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bunni-blurbs · 2 years

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Pure Pt 3

Carly: Throwing her arms around Mark's neck, she planted a passionate kiss on his lips, His tongue begging to explore her mouth. Her body was humming the more he deepened his search to light her passion. Pulling away, so tomorrow, right?! Yes, it came out all lusty and hungry for more. Rubbing the lip gloss off his lips and giving him another quick kiss before beginning to walk back to the barn. Are you not staying for the party? No baby tomorrow night isn’t going to prepare itself; he spoke softly as he brushed the hair from her face. It's going to be special, party hard enough tonight for the both of us. You bet she yelled as she swung open the barn's doors screaming, LETS PARTY BITCHES!!!! She overheard his chuckle! Looking over her shoulder she said, eat your fucking heart out!

Pulling the doors close, she allowed her mind to slip into the rhythm of the music as she slowly began moving her hips to the beat! This was it, the last big party, one last night filled with dancing, laughter, and of course CHUG CHUG CHUG!!! Just one last night of pure fun! She wanted to change for him, wanted to make sure what happened that night, never happens again, she couldn’t afford to lose him ever again. It would break her heart, just when the gripping sadness threatened to reach her eyes, she was bumped around by the moving crowd. Yelling PARTY!!!! PARTY!!! PARTY!!! The sadness loosened its grip on her heart, as she returned to the last night of being Miss Life of the Party, Carly.

Mark: I need a table for two for tomorrow night, 8 o'clock or 8:30 if you have it, the voice on the other in of the phone sounded like an overworked, stressed-out woman, but she got him all booked up. With that done, he was a few steps closer to planning the perfect do-over date. But there was one surprise he wanted to give her in the worse way, and she was gonna enjoy every inch, she can bet her next orgasm on that! Fuck it! I want to start my day with her sooner than later, he said with a smile. Grabbing his keys off the table and heading for the door. A little car side, pick up to help prove to her, this time he was serious... To be honest, this day may go in reverse order, because waiting until the end of the night, just was off the table at this point. This was a long time coming!

*After Party*

Carly: She looked at the barn doors and she could see sunlight starting to creep into the cracks in the wood. It was almost 6 am and today was the day. Everyone had gone home by then so there she stood alone, for a brief second fear creep up her spine, but she had been here a thousand times before. But somehow in this dead silence, she could hear the countless nights of partying, laughter, dancing, and tragedy that played out in the very location. The memories seemed bigger than the barn or her heart could even hold. So here, would be where she finally just left the past and this place behind. Grabbing a large garbage bag, she began picking up all the cups, bottles, and other trash but then she heard the barn doors crack slightly. A tiny rush of fear and excitement hit her all at once, pushing past the small internal funeral she was having in her mind, for the life she once knew.

She turned with a smile, hoping to see Mark's delicious tall build standing behind her. A look of horror crossed over her face, and a pitfall took place of what was once her stomach as her eyes widen. Billy, what are you doing here?! And why do you have that?! Her voice strained to come out of her throat... That tiny jolt of fear was replaced, with fear that ran deep enough to kill...

Billy: Scratching his head with the barrel of the gun in his right hand, he began a slow evil laugh, borderline crazy uncontrollable laughter. Well well well, little miss life of the party Carly, you dated me, to just go right back to that bitch boy, Mark?! He was walking towards her slowly, the gun pointed right at her, and he could see her hands shaking from the distance across the barn. You really thought that I was just gonna let you go?! After I waited, 3 FUCKING years for you to ditch that guy, even after I cut the brakes that night, who would have thought that your dumbass would be the one that wouldn’t wear your seatbelt. At first, he just wanted to scare her, but the more he watched the two of them get even closer, the more rage took over and he slowly began to lose sight of himself. to the point, he just confessed a secret he was supposed to take to his grave! Well, they're graves because they would be together not them!

She opened her mouth to plead with him, SHUTUP CARLY THE TIME FOR YOU TO TALK IS OVER. Placing the gun to her temple, what does he have that I don’t huh?! You would give up partying for this zero?! What was he doing, this was going way too far, but it was like he couldn't stop as if something else was controlling him. Fueled by rage and rejection he pushed a bit further into no return. Fuck you she screamed which shook him back to his plot for revenge. Carly, he walked out without a scratch! You ruined.... the click of the safety being removed from the gun seemed to silence her talking as he spoke slowly and very quietly, say anything else, and I will hurt you more than he ever could. He saw her swallow hard as tears streamed down her face. At least I will have this over him, I will be the one to cause you more pain than you can handle! So, keep testing your limits, CARLY!

After one year of dating him, you were so much better than me, but you know what I realized? You don’t even know who you want to be, you just don’t want to be alone, and you used me as a jump-off! The second choice, I have let people treat me like shit my whole life, but another female will not hurt me again! He was screaming next to her ear and began to panic, walking back and forward. Just calm down.....He cock back the barrel on the gun and aimed for her shoulder, the sound of her scream filled the barn, I told you if you spoke again, I would hurt you right?! His eyes burned with dark intent, Carly does that hurt? Are you gonna be, okay?! Questions, you never asked me when you were dancing out my life again! He was waving the gun around as he spoke, rage pumping through his veins, and then boom! A brief moment of pure silence passed between them as their eyes meet.

He dropped the gun, tears filling his eyes as he rushed to her. Carly NO, CARLY PLEASE, NO, I'M SORRY!!!! SOMEONE HELP ME?! HELP ME PLEASE! I DIDN’T MEAN TO!!! OH MY GOD. His hand was pressed to her neck to stop the blood from gushing from the shot wound. He shot her shoulder barely just a flesh womb, but this oh my god this, was fatal! He was losing her in the worse way! By his own hands! Why? Why couldn't he just calm down?!

Carly: Tears filled her eyes, the pain felt like fire burning her skin, and she could feel her body going into shock. Mark....please....help....me. She felt the pressure on her neck suddenly stop. You would call for him still in your last moments?! You fucking bitch, he said as he stood up, goodbye life of the party Carly. He turned and just walked away, her vision was beginning to get blurry, and her eyes were closing. She knew today she was giving up the life of the party but God, she didn't want to give up Carly...

Mark: Pulling up to that old barn. He turned the car off, this was a hell of a night, and she is going to need help cleaning. Wait, is that Billy? Why is?! His knee would regret this, but he ran for the first time in a while, didn’t trust the knee anymore. He saw blood on the barn doors, when he pushed the doors open, he almost started hyperventilating as he screamed for help. Rushing to her side, oh my god Carly, no, Carly, please baby, please, I love you, just open your eyes, you have to!!!

His hands and clothes were covered in her blood from holding her close to his chest. Trying to keep pressure on her neck, as he sobbed uncontrollably just begging for her to come back for them, for her, for their future, just fight CARLY FIGHT! I love you, followed by a cough that made blood come from her mouth. I'm not gonna make it Mark. His body was stiff, and she spoke again you know it's true, give me your hand. He took her hand, Carly our life, our future, our plans?! I know but tell me about our perfect day, please? Car... No tears Mark, I want to remember what this day could have been! Her voice getting weaker, I want to remember you smiling. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes as she gripped his hand tighter and closed her eyes to imagine their day together.

Mark closed his eyes, gripping her hand tighter in his and kissing her forehead softly. I was coming to help you clean up, maybe take you home so you can change, a day date for frozen yogurt, followed up by a walk on the beach, take you to that little fruit stand to pick out fruit for later, then I made dinner plans for us, he choked on the words as pain boiled over in his heart. Coughing followed by too much blood and then her last words; sounds like the sweetest day, I wish I could...And then she was gone, he was screaming as sirens echoed in the background.

Another shot was fired, and pain burned in the middle of his lower back. Gripping his back and looking over his shoulder, BILLY YOU FUCKING DID THIS?! YOU FUCKING KIL, the words got caught in his throat. Now no one gets the girl, an evil laugh came from deep within him, and a dark place formed in Mark's mind. He was attacking Billy before he could even stop himself. He was beating him and beating him, police rushed in pulling the two apart. HE KILLED HER, HE FUCKING MURDERED HER IN COLD BLOOD, YOU JEALOUS FUCKER!!! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!!!! YOU TOOK HER FROM ME?! WHY BILLY WHY?! He was crying on his knees as they wheeled her out in that black fucking bag, sir let us get you fixed up.

Fueled by rage he had forgotten about the bullet that barely missed his spine; he knew that was Billy's intent for shooting him in the back. They took his statement on the way to the hospital and arrested billy on the spot. But nothing and he meant nothing could bring his baby back. A week later, He sat for an hour in all the places that he wanted to take her. He ended up at her grave late that evening to just visit her. Kneeling down to place the flower he got for her he finally spoke, how am I supposed to keep going without you, rain touched his forehead but only a single drop at first...It felt like a kiss from Carly, from the heavens as he wept softly. It was always you. You lit up my whole world, always the life of my party and always the beat that my heart could sing to. Kissing her headstone as the rain showered him and for a second, it felt like the night he won her back. And for just a minute, a tiny minute, he could feel her hand in his again. I'll never forget....pure love...

#My writing #storytelling #story time #pure thrill #pure part 3 #fiction #mystery #thrills #tragic lovers

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edenofthingsuncharted · 5 months

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A Review: Baby Reindeer

Donny — a struggling comedian, craving for an audience — met his abuser whom he thought was going to pave his way to fame. Later in his life, he met Martha, a 40-something-year-old lady who became his stalker. Martha is basically a classic stalker. Showing up at Donny’s workplace, sending him hundreds of emails every day, trying to insert herself into his life, harassing every person who dared to get near him. At the end, Donny had to choose to sympathize with her, or save himself and his loved ones.

At the first glance, I thought what made the series so compelling to me is the fact that it is based on true events. I’m a sucker for true crime stories, so it is only natural for me to put this right into my watchlist. I played the first episode and thought, “Maybe this is too boring,” but I stayed put. I have to say I’m glad I continued watching.

Donny takes us on his journey of dealing with Martha as well as his own demons. On a faithful day, he came to a police station for one reason and one reason only, to report his stalker. Perhaps what triggered his epiphany was when the police officer asked, “Why did it take you so long to report?” That one question alone prompted him to look deep into himself and faced him with internal issues that he had tried to burry at the back of his head, issues he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

The question was always, “Why?”

Why did it take me so long to report?

Why does she keep following me?

Why am I so ashamed of myself?

Why did I let her?

Why did I let him?

Why is she doing all this?

Why am I not happy?

In the end Donny realized that him and Martha are just trying to fill a big void within themselves. To Donny, Martha symbolized the attention he’s craving — just like his abuser. Obviously not the right kind of attention, but it certainly made him feel noticed. She made him feel seen. To Martha, Donny was her stuffed baby reindeer she got as a Chrismast present when she was little. The doll reminded her of those days she would hold it tight whenever her parents were having an argument. The doll symbolized a feeling of comfort and safety. Donny made her feel like no matter what happened, she would always have him to make her happy.

All in all, I think what makes this series very compelling to me is how candid Donny spoke about the issues he’s dealt with, allowing us a peek into his journal. What feels like Donny narrating us, guiding us through it all, was just him having a heart to heart conversation with himself. The series itself is not just about a man telling his story, it is also about the importance of knowing ourselves — acknowledging our issues, what made us who we are, stop blaming ourselves on the harm other people caused us, taking accountability on parts where we hurt others, and making peace with our past. In the end, we have the power to allow ourselves to be freed.

I also need to give a huge shout out to Richard Gadd for his bravery in telling his story, as well as his remarkable story telling. Sometimes an amazing piece of art comes from a very dark place, and he certainly did turn his tragedy into something worth appreciating. Something we can all learn from.

I’ll give this series a 5/5 stars

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#series review #netflix #baby reindeer #Eden’s Review

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tabortrillion · 1 year

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Listeners, I bring you News. That is the main duty of my job. Bringing you News. But, I hope I also bring you happiness, however brief that may last. I’m not greedy. I don’t expect to be your only source of happiness. But I do hope to be among the list of things that may bring fleeting smiles to your strained, tear-soaked faces. I hope I bring you comfort on horrible, blood-curdling, panic-inducing days such as this one.

I wanted to start the broadcast today with these pleasantries since the News I bring you today may be hard to swallow. As the saying goes, “A spoon full of sugar is the only way to annihilate the throat spiders. Pour sugar down your gullet. Quick!”

I hate to be the one to bring to light such tragedy to the attention of all my fellow friends and neighbors, but the alarm must be sound. Today is the day we must barricade ourselves in our homes, hide under our covers in the childish hope that those cozy, homemade sheets will be enough to stop the dreaded monster that will be emerging from its bone riddled layer seeking only blood and destruction. Only after it wreaks as much havoc as will please its horrid, blackened heart, will we be allowed to know if winter stays or goes.

Citizens today is GROUNDHOG DAY

Shut yourselves away in the questionable safety of your homes, while I, dutifully positioned at the radio station, keep you updated.

Let’s continue on to a new and more positive segment of the broadcast: Mental Health Advice. Here in the studio with me is Barb, a member of the Sentient Cacti Association for Mental Health. Barb, we’ve gotten a lot of questions from struggling students whose mental health is slipping because of bullies. What advice do you have for our pained youths?

BARB: Well Cecil, all of us with the Sentient Cacti Association for Mental Health have noticed this rising issue and have come up with a solution. We believe every child needs positive emotional support in order to sprout healthily. These bullies were not given that nourishment and so have rotten roots. Our plan is simple. Kids, if you are being bullied, listen closely; this is what you need to do: Challenge your bully to a duel out in the desert wastelands outside of town. Violence is their language so you must use it to get their attention, but don’t worry. You will not have to follow through with this. We will be there to ambush- Er, I mean.. surprise them with all the emotional support they were deprived. We will wrap our arms around them and hold them tight to us, whispering in their ear that their friend (that would be you) love them and care for them and hope they benefit from this therapeutic treatment. In our warm, heart-felt, bloody embrace, they will surely realize what a delight you truly are and that you are not to be messed with ever again because you have friends out in the wastelands where no one could hear your enemies scream. Which of course they wouldn’t - why would they? - it’s only a hug. Hugs make everything better.

Wow, thank you Barb! That was some great advice.

And here is some more advice for you, Listeners. HIDE. Crawl under your beds, retreat to the back of your closets, lock yourselves in your bathrooms, for the GROUNDHOG has emerged and is tearing through the streets. I am speaking to you from under my desk, and I will continue to update you on this horrible event as it plays out. For now, though, let’s hear a word from our sponsor.

You wake up in the middle of the night ravenous, stomach yowling. The churning in your gut hauls you out of bed and pulls you like a magnet to the kitchen. You fling yourself at the refrigerator and tear the door off its hinges only to find cold air and empty shelves. You move through the rest of the room like a hurricane, flinging open every cabinet looking for sustenance but coming up empty handed again and again. Just when you think you may perish from this intense hunger, your doorbell rings. On your doorstep is a box. You tear it open on the spot and plunge your hands into the still warm viscera inside. And you feast. Sounds like you have a subscription to Hello, Fresh… HELLO, FRESH! We only send the freshest ingredients.

Listeners, the GROUNDHOG has annihilated the barista district, tore through John Peters (you know, the farmer?)’s invisible corn field, and has rampaged through our streets. I hear it now, snuffling around outside the studio. Its horrifying shadow is stretched across the ceiling. As I cower under my desk and pray to the almighty glow cloud for protection against this evil, I will send you to the weather.

Listeners, fellow citizens, friends, we can now breathe easy. The detestable, vile GROUNDHOG has grown tired of death and destruction and has slunk back to its underground lair. We are safe for another year. And, it seems, this monster that plagues us and controls the changing of the seasons has in fact shown a bit of mercy as its final, ear-piercing screech was a declaration of the end of winter. As we begin to prepare ourselves for the arrival of spring, let us shed the terror of this day and appreciate the feeling of the sun on our skin and the smell of fresh life on the breeze. And as we all stand together in the sunlight, let us appreciate each other and this wonderful, beautiful community. I will always appreciate each and every one of you, my dear listeners. I hope you all rest easy tonight knowing this darkness is behind us and that there is only growth ahead for all of us. Goodnight, Nightvale, goodnight.

#original writing #welcome to night vale #fan writing #amillienbooks

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eflorescent · 2 years

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cassandra 002 .

she allows the sun to envision her suffering , to hold her ache like a mother during the daylight . she allows the night to become this blatant shield over her face , takes the sun’s absence as this moon - washed relief hiding in the night sky . her father in the day holds both two faces & a sweet mouth ; he is a brutal man in the nightlight of flickering stars in the overhead . however unchanging , however displaced , she’s always ached the way her father would speak ——— all enveloping & full . but he looks at her both in a way that she is there & she isn’t . she was never her father’s daughter , never the preacher son he broke his skin open for & never the girl who fed him her bread & wine . this family is a mock play , full of green - screen sets & theatre moments . this hope within her hopelessness draws itself as a mother with her arms stretched out yet no arms , no hands , no mouth , no face . no heart for her daughter , no eyes for her daughter’s father . to say her father beckons her closely with his grip made to be around her throat , he is a jewel thief & the greatest shatterer of gardens made of glass . ( i mean to say that the only thing he knows how to do is to want to break me the way my mother broke herself . i mean to say that god cradles my father’s body like a golden boy full of saints & lesser - woes , yet i am the dirtied wench that sullies his blinding light . what i mean to say is that there was never enough room in his life for me or my mother , women with their chests split open the way warriors coming home partaking in feast & spoils . )

Q . WHERE IS MY GOD WHEN I STAND IN THE HUNGERING LAUGHTER THAT ECHOS FROM THE STREETS TO MY STOMACH ? where is my god when my heart opens up my skin the way a knife sharpens itself into the sweet flesh of a pear ? love becomes like both life & religion the way that my head bows in silence ; i wouldn’t know , but my mother gave me scorned lessons in the way men would cut you open & leave you in the field to wash out in the rain or fill with the dirt they have underneath their nails . my father says love is like this : it’ll always be coming home to an empty bed because no one will ever sleep with you .

while pure daylight is unfair , the moon - washed expanse of the night , the fire blazed streets of the street lining , she thinks the nighttime to be this whole other creature that wouldn’t want her no matter the circumstances . & it’s never truly all the nighttime , never truly all the moonlight ; her body is the unfinished answer to the weeping cries of a repeated sequence . jeong gnaws at herself the way her father does to her , taking every piece that he could find & corrupting her everything so no one else would want it . even god . EVEN GOD . & she’s a person full of self - restraint , this girl everyone wants to call brave yet she must consider every option this curse , just as she lives like a curse . both holy ground & holy name , to call a girl brave must mean she will die for you . to call a women brave must mean she will give everything to you . this restraint she holds in her mouth locks back between her teeth , clay grabbing at the always unopened inner temple of her mouth ; these moments are raptures that leave her at the ground like the fool of a man who bares his teeth .

& even in this dispersed light , she’s open - handed & waiting for the barest of breath , ducking back between loud songs & smiling people . call this the next open - throat casualty , the next bleeding - tongue tragedy ; it becomes violence that becomes never - ending that becomes a cycle carved to the small of her back . her snapped & broken , a reminder of her eyes that never spell tragedy the way her mouth should ; these days , her hands shake when she isn’t with her father & when she isn’t assumed a present to the jewels of july . could she know anyone else as the sweet stains of her hands , know anyone else as the sweet syrup coating her tongue ; god colors her green with guilt , blue with the empathy that rushes through her when her ribcage rattles the way her heart speaks . she knows no question with an answer that forces itself into her hands , that bites at her the way her decisions do . she could go without knowing herself , but the evidence of pears lie littered at her feet ; flowers fit between the bones of her back , & she is spineless to nights .

#˚ ʚɞ ˚ ࿐ 𝒞𝒜𝒮𝒮𝒜𝒩𝒟𝑅𝒜 . ༄ ꒰ lifetime 01 .#˚ ʚɞ ˚ ࿐ 𝒞𝒜𝒮𝒮𝒜𝒩𝒟𝑅𝒜 . ༄ ꒰ route 01 .#˚ ʚɞ ˚ ࿐ 𝒞𝒜𝒮𝒮𝒜𝒩𝒟𝑅𝒜 . ༄ ꒰ prose .#˚ ʚɞ ˚ ࿐ 𝒮𝒫𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒦𝐿𝐸 . ༄ ꒰ drabbles .#˚ ʚɞ ˚ ࿐ 𝒞𝒜𝒮𝒮𝒜𝒩𝒟𝑅𝒜 . ༄ ꒰ connection Ꮺ 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚂 .

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shae-la-hyene · 3 years

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Top 10 best animated movies sad songs

I'm a hurt fan and I'll never pretend to be anything else.

Some moments or songs break your heart and that's why you love them. Because it slithered so deep into your heart you forgot if you allowed it.

Judged on 'it made me cry the first time I saw it' and 'I listen to it in a loop when I'm depressed' and 'fuck why can I relate so much ?'

10 Remember me

I generally don't like the most recent disneys. I hate the computer animation and would kill to have them go back to drawings. But Coco's emotional journey and message is pretty good. Remember me speaks of the deep rooted wish of humans to be remembered and leave a trace of themselves in the world. Be it to a lover, a child, a friend, they bed for that love not to disappear with them. It's the latest 'Goodbye my lover' or 'Someone like you' : the perfect song to play at a funeral, or when the pain of losing someone is so strong you can't breathe. Today we are separated, and I am so sorry for that. But my heart will continue reaching for you in the dark. Will yours do the same for me ?

What is grief if not love persevering, really ?

9 I'm still here

This one hit close to home, guys... I'm still here is heartbreaking. Remember being a neglected kid ? Remember all those years where the adults you were supposed to trust and respect just... let you down ? Remember every single time someone thought they knew everything there is to know about you, without ever caring to ask ? Remember being a teenager and struggling to believe there was a place, a tiny bit of room, somewhere, that would allow you to exist ? Not knowing who you wanted to be because you didn't believe anyone would ever be there to like whatever you could become ? Remember asking yourself if fighting all your life for a respect you know, deep down, you'll never get, is worth it ? Remember trying to love yourself while everybody was overlooking you or decided you were disappointing ? Remember looking at the entirety of the sky and realize that... it doesn't truly matter, that you don't truly matter anyway ? Remember seeing every perfect person around you getting praised for the littlest things when you never had the same chances to start with ?

Yep. This is it. It's hard to look to the future when the future looks like shit.

8 Someone's waiting for you

This song is maybe the first song I properly acknowledged as a sad song, when I was very very little and didn't know what emotions were.

It says 'this shall pass. I know today sucked. I know the world is against you. But eventually, it'll pass, and life will change because everything change all the time.' And I think I needed that often, in my childhood. When crying myself to sleep I tried to remember... life will go on and yes, today sucked and life sucks right now and you're sad and you're right to be sad and angry and feel empty and bitter. But eventually, life will change and eventually, even if life keep sucking in different ways, you will find someone who is willing to share it with you and it'll make it suck a little less.

When that come, another little one will be blue and you won't be able to do anything for them except telling them 'this shall pass, one day you'll have someone standing by your side to make you happy. Not today. But one day.'

7 Heaven's light

I know. Heaven's light is so full of hope and pure love and tenderness and happiness, why does it even belong in that list ? Well. Because Quasimodo always knew Heaven's light was never meant to be for him. That his face was too hideous. That Esmeralda was never going to love him back. He just allowed himself, for a second, the illusion that she cared for him. Being in love feels amazing, and he focuses on that, knowing the illusion would fall apart when he isn't loved back. Quasimodo's greatest tragedy was to be unloved, Heaven's light is him dreaming of having what everybody else seems to have, knowing well that this dreams would be crushed by the world the second he opened his eyes. I wish he was wrong...

6 Reflection

THE trans song. The dysphoria is strong in this one.

Not me listening to it obsessively before even realizing I'm queer and my family frowning because they didn't understand why I felt it so much. The same family that doesn't see anything wrong with the part they expect us to play, not understanding the deep uneasiness that goes with realizing you can never be someone they'll respect.

Molds and boxes and roles are so wrong, because you can never truly fit them. And, in all of that, not even thinking about everybody you disappointing by not being who you're supposed to be... There is the small matter of disappointing yourself by not being who you wish to be. Queer disney writers were good at making it all about queerness in ways that cishets can't even see, that's for sure.

5 Wherever you are

Genuinely heartbreaking. Because if Pooh is sad, the whole world is wrong of betraying him. He's lost, he's scared and alone and... He's on the edge of giving up and losing all hope and he needs you, where are you ? How dare you abandoning him ? Pooh is too precious and innocent for this to be even remotely okay. You can't break that pure a heart, that's the worse crime ever. Where are you ?

And yet every time I feel lost and lonely, and on the edge of losing hope, every time I wish my loved ones were there to reassure me and tell me what to do, I look at the sky and I think of Pooh that wanted to give up, dreaming and sending his love to the void. I listen to it, again and again, and I think of my loved ones who felt the same, and I try to hope again as I cry myself to sleep. In the french version, he doesn't address Christopher Robin. He addresses the moon and his lucky star, call them 'his lights of hope'. The sky is the full of the same stars we all wished to. Even if we don't always see them.

4 No way out

The cruel reality caught up with them both in that song. And no amount of regret and guilt could make it better. There is no way to soften the blow of telling a little kid that you killed his mother. There's no way to make it better, you just have to say it and know he's going to be shattered. Kinai is faced to the reality of his own actions and the consequences of them. Aware of the hurt and pain he created. He is finally realizing the bad choices he made and why they were wrong. He's finally learning the lesson the spirits were trying to teach him. You can't wipe out tears you caused. You can't bring back those you killed. And no matter how much you suffer from that reality, you are so so aware that it's so little compared to his. And it's all your fault. Growing up hurts. Especially like that.

3 Baby mine

There is no greater love than the one a mother can have for their child. There is no greater pain than when that love gets lost. And when Dumbo only sees the lullaby and the simple joy of being with his mother, cared for a loved, we can only see the bars keeping them apart. We only see his mother stealing a fragile moment to keep the pretense that she can protect her baby from the cruel world waiting for them both. A fleeting moment to pour all the love she has for her little baby in a song and a cuddle before parting, maybe forever. The love is overwhelming and immense but the cage is closed and the cruel people are already marching on them, and soon there won't be time for love anymore.

I love, baby, I wish I could have protected you more.

2 Sound the bugle

Almost made it to the first place, not gonna lie...

It's the song I keep in a loop for when I truly did give up and I'm just tired and don't want to keep going. It speaks of defeat, of being beaten up and finally admitting you weren't made to weather all of that because you weren't supposed to. The world wasn't supposed to be that cruel and you... couldn't fight it forever. It's a suicide song. The split moment when you just... give up. You want to leave, you want to stop existing, you give in. Being defeated by a cruel world leaves a hollow feeling in your chest, a deep sated bitterness that will never truly leave.

And even if you manage to find the strength to start fighting again... Well it won't erase the fact that you weren't supposed to have to fight that hard, ever.

Honorable mentions

When you believe, because it's half sad half hopeful. It had taken a hard fight, with a lot of sacrifices that will always sit in your heart. But, after so long fighting and suffering and ignoring the pain, you did it. You're free. It had an impossible cost, but you did win.

On my way, because it reads as a suicide song SO easily.

Do you wanna build a snowman : how many times, really, will you try something and hope for a different outcome, before finally giving up ?

Deliver us' lullaby : another mother seeing her baby leave, hoping for the best because there's nothing else to hang on to. Fleeting, foolish hope, because they know the world is cruel and they won't be able to protect their baby anymore. And still she loves, so still she hopes.

1 Not in Nottingham

The country style that all Robin Hood's songs is drenched in can't hide the fact that this is by far the saddest song of all animated movies. At least in my opinion but those posts are all about my opinion, aren't they ?

This song just... nails it. Stripped sadness to its barest bones. You wish to believe there is something you can do, but you know there's not. It's not even personal. It's just... how things are. And that's unfair, and you can't do anything about it, and it makes you so miserable and hopeless and exhausted. Why is that so ? Why is this situation so unfair and miserable and cruel ? Why couldn't you just be happy ? Why couldn't the world be fair ? Why is it always bad, why can't you have good things, sometimes ? Why ?

The world sucks and sometimes you're just... stuck somewhere where you know nothing good can happen.

The world sucks, especially in Nottingham.

Also see : Top ten Villain songs, Top ten sad songs, Top ten romantic songs, Top ten intros that slap, Top ten pretty songs, Top ten not-that-bad sequel, Top ten worse sequels, Top five terrifying villains

#disney #disney movies #disney songs #sad songs #to watch #msmojo #robin hood #spirit the stallion of the cimarron #brother bear #the prince of egypt #frozen #bambi #mulan #winnie the pooh #coco #the rescuers #the hunchback of notre dame #the treasure planet

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dailytatsu · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw request were open so i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of the Archons and/or the Adepti meeting a God reader who is the God of Chaos and destruction. The reader is not a Archon tho and travels all over Teyvat cuz small bits of destruction were ever they go. They're pretty mischievous and somewhat smug but despite how they act they're actually a good person. They dont mean to cause problems(most of the time anyways) chaos follows them were ever they go. Idk if you have a character limit but if you do please tell me so i wont make a mistake again. And if there is you can just do Zhongli and Xiao. Optionally could you make them a dendro user, there not a lot of dendro content and if not thats fine. I understand. Could you make the reader Gn or Non-binary they/them pronouns please? If not male reader is totally fine. Im so sorry for the long post and I hope you have a good day/night!

Ohmy, it’s my first time just writing headcanons! I’m use to write a lot, so let’s hope I did it right (^ ^' )7

Thanks for the request! ✨

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[HC] God of Chaos! Reader and the Archons + Xiao

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Venti, Shogun Raiden (Ei).

Gn! Reader

I tried doing it with everyone but I’m no still that confident to try writing with some characters ＿|￣|○

Sorry for any mistakes!

Request are open!

Genshin Masterlist

Second part ->

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VENTI

To be honest, he didn't notice your presence at first. He had other concerns on his mind that day to perceive the chaotic (and slightly threatening) aura that Mondstadt was infected with that day.

Barbatos is a person of habit, so he couldn't help but be curious when the crowd in front of him began to look a little agitated instead of seeming to enjoy his lyre and his songs.

But then a series of domino events appeared in front of his very eyes.

The purity of the chaos was such that he felt overwhelmed, even without the white-haired boy around, if it wasn’t Bennett fault, then how was it possible for everything to be ruined in such a short time?

His patience ended when, out of nowhere, the strings of his lyre jumped close to his face as they snapped. Making that awful noise that couldn’t mean nothing good.

Okay, enough, who is messing around in here? No more joking in his nation!

He concentrated a little, a faint but unique presence kept his nerves on edge, as if he was being watched from afar. He moved away from the busy areas and then chased that ephemeral energy to the highest point of the church, where the bells were ringing in an irregular and stressful way.

Then he found you. Snoozing against one of the columns, somewhat tired because the trip you made to reach Mondstadt.

Surprisingly, Barbatos understood you since the first exchange of words. A god of chaos who was also a free spirit, you followed no rules ever written in Teyvat, and you had no plans to apologize for the mess you made.

Both of you were Zhongli’s worst nightmare, but that’s another story.

He managed to through your arrogance and your teasing nature that you, in fact, were a lonely spirit that liked to witness the life from above of everyone.

The difference between teasing someone accidentally and committing a crime was really visible, but he still couldn't help but feel like he should scold you after your mere presence messed up with the guild's baskets full of fish.

But hey! He also enjoy the company! Venti tried to teach you how to enjoy the calm and the whisper of wind, music can also contain chaos, feelings, old stories waiting to be told again, expressions and desire united, in a wonderful piece of-

As you yawned his lyre broke up again. Making clear the message.

Okay, not even God of Freedom and Wind can control chaos. Anyways, what a tragedy, but there’s nothing a simple bard can do, smh.

“Do you like kids, don’t you?” He said once, after a nice day of hearing him sing before your chaos reached his little concert. Again watching everyone from above on the hands of the statue, with your attention caught by some kids playing tag.

“… I don’t know what do you mean.” Once discovered you had no choice but to remain defensive, pretending to be disinterested.

“Heh, you aren’t a good liar.” It may not be the wisest thing to make fun of someone who could destroy the place where you were resting, but Venti was confident that he knew you well enough to know that you were not so explosive. “You know!, I just have some pieces, but I think it’s because they are little walking concentrations of pure and innocent chaos, am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, no at all. But you would never confess something that embarrassing.

This guy wrote a ballad about the days when Mondstadt got immerse with that strike of bad luck. Kind of an apology of not being able to handle the situation.

Now there’s the rumor that says that, every time somebody sings that song, something unlucky will happen in front of you.

The song is cursed.

One night when the moon was shining on the Cider Lake his well tuned ears distinguished a melody that was broken from time to time by the accidents of his performer, distracting him of his way to look for you.

It could be painful to listen to, but Venti could certainly feel the dedication of the one who was playing the imperfect song.

The ballad of the god of chaos, hummed like a lullaby that instead of making you sleep makes you question the events of the day. Wishing for the slightest thing to be different after an exhaustive week of peace and tranquility.

A lonely spirits cursing their existence, sitting in the highest point of a stranger’s palace, where you can reach the sky by only rising your hand.

The next day, Barbatos invited you to drink some wine, this time near Windrise to avoid accidents in the city.

As he almost dropped the bottle when a lot of slimes were attracted by your presence, he confirmed the theory about that the way to spend time with you would not be his personal definition of hanging out.

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ZHONGLI

Okay, there’s only two scenarios that could happened when you set a foot in Liyue.

Old man has a soft spot for you for being a relative young deity.

Or he’s always lecturing you for not having control of your aura and powers.

How u dare bringing chaos to the nation of order? It’s that a death wish?

Jokes aside, you’re not really a threat. And he could sense that after he saw how you tried to avoid having direct contact with the city. Rex Lapis found your silhouette jumping and crossing through the mountains until reaching the fairest point that allowed you to enjoy the view of the streets that were filled with life and light as the sunsets.

He even noticed how you sighed in frustration when a storm started out of nowhere. A rain dedicated just for the arriving of the God of Chaos. Not even bothering of getting shield, you stayed in your place to look at all the people who were getting back to their places.

The rain seemed to stop over your head, for a second was enough to stop you from being cruelly swamped by the very weather you had created. An elegant umbrella covered you, the long awaited surprise you expected from someone as outdated as Morax.

You looked up, and found his expression calm and attentive, watching you. As if he had made a great discovery that he could not believe

“May I have a moment of your time to keep you company? Letting out your sorrows in the middle of a torrential storm is not what I would recommend as way to spend a good day.”

“… What are you talking about? Get in your own business, old man.”

“Well, you should know that a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

Next time you knew was that he was helping you to dry your hair with a towel once you let him guide you to his place.

Zhongli picked you up like a abandoned cat that day. Even if having you near meant to deal with new the roof leaks.

Also kept you away from Hu Tao, if you two ever get along for being partners in crime he would seal himself underground-

For all the time you spend exploring Liyue, there he was. Like a little kid showing his treasures. But also like a worried father looking after his child for them not to stumble making their first steps.

Look at you! Almost crushing those Treasure Hoarders when a bunch of rocks fell down after you jumped at the edge of the cliff.

Wait, no- come back here! You should verify the surroundings and be aware of the weight of your power if you’re going to explore in that bold way. You, chaotic brat.

Another one who believed fervently that your mood was to blame for the constant chaos you caused. He also tried to show you the wonders of peace and calm, teaching you how to prepare tea while listening to the storyteller (also both being a little far away from the rest of them, just in case).

He couldn’t help but sigh when the teapot arm broke as soon as you tried to serve the tea. What a waste, he thought.

You apologized to him, kind of stressed with yourself after you took all the pieces with your bare hands to run away with them. Leaving a confused Zhongli behind.

Next day you were back, with the teapot repaired and just like new.

He let out a lot of thankful words, some flattering and a lot more cheesy things that you never had received before.

With that unexpected affection you couldn’t help but react flustered; then a cat that was chasing a bird jumped through a lot of decorations and merchandise, almost starting a fire as the chained events kept going.

Yeah,, uh, Zhongli got some useful mental notes about you and your chaos that day.

Hey, before you go, want to make a contract? You won’t regret it!

But as the wandering spirit you were you had no problems in reject his offer, but also promising that you would visit Liyue if he wanted you to.

Of course he wanted! But.. maybe next time you should stay in Huaguang Stone Forest instead of roaming near the city,,

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XIAO

Tried to kill you.

I mean, your aura is threatening and full of a destructive energy, how is possible that you weren’t a demon to eradicate??

Sorry, but he had a point.

Your first met was on your way to reach Huaguang Stone Forest along with Zhongli for introduce you with the Adeptus.

Xiao, in the other side, thought that you were about to attack Morax from behind, so he just struck against you. With his polearm near to go through your chest, just stopped because you felt him before.

Lifting your hand at his direction, summoning chaos, this time, on purpose. The wind gained a wrathful nature and the biggest roots that were hiding under his feet rose to caught him.

And when you were about to hit each other Zhongli’s shield appeared just in time to separate both of you. Preventing a real catastrophic event.

Now stop fighting and introduce to each other.

Nice(n’t) to meet u.

What if you tried to awake Azhdaha to bring chaos and destruction to Liyue? What if you wanted to summoned Osial? What if… ?

Zhongli had to confirm and promise to him that those cruel possibilities won’t be a near future for respecting the real reason of your travel.

No matter if he wasn’t comfortable with your presence, it wasn’t his decision to allow you to roam freely, so he had to get use to it.

He immediately knew after hearing about your nature that was your fault that lately there were a lot more demons and monsters. Even his karma was getting more painful than usual.

(If you ever meet Hu Tao, please think twice before doing Xiao a prank)

You both didn’t interact a lot, and being honest, it was better that way.

He hadn’t a single intention of talking with you again until the day you were practicing the song that your Anemo friend taught you. By the other hand, Xiao noticed that the melody had the same nature as the one he once heard before being consumed by the karma.

It wasn’t a flute, but a worn lyre that was still in one piece after weeks of being repaired again and again.

“That song… ”

“Do you know it?” Xiao just nodded, staying in silence, being your very first audience even if you still have a lot to learn about playing a lyre.

It wasn’t as effective as the original, but was still… nice, kind of nostalgic.

Next morning, the Yaksha called for you. Made you stay still in the middle of a plain and then he disappeared of your sight.

He abandoned y- wait, what’s that? Why those monsters has that weird dark aura?

You were about to defend yourself until Xiao appeared back just in time to defeat them.

That day you became his personal bait for demons and monsters. Naturally you attracted chaos, so anyway you were, there will be also something to fight.

I guess this is your way to pay for all the troubles you made for him and his duty, so no complaining about it.

If you ask for a unexpected experience to Ganyu she would said that once she found both of you fighting along against the catastrophe, looking after each other’s back and almost having a perfect synchrony.

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SHOGUN RAIDEN; EI

Also tried to kill you.

Well, the puppet tried to.

And then Ei tried when you had the opportunity of facing her.

But since killing a god just mean the releasing of a lot, pure, energy she couldn’t afford that risk, much less considering your “speciality”.

Who knows what would happen to Inazuma if your vital energy burst across the nation. Just like that old story about Sal Terrae and their goddess.

She just defeated you. Letting you rest and recovering in the midst of the plane of her reality within her mind. Your inert body in the middle of the battlefield as she kept meditating.

When you woke up she ignored your presence, but also denying your complaints about letting you go out back.

In her words, you were a burden, another enemy of eternity. Something as unpredictable as you and your “accidents” couldn’t get along with her utopia.

Ei could banish you from Inazuma, but she knows your type. Stubborn and not accepting the most simple orders to obey.

She knew that you would found a way to be back.

It’s better like this.

And in the hypothetical case of you being freed when she trapped the traveler (kicking you out) and then having a chance to see her again after the end of the war, then things would be somewhat different.

There’s not that much of civilization on some islands, so she allowed you to explore as much as your heart wanted. But if something serious happen, she promised that would end her work in the middle of the sea so your remains never be found.

Okay, message clear. Just do chaos near monsters and bandits, got it,,

Even if she wanted to spend some time with you and telling you some stories about Inazuma and other gods she couldn’t found the right time to call you at her presence.

As the current ruler of Inazuma she was busier than the rest of Archons you have meet. Maybe just some letters now and then like a way to keep a logbook, but not really a face to face talk.

Until she got the opportunity of a day off, just to found you messing around near some ruins. Trying to solve a puzzle before your speciality strikes in. The structure fell down after your fingertips reached the stone.

When the dust dissipated, you discovered her figure judging you from the other side of the remain ruins.

Give her a good reason for not errase you from the map, I dare u.

You felt the worst was about to come when Ei ordered you to follow her after a long sigh. Crossing her arms and starting to walk away from the bunch of old and worn rock.

Plot Twist, she actually invited you to rest under a tree, asking in her serene voice the reason for your journey and your origin. In such a direct way that it seemed more like a sentence than a talk to get to know each other better.

You answered what you could remember and then the silence stayed like the only way of interaction between you two.

Ohno, you know this pattern. Something’s about to happen-

“There is some strange beauty in the chaos, it may be the calm after the storm, but the catastrophe itself is seen as a necessary evil to appreciate the stillness. How much it would last until the lighting hit the valley?”

“So I arrived to keep order between the humans?”

Well yes, but actually no.

“… You see, if there is nothing but order and a lack of problems, mortals are likely to create them on their own. Their minds feels the need to be tested, to prove their worth, so I guess some of your chaos may be part of the history.”

“… then shall we take a walk in Inazuma?” You did not know if you were right, but you thought you saw a faint smile through his lips in the same way that lightning can be seen in the sky.

“I’ll allow it.” She said.

Her only condition was for you not to approach the huge boxes of fireworks down the street.

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marwankenzarisgaylittleearring · 3 years

Photo

“I’d like to end up as a tree”

Marwan kenzari (31) won a gold calf last year for his role in the movie Wolf. As of next week he is to be seen in Bloedlink (/reckless), opening’s act of the Dutch film festival. “It’s not my place to say I’m good.”

Bloedlink

“Acting offers the chance to become well acquainted with the complexities of being human. The Moroccan kick-boxer Majid in the movie Wolf had a fascinating interior life. His character was even easier to understand when he said nothing at all - I don’t think I’ve ever had as little lines in a movie. Rico in Bloedlink is completely different. He accidentally finds himself swept up in criminal business, but he’s actually just someone who’s had a whole slew of bad luck. In the movie his character undergoes a few very surprising U-turns. In my portrayal of him, I interpret all those different sides as honest, I find that interesting. In the movie, Rico does some paradoxical things, but he means all of them. Of course that’s simply not possible. That’s what makes him fascinating and tragic.”

Journey

“If I’m a good actor? That’s not my place to say. Sometimes you do the most interesting things you think are worthless in the moment. A movie is a collaborative journey, which, in the case of Wolf, I underwent with director Jim Taihuttu among others. Although I secretly did think during shooting: this will be fun. Wolf is an honest movie. The kick-boxing, the hits to the body, very little of that is pretend. Not that everything should be real in a movie, but this story required that. At a certain point I felt: this could be something really fresh in Dutch cinema. And it was.”

Peanut Butter

“Ever since that role, which I trained for quite extensively, I’ve found it increasingly important to stay in shape. It wasn’t a complete transformation; even beforehand I would exercise six times a week. But now I’m slightly addicted, yeah. It makes you mentally stronger, too. If I’ve been training on a Sunday at 7 am and then at 8 am I’m outside again, showered, refreshed and in shape while the rest of the city’s asleep, I’m 1-0 ahead. Scratch that: 10-0. I pay attention to my nutrition as well. Bread for example gives false energy. But I’m not always so strict. I get plenty of enjoyment from a good, white slice of bread with calvé peanut butter. And then fold it over, don’t cut it! You shouldn’t cut a sandwich, everyone knows that. Then you miss the first bite.”

Toneelgroep Amsterdam

“After the acting academy in Maastricht I was immediately invited to Toneelgroep Amsterdam. I was with them for three years, but found my attentions pulled towards film during that period. When the actors from TGA are - rightfully - expected to be fully available. We “broke up”, though that sounds too serious, with full, mutual agreement. I see the company as family and will be playing in Angels in America at the end of the month, in New York. Director Ivo van Hove has been very important for my development. I admire his knowing exactly what he wants, but also his ability to be unsure and searching, and to be able to be vulnerable about that. But I have to be fair to myself. I’m 31 now, and these are my most important years in film. While I hope to be an even better stage-actor when I’m fifty. I’m slightly further ahead in film than on stage. That development is tougher, needs more time and possibly total dedication. Stage is the motor in the actor’s car; film is a different muscle. But if Ivo calls me in two, or ten or forty years, he’ll be the first stage director I’ll say yes to.”

Pierre Bokma

“As the son of Tunisian parents in the Hague painters-quarter I didn’t come into automatic contact with theatre. As a kid I was mostly interested in football, the emotion you see on a player’s face when he scores - fantastic. At a certain point I realised that movies can affect you the same way, even though you know it’s fake. That’s the magic of acting. Through contacts I ended up with De Nieuwe Amsterdam, an in-between theatre course for teens for whom the leap to theatre school was perhaps a bit too big. I learned everything there: playwrights, Dutch actors, repertoire. You’re also taught which acting schools exist. And I thought: where did Pierre Bokma go to school? And Fedja van Huêt? That was Maastricht. It also appealed to me that they implemented Bijltjesdag: you might still be sent away halfway through the first year. I decided: if I’m going for this uncertain profession, maybe the best trial by fire will be going to a school where you aren’t sure if you’ll be allowed to stay. I was allowed, in the end. At the theatre academy I came into contact with art, philosophy, poetry. All of that was new. But it didn’t feel as if I was behind, I only saw it as a fantastic source of riches; as if I could try on all sorts of new glasses.”

Huntersfamily

“I never thought that this path wasn’t laid out for me, I just always let myself be lead by my passion and my dreams. My parents are happy for me; I have a good connection with both. My father is an amazing person - an accumulation of beautiful ingredients. He’s honest with himself, doesn’t spare himself and laughs a lot, that’s important to me. He might be made out of simple components, he’s from a huntersfamily, but for me these are the components that build a strong character. My dad can tell beautiful stories, about his life in Tunisia, about his old friends who aren’t with us anymore. Every year death takes someone new, and in that way a beautiful group of people slowly disappears, the protagonists of a generation. One lives close to the elements there, I find that fascinating. It’s so different to our life here. I’ll also never interrupt my dad when he starts on a story like that. Even if I’ve heard it before.”

Vampire

“I’ve always said: I want to play a woman, a vampire, a Moroccan kick-boxer. I’ve succeeded in doing the last one. A vampire is a wonderful character. The beauty of their faces, the sensuality, the tragedy of never going outside during the day, and of course their never ageing; never dying, in fact. I’d like to never die. When I was a kid, I suffered a lot of nightmares. About falling and never landing. I had a hard time in the dream world, I wasn’t a big fan of night. It was, I think, a sort of inexplicable fear of dying. At a certain moment I grew familiar with those dreams, figured out how to influence them. I could for all intents and purposes check-out whenever it became scary. I became the director of my own dream world. When I was twelve, I fell in love, and then I was over it. I still have nightmares, like everyone else, but now I find them fascinating instead of threatening. Beautiful how your mind can make a story out of all sorts of ingredients. Sometimes I call my mother to talk about what a dream might mean. For example, I recently dreamt about my grandmother. ‘She thinks about you and loves you,’ my mother says.”

Tree

“I still know fear and uncertainty, but they don’t hinder me anymore. They’re two trusted companions now, who walk with me. They keep me sharp and hungry, and in a good way, they keep me on my toes. As long as they don’t hold me back, they can be here. Fear of dying is now simply fear of no longer living. If a way to live until you’re 377 is discovered tomorrow, I’ll be the first to sign up. I’d like to end up as a tree. Then you only need to have a care for wind, rain and sun.”

#anon come get ur interview !!! translated this first one & i'll get to work on the other ones for u mwah mwah #marwan kenzari #i also will be honest that i do not know if 'moroccan' is supposed to be capitalised i thought it was but if its not thats on me #idk how else to tag this. also i love him. also i love doing translation work bc sometimes it does not work out but usually it just allows #me to flaunt the nuance of language i guess #translation*#starting a collection ladies

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bluejay-writes · 3 years

Text

Writer's Block

This is a fic that I have written for the gift exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary.

This lovely little fic is for Yozzie (@ikeromantic). I hope it brings you joy.

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Rated: T (for kisses and implied antics)

Pairing: Shakespeare x Vincent

Wordcount: 1612

AO3 link

“And where are you off to this afternoon, Brother?” Theo said, looking up from his chess game with Arthur.

“Dinner in town with Will, just as I told you yesterday.” Vincent said, turning his sunshine smile on his younger brother.

“Mind yourself around that one, I don’t trust him.” Theo said, grumbling.

“Don’t you worry. I can take care of myself these days. Don’t wait up, if it gets too late, I may simply stay in his guest room.”

“Stay out of the man’s bed, Vincent.”

“Why would I use his bed? He has a guest room, and I’d sooner come home late than make Will sleep on his own floor.” Vincent turned a confused look on his brother, while Arthur stifled his laughter.

“Nevermind, just be safe.” Theo said, turning his glare on Arthur who himself was turning an interesting shade of red.

“Of course.” Vincent said, and headed out to the waiting carriage.

Theo continued to mutter under his breath, but didn’t try to stop his brother from leaving. That was, of course, how it always was with Theo. He was distrustful of Will, simply due to his decision to live apart from the rest of the manor. Vincent didn’t see a problem, really, the playwright just wanted to be near the theatre district, rather than needing to take a carriage into town every time. If it weren’t for the views and the fresh air that the Manor provided, (and his brother, to be entirely honest), Vincent would love living in the city. Being closer to his best friend would simply be a bonus.

As the carriage arrived at Shakespeare’s home, Vincent had a moment of pause. He’d not really considered his brother’s words previously, because he trusted Will, had had seen no reason to shake that trust, but his feelings for his friend tended to run deeper than simple friendship could explain, not that he himself could put words to the phenomenon he was experiencing.

——

Dinner was lovely, and the wine took the edge off of the unexplained anxiety that Vincent was feeling, allowing him to be more relaxed than he’d managed the last few times he’d visited Shakespeare for tea.

“Vincent, are you quite alright? Your cheeks have a flush to them that is unusual for you.” Shakespeare said, and Vincent reached up absentmindedly to touch his own cheek.

“Ah. That’s probably the wine.” He said, and then thought to himself, Or your company.

Shakespeare cleared his throat, and Vincent looked up to see that the man was offering him a hand.

“Shall we adjourn to the parlor for a nightcap before I send you back to the manor?”

“Certainly.” Vincent placed his hand in his friend’s, and allowed him to be led into the more comfortable parlor, where he relaxed onto a sofa while Shakespeare got them brandy.

“Will, I’d love to hear more about your current play. You said it was a romance?”

Shakespeare chuckled, handing Vincent a glass before settling next to him.

“Ah, well.” Shakespeare sighed. “Yes, but I believe it is destined to be a tragedy. The path to righting the plot eludes me.”

“How so? I am no writer, and surely speaking with Arthur or Dazai would suit your work better, but I’d be happy to lend an ear should it help you.”

Vincent shifted so that he was facing his friend, and took a sip of his drink, looking expectantly at Shakespeare. The playwright looked tense, more tense than Vincent had expected, and on impulse he reached out a hand to take Shakespeare free hand.

Shakespeare looked up at him, eyes wide, before clearing his throat. Despite his friend’s surprise, Shakespeare didn’t move his hand away, and Vincent smiled.

“Maybe you have some insight that I do not, after all. My experiences with love are rather limited.” Shakespeare said, breaking eye contact before continuing. “In my story, the hero has spent the majority of his life being very good friends with his love interest, but in all of that time, despite the quality of their friendship, he has been given no sign from the love interest that his feelings are reciprocated. It is, from his perspective, and entirely unrequited love. In addition, his desired’s family dislike him, despite the tenure of their friendship. They believe that he intends nothing but harm. And so, I cannot help but believe that the story must end in a tragedy of unrequited love, as I can see no clear path for the hero that does not end in heartbreak.”

Vincent was silent for a time after Shakespeare finished his explanation. The story that Shakespeare was telling felt familiar somehow, but he’d caught on something that he thought might help.

“What of conflict? Could you introduce a villain they must overcome together, or a competing love interest?”

Shakespeare laughed.

“Perhaps! Could you imagine, then, a woman that neither of them expected arriving, and both thinking the other man was interested in her rather than him? Oh, the drama that would come from that would be precious.”

“Oh, was the hero’s love interest another man? That explains the family’s issues a bit, I’d think. Do you think Paris is ready for something so forward?”

Shakespeare blinked. “Ah, I see you noticed my ruse. Yes, they were both to be men. Have you an objection to the idea yourself, Vincent?”

Vincent blushed and looked down at his glass.

“No, I have no issue with the concept of men being in love. After all, I’m—“ Vincent clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the traitorous thought from sneaking out. That was too close! He thought, looking anywhere but Shakespeare’s eyes. “I’m sure you could write it as a piece about the values of friendship if the theaters pan the love between male leads.”

“Certainly it would be foolish if they did.” Shakespeare said, scoffing. “I’ve had men kissing on stage for ages at this point because they would not allow women on the stage. Would you like another glass, Vincent?”

Vincent looked down and realized he’d finished his brandy.

“Ah. I’d best not, everything has a pleasant blur as it is, more would make me a poor conversationalist”

“Feeling the alcohol, hm?” Shakespeare said, setting both glasses aside before settling back down on the sofa.

Is he closer to me? Vincent thought, but then lost track of that thought as Shakespeare continued their earlier conversation.

“Insofar as Paris may not be ready for two men to be in love on a theatre stage, what of you, Vincent? How would you handle the situation were you the hero in my story?”

“I am not certain that I would know love were it staring me in the face, Will. But presuming I were that hero, who knew he was in love and simply did not know how the other felt… well, I…”

Shakespeare was looking at him with avid interest, and Vincent chuckled. Why did he feel like this was more than just a theoretical exercise? Alas, he only had this odd feeling in his chest, as though butterflies had taken up residence there and threatened to burst out.

“Well, Vincent?”

“I think, if I could not work up the courage to simply ask his feelings on the matter, or if I could not trust him to know how to answer, I would kiss him, let him know he was mine, and let fate and our friendship take it from there.”

“Ah, is that it, then?” Shakespeare said, and when Vincent turned, Shakespeare’s face was so incredibly close to his own.

“Will…?” Vincent said, and then Shakespeare’s brows knit together in a silent question. Vincent nodded, just barely perceptibly. He wasn’t sure what Shakespeare was asking, but he trusted his closest friend.

And that was when Shakespeare leaned in and kissed him. His lips were soft, and the kiss tentative, as though he expected Vincent to push him away or recoil in horror. Vincent of course did neither of these, but simply froze for just a moment as he was startled by the action, but not disinterested. When Shakespeare started to pull away from him, Vincent reached out and pulled the man back in for a real kiss, with none of the tentative concern of their first.

——

The light of early morning shone through the gap in the curtains, falling exactly across where Vincent’s head lay on the pillow. When he went to roll over to avoid the day’s burning gaze, he found himself pinned by arms around his waist.

Eyes snapping open, Vincent looked around him, recognizing in an instant Shakespeare’s bedroom. Why was he in Shakespeare’s room?

Ah, yes. Last night, they’d—

Vincent felt his cheeks heat up, just as Shakespeare’s arms tightened around him.

“Good morning, Will.”

“Good morning, dearest.” Shakespeare mumbled into his shoulder. “Was this how you expected our evening to end?”

Vincent paused, and considered. “With a morning? Do they not all end with a new day’s dawn?”

Shakespeare chuckled, the bard’s breath against his neck made Vincent shiver. “Tis too early for jests and riddles. Shall I arise and prepare us some tea before you return to the manor?”

Vincent grumbled and stretched, very much disinterested in leaving the comforting warmth of Shakespeare’s bed. Will’s Bed. This is what Theo meant when he said…

“You’ve gone still, Vincent. Is everything alright?”

“Theo warned me before I left to stay out of your bed. I was too naïve, I think, to take his meaning at the time.”

“Ah.” Shakespeare’s expression darkened slightly, and then a mischievous smirk graced his features. “Next time we attempt such an evening, shall we adjourn to your room instead?”

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #shakespeare x vincent #vincent x shakespeare #friends to lovers #ikemenlibrary gift exhange

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sunlightheidi · 3 years

Text

Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC

AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".

"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."

- Forest, Fancy Hagood

Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.

It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.

There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.

And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.

He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.

You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.

You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.

There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.

Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.

But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.

You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.

Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.

If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.

The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.

He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.

The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.

Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.

You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.

He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.

So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.

He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.

In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.

He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.

It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.

He bows, deeply. “Princess.”

And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.

In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.

“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”

He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”

“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.

“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”

“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”

An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.

“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.

He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”

A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.

“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”

“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”

Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”

He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”

“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.

“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”

Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.

“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”

Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.

“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”

He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.

“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”

Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.

“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”

He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.

You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.

“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.

From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.

“I love you, with everything that I possess.”

“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”

“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”

You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”

“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”

“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”

The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.

And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.

#I was so hesitant to post this #but fuck it #here it is #enjoy #jihyun kim #jihyun kim x reader #mystic messenger #v mysme #v route #v mysme fanfic #v mysme x reader #v mystic messenger #Jihyun Kim fanfic #Jihyun Kim mysme #Jihyun Kim mystic messenger #period/fantasy au #the mystic dance #mint palace ball

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diaryofadaringwitch · 4 years

Text

Tips for Solar Witches/Sun Worshippers During the Winter

If you're like me, in the Northern Hemisphere and dealing with winter- you might be finding it hard to be consistent with your witchy practice, especially if you're a green/nature witch.

Of course, magic is always present in nature but it can be harder to feel connected when everything is dormant, depending on your particular environment. Where I live, there are very few animals that stay active throughout the colder months and the plant life here thrives in our hot and humid summers.

I've always had difficulty with my nature practices in the winter, but this winter I'm facing a new obstacle- worshipping a deity associated with the sun. And yes, Apollo has many other domains like music and poetry, but the sun is still one of the most recognizable of His symbols.

So what's a witch to do?

Well, I've collected a few ideas that I've begun incoporating into my practice that I hope will be useful to you. While I am a devotee of Apollo, these ideas can be applied to any deity associated with the sun or just used as an aspect of secular witchcraft if your craft revolves around solar or green magic.

1. Spend time outside

This one is obvious, but important to mention anyway. I am a big believer in the magical powers of sunlight, since Vitamin D is a main component of multiple compounds that keep our brains happy. Go for a walk, enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch, or even linger a bit after you take out the trash. Look up at the sky and take a deep breath, allowing the light to wash over you and fill you with its life-giving energy.

This is also a great opportunity to practice earthing. I don't practice this very often in the winter (no thanks, frostbite) but if the day is warmer than normal, it's a great way to connect with the energy in the Earth, even if it's dormant. Just make sure to be safe and keep an eye out for any hazards.

2. Saying thanks at meals

Being raised Catholic, prayer at mealtimes feels very natural to me and since I'm home for the holiday break, it's an easy form of discreet practice. Sunlight is ultimately responsible for every bit of food we eat, so giving thanks before I eat is a great way to show my appreciation for the abundance of energy and life the sun provides. This doesn't have to be elaborate or a singular prayer you say every time. Try pausing for ten seconds to focus on your meal, how it will fuel your body, and how you are grateful for it.

3. Using alternatives to artificial light

As we approach the solstice, the days become shorter and shorter, leaving less and less daylight for us to enjoy. A great way to honor the sun during these limited hours is to find alternatives to artificial/electric light sources. Use candles, fireplaces, or oil lamps to add light where you need it. The flame from a candle is a minature sun, fueling and warming our lives.

If you want to challenge yourself, make light an offering. Try to spend a day without turning on any electric lights in your home, or limiting your source of light to only one or two key lamps. During the day, you can open your blinds and let the natural light in, appreciating it for every moment that it shines on the world.

4. Music/Devotional Playlists

This one is slightly more specific to Apollo, but I highly encourage you to make a devotional playlist to your deities or to the sun and play it throughout your day. Listen to one of my favorite playlists here.

You can get super creative with this. Think about what songs you associate with a bright, sunny day and add those. If you have a strong connection with the beach & sunlight, try listening to ocean sounds or ambience during a meditation session or just when you're going about your day.

5. Embrace the cold and darkness

Like it or not, winter teaches an important lesson. There is no light without shadow, abundance without hardship, summer without winter. Winter is not the enemy of the sun, but a natural complement, just as death is the natural complement to life. As hard as it is, take some time to think about what has left your life or what you need to let go of before you can move on to the season of spring renewal and growth. Take time to mourn that which you have lost, to fully acknowledge regrets and what you could have done better.

This is not to make you feel bad about yourself or about the tragedies of this particular year, but to face them as they are, not avoid them or diminish them. I truly believe that we cannot ignore the darker parts of our lives or our world if we are to truly grow and move on from them. This isn't easy, so please take care of yourself and don't push yourself beyond what you are mentally and emotionally prepared for. When in doubt, go talk to a professional.

6. Plan a celebration and ritual for the Winter Solstice

If you're in the northern hemisphere, you still have plenty of time to prepare something special for the winter solstice on Monday, December 21st. The longest night of the year is a great chance to do any of the aforementioned ideas, or create your own ritual to honor wintertime. It's the first day of Yule, so I know that many of you will already have celebrations or traditions planned, but the solstice is one of my absolute favorite days.

At the end of the longest night- the sun rises with a bright and shining glow as winter will begin to recede. If you can, you can stay awake for the longest night until the sun rises or I always make sure I wake up early enough to watch the sunrise and welcome the start of the Yule season. (I'll be sharing a list of virtual Yule ideas soon, so keep an eye out for that.)

I hope this helps you feel more connected to our amazing sun during this colder season. Feel free to add your own tips and rituals below, including your deity associations if that's a part of your practice.

If you're a witch and your practice is especially connected to the winter months, I would love love love to talk with you and learn more. I've been working on embracing the winter season as part of my practice and I would love to learn from you.

Have a wonderful day, fellow witches. Stay safe, mask up, and be blessed!

-Kate

#witch #witchcraft #witchblr #solar witch #solar witchcraft #religious witch #sun worship #hellenic pagan #apollo devotion #apollo worship #apollo devotee #religious witchcraft #secular witchcraft

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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

It’s strange.

You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not.

And yet.

“Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

“My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

“There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

“Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

“Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

“Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

“I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

“I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

“Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

“Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

“It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

“Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

“They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

“Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

“Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

“It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it.

“Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

“Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

“Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

“It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

“Excellent.”

You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

“If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

"Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin.

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you.

Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth.

“I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

“I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

“Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

But it can’t be.

Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

“Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

Elves only love once.

And yet.

“I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

Elves only love once. And yet.

You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

And yet.

o0o0o

Tags:

#thranduil imagine #the hobbit imagine #thranduil #the hobbit #lord of the rings #thranduil x reader #the hobbit one shot #mirkwood elves #mirkwood imagine

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

play pretend — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

prompt: in which two people are forced into marriage; reader falls in love. draco doesn’t.

a/n: hi listen to the song dusk til dawn if you wanna get into ur feelings while reading this .. anyways enjoy!!!

No matter how much Draco tried to deny it, part of her had always known that unwanted feelings lingered. Feelings from the past that should have been left there but weren’t—feelings that shone through during the most intimate moments; underneath bed covers, when Astoria’s name would slip past his lips instead of hers, or afternoons spent out by the garden when she would catch his eye and find him looking at her in a way that made it so painfully obvious that he was trying to find something in her that he could love.

The first time his and [Y/N]’s families had ever met, Narcissa Malfoy had pulled her away from the dining table to tell her in a voice of caution about a girl named Astoria Greengrass; the very same one Draco had fallen in love with during his time at Hogwarts. The girl came from a wealthy family, but one that was not wealthy enough—her blood was pure but her name not as well-respected as that of the Malfoys’ (word had leaked of an early ancestor having married a Muggle). Simply put, she was, though close to it, not good enough for Draco. The history of her family line and her insufficient wealth just couldn’t make the cut; Astoria Greengrass wasn’t good enough to wed into the Malfoy family—regardless of how much Draco claimed to have felt for her.

And so Astoria and Draco’s story ended with tragedy; with separation and arranged marriages to anyone but each other. Astoria wedded a man of her status; someone who could afford to marry her, and Draco to [Y/N], who had never known love until she met him—the very person who couldn't feel the same for her.

She'd wedded Draco fully aware that mutual feelings of affection were the last of any of their families' concerns. As long as no Muggle blood besmirched each others' family trees and the purity of blood was carried on further into newer generations, petty things like love hardly mattered.

Except somewhere along their forced time together in a lonely manor by the countryside—a dowry from her family to the Malfoys—[Y/N] began to look at Draco as less of the man who had been forced into marriage with her and more of a man she could learn to love. And so she did; she learned and loved and found a comfort in him that she had never been expecting to. It took time, yes, but once she took that courageous step and the floor gave out underneath her feet and she fell for Draco faster than she could even blink, she couldn't stop.

Because once you start to love someone, you are done for. You won't be able to pull yourself back out.

Maybe that's why Draco can't forget that one Astoria Greengrass. Maybe that's why he can't quite look at [Y/N] the way she wants him to. Maybe it's why, when [Y/N] foolishly tells him "I love you" in hopes that maybe this time he'll say it back, he doesn't.

[Y/N] wants to be angry. She wants to be able to grasp Draco’s shoulders, shake him to his senses and scream at him to forget Astoria, you can never have each other but you have me and I love you and I want you to be able to say the same for me so please just let go of her. But to set her pride aside and ask something like that of him takes plenty of courage—courage that [Y/N] isn’t entirely sure she has.

So she sits and pretends like everything is fine. Tells herself that the man she loves loves her back when she knows he doesn’t. And he knows it too.

Playing pretend—she’s gotten quite good at it over time.

—

When Draco holds her at midnight and presses himself close to her, it's like he's trying to imprint himself onto her very skin, trying to ingrain part of himself onto every inch of her body he can reach. And in a way, he does, in patches of faint red and purple and dark blues that mark her skin wherever his lips go.

They almost never talk at night. They're much too busy wrapped up in each other's arms and legs to bother with words. [Y/N] threads her fingers through his hair and pulls him in and Draco kisses her so hard it's like he's trying to make up for everything that he can't give her; kisses with passion that isn't quite driven by love but rather desperation for something—someone—he can't quite have.

And it hurts because [Y/N] knows that when Draco groans into her mouth and tightens his grip on her waist and glides his lips down her skin, it's not her face in his head. And it's not her name that leaves his lips, either, when the night progresses and they are drunk in one another's touch.

But [Y/N] is okay with it—or so she tells herself.

She has Draco. She's happy. She loves him, even though he doesn't. She is happy.

She has to be.

—

Jealousy.

That's what [Y/N] feels.

[Y/N] has never met Astoria Greengrass but she is pathetically jealous of her. She is jealous of everything about Astoria that Draco fell in love with, whatever that might be. And it's ridiculous because she doesn't even know what she looks like or how she is; all that [Y/N] knows about her is that she must truly be something else to have captured Draco Malfoy's heart and to still have it in her hands after all of this time.

An arranged marriage and a year forced apart—you'd think that that would be enough for Draco to move on.

They've been together for a while. Draco still looks at her like he's not really seeing her. He doesn't love her, and [Y/N] isn't exactly sure he ever will. Every day she wakes and hopes that by some miracle he has opened his eyes and has begun to finally see past the future she knows he still fantasizes about with Astoria, but that is yet to happen. For now [Y/N] is helplessly in love with a man who has his heart set on someone else.

And at some point she has become angry, but not at Draco nor the woman he loves—no, she is angry at herself. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and hates what is staring back at her. She goes up to her reflection and frowns and contemplates what it is she's missing. If the sight of her own face is revolting to herself, then it is no doubt that others feel the same way—including Draco—and is that why he can't love her? Because of how ugly she is? Or is it how she acts? How she speaks, how she laughs, how she smiles, how she is?

Whenever Draco disappears to "clear his head" and [Y/N] is left alone, she finds that the manor is too small to hold the vast amount of nothingness spilling out of her at the seams, so she goes out into the highest balcony that overlooks the sea and breathes in as much of the salty breeze as she can until the feeling in her chest doesn't quite feel as suffocating anymore.

It's not the marriage she'd been hoping for all of those years ago when she was a naive child who believed in fairy tales and happy endings. But at the very least, she loves. And she is grateful to Draco for allowing her to know what that feels like, even when he can't quite give it back to her.

—

But hearts are made of soft things, tissue and blood and muscle. Things that break and wound easy. Things that tend to scar instead of heal. There is only so much you can do until a human reaches breaking point and their heart gives away, and [Y/N] finds herself one Thursday evening with blood dripping down her knuckles and shards of glass scattered on the floor.

"What happened?" Draco's voice is soft, imploring, almost loving but not quite. It's always almost. Almost what [Y/N] wants. Almost how a husband should love his wife. Almost.

"Tripped," [Y/N] winces. Draco kneels down in front of her from where she's sitting on the toilet, hands gently caressing her own to inspect her blood-smattered knuckles. It's a terrible excuse; how do you trip and punch a mirror?

But Draco doesn't question it, and [Y/N] doesn't have to tell him that she'd looked into the mirror and despised what she saw so much that she'd been overcome by an irrational anger and began to beat her fists against her own reflection until the glass splintered and the skin of her wrists did so along with it.

Draco tells her to wait, so she does, sitting in the cold bathroom by herself with blood dripping down her knuckles onto the floor until Draco comes back with a cloth in one hand and a pouch of healing ointments in the other. Once he's cleaned up the mess on the floor, he kneels in front of her again and, quietly, gently, he begins to wipe the blood from her hands.

"Does it hurt?" Draco murmurs. His brows are drawn in the middle in a slight frown as he tries his hardest not to press too hard. He pauses and looks up at her, and his eyes are gentle, almost loving. Almost.

[Y/N] forces out a painful laugh. "Nothing I can't handle."

A smile tugs on the edges of Draco's lips. "As expected."

Then he quietly resumes nursing her wounds, and [Y/N] doesn't realize that she has started crying until she tastes the tears on her lips. Draco notices but doesn't say anything.

And because she is pathetically in love and she wants him to feel the same, when the cuts on her wrist have been bandaged and Draco is tucking away all of the tubes of ointment in his pouch, saying something about being more careful the next time (even though the both of them know fully well that her tripping was an excuse), [Y/N] tries again and says, "I love you."

Draco freezes for nothing more than a split-second, but [Y/N] notices—her gaze is fixed on him intently, helplessly trying to gauge a reaction that part of her knows won't come. But she wishes it would.

Her wishes are unheard. Draco nods, turns his head just a fraction of an inch to look at her out of the corner of his eye, and offers her a sad smile.

Almost.

—

"No, listen to me, Draco—I am TIRED!"

"And you don't think I am?"

"I know you love her—Merlin, of course I know, I see it every time you look at me—but I'm asking you to try to love m—"

"You say it like it's easy."

There is a sob rattling in the back of her throat. [Y/N] swallows it back down and turns away from Draco like he hasn't already seen the absolute mess of tears on her cheeks.

Draco stares out of the window, jaw taut and his fists clenched so tight at his sides his knuckles have gone a ghostly white.

"I knew we were getting married but I never expected much beyond a sealed contract and an agreement between our families—I never expected to fall in love with you but I did so here I am now asking you to do the same for me."

A beat of silence. "You're not her."

Another swallowed sob. A brand new fissure in her heart that joins the thousands of others. "I'm sorry."

More silence. Then: "I am too."

And then Draco leaves first, because he always does.

—

Their fights don't last long. Days follow and Draco and [Y/N] go about as they always do, pretending like the gaping void between them isn't there. Whenever night comes, Draco will roll over and press a quiet kiss to the back of [Y/N]'s shoulders, snake one hand around her waist, and whisper I'm sorry, and [Y/N] will turn and drag her lips against his until Draco captures them in his own and they are stuck in that endless loop of want again.

Draco kisses the breath out of her and she kisses him back. Kisses him enough to make up for those few terrible minutes of anger she'd accidentally let loose days ago. Kisses him with love, with passion—with everything Draco doesn't have.

When she gasps for air and Draco pulls away and trails his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of what feels like pure flame behind in his wake, she digs her nails into his shoulders and holds him in place. In a strained voice she says: "Look at me."

He doesn't. Draco kisses her throat and against her will she sucks in a desperate, shuddering breath, and the air sounds like Draco's name. "Look at me, Draco," she repeats, fingers pressing into his skin more insistently.

This time he stops and pries his lips away from her skin and hovers over her, eyes searching hers.

"When you're with me," she begins, eyes dark, breath coming quick, "I want to be the only one inside your head. I want you to look into my eyes and see only me."

His grip on her waist tightens; her hands twist unsteadily in his hair, gaze clearing just a tiny bit as she says, "Please."

And then he is dipping down to kiss her again, lips parted, breath rough. Somewhere in between their almost frantic kisses he whispers a response, and [Y/N] is much too lost in the feeling of his skin on hers but she thinks that Draco might be breathing words into her skin. They sound like apologies—sound like I'm sorry, sound like Astoria.

[Y/N] throws her head back as Draco brushes his lips over the curve of her collarbones and whispers something audible this time, and this time it sounds like I'll try. Feels like hope. Feels like a door opening to something.

Feels, for the first time, something more than almost.

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2tired2study · 4 years

Text

hi! i’ve recently finished the picture of dorian gray so let’s go over my favorite quotes (in order from the ones that appear in the book first to last)

if they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat

being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose i know

and as for believing things, i can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible

when our eyes met, i felt that i was growing pale. a curious sensation of terror came over me. i knew that i had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if i allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself

he, too, felt that we were destined to know each other

laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one

a man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies

i like persons better than principles, and i like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world

every day. i couldn’t be happy if i didn’t see him every day. he is absolutely necessary to me

he is all my art to me now

it is only the intellectually lost who ever argue

and the mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing

there is no such thing as a good influence, mr gray. all influence is immoral; immoral from the scientific point of view

he becomes an echo of someone else’s music

but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul

some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires,you will feel it, you will feel it terribly

man is many things, but he is not rational

examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him

behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic

there was something fascinating in this son of love and death

really! and where do bad americans go to when they die?... they go to america

well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth

all i want now is to look at life. you may come and look at it with me, if you care to

punctuality is the thief of time

it is only the sacred things that are worth touching

when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving ones self, and one always ends by deceiving others

there is always something infinitely mean about other peoples tragedies

how different he was now than the shy frightened boy he had met in basil hallwards studio! his nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of scarlet flame. out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and desire had come to meet it on the way

it is personalities, not principles, that move the age

people are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves

he lives the poetry that he cannot write. the others write the poetry that they dare not realize

human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating

to note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to observe where they had met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a delight in that! what matter was the cost? one could never pay too high a price for any sensation

with his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. it was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. he was like one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir ones sense of beauty, and whose wounds are like red roses

the senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade

all that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sun we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy

it often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves

the joy of a caged bird was in her voice

she was free in her prison of passion

i love him because he is like what love himself should be.

he was like a common gardener walking with a rose

he had the dislike of being stared at, which comes on geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace

to be in love is to surpass ones self

my wonderful lover, my god of graces

i wish i had, for as sure as there is a god in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, i shall kill him

whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives

i don’t want to see dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect

we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices

and unselfish people are colourless. they lack individuality

you are much better than you pretend to be

of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are

he is not like other men. he would never bring misery upon any one. his nature is too fine for that

but i am afraid i cannot claim my theory as my own. it belongs to nature, not to me

no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is

there was a gloom over him

he felt that dorian gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past

any one you love must be marvellous

it is not good for ones morals to see bad acting

there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing

you taught me what reality really is

you had made me understand what love really is

you are more to me than all art can ever be

there is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love

a faint echo of his love came back to him

we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities

when we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us

i cant bear the idea of my soul being hideous

one can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner

it is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion

you were the most unspoiled creature in the whole world

of you wish me never to look at your picture again, i am content. i have always you to look at

from the moment i met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. i was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you

i grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. i wanted to have you all to myself. i was only happy when i was with you

i only knew that i had seen perfection face to face

i grew more and more absorbed in you

you are made to be worshipped

in every pleasure, cruelty has its place

but it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of life that is itself but a moment

out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. we have to resume it where we left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it nat be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance of even joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain

yet, as had been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself

he saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart

art, like nature, has her monsters

is insincerity such a terrible thing? i think not. it is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities

and mind you don’t talk about anything serious. nothing is serious nowadays. at least nothing should be

i am tired of myself tonight. i should like to be someone else

sin is a thing that writes itself across a mans face

you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite

that is the reason why i want you to be fine. you have not been fine

you have a wonderful influence. let it be for good, not for evil

i wonder do i know you? before i could answer that, i should have to see your soul

my god! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, and shameful

so you think it is only god who sees the soul, basil? draw that curtain back, and you will see mine

each of us has heaven and hell in him, basil

you are the one man who is able to save me

don’t speak about those days, dorian—they are dead... the dead linger sometimes

lord henry, i am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked

life is a great disappointment

i like men who have a future and women who have a past

moderation is a fatal thing. enough is as bad as a meal. more than enough is as good as a feast

you always want to know what one has been doing. i always want to forget what i have been doing

his soul, certainly, was sick to death

he was prisoned in thought. memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

ones days were too brief to take the burden of another’s errors on ones shoulders

it is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

to define is to limit

to be popular one must be a mediocrity

romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art

i am searching for peace

the appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists

sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself

horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart

how terrible it was to think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms

he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art

when you and he ceased to be great friends, he ceased to be a great artist

if a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart

art has a soul, but that man had not

the soul is a terrible reality

to get back my youth i would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable

but a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—i tell you, dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend

life has been your art

the books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world it’s own shame

the world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history

it was the living death of his own soul that troubled him

as it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painters work, and all that that meant. it would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free

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fiction-boys-rule · 4 years

Text

Imagine...being single on Valentines Day and the Leverage team set you up on a date with Eliot.

Pairing: Eliot/(Y/N)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff

Word Count: 4,615

Second post this week, I’m on a roll! Been feeling Eliot very much, and once this idea came into my head, I had to write it. Happy Valentines Day, and remember you can celebrate any and all forms of love. Hope you enjoy :)

As you open the door, you are blinded with red. Literally. Bright red decorations hanging across the ceiling, roses on every blank surface, balloons taking up the space the furniture doesn’t, and varied pastries and snacks themed with pink or red.

“What the hell?” You mumble, walking slowly into the apartment.

You close the door softly and run your fingertips over the rose petals of a bouquet. Then it hits you.

Today’s the 14th. February. Valentine's Day. Oh no.

You should have stayed home instead of offering to work the pub today.

’Why did you have to be so nice? Did Nate even say thank you?’ You reprimand yourself.

“Ah, finally, you’re here.” Sophie says.

You turn and see her standing by the couch, wearing a stunning red dress and gazing at you with an eager look. You’re getting a bad feeling about whatever is going on.

“Hi?”

“I apologize for Parker’s antics. She seems to have taken advantage of Nate’s approval. This is all a bit over the top, isn’t it?”

You stare at her with what must be a confused and lost look because she just smiles and motions for you to sit on the couch. You walk over reluctantly and sit, fidgeting uncomfortably. She sits and smiles, taking your hand in hers.

“I am very proud of who you have become while being with us. We don’t say if often, but we do appreciate you. Nate also appreciates you. Though he can’t seem to get it through his thick skull how much he needs you. I trust you very much and I know you won’t let me down. You look lovely today, by the way.”

You look down after trying to process her vague statements and suddenly curse yourself for listening to stupid Nate’s ‘recommendation/mandatory orders’.

‘Wear red. Go with the theme of today.’, his text had read.

You hadn’t really known what he had meant and since you weren’t exactly one to look forward to this holiday, the ‘theme’ he had mentioned had gone completely over your head. You had picked a simple dark red dress that had your specific likings, down to the length and skin it showed that made you infinitely comfortable and confident in it. It even has pockets!

“Uh, thanks? You look good too. But I’m kind of confused with-”

“Don’t you worry, darling. You will do great. I know you will. Now all you have to do is trust the process and be true to yourself. Be confident in the way I know you are. Don’t hold back and be honest about your feelings. Fear holds us back. Don’t let it control you.”

“Okay? But Sophie-”

“Ah ah, it will be fine. All will be explained soon enough. Don’t let me down, darling.”

She kisses your cheek and suddenly stands. You try to walk but she holds a finger up as she walks to the door. She opens it and the rest of the team are standing on the other side. They walk in, staring at you.

‘What the hell is going on?’ you think.

Parker and Hardison have curious looks on their faces and Nate looks smug as ever.

“We’re all going out tonight on our own little adventures as pairs but don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything. We’re all counting on you.”

“Sophie, what the hell-”

“Hardison, when I told you to grab a box, it wasn’t a suggestion!”

You hear Eliot yelling before he comes into view. He stops walking and glances around the room.

“You weren’t kidding about the party. Where are you going?”

He looks over at the four of them and they just smirk at him. It all happens so quick. Parker and Hardison grab him, pulling him into the apartment. He struggles to resist with the boxes in his hand. All of a sudden, the door is closed and a lock clicks.

“First drawer on the left below the TV!” Parker yells.

You hear them burst into laughter and their footsteps fade.

Eliot stares at the door a moment before turning back to you. His face matches your thoughts: ‘What the hell just happened?’

“Did you have anythin’ to do with this?” he grumbles, setting the box down.

“No! I was just supposed to come for my shift today but then Nate told me to come upstairs first. What did they tell you?”

“They just said there was a mandatory team meeting today and to bring boxes in from the van. What the hell is goin’ on?”

You walk over to the TV and open the drawer Parker had mentioned. Eliot walks over and you see an envelope with hearts all over it addressed to Eliot and you. Well, at least that’s what you think it means. It only says: To the Two Lovebirds, Love Sophie & Parker.

You frown over at Eliot and find him giving you the same look.

“I don’t have the patience for their little jokes today, man.” he grumbles, going and sitting on the couch.

You open the envelope and start reading the letter inside.

“You both must be very confused about what’s going on, but trust all will be explained soon. We have big plans for you both today and wish you well on your journey of love. Don’t let us down.”

“Are they playin’ cupid or somethin’?”

“Um, I think so. It says we have to stay the whole day in here and if we try to escape we’ll face the consequences.”

“What the hell is this? I ain’t a hostage!”

“Don’t try to break the door down. If you do, you’ll owe Hardison a new van because that’s how much that high security door cost. We are watching your every move, so don’t do anything you don’t want us to see. We can hear and see everything. Have fun and if you succeed, feelings will be revealed and a happy ending will be your reward.”

“Happy ending?”

You suddenly realize what Sophie means and your stomach drops. Why did you ever tell her about your stupid crush on Eliot? Why is she so confident he’ll like you back? She is literally going to make you be so embarrassed and get rejected in the worst way possible: being stuck in an apartment with him and working with him. You could strangle her right now.

“Um, Eliot?”

“Man, I just wanted a cold beer today and to maybe cook a nice meal.”

“Eliot?”

“I’m goin’ to kill Hardison when I see him. I’m goin’ to hit him so hard his ancestors hurt!”

“Um, Eliot?”

“What?”

“I think we just got set up on a date by the team.”

Two Weeks Earlier…

“Really?” Parker exclaims.

“I’m telling you, it’s a great idea. They both like each other, we will just push the natural cycle of love a little faster. Who are we to get in the way of love?”

“What are you two up to now?” Nate grumbles, walking into the apartment.

“Do you think Eliot likes Y/N?” Parker asks.

Nate stops walking and almost chokes on his drink.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Nate. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her? How he treats her? She’s the only woman in his world. But they’re both stubborn and afraid to make a move. I just want to move it along.”

“Well, what if they don’t? You can’t be sure-”

“Well I know she does. But you know her. She’s never going to tell him. We have to do something, Nate.”

“Sophie, can you just take a back seat for once? Let the man build up the courage. I mean come on, we never wanted dating to be a thing in the team.”

“Yeah and look what happened.” Hardison mumbles, tinkering with his new system.

Nate rubs his face, sitting down.

“Unplanned things happen. Look, maybe they like being single, or they aren’t ready-”

“Well, why don’t we find out?” Sophie interrupts.

“What? How? Eliot is never going to tell you.”

“Well, I know Y/N has feelings for him. I also know he would never lie to her.”

“Here we go.” Nate mumbles, leaning back on the couch with an annoyed look on his face.

“We cannot let both of them be single and unacquainted with their love for each other! That is a tragedy! We have to do something! Aren’t we their friends?”

“And how would we do that?” Hardison mumbles.

“What do we get out of it, Sophie? Another couple in the team and more risk. Maybe Eliot and her losing their focus. I can’t have that. We can’t have that.”

“A bet, perhaps?” Sophie smiles.

“A bet?” Hardison asks.

“That way we all have something to gain from this.”

Nate grumbles, shaking his head.

“Parker and me will bet on their love succeeding.” Sophie says.

“I am very confident in this little scheme of yours failing.” Nate says.

“Hardison?”

“I'm going to go with Nate for this one. Eliot doesn’t seem like the type to hold back his stupid charm.”Hardison says.

“Alright. What are each of you willing to lose as punishment for losing the bet?”

“I’ve always wanted to see what you store in that little storage unit of yours.” Nate says.

“My prized possessions?”

“Yeah, and if you lose, Hardison and me get to each take five things from it.”

“Five?” Sophie exclaims.

“If you’re that confident in the power of love.” Nate says.

“Fine. Alright, I can do that. What about you, Parker?”

“I think she shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with her bunny for a month.” Hardison smirks.

“A month? Without my bunny?” Parker whines.

“Or any other stuffed animal you have.”

“Trust the process, Parker.” Sophie mumbles to her.

She looks over to her and sighs, nodding reluctantly.

Hardison smirks, continuing his tinkering.

Parker looks at his system and smirks evilly, “I want to be able to play games on your new system for a month.”

He whips around and glares at her.

“What? On the new system? This took me six months to make!”

“Well, you’re so confident, right?” Sophie says.

He looks between them, panicking.

“But, but I just-”

“Are you going to do it or not?”

He sighs, looking back at his system.

“Fine. But can there be a time limit per day? It overheats, and-”

“Fine, two hours.” Sophie says, smiling at a frustrated Hardison.

“Fine! Fine. But if you break it-”

“What about you, Nate?” Sophie and the rest of them look over at him.

“He has to stop drinking for a month!” Parker yells.

“A month?! That’s ridiculous-” Nate protests.

“Oh come on, you’re the one who doesn’t think it will work.” Hardison says.

Nate looks between them before sighing and standing.

“This is ridiculous. A month. A whole month. Alright, okay. You’ve got your deal.”

They all laugh.

“Well, I see many benefits to this little bet.” Sophie says.

“I get to see what you hide away. I need more decoration, anyway. And I think you have great taste, Sophie.” Hardison says.

“I get to play video games and annoy Hardison!” Parker yells cheerily.

“I get to see the beginnings of love.” Sophie says.

“And sober Nate.” Hardison says.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Parker asks.

Nate grumbles incoherently, opening another bottle and serving himself.

“Oh darling, I forgot to mention that to set the mood, I’m going to have to get decorations, and their favorite meals and pastries.”

“Cake!” Parker yells.

“Yes, and lots of roses, and-”

“Just use my card.” Nate grumbles before slamming his office door shut.

They all burst into laughter, their new plan ready to be set into motion.

Present Time

“I can’t believe this.” you mumble, sitting on the couch next to Eliot.

Part of you feels betrayed by Sophie, but the other part of you feels strangely anxious and excited. She has to have some sort of confidence in him having some sort of interest in you. Right?

“Alright, so now what? We just stay in here all day?” Eliot protests.

“First activity of the day, preparing a meal. Who can nurture love when they are on an empty stomach? Using the ingredients in the fridge provided, prepare a meal to enjoy together and get to know each other more.”

“They better have gotten good stuff and not left a bunch of crap to cook with.”

“Well, at least you get to cook your nice meal?” you ask nervously.

Eliot looks over at you, smiling slightly.

“I guess. And I’ll be honest, you’re the person I’d rather be locked in an apartment with instead of any of the others.”

“They can hear you, you know.”

“I know.” he grumbles.

You laugh, smiling.

“Well, we might as well make the best of our time here. Not like we’re going anywhere. I hope you didn’t have a date planned for later today.” you joke.

“I did, actually.” Eliot says, standing.

Your heart skips a beat and your smile falters. Of course he did. Why were you stupid enough to think he would confess his feelings right away?

“With my couch and a nice cold beer. Can’t get much better than that. Come on. Let’s see what crap they left us.”

He walks to the kitchen and your smile returns. You walk over and sit on a stool, reading again.

“Before starting, look in a box located to the right of the fridge. In there, you will find two necessary things needed for your cooking.”

You look up from the paper, seeing Eliot looking with disgust at two pink aprons, filled with bright red hearts. One says ‘Hers’, and the other says ‘His’, with arrows pointing at each other. You can’t help but burst out laughing, seeing Sophie’s ridiculous ideas.

“Do we really have to wear these?” he grumbles.

“Yes, unless you want to see what kind of ‘consequences’ they have in mind.”

You take one, putting it on and smiling at Eliot’s obvious level of discomfort.

“Next, begin your cooking and remember, food is best when made and served with love.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eliot opens the fridge and soon forms an idea for a meal.

You are chopping up vegetables for a salad and your eyes wander over to him as he delicately cuts and cooks the rest of the food. His eyes are meticulous and hands precise. He obviously loves cooking and is great at it.

“Do you cook much?” he suddenly asks.

You continue cutting.

“No, not much. No one ever taught me. You’d be the first. What-”

His arms surround you and his hands go over yours.

“Hold it like this. Less chance of cuttin’ yourself and it’ll be done faster.”

“Oh, okay.” you whisper, following his directions.

His body warmth comforts your back and you hear low sounds of approval as he watches you do what he told you.

“Good girl.” he praises before going back to the other side of the counter.

Butterflies form in your stomach and you almost cut yourself.

‘Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.’ you think.

Afterwards, he leads you to the very decorated dining table and makes you sit. He sets a bottle of wine down and serves you. He goes back over and serves two plates and brings them over. You almost laugh at the sight of him wearing the apron. He sits down and you mumble a ‘thanks’ before taking a sip of water. He smiles at you and motions for you to take a bite. You do, and you can’t help but nod your head vigorously and have another bite.

“This is so good, Eliot. Oh my gosh.”

“It’s because you helped.”

“Oh, please.”

You both clink your glasses and have a sip of wine, eating in comfortable silence.

“I didn’t get to uh, tell you before. You know, with all this stuff. You look good today, Y/N.”

You blush, looking down and hiding your face with your glass but not drinking anything. After a moment, you reluctantly meet his eyes again.

“Uh, thank you. You do too, by the way.”

He smiles and your heart beats faster. After you have eaten and cleaned the kitchen, you grab the paper again. Eliot rips rather hastily at his apron and throws it on a chair. You giggle and watch as he rolls his eyes. You take your apron off too and run a hand through your hair. You sit on the couch and start reading.

“Hopefully your meal has satisfied part of your inner hunger. Now, it is time to play a game. If you tell the truth, there will be no punishment. But if you do not, a punishment awaits. Grab the box below the bar and look in the box for further instruction.”

Eliot grabs it and walks over, sitting beside you. You open it and grab the paper on the top.

“Time for a drinking game. There will be a series of questions you will be asked from a stack of cards labeled with each of your names. Ask the person the question and if they don’t wish to answer, then they have to take a shot.”

You look away from the paper and see the cards set out on the table with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“Not my drink of choice, but I’m guessin’ that’s the point.”

“Before you start, there are two accessories needed to play this game. Look in the bottom of the box and once you have put them on, you can start.”

Eliot pulls out two red headbands with bright pink hearts at the top. You laugh loudly, seeing as Eliot’s face scrunches up as he stares at them in his hands.

“I ain’t puttin’ this damn thing on.”

“Oh come on, Eliot! The faster we do this, the faster we can leave! What’s the point of just sitting around and doing nothing? Let’s have some fun. Liven up your wardrobe a little bit.”

“No way in hell.”

“Eliot, do it for me? Please?”

His eyes stare at you with a curious look in them. He is reluctant, but eventually he gives in and puts it on. You try not to laugh at him again as you put yours on.

“There. Matching!” you say happily.

“You look cute, I just look stupid.” he groans.

You blush at his compliment and giggle. He rolls his eyes and hands you your stack of cards.

“Let’s just start.” he mumbles.

The questions start off pretty innocently and at one point, you’re wondering what the whole point was of this game. But suddenly, you’re reminded of Sophie’s wit.

“Have you ever had a crush on a colleague?” Eliot asks.

You blush and quickly look over at your shot glass.

“You’re gonna chicken out now?” he teases.

“No! Okay um, yes.”

“When?”

“It doesn't ask anything besides yes or no! You’re cheating!”

Eliot laughs, making you glare playfully at him.

“Okay, you go next.” he says, taking a drink of his beer.

“Okay, um. What kind of underwear do you wear?”

You burst out laughing as Eliot coughs.

“Are you gonna take a drink?” you ask shyly.

“What, you really want me to give you and the cameras a show? I ain’t lettin’ Hardison see anythin’. He’s already seein’ me wear this stupid thing on my head.”

“Yeah, I think Parker wrote that one.”

Eliot serves his shot and drinks it, grimacing slightly.

“Okay, you next.”

He takes a card and looks between it and you a few times. He clears his throat.

“Uh, what does your dream first date look like?”

You are taken aback by the question and you actually start thinking about it for the first time in a while. Dating hasn’t been a priority for you, especially lately.

“Well, I like quality time. So going out to eat, or taking a walk somewhere. Showing them something I really like, like my favorite film or talking to them about my favorite book. I think a night in would also be really nice.”

You look up and his eyes have a soft look in them. He smiles slightly and clears his throat as he looks away and sets the card down.

‘Damn it Sophie, your plan is working.’

“Okay, next. What’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?”

You both burst out laughing at the change of mood. He shakes his head and genuinely looks embarrassed.

“No, absolutely not. Not goin’ there. Give me the damn bottle.”

You are still laughing as he takes the shot.

“Wow, not even a hint. Was it really that dirty?”

“Next question. What don’t you like about me?”

“Nothing.” you answer quickly, watching as his eyes snap up to yours. You curse yourself as you realize you let your thoughts get the best of you.

“Well, um. I mean, I can’t think of anything. Right now. Um, I don’t know you that well, I don’t think.”

He nods and sets the card down. Shit. You didn’t mean to offend him.

“Sorry. I think that’s the shot talking.”

“Yeah, you’ve only had one.”

You both laugh and you appreciate how it lifts the mood of the room.

“Alright. Um, would you ever kiss me?”

Eliot looks at you, a small look of discomfort on his face. His eyes soften, gazing at you.

“Are you going to drink? You can, you know.”

You laugh lightly to fill the uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Yeah, I would.”

“You would?” your heart starts beating faster.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I would.”

You stare at him, starting to smile.

“I think that’s the tequila talking for you.” you smirk.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

You both smile and you look down only to find that your cards are finished.

“Is that it?”

“Guess so. About time. Don’t know how many more shots or damn questions I could handle.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re getting pretty red, Spencer.”

He glares over at you as you bite your lip and hold back a smile. You grab the paper again.

“Congratulations on getting to know each other better. Now there is one last stage of today’s date. In a box in the bathroom, you’ll find accessories to use for your move night. You can eat the snacks throughout the apartment. Enjoy.”

Eliot stands and comes back with a box. You open it and the laughter makes its way out of you before you can stop it. Eliot frowns at you before he looks inside and he suddenly sighs and puts his face in his hands.

“Now you have found your matching onesies for tonight’s movie night. Enjoy your snacks and we hope you are comfortable. Again, we can watch you with the cameras so keep it PG-13.”

You laugh again as you pull them out. Sophie has picked one of your favorite animals and Eliot got a dinosaur onesie.

“Well, let’s go put these on, I guess.”

“They’re lucky I’ve been drinkin’ enough for this.” he grumbles before getting up and taking his onesie with him.

A few minutes later and you have both changed and picked a movie to watch together. All the snacks are on the coffee table and more pillows have been added to the couch. You don’t remember doing that.

“Do you think we’re livin’ up to their expectations?”

He looks funny holding his beer bottle with the top of the onesie over his head. He looks cute. How does he look cute? Oh gosh. You just shrug.

“Maybe. But we’re still here, so I guess.”

He nods slowly and takes another drink of his beer.

You shiver as the room gets colder and cuddle closer into the pillows. Eliot notices and watches as you struggle to find warmth.

“Damn Hardison must have turned the air conditionin’ on.” he grumbles.

You glare at the cameras, knowing what they’re up to.

“Here.” Eliot hands you a shot and you frown over at him.

“It’ll warm you up. Plus, it’s no fair I’m more buzzed than you are.”

You roll your eyes but take the shot anyway. You clear your throat and he takes it from you.

“Come ‘ere.” he grumbles, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

“You do know what they’re doing, right?”

“Are you cold or not?” he asks, looking lazily over at you.

Sighing, you make your way over and you tense as his hand surrounds your shoulders. He finishes his beer and lays back again. You start the movie and find comfort in his warmth. He pulls a blanket over you and hands you a bag of your favorite snack.

“How-”

“Movie’s startin’ sweetheart.”

You smile and appreciate his thoughtfulness. After the movie is done, several empty bags and containers take up the coffee table. You both have a short discussion about the movie before you fall into silence again.

You glance at your phone, “Damn, it’s almost midnight.”

As if on cue, you yawn and look back at Eliot.

“You know, I never thought I would actually enjoy today. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Even if I had to wear these stupid things.”

You laugh and nod.

“Yeah, I had a great time. I hadn’t really talked one on one with you before. It was nice. Thank you for cooking. Thanks for not running out of here, too.”

You both laugh and his gaze turns serious.

“You know, I was bein’ serious about what I told you. I know Sophie isn’t one to do these things without a good reason to.”

He doesn’t have to tell you what he’s talking about for you to know.

“I know.”

His hand is on your thigh and you bite your lip.

“The question is would you?” he mumbles slowly.

You only take a second to think before you gather all the courage inside of you and respond. All the months of you keeping your secrets and feelings inside suddenly come spilling out in one word.

“Yes.”

Eliot slowly leans forward. His eyes glance down to your lips and you both close your eyes as he gently kisses you. Your hand goes to his neck as his other hand pulls you closer. You’re so close to each other, and it’s better than you could have imagined. He pulls away and smiles down at you.

“Never thought I would do it like this, but I’m still glad I did. I might not kill Hardison, after all.”

You both laugh softly before he kisses you again, even more gently. Eventually, you both pull away and end up falling asleep together in each other’s arms. In his embrace, it feels as though nothing can beat the feeling. You wonder why the hell you waited so long to make a move. You thought you would strangle Sophie after this little stunt of hers. But now all you want to do is hug her.

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team has been in the van for the past hour watching the developments.

“My system. My poor system! I’m sorry, baby!” Hardison cries out, leaning his head on the desk.

They all roll their eyes. Parker cheers and claps her hands, laughing.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it. What kind of games can I play?” she asks eagerly.

Sophie smirks over at Nate. He slowly looks over at her, a look of disappointment on his face.

“I hope you liked your gift.” she says.

“You bought me a bottle of whiskey.”

“I know, darling. And I hope you absolutely love it.”

Nate groans, leaning back and cursing why he ever thought this was a good idea.

Sophie had stolen love all right, and Nate had secretly never been prouder.

#eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer imagine #leverage #eliot leverage

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