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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

Love is in the Lines

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Tattoo Convention Oneshot

Nesta loses Cassian at a tattoo convention.

Written for Nessian month. @illyrianet

Prompt 1: Tattoo Artist

Prompt 2: We came to the…together, and now you’re lost.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2319 words

*******

“Cassian, I swear to the mother, when I find you…” Nesta grumbled to herself for the fourth, no it was the fifth, time in the last twenty minutes.

She pushed through the herds of people crowding the aisle, trying her best to scour every booth for her missing boyfriend.

One moment, he had been standing behind her waiting as she scrutinized a certain design, the next, she turned back around, and he had disappeared.

Deciding she wasn’t going to find him in this row, she turned the corner and began walking down the next aisle starting her search over again.

If she was lucky, she would spot his massive frame sticking out above the clusters of people, but so far luck wasn’t on her side because she’d been walking around the convention hall for almost half an hour now searching for him. Nesta passed each booth looking at the artists and the customers, but they were all strangers.

Getting to the end, she took one last scan over the heavily tattooed convention-goers—most having several visible piercings in their ears, noses, and sporadic other places on the face that she thought would be excruciating to pierce—and wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sighing heavily, Nesta turned and started walking down the next aisle.

Two years ago, if someone had told Nesta she would be wandering around a tattoo convention, she would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity of it.

A year ago, she’d have rolled her eyes and said that even her ink-covered boyfriend who made her realized she didn’t hate all tattoos, wouldn’t have been able to convince her to spend a day surrounded by the buzzing machines and colorfully covered patrons.

Last week, she considered it.

Being with Cassian had made her learn a lot about herself; one of those things being the fact that she found all of his ink incredibly attractive.

There was something about the way the ink stood out on his tanned skin that made it look like it was supposed to be there. She couldn’t even imagine her boyfriend without his tattoos. The one time she tried, she made a mental image of his arms without the swirling geometric designs and his back without the large bat-like wings, not to mention all the other little designs he had strewn across his body suddenly gone—and she was surprised to find herself dismayed at the lack on ink.

One night, when Nesta was idly tracing some of the lines across his chest, she confessed to Cassian that she wanted to get a small tattoo of her own.

At first, he had been shocked. As much as she loved his designs, he knew she still looked at most people’s tattoos with distaste. In her words, “most of the tattoos I see look like someone stumbled into a shop at four in the morning, drunk out of their mind, and picked out the first thing they saw. And the artist just went with it.”

But Nesta listened whenever he talked about his own designs; about how they all meant something to him. How every design held a memory. Every time he looked at them—whether he was intentionally studying them or when he caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of his eye—he would think about why he got it. Each tattoo made him remember a story, or a person, or some sort of inspiration.

They were reminders, self-expressions, and memories.

Even the one he got when he and his brothers were wasted and thought getting matching tattoos—done by each other, of course—was an amazing idea. He always pointed out that particular tattoo whenever Nesta explained her disdain for the “impulsive permanent decisions” saying that even though the design isn’t great, every time he looks at it he laughs and thinks of the great time he has when he’s with his brothers.

So when Nesta told him she wanted to get a tattoo, Cassian was more than surprised. But as soon as his shock wore off, he got the broadest smile on his face and immediately started asking her questions. What did she want? How long had she wanted one? Color or Black and White? Where on her body? Question after question, and Nesta was glad that Cassian had been thrilled.

Smirking, she remembered what he had told her when she asked him if he thought she would look good with a tattoo.

“Good?” She’d never seen him look more ravenous, already picturing what she would look like with ink covering her body. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Nes, sweetheart, you are already so gorgeous, but, fuck,” he groaned, “you would look so fucking stunning that I don’t know how I’d ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Then he made sure to show her just how much he liked the idea of tattoos covering her body, using his tongue to trace potential designs across every inch of her skin.

The next day, Cassian showed Nesta the poster for the tattoo convention happening soon which brought dozens of artists together to showcase their work and allow for people to get tattoos done, and admire the different aesthetics and designs.

When Nesta agreed to go with him, she made it very clear she was just looking for inspiration. It was practical, she reasoned, to go to see all kinds of designs in one place so she could get a sense of what exactly she wanted.

She figured he would be attached to her side, wanting to show her everything and point out his favorites.

The last thing she expected was to lose Cassian in the crowd.

Nesta finished eyeing another row of booths, still no sign of her missing, infuriating, boyfriend.

“C’mon Nesta, he said” she muttered as she walked. “It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll get inspired and I’ll be right there with you, he said.”

Nesta just about turned the corner when a booming laugh caught her attention. Zeroing in on the sound she caught sight of Cassian—well, his hair really. The long, dark, wavy strands were pulled up into a bun on top of his head, making his strong jawline covered in artfully groomed stubble stand out.

Nesta sometimes found it hard to stay mad at Cassian because no matter what she was upset about, he always found a way to make her smile. Even unintentionally. Like right now, part of her wanted to strangle him for vanishing on her and making her scour the convention hall for him, but hearing the sound of his laugh softened her and she allowed herself to smile at him before quickly schooling her features and making her way over to where he was sitting.

Sitting.

He was sitting in a reclining chair while the booth’s tattoo artist leaned over him to draw a new piece of artwork on his skin.

Nesta was going to kill him. Seething, she marched towards him.

He brought her here, he disappeared, and then he went off to get a new tattoo—without her.

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he spotted her. “Nes! Check it out, look who’s here.”

For the first time, Nesta looked at who exactly was inking her boyfriend.

“Az?” She blinked, momentarily losing her frustration. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Azriel dipped his needle into the ink again and let out a low chuckle. Once he deemed enough ink was added, he gave Nesta a rueful smile. “I assumed this one,” he nodded at Cass who was still grinning at her “would show up today, but I thought I could get a couple of hours of actual clients before he took over my booth. I didn’t expect to see you here, though” Azriel concentrated on tracing another line but raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

“Yeah, well, this one,” she imitated Azriel’s tone and nodded at Cassian, “wanted to show me what one of these conventions was like, but apparently he decided it was better to run off and get another tattoo.”

Setting her bag down, Nesta sunk into the chair beside Cassian and crossed her arms.

“I’ve been wandering around for more than thirty minutes looking for you, asshole”

Az snorted, but didn’t comment, just kept drawing something that Nesta couldn’t quite see.

“Aw babe, don’t be mad,” Cassian leaned over as best he could and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could turn away. Not that she didn’t want a kiss from him, but she was still upset at his antics. “You were so absorbed looking at that lady’s designs I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nesta’s anger melted a little at that. They had been walking around for a while when Nesta spotted a particular design she liked. She dragged Cassian over to a booth hosted by a woman whose arms were covered in colorful images and had her hair pulled back in a bright bandanna. She had a handful of binders on the table filled with designs and photos of healed artwork.

It was the minimalistic stack of books that had caught Nesta’s eye from across the aisle. She followed the single line as it swirled around creating the image. She must have been more lost in thought than she realized if Cassian deemed it best not to interrupt her.

“And,” He gave her a wide grin, “I hoped I could find Az and convince him to tattoo me for free.”

Rolling her eyes at Cass’ satisfied look and Az’s long-suffering one, she watched as people passed by the booth. Some looked through the design books, others paused to watch for a moment as Az worked. Turning back to face Cassian, she saw he was already looking at her.

“Fine. I’m still annoyed, though.” She leaned in closer, “What are you getting?”

Now Cassian’s face turned a little nervous. He still looked excited and happy and keen in the way he always looked when he watched her, but now he started to look a little worried, too.

“Before you freak out or get angry, let me explain.”

Nesta’s mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. What could he be getting that he thought she would be angry? What would Azriel agree to ink that she should be upset about? Was it—

“Great way to start.” Azriel muttered from Cassian’s other side.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nesta just as she stood up and walked around to peer over Azriel’s shoulder.

Az was putting the finishing touches on but she could see exactly what the image was.

It was delicate ‘N’ on the inner edge of his wrist.

Nesta didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything—she just stared at the design now permanently etched into her boyfriend’s skin.

Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel backed away to put his needles down and give them a moment of privacy. As much privacy as they could have in the small booth.

“It’s an N,” Obviously. “For you.” Obviously.

Nesta couldn’t drag her gaze away from the letter. All her anger and frustration faded away. She forgot how irritated she was with him, how upset she had been when she turned around and he was gone. She forgot the instant jolt of panic she felt when she thought she had lost him.

Nesta took in each line and curve of the tattoo and felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for this crazy, impulsive, wonderful man.

“You…” She finally looked up to see him watching her face carefully.

“What do you think?” He waited for her to say something, but after a moment of silence, he started rambling. “Is it too much? Do you like it? You don’t like it. It’s too much. If you don’t like it I can change it. I mean, I can see if Az can change it. I could get it covered up—”

“No!”

Nesta grabbed his worried face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. She tried to pour everything she was feeling into that kiss, and make him know that she did like it, she loved it. She loved him.

“No, don’t cover it up.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling back and intertwining their fingers, using her grip to lift his arm to get a better view.

“So, you do like it?” A slow smile appeared on his face.

Nodding softly, she told him, “I do.” Nesta swallowed, another rush of emotion hitting her. “You really wanted to get something for me inked onto you? These things last forever you know.” She tried to make a joke, but she was still feeling overwhelmed.

She almost couldn’t believe that he wanted a piece of her, something to remind him of her constantly and forever. It was insane; totally impulsive and unbelievable, but the sweetest most loving gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Cassian used his fingers to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Of course I wanted to. Every time I’ll see it, I’ll think of you.”

She kissed him again.

Breaking apart, Nesta slowly moved her finger around the letter, careful not to brush it and hurt him.

“Why here?”

He forced her to meet his stare as he said, “I wanted it over my pulse point because my heart beats for you.”

He kissed her this time and put everything he had into it. She brought one hand around behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

“That’s so corny” she murmured against his lips

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily.

Cassian gave her a cheeky grin and winked.

“You love it. And didn’t you know, sweetheart,” he gave her one more peck on the lips, “we’re gonna last forever, too.”

*****

I know I’ve posted a lot of oneshots recently, but don’t worry, I’m absolutely still working on my longer fics. I’m just taking advantage of the inspiration as it hits me

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

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loptyrs-moved · 3 years

Note

Can you talk more abt ur fandoms ocs? I like your writing a lot and would like to know more abt em

Oh my goodness I’m 🥺🥺🥺🥺 you’re SO sweet thank you!

Well, I have quite a few and some have their own deeper lore stories that go with them. If you guys want more information on them, I can do separate posts on all of them. But Here they are! I’m so excited to share my babies with you!

More is under the cut. The Picrew I used is here.

Ikemen Revolution

Black Army Side

Corrin Fukui

Age: Appears to be in mid-early twenties

Hair: Brick white

Eyes: Blood Red

Height: 4′11

Any other Qualities:

Draconic features -- She’s literally a dragon but not by nature

Curved Opalescent Horns

Shimmery opalescent tail

Wings that also shimmer in the light

retractable?

Pointed ears

Easily frightened by loud noises and sudden movements

stunted growth

Hoards blankets and comfort items

writes in a journal every day

its one luka got for her and she refuses to write in anything else. she pours her heart out on the pages, and all her memories

she had a brother! but he passed away because of the magic tower :(

turns into a gIANT DRAGON

ICE ICE BREATH BABY

Was found by Luka while on a patrol near the forbidden forest, lost and afraid, so she was taken in

Had amnesia at first

She actually is an experiment of Amon and she managed to escape

Excellent at sewing and gardening

Sufficient with baking

She’s for Luka! The way they fell for each other was a slow, gradual trust, and mutual understanding. She saw him as a man, as he was, and nothing else.

Sometimes is called Corri

gentle hearted and innocent

but not as innocent as you’d think

she’s a dragon, and she’s a greedy little one

Ophelia Dae

Age: 24

Hair: Crimson red

Eyes: Jade green

Height: 5′8

Any other Qualities:

A skilled swordsman, and one of the Chosen Thirteen

9 of Spades baybeee

While she is more accustomed to short swords and sabers, Phelia is a magic user! But she isn’t really in agreement with Ray with his stance on magic

BOMBASTIC AS HELL

BISEXUAL

“Is he bothering you Queen?”

Trans

Was friends with Ray and Fenrir while in school, and was just as much of a hellraiser as them

she was there when the day things went dark happened and was almost taken but that day is a blur for her

phelia REFUSES to talk about it

she still has nightmares

raised by a single mother

TRIVIA! She was an old fire emblem oc i had and she was the daughter of Arvis -- so if you squint when she uses magic you’ll see Valflame

joined the army probably because Fenrir was too, and she was inspired by him

she joined for her own reasons but he made it easier for her to do it too

his passion was what made her fall for him in the first place

has a personal vendetta against the magic tower for what they did to her and her friends

AND CORRIN JEEZ

will sacrifice herself if necessary to the cause

PROBABLY HAS ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF IT

Bruh girl

Amira Nasiri

Age: 22

Hair: Chocolate brown

Eyes: Turquoise blue

Height: 5′3

Any other qualities:

My version of Alice! Difference is that she’s Persian

That’s it

She’s just as spunky as Alice

however she responds with being called Alice a little different

she’s adamant about being called Amira

At some point she just accepts Seth does it to distance himself

also an avid baker like alice

pISTACIOS

BAKLAVA

Amira is just Alice except she’s just my take on her.

She has the same vibrant spirit as Alice

and I personally consider Seth the canon route for REASONS

just ask me why fjgdfgjksd

Red Army Side

Azul Flores

Age: 25

Hair: Raven black

Eyes: Wisteria purple

Height: 5′0

Any Other Qualities:

An old friend of the Queen of Hearts

like she met him when she was 8 years old

fought his bullies when they would give him a hard time when he was a kid

they dated for a WHILE

did NOT work out

HARD CHILDHOOD

Ambitious, hard working young woman who was married into a high standing family on the Red side. Her mother was a teacher and gained the attention of one of the Chosen Thirteen on that side, and got married

Azul is NOT the officer’s daughter. She’s his step daughter

Has had extensive studies on the History of Cradle and of the Red Territory.

Wants to be a Cradle Historian

Works for the Red Army as a personal assistant to the queen

UNINTENTIONAL

THEY ACTUALLY CANT STAND EACH OTHER

Unless....

Look their story is very dramatic and it hurts me every day so please stay tuned with them.

CUT THROAT BITCH

YOUR DEVIL

DEMON

Heckles Jonah like its her job — she knows him better than anyone elsd, if anyone knows his bs, its her

Bad resting bitch face

Actually really shy, and quiet when in different surroundings

A sweetheart and will cut a bitch for you once she knows u

She is perhaps one of the most transparent, honest, genuine person. there is no bullshit with her. she will tell you her honest thoughts with you

Cerise Nam

Age: 19

Hair: Berry Pink

Eyes: Petal Pink

Height: 5′2

Any other qualities:

Her mom came to Cradle from a far off place, and set up a food and pastry shop in the Central Quarter. Met her dad. Been there since

They live in Black Territory

She works for her parents and works with the pastries/desserts

loves making desserts from where her parents are from

She knows the Queen of Hearts VERY well since she makes the best mille feuille

Got a job from him actually, and works for the Red Army Headquarters kitchen

Loves to cook and bake!

a little naïve, but she’s a realist

youngest of FIVE kids!!

Morning girl

She may be petite but she can HEAFT heavy bags of flour/rice/dry goods

Met Zero by accident, and crashed into him while in town

love at first sight for her. how can you fault her?

she thinks he’s dreamy... and sweet...

does she flirt with him a little? Cerise can’t help it...

She and Zero have more of a hidden relationship because she fears her parents won’t approve

family stuff -- and she understands

RED ARMY OFFICER?? BLACK TERRITORY GIRL

look im cheesy

dont worry it works out

zero has to consider himself and his own personal stuff too so its a little difficult

Non Army Suitor(s)

Lucile Lidell

Age: 20

Hair: Straw blonde

Eyes: Aqua blue

Height: 5'1

Any other qualities:

She and her twin, Noelle, are the actual descendants of the original Alice

Inherited unusual hairpins that were from cradle

More of the 'modern woman stuck in the wrong time' kind of gal

Rebellious

Noelle and Luci: partners in crime

Short skirts galore

Does not give a singular shit of what MEN think of her

Wants to be taken seriously

Sometimes acts like an airhead in order to get attention. She's actually pretty somber as a person and prefers to be in the background as her sister takes the stage

loves her sister more than anyone else in the world

When she and Noelle fall into Cradle, they kind of hightail it and live in the woods with Harr and Loki

Sticks with Harr since he's literally the least threatening man ever

First man to feel safe around

"Excuse me he said NO pickles!"

Will cut a bitch for him, or use magic -- luci will hurt someone if they even think a bout looking at him wrong

Loves to make clothes

'I mended the holes in your cloak for you...' 'Bye Harr, be safe and have a good day.'

'Welcome home, I missed you.'

Puts up a tough girl front but she's just a big softie just like him

Doesn't realize she has a crush on him until shit starts to hit the fan

Actually very vanilla tbh but wants to spoil her bf

Ikemen Sengoku

Ito Tsunade

Age: 26

Hair: Straw Blonde

Eyes: Molten Gold

Height: 5′5

Any Other Qualities:

Graduate student at the same university as Sasuke

got stuck in the storm with him and Mai, and was tossed into the sengoku era

but she got separated from Mai

Met Shingen first much to her luck because uh.... lets say Tsunade is aint the sharpest tool in the shed

HEAD EMPTY

ZERO THOUGHTS

AIRHEAD

her aesthetic when she gets there?

TITS OUT

BIG HONKERS BIG TATA

HOT

her head might be empty but her tits are fat and they will protect you

Music nerd — loves traditional Japanese instruments, especially the difficult ones

Specializes in girl metal in modern day

eventually proves herself and plays some sick chords for the takeda/uesegi forces

she has entertained them for now

puts sake away like a monster

when she meets sasuke, she finds comfort in the fact he’s also lost with her, so she clings

asks him how to protect herself from shingen bc he’s horny lolol

genuinely thinks sasuke is hilarious

also does NOT realize she’s in love with him until the gravest of grave happens

her name was UNINTENTIONAL

Aibana Hinata

Age: Presents in his early-mid twenties

Hair: Black Midnight

Eyes: Haunting gold and vermillion

Height: 5'3

Any other qualities:

The concubine of Nobunaga

Please know I made him a long while before the other guy was dropped so I’m just gonna offer this little gay boy

Nobunaga bought him from a brothel after being so intrigued by him. Hina entertained him so well that he was set for life

A RIGHT SNARKY BASTARD

HE KNOWS HE’S PRETTY AND CAN GET AWAY WITH MURDER

Likes to challenge Nobunaga in battles of wits

board games

debate as pillow talk

swordplay if the lords will entertain him enough

Bisexual as hell

Gender? Don’t know her

He uses all pronouns

True pronoun: princess

ONLY EXISTS IN A UNIVERSE WHERE THERE IS MAI

Nobunaga/Mai/Hinata........

Unless.......

Smart, and educated

former geisha

he can read! and write!

LOVE FUCKING WITH HIDEYOSHI

if there is mai, he would bond with her like no one else

he would be her best friend

her confidant

genuinely adores her

even if she is pursuing nobunaga, he doesn’t resent her ... he just wishes that she would find room in her heart for him too

puts up a tough exterior

a softie.....

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madsmikkelsenschesthair · 4 years

Text

Blood of the Dragon ch.13

Björn Ironside and Freyja/Reader aesthetic 💕

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any(?)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been so busy with work. It’s taking up too much of my time but I’m back for a bit. Anywho, I don’t have the “Keep Reading” line thing because I’m on mobile. Hope you understand.

Björn ate breakfast with his brothers and Aslaug in silence. His mother returned to her earldom while he stayed behind in Kattegat and settled here with a woman named Torvi who already had one son from another earl. It had been almost six moons since he last saw Freyja and it still hurt to think about her, nothing could fill the hole she left behind.

“When will Freyja come home?” Ivar asked breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Aslaug and Björn’s eyes met both of them thinking the same thing. “It will take awhile for Freyja to return” she answered and reached for more bread “she is living with her father now and as customed, she will taught the Westorosi ways and one day she will invite us to her coronation”

The cawing of a raven made all of them look up, it was perched on the windowsill flapping its wings, on his claw was a scroll. Björn shot up from his seat and took it, the wax seal of a red dragon visible. His brothers and stepmother stared at him. It was Hvitserk that noticed the red seal and he was on his feet, his face excited.

“Is it Freyja? Read it aloud! No, let me read it!” The rest of his brothers soon joined in his excitement, all of them crowding around their big brother except for Ivar who struggled to get up until Björn motioned him to stay seated and sat next to his younger brother.

“To the sons of Ragnar and his wife” he began to read aloud, “we hope all is well in Kattegat and you are well with health. I write good news. Ragnar Lothbrok has been found” He frowned. His father had been in Westeros this entire time, Björn looked at his brothers and stepmother and he saw they were all thinking the same thing he was. “He was held hostage until his captor, Renly Baratheon, was killed by Her Grace Y/n. I would like to know if you want to send for him, Ragnar wishes to go alone but he is no condition to do so. Signed King Rhaegar Targaryen First of His Name”

The very thought of returning to Kingslanding after so many years, made Bjorn both nervous and delighted. Nervous because he would be reuniting with his father but delighted because he would be seeing Freyja again. At the bottom of the letter in her scripture it read, Much love and kisses from your beloved Freyja.

Bjorn couldn’t wait to see his Freyja. He had so many stories to tell her and many presents to gift her. To be fair, Björn was more excited to see Freyja than his own father, as bad as it sounded.

“Can we go with you?” Ubbe asked, his brothers stared at him hopefully.

“I’m afraid not. This will be a long and dangerous journey. You all need to stay here with your mother”

Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd’s faces fell but Ivar didn’t hold back from expressing his disappointment. “But we want to see Freyja. We haven’t seen her in almost a year!”

It was true. Freyja would be growing more, her loveliness blossoming and growing into her woman’s body. Has her attitude changed? Was she still as wild as ever or was she being trained in the lady arts like the highborn she was? His brothers and Freyja had been close since infancy, one look at their eager expressions and Björn’s eyes went to his stepmother.

“Can they come with me?”

Aslaug smiled, shrugging. “I don’t see why not? These few months will be lonely without my sons but I cannot leave Kattegat. You may go” The boys let out cheers of excitement and began to talk about the gifts they were planning on taking to Kingslanding. While his brothers went about Kattegat searching for the finest of things they had, Björn wrote to his mother asking if she wanted to come and to King Rhaegar notifying him they were on their way. A few days later, with his mother, her people, his brothers and their people, Björn set sail to Westeros all of them eager to see the little princess again.

_____________________________

Freyja and her stepmother were in her room braiding Freyja’s hair, she had said she didn’t want the usual Southern braids Freyja had seen the ladies wearing but simple ones. Cersei had agreed, she placed the golden circlet on her head and smoothed her hair, Freyja’s face went bright when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

“I look like a princess!” She grinned, her smiling eyes going to her stepmother. Lately, Freyja had been spending more time with her stepmother and father. Cersei taught her how to behave, walk, and talk like a queen and even once invited her to have tea with her and the ladies in waiting. Freyja sat up straight, nibbles on her food, and made polite conversation. At dinner time though, Freyja always caught Ragnar staring at her as if he was waiting for something to erupt out of her like lava, fire and ashes. It was strange.

Cersei kissed her hair, “You are a princess and one day you will be Queen”

There was a gentle knock on the door and her stepmother went to open it. It was Maester Luwin red faced and breathless from running up the stone steps and he was holding a scroll tied in a white thread. “From Björn Ironside, Your Grace” he said and then bowed his head when he saw Freyja, “My Princess” Cersei’s once bright and warm face turned sour and cold. She snatched the scroll from him. Freyja was nearly in tears, her Bear had sent a letter in return.

“I thought it was His Grace that wrote that letter not me” she snapped, nearly ripping it open. “So why is it you’re handing it to me, Maester?”

Maester Luwin bowed his head again apologetically. “My apologies My Queen but this letter is not addressed to you or the King but to the princess”

Freyja quickly jumped from her chair. “I shall read it then” Her stepmother sucked in her lips but she handed her the letter. The girl unrolled the parchment paper and began to read with eager eyes.

‘Sweet Freyja,

we hope that Kingslanding welcomed you with open arms and you are enjoying your new home with your Father. A lot has changed since you left but that is a conversation for when we arrive. My brothers and I will be sailing for Westeros to see you and fetch Ragnar. We will be reunited once again, my sweet girl.

Much love,

Bear’

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back, a smile spreading to her face. “They are on their way here”, Freyja rolled the paper again and handed it back to her stepmother, “they will be here in time for Yule”

Cersei and Maester Luwin gave each other confused looks and then stared back at her. “Yule?”

She nodded. “Winter Solstice. We celebrate the coming of winter and give thanks to our god Odin. Don’t you celebrate, stepmother?” Freyja winced. She had forgotten how different these Westerosis were to her people. It was a silly question now that she thought about it. Their confused expressions didn’t go away. “It is the longest night of winter and we put up wreaths, mistletoes, and decorate trees, we give each other gifts, sing songs and in the morning as the sun goes up we ring bells to scare away the demons”

Cersei glanced at Maester Luwin and then smiled again at her stepdaughter. “That sounds like a lovely tradition, little dove but we don’t celebrate Yule”

Freyja’s eyes lit up again. “Maybe it’s something I can share with my people. Something from home to my new home. You will love it, Stepmother”

The Queen agreed that she would and ordered Maester Luwin to find out whatever he could about Yule and its traditions. Freyja ran to her little stepbrother and told him about what a wonderful new holiday they will be celebrating. Uncle Tyrion managed to find some books about the holiday and from there they began their preparations. Freyja ran up the King’s towers all excited to tell her father and Ragnar about her plans to introduce such a festive holiday, she was about to knock on the door when Ragnar’s desperate voice stopped her.

“I need you to help me on this journey, brother” he said. “I need a few of your men. I want to go to England”

Rhaegar sighed. “Why do you want to go to England? What unfinished business do you have waiting for you?”

Ragnar went silent, thinking hard probably about his next words. Freyja gently pressed her ear against the door to hear better. “I just...have to go to England...I cannot say what it’s for but I also want my sons to join me”

“I cannot help you if you can’t tell me why you’re going to England” Rhaegar’s tone went stern and sour, “I am not risking the lives of my men for unknown reasons”

“I risked my life for yours. I took your child and kept her safe!”

“We were at war with Robert Baratheon!” Her father shot back “I was usurped! My crown ripped off my head, my only heir in danger with a dead wife! Completely different situations!”

Freyja’s body froze and her mouth went dry. Her father continued, “You wanted to die with me in war! You’re not a war with no one but yourself. I can see right through you Ragnar Lothbrok”

The men were silent and Freyja wondered the same thing her father did; why did Ragnar want to go to England? A chair scraped the floor and footsteps were heard walking to the door. Freyja quickly went back to the stairs and made it seem she was just walking up when Ragnar opened the door. His face expressionless but it immediately went up in surprise when he saw her.

“Little dragon! What are you doing all the way up here?” His anger and request forgotten.

Freyja managed to fake smile, “I wanted to tell my father about Yule, I’m introducing our holiday to the Westerosis”

Ragnar touched her braid, his fingers then traced her golden circlet. “What a lovely idea” he kissed her head, “By your leave, my lady”. Ragnar walked past her, defeated his eyes telling another story. The joy of introducing the holiday was gone and Freyja was left alone confused and staring at the dark stairs.

_______________________________________

Word of a new holiday spread fast and it didn’t take long for the little princess to decorate the castle with wreaths, ribbons, pines, mistletoes and the sweet scent of what she called “Yule log”. A rolled chocolate cake with sweet filling decorated with two little leaves and two “red berries” as little Rob called them but these berries were to not be eaten they were only for decoration.

The preparation for Freyja’s fourteenth nameday also began in the midst of all of it. The finest dressmakers in Westeros came to Kingslanding with designs carefully packed in their trunks, lords and ladies from different lands arrived except the little princess’s mothers family and another family called, “Tyrell”. Freyja was on her best behavior, surprising her father and uncle, she courtesied like the princess she was, ate like a Queen, and only stuck her tongue out once at her ugly uncle. With all the excitement there was still a tug in Freyja’s heart whenever she looked around for Ragnar and could not find him. Fenrir was a great comfort and little Rob but Freyja wanted to see Ragnar’s smiling face, laughing at anything “heathen” she would do.

One very early morning she woke up to a pounding at her door and in came her ladies in waiting along with her stepmother’s ladies. Fenrir barked angrily, Freyja held him back by his fur.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped and the ladies only bowed apologetically. “Have you forgotten who I am?!”

“Forgive us Your Grace,” a lady answered and the others went to her trunk or her wardrobe, “but the Vikings have arrived”

Freyja let go of Fenrir and pulled away the covers off of her, a burst of excitement flowed through her veins. “They’re here?! Are they really?”

The lady nodded. “Your father Freyja climbed out of bed in such a hurry that she almost forgot her stepmother’s and Septa’s lessons. Her whole body shook and her face hurt from smiling, the ladies could only give each other side glances. She couldn’t wait to hug her boys she had so much to tell them, so much to show them. As soon as they were done Freyja didn’t wait for anyone else, she told Fenrir to follow her and the pair ran down the stairs Freyja clutching Thor’s hammer in her hand. All those lonesome feelings and homesickness came back to her.

Her family was waiting for her at the docks, from a distance she saw many, many boats sailing their way and Freyja recognized the shields and colors. Her stepmother’s face was hard, little Rob looked frightened and hid behind his mother’s skirts, Viserys didn’t want to be there, her father looked noble and welcoming as always but once again no Ragnar.

“Why are you so happy?” Little Rob whispered to his stepsister.

“My family came back to me” she answered with a grin on her face.

Little Rob’s face went from frightened to confused. “But we are your family, Y/n”. His septa shushed him before Freyja could answer. Her smile started to fade, her King Father noticed and it broke his dear heart.

Björn and his mother looked at the small figure with white hair standing next to the queen. A dark shadow sat next to Freyja and it took Björn a moment to realize that it was her direwolf grown up with his puppy phase gone. He wondered if Freyja’s curiosity and wildness left her. His little brothers were in awe at the beauty of Kingslanding and very excited. They were also fighting over who was going to hug Freyja first especially Sigurd and Ivar. Shoving each other to the point where they were going to throw each other overboard. Björn put a stop to it before it got dangerous.

The ships docked soon and Freyja could no longer contain her excitement, she took off in the direction of Björn and Lagertha ignoring her parents protests. She would get a scolding later but right now she did not care, she jumped into her Bear’s waiting arms hugging him like her life depended on it.

“Sweet Freyja, little dragon, you have grown so much! Look at you! You’re becoming a woman!” Björn exclaimed hugging his child tighter.

Lagertha smiled at them and wrapped her arms around them both, the boys joining them. Freyja felt like her whole world lit up again, she was reunited back with her boys, with Lagertha and their people. Home came to her, and she was smiling tears falling down with a familiar tongue speaking to her. The tongue of the Norsemen and their Gods. She hugged all of them and never wanted to let go, her family came back to her and watching with disapproval next to Rhaegar was Ragnar Lothbrok. His reunion with his sons and ex wife would not be so welcoming.

Björn, a man known for his strength, was crying. His little Freyja was no longer a child but he held her like she still was that same little girl that danced with him during feasts. Or the one that welcomed him every time after a raid like now; running to him and hugging him.

The princess was surrounded by so much love from her boys and Lagertha, all of them asking questions.

“Why haven’t you been writing to us as much?”

“You’re a princess now! Do you have a room to yourself?

“Is it true your wolf attacked your Uncle?”

“You’re as beautiful as ever, will you dance with me at your Nameday feast?”

“Do you still pray to our Gods?”

“Are you still good with a sword and ax?”

“Are they treating you well?”

Hvitserk couldn’t keep his hands off of her hair, it felt softer than it was back when she lived with them. Freyja blushed at her boys, they were so handsome and taller now especially Hvitty. His touch made her blush. Ivar grew envious of his brothers.

“Come” Freyja said and took Lagertha’s hand, “we must go back to my family. They are waiting for you.”

@mellxander1993 @faeeiiry @blonddnamedhandz @-thatgirloverthere- @lettersofwrittencollective @weirdpotatosstuff @shelbi-percifull @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @colie87

#blood of the dragon fanfic #game of thrones writing #game of thrones and vikings #game of thrones imagine #vikings writings #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #hvitserk x reader #ivar x reader #sigurd x reader

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kurowrites · 4 years

Text

Letters From Beyond - Chapter 3: The Wedding

I am stress-writing, don’t judge me.

Link to AO3.

---

It wasn’t a simple thing, to have a private conversation with the bride on the day of her wedding. She was the focal point of the ceremony, after all, and all eyes were on her.

All eyes were on Jiang Yanli, indeed. The Yunmeng Jiang and Lanling Jin sects had clearly spared no expenses or efforts. The bride, groom and banquet hall were dazzling in a way Lan Wangji found almost nauseating. All the major sect leaders and many minor sect leaders had been invited, and the noise of the celebration was considerable. More than once, he saw his brother hide a wince, and silently commiserated with him.

In one thing, however, Wei Wuxian had been proven right. Jiang Yanli looked beautiful in red and gold, the colours underlining her feminine beauty. Even Lan Wangji saw that, though his appreciation was on an entirely aesthetic level – unlike some of the gaping maws in the audience, apparently.

Shameful, he thought.

He found himself forced to resort to an amount of under-handedness he would usually never condescend to, but Lan Wangji eventually did succeed in his aim of getting a private interview with Jiang Yanli. After several failures, he finally found her alone in a hallway, just returning to the banquet hall after refreshing herself. Jiang Yanli smiled at him politely as she ventured to pass him by, but it turned into a faint frown when he stopped her instead. He tried not to think about what this must look like, a man cornering the bride on her wedding day, and instead handed her Wei Wuxian’s gift without ceremony.

“It is from your brother,” he explained to her. “He asked me to give it to you.”

To her credit, she understood immediately. Urgency altered her expression, her fingers moving quick to untie the string of the box. She gasped audibly when she lifted the lid of the box, and the beautiful lotus ornament inside sparkled in the sunlight illuminating the hallway.

Before Lan Wangji knew what was happening, tears were spilling from her eyes.

“Oh, Lan Wangji,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. I wish he could have been here today.”

“He wishes so too.”

More tears spilled from her eyes, and Lan Wangji felt helpless at the sight, unable to give her any consolation but the words that Wei Wuxian had sent him in his letter.

“He said he was sure that you would look beautiful in red. The most beautiful bride that ever was. You are.”

He looked up at Lan Wangji, giving him a watery smile.

“Thank you, Lan Wangji.”

“He also asked me to give Jin Zixuan disapproving looks, if I feel he deserves them.”

Now, she was laughing in earnest.

“Oh, that sounds like him. He was always strongly opposed to Jin Zixuan.”

“I know. He was not subtle.”

She smiled again, and looked down at the delicate lotus flowers glittering in the box.

“He left without saying goodbye,” she said, gently tracing the delicate petals of the flowers. “I miss him so very much. I don’t know what happened that night, but– Lan Wangji, I know it might be strange, coming from me, but my brother is not a bad person. He has always valued righteousness above anything else. Whatever he did, there is no doubt in my mind that he is a good man.”

There was nothing that Lan Wangji could reply to that. No one but Wei Wuxian knew what he had done. But there was no doubt that he had killed Jin Guangshan. Jiang Yanli’s father-in-law.

“Thank you,” Jiang Yanli said again, quietly.

Lan Wangji shook his head. There was nothing to thank for; he had simply settled a debt.

“Can you thank him too?” Jiang Yanli asked. Lan Wangji was sure he was not deceived when he heard a hopeful tone in her voice.

“I don’t know if I will be able to contact him again,” he replied honestly. “But If I do, I will.”

A servant then appeared, apparently in search of the bride. Jiang Yanli let the little box slip inside her robes, and took leave of Lan Wangji with a little nod, hurrying away.

Lan Wangji stood in the empty hallway for a moment longer. He had fulfilled his promise and handed the gift to Jiang Yanli.

Why, then, did he feel so empty now?

---

Lan Wangji had left Lanling with a headache. Only the return to Cloud Recesses finally provided a cure, its blessed silence surrounding him like a soothing blanket.

The second letter was waiting for him when he returned to the Jingshi. Again, it had been laid on his desk, with no indication of who had sent it, and that he was the intended recipient of it. But this time, he knew as soon as he saw the paper that had not been there when he had left. He went over to the desk and opened it immediately.

Lan Zhan, I thank you. I can’t express in words how much this means to me. If you ever need help from an evil cultivator, know that I owe you a favour. Not that you will ever need a favour from someone like me. I know you are better than that. But I offer it, anyway.

Wei Wuxian

It was… short.

Lan Wangji stared at the letter for long moments.

Was that disappointment that he felt?

Had he wanted the letter to be longer?

He carefully folded it, and put it aside.

“Hei?” he asked the empty air, but no crow or rustle of wings answered him. Hei must already have returned home to his master.

Well, two letters from the elusive Yiling Patriarch was much more than anybody else could ever expect, he told himself, so he had no reason to be either discontent or disappointed.

He pushed all thoughts of letters and crows away, and turned towards his luggage, still waiting to be unpacked. Since it had been a wedding and a formal occasion, Lan Wangji had travelled with much more clothing than he usually would have, and now it all had to be washed and returned to his wardrobe.

The stay in Lanling had been tiring, if Lan Wangji was honest. Though no one had dared to mention his name, some of the sect leaders had acted as if the Yiling Patriarch might burst through the door at any moment, raining fire and fury onto the assembled wedding party. That obviously hadn’t happened, and neither would Wei Wuxian have done such a thing to his own sister, but it had grated on Lan Wangji’s nerves. Not quite a year had passed since Wei Wuxian’s disappearance, but it had been enough time to turn into the monster parents scared their children into obedience with.

If you aren’t a good child, the Yiling Patriarch will come and steal you away. He will cook and eat you, or keep you as a slave.

While away from Cloud Recesses, he had heard several such stories.

Wei Wuxian was barely an adult himself, and now he was feasting on children. Ridiculous.

Before long, night was falling, and Lan Wangji had just lighted the first candle when he heard a crow coming from the round window that he’d left open in order to let in the refreshing evening breeze.

Hei was sitting on the railing, looking at him with a curiously cocked head.

“Hei,” Lan Wangji said in greeting. “Do you want to bring a message to your master?”

Hei crowed in agreement and sailed over to Lan Wangji’s desk. Lan Wangji followed him.

As he ground the ink against the inkstone, he thought about his reply.

Hei curiously poked at the inkstick, so Lan Wangji pushed him away. He grumpily nipped Lan Wangji’s fingers, but settled down on the desk, watching as Lan Wangji wetted the brush.

Wei Ying, he wrote.

He paused, and sighed.

You owe me no favour. I did not listen to you when I should have, and for that I am sorry. It was me that owed a favour, so think no more of it.

Your sister asked me to thank you. She was very happy with the gift you gave her. I am sure she will treasure it beyond its value as a piece of jewellery. She told me she misses you. You were right; she was strikingly beautiful in red.

For your sister’s sake, take care of yourself. She believes in you unfailingly, even when no one else does.

Lan Wangji

It was a woefully inadequate answer, but it would have to do. He sighed again, and folded it until it was small enough for Hei to carry.

“Safe travels,” he told the raven, and held the letter out for him.

Hei crowed in reply, snatched the letter, and vanished into the falling darkness with a flutter of his wings.

He had no doubt; this would be the last time he had heard of Wei Wuxian. There was nothing more for them to communicate.

---

When he went to bed that night, Lan Wangji had a hard time falling asleep. Once he finally did, his dreams were haunted by the sound of rustling feathers, a bird in flight.

Black feathers turned into equally glossy black hair, a black figure with slim hips and a teasing smile turning towards him.

Lan Zhan, the figure said, I owe you a favour. Do you know what that favour is?

A hand was on his chest, burning and hot.

Lan Wangji woke from his dream, starting up from his bed, sweating and disoriented.

But the Jingshi was calm as it always was, the first day of light just beginning to pierce the darkness, nothing but the familiar sound of the trees quietly rustling outside breaking the silence. The black figure that had seemed so real in his dream was nowhere to be seen.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This was ridiculous. Why would he dream of such a thing?

He got dressed quickly, and, instead of going for breakfast, he headed to the library to read about ravens.

---

The next time Hei came to the Jingshi, a small bowl of berries had been placed there for him. It hadn’t taken him long to discover it, Lan Wangji thought to himself when he returned to the Jingshi in the evening, considering that Hei was busily gorging himself on the berries, berry juice splattered all over his formerly pristine desk.

He needed to find a better place for the bowl, he reconsidered as he watched the raven wipe his beak on one of the books on the desk.

With a sigh, he went and fetched an old rag from a small chest where he kept his cleaning equipment, and offered it to Hei. As he cleaned the raven’s beak, he looked at the desk now smeared with berry juice.

There was another letter from Wei Wuxian. It was even smaller than the one last time.

With trepidation, Lan Wangji unfolded the small slip of paper.

Lan Zhan,

I wish you weren’t so good at making me cry with so few words.

Wei Ying

Lan Wangji sucked in his breath. The script seemed shakier than usual. Had Wei Wuxian been crying as he wrote that letter? He remembered now; Wei Wuxian had been crying too, when they had seen each other for the last time, that cursed meeting at Burial Mounds. It felt… odd, to say the least. Wei Wuxian was a murderer, and a traitor to the cultivation world. And yet it was Lan Wangji that made him cry. Not the opposite. If Wei Wuxian truly was the monster that all the stories told about, shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Lan Wangji looked at Hei, who had finished cleaning himself, and was making a nest of the old rag that Lan Wangji had offered him.

“Did I make him cry?”

“Caw,” the raven answered, and pecked him.

It didn’t hurt, but it was answer enough.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #letters from beyond

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star-shaped-thoughts · 5 years

Text

Kravitz might look like a skeleton with a hood and glowing eyes most of the time, but sometimes he's so much more than that. Or, Kravitz is a biblical angel.

Read on AO3

In the beginning, there is nothing. Nobody knows who created the first thing to be alive, a beautiful black bird with soaring wings that breathes and has a heart. It’s the first thing to live and the first to die. The moment it’s heart stops beating, the Raven Queen was born.

She’s regal, beautiful as a night sky and created from a dying bird, abstract and not human in any way, but she looks ethereal to even the worst of eyes. There aren’t words to describe her, and there would probably never be. But the Raven Queen is kind and lets everyone see her as they want in their last moments; a woman dressed in red, an old grandmother offering her hand, a man engulfed in blazing flames, whatever each person needs to come to her.

The universe keeps growing, and for each thing born it must also die, even if they’re only alive for a day like a mayfly or live hundreds of years. She takes care of everyone, but it’s not easy and she’s lonely. She doesn’t know when the gods started to appear, or when things like destiny became something everybody had. Things had been simpler back then, straightforward in a way that the universe hadn’t been in a while.

It takes time until she finds what she needs. A young raven looking at her as it’s dying, and she cradles it close when it’s last breath leaves it’s small lungs. In it’s eyes she doesn’t see a new version of herself, instead there’s the reflection of the night sky and black feathers and everything that makes her the Raven Queen. She looks at it and knows as surely as anything that the bird is meant for more.

For the first time, she creates a life.

The first thing Kravitz says to Taako when they meet is “Don’t be afraid.”

Well, it’s like the first thing he says to Taako after he stopped being a crystal golem. Taako doesn’t really get it because yeah okay a skull with glowing eyes in a cape can be scary but Taako’ seen worse. There’s also the accent, which. No.

When they meet again, much later in a different place and less crystals to worry about and more first date jitters, Kravitz once again says “Don’t be afraid.”

It doesn’t make sense, because Kravitz looks good in his suit and hair braided with golden treads. And then Taako doesn’t really have time to think about it anymore, Kravitz is handsome and caring and laughs with Taako and it’s a perfect dinner. He wouldn’t change a thing even if he could, weird greetings be damned.

The moment Kravitz is drowning in the darkness and Taako is too far away to do anything but hopelessly reach his hand out and watch, it feels wrong. And maybe it’s Taako diving headfirst into too deep feelings too fast, but kravitz looks like a bird trashing in an oil spill, desperately trying to lift his wings and getting his body to work to no avail. For a moment he’s neither man nor skeleton. Then he’s gone.

During the battle with John, The Hunger, the arrival of Kravitz with is something straight out of a vision. Taako gazes at him and he knows without a doubt that Kravitz is something different. There’s a mess of darkness around him unfolding with each step he takes forward and it takes a moment for Taako’s eyes to take it in and he blinks.

Kravitz has wings. Six oily black wings curling around him, feathers ruffled and bird like. But he’s still the same man who wants to heat himself up before kissing Taako, and Taako laughs and ignores the fact that there are eyes covering Kravitz all over- even in between the feathers, all of them filled with adoration.

It feels like Taako should have expected something like this, should have prepared for it and maybe had a moment with himself where he actually thought about what it meant to get involved with a man who works directly for a god. Strangely enough, he finds that he doesn’t really care, Kravitz is the same, even if there’s two eyes on his left cheek that sparkles and blinks at him.

“Don’t be afraid, please.” And Kravitz voice is almost shy, and his wings furrow closer to his back and the rest of his eyes glance sideways. He’s holding Taako’s hands, tracing the veins under the skin with his thumb delicately. There’s an eye on the back of his hand just slightly off center, and it closes, melting in with the dark skin on Kravitz hand so well that it might as well not even be there.

“Ah,” Taako blinks and tries again. “This is how you usually look? Or is it like, more eye-ting more fighting?” So sue him it didn’t rhyme or make sense. But Kravitz face didn’t really make sense either, it was all fair.

“No this, this is how I look, sort of.” Most of his eyes were looking away from Taako, focusing on something to the side of him or behind, his hands a bit sweaty.

Taako raises one eyebrow, or at least tries to. “Mhm, you got any other hidden features I don’t know about?”

“I- not anything you need to be concerned about right now?” There’s a blush high on Kravitz cheeks and he looks so cute, but in a very handsome way. It’s a weird mix that Taako appreciates looking at immensely.

“Yeah we’re gonna discuss that later because there’s obviously something, but like, I’d so be up for kissing you again before that.” Kravitz laughs before kissing him again, and again and again. Taako gets so many kisses that his head is spinning at the end.

It feels a lot like love.

He’s with Lup and Barry being guided through wherever they are by Kravitz to his queen. The floor is made out of branches, some as thin as his fingers and others that takes three steps to get over, and he can’t help but compare it to a birds nest. He gets it though, sticking to an aesthetic is important and the Raven Queen chose a bird theme.

Kravitz has a small spring in his steps, walking the uneven path like he’d done it a million times before. He looks comfortable, shoulders relaxed and hands clasped loosely behind him. As he turns his head Taako can see the small smile on his face, the same he wore during their first date. It makes him smile back, pleased to see Kravitz in his own element back home, because that’s where they are. In Kravitz home, and something burns in Taako’s chest, something warm and filling. He’s sure he looks way too excited to visit the god of death but Kravitz blows him a kiss and Lup rolls her eyes.

Taako feels more content in that moment than he has in a long time.

Here’s the thing: Taako has met gods before. He’s seen Istus, he should be used to them. The Raven Queen is not like other gods. She’s incomprehensible.

Taako can’t even look at her without his eyes straining and his head violently hurting. She’s too much, and he’s frantically trying to describe what she looks like but it’s impossible. She’s the sky- stretching wide and changing color, a desperate feeling of hopelessness and giving up and coming home, she’s a thousand birds and stars twisted together into a form with wings and beaks and light melted down. She has more eyes than he ever thought existed all looking at him and she’s bone deep exhaustion during the night when he can’t sleep, she a monotone note growing louder and louder until it’s roaring in his ears.

He has to turn his head, focus on something to the side and in the corner of his vision he can see her. It’s not much, and its vague, like being stuck in a dark room with the only source of light so faint you can’t see it by looking at it. There’s still ringing in his ears.

She opens her mouths, beak, throat, and the sound that comes out isn’t what Taako expects. It’s high pitched, loud and like a birdsong. He doesn’t understand it at all but he knows that she’s laughing, the motions vibrating in his chest and releasing the tension in him.

“Don’t be afraid.” Kravitz says next to him, reaching out and grabbing his hand and Taako doesn’t feel afraid. Because Kravitz is there next to him looking the same as always, even if his eyes have the night in them and there are dark wings spread out behind him.

“I’m not.” Taako responds, before kissing the lid of the eye on Kravitz hand. It feels a lot like devotion.

#taz #the adventure zone #taako #Kravitz #taakitz #taz fanfic

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whatwashernameagain · 5 years

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 25

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 8.095

Warnings: violence marked with ///////////////////////, sexual abuse marked with +++++++, blood, insults, self-hate, bad expectations of relationships, mentioned unhealthy weight loss, body insecurity

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: I have nothing to say for myself. My betas @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 and @hanramz-the-fander are the best, I love all of you, please take care of yourself! And check out the art at the end of the chapter!

Chapter 25

A thunderous crash following a whoop of joy penetrated the peacefulness of the isolated office. Both Logan and Captain Holt ignored the sound with the stoic determination of men used to the shenanigans of Jake Peralta and Roman Prince respectively.

The aforementioned detective had survived a near encounter with a stray bullet that had (barely) grazed his ‘beautiful face’ and had therefore immediately enlisted both Roman and Gina to throw him a party fit for the miracle of his survival and his general good looks and heroism. Roman had instantly thrown himself into organizing a play fit for the epic tale and had begun roping in officers too slow to escape his enthusiasm. The young man who had been swooning over him the last few days had been delegated to raiding the lost-and-found box for costumes. Logan estimated that their Captain would permit them another 48 minutes of frivolous displays before returning the precinct to its proper state of professionalism, barring a certain margin of error in case the fire extinguisher should make an appearance once again of course. Roman had been drawing up rather disturbing images of fog and explosions. Understandably, both men had therefore chosen to hide from the undignified behavior behind the safety of the closed office door.

“Would you care for an unsalted, assorted mixture of nuts, Nicodemus?” The Captain’s pleasantly monotonous voice inquired politely. The lack of emotion displayed by the other man was just to Logan’s liking today. A song being pitched and a shirt hitting the glass door with a ‘thud’ behind him were stoically ignored.

The therapy rat in question squeaked in affirmation, curiously standing on its hind-legs to pay attention to their conversation. The choice of respectively one almond, peanut, walnut, hazelnut and pistachio kernel were laid out before it in an orderly row. Nicodemus grabbed the hazelnut with his little paws, before giving a polite squeak.

“A very sensible choice.” Holt commended. “In my opinion, the pistachio kernel is such a purposelessly showy nut. It is certainly nut the most nutritious nut, despite its… gaudy coloring.”

Trying and failing not to show a small smile at the bad pun and the following association, Logan responded, “Indeed.” Nicodemus hopped around the laid out object of their observations and gave the Captain an unobtrusive tap on the hand like Roman had taught him before selecting a walnut.

“Your therapy rat displays quite pleasing manners.”

“He certainly does. I would expect nothing less from a distinguished pet such as him.” Another crash rattled the office, followed by a wailing complaint. “Unlike other… pets I have been told I have apparently acquired.” Logan grumbled, thinking back of Remy calling Roman his pet. Preposterous.

Meanwhile, Roman had scaled the makeshift stage and was narrating ‘The Incredible Story of the Heroic Survival of the Amazing Jake Peralta’, starring Jake Peralta as Detective Peralta, among other ‘volunteers’.

“Just as our dramatic hero believed the day to be saved, evil rose from the shadows beyond!” Roman cried, narrating the event that had caused his colleague to tragically wear a colorful band aid over his brow from his perch on four pushed together desks. He was a grand storyteller, lovely and captivating, making his audience wait with baited breath for the next part of his masterfully orchestrated play as he held his pose. And held his pose.

Annoyed, he cleared his throat, his voice becoming slightly high pitched. “Evil rose from the shadows beyond!”

A bag of chips rustled among the waiting detectives. Roman keened in annoyance, feeling his theatrical genius slighted. This would not do, he was aiming for a tale worthy of Broadway producers here! Renewing his pose with passion, he screeched, “EVIL ROSE!”

With a sigh, Logan rose from his chair in the safety of adult company. “Would you please excuse me, I believe I am missing my cue.” Putting on a preposterous bowler hat stolen from evidence with very little enthusiasm, he slunk into the bullpen.

“Prepare to die, fiend!” He growled while stiffly waving around a spotted umbrella for ‘dramaturgical reasons’, incredulously wondering why on earth he was doing this. Roman’s face lit up with happiness.

***

‘My evil plans, foiled again!’ - Tesla, who wrote lines like those?! Logan’s face still burned at the memory of the acting he’d allowed his partner to talk him into, and in front of his colleagues no less. The things he’d uttered, just to make the childish detective happy. He had clearly softened and he blamed his partner. There would be no dessert tonight! As he’d escaped the precinct, Roman had just prepared to orchestrate a grand sequel. Clearly, the time for a strategic retreat had come. Patton’s company ought to be the safer one.

Yet, despite having come to a mutual agreement to accept the young man’s situation and remain friends, Logan felt ill prepared to enter the Pat-isserie. They might have spoken and hugged at the hospital, however he still feared the influence of the baker’s relationship on their daily interactions. Would he even be able to ignore what he knew was going on in his private life, pretend everything was alright and engage in shallow conversation like he had before? His emotions felt too powerful to treat the situation casually. Despite his cool exterior, Logan was an intense man. He did not know how to love someone halfway. He liked to pretend Roman was the one who followed him around, the one who depended on him, but had his partner not resisted his demanding attempts at taking him in, he would have had Roman under his wing in his flat within the first few months of their tentative friendship. He still only grudgingly accepted the fact that the other returned to his own apartment occasionally. Additionally, the fact that he had - there was no other way to describe it – adopted the little troublemaker Virgil the moment the younger man had shown weakness and caved to his aggressive attempts at caring for him made the truth Logan had tried hard to hide painfully apparent. He needed people to care for. By some stroke of luck Roman and Virgil, even Patton, still believed he was the composed one looking after all of them, the one in control they needed to rely on, but in reality he needed them so badly he felt lost and empty without them. Not being allowed to channel all of that protective anger and loving feelings left Logan a precariously balanced mess, threatening to tip and spill all of those unused, unwanted feelings all over their fragile relationship, suffocating it. Patton didn’t want the things he had to give. If he couldn’t manage to hold himself together, keep his intense longing and protective feelings as well as his anger and helplessness at bay, he’d be turned away. He’d understand it, too. His nerves in his throat, the tall detective evaded a swarm of laughing children holding sticky cupcakes in both hands and stepped into the cafe.

Warmth seeped into Patton so suddenly, it left him feeling lightheaded. Or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. He really wanted to look his best from now on, Trevor was not fond of the weight he tended to gain around his hips, and had also been too nervous to get much past the dizzying mix of hope and insecurity in his stomach. So much had happened. Despite the changes he and Trevor had agreed upon following the shocking conclusions he’d come to, seeing Logan was as pleasant as it usually was. He’d slipped through the door and had held it open for a bunch of escaping little ones, allowing them to pass by under his arm, drawing attention to how tall he was. He looked as handsome as ever in his tailored, dark blue suit and silken tie, pale skin contrasting attractively with his raven hair. He’d even brought Nicodemus, which Patton always loved. There was a sort of pride and confidence about the detective whenever he was accompanied by his littlest friend, which Patton found too adorable. The realization of how much he wanted their friendship to work hit him hard. Logan had never been supposed to know. He hadn’t wanted him to be a threat, or for him to see Patton this way. He hadn’t wanted to seem weak.

With both men held back by their own insecurities, finding common ground was hard. Upon facing each other, neither appeared to know how to begin their conversation. Noticing the dark shadows under the detective’s eyes, Patton found he knew what he wanted, though. He and Trevor finally had a real chance at a happy ending after all those years of making each other miserable, why shouldn’t it be possible for him and Logan to find a way to make things work? He’d just need a place to start, and he knew exactly the right one. Feeling a keen sense of Déjà-vu, he silently stepped up to the taller man, being squeaked at by a cheerful, gray rat. Like the first time they’d met, Logan was hard to read at first, closed off and a little intimidating. Yet, like all those months ago, Patton could see beyond the facade. Offering a soft smile, he allowed the other a moment to prepare before raising on his tiptoes and carefully wrapping his arms around his friend. Their embrace was less sure than it had become in the course of their relationship, influenced by the insecurity of their opposing interests as a cop opposed to a victim unwilling to let him protect him. As a result, the detective’s body felt stiff under his hands at first, his jaw tense, his gaze closed off. Patton was patient though. He knew for once there was nothing to say. He curled close, bringing their bodies into close contact, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and letting his affection speak for itself. Wanting to help the other relax, he made himself soft and warm, melting against the long lines of his body like a cat. Like a strange reversal of their first proper hug, finally, Logan softened under him, his breath leaving him with his fear, his arms finally coming up to embrace him properly instead of awkwardly resting on his sides. He needed to be held more than he’d known. Patton’s own nerves quieted, leaving a soothing calmness behind. The rise and fall of the other man’s chest against his gave him something to focus on that made everything else cease existing. As always, the patissier and detective found common ground in each others arms.

Having greeted Virgil and left his beloved Nicodemus with a purring and rolling kitten upstairs to nap, the detective got comfortable on his usual spot, reviewing case notes in his notebook and surreptitiously watching his friends for any signs of distress. Considering the things he now knew, a lump up bitter fear rose in his throat whenever he had the chance to think about the things Patton had to face alone. He worried, all day, every day. Try as he might, the spiraling thoughts stuck with him from the moment he woke with a nauseous feeling in his stomach to the moment he fell asleep. It haunted his dreams and made him wake up in a pool of sweat. He could not help remembering the things he’d seen in his line of work, the reports and statements of women and men abused by their partners, scarred physically and emotionally. They overlapped with reality whenever he looked up to see Patton twirl around, smile at a child or coo at Virgil. He was so soft, so tender and beautiful and easy to hurt. He swallowed and returned his gaze to the paper, trying and always failing to forget.

A weight settled next to him, clad in lavender wool and trailing wisps of flour.

“Logan?” Patton asked softly, pulling at the sleeve of his soft sweater.

“Yes, Patton?”

“I can hear you thinking all the way over there, would you like...”

Flushing hotly, the detective cast his gaze down, mortified at being so obvious. “I apologize.” He hastily cut in, making the other fall silent. “And also for interrupting you. I did not mean to be disrespectful.”

The smaller man smiled, the expression once again softening his face, making him very pretty indeed. “Oh, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry! I know your smart head is coming up with so many ideas, so it’s best we just talk about it, don’t you think?” He asked reasonably, settling down comfortably next to his fretting friend. The way he curled up made him small enough to easily fit against the other man’s side, had he wanted to.

“I just want you to know that I had a really great chat with Emile, he is such a delight and so clever and helpful! And I realized how much had been going wrong with the two of us – I guess you knew a lot about that, being a detective and really smart and all – so we talked, Trevor and I, and he agreed to go to couple’s therapy with me, anything I wanted, really, he is truly trying, Logan. It’s wonderful how far he’s come and how much better we understand our mutual fears and problems now. I feel like I know him so much better than I did before, we are much closer now. He wants this to work as much as I do and I really believe it will, so – please don’t look so concerned, I don’t want you to be afraid for me. It’ll be okay, I promise! This time, all will be well.” He implored, his hazel eyes wide and trustful, filled with hope. It made something sharp twist in Logan’s chest, deep down were he harbored so much warmth. He attempted a smile, wanting to preserve Patton’s hope. He couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

“I’m pleasantly surprised by your partner’s willingness to accommodate your wishes.” He uttered diplomatically. Patton, perceptive as he was, was onto him though.

“Then… why do you look so tense? Is everything okay?” He asked anxiously, fear making his stomach feel queasy. Swallowing down all the things he wished to say but had no right to felt like making a rock settle in his stomach.

“Yes, certainly.”

A moment ticked by where the baker observed his friend, his brow furrowed. He seemed to come to a decision. Taking Logan’s calloused hand in his and making the poor man blush dreadfully with nerves and longing, he took his time to find the right words. Knowing the shyness of the detective, he kept his eyes cast down so not to make him feel exposed.

“I know I had to push you away a few times to, um, to get to the point where I wouldn’t have to be afraid for… you respect my wishes, though. I believe that, and I need that from you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be honest with each other. There has to be something good about everything being in the light now. I think we need to talk openly, so no fear and resentment is between us, and I trust you, Logan.” Finally looking up, he added quietly. “I want to hear what you think.”

The older man took a deep, fortifying breath, disarmed by the honest wish. Still, fear of overstepping and of hurting those hopeful feelings made him hesitant. He felt like a villain, uselessly destroying this belief that things could be better.

“I… don’t think it will work as you expect it to.”

Patton’s eyes widened, growing hurt and wet. As he almost unconsciously pulled his hand back into his lap, his posture changed immediately, making him seem smaller. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Logan attempted to explain his position, to make it better somehow.

“Patton, I apologize for causing you distress. Since I am hardly an expert on relationships, you have no need to heed my authority. You must consider the things I have been confronted with in the course of my work. I may have grown cynical. I may be wrong.” It cut him to say those words he could not believe, but pushing his opinion on the other would only push him away. Steeling himself, he added his most vulnerable thought despite his fear of how much it might reveal about his feelings.

“And although I deeply admire your ability to trust in the best in any individual, I also do not believe somebody who hurt you deserves the privilege to be with you. You should be with someone who cherishes the right to be by your side. Someone who sees you as worthy of love and protection.”

Breathing out a sad sigh, Patton softened. “It’s hardly a privilege!” He chirped, trying hard to make light of the situation with humor. Logan didn’t take the bait though. His face remained serious and earnest.

“I believe it is.”

His seriousness made the patissier pause. He had no idea how to respond to the depth of emotion he felt behind the words. A twisting, aching sensation of longing came over him unbidden. This was not fair! They were doing better than they had in years, he could not ruin their chance with his stupid heart! He loved Trevor, he had no right to yearn to know what it might be like to be taken home and belong to a man who believed having him was a privilege. Why did it feel so possible right now when the chance was farther away than ever? For a wild moment, he imagined just reaching out and touching Logan’s face, touching him, and just giving himself over to what felt so real all of a sudden.

He was being ridiculous.

Logan was – he was unreachable, and not only because Patton had nothing to offer to him and was probably stupidly imagining impossible things. He’d made his choice long ago and had even recently renewed his promise. He’d be Trevor’s anchor, his protector and caregiver – his everything. The weigh was heavy, but he’d bear it.

Trying to take away his caring friend’s suffering, and to convey some of the hope he’d found, he promised, “This time it will work. Trust me.”

If only Logan could know how much progress he’d made in understanding their dynamic. How hard Trevor tried. So much had changed and for the first time in years, Patton dared to genuinely trust that things would be okay.

“I hope you are correct. I may not believe he deserves to be with you, but I could never want you to be hurt again.”

The detective never lowered his head or hunched his shoulders, but the tension and pain around his eyes and jaw was clear to see.

Logan’s selfless honesty almost broke Patton’s heart. He could see how much the man was torturing himself and he wanted nothing more than to ease his suffering. The detective clearly hated his relationship and hurt whenever Patton returned to Trevor. He’d seen it in the crushed looks, felt it in the worried and protective way he’d cradled him close. Yet he still let him go without a fuss, relinquishing his hold on him with obvious difficulty. He even wished him well. And Patton should be happy. He’d been so afraid of Logan, of his fury, his power, his ability to hurt and break and force Patton to comply with his wishes through the authority of his position. His terror had almost driven them apart for good. Now that the detective accepted his needs and supported his choices despite his pain and anger, he should feel nothing but relief. And yet, he was proving everything Trevor had said about him right. He was foolish and his heart was quick and stupid. Logan was giving him what he’d fought for. His freedom to make his own choices, the right to choose who to be with - and some part of Patton wished he hadn’t. Now that the older man had set him free, all unlikely chances, all unrealistic dreams of being with him had vanished. Before the patissier had made his choice clear to the detective, there had at least been some lingering hope that perhaps, Logan was pursuing him after all. His hugs had been an offer of safety. At times, his touches had felt like a slow seduction, caressing him with utter gentleness, holding him firmly enough to make him feel kept and protected. The way his deep voice had spoken his name had been filled with tenderness. He’d felt so valued.

His heart was heavy as he realized there was no going back. Logan was still here, still looking at him with this impossible softness, but he had stopped fighting him on his decision. A decision he could not back down from, Patton knew that. But at the same time, he deeply regretted the loss of the possible future Logan’s fierce demands and threats to Trevor had symbolized. While his wave of fury and his loss of control had terrified him, Patton knew they had been an offer of a way out, an offer at something new. Even a way to show his appreciation perhaps? Men fought for what they loved, didn’t they? Possibly, his aggression might have been a sign of a deeper interest? This sort of aggressiveness had always accompanied any relationship he’d known after all. Trevor was so unbalanced because he loved him so much and feared to lose him, wasn’t he? And Logan had been ready to tear down walls and break bones to grasp Patton and take him home, away from his boyfriend and the constant doubt and guilt.

And he knew, it would have broken them apart.

Patton could not live in another relationship where he feared control and violence, where his choices were taken from him and where people even got hurt for him. Trevor was different. He was his responsibility and he knew what to expect from him. He hadn’t been able to help it and he was making an effort now. Logan on the other hand was more than that. Had he refused Patton’s demands, he might have been able to tear him and Trevor apart and even take him with him – there would be no one else left to turn to after all, no place to go but where the older man led him, but their relationship would have been doomed from the start. He’d be restricted and intimidated and would live with the knowledge that his decisions would not be respected. Logan was better than that and Patton deeply, desperately needed him to stay that way. He knew, in his bones, that he needed Logan to remain as good and kind and strong as he was. Someone to trust and look up to. Someone who trusted Patton and respected him. His existence gave him strength. His heart broke at the realization finally truly sunk in. This meant he would never be with the man. He could not leave Trevor on his own volition – not now when they were fixing things – and Logan could not force him or tempt him away since Patton could never feel safe or respected with him if he did.

He swallowed hard, casting his gaze down. His eyes burned.

He was such a mess. Stupid, stupid Patton. He should be happy right now, not cry over impossible things. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted – Trevor, his friends, a hopeful future – and here he was, moping over something he was not going to get anyway. Logan was out of his reach and probably not interested in someone as untidy and disorganized and overly emotional as himself. He’d find a beautiful and successful doctor or lawyer and marry them and be free of all those issues. And Patton would be with Trevor and all would be well. Yes.

Nodding to convince himself, he bravely tried to bring his sunny smile back, brushing his curling hair back to give himself time to compose himself. He was ruining their perfectly wonderful afternoon with his moping!

“Thanks for worrying. I appreciate you being there.” As Patton whispered those words, his throat grew tight. He felt his affection so strongly all of a sudden, as if he’d never see the other man again. For a moment, he felt so terribly trapped and lonely, as if he was locking himself away from everything that mattered to him. There was a distance between them he became desperate to bridge lest he’d lose his chance. He just needed to be held, just for a moment. Unable to give fair warning this time, he threw himself into Logan’s arms, burrowing his face in his chest and simply holding on. The detective tensed in surprise, before bringing his arms up automatically. He was obviously confused and overwhelmed with the sudden intensity of the situation, judged by his stuttering breath, but he never disappointed Patton, pulling him close instead of speaking – perhaps because he was floundering about what to say – and pressing him against his chest just right. The slight patissier drew a shuddering breath, not understanding why he felt so desperately needy. He couldn’t be close enough. Appearing to feel his need on some level, Logan leaned back and allowed his friend to sprawl over his chest, half in his lap, until he couldn’t see anything but the darkness those arms enveloped him in, feel his warmth and breath and smell his cologne and soap. As he was held tightly and safely, slowly, the panicked feeling started so recede. The heavy weight of loss and sadness in his chest would not quite go away, but even so, Logan’s hold made it easier to gain strength, to remember the good things. He was not losing his friend, he was right here. How silly he was! And most importantly, he loved Trevor. He really, truly did. Held safely, it was not impossible to remember how his boyfriend looked when Patton had made him truly happy. The image of his smiling face, the eyes crinkling at the corners, the little laugh, it made his heart swell. His joy brought Patton so much pleasure, he wanted to see more of it. He wanted him to be happy and he wanted to be with him in good times again. He looked forward to it. With new strength, he pulled back, smiling unconsciously at the memory of Trevor’s face lit up with honest laughter.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, grateful to the befuddled detective for offering his care without asking questions about his strange moods. Spurred by his hopefully swelling heart, filled with so much love and expectations for a bright future, he leaned up and kissed his detective’s cheek sweetly.

Drawing back, a flash of reddish blond caught his gaze in the window.

///////////////////////

The image of the two of them burned him whenever he closed his eyes, he’d never felt pain like this before, like it cut into him like a physical thing, making him flinch and curl around his wounded chest. For some reason, his thoughts were stuck on a random detail, so small in comparison to the devastating picture that had hit him like a slap in the face - the height difference between them seemed to circle around in his brain, stuck like a splinter he kept picking at until the skin bled, tiny and insignificant, but impossible to ignore, setting his nerves on fire and infecting him with red hot agony. He was tall.

Taller than him.

He’d looked so tiny in his arms.

His hands looked so big on him.

Proprietary.

Patton slipped through the door into their apartment Trevor had fled into just as it was about to fall shut, out of breath, his face ashen with horror. He stumbled over the tidy row of shoes in his haste, tumbling against the wall clumsily. He’d followed Trevor home as fast as his legs would carry him, terror making his heart thunder and his breath come in short pants. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he tried to speak – tried to lie.

Trevor wouldn’t hear it again. He cut him off, expecting to sound loud, angry – yet his own voice sounded nothing like he intended, it was a shock to him, small, shaking, begging.

“What was that?! Why did you tell me- I thought – you said you’d be with me – you promised you wouldn’t – and with him -” He gasped, quivering. He could see nothing but Patton in the tall man’s arms. He’d been as good looking as he’d feared, composed and elegant and so much – too much to hope to compete with – he’d always known Patton would find someone better, someone who didn’t lose control again and again and again no matter how hard he tried, and he’d tried, every time he’d hated himself. And the other - he was just like he’d imagined him, countless times, taking Patton away, his large hands on his boyfriend’s hips. A wave of despair overwhelmed him. How could he go on now? He couldn’t lose the only thing that mattered – the worst thing wasn’t the touch – the loss, though.

“Why did you make me think we could fix –“ He gasped, bis sight blurry. “You- you made me th-think I could be good enough, I t-tried so hard, I – I tried – I always try-” He screeched suddenly. He knew what he had been doing, he hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but his temper, his anger, he just felt so weak and overwhelmed, sometimes he just couldn’t- but Patton had made him believe, he’d been so ready to try everything – but even as he’d made him hope, Patton had already moved on. He hadn’t even let him show him. He’d chosen something better.

He’d been in his arms. He’d kissed him. He’d reassured Trevor, looked him in the eye and said he loved him and then he’d gone straight to him. Why had he made him hope? Why would he torture him like that – play him like that?! It was so cruel. Did he think – was this a joke to him?!

The thought hooked into his mind like a claw, piercing deep, drawing hot, gushing blood. The powerful, seething, crimson tide rose in Trevor’s chest, higher and mightier with every thought of his failure, his loss, the betrayal. Furious anger swallowed him up like a wave of boiling, lashing water. The detective, he’d been after his boyfriend from the start – Trevor had known it. He’d avoided the cafe unconsciously, had known it would take Patton from him, had known he’d meet someone, even though he’d promised – he was overwhelmed, helpless, furious, he’d made his promise to make everything well just the night before. He’d thought it meant the world. A renewal, a way to finally be healthy and happy. He was a weary, so brittle, he’d wanted to believe it so badly. Patton had looked so earnest. They’d kissed, touched – he’d believed things would be well, trusted him with his life, didn’t he know how much Trevor had given to him, how much he needed-

But Patton hadn’t cared.

The wave rose. He was untethered. He was pulled under.

Carefully, Patton approached him and he lunged, backhanded the whore right across the face. A cry echoed across the vast, empty room. The crash of a body hitting the floor fueled something primal in him. The door slammed shut and he was onto his prey, his tormentor – the man who’d promised him everything and had ripped it all apart. The man he couldn’t live without. The man that had hurt him so much, so much. He was losing his hold, he felt hot humiliation burn in his veins, sizzling desperation. He’d been made a fool, Patton had never wanted to fix them, he’d laughed at him with the detective – he’d never been good enough. Everything was falling apart, the pieces were slipping from his fingers, he was so helpless, being bashed and pulled by his own conflicting emotions, he couldn’t survive without him, his everything, his Patton - who felt like he was better, who’d gone behind his back after giving him hope, he had betrayed him-

He grabbed Patton by the shoulder – so thin under his brutal hand, yanked him up - his whimper made blood and adrenalin flood his head, high pitched, grating. He couldn’t bear to hear it, so loud, too much, he hated – he needed to silence him.

Unseeing fury drove his fist into his victim’s stomach, making him cough and retch. Patton fell to the floor hard, his knees buckling uselessly under him. It wasn’t enough. His fist was driven down on him again, beating, ripping, destroying.

He couldn’t breathe, black spots appeared before his vision. A fist to the side of his head smashed him down hard, making blackness consume him for a shocking moment. Blood spilled from his split lip. The pain in his skull almost split him in half – he was disoriented – he needed to tell him – but his tongue wouldn’t work – everything was spinning, fear choking him with his thunderous heartbeats, he tried to bring his arms up to shield himself but he couldn’t see, everything was blurring, where was Trevor?

A crash, shattering glass – so loud in his ringing ears it seemed to shake the apartment made him flinch. Something cut his raised arm like a whip, spilling sticky liquid over his skin, his throat closed up around the explanation, the apologies – he needed to – his mouth filled with blood, his stomach turned sharply-

Another slap cut his lip, a sharp pain traveled up his ankle, he choked up blood from where he’d cut the inside of his cheek on his teeth, how could he have let it come to this?! Trevor’s face was twisted with nothing but agony, red and raw like a gruesome mask, so very easy to recognize for Patton, who was so familiar with the pain, the guilt, the fear clawing up his spine, consuming him in a primal flash of terror.

His fists were shaking, his breath coming in uneven gasps. For a sudden moment, he was able to see through the haze of rage.

Patton’s small form lay crumbled on the floor, holding quivering hands up uselessly to protect himself. Blood dripped down his arm, his lip.

His voice shook. It was barely above a whisper. Pleading.

“Please, you promised.”

His narrow, bruised chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, his hazel eyes wide and terrified, bitter tears mixing with the blood running from his split lip. He sounded broken.

Worse. He did not sound surprised.

It was a punch in the gut. He had never believed Trevor could do it- his failure had always been expected. He was everything that gave Trevor strength, everything he had to hold onto, and he’d never trusted him in the first place. All he’d done was make him think there was a chance, make him hope, and then crush him with the knowledge of his pathetic deficiency.

The blood on Patton’s face made his heart thunder, making him pulse with anger hate failure, bright crimson, accusing him, he’d failed again, it made guilt and humiliation twist and intertwine with the rage, the feeling of defeat, of falling into a hole after waking up from his madness, seeing the effect of his loss of control, his babe, broken and ugly, smeared with blood, dragging himself up, looking at him with fear, forgiving him again, he always had to forgive him he couldn’t do it right, the water in the bathroom turning red as he washed the traces of Trevor’s failure off his body with shaking, cut hands. Trevor hated the detective for being so good, so smart and successful and unreachable, for being superior, too much to hope to compete with, he felt small and useless, insignificant and helpless and angry at him for making Patton turn from him, making him feel this way, for making him do this again – for failing again – he’d thought he’d controlled it now, he’d been strong, he’d protected his babe from himself and now he’d made him lose his hold, it was all in vane, he was nothing, and Patton had drawn this onto himself, why had he made him fail, why hadn’t he seen how hard he’d tried, he’d turned it around, he’d done better, HE’D FIXED IT and he still went back to this other who was better the whore he didn’t want him he hated Patton he hated HIMSELF.

He’d deserved this.

Half crazed, Trevor grabbed a brutal fist full of the patissier’s hair, yanking him up on his knees before him. He needed to regain control, assert his strength somehow, his anger drove him to grow hotter, wilder-

He’d asked for this.

+++++++

His trembling fingers fumbled with his belt, his fly, the smaller man cried out, his heart racing, frantically trying to pull away, ripping out bloody strands of hair.

No, please not again! Patton vividly remembered the only time Trevor had lost control to his anger so badly, still tasted bitterness on his tongue whenever he recalled the terrible night. It had been their worst one yet, he’d been so mad, forcing Patton onto his knees, spitting insults and self-loathing, prying his jaw open with ruthless hands. Patton had been paralyzed by horror, disbelieving of what was to come. He’d never thought Trevor would do something so terrible to him, he’d never – but he’d forced his cock into his mouth with one thrust, shoving Patton forward by the hand in his hair, making him take him all the way, way too far. Shock had frozen him for long, agonizing seconds, before his body had rebelled with revulsion and terror. He had scrambled against the unforgiving hold, unable to breathe, panic flooding him. Trevor had been mad with rage, brutally thrusting into him, calling him a slut, a whore, a monster, forcing his way into the smaller man’s throat, making his choke, making him retch. Bile had filled his mouth, lack of air making him thrash and cough, fighting to breathe, fighting for his very life. Trevor had only pulled back long enough to make him cough, gasp, before he’d yanked him back, twisting his hands in the weaker man’s hair, making him take it till he was finished. Once he’d come down his throat, he’d dropped Patton as if he were something rotten, disgusting and vile. As if Patton were dirty. He’d never forgotten the look. It still haunted him at odd moments, made him flush with shame and humiliation. He’d never stopped feeling it. As he’d lain on the cold tiles, bitter vomit and semen running down his chin and mixing with the blood in his mouth, right before he passed out in the dirt smeared over his face and chest, he’d felt like he deserved to be looked at this way.

Terrified, hot tears ran down his cheeks as Trevor yanked his face up by the fist twisted in his locks. He tried to plead, to beg. He couldn’t survive this again, he couldn’t.

“No, please, please I can’t, you promised, you said you’d never make me-”

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU LYING WHORE!”

Trevor screamed, shaking Patton so hard by the hair it made his teeth clash together painfully. The taller man heaved, tears falling onto the bloody face beneath him. His own was twisted into a reddened, horrid mask of fury and anguish. His mouth had turned into an ugly grimace, caught between a snarl and a sob. He managed to undo his fly, fumbled with his underwear-

++++++++

A crash echoed through the apartment like a gunshot, shockingly loud. It left both men deafened for a long, horrifying moment.

Blearily, Trevor looked up from the body at his feet. The realization came a few heartbeats too late. A fist crashed into his face with the force of a freight train, making him drop like a leaden weight.

It had been a gunshot.

The projectile had shattered the lock of their front-door, making it afford no protection against the kick that almost ripped it off its hinges. Only his extensive training had made the detective punch the attacker instead of shooting him on sight. Had he had time to process the picture he’d seen, he might have murdered the man in cold blood, leaving nothing but a shredded corpse. The moment he found Patton crumbling to the floor however, nothing else mattered to the detective. Flooded with a cold horror he had never experienced before, he sunk to the ground in front of him.

/////////////////

Patton.

Oh Patton.

His hands shook at the sight before him, his breath coming in a sob. Oh no.

He reached out, impossibly horrified-

Patton flinched, crying out and shielding himself. His ears were ringing, the shot had been so loud. It did not matter that no one was touching him, he was trapped, his heart raced so hard, it felt like it would give out, he choked on phantom touches, lightheaded and frozen. Knowing he could not fight, he could not get away, he curled up, hiding his face in his bleeding arms, waiting for whatever he’d be put through in blind terror.

He was so cold.

He did not know how long he lay there, quivering and crying, waiting for the violence he’d been so sure he’d never have to endure again, until finally, a sound cut through the blood rushing in his ears. A sob. Someone else was crying.

Looking up went against all of his hard learned instincts of making himself small and invisible.

He needed seconds to understand what he was seeing.

Logan was kneeling before him, tears streaming down his face. His clean, lovely hands were twisted tightly around each other, shaking as badly as Patton was. His eyes… there were no words to describe how shattered he looked. The patissier whimpered, strenuously drawing himself up.

“L-Logan?”

The detective tried to speak, his voice breaking. He had to start again, visibly fighting the urge to touch Patton, to envelop him in his arms and pick him up from the hard, white tiles smeared with blood.

Logan felt utterly helpless. Patton’s eyes were so wide, so hurt. Another sob threatened to break free from the confines of the detective’s chest. He felt half numb, half tortured. For a long moment, he could barely make sense of how terribly Patton had been treated. The sheer cruelty felt impossible.

He realized he did not know what to say.

Patton appeared disoriented, shock settling in and making his thin limbs quiver like leaves in the wind. He was so tense and tiny, his breaths coming in uneven gasps – but quiet, like he was trying hard not to be noticed. His strength seemed to leave him suddenly, threatening to make his arms give out and make him fall. Logan reached out on instinct to steady him. A frightened gasp and flinch made him freeze. He was too large, too close. The detective fumbled to find words he knew would fall short.

“Patton, I-I would never harm you. You are safe now.” The detective’s deep, unsteady voice pleaded with him to trust him. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, open and non-threatening, tears dripping down his chin. Patton could not look away for a long, fearful moment. Trevor’s hands had been balled into fists, veins and tendons staining against the bones, the skin broken at the knuckles. Terror flooded him once again, gripping him like a mouse pierced by an eagle’s claws. The patissier scooted back, his breath hitching. His right hand braced itself on broken glass, driving the shards into his palm. Logan’s eyes burned, horror and anguish flooding his voice.

“Wait, please – you don’t need to fear me! I am so sorry, I did not meant to frighten you, I only – I only want to help you.” He almost whimpered, feeling utterly helpless. “I would never touch you without your consent, I- I will stay right here, alright?”

Patton nodded, unconsciously drawing his wounded hand into his lap. It was full of glass shards cutting his soft skin. It hurt Logan to see it like nothing he’d ever felt before. Think, you useless fool, he berated himself. He wished Virgil and Roman were here.

“You are cold, may I get you a blanket?” He asked carefully, fearful of doing anything Patton couldn’t place. The detective did not like how long it took the baker to answer with another nod. He wondered if he even heard him. The urge to hold him became almost unbearable. Thankfully, he found a blanket draped over the back of the leather couch, stiff with how little it had been moved. He sank back on his knees before the injured creature.

“Patton, may I put this around your shoulders? Please?” Upon receiving another nod, he approached the other slowly, uselessly wishing he were less frightening, he were better at this, that he could just fix everything. Patton clenched his teeth as Logan leaned close to wrap the blanket around him like it was something he was forced to endure, as if a wild animal were about to tear into him if he moved too much. He was trapped by a man’s closeness and his memories.

“There you go, Patton. It will be alright. May I help warm you? I swear I will leave the moment you tell me to.” Logan attempted to assure him, having no idea whether his physical reassurance would help or make things worse. At this point, Patton’s nod felt less like agreement than learned behavior in traumatic situations. Logan didn’t know if he could trust it, didn’t know what to do, so he carefully, as slowly and gently as he was able, pulled the patissier against his side, hugging him loosely.

“I am so sorry.” He cried, his tears falling on bloody curls.

“It’s fine.” Patton mumbled hoarsely, breaking Logan’s heart. Yet the warmth and familiar hold seemed to thaw something in the younger victim. He started breathing more deeply, slowly leaning against the detective. He was coming back to him. And with it, the realization that this was all his fault. All of his blood, his cut skin and bruised body, Trevor had inflicted the pain he’d himself felt, because Patton had made him hope where there was none. Instead of cutting his losses, he had tried to make everything right that was broken so far past repair. He’d believed all of the promises as if he didn’t know better. He was so foolish, so stupid. Too stupid to fix them. Somehow, the worst thing was that just minutes ago, he’d told Logan to trust him. That things would be alright. He’d believed it. He was so ashamed.

Feeling tiny and ugly and so stupid, he sobbed, burying his face in Logan’s arms. He was here. He held on to him, rocking him gently and shielding him from the world. Patton found himself in his lap as he realized the cold had stopped seeping into him from the tiled floor. His hand was cradling his neck, his arm supporting his back, holding him entirely. Patton’s strength left him.

At least, as he sunk into the hold unresistingly, his frazzled nerves tortuously slowly realizing he was safe, the truth about Trevor started to sink in. He would never change.

It was over.

The thought triggered a pressing memory in his sluggish mind. Trevor? Icy fear came with it. He’d come to feel so safe in Logan’s arms, like his protection and Trevor’s threats could not exist in the same world, but they did. They were in the same room. He flinched, whimpering silently. Where-

Through tears and blood clouding his vision, he spotted a prone form crumbled on the ground behind the man holding him. He shrank back, shocked.

“Oh n-no Trevor- d-did you – is he...”

“No! Of course not, he will recover, I merely incapacitated him. I promise.” Logan assured him hastily, seeing terror of the effect of his violent intervention seep into the broken young man before him. “I am so sorry you had to see this, Patton.”

It seemed to be the last straw for the patissier. He was simply overwhelmed.

“Logan.” His voice broke on an unworded plea. Yet, the detective understood without having to be told.

“Please, let me take you home.” He whispered.

After a long moment, Patton nodded. As carefully as if he were cradling a newborn kitten, Logan bundled the injured young man into the blanket and lifted him into his arms. Glass crunched under his shoes as he carried him outside, hiding his tear stained face from the shocked neighbors finally daring to enter the hallway. Patton heard none of it. He pressed his face to Logan’s chest and closed his eyes.

ART:

@dweeborg created this gorgeous combination of Roman with stunning makeup and Virgil with his lovely hair, as well as a (shirtless, yum) picture of Virgil feeling good after his spa day.

How cute is Logan with Nicodemus on his shoulder?! Painted by @lienlovesshadowhunters

@doctorwhooian drew Roman being absolutely STUNNING in a crop-top and knee-high boots.

A personal favorite: @typical-torii gifted us with a drawing of RoRo having his locks combed to the side, looking bad-ass after a fight. He’s so fricking pretty like that!

A picture I absolutely LOVE – Roman glittering and lovely with a super cute man-bun giving Virgil inappropriate feelings, their expressions are just so utterly adorable and the raccoon in judging. Thanks a thousand times to @anxiously-chill

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective Logan #Detective Roman #baker Patton #delinquent Virgil #Prinxiety #Logicality

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tu-writers-room · 7 years

Text

The Snow Queen – Twisting morality and aesthetics

A quick take on Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen” for my Creative Writing class. The task was to rewrite a fairy tale with a certain “psychological twist” reflected within the tale itself.

First story, which deals with the mirror and the shards of glass.

Right then. Time to start. The day a shard of mirror fell from heaven right into the heart of men was the day the devil silently laughed. A mirror able to reflect the bad and the evil of humanity in this god created world, which shrouded the gaze of those who came to the misfortune of a broken piece piercing through their view and gorging out the warmth of their heart, which turned anything the human eye beheld as beauty into a thing they regarded as hideous and unworthy. The devil, who was sitting on his dark throne on a high mountain far away from heaven and earth, looked upon his bloodied paws and the remains of shattered glasses scattered around his hooves. He was surrounded by a crowd of bickering demons – the source of such unfortunate event of the broken mirror, the ones who ripped open the box of Pandora. In a deep husky voice, the devil whispered to his loyal subordinates:

“The box of Pandora?”, he wondered in a reasonable, almost reserved manner one would not expect from such vile being. “The mirror does exactly as it does. It reflects what is there – no less, no more…”

The demons chuckled in consent clapped their long gaunt hands together as they applauded their master. The mirror was meant to be carried by the demons to the realm of god and his angels, as the devil ordered them to show the far away world – which is alternately referred to as heaven, the manifestation of the humane imagination of paradise – their dreadfulness and insignificance of being.

“… an image as fugitive as snow.”, the devil mumbled and got up from his throne, slowly scuffed to the tall woman covered in a majestic white fur coat which was draping over her seat as she took place right in front of him. She barely looked him into the eye, instead had a brief glance over the glass pieces on the floor, looking for her own reflection in them, but instead saw nothing.

“There is no reason to your action”, she finally said in a hush, icy tone, “what is the point in showing heaven its dreadfulness, its arrogance towards this humane, distorted world? As the mirror shows an image even more truthful than what could meet the eye? Look down, where your demons have dropped the mirror. And see with your very own eyes what truth mankind will discover hidden within themselves.”

The devil thought about the Snow Queen’s words as he watched her standing up, dragging the seam of her coat along with her. Every step of hers created small ice crystals under her feet, though soon to be melted by the warmth of the devil’s realm.

The second story. A little boy and a little girl.

In a big town where space and gardens were rare and people had to resort into cherishing flower pots, there lived a boy and a girl who grew up together as if they were siblings. In the summer, they enjoyed playing together as their parents lived close to each other and their respective balconies were only one small leap away. On these balconies, their parents owned pots of roses of which they took pride in – they grew high up along a wooden arch under which the boy, Kai, and the girl, Gerda sat together and enjoyed each other’s company – during spring time, throughout the summer and autumn, until winter came. The winter was especially cruel that very year and most of the times, the two friends spent their days at Gerda’s grandmother and listened to the old woman’s tales – tales about bravery, loyalty, the love and friendship of a girl to a boy which sent her on a memorable adventure to save him from the grips of evil – indeed, it was a story about love and the good prevailing over the evil in the world. With their childlike, innocent excitement they sat on the warm carpet floor and listened, mesmerized by the old woman’s tale. But they were not the only ones, for there were a raven and a snow owl sitting at a lonely branch looming outside of the frosted window.

“Watch.”, mumbled the owl who was the Snow Queen in disguise, to the raven, the devil who was enthroned next to her. She flapped her soft white wings and cold air began to creep through the cracks of every wall, and the few shards of glasses, like glimmering dust in the air, entered the heart of Kai, some of it even got into his eyes, made the boy yawn and rub his face. The grandmother chuckled at him, gently caressed his hair and sent the children to bed.

Third story. What happened in the Snow Queen’s palace, and what happened afterwards.

The devil and the Snow Queen met again as the first snowflakes started to vanish and buds of flowers shyly greeted the thawing sun from under the white blanket which hid them away during winter time. It was the Snow Queen’s palace high up in the mountains where no life could ever reach to. There she resided, in an empty palace of precise elegance yet cold, sterile beauty with a hundred halls each mirroring the other in perfect symmetry, yet paradoxically enough – they mirrored nothing as there was nothing to see – because only nothingness existed within her kingdom. And in the middle of it the Snow Queen sat when at home, and then she said that she sat in the mirror of reason, and that this was the only and best thing in the world. Snow was nature’s treasure, in her eyes, its tragic beauty doomed to vanish; but in the Snow Queen’s halls, they could be eternity.

“You remember what happened in those few months to beloved Kai and Gerda?”, asked the Snow Queen. “The boy ceased to play with his childhood friend, yet prefers to play in the snow with the boys of his village. He tore the remains of the rose garden in disgust, yet admires the perfection, the beauty and tranquillity of snow. Do you think the effect of your mirror makes of him a bad character? Your shards of glasses are just reflecting what has been inside of him and was not visible up until now. It reflected change – the evanescence of life, the fugacity of moment.”

The devil only nodded, as he recalls the effect of the demonic mirror in his old mind. “Perfectly rational.”, he commented as he remembered the episode of the torn rose which made little Gerda weep, as she was a girl who cherished flowers, beauty and warmth.

“Maybe this kind of coldness lays in human nature.”, the Snow Queen concluded without batting an eyelash. “That would explain the insignificance of heaven, don’t you think? Who and what are we to judge good or bad, beauty and ugliness. If you want to see the reflection of god and the angels you might as well look down on the beings he created in his image – maybe as a reflection of his image, if you want so.”

The devil smiled. “Coldness is cruel.”, said he while looking at her with cheeky eyes. “It freezes and kills. You have heard the old woman’s tale. Of the boy who almost froze to death but was saved by the pity and love of a human girl as god’s angels accompanied her brave heart to the hall of the witch.”

The Snow Queen rose from her icy throne, whipped the white fur coat over her shoulder and stepped towards her demonic visitor. “And yet the boy saw beauty in coldness. Whether you regard the preciseness of a snowflake or the gentleness of a rose as beautiful… or the girl’s optimist emotionality opposed to the boy’s rationalism as the better way to see life – can you ever really judge these imperfections, you, of all beings roaming in the shadows of the earth, devil?”

The devil looked at her, rose his eyebrows, blinked a little. “That would be quite an act of naivety, we both are aware of that.”

The Snow Queen only nodded as an answer and stepped down from her pedestal.

“Where are you going?”, he asked, feeling the cold chilling in his every vein as she walked pass him.

“To a place less ambiguous, less warm than this one.”, she said. “Where snow is forever and the northern lights are definite, there I shall reside. And I will come back in the winter to take my place. Will you come with me?”, a certain slyness he has never spotted before flashed in her eyes for only a little moment.

“I prefer hell.”, he replied dryly.

The Snow Queen shrugged and the devil once again watched her, how she started to dissolve into tiny snowflakes, like a swarm of bees of whom she was the queen and got carried away with the wind to her fated destination. At the end he stood alone in the empty hall of her palace and looked at his own reflection in the ice. He saw nothing.

- Cam Ly

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walters-tampon-string · 7 years

Text

Bird Watching Club

Fandom: Batman

Rating: K

Warnings: Oswald is kind of an ass and an elitist but it’s not too horrible.

Characters: Oswald Cobblepot/Penguin, Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow

Relationships: None

Alternate Universe: High School

Description: All Oswald wanted was his club to have a few dedicated members that he could enjoy watching birds with. Was that really so much to ask for?

Note: Special thanks to @after-nath for betaing. Check out her writing. She has quality fic content.

Oswald Cobblepot had known right from the beginning that his club was probably not going to get a lot of members. After all, bird-watching was a rather niche interest, and he knew most of his peers were too rowdy and hyper to truly appreciate the art. But he was fine with that. He didn’t need to be like Edward Nygma, who seemed to always find the overwhelming need to tell people about how many members his Science/Robotics Club had. As long as he had a couple dedicated members, he would’ve been happy.

So forgive him if he sounded ungrateful, but he had honestly expected at least more than one pissing member!

Oswald was flabbergasted. He had thought at the very least he would get three members! But he’d been sitting in the school library for hours now and no one else had walked through the door looking for the club. Was this a fluke? A mistake? He somehow doubted it. The elaborate posters he’d hung around the school had been very thorough in explaining where and when the first club meeting would be held. No other people had come and said they would be absent for this particular meeting or anything of the like either…

Oswald groaned in dismay and ran his fingers through his greasy black hair as he came to the realization that his Bird Watching Club he had been so excited about creating all summer might only really have two members, him being one of them.

This realization was a bitter enough pill to swallow… but it got worse. The only other member of his club was Jonathan fucking Crane.

Oswald admittedly did not have the highest opinion of Jonathan Crane. The two of them had never spoken much, as Jon was in different classes than him and the loner was a bit of a quiet kid anyway. But even with the limited interaction the two of them had, Oswald could safely say he found Jonathan to be the creepiest person he had ever met.

Fitting too because Jonathan even looked creepy. From his gangly, too thin limbs that reminded Oswald of the branches of spindly dead trees, to his hauntingly blue eyes that never failed to make Oswald’s blood run ice-cold whenever he looked at them directly. The kid’s neutral expression seemed to be a deep scowl and when one added that with his ugly features, the boy had the appearance of a creepy old man. The kid was rail-thin and looked like a skeleton who decided to put human skin on, adding to his overall unsettling appearance.

Plus, he was way too tall for his own good and Oswald had never liked tall people.

But even with looks aside, Jonathan just made Oswald feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was the fact the boy was so quiet that it just made him even more unsettling than usual … or the fact that whenever someone talked Jonathan would stare at them unblinkingly, like some kind of owl or cat, as if he was trying to look into their soul. The boy’s voice was low and almost detached… and when you added that to the fact that Jon seemed to have an almost creepy obsession with the subject of horror and other dark things… he was unsettling.

Even now, he could barely stand to look at the other kid and Jonathan wasn’t even doing anything. He was just sitting there with a bored expression on his face (probably from having to sit there for hours with basically no word from Oswald), drumming his spindly fingers absent-mindedly along the library table. His fingers were so thin and gnarled they looked like claws. Oswald repressed a shiver.

So instead of looking at Jonathan, he decided to look at the door some more… hoping desperately that someone else just happened to be very, very late or something… but it seemed that was not the case.

Finally, Jonathan’s voice broke him out of his stupor.

“Oi, are we ever going to do anything here? Great Grandma Keeny doesn’t like me being gone for too long and I got chores to finish…”

Oswald flinched. Jonathan hadn’t spoken this whole time, so his voice came out of nowhere. Once he recovered from that mini heart attack, he confusedly tried to figure out what Jonathan was talking about when he remembered that Jonathan was a farmer boy. He lived with his wrinkly old grandmother, who also looked very creepy. According to his mother, apparently the Keeny family had once been a great family name, but now they were basically broke… which would explain why Jonathan looked like he shopped at the local dumpster for clothes.

Great… he could tell he was going to be able to relate with this welfare kid a whole lot.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. If Jonathan was the only one interested, so be it. At least he would know how to be quiet so he wouldn’t scare away the birds… at least if they didn’t spot his head over the trees… which was highly likely.

Sighing in defeat, Oswald quickly detailed where and when they would have their first meeting and just prayed that this didn’t end up way too much of a failure.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He must have pissed off some sort of entity somehow… because not only did his club not get hardly any members… but this first official expedition was going absolutely terrible!

They had been walking around these woods for hours now, pausing momentarily every so often to look for anything… but they had not found one single bird. Oswald couldn’t help but feel somewhat ripped off. All he had wanted was to see birds naturally in the wild. Not by artificial means like a bird feeder or something… just pure unadulterated bird action. And supposedly, these woods had some specific breeds of birds not often seen in the city. Oswald had brought his bird book and everything for this event to help identify them… but so far they had yet to hear even a birdcall.

Part of Oswald wanted to blame Jonathan for it for some reason… maybe the fact the kid was so tall that a bird from miles away could see him probably… or perhaps his footsteps were causing too much noise. However, arguing with Jon would cause too much noise and they were over here trying to avoid noise.

To his credit, Jonathan had been silent this whole entire expedition … not once complaining and dutifully looking around for birds… but that also kind of pissed Oswald off because he was so bored part of him wanted to hear even the slightest bit of noise. The silence was killing him.

But he just continued to walk until finally, he came to a spot in an open area and put on his binoculars… hoping to see a bird hiding among the leaves of the trees.

His desperate search was turning out uneventful when suddenly, he heard Jon whisper, “Bird.”

Oswald flinched at that and looked around desperately, hissing excitedly, “Where, where?!”

Jonathan’s long finger pointed over in the distance. Oswald squinted to see what in the world was looking at and was greeted with the sight of… a crow. A plain, ordinary boring crow that was just pecking away at something invisible on the ground.

Oswald couldn’t help the anger that burst through him. Spitting in disgust, he said, “I was kind of looking for a bird that I don’t see every day in the city, Jonathan.”

Jonathan actually looked somewhat offended at that and said, “Hey, crows are very smart birds. You can train them to do all sorts of tricks and I actually got a crow once to deal with a kid who I personally disliked and-”

Oswald just let him yammer on, not wanting to pay attention. It only made sense a creepy kid like Jon would like a boring scavenger like a crow or raven. Probably fit his Poe aesthetic or something.

Jonathan must have noticed he long since stopped paying attention as he scowled at him, but thankfully, he moved along with Oswald when he began trekking forward. Oswald didn’t need to be responsible for losing the dumbass in the woods just because he had made the other kid huffy.

Unfortunately though, it seemed he invoked Jonathan’s ire because as they were walking and Oswald was busy trying to find some other bird that existed in these seemingly barren woods, Jonathan would constantly interrupt him by saying, “Bird.” Only to be pointing to a crow again, which never failed to make Oswald mad. What made it even more infuriating was that every time he fell for it, Jon would smirk like he was oh so fucking clever. Oswald honestly thought about slugging the kid more than once, but he also didn’t want to get his throat slit in the middle of the night with a scythe so he held off, instead just marching off hoping he would find some kind of cool bird that would make this whole miserable experience at least somewhat worth it.

Unfortunately, hours later, that did not seem to be the case. Jonathan somehow kept spotting more and more crows… but Oswald couldn’t catch sight of a single interesting bird. Wanting to take a break and internally weep, Oswald slouched against a tree and glared at the ground, cursing his rotten luck and considering yelling at the person who recommended these woods to him.

While he was sulking, Jonathan began digging around in his large pants pockets. Oswald watched as he fished out small bags of bird seeds and he was about to snap at Jonathan that they were supposed to do this without help, before he decided not to bother. Who cared? Jonathan would probably just ignore him and besides, he doubted Jonathan would find anything anyway. He was pretty sure any bird species other than the crow were extinct.

All of a sudden, the sounds of wings erupted into the air as long as a series of caws and suddenly a whole bunch of crows came out of the woodwork to come feed on the seeds that Jonathan was spreading on the ground. Oswald blinked in shock, looking at the number Jon had managed to collect.

Apparently Jonathan had spread a few seeds on his shoulders and stuff as a couple of the birds landed on his shoulder. Jonathan was grinning genuinely for once… something Oswald never thought he would see. He watched as the gangly teen stretched out his arms more so more crows hopped on his arms to see if there was any food. Oswald couldn’t help but note the boy looked like an actual scarecrow in that position.

Part of him wanted to get mad… but now that he was really looking at the birds… they were sort of cool. They had glossy feathers and they seemed to be sharing some of their food and Jonathan was able to move so naturally within them apparently as he began walking around them…

Leaning back, Oswald sighed in defeat and began watching the birds… figuring this was the best he was going to get it.

#Oswald Cobblepot #Jonathan Crane #batman #ashs writing #scarecrow #the scarecrow #penguin #the penguin #fanfiction

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keeleysmuses · 7 years

Text

charlie bio

THE BASICS

Name: charlotte doran morningstar Nicknames: charlie, lottie, char Gender: female Pronouns: she/her Sexual Orientation: pansexual Age (actual age): 25 Place of Birth: montreal, canada Citizenship: american

APPEARANCE

Age they appear: 17/18 Hair colour: dark brown/raven Hair style: straight Eye colour: brown Birthmarks/scars/marks: has a birthmark on her right arm, just above her elbow. two scars down either side of her spine, these are from when her wings first came through. Piercings: both lobes pierced. Tattoos: because she’s a little shit, she has devil horns tattooed on her right shoulder blade.

Build (curvy, toned, etc): she was a rather chubby child, but after getting picked on in high school, she started to work out more often. running was her favourite sport, along with basketball, even though she was short. now her body is toned and curvy. Weight: around 57kilos Height: 5′4″ Clothing style: it depends on the day and who she’s around mostly. when charlie hangs out with maze, it’s mostly leather pants with a loose fitting singlet and a leather jacket. if she is spending the time with lucifer, it is a lot more laid back, jeans, converse, and while keeping the loose fitted singlet and her leather jacket. Overall appearance: no matter what she’s wearing, charlie is always considered neat.

Trinkets/jewelry: has a bracelet that looks like a snake, this however is magic, given her witch heritage - her mother left charlie on the front door step of the doran’s with this bracelet, which is made of angel silver and can turn into a whip. Equipment/accessories (things they are never without; ex: a backpack or a notepad) her phone.

INNER WORKINGS

General mood: cheerful, happy, generally in a good mood all of the time. expect when her family (or friends) are in danger. she is rather angry whenever something happens to lucifer (& chloe) Mental state (any mental illnesses?): it is a rather mixed bag, her witch heritage helps her to center herself whenever she is starting to feel overwhelmed, but being a nephilim it comes with a lot of people calling you unnatural espeically when they learn you are the LITERAL spawn of satan.

Alignment (neutral good, chaotic evil, etc): chaotic neutral Morals: most of her morals are mostly about family. being adopted by humans, charlie has learnt the values of kindness and looking after those that you love and care for. Temperament: even though charlie is an extremely loving person, she is rather closed off from the world. she feels betrayed by her mother who abandoned her when she was a baby and also by her father who didn’t bother to find her until she turned 18.

Quirks: bounces her left leg up and down a lot when she’s thinking. chews her lower lip when she’s nervous. Pet peeves: dickheads.

Strengths: loyal. she is extremely loyal. Weaknesses: however, that loyalty is usually tested and sometimes being loyal to someone isn’t always the best thing to be.

Fears: as silly as it might seem, charlie has a massive fear of heights and flying. Intelligence: charlie finished high school and also went to juilliard in new york for singing and piano.

Priorities: her father. but also her music career. Desires: oh to preform on broadway. Likes: Dislikes: arrogance, the fact that some bars don’t know how to mix drinks properly.

Vices: selfish. absolutely selfish.

RELATIONSHIPS

Friends: it is rather small group of friends, but it mostly consists of chloe, maze, linda, ella.

Family: lucifer morningstar ( biological father. ALIVE. ) | unknown mother ( MIA ) | daniel doran ( adoptive father. DECEASED. ) | sarah doran ( adoptive mother. DECEASED. )

Significant other: verse dependent, however for main verse, none at the moment.

Kids: n/a

Enemies: none

EMPLOYMENT AND EDUCATION

Jobs: unemployed atm Profession: musician.

Income (if any): none atm due to not having a job.

Furthest education: college degree. Degree (if any): bachelor of arts (performing arts)

EXTRA INFORMATION

Criminal record: none

Social media accounts (if any): instagram, twitter, facebook, snapchat (finally)

Reputation: in her small neighbourhood in montreal, she was known as the good kid - who went to church every sunday and who volunteered for every charity. that’s what happens when you have a devoted catholic family.

Skills: combat fighting, sword fighting,

Talents: piano, singing Hobbies: writing music, sometimes playing and singing with lucifer at lux.

Special abilities (if any):

her wings appeared during a rather hard moment in her life. her parents had just died, she had turned 18 and suddenly five foot long white feathered wings appeared out of her back. she can fly - but she absolutely hates it. her wings, while being flesh can be used as a shield, as well as a weapon.

Transportation: car ( 1979 Jeep CJ-5 ) Living conditions: in the penthouse at the top of lux with lucifer.

Pets: none atm

AESTHETIC

Colors associated with: dark red, pastel red, Their personal aesthetic: a pitch black sky where you can see the stars Song that suits them: WHERE THE DEVIL DON’T GO BY ELLE KING.

╳ BIO:

who would have thought that an accident would have happened when God had a plan for everything. but apparently he didn’t see his favourite son fall in love with a witch long before he fell. though it didn’t seem to be a big of a deal -- something that God let slide, until Michael brought it to the lord’s attention, when Lucifer started to become distracted from his duties. when Lucifer rebelled, Charlie was only thirteen months old, God in the end punished her as well as Lucifer, telling his son that she would be stripped of her wings (and her magic) and sent to be reborn as a human, and that he would never be able to see her again.

God kept her soul hidden away for the next 1984 years, when she was given to a woman who was trying so hard with her husband to conceive. they were good Christian people, those in their neighborhood loved very much, so she was born Charlotte Doran.

Lucifer never knew the truth as to what happened to his daughter. Michael and Gabriel made sure that their brother stayed away from Charlie as she grew up, giving her a normal childhood. But on her eighteenth birthday, a car accident took the lives of her parents. the impact of the truck was mostly on Charlie’s side, but Uriel intercepted at the last moment --- causing the truck to impact at the front of her the car instead, saving his niece.

It was then that Lucifer found Charlotte, the accident along with Uriel’s interference caused her grace to be returned her. leaving Hell to go retrieve her.

#bio.#lucifer #lucifer on netflix

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goldenbroadwaygirl · 7 years

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❝ ···┋My Message || Self-Paragraph || Coming Out Music Video || Includes Press Reactions┋··· ❞

She took a deep breath and collected herself. It has to be now or never. It took her sixteen hours to make this song. She knows it's rushed, but it has deep meanings and it represents who she is. It is what it is. Mira pulled out her phone and dialled Raven's number. It rang once before her best friend's screaming ensued:

"Mate, you're alive! You are all over the fucking media. Can you believe this shite? I'm bloody freaking out and absolutely furious that you never bothered to tell me you liked girls. I'm deeply wounded, Mira." Though she was screaming over the line, Mira could easily tell that her best friend was being supportive. If Raven were actually offended, she wouldn't be this enthusiastic, neither would she even be talking to Mira in the first place.

Mira sighed. "Rave, I know. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but to tell you the truth, I've buried this part of me... deep down. For so long. I think I actually forgot who I really was." She took another deep breath before continuing.

"I really need your help. I need the squad to gather together. I need all your help."

"Of course, whatever it is. We're here for you, babe."

"Thanks, hon."

The instructions were easy. First, gather at Jesse's apartment's rooftop parking lot. (It's all about the aesthetics, you see. Besides, that parking lot is clean af.) Second, bring some bomb ass clothes, something that will scream: I'm fierce. Third, make signs about empowering women and LGBTQ+ related slogans. Fourth and a MUST, bring a rainbow flag. Lastly, go bloody smash the fuck out of it and show them how it's done.

"This is so awesome, Mira!" Raven practically squealed as she leaped from the ledge she was standing on, and proceeded by grabbing one of the signs. "I'm totally parading this one."

Raven held up the one with the slogan that says: I'm not your babe.

Mira laughed. "Suits you." She clapped her hands before ordering everyone to gather around. "Alright, ladies, we only have Carlos on duty right now. He's the only camera man I'm able to borrow at this hour, so let's try not to give him a hard time, eh?"

"No promises!" Teased Cara, who was rocking her short platinum blonde hair.

They all smiled before Carlos held up and played Mira's track on the speaker when the girls were in position. It started out with a panning shot of Mira, Jesse and Raven looking fierce and ready to cut a man in half. The make-up was on point too, (credits goes to Cara) while their outfits make the aesthetic standards. Mira started lip-syncing to the track, making sure that she's maintaining eye contact with the camera as she sings the first verse:

❝ Can't believe all the things they say about me Tell me I've gone crazy But I am what I am So come take a look It's my world that I want to have a little pride in This is my message And my world and it's not a place I have to hide in

Carlos takes a series of pan and zoom shots of the girl's faces and the surrounding as they slowly walk their way in the parking lot. They take a cut for the second verse and the girls are all finally carrying their signs, all raising it up with passion as they march together while Carlos used a steadicam to take a tracking shot of the girls marching forward with Mira.

❝ You can't tame me, can't tame me I am what I am I don't want praise, I don't want pity And what I am needs no excuses I deal my own deck Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces This is my message

(Even if it makes others uncomfortable) (I wanna love who I am) (Even if it makes others uncomfortable) (I will love who I am)

Mira grabbed the megaphone Raven brought and started lip-syncing into it for more dramatic effect. She was feeling entirely uplifted and empowered. Her friends are here, showing their support and participating in her spontaneous coming out project. Mira couldn't ask for better friends. They ended the song with the last verse and Mira decided to shoot that scene when it's dark out. Thank goodness Raven and Jesse brought glow sticks, it absolutely looks fantastic in the dark.

❝ You can take my wings but I'm still goin' fly And even when you edit me I ain't gonna lie Yeah, keep talking and I'mma keep writing songs I am what I am I don't want praise, I don't want pity So come take a look It's my world that I want to have a little pride in This is my message And my world and it's not a place I have to hide in

(Even if it makes others uncomfortable) (I wanna love who I am) (Even if it makes others uncomfortable) (I will love who I am)

It took three hours to edit the whole music video. It was rushed, just like the song, but it was spontaneously gratifying. It is what it is.

Mira patiently awaits as the last seconds of processing reached to completion. It's finally out there. She's finally free.

MEDIA RESPONSE:

#coming out

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songsofhartbig-blog · 7 years

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all from the aesthetic ask list (:

BLESS YOUR SOUL I LOVE THESE QUESTIONS

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself? - about an hour ago, accompanying myself on guitar! Toying with the idea of a cover album ;)

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? - This one is gonna be really sad but I would wanna know what song was playing when my best friend got into a car accident

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life? - That’s a really tough one, honestly. Probably just making it to this point.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise? - The first one that came to mind when I read this is one of my favorite ones with my best friend. We were at a house party back in May, quite drunk, having a good time. We were socializing with different people for a few minutes, and suddenly I hear her yelling for me, and when we find each other, all she does is hold up a box of the card game Uno and goes, “FUCKING PLAY UNO WITH ME!!” (Uno was like one of our things because we’re dumb). So, of course, I was like “HELL FUCKIN YEAH!!” Drunk Uno at a house party, and we got a pretty big game going, but people started losing interest so it ended up just being me and her playing for a few more minutes. So “the only ones at the house party playing Uno” became a joke and one of my favorite stories/memories :)

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? - I feel like I would, but I honestly couldn’t answer what I would change. This is one of those situations where it’d be difficult to choose until you’re truly in the situation.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things? - Of course! I haven’t gotten as far as to really rank anything, but the top ones would probably be to travel to so many different states/countries, skydive (basic but true), and zipline!

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail. - The first person that came to mind when I read this one is a certain someone. I won’t specifically say their relationship to me, but let’s just say we’re…close. Their soul radiates sunshine; constantly brightening people’s days, whether they intend to or not. It just comes natural. By far one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, this person does not have a mean bone in their body. They’re funny in such a unique way, and it works for them, and always has me cracking up. So supportive in everything - for example I was really drunk one night and I was texting this person and told them I was gonna sit down and write a movie, and their response? “Write that movie, I’ll help if you need me to!” Not only things like that, but has been helping me with big life decisions too. Their smile can light up the darkest night, their eyes are big and beautiful and anyone could stare into them for hours. Their hugs could melt a frozen heart. I’m so lucky to know them.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood? - Definitely. I have a very loving family that have provided and still provide the best they can for me, while instilling good values and morals in me

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person? - I don’t think it was very long ago, maybe like 3 weeks ago?

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them. - The person I described in the pantone question. The description of them should be a good explanation as to why :)

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them? - I’ve never done it before but who’s to say it won’t happen at some point

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you? - Funny enough, it was with the person I described in the pantone question, it was on New Years Eve (I’m always up at 3 AM but no one else usually is to talk to), and I was in bed, VERY plastered, going through twitter, and the person texts me out of nowhere (different quotes are the multiple texts): “luuuvvv uuuu” “so much” “i hope you had a good night” “you honestly made mine” “happy new year❤️” and then for like half an hour we drunkenly continued talking about how much we love each other and how lucky we are to be in each other’s lives. It was quite cute.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom? - That’s so much pressure. I honestly can’t even answer that.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes? - BEAUTIFUL. RESPECT AND APPRECIATE BROWN EYES. FROM THE GOLDEN BROWNS TO THE DARK BROWNS.

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally. - “It’s not the end, I’ll see your face again” - a line from one of my favorite songs of all time, and a nice reminder that my best friend’s passing wasn’t the full end, and I’ll see her again someday.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far? - U ok?

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars? - I know I would start with buying a lot of records and clothes and travel a lot because I have low impulse control

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way? - I definitely am. I think of it as like a blessing and a curse, sometimes. It’s good to be forgiving and let bygones be bygones but I’ve definitely been guilty of forgiving people who didn’t deserve my forgiveness.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self. - It’s 2 AM so we’re gonna shorten this to like a few words: you’re gonna regret that.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel? - punk definitely, even though I’m hardly even punk lol

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain. - I love tattoos! I have two and definitely want more, and I really like them because they tell a story in at least a small way. Significant tattoos tell a story, and even ones that don’t necessarily have meanings have a story - the person likes that design enough to put it on their skin. Piercings I have no problem with. I don’t personally have any but who am I to judge people who have them? They’re expressing themselves.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not? - Not at all, only foundation to cover up my blemishes and such. I don’t wear a lot of makeup bc I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m constantly running late already, so adding a makeup routine to that would just be…bad

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. - I’m gonna be 100% honest: One Direction really effected my life in some great ways. Not only do I love their music, and they’re some good lookin boys, but the common likeness to them is the reason I have some of the friends that I do, and the reason I’m very close to some of my best friends.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them. - BE NICE TO PEOPLE, IT’S NOT THAT HARD.

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel. - I’ve been to Justin Bieber (I was 11), Warped Tour twice, We The Kings, All Time Low twice, One Direction twice, 5 Seconds of Summer twice, Ed Sheeran, Panic At The Disco, and Bo Burnham (Im counting that as a concert cause he does music). They all made me feel a lot of different things, but to keep it short and sweet since it’s late and Im answering every question; I remember feeling pure joy and euphoria during all of them.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say? - Well, of course I would want a letter from my passed on best friend, saying everything she’d want to get off her chest. But if it has to be someone living, I don’t even know. There’s a lot of people in the world that I wanna hear a lot of things from.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised? - I have a desk, and it’s pretty organized, only because the only things on it are a lamp, my laptop, wallet, car keys, alarm clock, bracelets, and glasses

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine? - get in pajamas, wash my face, brush my teeth, slump out. Nothing very amazing lmao

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? - my questionable actions lol

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? - funny that this is a question because I’ve been debating doing something new. Probably just a tad bit lighter and shorter. Nothing crazy for now

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do? - Again, so many people to choose from. Too many, and I’m tired (sorry I have a tendency to get boring)

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them. - 1) my best friend back. Probably could’ve guessed that one. 2) happiness and success for everyone 3) the return of the original That’s So Raven

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up. - honestly probably this past year. I was broke so I couldn’t buy a costume, but I was going to a Halloween party so I needed to throw one together. Borrowed one of my grandpa’s hawaiian shirts, threw on a baseball hat, wore socks and sandals, put a camera around my neck, and BAM. Tourist.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? - Somehow, at least that I can remember, I’m pretty good at not doing *very* terrible things when I’m drunk/high/both. Probably the worst was when cops were at a house party and we were all running, I saw half a bottle of Bacardi on the table I was running past so drunk me took it LMAO

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? - kill someone

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why? - Probably only see one person, because there’s too much good music to be limited to one song. The person? I’ll get back to you on that one.

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love. - yes, but it was with someone that didn’t love me back. And as much as that hurt, it was kind of nice knowing I can feel emotions - like when I got butterflies when I saw them, or when I smiled so big because their name popped up on my phone.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? - The only reason I wouldn’t rock really really short hair is because I already hate how I look with my hair in a ponytail, so I can’t imagine how much I’d hate super short hair on myself. But other than that, hell yeah

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone? - we actually don’t have a Starbucks where I am (closest one is like 30-45 minutes away in a different city), so I’m gonna give you my Dunkin Donuts order: caramel latte, hot when it’s cold out, iced when it’s warmer out. Would definitely trust my neighbor to order it for me because we go to Dunkin together all the time :)

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now? - The people in it

Thank you, kind anon, for letting me ramble about myself for entirely too long! Very much appreciated, love you!! :)))

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