing quietly as she walked right under him. This time she wouldn't fall for his tricks. 

  She kept her eyes to the sky, focusing on any large shadow. It wasn't until she was quite a few meters into the forest that she saw his dangling foot. Her eyes scanned up his leg, then to his torso. Harry's back was to her as he watched her normal route. 

  Ginny grinned. Watching the ground for any possible noise-makers, she slowly made her way to his hiding spot. She waited until she was directly under him to give his trouser leg a sharp tug. 

  Everything happened at once. Harry let out a sharp gasp as his body leaned towards her pull. He fell sideways off his branch, landing on the ground with a loud thud. 

  “Shit!” Ginny crouched, helping him sit up. Her hands covered his body checking for broken bones. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you -” 

  Her panicked apology was cut off by his laughter. Harry brushed off her scrutinizing hands as he rose to his feet. “You certainly found me.” 

  Ginny shook her head, her raising heart rate starting to slow. “Well, you never seem to change your hiding spot. Always up in a tree.”

  “But it’s a different tree,” Harry defended, his hands brushing off dirt from his knees. “Wait.” He held one hand in a stop motion. “Are you saying I’ve lost my touch?” 

  “I mean --” Ginny let her words fall off with a well if the shoe fits shrug. 

  Harry stared at her for a solid ten seconds before moving with the speed of a hungry lion. His arms came around her, lifting her feet from the ground. Ginny let out a squeal of surprise before she wrapped her legs around his waist. Harry proceeded to push her against the trunk of a large oak. 

  His lips pressed to hers in a hard kiss. It didn’t take long for Ginny to get over her initial shock. She laced her arms across the back of his neck, returning his attention with enthusiasm. 

  Ginny lost track of time as she and Harry focused all their senses on each other. She wasn’t sure who made the first move to remove clothing, but the next thing she knew her button-up blouse was open, letting in a cool breeze. 

Harry’s lips wandered away from hers, down to her neck, down to her chest. Ginny arched against him as his attention focused on her breasts. 

  “Where is Aunt Ginny?” Victoire's loud voice only slightly broke through the fog Harry had created. It wasn’t until Bill’s deep tone followed that Ginny remembered what they were supposed to be doing. 

  “I’m guessing she’s finishing finding Uncle Harry. How about we head to the house and start making lunch? It will be the best hiding spot ever. She’ll never think to look there.”

  Victoire's response was muffled as they moved back towards the house. Harry’s eyes met hers, the usual green much darker . 

  “Did Bill just give us an excuse to be alone for longer?” Harry starting trailed his lips up her neck. “Because that’s what I heard.” 

  “You always seem to hear what you want to, even if it’s the opposite of what someone said.” Ginny smiled as his lips pressed to hers.

  “It’s another skill of mine.”

  “Another? What are some of the others?”

  “How about this?” Harry’s lips slid off hers and trailed down her bare skin back to her chest. 

  Ginny let out a breathy sigh. “A man of many talents.” 

  “And I’ll be more than happy to bestow you with said skills anytime you want." 

  "Is that so?" Ginny ran her fingers along the nape of his neck. "Well, I can't pass on such an educational offer. There is a lovely treehouse not too far from here. The perfect spot to display your expertise."

  Harry lowered her slowly to the ground. Ginny felt every hard muscle as she skimmed down his body. His hand slid into hers, lacing their fingers. "It will be a pleasure , for both of us."  

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Harry watched Ginny show Victoire how to hold one of their chickens on their farm. Seeing Ginny and Vic smile so brightly made his heart full. His family . Something he had never had, but always wanted. It was strange to think how he’d gained a family while most people lost theirs. 

  "That looks good." Bill's voice drew Harry's eyes back to the dinner he was preparing: roast chicken and vegetables from the garden. 

  "I hope it will be." Harry wiped his hands on the flannel next to the cutting board. "I grew some basil and I think it should add a little something to the chicken." 

  "Anything I can do to help?"

  Harry shook his head. "No, not really. I just finished cutting everything up. All that's left is letting the fire cook it all up."

  "Good. Good." Bill shuffled his feet slightly. "Harry?"

  "Hm?" 

  "I wanted to thank you."

  Harry turned to look at the older man. He had an emotional look to his dark blue eyes. "For what?" Harry was afraid Bill might start crying. 

  Bill cleared his throat. "For being there -- for me and Vic. And Ginny."

  "Oh." Harry felt his face heat. He’d never have expected Bill want to talk about... something like this. "Of course. I care about all of you."

  "I know. It's just... it would have been so much harder to raise Victoire without you and Ginny. After Fleur." Bill choked up for a moment before clearing his throat again. "Thank you."

  Harry rubbed the back of his neck. This was not his forte. He wasn't good at talking about things like this, as Ginny’d pointed out a million times. But another thing Ginny had told him was that a lot of people liked hearing how he felt about a situation. He took a deep breath. Fuck it . 

  "Without you and Vic... I don't honestly know what would have happened to me and Gin. London was a shit show. Being out here..." Harry glanced back at the girls. "It's so simple and perfect. Even after all this time, it still feels like a dream."

  Bill moved closer to the window. "I know what you mean. Out here... it's the middle of nowhere and no one bugs us. It's safer than anywhere else out there." Harry saw a small smile form on Bill's lips. "This is the kind of life I would have wanted for Victoire. A simple life where everyone around her loves her." 

  Harry smiled as Ginny threw the chicken up into the air. Victoire loved watching the bird flap wildly back to the ground. "Yeah, she deserves it." 

  Bill thumped Harry on the back. "You and Gin deserve it, too. I don't think I've ever said it, but you two are good for each other." 

  "It only took you five years to say it out loud." Harry turned to Bill, meeting his gaze. "Thank you."

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Ginny stared at Harry. "You mean to tell me you set this whole thing up so you could take me for a romantic picnic by the water?" 

  Harry grinned at her. He was rather proud of this one. "That's right. It wasn't too hard to convince Victoire that a beach day would be fun."

  It really hadn't been difficult to get the family to travel to the seaside. He had spent the last few days chatting to Victoire how much fun building sandcastles and running through the waves would be. Two days later, Bill had his daughter attached to his leg, begging to go to the beach. In Harry's mind, it was a win-win: Vic was getting to play in the water and Harry would be getting to play with Ginny. So the small family loaded up into the beat up old Range Rover they kept for far trips. It was only an hour long car ride, so naturally Vic spent the whole time cheering loudly about all the fun things she was gonna do. 

  Really, the only tricky step had been setting up the blanket and food without Ginny noticing. He had found a tall group of dunes and used them like a wall. While Ginny buried Victoire in the sand, Harry had assembled his surprise. 

  He had packed all of Ginny's favorites, well, at least the favorites that he’d been able to find over the past few weeks. Yes ...he had been working on this for longer than those few days of whispering into Victoire's ear about the surprise.  

  "What's the occasion?" Ginny asked as she took a seat on the blanket. 

  "Does there need to be one?" Harry asked. "A glass of our finest distilled water, darling." 

  Ginny laughed, her smile wide and bright just like Harry wanted. He handed her a canteen of water before reaching into the rucksack for the chicken legs he'd cooked the previous night in preparation for their lunch. 

  "Well, look at you." Ginny gave him a crooked smile. "You've got everything a girl could ask for. Good food, a comfy spot, a great view ." She winked at him. 

  "It's even better up close." Harry crawled from his side of the blanket, hovering his body over hers. His lips rested a millimeter above hers. "And it gets even better when you touch it." 

  Ginny closed the gap between them, her fingers coming up to tangle in his untidy hair. Harry was more than happy to lose himself in her. The way she felt against him, how her lips pressed to his. 

  If Harry had it his way, this would be the only thing he ever did. After seven years it still was the best thing in the world. 

  "Whatcha doin'?" Victoire's innocent voice brought Harry out of his utopia. 

  He pulled away, only far enough to look up into the big blue eyes of his goddaughter. "Hi, Vic."

  "Hi." Her head was cocked to the side. "Why are you and Aunt Ginny over here snogging?” 

  Ginny pushed Harry from her chest, much to his displeasure. "Hi, luv. Uncle Harry and I were just... enjoying the weather."

  "By kissin'?" Victoire asked, her face scrunched in disgust. 

  "It's how -- uh adults enjoy the weather, yes." Ginny rolled over onto her knees before rising from the blanket. "And now that you're here we can enjoy the sunny day another way." 

  Victoire perked up. "How?"

  "How about --" Ginny paused for dramatic effect, which worked perfectly on Vic. She was shaking like an excited dog. Ginny reached out and tapped the little girl's shoulder. "Tag, you're it!"

  Before Victoire could do more than blink, Ginny was gone. Harry watched her sprint towards the water, her plaited red hair bouncing off her back. 

  "No fair!" Vic yelled after her aunt. When her attention flickered towards Harry, he knew what was coming.

  "Hol --" He tried to stand, but Victoire tagged him on the arm.

  "You're it, Uncle Harry!"

  Harry shook his head as he rose. Vic had taken off towards her father who stood laughing at the edge of the ocean, clearly enjoying that his daughter had broken up the private lunch . Ginny stood fifty meters down the coast from her brother, her smile as bright and beautiful as the sun behind her.  

  The choice was a no brainer. Harry couldn't re-tag Victoire (those were the rules and he refused to be a cheater), so once he was steady on his feet, he took off after Ginny. 

  Ginny's eyes widened as he came at her, full throttle. Her feet stuck in the sand for a moment, and then she started to run. That little bit of difficulty was all Harry needed. He caught up to her after a minute, his hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her back to him. 

  Harry moved his lips right next to her ear. "You're it." 

  "Is that so?" Ginny asked, her face tilted to look at him. 

  " Always ." Harry kissed her once before releasing her and running off towards Bill.  

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  "Good job, Vic!" Ginny cheered as the birthday girl kicked the football across the lawn. Victoire pumped her fist in the air in celebration. It had been the first time all day that she had gotten the ball across the gap between them. 

  A few days before Victoire's birthday, Ginny and Harry had gone in search of an inflated football. It had taken the better part of four hours, but it was worth it. Victoire was having so much fun. Hell, even Ginny was having a blast!   

  "Next time try dribbling it closer to me before passing it!" Ginny told the girl as she bopped the ball back. 

  Victoire nodded enthusiastically. It took a few moments for her to get her footing right, but eventually she moved forward with the ball. 

  Ginny beamed as Victoire pulled her foot back in a hard kick. Instead of just rolling to a stop in front of Ginny like the last time, the ball took flight and came up to Ginny's knee. 

  "Nice!" Bill clapped from his spot on the porch. He had been meaning to fix the crooked step for the last few days, and finally, the weather permitted an opportunity. 

  Victoire looked back at her dad, her whole body wiggling in excitement. "It even went up in the air. Did you see?"

  "I sure did, sweetheart!"

  Ginny waited until Victoire was looking at her before passing the ball back. "Hey, Bill, have you seen Harry?"

  "Last I knew he was checking the traps in the river." 

  "He's really hoping to do a fry up. The number of times he's told me how much he misses fish and --" Ginny's final word was cut short as the air was knocked from her lungs. Victoire had kicked the ball when she wasn't looking, this time getting more air and hitting Ginny in the center of her chest. 

  "Ginny!" Bill dropped his hammer and ran out towards them. Victoire had started crying, noticing Bill's tone and Ginny's pained expression. Ginny waved Bill off with the hand that hadn't come up to clutch at her chest.

  Bill hesitated before turning his attention to his crying daughter. He picked up the sobbing little girl, his large hand running smooth circles along her back. 

  Ginny focused on getting her breath back. Fuck that had hurt. Her chest felt as if it had been hit by a sack of brinks rather than a football. Why the fuck had it hurt so much? 

  She rubbed the spot where the ball had collided, hoping it would soothe some of the pain, like Bill was doing for Victoire. The more she thought about it, Ginny’s chest had hurt all day. This was a different kind of sore, but it had escalated whatever else had been plaguing her throughout the day.  

  Bill walked over, Victoire hiding her face in the collar of his shirt. “You all right, Ginny?” 

  “Yeah.” Ginny placed her hand on Victoire's back. "I'm fine, luv. It just hurt for a moment. I'll be right in a jiffy."

  Victoire half turned out of her father's chest. Tears still trailing down her cheek. "I'm sorry."

  "I know." Ginny took the little girl out of Bill's arms and kissed away the moisture. "How about we go inside and see if Uncle Harry is back?"

  Vic nodded, sniffling a little. Ginny put her down in the grass. "I'll race ya." 

  It took a second for Victoire to understand the challenge, but the moment she did her little feet were moving. Bill smiled at his daughter's back before glancing over at Ginny. "You sure you're okay? You looked in a lot of pain." 

  Ginny nodded, rubbing her chest a few more times before walking towards the back door. "Yeah, I've just been sore all day. Must have slept wrong or something." 

  Bill kept pace with her. "I'm sure that's it. So, do you think Harry did catch something?" 

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Harry leaned against the doorjamb, watching Ginny brush her teeth. They had set up a basin of water for teething brushing. Little Victoire had taken her turn, still running high from being the birthday girl. Bill had taken her up the stairs, hoping that a couple of books would send her to sleep. 

  Ginny spit the homemade toothpaste out of her mouth. “You know I can share, right?” 

  "What if I don't wanna share?" Harry moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed light kisses up her neck. "What if I want you all for myself?"

  "That could be arranged." Ginny put her toothbrush down on the counter and spun in his arms. Her arms circled his neck, fingers threading through his hair. "But you do know it's rather hypocritical of us to tell Victorie she has to share when you won't even --" 

  Harry cut her reprimand off the most effective way he knew. Ginny didn't seem to mind. She arched into him, her lips pressing harder to his. 

  "How about --" Ginny spoke between kisses, "we take -- this upstairs?" 

  Harry didn't think a verbal response was necessary. He lowered his hand slowly down from her waist to her legs. In a fluid motion, he lifted her into his arms. Ginny kept her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried them up the stairs into their room.

  He plopped her onto the bed in an unceremonious gesture, crawling over her and reattaching his lips to her skin.

  "Look at you, the promise of a shag and you become a caveman." Ginny laughed. 

  "You'd become a caveman, too, if you know what it was like to shag you." Harry sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head, before going for the hem of hers. Her completely exposed torso teased him as she sucked in a deep breath. His mouth instantly dropped to her bare midriff. He took his time, moving his lips slowly up past her ribs. 

  When he reached her breasts, her breath hitched and she winced. "Harry, wait." 

  He pulled back, his eyes meeting hers. Her face was scrunched in pain. "Gin?"

  "I --" She let out a long exhale. "I took a ball to the chest today and it's a little sore." 

  "I'd say more than a little sore." Harry's eyes dropped back to her chest. "they're swollen." 

  "Swollen?" Ginny sat up, pushing Harry off her. 

  He fell back to his side of the bed. "Yeah. I noticed that -- uh -- they're larger than normal, but I didn't know they hurt. Not that I was staring at your chest or something. It was just an --" 

  Ginny clearly wasn't listening to his ramble. She had moved to the mirror over the dresser, her body turned in a side profile. "Harry, my chest was sore before Vic hit me with the football."

  "Okay." Harry sat up, positioning his pillow behind him so it was between him and headboard. 

  Ginny turned towards him and at that moment Harry knew things were about to become much less simple. "Harry, my breasts are sore, they're larger, and I couldn't stand the smell of your soup a few nights ago."

  Harry nodded, remembering how Ginny had run from the room when he had brought out his chicken soup. "Okay." 

  "Harry." Ginny's tone became one of forced calm used on a child who just wasn’t understanding what was being said. "I think I may be pregnant." 

[ducktracy]

52. young and healthy (1933)

release date: march 4th, 1933

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising

starring: n/a

this has been the first merrie melody in quite awhile not to have the main character posing in the title card! king louis wants to escape his lavish lifestyle and play like a kid again, but the queen demands he focus on the royal ball.

there’s a great opening shot of a painting hung on a wall: a beautiful fountain in front of a set of stairs. we zoom in to see the action taking place on the stairs: some squires trumpeting a fanfare as they descend, some more squires rolling a carpet down the stairs (a little squire losing his balance and spinning between the other two), a wiener dog sweeping the carpet, a man coating the stairs in flower petals, and some knights lumbering their way down, holding a giant crown. the shot of the stairs is great, and dizzying to watch!

finally, the long awaited mystery guest comes into view: this grotesque, insanely amusing caricature of king louis (well, one of em!) lumbering down the stairs. good god, that walk cycle is fantastic! definitely gotta watch it. it’s so full of pompous personality. the crowd cheers him on, but he’s unaffected by it.

he makes his way towards his throne and pops a squat, shooing his guards away with a simple “scram!”. like any other figure of authority, he gets bored and falls asleep in his throne.

look at that queen! i love the character designs in this one. she sings the titular song “young and healthy”—i haven’t found a cast list, but she almost sounds like bernice hansen, the right hand woman for looney tunes voices throughout the mid to late 30s. she’d come into the picture soon though, with buddy’s day out. the man carrying her train also sings a few verses—ironic, since he’s being pushed in a wheelchair.

the king wakes up at the sound of his wife and scoffs. to get some real entertainment, he consults his jimmy durante in a box (can’t say i blame him). he has a hearty laugh—i love his personality! a king who hates to be king—which is cut short as his wife continues to sing.

thus arrives the crux of the situation. the queen asks a group of knights if the king is ready for the royal ball. certainly he is! he’s taking a nap in a throne and laughing at a toy jimmy durante. one by one, the knights whisper “the ball!” in hushed voices. even jimmy durante says “the ball!”, which wakes up the king again as he confines jimmy to his box.

narcolepsy or laziness, the king’s got it as the queen sings to him (but not before yelling “LOOUUUIS!” and kicking him, her tone exactly like that of “SOOEY!” love it!). the king, in turn, sings back “let’s put out the lights and go to sleep”. even jimmy joins in, greeted by a warm slap to the face. he, of course, cries “am i mortified! am i MORTIFIED!”

well, he IS mort (french for “death”). the jimmy in the box dies as a result of blunt force smacking to the face, and we get this fantastic scene of the king sniveling and whining as he sadly lumbers over to the balcony, eventually bursting into sobs. i can’t get enough of this king, that whole sobbing sequence is fantastic! it reminds me a lot of mel blanc (which is, to say, VERY GOOD). the expression, the walk cycle... it’s great.

lucky for the king, his sobbing subsides once he notices a large group of children playing outside. immediately he turns giddy, shouting “oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” and slides down the cement banister of the outdoor stairs to greet them. again, i love this guy. i’d do the same thing if i were him! who wants to sit in a throne all day? i’d get bored and restless within 2 minutes and resign.

like the bastards they are, the kids grab a tub of water for the king to land in. a group of kids take off part of the cement banister (cartoon physics, we love ya), causing the support beams to hit him in the crotch as he lands in the tub.

i call the kids bastards because even though it was nice of them to break his fall with water instead, they all point fingers and ridicule him. thankfully, the king’s a good sport, and he joins in on their laughter, scooping the kids up and singing a cheery rendition of “young and healthy” (with the andrews sisters singing along as they walk up the staircase).

viewing the king’s warmth and love of the kids as an invitation for the kids to do anything they want, a group of kids heckle the queen and swing around on her skirt, much to her horror. any hope of preserving her husband’s dignity (and her own) is lost as she runs towards the camera crying.

the king finds it hilarious and doubled over laughing, now on the top of the stairs. not for long, anyway. a stream of kids run beneath his legs and send him rolling down the staircase. great shot with the stairs moving as he rolls forward! stairs are horrible to animate, let alone draw, so i commend them.

his interminable tumble is over as the king lands smack dab in the middle of a fountain. he rises to the surface, spitting out a plume of water and some fish. zoom out on the painting of the fountain from the beginning of the cartoon, with only a slight difference: the king is now in the painting in the same pose above, forever to be ridiculed. iris out.

i really enjoyed this one! the amount of personality in it was great, always refreshing to see. the king was hilarious, in voice, in design, in mannerisms—but you can’t help but sympathize with him, too. don’t we all want to slide down a banister and into a tub of water? the voice acting was more tolerable than usual, and there were some great visuals like all of the scenes involving the stairs. very entertaining cartoon! i’d give it a watch!

link!

[vayankb-blog]

“Is it enough”

IS IT ENOUGH” -Vayank Bhatia. We humans since our existence struggle to make things happen our own way , work our asses off to fulfil our desires but somehow it just doesn’t seem enough. Be it a multi-millionaire or a normal 9-5 job person, its just not enough . With all the luxuries in hand, sufficient money that can last from generations to generations, its just not “enough”. So when is it enough? Ever given it a thought? Will it be enough when u get that dream job? Will it be enough when u have abundant money? But what about everything in between ? Fighting all Odds to get that job , working hard all day , making all the sacrifices. But when we think about it, it scares us. We feel good about thinking of the destination whereas we forget how the journey is going to be. In todays world, where everything can be delivered to our doorstep, where science and technology is growing day by day, we still lack in the ability of feeling happy and satisfied. You must have read this everywhere “ be satisfied with whatever u have, thank almighty for what all he has given to u”. But do u really feel that way?. According to a research, there are more people now suffering from anxiety and depression than they did 30 years ago. Seriously? U must be thinking. A world where u can open ur phone and get to know what your friends are up to, talk to ppl miles away , all the stuff u require no matter from which part of the world , can be in your hands in a matter of days. Shouldn’t life be easier with all this?, but isn’t. Me, I am a teenager from India and by gods grace I have a very loving family who has provided me with the best of both worlds. The best of education, and now being able to pursue a career I always wanted to, without any questions asked. But somehow, I sometimes feel that I am not happy. Is it basic teenage life struggles? Maybe. But is it necessary to feel like that? Maybe not. Problems will never have an end. either small or big. They don’t end. And we always look at problems as if something really bad has happened to us or we question our fate that of all the people in the world why me? But never think of looking it from a positive perspective. We fail to learn from it, instead we cry over it. Sometimes being at the rock bottom can teach us what the mountain peak can’t. You must be thinking ‘Yes we all know that, but how to inculcate all these thoughts and be happy forever’. Sorry, you can’t. Ask yourself, when were you last satisfied, happy and felt you were happy with your life? Got you thinking right?. Thinking of all the pain you have been suffering no matter what is the cause or who was to be blamed to make u feel that way.But think, who is actually responsible now for making things right and living a healthy lifestyle?. It’s you. For how long will u hold onto something that will only bring out the worst of you? it may not be your fault, but it’s you, who is responsible for making things right and lead a happy life. What we ignore is a very important step.Acceptance. Accepting your pain plays a major role, if u want to move on. Sounds difficult?. Well, it is.But it hurts less.Accepting your current situation, will help u in making things clear that what you really want. Wishing for things to be different is not going to help, because that’s what it is. It has happened. What now?. you and only you know what’s bothering you. Knowing your inner self, your thoughts can help you recognise the extent of your wound and help you heal it, as you accept your authentic self. There is a concept which I would like to share,that is the 5/5 rule. Something’s bothering you? Think of it and see if it’ll matter to you 5 years from now, it doesn’t? Then don’t spend more than 5 seconds thinking about it. We all have problems in our present that seem too big and feels so difficult to just move past it, but as it’s said that ‘time is the biggest healer’ over time, when we look back it just doesn’t seem so huge. And it makes us think , then why did we make such a fuss about it then? Why did we waste our time?. What seems huge and painful today, might turn out to be one of the lessons life has taught you.Whatever painful situation you are in, stay strong, know you have what it takes to get through all of it. Just keep going. :) Struggle: often a misinterpreted term, what I think struggle in itself is beautiful. It makes u realise what you want and what you don’t. It tells you your strengths and weaknesses. But Something which is that beneficial be perceived so wrongly? Today struggling and failing are often treated similar. Struggling to make a career out of your passion ? People will already consider you as a failure because you aren’t doing what they want you to be doing for the rest of your life. What the actual fuck?. Ever seen a baby starting to walk at his first attempt?. No he falls and falls but one day succeeds. Improvement comes from failing multiple times before finally succeeding. if Someone’s better than you chances are that he/she has failed more than you until he got the task right. our education system is such that it judges the ability of a student on the basis of their success and failure. Whereas, one who has tasted failure has acquired more knowledge and discovered his/hers true potential. And in our society people are like what the critics are towards a film. They will screw you over what wrong you did and overlook the facts that you did try and gave your best.But u failed , and there’s absolutely nothing wrong about that, it does hurt and pain. But that pain is the part of the process, which eventually acts like fuel to fire and makes you thirsty for what you haven been searching for your whole life, SUCCESS. Me, I am writing for the very first time in my life. I would definitely get some critical judgements , but that shouldn’t stop me from writing if I really want to write . If I do, I would just prove them right and be stagnant at my position and not improve. The idea is to not please anyone but to satisfy one’s own self. Always try and bring out the positive from negative, because being positive all the time is being negative in itself. Quoting Mao Zedong “ once all struggle is grasped, Miracles are indeed possible”. So put your heads up, look at the world as your playground and do whatever you want. There will be downfalls, criticism, and a lot of pain. But savour it, and learn from it. Keep moving and achieve greater heights, because it is never enough. Life: A matter of choices. Whatever happens with you in your life is basically a consequence of a choice u make. Exam around the corner ? But u chose to go for parties instead of sitting at home and Studying your ass off. Consequence? Failure. And then crying that why did it happen to me?!? Everyone is struggling, somehow or the other. Some people accept their mistakes and move forward and those who deny, keep complaining. Failure is the only way to move forward in life. Well, it tells you where u lack , what is it that u need to improve. It’s well said that “ someone who thinks he knows everything, actually knows nothing”. We mortal beings are not scared of working hard, what scares us the most is that what if we work hard and still fail? And due to that fearful thought we don’t even give it a shot. Failure, success Is all part of the journey you and I are on. It’s based on a “consequence” of the choices you have made .What is in our hands is working towards it, keeping our goals clear. Success is just the bi-product of our work. With each and every step we should learn. The driving force should be so intense inside you that no matter how many times you fall, u should have the energy and strength to get up and get back at it, and if you fail, still. Ask yourself, that what you’re doing, is it enough?

[breathinginthevapor]

Blank canvas

Summary: You are still in the process of figuring out who you are after a messy break up with famous band member Ashton Irwin, but then you run into him at a paint store. (wow i suck at summaries)

A/N: eeeekk i love angst. so. much. Perhaps I have dark soul lol. I’m working on a lot of different pieces at the moment so keep yourselves updated! 

TW: None, I think? Language, perhaps?

Masterlist

I don’t own the picture, it’s from Ashton’s instagram.

You push the button on the coffee machine and enjoys the way it breaks the dead silence in your apartment. Never in your whole life have you been this happy for something material but then again, it isn’t just a coffee machine that makes insanely good coffee: it’s also a step towards freeing yourself.

The brown liquor pours into your favourite cup on which the faces of you and your best friend are placed. She gave it you for your 17th birthday and although five years have passed, you still drink your coffee from it every morning.

You like how comforting it is to have habits. You’ve learned that even the smallest things can make you feel more at home, and since your apartment is all bare at the moment, you’ll take anything that makes it feel more like home.

All your belongings are boxed up in your hallway, but you haven’t had the energy to unpack yet so right now, it’s just you, a madras on the floor and your coffee machine. It’s been like this for the past week and you’re almost considering just to live like this forever. Life hasn’t felt this simple in a long time and every day that goes, you catch yourself smiling wider to the cashier at Walmart, sleeping better and longer and breathing a little easier. You’re making progress.

The bitterness has been sweetened by cream, and so the delicious taste fills your mouth as you take a sip of your drink.

He always preferred it jet black and tried everything to convince you that coffee shouldn’t be drunk any other way but as black and made-from-scratch as possible. He even went to new specialist stores to get the best coffee beans possible and never let you even pour a tiny drop of milk in it, insisting that it was a “disgrace” to lessen the taste.

So now, it feels like a small victory every time the machine makes the sweetest cup possible.

You smile at the thought, feeling a little petty but whatever. He won’t know, anyway.

You don’t have any plans for today and it feels like the world is full of possibilities and offers. Perhaps you could try out the sushi place around the corner or call that friend you haven’t spoken to in months or just unpack a little and then find a new TV-show to watch, letting yourself get caught up in other’s fictional problems instead of your own.

You lean against the kitchen counter, looking around and taking everything in while drinking the rest of your coffee. It’s nothing compared to your former apartment, but you feel at home in the neighbourhood and there’s a cozy vibe to the apartment you’re fond of. The walls could use some colour, though. Perhaps it would look good with a dark blue wall in your bedroom? Or painting the bathroom pink? No one’s stopping you. And so, you throw on an old pair of sneakers and a worn-out denim jacket before you lock the door behind you.

You only know of one shop that sells good quality paint for a fair price and although it’s in your old neighbourhood half an hour drive from here, you don’t hesitate to go.

Lately, you’ve taken great joy in just driving by yourself, singing falsely at the top of your longs to whatever bad pop song the radio played. It’s not that he was judgemental or that you weren’t comfortable around him, but when your boyfriend is a member of one of the most popular bands in the world, there’s a certain pressure to at least hitting some of the notes when you sing. But well, you don’t have to care about that anymore.

After having a concert in the front seat for half an hour, you park your car outside the paint shop and jump out, humming the song you just sung.

It’s the first time in years you’ve gone out without sunglasses or a hat to cover at least some of your face from the paparazzies but to be honest, you forgot while being so caught up in the euphoria of being able to do whatever you want and you’re pretty sure it’s been long enough since the breakup that most magazines have stopped caring what you’re doing on a day off.

A bell rings when you step through the door, and the dark-skinned woman behind the cash register nods in your direction before looking down at her phone again.

The shop seems empty today, most people probably being too busy with work to bother buying new paint.

You look around, trying to figure out where the pink and blue paint is located when a hunched figure snaps your attention. He’s wearing a loose grey hoodie and joggers, but you’d be able to recognize his body anywhere. It used to be the place where you felt most at home, after all.

You stand there paralyzed, so shocked seeing him that you’ve lost all ability to move when he picks up a bucket of white paint and turns around, facing you. It looks like he stops breathing, and you think you do the same, but you’re too focused on him to be sure.

He just stands there, staring you in the eye, hair flat and greasy and prominent bags under his once beautiful hazel eyes that now looks almost empty.

And right in this moment, being able to sing out of key and sweeten your coffee seems like the least of your worries because all you want to do is jump into his arms and beg him to take you back.

“Y/N,” he greets with a voice so low you wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t for the fact that every fibre of your body is focused on him.

“Hi Ashton.” Your voice cracks when you mention his name and you suddenly become terribly self-aware. Although you’ve missed him so such you feared going insane, you really hadn’t hoped to meet him like this, dressed in night wear, slippers and an old jacket.

Actually, you would have preferred not meeting him at all for at least a couple more months, but the world is not a wish-granting factory, after all. You’ve known that for years, thanks to John Green.  

“I-I… What are you doing here? Thought you moved to the other side of town,” he stutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this nervous. He used to radiate confidence, like being covered in a silky-smooth layer of it.

However, there’s not much of that confidence left right now.

“Yeah, I did, but… I don’t know, the walls are all white and it makes everything seem so impersonal and this is the only shop I know that sells good paint so…” You’re not even sure your explanation makes any sense, but he nods like he gets what you mean and then again, he knows you better than anyone else in the entire world so it’s probably not that hard for him to get you. When you were together, you didn’t even need words to understand each other. Sometimes it almost felt like your brains were connected because you were so in sync.

“What about you, what are you doing here?”

He takes two steps towards you and the closer he gets, the more you realize how bad he looks. “The thing is, Y/N, that I’ve been sitting in our- my bedroom for the last two months, staring at the wall you painted orange when you first moved in. And I keep thinking that I didn’t even like that colour until you came into my life with your orange sundresses and painted walls and honestly, I don’t even know who I am without you.” He pauses, takes a deep breath and looks away for a few seconds, clearly trying to blink away tears. “I feel like a fucking blank canvas so I guess it’s only suitable that my walls will be too.”

The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow, and you can feel your hands grow sweaty. “Sometimes a blank canvas is nice, Ashton. It doesn’t have a lot of baggage,” you mutter, staring at your feet. “Gives you a chance to figure out who you wanna be.”

You can see his feet come closer, but you don’t dare to look up. “I know who I wanna be, Y/N.” He reaches out for your cheek, and finally, you force yourself to look up, instantly loosing yourself in his auburn orbs. “I wanna be your future. The person you depend on when everything’s shit. The man waiting for you at the altar. Not the idiot who broke your heart.”

You feel the tears stream down your cheeks, the saltwater a well-known companion considering how much time you’ve spent crying the last half year. You lean in until your lips collide with his, but it doesn’t feel like it used to. It doesn’t feel like home.

“Come home, Y/N. We’ll work this out,” he begs when your lips have parted, but you shake your head and take a small step back.

“I’m so sorry, Ashton. But it wouldn’t be right.” He looks surprised. Perhaps he thought the kiss meant something else. That it was a make-up-kiss instead of a goodbye-kiss. “I love you, don’t ever doubt that. I love you like I’ve never loved anybody else but our relationship and your lifestyle, it wasn’t healthy for me. I need stability and I need someone who is there for me and who supports me in every decision I make, even if it is drinking my coffee with milk and cream.”

You try to smile at him, but it only makes you cry harder, so you gather everything in you to continue your explanation. “And I like being a blank canvas right now. I like getting a do-over, a chance to reconsider if I even like orange anymore. Because this past year has changed me. After being left all alone, even when you were home, feeling like shit and doubting myself because I felt like you’d stopped loving me, I’ve changed. I need to get to know the new me. And you don’t fit in that equation, Ashton.”

You take a deep breath after your long flow of speech, your stomach turning. He looks completely, utterly broken, but it’s not your place to comfort him anymore. His friends, the people he has actually prioritized and been there for, will have to repay that favour now. “I’m sorry, Ashton,” you whisper, and then you turn on your heel and walk out of the store, finally firmly closing the door to your past with Ashton. You’ll buy paint another day, you decide. Right now, it’s time for a drink.

And while you get into your car, smiling through tears and feeling like a heavy weight has been lifted from your chest, Ashton falls down on the floor, salt water clouding his vision and hands trembling. He knows he has fucked up, but he always thought you’d be there, granting him your forgiveness and mending his pain with your presence. Nevertheless, you’re gone now, and he can do nothing but blame himself for letting this be your only choice. If only he had treated you better.

[scoobydoominuscoobydoo]

It’ll Be A Sensation

AO3

FF.Net

I think I’ve officially run out of pansies to count outside our apartment window, Mrs. Dabney can only plant so many flowers across the street.

Of course, it wouldn’t have killed her to use a variety of colors – red had become rather dull.

Yawning, I stretch out on our window seat and rest my head down.

I send a glance back in the direction of my pet, who was occupying himself with click clacking until the wee hours of the morning on the typewriter. Deadlines or not, it had been over a fortnight since my pet had gotten some proper sun outside of our afternoon walk.

Turning my attention back to the “riveting” pansies, I hear him yawn.

He rubs his hands over his face and through his hair, exhausted from the time he’s spent checking his own notes.

Ever since he had been asked to write this cookbook, he’d hardly have time to focus on his personal life.

I was mostly concerned with his social life.

No matter how many hard whacks to the back he’d get, I knew that Shaggy wasn’t exactly in love with the bachelor lifestyle. And I definitely agreed with that – even more so, I’d say it was completely uneventful and boring. Our small home only ever filled with sighs, yawns, and that infinite click clacking – nothing there to be proud of.

Sure, we had friends that we could go and have the occasional well-to-do with.

But… that was hardly the type of “companion” I figured Shaggy needed.

I imagine that if there was anything to free him from his workaholic ways - it’d be a healthy female.

Now I was a total novice when it came to the standards of human beauty – what smelled bad to me smelled amazing to other men evidently.

But after living in the big city for a few years, I think I have a fairly broad idea of what to look for.

Unfortunately, the closest I’ve ever gotten to finding my pet a decent mate was through window shopping. Which hardly counted for anything because plenty of ideal specimen had passed by our building multiple times.

And I had no way of stopping them.

I’m sure any of them would be very eager to make my pet happy.

I heard the chime of the clock – twelve p.m. had arrived – the best time of day for window shopping.

The click clacks counted out the seconds until the first woman passed by, she didn’t look old or sickly. Things were looking up already!

And then I saw her yelling out something incoherent at her supposed companion, who she was also dragging by the neck on one of those horrid leads. I furrowed my brow and shook my head, ‘Definite no.’ I thought.

That woman was just the first of a long line of near misses.

Too rich looking.

Too old.

Not old enough.

Too busy being chased by the police.

It was like this every day, my life, just trying to find a woman that wasn’t clearly full of herself, old enough to be Shaggy’s grandmother, or daughter, or a menace of the law.

Frustrated, I drag one of our unread magazines in front of me.

A blonde woman with bright red lips and long legs posed on the cover page – her close-mouthed smile planting a lot of questions in my mind, ‘What on earth is she smiling about?’ Being at the top. The woman that was being dragged away in handcuffs looked a little like her – but Shaggy deserved more than just a beautiful mate. He deserved a smart and kind one, somebody who would understand and help him adapt to a life with less click clacking and more plates of his food being left on the floor.

Somebody kind and sporting a beautiful smile, who wasn’t afraid to rub my belly.

And that was when it clicked in my mind, a flash of red and purple before my mind turned those colors into shapes. And then those shapes became a woman.

My eyes could have followed any other woman walking along, but they stayed glued to her.

Something about this creature made me sit up and lean against the window.

She was grinning brightly down at the book she was holding in her hands, sending glances down at the small dog walking alongside her.

With no clear leash, I noted.

Now I was already given a special feeling about this one, the smile on her face and the bounce in her step telling me so much about her.

But as soon as I saw her partner walking next to her, my mind had been totally made up.

Somehow, someway, I was gonna stop the two of them – and Shaggy was gonna be with me.

-

After a chorus of barks and scratches at our front door, insisting I take Shaggy out for a walk, he let out an annoyed groan, “Scoob you’re just trying to get our neighbors mad at me, aren’t you?”

He dodged piles of clothes and his (now broken) umbrella, yanking his keys from the paper-covered table.

I saw him wince as the midday sunlight hit his eyes and he recoiled back into the shade for a moment before seeing that I wasn’t stopping for him.

“Scooby! Like if you don’t slow down the neighborhood watch lady is gonna make me put the leash on you.” I huffed, Shaggy wasn’t in any hurry to make it to the park – which is where the mystery dog and her pet most likely went – at this rate his leisurely pace was gonna result in him losing the love of his life.

That was when an idea popped into my head, and few minutes later I was dragging Shaggy by his arm, ‘Thank goodness these nightmarish things work both ways.’

I ignored the many complaints and orders to slow down, and the sound of him almost tripping over a tree root. There would be time to be punished during the wedding reception, if he had gotten Shaggy out here in time.

There was no way that angel and Shaggy’s perfect match could have sped through the park on a day like this.

That’d be criminal.

Unless you were doing it for the sake of love.

Like he was.

Right now.

Damn it, where was she?!

There was no way he was gonna let that one and a million chance at Shaggy finding love just disappear without him ever even getting at least a glance at her. That would be my ultimate crime against humanity.

Dreary, gray, early spring sunlight shone through the newly revived treetops – acting as no help to my search.

I swerved my way through the endless lines of pathways and even dragging Shaggy through unkempt bushes. Ready to deal with his wrath later, or as angry as Shaggy was capable of being. That wasn’t the priority right now.

My heartbeat began to pick up the pace as dread set in and I realized that I had taken too long.

Part of me had already given up – prepared to be trapped in that room with a never ceasing click clack and growing dark lines under Shaggy’s eyes.

And then that flash of red blurred across my vision, clear and distinct as ever.

She’s here, thank God she’s still here.

I make a sharp turn towards the bench she’s sitting at, nearly sending Shaggy careening into a tree, and I see that same bright smile tugging at her lips. Occasionally interrupted by the shaking of her shoulders as she’d chuckle softly at the story’s antics.

I had been so excited to see her and the charming companion resting next to her, that it hadn’t occurred to me that I didn’t have a plan.

When I finally dragged my pet’s sorry butt to the bench, where were they gonna go from there?

Knowing Shaggy, he’d avoid eye contact and say nothing before dragging me away from her and the lovely, cocker.

Poor man was never gifted with talking to the ladies.

I turned and sent a glance up at him, he was sending me a very similar, confused look.

“What are you doing bud?” Is what he was communicating to me.

Which was a good question, exactly what was I doing?

Huffing, I agreed to make sure they actually saw each other before I made any further movements. But as soon as I turned my attention back to the bench, both the perfect mate and the lovely dog had left. Fate was just not gonna be on my side today was it?

Immediately I set off, there was no way I was gonna get that lucky a second time – I absolutely needed to catch up with her otherwise I’ll lose both of them forever.

I sped down the pathway, my vison centering on what was in front of me, staying attentive with the hopes of see that bright red hair. How I wish Shaggy could detect the gravity of the situation so he’d bother to let me run without fear of sending him face-first into the pavement. And that was when I saw her, with the small, fluffy companion alongside.

The end of our bachelor lives was just within my grasp and growing closer.

And then, it was growing farther away.

“Alright Scoob, this has been a fun workout and I’ll be sure to remember it fondly when I see all the bruises on my shins. But I can’t keep letting you drag me through the park, it’s making me hungry.”

No Shaggy!

Please don’t give up on my cause!

Not when she’s right there!

The tugging at my neck didn’t relent and now I was regretting letting him put the leash on in the first place.

As that flash of red began to shrink from my sight I growled – I wasn’t going to return to a life of yawning without giving this a real shot. There was only so much I could do for my pet, not enough to prevent loneliness.

Using all the strength I had, I began to pull.

‘I just need to get to her and then it’ll go on from there.’

Never had something relatively close felt so far.

One step after the other, I made sure to anchor myself each time, this was gonna need to be quick otherwise Shaggy would become exasperated and just pick me up.

In a few short moves, I reached the red and made a quick loop around her legs – she let out a surprised cry but I didn’t give her or Shaggy anytime to process.

All at once, I had tied their legs together and forced them to see each other.

I grinned proudly, now I was just going to let nature take over.

The little cocker spaniel stood across from me, her face contorted in worry, it’d only take her a moment to understand.

The two pets struggled to get balance as they wriggled around, “Ma’am I’m so sorry I – I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Shaggy said this as he attempted to bend down and free them of their fabric shackles.

The grey light and the soft babbling of the brook next to them added quite a lovely soundtrack to their meeting.

The sound of them both splashing into said brook was less lovely.

On the bright side the leash had unraveled.

The small spaniel sent him a glare and leapt into action, jumping into the brook to chase after Red’s runaway book.

Speaking of Red, I have to say she is quite the complainer when it comes to being drenched.

“This was my newest blazer, oh dear the cold water’s gonna ruin it! A-And my skirt, th-the colors are gonna bleed everywhere!” She sniffled as Shaggy offered both of his hands down to her, she stared at them blankly for a moment before grabbing onto them and letting him pull her up.

She then returned to complaining, “I-If you can’t even control your dog on a leash then maybe you shouldn’t take him out at all!”

“Yes ma’am I really am so sorry… I’ll pay to get everything dry cleaned for you.”

The woman stared at him blankly as she sniffled again.

Then she looked away, marching out of the brook with a puddle of freezing water following after her, “I think you’ve done enough already sir…” Her companion returned with the book clenched in her jaw, stopping right next to me and giving her whole body a good shake.

I closed my eyes as the barrage of droplets attacked me.

“Come along Nova, I need to get out of this outfit quickly.” As she turned away and began to leave a thought crossed my mind, ‘Had I messed up?’

And then the woman let out a loud sneeze, pulling me from my thoughts and dragging Shaggy’s attention away from glaring at me.

“Oh fantastic.” The lady said bitterly as she turned back toward the brook to squeeze out her soaked handkerchief.

Amazingly, Shaggy moved into action on his own, going toward her while searching his own jacket pocket.

“Here – um – have mine….” He said as he found what he was looking for and presented it. The two of them stared at the completely soaked article of fabric, and there was dead silence between them.

And then, that smile returned to her face.

A soft chuckling filled all the empty space, and it quickly evolved into hysterical laughter as she leaned forward to brace her weight against him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Soon both of them were in an uncontrollable fit as they continued to lean against each other.

Somehow, the little dog had found her way next to me without my knowing, as I looked down at her I saw that glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

Now she realized what I had done and she smiled up at me.

I returned that smile and brought my attention back to the two laughing idiots before me.

[therandomfics]

Convalescence: 4

Class wore on with minutes feeling like hours until finally, it was time to leave. You grabbed your treat box and your bag, dreading the drive home. It wasn't necessarily a journey but it was the thought of going home to your small void of emotions that you called your room. It was a strange feeling to not want to go home, you had to admit, but you pushed it out of your head as you walked alongside Sonny to your car.

"You know you didn't need to get me a donut, honestly," you finally said as you neared your vehicle. After unlocking it and pocketing your keys, you tossed your bag in the backseat and shut the door. "But it's really nice of you and pleasantly surprising. Thank you, if I haven' told you yet."

He shrugged with a humble smile and held his hand out for the box. "I'm doin' this for you, but keep in mind I really don't like donuts. They're all the same, except for this one."

"What makes this one so different?" you asked, handing over the pastry box. "First of all it's a unicorn. I've heard from my nieces those are rare," he explained, as if the answer were entirely obvious. "Secondly, I'm sharing it with you. Thanks for being the best night school co-desk inhabitant I could have asked for."

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. It was impossible to deny how nice he was. "Well let's get on with it then before our rare unicorn disappears." He gingerly removed the sprinkle decorated dough ring and tore it in half while the box rested on the hood of your car. He handed you a side and kept the other for himself. "M'lady."

Suddenly you were overwhelmed with the desire to embrace this new person in your life and hold him tightly while praying he didn't leave or change. It was alarming and obvious to Sonny as he looked at you quizzically, brows raised.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You waved it off with a small laugh. "Yeah. But you know they say consuming unicorn blood is like the biggest cruelty of all - dooms you really, so what's to say eating an actual unicorn won't be just as traumatic?"

"When you're with me, you don't need to worry about anything traumatizing you," he insisted, and you believed him.

"Well, if you say you," you conceded with a shrug and took a bite of the donut as sprinkles tinked onto the concrete of the parking garage floor. It tasted like strawberries and was so sweet it hurt your teeth.

Sonny was two bites in, a feat for someone who didn't like donuts, and winced at the sugary indulgence as well. "Next time I'll get something plain."

Next time, you repeated to yourself. It was so easy to let yourself get caught up in the idea that Sonny was perfect because he hadn't shown you anything bad - yet. What kind of warped mind did you have that you were already set to find his flaws? It was a defense mechanism, yes, but it was also stupid you thought, that you were always trying to find the bad in people. At what point would it change so that you were able to function like a real human being again?

"Thanks for walking me to my car," you murmured and turned towards your car door, signalin to Sonny that you'd be leaving soon.

"Hey, listen.. Y/N.." he trailed off, placing his hand gently on your arm. You pulled away and looked at him with just enough concern that he pulled his hand away and apologized immediately.

"It's okay. I'm sorry. What were you going to say?"

"I was hoping maybe I could have your number? Nothin' funny I promise," he swore, hands in the air.

You nodded in agreement and he lowered his hands to fish his phone from his pocket. He handed it to you after unlocking it. "As long as you don't call me before 8AM. And never after 10PM," you explained and entered your cell. You saved it and handed the device back with a small, almost forced smile.

"Thanks, Y/N. I'll text you so you can have my number. And please, let me know when you get home so I know you got there safely," he added before he turned on his heel and strode away. Getting comfortable was impossible with a million monitors hooked up to you and your unborn child. Everytime you moved, you dislocated a pad and a nurse had to come back in to replace it. Eventually she got angry and told you to stop moving, but you reminded her very quickly that she wasn't the one with pre-eclampsia and uncomfortable. 

Emma and Jake showed up that night to console you and bring you a few things you'd need for comfort - pajamas, slippers, a nice plush blanket, and ice chips because you weren't allowed to eat or drink until the baby was born. The OB-GYN came in several times over the course of an hour. You were dazed and out of focus in your own mind, oblivious to the growing tension in the room. 

"Listen," Dr. Thiels began slowly. "You're not dilating. We've been trying since you got here, but because your blood pressure is dangerously high we can't keep waiting. I'm scheduling you for a caesarean tomorrow morning at 9:30."

"Okay, sure," you murmured. What did it matter if you disagreed? 

"Is there anyone I can call?" he offered as he patted your knee. 

"No. There really never is," you replied dismissively and turned to face away from him, staring at the beeping of the heart monitor. By 10AM the next morning, a beautiful and healthy baby girl was introduced to the world. She was just slightly underweight given her three week early appearance, but otherwise everything about her was wonderful and perfect. As you held her in your arms and stared down at the bundle of joy - or so they'd called her - that was resting in your protective embrace, you realized that she looked like her father - like your attacker. You fought back your tears as you asked Emma to hold her and feigned the need for sleep before asking everyone to leave the room and leave you be. There weren't enough drugs in the ward to keep you from feeling the pain you felt at that very moment. 

That night as your medicine wore off and your c-section wound began to burn and seethe, you realized that in comparison to what you'd been through, an incision wasn't much to cry about. 

The night nurse pumped you full of morphine that night, little sticks to your thigh every hour so that you'd sleep. You figured maybe she was an angel of mercy - that, or she was sick of hearing you cry. Either way, you thanked her. Y/N: Home. SC: Took you long enough. Y/N: I stopped to get dinner. SC: Why didn't you say something? I would have taken you to eat.Y/N: That isn't necessary. You're really kind for offering. SC: What can I say? I like you. You're different. Y/N: Different good or bad?SC: Can't call it. :PY/N: Goodnight, Detective Donuts

So maybe Sonny wasn't all that bad after all. Maybe you'd be wise to give him a chance? Maybe not every man in the world was out to ruin your life and make you suffer. Maybe. Fridays at work were always the best days. You wore jeans, you got a longer lunch, and you left 30 minutes early. Your roommates always had weekend plans and had grown tired of asking you and never getting a yes, so they'd stopped asking you ages ago. It was normally your habit to go home, cook dinner, watch something on TV, do some homework, and go to bed. You lived a very mellow lifestyle, but you did so as a kind of repentance for the wild and crazy way you lived pre-baby, pre-assault. There were too many nights you couldn't remember and too many close encounters with strangers who wanted more than you were willing to give. It should have been an eye-opener, but for some reason it was just more of a reason to assert your dominance until suddenly you had none left.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket as you headed for the elevator, leaving work for the weekend. It was Sonny.

“Hey,” you greeted as you swiped to answer his call.

“Hey yourself. What are you doing tonight?”

You paused. Nothing, of course, but did he need to know how boring you were? He could probably tell already. “Honestly nothing. How about you?”

“Taking you out. Nothing fancy, don’t worry, I just wanted to see you. Is that okay?”

You held back a soft giggle and felt your cheeks blushing again, how many times had he done this now? “Yeah. I’ll text you my address.”

“Can’t wait. I’ll come by around 7.”

[dr-gloom]

Happiest I’ve Ever Been

Muted got some great commentary on my AO3 and it made me feel loved so I’m writing a continuation

Here we go!

Summary: Virgil and Roman have been together for almost three months, but this is the first time they’re meeting in person, and Virgil feels like he’s going to vomit from all the feels. 

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Prinxiety

Tags/Warnings: some swearing, Human AU, First Official Meeting, I guess?, Trans Character, Trans Virgil

Enjoy!

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

No one in their small friend group had been surprised when Virgil and Roman got together. They’d all smiled and shared a laugh when Patton said, “Bet! Paypal up!” and that was essentially the end of the discussion. The other three just figured Roman and Virgil had a chat after that call and confessed their feelings in some slice-of-life-anime way. Virgil would never actually tell anyone how it happened; he was still embarrassed. 

Logan had been the first to sign off, stating that a proper sleep schedule was essential for a healthy lifestyle before hanging up. The other four had stayed up and chatted for a few more hours. Patton had actually ended up falling asleep on camera while they were all watching Snow White through Thomas’ shared screen, and once the movie was over the remaining three agreed to hang up. Thomas had work in the morning and the other two hadn’t wanted to keep the conversation going with the possibility of Patton waking up and eavesdropping. 

Almost as soon as the call was over, Roman was calling Virgil. Virgil felt his heart leap into his throat as he answered, Roman’s radiant face taking up his screen. At some point during the movie he had changed into his pajamas, a white set that looked like a prince’s outfit. Virgil hugged his black cat head plush to his chest, the heels of his feet resting on the edge of his seat and bringing his knees up to his chest. He waves hesitantly at Roman with a slight smile before resting his chin on his knees. Roman’s smile grew as Virgil appeared on his screen. “Virgil! Good to see you.” Virgil quirked an eyebrow and typed into the chat. His mic was on, but he was suddenly too anxious to speak. 

Emo Nightmare: you literally saw me like, 2 minutes ago

Roman’s smile wanes slightly as Virgil types, and Virgil feels bad. The smile is back in full force soon enough though as Roman replies. “I know that, but now it’s just us! And I actually... want to talk to you about something.” Oh god, here it is. He’s not even totally sure what he’s worried about; he knows Roman isn’t going to take back his friendship, or it would have already happened, right? And... anything else would be a bonus, right? Even if he just wants to ask questions, Virgil would be educating a friend on trans matters. Virgil nods mutely and Roman continues. 

“Well... I’m sure you heard my outburst earlier, judging by everyone’s reactions when I came back to the call...” Virgil turns red at the recent memory, nodding again. “Y-yeah...” When he manages to find his voice, Roman’s smile changes to be something more.... admiring. “Well... Medusa’s hair! Virgil, I have feelings for you. Of... The romantic sort.” Virgil sits there in silence for a moment, each second making Roman’s nervous smile drop a bit more, until Virgil blushes and stutters out a “W-wait, what..?”, immediately grimacing when his voice comes out too high and feminine. 

Roman looks at his lap, uncharacteristically shy. Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen Roman like this, and... it’s kind of cute, honestly. Sure, yeah, Roman was always attractive and (dare he say it?) funny, even at his most obnoxious self-assured, but there’s something about the way he glances at the camera uncertainly with a hesitant but excited smile that makes Virgil’s stomach warm. “I do. And I realize this is not the most romantic way to confess one’s feelings - in fact, I had planned this elaborate- not important. The point is, I can no longer stand to keep this to myself, and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I had to tell you.” 

Roman looks at Virgil almost expectantly, waiting for a response. Virgil shifts in his chair, setting his feet on the carpet and curling his toes into it to ground himself. “Ah... Well... I maybe... Possibly... Feel the same. But- but don’t get all excited and shit, I mean- not that- dammit, I mean... You’re really far away.” Virgil bit his lip, picking at his cuticles. That was why he’d been so reluctant to talk about this; no matter how either person felt, they were in different states; how could they possibly make it work? Apparently Roman had already considered that. He sits up straighter, gripping the edge of his desk as he leans in with a grin. 

“Ah, but you forget my prince of darkness, we have these video calls! And we can plan times to visit each other. It won’t be as often as either of us would like... But it’s better than nothing.” He nods resolutely, and Virgil can feel his face heating up for a whole different reason. Just the thought that someone cared about him enough to be willing to wait for him, even from another state, and to spend money to see him? It was too much. His eyes burned and he ducked his head down to hide the tears starting to form on his lashes. He never thought this would actually happen to him, not even when he’d first realized he’d liked Roman and he was at his most optimistic. He thought of what it would be like, to talk to Roman every day - which they already do, but this would be different - and be a couple together. To share everything, and plan dates together, and save up money to fly down there or waiting for Roman to fly to him. 

To have Roman in the same room as him, instead of 400 miles away. 

That’s what finally made the tears fall. Virgil’s shoulders start trembling as he imagines what it’d feel like to finally see Roman in front of him, actually in front of him. To touch him and hug him and, god, kiss him. Roman says his name, his tone concerned and uncertain, and when Virgil finally looks up Roman’s expression turns a little panicked. 

“Oh, Virgil! Love, I’m sorry! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry, whatever I said I apologize.” Virgil shakes his head, scrubbing his eyes and smearing his eyeshadow in the process. “It- It’s not that, Princey, I...” He sighs shakily, sniffling, and Roman looks about ready to sell his soul to be able to hug Virgil. “I just... really want you here right now.” He laughs wetly and hides his face in his hands, and Roman makes a sad understanding noise. 

“I do too, Virge. God, I do. We can do this though. I love you.” Virgil didn’t care about the warnings he’d heard growing up, how ‘I love you’ should be reserved for The One, or you’d get your heart broken. How you shouldn’t say it too soon; this wasn’t too soon, not to Virgil. “I- I love you too, Roman.” They both smiled a little shakily at each other, and if Roman had started crying too, well, Virgil didn’t mention it.

They’d been together for almost three months now, and they were easily the best three months of Virgil’s life so far. He was probably the happiest he’d ever been, and everyone could tell. Since unmuting his mic, he’d still been quiet and hesitant to speak up, but a few weeks later he was almost as vocal as his friends, and his smiles came more freely. The others didn’t mention it, almost afraid that if they did Virgil would stop. Roman loved it, and he especially loved the private calls the two would have after everyone else would head off. 

Roman and Virgil spent these private calls planning various dates for when they would meet up, talking about their days (anything that wasn’t shared in the group that is), and talking about the future. Virgil saved up any money that came his way. Hell, he’d even started recycling to save up as much as possible. Roman was the first to get enough money for a plane ticket, and after much arguing it had been decided that Roman would be staying at Virgil’s, because as Virgil said, “Why the fuck would I let you stay at a hotel when this is the first time I’m seeing you in person? I’d be stupid to let you out of my sight.”

And now, Virgil was standing in an airport terminal waiting for Roman’s flight to land with increasing jitters. His stomach was doing somersaults, and any time the voices in his head would start up with their doubts and insecurities, Virgil would put in his earbuds and blast the entire album of Folie A Deux. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone vibrated, and he pulled it out to read a new text from Roman, his heartbeat in his ears. 

Ro <3: plane just landed! Prepare to be swept off your feet ;) <3

Virgil didn’t even care that he was smiling like a loon. He jumps out of his seat, taking one glance at the screen of departures and arrivals to confirm that Roman’s plane was in fact here, then he runs to Roman’s terminal. He bounces on the balls of his feet as people start to filter out of the terminal, and for an impossible second he’s afraid he won’t recognize Roman (which is ridiculous, they’d just had a video call last night). He doesn’t have to worry long, though, because soon enough he’s seeing Roman’s red jacket and making eye contact with him before shouting and running right for him.

Other passengers and bystanders rush to get out of Virgil’s way, and when he’s right in front of Roman he stops, throwing his arms around the other and hugging him tightly. He’s here, he’s really here. I can touch him, he’s here. “I’m here Virge. I’m here.” Roman hugs him back just as tightly, burying his face in Virgil’s purple hair. He holds him close, one hand on his back, the other on the back of his head, and Virgil feels so safe and secure and loved. He laughs softly in Roman’s ear, and Roman thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

They break the hug, but they never separate. They hold hands all the way out of the airport, and only let go long enough to load Roman’s bag into the back of Virgil’s shitty camaro and get in, Virgil taking Roman’s hand again as he drives one-handed to his apartment in the middle of town. They park and Virgil takes Roman’s bag, shooting down his protests with “You’re my guest. I’m carrying your bag.” Once they get inside and Virgil’s set the bag down in his room, he turns around to find Roman right in front of him. He opens his mouth to say something, but Roman stops him by cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a kiss. Virgil kisses back, thinking to himself that this is the happiest he’s ever been, but he’d probably be changing his mind plenty in the future. 

A/N: Yep. Virgil had waited at that airport for hours. I know what I said.

I hope this was good! I love cliche meetings tbh