ablurredglass
through a glass, darkly
ɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀ ɢʟᴀꜱꜱ [ ... ] ᴅᴀʀᴋʟʏ.
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If anyone wants to plot or write on discord, even if we have never once interacted before, just add me (username in tags) <3
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“look, i’d warned you to stay away from them, but you never listened, did you?”
Pointy pale chin juts out in defiance as he throws the scraggly-looking man a look of loathing. If there's one thing Draco doesn't have the patience for, it's the Order's lackies.
"And why should I listen to the likes of you?" he questions scathingly.
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“tell me, did you do it?” (Rose to Jack - Timeguardians)
Chaos consumes them as the night unfolds. What was once a mild annoyance among some 1,300 passengers has tumbled quickly into terror--Titanic is sinking. Jack's barely had time to wrap his mind around the uncertainty of life beyond the next couple hours, and now Hockley's gone and framed him for theft. Jack would wring that idiot's neck if he could, but violence amongst the emergency they're already experiencing would do no good. And he doesn't really care about what happens to himself, tried and convicted as he may as well be by the wealthy gentleman, but he does have one precious thing to lose.
Rose.
His dark eyes flit to her frightened face. They should be worried about getting her to safety, yet here they stand debating the fate of a necklace. He's angry with everyone involved, but especially infuriated that Hockley would even consider this ridiculous notion at a time when his fiance's life is in stake.
"I would never," he tells her with every effort to keep his voice even. Panic and restlessness are creeping up his throat, but he needs to clear this with the one person who matters so that she'll allow him to see her off to safety. There is no reason left to hide, as the romance that has developed between them is overwhelmingly obvious to anyone with eyes. He lifts a hand to catch a red curl blown across her face by the cold night air, swallowing hard against a lump of fear. "Believe me, Rose, I wouldn't be so stupid to risk losing you."
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Hi, can I ask for some betrayal prompts?
“how could you?”
“why did you do it?”
“i can't believe it.”
“we were your family!”
“ no! ”
“i refuse to believe it.”
“he couldn’t have!”
“tell me, did you do it?”
“there’s no way...”
“you filthy liar!”
“i knew it!”
“look, i’d warned you to stay away from them, but you never listened, did you?”
“please tell me you didn't...”
“i trusted you... i loved you.”
“tell me where i went wrong!”
“was it my fault?”
“i knew you were a lying backstabber all along!”
“you are never going to change, are you?”
“i never loved you.”
“i was a fool to have fallen in love with you.”
“i was a fool to believe your lies.”
“you played me, didn't you.”
“something doesn't add up.”
“she's playing me.”
“i’m not a puppet.”
“not anymore.”
“low blow, [name].”
“you knew he was my Achilles’ heel, so you targeted him - to hurt me.”
“i’m not giving you another chance.”
“people like you never change.”
“you, so eager to betray, ask me of loyalty?”
“you really thought i wouldn’t figure it all out?”
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OOC. I know I owe a couple of replies and starters so I will hopefully get to those within the next few days.
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@homiines @blaesus
Astoria Greengrass moodboard
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hp aesthetic → jinxes
________________
A jinx is a type of Dark charm, whose effects are irritating but amusing.
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OOC. I used to be active on @malfyd for a long time so you may know me from there (or take a peak to see my draco malfoy in action).
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ind. priv. sel. MULTIMUSE as written by Haley. advanced lit, medium activity, canon & headcanon based. mutuals are always welcome to plot & chat.
all blog information here !
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The next hour of their journey brought a mix of emotions--relief to survive such a horrific event, despair for those who had not, and the pure chaos of hundreds of shocked survivors crowded onto the already full-liner that came to their rescue. Rose wasn't prepared to let go of Jack as the crew of this mysterious rescue ship reached down to her. She felt tiny, insecure, unprepared to leave the lifeboat that saved her life. They pulled her over the side of the ship where she collapsed with exhaustion. It was impossible to discern what all happened after, but Rose recalled repeating over and over to the steward taking notes that she was with Jack, she wasn't leaving Jack, don't they dare separate her from Jack.
Her next waking moment is much brighter and warmer than the black, frigid night. Before her eyes even open Rose registers the golden glow of sunlight behind her heavy lids. She is still quite fatigued. Not daring to yet face the world, she takes a mental scan of her body. No longer is her skin frozen, and her toes can wiggle freely under the papery sheet covering them. She feels the tickle of her curls on her face, but they are no longer wet with sea water. Consciousness stirs in her hands next, upon which she realizes with a jolt to the heart that she's grasping another warm hand. It's bigger, rougher, and familiar in a way that transcends the short time they've had together.
When Jack says her name, Rose finally feels at ease. She blinks her eyes awake, focusing her bleary gaze upon him. Though it takes a moment to focus, he's the most beautiful sight she's ever seen. Tired, pale, and worn, but alive, and only an arm's length away. Her lips part in awe, but there's no words to speak. Only tears come, first gentle pricks at her waterline before they inevitably spill over and cascade down her cheeks.
At some point in time, the rickety lifeboat must have found it’s way to rescue. Jack had no memories after being pulled from the icy, dark waters, and being pulled aboard the Carpathia ladders was a blur.
As his eyes finally opened, Jack immediately noticed he could feel his body-a sensation that had been lost minutes after hitting the water. The sheets beneath him were scratchy, and he could hear mumbled voices and conversation around him. Searching the environment, it was clear this was a makeshift hospital for the survivors. He had survived- and that was nothing short of a miracle.
To his side, he smiled, as he saw her delicate had holding fast to him. Her thick, red, curls covered her face, but Jack didn’t need to see her face to know that Rose was utterly exhausted. It was a good thing she was here, he took it. If she was here, holding his hand, then she must have been okay herself. “Rose:..” Jack softly went to move his hand, not necessarily wanting to wake her, but also not really caring if he did.
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I updated my two-year-old pinned post as a little welcome message because I figure if I’m going to be around here, I should at least have something to say about this blog!
Also here’s my carrd link for some information about this blog.
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Her pounding heart doesn't slow until his eyes open. The small orbs of brown surrounded by a swath of darkness are an instant relief, and Rose exhales a choked sigh she wasn't aware she was holding. They're going to make it. He's going to make it.
Suddenly her body feels enormously heavy. The weight of what they've gone through sinks in, breaking through the frozen semiconsciousness she has floated through since they first hit the water. Rose lowers her head against Jack's chest. He's soaking wet, and freezing, but the slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat makes it worthy. She has full faith in the others in the lifeboat now, that they will navigate them to safety. It's her last hope, and her life is clinging to it.
Registering her voice, her words, might have been what saved him from death that night. A ship was coming. They were so close. If he succumbed now, no… he wouldn’t. It took every ounce of strength he had, but Jack was finally able to open his eyes.
It was difficult to focus on much of anything going on, but it was easy to find her. To focus on her. “We made it.” He stated, perhaps a bit prematurely, with the slightest of a smile. They might have been on their way to rescue, but it felt strange to smile knowing that so many others were not-to know that he shouldn’t be.
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How long she's been unaware of her surroundings, Rose isn't sure. She tries to calculate what time it may be and how long ago Titanic perished, but the blackness of the night offers her no clues. She remembers drifting on the headboard, gripping Jack like she was his lifeline, silence enveloping them. The silence had been the most horrific part, worse than watching the gigantic Titanic slide into the Atlantic forever, worse than hearing the tortured screams of those unfortunate not to escape in a lifeboat. Eventually the screams evaporated into the night. Since that point, time has eluded Rose.
It could have been minutes or hours afterward that a lone voice began shouting from the distance and her eyes registered the faint glow of a lamp moving slowly towards them. They would most certainly be dead if that lifeboat had not returned to the scene of the tragedy and pulled their frozen bodies from the water. After she collapsed into the bottom of the boat, safe for the time being, she had not been able to keep her mind in one piece, and had let consciousness fade.
But now, still lying on her back in the bottom of the lifeboat with a dozen ragged strangers crowded around her, the flares stir a sense of meaning into Rose's limp body. She hears a groan that must be Jack, and the sound prompts her frozen hands and glazed eyes to reach out for him. Another boom breaks the quiet, and her gaze shoots up once again to the sky. The green sparks break over her pupils. Only another ship could produce such a firework. It is now when she realizes the people around her in the lifeboat, the other survivors, are reaching the same conclusion. Someone shouts and other voices murmur. Whether they are exclaiming joy, relief, or pain, Rose can't tell.
"Jack, please," she says, using meager strength to shift onto her side. She slides her cold hand down the collar of his shirt, her index finger coming to rest on one of the translucent buttons. He had not even gotten a life belt, yet here they are. She inhales a sharp breath of the frigid air and speaks again with more urgency. "I think there is a ship coming."
@throughtimeillbethere
It was ironic how life could humble you. Mere days before the sinking Rose had felt trapped in a never-changing life she didn’t belong to, like a tiny ant stuck pitifully in a pool of honey. Desperate attempts to escape did nothing, and each second that she struggled felt as if it were an eternity. In fact, the struggle only pulled her deeper, crushed her further, killed her faster… Yet when she’d compared her fate to drowning back then, because that was truly how it felt, she hadn’t realized how close she could actually get to the real thing. She was ignorant to the true feeling of being pulled beneath the waves, literal instead of figurative. The numbness she’d felt inside for many years did not compare to the numbness of the ocean’s cruel embrace. Rose would never again compare her emotional plight to the fate to which so many had succumbed.
Many years later she would swear to have no memories of Titanic’s sinking. Honestly, it passed in a blur, where Rose felt like she was watching someone else inside her body from behind a clouded window. Maybe it was the frostbite she’d been treated with that had muddled her mind and made it believe she’d been frozen out of consciousness. Nevertheless, she was somewhat grateful to not clearly remember the blackness and silence of that surreal night after hours of chaos.
And in the later years, if she closed her eyes and concentrated on her frayed memory, she could maybe still picture a few specks of stars. It was all she’d seen laying face up in the bottom of the small boat for hours until Carpathia arrived. Silver twinkles of stars, then a burst of green, then… nothing. Only after being helped to the ship, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, and deposited in an empty cabin did her brain begin to thaw. Even still, if asked, Rose would lie and state she didn’t remember a thing from that point either, as there was only one person she trusted with her painful memories and the subsequent nightmares that lingered well into the next decade.
Jack. Jack, whose last name she’d stolen to identify herself to the rescue crew. Jack, who she’d clung to from the point of crawling into the lifeboat that saved them until he’d had to physically pry her off to ascend Carpathia. She didn’t leave his side for days after the sinking, too afraid that if she did, she’d realize she’d hallucinated his survival. The truth was that neither of them should have survived. Yet, she praised the God she’d never quite believed in before then for saving their fragile lives.
There was no Rose Dewitt Bukater, not even Rose, without Jack. At least, that was the way she saw it after that night. It was a sign from above that only solidified what she already knew in her heart: they were soulmates. There was no telling what life would bring when they landed in New York, two lost and helpless souls, but having survived on a floating headboard in the frozen Atlantic eased any worries Rose had about the trivialities of their reentering society. All she knew was Jack beside her.
No, she’d always say. She did not remember.
—
She is drifting in and out of a dizzying consciousness when a flash of green light lights up the sky and startles her awake. It’s followed by a deafening boom, and the smoke lingers as the sparks fade. Rose doesn’t move; she isn’t sure if she physically can. There’s a murmur of voices around her before another flare breaks across the dark sky. Her heartbeat quickens inside her ears. A ship? She thinks, and the gears of her brain creak into action. She turns her head, a few frozen strands of hair falling against her forehead. He’s there, ice encapsulating his strands as well, and she suddenly feels the weight of his hand on her shoulder that she’d been too cold to register before. “Jack,” she whispers in a voice too hoarse to be heard. Rose clears her throat and finally stirs her body. The subtlest movement hurts—it feels like she’s been hibernating for months. “Jack,” she states more firmly, eyes never leaving his. Her heartbeat accelerates even more. She doesn’t know what to ask, scared she might be wrong. She was sure they’d die out here, but her thoughts are suddenly racing at the prospect that they may have another shot at life.
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@throughtimeillbethere
It was ironic how life could humble you. Mere days before the sinking Rose had felt trapped in a never-changing life she didn’t belong to, like a tiny ant stuck pitifully in a pool of honey. Desperate attempts to escape did nothing, and each second that she struggled felt as if it were an eternity. In fact, the struggle only pulled her deeper, crushed her further, killed her faster… Yet when she’d compared her fate to drowning back then, because that was truly how it felt, she hadn’t realized how close she could actually get to the real thing. She was ignorant to the true feeling of being pulled beneath the waves, literal instead of figurative. The numbness she’d felt inside for many years did not compare to the numbness of the ocean’s cruel embrace. Rose would never again compare her emotional plight to the fate to which so many had succumbed.
Many years later she would swear to have no memories of Titanic’s sinking. Honestly, it passed in a blur, where Rose felt like she was watching someone else inside her body from behind a clouded window. Maybe it was the frostbite she’d been treated with that had muddled her mind and made it believe she’d been frozen out of consciousness. Nevertheless, she was somewhat grateful to not clearly remember the blackness and silence of that surreal night after hours of chaos.
And in the later years, if she closed her eyes and concentrated on her frayed memory, she could maybe still picture a few specks of stars. It was all she’d seen laying face up in the bottom of the small boat for hours until Carpathia arrived. Silver twinkles of stars, then a burst of green, then… nothing. Only after being helped to the ship, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, and deposited in an empty cabin did her brain begin to thaw. Even still, if asked, Rose would lie and state she didn’t remember a thing from that point either, as there was only one person she trusted with her painful memories and the subsequent nightmares that lingered well into the next decade.
Jack. Jack, whose last name she’d stolen to identify herself to the rescue crew. Jack, who she’d clung to from the point of crawling into the lifeboat that saved them until he’d had to physically pry her off to ascend Carpathia. She didn’t leave his side for days after the sinking, too afraid that if she did, she’d realize she’d hallucinated his survival. The truth was that neither of them should have survived. Yet, she praised the God she’d never quite believed in before then for saving their fragile lives.
There was no Rose Dewitt Bukater, not even Rose, without Jack. At least, that was the way she saw it after that night. It was a sign from above that only solidified what she already knew in her heart: they were soulmates. There was no telling what life would bring when they landed in New York, two lost and helpless souls, but having survived on a floating headboard in the frozen Atlantic eased any worries Rose had about the trivialities of their reentering society. All she knew was Jack beside her.
No, she’d always say. She did not remember.
—
She is drifting in and out of a dizzying consciousness when a flash of green light lights up the sky and startles her awake. It’s followed by a deafening boom, and the smoke lingers as the sparks fade. Rose doesn’t move; she isn’t sure if she physically can. There’s a murmur of voices around her before another flare breaks across the dark sky. Her heartbeat quickens inside her ears. A ship? She thinks, and the gears of her brain creak into action. She turns her head, a few frozen strands of hair falling against her forehead. He’s there, ice encapsulating his strands as well, and she suddenly feels the weight of his hand on her shoulder that she’d been too cold to register before. “Jack,” she whispers in a voice too hoarse to be heard. Rose clears her throat and finally stirs her body. The subtlest movement hurts—it feels like she’s been hibernating for months. “Jack,” she states more firmly, eyes never leaving his. Her heartbeat accelerates even more. She doesn’t know what to ask, scared she might be wrong. She was sure they’d die out here, but her thoughts are suddenly racing at the prospect that they may have another shot at life.
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mockyngjay·:
KATNISS
THE GAMES KILLED THEM ALL IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER . there are no true winners , only survivors : victors haunted by the past , seeking refuge from their ghosts in the bottom of a bottle or within a vial of morphling . ( or in THE ARMS OF SOMEONE ENTIRELY FAMILIAR WITH HER SCARS , who bears matching ones of his own . there’s no need for feigned bravado : not now . )
❝ i’m sorry for waking you . ❞ a whisper loosed as her head settles upon the plane of his chest , nerves lulled by the steady thrum of his heartbeat . ( he’s here , they’re alive . they’re surviving . ) an inhale is drawn as a hand finds peeta’s shirt , the fabric gripped as if he’s her tether to reality . perhaps he is . ❝ ——— if you’re like me , then i’m sure YOU DON’T NEED MY HELP with staying awake . ❞
ALL IS STILL as he settles back against the nest of pillows . not a sound to disturb nor calm them , no sight save the dark shadows cast by a sliver of moonlight . it’s more peaceful than the blanket of sleep — the comfort of each other’s presence minus the blinding terror of nightmares .
fingertips ghost up her bare arm of their own accord , a trail of the empty words he wish could soothe her . soothe them both . it’s a reassurance that they have each other , no matter what else is taken . . . he’ll always be with her , in heart and mind if not in body .
“ you have nothing to be sorry for . sleep doesn’t offer me much these days anyway . ” chin comes to rest lightly against the crown of her head , eyes slipping shut . a deep breath — grounding , stabilizing him . if peeta focuses hard enough in this moment , he can almost imagine that ALL IS WELL .
#interactions : peeta mellark ;#mockyngjay#yeah he'll be with her in heart and mind#until they hijack the fuck out of him
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different ways to say ‘i love you’.
‘i’ll make you something, yeah? your favorite dish, just for you.’
‘let’s get you back to bed.’
‘shh, it was just a nightmare.’
‘you like this, don’t you? i remember you saying that.’
‘i drew up a bath for you.’
‘you need rest.’
‘you ought to be asleep.’
‘i bought two.’
‘here. you can have the rest.’
‘i thought of you when i saw this.’
‘i like your smile.’
‘you have a cute laugh.’
‘stay there. i’m coming there to get you.’
‘it’s okay, i’m here, we’re okay.’
‘be careful.’
‘look both ways.’
‘you mean so much to me.’
‘i can’t lose you.’
‘i thought i might have lost you.’
‘how to you feel about the nickname, (insert nickname)?’
‘it looks good on you.’
‘i’ll make you soup.’
‘ah-ah-ah. you’re sick. you need to stay in bed.’
‘are you okay in there?’
‘that’s it, that’s it. get it all out. shh.’
‘it’s a remedy i knew. helps with your throat.’
‘it’s a lullaby. would you like me to sing it to you? would that help you fall asleep?’
‘i’m worried about you.’
‘what do you want to watch?’
‘where would you like to go for dinner?’
‘close your eyes and hold out your hands.’
‘we’ll figure it out.’
‘oh, it’s not big deal. you’re fine.’
‘i brought you some medicine for your cold.’
‘you’re important to me.’
‘this is your favorite song, right?’
‘you’re like a son/daughter to me.’
‘good luck!’
‘you’re like a mom/dad to me.’
‘don’t say that about yourself.’
‘want to come with?’
“wow! you look really nice.’
‘goodnight, (insert term of affection).’
‘it’s okay. i couldn’t sleep anyway.’
‘you can have half.’
‘come here. let me fix it.’
‘your tie is crooked.’
‘c’mere. shh, it’s okay.’
‘i’m not going to hurt you.’
‘can i touch you?’
‘can i kiss you?’
‘can i hug you?’
‘promise.’
‘would i ever lie to you?’
‘i think you’re very beautiful/handsome.’
‘hey, good-looking.’
‘of course i care. you’re my family.’
‘one more chapter.’
‘i love you.’
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mockyngjay:
KATNISS
IT’S A HEAVY BURDEN TO BEAR ALONE : the visions of the dead , the macabre imagery of fallen tributes which PLAGUE her in hours of both sleep & wake . their faces lurk behind closed eyelids , WAKE HER WITH SCREAMS spilling from her lips . ( only HE can soothe such nightmares , can be a salve to such deep wounds . )
❝ STAY WITH ME ——— ? ❞ the words splice through her silence , features stone-like in an attempt to stave off the anxiety which thrums within her chest . ❝ i don’t want to be ALONE right now . ❞
HE HADN’T HESITATED this time to enter her bedroom . it is his duty to her — care for her as she cared for him months ago in the arena . through cracks in the blinds , just enough moonlight filters in to make out her shape on the bed : the illuminated shell of a girl in a sea of sheets . peeta would never say it , but she looks nearly as vulnerable in this moment as her twelve - year - old sister at the reaping . by morning , the emotional exposure will vanish ; she will not need his presence to calm the STORM . but right now , he will be whatever she wants .
“ of course , ” is his murmured reply that travels the turbulent void between them . there is no way he could possibly sleep through it regardless , but this admission dies on parted lips . words are not what they need now anyway . like an automation , he crosses that void , shunning the unknown to EMBRACE any threads of constancy between them , however bleak , however codependent . onto the bed , arms around her , absorbing the good and the bad .
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