#writing:mine

[paintedbutton]

9 Lines, 9 People

@writernopal tagged me in this. <3

Going back into Project Runaways for this one. Have I mentioned lately that Fox and Cristoff make me want to chew the walls? Because they do.

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“You didn’t.”

Fox shrugged. “Easy.”

What he wanted to say was that Cristoff was barely breathing, that he was holding on by a thread and Fox hated it. That he’d do anything to make it better. He ignored the laughter in the back of his mind and watched as Cristoff pulled the camera out of the box, turned it over and over again, as he smiled, just slightly.

“Thank you.”

When he turned it on, the focus went exactly where it always did at first. Fox looked back, impassive, as the shutter clicked. Knew what the picture looked like because it’d been taken a hundred times before. Honey eyes.  He’s looked at them so many times and he still hasn’t figured it out. For once it wasn’t the voice in his head. It was Ari, laughing lightly, mocking. He didn’t know which was worse.

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Tagging:

@winterandwords , @revenantlore , @zmwrites

@tragicheirs , @floralmusings , @finickyfelix

@half-hell , @byjillianmaria , @scallioncreamcheesebagel

[actiaslunaris]

out of step with other souls

offering pieces

leaving them strewn behind in the cracks

stepped over, stepped on

disregarded

"always behind you, never beside you", R.P., 06-24-2021

[mullersturtleneck]

Snowman Song

So, a while back someone asked if I could write fluff just about Orphydice falling more in love with each other and I decided I’d focus on moments where Orpheus writes/dedicates songs to Eurydice. Here’s another piece of that little series. Just a good old fluff piece because I love these children.         

______________ 

    In the time since their return up above, Eurydice had been dreading the snow. Snow meant cold; snow meant short, dark days, no crops to harvest. Snow meant winter, and winter meant biting cold. As Persephone returned underground Eurydice counted the days in her head, watching the leaves fall from the trees. Orpheus took her on long walks, pointed out the colors and the beauty of it all. He reminisced; it had been so long since the canvas of changing colors had been part of their lives, and his few memories of fall with Hermes were picturesque and serene. His memories involved things she hadn’t remembered doing, even in the few memories she had of good times with her parents as a young girl.

Orpheus made up for it. He had her carving sweet faces into pumpkins and placing them in the window. He raked the leaves and kicked around their piles, grinning and watching them all fall around him once more. He put on the kettle and made cider from the apples that had fallen and bruised, the ones that were more difficult to preserve. (he attempted this; the drink was bitter and off-putting the first time, until Orpheus went to Mister Hermes for the recipe he thought he’d remembered but had completely butchered). Orpheus loved the fall, the way the world began to hush and close in on itself, the way the cold kept them inside by the fire, wrapped in blankets and each other. Eurydice loved him for this but hated herself for the way her body constricted and her pulse quickened any time the sky grew grey and cold. Even with Orpheus and his love of all things fall beside her, she could not stop worrying about the impending winter.

It was early when the first snow fell; there was not yet a regular timeline of these things as the world was adjusting back into its new cycle, but Eurydice swore that the fall was short and the leaves had fallen far too soon.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” She stood at the window by their front door, looking out upon the rows of empty dirt where they’d just plucked the last of their harvest the day before. “It’s too early. Maybe it was all a trick. Maybe,”

“-Maybe,” Orpheus crossed the distance of their humble living space, wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Maybe winter is coming, but we’re ready. We have a fire, we have the rest of the harvest canned and preserved. We have jobs, we have a house.” He brushed his nose against her cheek, resting there for a moment as he felt her take a steady breath. Then, he raised his lips to her cheek, kissing her. They stood there for a while, Eurydice watching out the window as he watched her relax her breathing. Orpheus held her, and they watched the pink sky of the shortened day turn to night.

              “We have each other. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Unless-unless you wanted to, I’m not trying to sound like I’m keeping you here or like you have to stay, or,”

              “Orpheus,” Eurydice laughed, turning in his arms to brush her hand along his cheek. “We’re here. Together. I don’t plan on going anywhere.” She ran his thumb along his cheek, stood up on her toes to kiss his lips, and smirked.

              “Unless you think I’m going anywhere when it starts to snow really bad-then, I might have to tempt you to stay.”

              The snow came sooner than either of them thought; after three days of dark grey sky the first flakes began to fall, heavy and thick like the seeds of pussywillow plants that had been dried and put in vases on the kitchen counter. Eurydice tapped her fingers on the windowsill, drew hazy configurations of lines and patterns as her mind wandered. Orpheus was puttering around the house; he’d started a low glowing fire early that morning, and had taken to poking it every time he walked by, watching the embers fall low underneath their sturdy logs, keeping the house a haven. He’d put a kettle on, and moved between their little kitchen and the fire with ease. He’d often look over to the window where Eurydice sat, knees curled up to her chest, wrapped in a haphazardly knit blanket they’d attempted to work on together. One hand was slipped through a large gap in the knitting, fingers tracing its imperfect shape. Her head lay against the glass, eyes half-opened, and she was silent. Orpheus nodded to himself, running back to the kettle to take it from the heat for a moment.

              Eurydice could hear his shuffling, the movement of his feet back and forth across their living space, throwing open drawers and cabinets, before she felt something soft hit her head. Startled, she shifted in her seat at the window and bent down to pick up the offending object; a hat. One of his winter beanies, sturdily made and traded for at the market at the turn of the season. She glanced up at Orpheus in time to catch her mittens, then the oversized jacket she adored. Eurydice bent her brows, looked across the room at a half-dressed Orpheus in curiosity. He smiled back, waving his hand.

              Orpheus had thrown on a more rugged pair of pants, traded in loafers for boots. He’d already put his own jacket on-a large woolen thing, slightly torn at the wrist. He was a flurry of motion, lacing and buttoning, running to the large chest by their bed to pull out two long, knitted scarves. Both were slightly askew, one quite a bit longer than the other, but he slung one over his shoulder with a widening grin, walking with a skip to the window. He bundled the scarf around her with a flourish, kissing her nose and her forehead and her lips with giddy excitement.

              “What are you doing?” She asked, shaking her head at Orpheus as he continued to fly around the house, gathering things up in his arms.

              “It’s snowing.” He stops in his tracks, turning to look at Eurydice with slightly quizzical eyes. “It’s the first snow of the season, and it’s sticking-we have to make a snowman.”

              It’s another tradition lovingly remembered; they’d talked about it when the skies first started to turn gray, as they were prepping the garden for the impending cold. Orpheus had stopped in his tracks, looked at the sky, and taken a deep breath. He’d recalled with a soft smile the days when he was little, when Hermes had pulled him along in a dainty wooden sled, taken him through the park to a clearing with a decently sized hill and let him slide down all morning long. They’d built snowmen after every first snowfall, Mister Hermes doing most of the brunt work as Orpheus had been so skinny and long-limbed. They’d spend the day outdoors, up until Orpheus’s fingers were red and his boots would begin soaking in the cold. Then, Hermes would pull him back on the sled to the little apartment above the bar. They’d change and run downstairs to serve the incoming crowd; he’d make Orpheus a steamed hot chocolate, let him sit behind the counter and pluck away at his tiny guitar as Hermes worked.

              Seeing the first snow stirred Orpheus, and when he finally convinced Eurydice to trek outside of the warmth of their home he just stood, looking up at the big flakes falling, and felt the breath catch in his throat. He took hold of Eurydice’s hand. She watched him silently, the wonder in his eyes as they trailed across the sky and the glimmering of the patches of snow hit by sunlight. She watched his grin double in size, boyish and unfiltered, and felt his hand squeeze hers.

              He bent down then, gathering a small ball of snow in his hand. He was covered in snow almost instantly but didn’t seem to mind as he crawled on his knees across the front yard, rolling the snowball in front of him. Eurydice watched in curiosity as the ball grew in size, left a small track where it picked up its mass. When he was satisfied he stopped, right in the center of their yard, and stood to admire his handiwork. The ball of snow went up past his knees, and Orpheus sized it up with unabashed joy.

              “Come help me make the next one!” He implored, already bent down to form another snowball between his gloves. Eurydice moved slowly toward him, taking the snow from his hands and placing it on the ground. She rolled it like she’d watched him, felt it grow in size as she moved. The snow was letting cold seep through her pants and gloves, but Orpheus was chattering to her about what they’d gather for the snowperson’s eyes and nose and Eurydice barely felt the cold. She was far too busy hitching herself to the lift in his voice, the way the cold brushed his cheeks red and his hair fell haphazardly into his face. By the time she’d finished the middle, he’d rolled a sizeable head. It took both of their power to get the middle in place, and when Orpheus stacked the head, the pair couldn’t help but laugh at their creation. Where it had once been just taller than Orpheus’s knees, the snowperson’s head was taller than Eurydice, completely dominating their yard with its presence.

              Eurydice laughed, sitting down in the snow and looking upon their hard work. Orpheus was proud, prouder so to have caused the musical sound of her laughter. He danced around the snowperson, called it sir and ran inside to grab it one of his more outlandish hats. It took Eurydice sitting on his shoulders to get the hat on right, the two fumbling through the motion through tear-laden laughter, Eurydice resting her head atop Orpheus’s to try and catch her breath. They gathered coal from the fire for eyes, and dowels from their garden for arms. Orpheus hummed a tune under his breath, Eurydice attempting to follow it. It was something uplifting, with a sort of waltzing tune. He took her gloved hand in his, spun her as they danced around in their boots and coats, the snowman the focus of outlandish lyrics he made up on the spot, a story woven by the silly hat atop his head and two dowel arms that had once helped hold up the harvest they’d make into soup that night. The more he made up the more she laughed, clutched onto him and pressed herself against him, resting her head on his chest. He kept singing, attempting to solidify the lyrics of the snowman waltz that had her brushing her cold lips along his neck, her breathless laughter shaking against his chest.

              By the time they were finished they sky had begun to grow dark again, and they trudged in from the snow begrudgingly, beaming at the snowman that now watched over their tiny home. Orpheus poked the fire, and Eurydice began chopping vegetables for soup. As she was chopping, Orpheus could hear her humming his snowman song. He ran to an old notebook on the shelf, opened to a blank page, and began translating what they had created; what he had begun just to hear her laugh.

              Every year after this, Orpheus and Eurydice celebrated the first snowfall with a gigantic snowman, and a rather dramatized singing of their snowman waltz.  

[chloebeale]

FRIENDS DON’T | CH. 6/?

Original prompt

RATING: T | WORDS: 3,981 | ao3

Chloe is trapped inside of a fairytale. Well, no, it’s more like a romcom. Whatever it is, it isn’t real life, it can’t be.

But it is. That feeling of soft lips pressed firmly against her own, no intention of a gap forming between them, it’s both so sobering and so real, yet it’s like something from a fantasy, because Chloe has imagined this more times than she cares to admit. She’s imagined how it would feel to kiss Beca Mitchell, to have her held tightly in her arms. Watched the way her lips move, imagined them pressing to her own. Of course, there are no tears in her fantasies, but in this reality they’re very apparent, they soak Chloe’s cheeks like lukewarm drops of the saddest rain, and she can taste them bitterly against her lips.

“Lock the door,” she hears Beca mumble faintly into their moment. Her voice is both strained and desperate, it’s something Chloe doesn’t all together recognize. It catches her off guard, and as much as she wants to, as much as she does take a second or two to consider doing exactly what the other girl has asked, it’s that taste of salty tears hitting her tongue that has her forcing herself back to reality, to finally pulling away from what’s arguably the best kiss of her entire life.

Her chest rises and falls faster as she glances down at the shorter girl, and she notices Beca’s is doing the same.

“Chloe, lock the door,” Beca repeats. It’s just as difficult the second time to force herself not to do it. She’s sure she wouldn’t be able to ignore a third.

“Bec, no,” Chloe shakes her head, the ends of her auburn curls slightly damp as they sweep against her pale shoulders. The brunette doesn’t respond, so Chloe shoots an almost sympathetic look her way. “Not here.”

Has Chloe ever had sex in a public bathroom before? Sure. She’s adventurous, she’s very free with her body (and if you were to ask her, why shouldn’t she be? She has a lot to be confident about), but none of those times prior have ever meant anything, and that’s not going to be how things transpire between she and Beca. Everything between them means something. It always has. She’s not going to let the desperate ache of her body stop that now.

“Talk to me,” she continues in a soft, hushed tone. Her hand rises once more, long fingers delicately pushing a chunk of brown hair behind Beca’s ear. She studies her, notices the way her earrings all match today. Any other time, the sight would make her smile, but not right now. There are clearly more pressing matters at hand. “What’s going on?”

For half a second, she thinks she’s going to fight her. She thinks she’s going to tell her to lock the door again, but Beca simply stares back up at her, their gazes meeting the same way they have so many times before. And then the brunette is taking a small step back, her arms unwrapping slowly from around Chloe’s slender frame, and the redhead instantly misses the contact.

“You’re right,” Beca murmurs, volume muffled by the way her hands have blocked her mouth as she’s lifted them to rub over her face. There’s mascara staining her skin, her cheeks are tracked with tears causing her light foundation to run, her eyes are swollen and puffy. But if you were to ask Chloe, right here in this very moment, Beca has truly never looked so perfect.

And that almost feels like a selfish thought.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

That, right there, that simple sentence, is why Chloe isn’t kicking herself for stopping whatever was about to happen here. She doesn’t want to be an in the moment, potential mistake, something Beca will regret later.

“It’s okay,” Chloe soothes, her tone hopefully reassuring. A part of her wants to take a step closer, to close the distance between them, but she knows Beca by now. She knows how independent she is, how if she wants to come to her, she will. So, she just watches her carefully as the shorter girl looks over her reflection in the mirror, ready to reach out if need be. “Bec, do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No.” She sees her shake her head in response, gray eyes meeting her own in the bright reflection of the bathroom mirror. Her tears cause a heartbreaking shine. “No, I just want to get out of here.”

“Okay,” Chloe nods her head in understanding, shooting a small, comforting smile through the reflection. “I’ll order you an Uber.”

Of course, she wants to go with her. It’s evident that Beca shouldn’t be alone right now, but Chloe is also not trying to push. There’s a boundary, and it’s not one she usually takes much notice of – Chloe is guilty of missing a beat where personal space is involved – but right now it feels important for her to respect it.

They’ve crossed enough boundaries for one day, after all.

As she slips her phone from her pocket (of course her dress has pockets) and pulls up the Uber app, she hears Beca’s voice in the background. She can tell she’s begun to compose herself by now. She’s still sniffling, still trying to properly calm down, but she’s at least getting there. Her words sound more strong now, more sure. “Will you come with me?”

Blue eyes drift upward to study her expression, and Beca clears her throat as her line of sight meets her own.

“I mean, you don’t have to. You don’t have to leave the wedding. I’m fine on my own.”

Even now, even when she’s at an admittedly low low, Beca is still putting up those heavy walls, she’s still wielding that strong facade around her tough exterior, and Chloe can’t help the way she feels her mouth forming into a small smile. She bites down on her lip to keep herself from doing so openly, of course. Now really is not the time. And she doesn’t feel like smiling, she really, really doesn’t, because her best friend is going through something and she needs her. It’s just that… It’s just so Beca Mitchell. And Chloe has missed her. These past few weeks apart, Chloe has really, really missed her.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Chloe states, locking the screen and slipping her phone back into her pocket, “It should be here soon.” She’s still trying to keep her distance at least somewhat, still trying to give Beca space to breathe, but she can’t help herself as she finally moves from her spot, making her way into one of the bathroom cubicles to grab a wad of tissue, then heads a little more certainly toward Beca.

“Here,” she says, dampening the tissue under the faucet, then turns to face her friend. She pauses momentarily, giving Beca the option to move away or refuse her help, but she doesn’t. Instead, she drops her hands from where they’ve been kind of uselessly smearing her makeup more obviously across her skin, and Chloe takes a small step closer, lifting a hand to gently dab away the darker mascara spots from beneath her puffy eyes.

As she works, she can feel Beca’s watery stare on her. Chloe tries hard not to meet it, and instead focuses on trying to clean her up a little bit. If you were to ask Chloe who the strongest person she knows is, her answer would be Beca Mitchell every time. This doesn’t make her weak, the fact that she’s allowing her guard to fall slightly or her emotions to surface. If anything, it only makes her stronger, and that thought is running through her mind the whole time.

“You don’t have to do that,” Beca says, voice a little croaky. In spite of her words, she doesn’t actually stop her. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

Chloe pauses for the briefest moment, but only to meet Beca’s gaze. “Really? How many times have you taken care of me when I’ve been sad?” She asks, the question entirely rhetorical. Satisfied that her face looks a little less blotchy, hopefully enough to avoid questions, Chloe lowers her hand, admiring her work with a soft smile. “There, good as new.”

While her tone is still somber, Beca allows a small laugh to fall from her lips as she gazes over her reflection in the mirror. “Hardly.”

“Fine. But better than it was five minutes ago,” Chloe shrugs, shooting her friend a gentle smile. She disposes of the damp, mascara covered tissue. “Come on, we should go say bye to Rachel and the girls before the Uber gets here. We can just say one of us has a headache or something, nobody will ask questions.”

It’s automatic, the way Chloe’s hand stretches out toward Beca, and she can’t help but take note of the way that it just feels so natural, so normal, the way the brunette’s fingers intertwine with her own. She feels Beca’s grip tighten some, and Chloe responds with a reassuring squeeze of her own, having already decided she won’t be letting go.

While a few of the Bellas pout about them leaving early, nobody actually stops them, and the light is dim enough that they can’t see the missing makeup from Beca’s face. It was like Chloe had said, nobody had asked questions. Neither would’ve had answers, even if they had.

At least Chloe wouldn’t, anyway.

The car ride back to the hotel is fairly short. Chloe can imagine that if they’d stayed until the end, there would’ve been more of a struggle to get out of there as quickly. It had seemed like most of Barden University’s alumni were in attendance, after all. But Chloe enjoys the stillness of this. Of just the two of them seated side by side, their hands still clasped comfortably together, fingers still tightly locked.

Usually, Chloe is the type to talk to her Uber driver. (Chloe is the type to talk to anybody.) But not tonight. Tonight, she focuses on the brightness of the passing lights outside of the car window, and of the feeling of Beca’s hand held firmly in her own. Her thumb ghosts feather lightly along the shorter girl’s knuckles, something of a natural instinct, and she hopes that her feeble attempts at providing a comfort of some kind are not completely missing the mark.

Stolen glances are nothing new, and Chloe is really never the most subtle with them, especially not when it comes to Beca. However, she doesn’t think it’s right to sit and stare so openly at the other girl when there’s clearly something going on, something that Beca doesn’t want to talk to Chloe about. Or maybe she does, maybe she’s waiting until it’s just the two of them, somewhere a little more secure than a public restroom. Against her better judgment, Chloe finds herself glancing over anyway. She studies the way Beca’s curls have fallen throughout the day, the way they’ve loosened and become somewhat less uniform, how the strap of her dress has caused a small indent across the back of her shoulder, the pale skin around it a soft shade of pink.

It’s only when they finally pull up to their hotel that Chloe pulls her gaze away from Beca Mitchell.

And she doesn’t want to. She really, really doesn’t want to.

Chloe’s room is the first one they come to. She doesn’t even ask Beca if she wants to come in, she simply tugs her along behind her, and Beca doesn’t resist. The sound of high heels clicking against the ground is all that’s breaking the silence around them, and Chloe is almost waiting for the sound of a desperate sob to escape from the girl behind her. But it doesn’t. The brunette does let out a short sigh, though, her hand freeing itself gently from Chloe’s, and then she’s plopping down lazily onto the bed, with the redhead turning to cast blue eyes down upon her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chloe asks, voice somewhat cautious. Her tone is soft and calming, no pressure behind her words. Truth be told, she doesn’t even know what she’s asking. She doesn’t know if she’s referring to the passionate kiss the two had shared, the one that still lingers so heavily against her lips, or the events leading up to it that have Beca’s eyes still sore and puffy.

Either way, she doesn’t want to push.

“No,” Beca’s voice is strained as she responds. She sounds tired. Exhausted, even. And like so many times before now, so many times when Beca has stayed silent, kept her thoughts to herself, Chloe wishes she would talk. She wishes she would just… Talk.

Although Chloe finds herself slowly nodding her head, she lowers herself down carefully onto the edge of the mattress beside her friend, not quite ready to give up just yet. She still doesn’t want to push, she doesn’t want to make Beca feel uncomfortable. She just wants her to know that she’s there, that she’s listening. If Beca wants to talk, Chloe will listen.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” The redhead asks, her voice still quiet, gentle almost. She tilts her head slightly to the side as she gazes toward the other girl, taking note of the silent confusion written across her face. It’s like her prompt to continue. “Keep everything to yourself. You can talk to me, Beca. It’s me…”

It occurs to her quickly that maybe she shouldn’t have added that last part, because Beca had opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, and Chloe had dared herself for a moment to believe that she was finally going to confide in her. But then her lips close, lids along with them, and her head shakes slowly. “Exactly,” Beca says through gritted teeth, “It’s you.”

Chloe can’t read her tone. She’s usually so good at reading people, Beca especially. But right now, it’s almost like there’s a wall up between them. One Chloe doesn’t recognize. One that she wants to tear down, but she doesn’t know how.

“What… Does that even mean?” She questions, hesitation conveying her genuine confusion. “I’m your friend, Beca. You can talk to me.”

“My friend,” Beca echoes, and Chloe swears she hears a small laugh fall from the other girl’s lips. She doesn’t understand that, either. “We just kissed, Chloe. And not for the first time.”

A part of her wonders why Beca’s volume is rising, why she seems kind of… Angry? Her expression displays as much. But another part of her gets it, because she’s confused, too. She’s frustrated, she’s scared, but she’s trying to keep a level head. She speaks almost cautiously in return.

“I know,” Chloe nods her head matter of factly, “I know we did. And I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday. I’m sor–”

“Can you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Apologizing!”

The sudden snap to Beca’s tone catches Chloe off guard. Auburn brows tug together, and she watches the way the brunette seems to shuffle slightly away from her, edging closer to the other side of the bed. That’s the last thing she wants, for Beca to feel like she can’t even be near her. It breaks her heart. She swears she can physically feel it breaking her heart, and she doesn’t mean to look like such a wounded puppy as she stares in partial disbelief.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t do anything to apologize for. Sure, your timing was a little crappy, but you don’t have to be sorry for doing it, Chloe.”

She doesn’t mean to sound defensive in her response, but Beca can be so aggravating sometimes, just the way she is right now.

“Well, clearly I do, because now you’re laughing at the idea of calling me your friend.”

“Because we kissed! We kissed, Chloe,” Beca shoots back, feet planting firmly down on the floor as she pushes herself off of the bed. It’s not often that Chloe is the one looking up between the two of them, but she does now. She stares up at her, waiting for her to go on. “You think friends kiss? You think friends have wanted to kiss their friend for… Fuck… Years now?” Beca’s hands rise in an exaggerated shrug. “Friends don’t do that, Chloe. They just don’t.”

Chloe stands now, too. It’s like she doesn’t even have full control of her body anymore, because she’s rising from the bed without even thinking about it, standing close enough to smell the sweet, faint remnants of Beca’s perfume.

“Okay, then maybe we’re not friends,” she retorts, her words leaving her lips before they’ve even properly processed in her mind, “I don’t know what we are, but maybe we’re not just friends. Maybe we’re supposed to be something more than that, I don’t know. Maybe…” Chloe cuts herself off, gaze locking with that familiar blue-gray, the one Chloe would look for in every crowd, notice in any room. She lowers her volume, tone calmer. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” Beca asks, her question for some reason throwing Chloe off completely. It’s not like it’s out of left field, it’s literally the topic at hand. But Chloe opens her mouth, no words coming out. It’s answer enough for Beca, though.

“Exactly. And friends don’t do that.”

It’s clear that Beca is upset. She’s having a bad day, Chloe knows that much might even be an understatement, and she really isn’t trying to make it worse. So she just stares, just looks at her in confusion, like a deer caught in the headlights that are those blue-gray orbs.

There’s something between them. It’s nothing new, it’s nothing that hasn’t been there for the better part of four years now. Whenever it’s just the two of them, whenever they’re alone, there’s always something there. It hangs thickly in the air, almost daring them to step out and touch it, to explore it. To figure out what it means. It’s there now, and it’s maybe even stronger than ever.

Beca can feel it, too. Chloe knows she can.

“Look, I’m going to go, okay?” Beca backs toward the door, her eyes never leaving Chloe. The redhead wants to stop her, to tell her to stay here, because they evidently have something to talk about, but she doesn’t.

Beca walks swiftly out of the door, and Chloe doesn’t stop her.

What just happened, Chloe doesn’t know. She just finds herself glued to the spot, staring at the door as it swings closed. There’s a deafening silence surrounding her, and Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. So she just… Stands. She stands, right there in that same spot, and she waits for her mind to process what’s going on here. For some indication of what the hell is happening.

And then her feet are moving. They’re carrying her toward the door, and there’s a purpose behind her movements. They’re quick and deliberate, fueled by frustration and confusion.

Chloe tugs open the door, and before she even realizes what’s happening, Beca is falling into her arms, lightly glossed lips pressing harshly to her own.

And Chloe kisses her back. She doesn’t even think about it, she doesn’t have to think about it. Her body does the talking for her, hands lowering to slender hips and fists clutching at dark material. Chloe feels soft, warm palms against her cheeks, the sound of quiet, desperate whimpering between their connected lips. She backs into the room, Beca following suit, and the door swings closed behind her again.

This time, neither of them is going anywhere. Neither of them wants to.

Unlike their kisses prior to this one, this one doesn’t stop. They don’t suddenly realize that what they’re doing is wrong, because it’s not. It’s not wrong of them to finally give in to the most natural desire. It doesn’t feel wrong, the way Beca’s body presses flush against Chloe’s, the shorter girl guiding them back toward the bed. Beca’s hands fall from Chloe’s face until her arms are wrapping around her neck, the mattress hitting the back of her legs the only thing reminding her that this is real, that this is actually happening. Arms snake their way around the brunette’s waist, lifting her up as Chloe lays back onto the bed with Beca now hovering over the top of her, knees planted either side of her thighs.

There’s an ache between her legs. It’s both familiar and new, so normal yet so terrifying, and God, Chloe wants to give into it. She wants to tell Beca to rip off her dress and feel exactly what she’s doing to her, but she won’t. Now’s not the time. She has no intention of pulling away, but they’re not going to go all the way here. Chloe is not going to be a one time, in the moment hookup, and she knows Beca doesn’t want her to be. Right here, conveyed through the sheer power and passion of this kiss, she knows that Beca feels the same way she does.

Just because they’re not going to take this too far doesn’t mean they have to stop, though Chloe does finally pull back, head leaning back into the soft sheets to stare up at the girl above her, chest rising and falling faster, eyes desperately searching her face. She can barely process her thoughts, though she knows that she’s not alone. Beca is just as confused as she is. But they know that this is right. They both know that this, whatever it is... It’s where they’re supposed to be.

Blue eyes lower to swollen lips just in time for Beca to close the gap between them again, their mouths moving hungrily against one another’s. Chloe moves her hands to Beca’s waist, gripping onto her gently as she flips them over, with Beca now on her back and Chloe climbing on top of her. A small, quiet moan vibrates against her lips, and she feels Beca’s tongue pushing its way eagerly into her mouth.

Lips parting to allow her tongue the access it craves, Chloe slips her own past Beca’s soft, kiss-swollen lips, hips grinding down into the other girl’s. She feels hands trailing up her back, until slender fingers are sliding into her messy hair, grip tightening just enough to convey her desire, the same one Chloe feels, too.

She knows this could go too far. She knows it would be so easy to let this keep going, but she isn’t going to, and it takes all of the strength she can muster for Chloe to finally pull back. Her eyes have closed, but they flutter open to begin scanning Beca’s face, trying to read her expression. They’re both breathing faster, both so entirely caught up in the moment, but their gazes lock, and neither speaks. They don’t have to, they’ve always been able to communicate through those familiar looks alone, and now is no different. Maybe it’s a new circumstance for them, but they’re still Beca and Chloe, they’re no different.

“Friends don’t do that,” Beca finally says, voice small as it breaks into the comfortable quiet surrounding them. There’s a tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks, it darkens the tip of her nose, and Chloe studies every part of it, every single piece of her expression.

She allows a small, quiet chuckle to fall from her lips, and sees the way Beca’s have curved slightly upward in return, bottom lip tugged in between her teeth.

“No, friends don’t,” Chloe shakes her head, quiet voice matching the stillness surrounding them, “But we do.”

[pythiea]

full bloom excerpt

i haven’t been able to write in a while because of school but here’s a small bit i wrote last week with hyacinthus and his brother. i love them.

taglist: @girlnovels @lvecrezias @novelistcore @hazeywrites @puffyswritings @boothewriter @baachands @hollenzwei @chivalrysdead-writes @shewolves @paranoidwriter @nerocael@omgbrekkerkaz @thestoryofsar @jess—writes @wolvesofarcadia @n1ghtw1ng @writesweet-writesour @citruschickadee

[whatshouldjustbeours]

Take Me Home

A/N: Hi! This is not a mirage! This is my second fic on a very short time. I guess all the promos and spoilers inspired me. Also... ONLY NINE DAYS UNTIL OUR SHOW IS BACK! FINALLY! I hope you guys like this one! A special thanks to my beta reader and Blindspot partner Thaís. I love you!

This is also on ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12693509/1/

Title from Jess Glynne's song Take Me Home.

Summary: Jane and Kurt first day back to work after getting together. Patterson has an open and honesty conversation with Weller about Jane's heart and Kurt makes a proposition to Jane that will change their lives. Jeller all the way.

Set some days after season 2 finale.

Every minute gets easier The more you talk to me You rationalize my darkest thoughts Yeah you, set them free

Came to you with a broken faith Gave me more than a hand to hold Caught before I hit the ground Tell me I'm safe, you've got me now

Would you take the wheel If I lose control? If I'm lying here Will you take me home?

Take Me Home

Jane felt equally nervous and excited as she rode the FBI elevator for the first time since telling Kurt where she wanted to be and that she loved him. In fact, after her confession in his hallway, they hadn’t spent one second apart.

They just had four much earned days off. Four heavenly days when their phones didn’t ring, nor the world was on the verge of ending. Four days to themselves, and their love, and their lovemaking. She sighed as remembered all those moments and how she wished they hadn’t ended so quickly.

Now they were back and she had no idea how their work dynamic would change now that they were together, or where she was supposed to go after work today – her safe house or back to his apartment? - or how she was supposed to spend eight hours restraining herself from touching him when that’s all she’d done the last few days.

“Jane? Are you okay?”

It was his voice that brought her back, his hand quickly grabbing hers, squeezing it and letting it go.

She looked up at him, instantly feeling better, her lips curving up into a small smile.

“I’m fine. I just…” – Wished we had more time that was just us.

“I know.”

He smiled at her, wanting nothing more than to press the button that would take them back to the parking lot so they could get out of there and go back to being just them.

“We’ll have more time later, I promise.” – He winked as she blushed.

“I’ll hold you to that.” – Jane said quietly as the doors opened and they stepped out of the elevator.

Even if everybody tried to be discreet, the pair felt all eyes on them. Jane was pretty sure her face was all red and with a quick sideways glance at Weller, their eyes locked for a second and she almost laughed when she saw him shaking his head. He knew it was his fault. It was him who declared himself to her with the comms still open.

She stopped at her desk and watched as he went on to his office. On his way there, he looked over his shoulder once at her, his eyes full of promises and they had a whole silent conversation. Then he turned back and reached his door.

She was almost sitting on her chair when Patterson’s voice reached her.

“Jane!” – The blonde analyst was suddenly in front of her, pulling her into a hug.

“Hi, Patterson.” – Jane hugged her back tight. She would always appreciate everything the other woman had done for her.

“I’m really glad we are all back.” – Patterson stepped back and sat on the edge of Jane’s desk. She looked over at Weller’s office, seeing him already behind his desk, some papers in front of him and then back at Jane. – “So… how were your days off?”

Jane followed Patterson’s previous line of sight and couldn’t contain the smile from appearing on her face. Kurt was already concentrating hard on some document, the whole world ceasing to exist as he focused on his job. She was lost in him until her friend cleared her throat.

“That good, huh?”

“Yeah. It was really good.”

Assuming a more serious expression, Patterson hopped off Jane’s desk and before departing, she put a hand on the other woman’s arm.

“You two deserve all the happiness you can find and I’m really, really glad you found it together.”

Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded, not trusting her voice.

“I’ll see you later, Jane.”

The blonde had barely taken three steps away towards her lab when Jane’s voice stopped her.

“Hey, Patterson!” – Their eyes met and held. – “Thank you for…” – Jane shrugged, not really finding the exact words to convey what the other’s actions meant to her. – “For everything.”

“That’s what friends are for, Jane.”

Jane nodded, feeling once again blessed for finding these people and calling them not only friends, but family.

It’s been two hours since they’d gotten there and his neck was already killing him. It was so much reports to read and to write it was times like these he remembered why he never wanted a desk job in the first place.

Lifting his head and massaging his nape, his eyes were inevitable drawn to her. She was in her chair and Zapata was beside her, both of them looking at something in Jane’s computer screen. One second later, they were bursting into laughter and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Jane so happy.

There was no one who deserved to laugh more than she did.

He was so distracted he didn’t notice Patterson entering his office and stopping in front of his desk.

“I was almost afraid you wouldn’t listen to me.”

His eyes snapped to her, not expecting anyone to catch him drooling over Jane.

“What?”

“I told you that if you had something to say to her, you should say it. Part of me was terrified you’d let her go without her knowing how you felt.”

“I almost did.”

“You are an idiot, Weller.” – Patterson sighed and dropped on one of the chairs.

“I can still fire you, you know?” – Kurt grumbled but there was no heat in his voice. They both knew he would never do it.

“Jane is the best thing that ever happened to you.” – He was struck speechless by her honesty. – “And I can’t believe you almost let her go because you are too stubborn to say anything.”

“I was afraid she didn’t feel the same way.”

“Bullshit, Weller.” – His eyes widened and his mouth opened at her choice of words. – “Jane wears her heart on her eyes. She always has. You knew exactly how she felt. You just weren’t sure she’d choose to stay here despite of it.”

She didn’t need to list every reason Jane had to leave, including the ones he was responsible for.

His face fell as the things he did to Jane passed through his mind. He’d treated her horribly and he doubted he would ever forgive himself.

“I’m sorry.” – Patterson’s voice snapped him out of his dark thoughts. – “I didn’t mean to,”

“It’s fine. And you are right.” – He admitted, his eyes drifting to Jane and back to his friend. – “I was terrified she would pack her things and leave. I had absolutely no idea if anything I said would make a difference.”

“But it did.” – Patterson smiled, scooting her chair closer to his desk. – “She doesn’t hold anything over you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” – He opened a little smile, eyes focusing once again on Jane. This time, as she pretended to watch Zapata return to her workstation, she stole a glance at his office. Their eyes connected for a brief second, a tiny smile flickering on her face.  – “She is just…” – He trailed off, not sure how to describe the woman who was everything to him without sounding too sappy.

As Patterson watched him watching Jane, she couldn’t be happier for him. They’d known each other for many years now and she had never seen him look at another woman – or any other person, for that matter - the way he looked at Jane. Nor she’d ever seen him look so happy. There was also a light in his eyes that’s never been there before.

“Jane is the strongest person I know but,” – She stopped, waiting for Weller to concentrate on her. Her pause had him raising his eyebrow and looking at her. – “She also has the softest of hearts. Don’t you dare breaking it, Weller because if you do, I swear to God I’m going to make your life a living Hell.”

He tried hard to look stern after her threat but he was pretty sure his face was showing his gratitude for the way she was looking out for Jane. God knew Patterson had been the only one in her corner when she returned to the FBI and he was glad she was there again now.

“I won’t.” – He’d die before he intentionally broke her heart again.

Of course there would be bumps along the way but they’d navigate it together.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. When Patterson was satisfied her warning had been received, she got up, ready to go back to her lab.

“You only came here to threaten me?” – He joked, also getting up. It was almost lunch time and he couldn’t wait to have a moment alone with Jane.

Patterson stopped mid way to the door and she took some steps back in his direction.

“Yes. Jane’s been through hell in the short time I know her. And I can only imagine what she’d been through before, in her other life. The list of heartbreaking things she carries with her is horribly long and I really don’t want you to be another bullet point there. Make this right, Weller.” – One of her hands reached out and touched his arm, lightly squeezing it. – “I know you aren’t too good at communicating but you have this amazing woman that for some reason is crazy about you. She loves you and the only reason she decided to stay is because of you. So please, please, don’t hold back and just talk to her, say things to her. Speak from your heart. God knows I regret all the things I never said because I thought I had time.”

She didn’t need to tell him who she was talking about. He knew. And not telling David she loved him and that she wanted to spend their lives together would always be her biggest regret.

Having said everything she wanted, Patterson patted his arm and got out of his office, leaving a speechless Kurt Weller behind. Message delivered, she guessed.

Kurt ended up intercepted on his way to Jane’s desk. Hirst arrived just as he was going to ask Jane to have lunch with him and the Director requested a meeting in his office. It lasted four hours, going well into the afternoon and the whole time Patterson’s words were on his mind.

He was bad at communicating. One year with him and Allie got tired of his closed off attitude. He didn’t think he ever told her he loved her. But with Jane… everything was different since the beginning. She had found a way to tear down his walls from day one. And he would never forget the way he first told her he loved her, for literally everyone to hear.

All of this only told him it would be different this time. It had to be because losing Jane was not an option. Never would be.

He’d make sure of that.

Jane looked at the clock for the thousandth time. It was almost 7 p.m. and Kurt was still inside his office. They barely talked during the day since he was with Hirst and some other important people from the Bureau most of the time.

She was wondering if she should go talk to him and ask when he intended to leave or if she should leave alone and go straight to her safe house. Would he assume that if she waited for him it meant she wanted to go back to his apartment? Because even if she did, she definitely didn’t want to pressure him or make him do anything he wasn’t comfortable with.

She was still debating this inside her head when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Kurt was standing up and gathering his things. Was he leaving? Would he offer her a ride? Would they have dinner together? She really hoped so.

She remained on her chair, pretending to read something on her computer. “Hey.” – He stopped by her side and she lifted her head, a smile welcoming him. – “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” She shut off her computer and took her phone, ready to leave this place for the day and hopefully enjoy the rest of the night by his side.

She led the way to the elevator and they silently waited for it to arrive. Glancing quickly at him, she noticed he seemed nervous. Was he asking himself the same things she was? Did Hirst say something that was making him change his mind about them? She didn’t exactly help his career with her past as Remi.

“Jane?” She was so lost in her own mind she didn’t see that the elevator was on their floor. They both stepped inside and Kurt pressed the button to the parking lot.

“Are you hungry?” – He asked quietly, noticing her mood had shifted while they were waiting for the elevator. Had he already screwed this up?

“Yes.” – She was starving while she was waiting for him but now, she wasn’t as much.

Her answer didn’t sound so convincing to him but he didn’t care. Her days of skipping meals and not taking care of herself were done.

“What do you say we order some take out on the way to my apartment?”

She looked at him, brightening up at the prospect of actually spending the night with him. Maybe he was not regretting all of this after all. She smiled and nodded, giving him her answer.

They walked to the car side by side, his hand itching to take hers and lace their fingers together. Their eyes met and she threw him a lopsided shy smile, telling him she was thinking of the same thing.

She was making her way around the SUV to the passenger side when she felt his hand on her arm, turning her around and pushing her against the car. His hands were on her hair and his mouth was on hers before she could even fully process that Kurt I Don’t Show My Emotions Weller was kissing her senseless in the parking lot of the FBI.

She returned his kiss, her tongue invading his mouth to find and battle his. He took another step forward, his whole body pressing against hers and making her moan. It was the sound that made him stop and he took a hasty step back, letting go of her as fast as he had grabbed her.

She laughed, loving how the always composed Weller looked so disoriented.

“Are you okay?” – She asked, not moving, afraid her legs would give out after the way he had kissed her.

“God, Jane.” – He looked around, making sure no one had caught them. – “You drive me crazy.”

She only laughed harder.

“So this is my fault now?” – She asked in a teasing voice.

“Absolutely.” – He growled and started to go back to his side of the car. – “Get in before I do something like that again and someone sees us.”

She did, not wanting to waste any more time on that building. She wanted more of his kisses, more of his touch and couldn’t wait to get to his apartment. 

The feeling of arriving at Kurt’s apartment after a long day of work instead of her empty safe house was incredible. It hit her in that moment how her life would be different from now on.

She didn’t have to worry about Sandstorm lurking in the shadows, ready to attack and kill her. She didn’t have to leave work and go home alone anymore. She didn’t have to find an excuse to spend time with Kurt after work during the week. And on the weekends, she’d have him all to herself and they could do amazing things together, like maybe visit places she always wanted to go but didn’t have the time or the desire to do it alone.

She didn’t know if she deserved this life she was getting but she vowed to herself to make the most of it.

“Why are you smiling?” – He was in front of her in the middle of the living room where she had stopped without even noticing.

She took the step needed to be right into his personal space, her arms going around his neck. His hands automatically drifted to her hips, holding her close.

“Because I’m happy.” – She said simply, letting her eyes show him the truth of her words.

Kurt felt his heart bursting with joy. Her smile had always been a rare thing to see but since they’ve stopped Sandstorm and spent all of their time together days ago, he’d seen more and more of it.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Jane.” – He whispered to her, Patterson’s words immediately coming to mind.

Jane’s been through hell in the short time I know her. And I can only imagine what she’d been through before, in her other life. The list of heartbreaking things she carries with her is horribly long.

“We both do.” – She echoed his words from the plane back to him.

“I’m happy too, you know?” – She titled her head to the side, sensing he was going to say more. One of his hands came up and caressed her on the cheek. Speak from your heart. – “And that’s all because of you.”

“Yeah?” – She was looking at him with so much happiness in her eyes that he felt like his heart was going to explode.

Say things to her.

“I love you so much, Jane.” – The words came effortlessly as if his heart had been waiting his whole life for her and now it could finally speak freely.

“I love you too, Kurt. Very, very much.”

They leaned forward at the same time, meeting haflway in a tender and sweet kiss. Time slowed down as the two of them enjoyed the moment together without fear of getting caught or interrupted.

“I thought you were hungry.” – Kurt muttered against her mouth, feeling her hands unbuttoning his shirt.

“I am.” – She said suggestively, quickly working on his buttons.

In a sudden move, he took her in his arms, one arm behind her knees, another behind her back and carried her to his bedroom.

They had dinner only after a long time.

After brushing his teeth, he thought he was going to find her curled up in her side of the bed but as he came out of the bathroom, she was nowhere to be seen.

He went to the living room in search of her and finally found her on the balcony, her back to him. He silently slid the door open and stopped directly behind her, his arms encasing her and his hands resting on the protective rail in front of them.

“Hey. Is everything ok?”

“Everything is perfect, Kurt.” – She snuggled closer to him. – “I was just appreciating the view. You can’t ever get tired of it, can you? It’s beautiful.”

She’d loved his balcony ever since she stepped on it for the first time on their second day together.

“It is.” – One of his hands left the rail and ended up on her stomach. – “I usually come here to think. And when I do that, it’s mostly about you.”

She chuckled, imagining him in this place, thinking of her with the whole NYC in front of him.

“Did you ever think one day we’d be together in this place?”- She turned around, her arms coming up to circle his neck. – “Like this?”

“I dreamed about it. About having you here in my arms and kissing you right on this spot.”

“You did?”

“Thousands of times.”

She smiled shyly, averting her eyes from his intense stare. She shifted, once again facing their wonderful view.

“This is a nice change from the lack of view of my safe house.”- It was a simple statement and he knew she didn’t mean anything by it but it broke his heart that she would never see her safe house as a home and would always refer to it as what it was: just a safe house.

There was one thing he could do about that…

Make this right, Weller.

“Speaking of your safe house,” – He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him again. He had to see her when he uttered his next words. – “What do you say we return it to the FBI and you can come and live here? You’d have this view you love so much whenever you want.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke, her mouth opening but not a sound coming out.

“What?” – She ultimately asked. Surely she’d heard him wrong. Mr. Choosy couldn’t be proposing what she thought he was.

“Move in with me, Jane.”

He waited anxiously as she processed his request. What is it too soon? Too much? Was she not ready for this next step?

“Yes.” – She interrupted his train of thought, her voice sure and her eyes sparkling. – “I’d love to live with you, Kurt.” – Her voice broke in the end, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t even phantom the idea of finally having a place to call home.

A place with Kurt Weller, the love of her life.

He hugged her tight, also not quite believing what was going on. Now he’d get to wake up with her in his arms every day. He’d be able to cook for her all of their meals. And they’d come and go to work together.

Together.

“Thank you.” – She whispered, kissing him on his cheek.

He shook his head, his hands framing her face.

“Thank you, Jane.”

They made love for the second time that night on the floor of the balcony she loved so much and that had just changed their entire lives.

Later, as he held her in his arms in their bed, he couldn’t help but imagine Patterson’s reaction to this news. He was going to tell her it would be his mission to give Jane a list of wonderful and happy memories to make her forget all of her heart breaks.

Today had just been another bullet point on this new list.

And he couldn’t wait to keep adding more.

[serenefreakgeek]

Last Names (Chapter 10)

Hey, guys! I just wanted to say that this may be the last chapter I upload for about a week. I'm not sure exactly how long my absence will last, but just know that by the time I come back I'll definitely have more chapters to upload! I won't stop writing just because I'm losing my data&wifi. I wanted to ask a favor! I want reviews/comments of my fic! I know a lot of people have commented or messaged me already telling me what they think, and again I thank you guys so much for that. But I would love to have a lot of things to read once I get back! Sort of like a welcome back present, I suppose? You guys always make me super happy anytime I'm able to read any response to my story I find. And I will definitely have a lot of things for you guys to read once I get back as well! I'm even working a special project (A few actually 'cause I'm like that) that I hope you guys will like! Keep your eyes out! When I come back, it'll be a mass upload party! I'll upload more than I usually do in one day, and reply to any comments/messages/etc that I receive! I hope you all have a wonderful week!

You can find the fic here!

Tag list: @drarry0394 @ramenbahman @thean0nym0usmusician @whatin--tarnation @pachimarissa

[If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list, don't hesitate to let me know!]

[mintwriting]

For the Sake of the Sound

    It was always a joyous occasion, full of bluegrass music and apple stack cake ripping through the air. The bodies attending populated the field, speaking to one another about the goings on since their last meeting. Those who had been invited had come from all around the globe, heading back to the place where it all began for them; they came back home. When he had arrived, everyone was already standing around chatting, dressed up in their best and drinking their fill. He blended in fairly well, slipping in without a huge fuss from anyone. He liked it better this way, being in the shadows and speaking only when spoken to. It made things easier. Despite the overwhelming feeling he always acquired at these kinds of functions - much like the feeling one gets when they tip too far back in a chair - he could appreciate them, for the most part. He always thoroughly enjoyed the part he played, regardless of the occasion. He unzipped the bag he held in his right hand and pulled out the mandolin by the neck, gently. It was like wielding a sword for him; he was entering into a den of lions and he needed to fight for his life. He had tuned it before he came and after eight quick, soft plucks, he was confident that he would be okay. It was the confidence that propelled him to step up onto the handmade stage. It was sturdy, but the creaks of the boards from use made him stare down at his feet until he reached the front. His eyes darted up to look at the crowd and he took a breath that inflated his tummy and brought his heart rate down, if only momentarily. "I think it's important to remember," he began, his voice wanting him to be as fierce as he had felt only a few seconds ago. People began to look over at him with smiles on their faces and some with wetness staining their cheeks. "That this isn't goodbye." He strummed once, getting into his groove. "Your relationship with her hasn't ended. It's just different, y'know?" His voice began to get a bit stronger and he finally sounded like he was certain about his statement. "You can still talk to her about your day and you can still cry to her about your problems. Your relationship doesn't need to end. It's just different." He started to feel a bit faint so he stopped talking and began picking a soft reel that led into a solo rendition of Amazing Grace. It took five minutes, if that, and he felt like he had been transported to a world where time slid by on oceans of molasses. After he heard the clapping, he bowed his head and wordlessly stepped off to go find a tall glass of Dandelion wine.

    After everyone who was going to perform and say something did so, the group made their way to the edge of the forest. Their target: a freshly dug hole. Once surrounding the hole with as much symmetry as possible, one man sat the sapling down near the hole and a woman brought the ivory, ornate jar to sit it next to the young tree. The group joined hands and bowed their heads, keeping silent as they sent prayers up to their Lord, thanking and giving praise for such a beautiful day for a funeral. After five or so minutes of silence, the woman took the top off of the jar and tears welled up in her eyes as she gently shook half of the contents into the hole. The man placed the sapling on top of them and together they mixed the rest of the ashes with the dirt that packed the sapling in. Once the mound around the trunk was complete, the group joined hands again. This time, however, they kept their eyes on the tree; soon enough, it'd bear apples like some of the trees around it and someone somewhere would partake of those apples and be blessed by them. It was the sweetest thought to him, knowing his mother would've want it this way. After he let go of his great auntie's hand, he tried to leave without enduring bone-crushing hugs and endless kisses. It was a futile effort and he was foolish for trying.

    Once he walked home and wiped the lipstick off of his cheeks and forehead, he stood and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He stared himself down and forced himself to gaze into the windows of his soul, muddy as they may be. He didn't see any disembodied, glittery, soul stuff, which was sorely disappointing, but he did reach a conclusion: he wasn't happy. It took his brain a few times to think that short sentence through before it began to sink like an anchor to the floor of his stomach. It was a hard thing for him to accept; his life was, by all accounts, ordinary and full of love. He had nothing to be unhappy about, that much he was certain of, but the black bottom line remained the same. He went to his bed and sat crisscross applesauce, pondering his options. There were multiple and they all came down to him leaving the security blanket that was Appalachia. His heart beat in protest just thinking about all of the unfamiliar sounds and smells, let alone the people. Surely there were other options? He could stay in the town and find someone to apprentice for, perhaps. Or maybe volunteer his hands and heart to the community kitchen full time. Even as he tried to convince himself that he could do either of those things, he felt something stir in him and that something boomed. It let him know those were not viable; it let him know that he knew what he needed to do. Vaguely. With a sigh, he stripped himself down to his birthday suit and climbed under his quilt, deciding it would be best left for the clear morning air.

    If only his dreams would allow him to rest.

    Trees shot up around him. They towered at least three hundred feet above him, higher than any city skyscraper he had ever encountered, and he began to run through the well-spaced rows. The feeling of impending doom blanketed him and it caused him to run faster, though he hardly knew what he was running from and even in dreams he wasn't nearly bold enough to look over his shoulder. It never occurred to him that that was even an option. He could see a bright spot ahead of him in the darkness of the forest and he ran toward it, hoping there was some salvation to be found there. Instead, there was nothing. As soon as the light touched him, the plane he was on ceased to exist and he was left with a blank canvas, floating and suspended in his movement. Then he realized it was only a dream. Such a realization always shook him out of his sleep with a jerk and this time was no different. What was different, however, was that he had made up his mind once the dust of panic settled. He had to leave. It didn't matter where he went, he assumed, as long as he was letting his spirit and intuition guide him. He tossed the quilt off of him and ran around his room, picking up three sets of clothes, five pairs of socks, his Guide to the North American Countries, toothbrush and accompanying paste. All of these thing were promptly shoved into his pack before being zipped up and thrown into the corner, waiting for the morning light.

    Once his shoes were laced up, he was off with nothing beyond his pack, his mandolin, and what little nerve he possessed. Throughout his relatively short life, he had found that nerve was all you really needed to do something, no matter how little you might have. Simply choosing to employ it was good enough for most things in life. He had left a note on the counter in his house for whoever came to check on him, letting them know that he would be back before the Winter Solstice festival. It felt kind of like he was Brutus to their Caesar, but he didn't have the requisite vocabulary to describe what he was feeling and he knew that they would ask. He couldn't do it. What he could do, though, was let them know he was emotionally okay and would check in between now and then, that he was off to find his purpose. He looped his thumbs around the straps of the pack, feeling as tall as he honestly was for once in his life, and strutted down the decently maintained trail. It felt so right, but he still had no idea what he was looking for. Was this one of those 'putting the cart before the horse'-type situations? How many people really began their Wanders with ideas of what they were doing? He could not have been the first, but it felt so lonely for a brief moment before he noticed the light dripping down from the canopy to nourish the ground beneath and warm his face. His racing mind halted and he could finally hear the loving calls of birds communicating with one another, the rustling of leaves above from various animals, the lulling sounds of the woods. It was bizarre how his town could be so close with nature but still be so separated, how his mind always found it soothing to exchange the sounds of people gabbing to one another for birds probably just screaming at each other. The smells were different too, despite the flora and fauna in the area being the exact same. Maybe freedom smelled differently. Maybe the scent of captivity and community of the human variety smelled like something else entirely; it wasn't a rancid odor that he was fighting to get off of him, but he preferred the fragrance out here and he wagered he'd be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't. He hadn't made the time to venture too far beyond the town's border in a long time; there wasn't anything he needed out here. It wasn't too safe to do, anyway.

    He walked for a good few hours, feeling like someone were holding his consciousnesses gently in their hands while he ambled until he reached a bench. The wood boards were a little old, but he made sure to sit slowly and to ease his weight onto them before sitting fully on it. It had just dawned on him that he hadn't packed any food. If he hadn't been in such a rush to leave maybe it would've been different, but he figured that there was enough food out here for him to eat.  Right? What if the world beyond Appalachia wasn't like it? What if food wasn't out in the open or readily available or anything? With a deep breath, he leaned himself back and shut his eyes. He couldn't go back. He couldn't go back. He had to keep pressing forward. He mentally repeated these statements to himself but before he was completely convinced, he heard people talking. And they were on the move. His eyes shot open and he sat up just as quickly, looking in the direction of the people. Since he couldn't see them yet, he decided it was best to move along - briskly. The last thing he needed was to get caught up with strangers right now.

    After an afternoon of walking without another incident, he came upon a small town, if you could call it that. It was hardly as big as his home; the buildings numbered in the tens, if that, and the amount of people milling about totaled 30. But it was getting dark and if he didn't find himself a place to stay soon, he'd be out there in the wild; a sitting duck. His heart sank at the thought and he started down the sidewalk, holding his head up high and looking around only with his eyes. It was hard to imagine he blended in when he probably looked like he was trying much too hard to go unnoticed, not to mention the amount of people who lived here made it difficult to lie with your body language about your origins. A sign creaked in what little wind blew through and he turned his head toward it. There it was! Shelter! His pace quickened until he reached the intricately-carved doorway and he knocked.

[kelseykimson-blog]

You called out my insecurities, And I let them hurt me. You revealed my cover up, And I made my tears drop. You judged my craziness, And I put up my fence. You took away my happiness, And I'm killed by my own thoughts. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Credits:(writing:mine) #love #hate #insecure #insecurities #cruel #anger #poetry #poems #poem #mypoetry #imagine #image #postoftheday #instagood #instagram #instagrammer #tumblr #followforfollow #follow4follow #like4like #likeforfollow #followers #following #new #page #support #bettertogether #live

[paintedbutton]

✍🏼 Writing pride tag

Thank you @winterandwords for tagging me!

📝 Post a snippet you are extra proud of having written.

This is a snippet from Worthy of a King, as I was recently going through it. While I'm proud of a lot of it (ngl), I was reminded that I am actually very proud of the small - miniscule - moments where you can see the personality of someone like the Sparrow slip through their mask. This is one such moment, and I really like it.

“What’s your excuse then? I can believe the captain’s failure to be just that. I am more inclined to consider yours deliberate.”

Bran looked up at the jab, but the Sparrow stilled entirely. An expression flickered over their face, there and gone and impossible to interpret. There was a knife in their hand, he noticed suddenly, one they must usually keep secured in their sleeve. A pinprick of blood welled where they pressed their ring finger against the edge.

“Majesty,” they said heavily, “I have sworn an oath to you, and to this family. I serve that oath. I admit that I failed, gravely, but you insult me if you truly believe there was intent behind it.” They stared at each other.

Tagging @writernopal , @oh-no-another-idea and @abiteofhoney

[pythiea]

opening bit of my currently untitled fantasy found here

[whatshouldjustbeours]

Ask Me Your Questions (Jeller)

A/N: Forgive me but this is what my brain comes up with at 1am after rewatching some scenes from episode 2x09. Hope you guys like it! 

Takes place about a week after season 2 finale. Ask Me Your Questions The first week back to work after stopping Sandstorm was full of reports to fill and statements to give. They inevitably touched subjects that hurt like hell, hopefully for the last time. That day, Kurt was examining documents from previous weeks so he could wrap everything up when he remembered something he always wanted to ask Jane.

He looked down at her, now currently lying with her head on his chest, their legs tangled up.

"Can I ask you something?"

Jane looked up at him curiously, nodding her head.

"When you were alone with Sandstorm that last time," - He gulped, not really wanting to remember all the times he let her go meet their enemies on her own. - "And you called us from the compound, you thought you were not making it back. You started to say something to me but I cut you off, assuring you we were coming for you."  

He saw in her eyes that she knew the moment he was talking about.

"What were you gonna say?"

He would be forever glad she was able to escape alive from that showdown but a part of him always wondered what she thought her final words to him would be.

"I was going to say that I was sorry for everything and that… I loved you."

He pulled her tighter against him, a chill running down his spine just imagining not being in the moment they were right now and what his life would be without her, without her love.

"I have no idea how you could love me back then. Every time I think about what I put you through during those months, I really, really don't love myself."

She smiled a little at that, knowing he would always carry this guilt around with him, no matter how many times she said she had already forgiven him.

"I've always loved you, Kurt. And it never really stopped."

"Would you believe if I told you I've always loved you too?"

Her eyes locked with his and she nodded, not a doubt in her face.

"I believe you, Kurt."

"I'm sor,"

"No. Enough with that. We are past all of that, okay?"

She cupped his jaw, her lips finding his in a sweet kiss.

"I love you." - He whispered in her ear, rolling them so he was on top of her.

"I love you too, Kurt."

He spent the next minutes kissing her everywhere he could reach. First her neck, which always made her giggle, then her cheeks and finally her mouth. When they stopped a minute to breathe, it was her turn to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

He saw her blushing and raised an eyebrow.

“What are your other favorite things about me?”

He laughed at that, perfectly remembering this conversation. He wanted to say so much to her back then. Confess to her all of his favorite things about her or how she definitely shouldn’t go out with Oliver. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right, not when she seemed truly happy for the first time in a long time. He would never be the one to diminish it. Not again.

“Oh, Jane.” – He murmured, a hand coming up to lovely caress her face. – “Your eyes.” – He looked deeply into them. – “I’ve always felt I could lose myself in them and I always had to fight not to let it happen.”

“Your fight is over, you know?” – She said just as low as he was talking.

“I know.”

Oh he knew. He was losing himself in all of her – eyes especially - for a week now. “What else?”

“Your heart.”

He felt her tense, her lips opening to maybe contradict him but he was already shaking his head, one of his fingers pressing against her lips to stop her from saying something bad about herself.

“I’ve never seen a heart as beautiful as yours and I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of it.”

Her eyes filled with tears hearing his words and his silent promise. She truly, truly hoped they had the rest of their lives together.

He used his thumb to dry the corner of her eyes, his lips finding hers in another slow kiss.

“Your kisses.” – He muttered against her lips. – “I was dying for another one for a long time.”

“Me too.” – Kissing him was even invading her dreams. Maybe one day she’d tell him about it.

Her hand found his nape, bringing him down to her mouth again.

“I could spend the rest of the night listing my favorite things about you, Jane.” – He said, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him. She ended up sprawled all over him, a laughter escaping her at the unexpected movement.

“I have other activities in mind for the rest of the night.” – She crawled on top of him, their face barely an inch apart. – “It’s my favorite thing about us.”

She had that devious, yet shy smile on her lips that told him exactly what she had in mind.

“And what is that?” – He teased, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

“Making love.” – She whispered in his ear, her hot breath making him shiver. – “Make love to me, Kurt.”

[serenefreakgeek]

I'm back!

Hey guys! I'm back!

I've uploaded 2 chapters to Last Names ! But that's not all I've written for being gone for most of the week. I've started a new fic, called Blood Moon ! This new one may have a more mature rating than my original (purely for violence/angst reasons) but I hope if you choose to read it that you'll enjoy it!!

Glad to be back!

Tag List: @pachimarissa @thean0nym0usmusician @drarry0394 @ramenbahman @whatin--tarnation

[paintedbutton]

Not a tag, but I believe it's high time I do a little Sunday share again. I got sick in the middle of this week, so I've mostly been taking it easy and playing Kingdom Come: Deliverance (can you tell I'm enjoying myself?).

This bit is from March, and I do hope it conveys its feeling properly.

The rolling thunder held a heartbeat. At first it sounded like their own, and then it changed. Between one blink and the next, the torrent poured down on them. They hunkered into the shadow of their hood and followed the path of their feet, not thinking about the blank space in their mind that held the decision to brave the weather. Not thinking about the time it had swallowed. The heartbeat thumped stronger with each growling crash of thunder. It was madness, to be out here. It was inevitable. The altar stones rose before their eyes.

They couldn’t tell when they had taken off their gloves, couldn’t be sure whether they had even worn them in the first place. The surface of the altar was slippery even through the roughness when they placed their hand upon it. It ran thicker than water. It felt like blood. They turned, and the maelstrom enveloped them.

[actiaslunaris]

Utsumi clears her throat again.

"Are you all right?" he asks, moving closer.

She shakes her head, says, "Tickle in my throat. It's just that ti--" she snaps her head up. "Never mind. It's probably nothing."

He says, "Open your mouth." The urgency in his command almost works; her mouth falls open a little before she shuts it, lips thin, and puts distance between them, a step back.

Safe, she says, "What? No."