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takuyakistall · 3 years

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threads that connect us

At first, you had no idea what everyone around you kept on saying. The threads that connect everybody together, it took your breath away the first time you saw it. A beautiful sight that reminded you that no one is truly alone on this earth. What’s a better way to enjoy it than letting someone you love witness it with you?

The ability to be able to see the things no normal people would normally see wasn’t an ability you possessed from birth. Your family came from a long line of magicians blessed with the Tailor’s Eye. Despite what that name implies, the only tailor from your family lineage stretched back to a few hundred years ago who was said to be the very reason why they had the special sight in their possession. It was said that she used to sew until her fingers bled. A certain customer that came across her was so taken by the clothes she made, touched by her dedication and skill. So he blessed her with the ability to see things the naked human eye cannot.

Ever since then, the ability was passed down from generation to generation to the firstborn of every family. It was not something they possessed from birth, it was something they get after reaching a certain age. Those who got hold of it had said the pain that came with it was excruciating as it felt as if their eyes were being burned until it turned into a different colour. You were no exception. And as the name implies, it was only one eye that shall turn into a different colour—people often thought your family just had very strong genes with the way every firstborn had heterochromia.

After you had reached a certain age, your vision suddenly became blurry and you already collapsed from the pain as you put a hand over your eyes, hoping to soothe the pain that came with the so-called blessing. The moment you opened your eyes, a whole new world was before you—everything you had known about the Tailor’s Eye up to this point was quickly washed away after experiencing it yourself. When your mother said it would reveal things you normally wouldn’t see, you thought it had something to do with the supernatural.

Much to your surprise, it had nothing to do with ghosts or anything of the sort. What you saw was far different from the things you imagined. Threads—fitting for a child of a family with a history of becoming great tailors. Never in your wildest dreams have you thought that you would see threads. Threads that connect people, whether it be the red thread that told you who was fated together or the nearly invisible thread that told you about friends who have yet to meet.

It was overwhelming at first, the sight of so many threads at once nearly made you lose your head as you figured out which was which. So many threads tangled together it was nearly impossible for you to tell which was which, was this really a blessing?

Though with time, you have learned to appreciate it as you were going to have to live with it now. Seeing thousands of those strings connecting people together was something you’ve come to love with your heart, a beautiful sight that constantly reminded you that no one was truly alone on this earth no matter what you think. There was not a single person that did not have a thread attached to them, loneliness is never eternal.

Your job, as someone who possesses this power, is to make sure that both ends of the thread on the brink of snapping meet in the end. In this world, there are countless threads that are about to snap as well. Whether it be because of fate or interference from an outsider not meant to get involved, though not always, there are special cases wherein you have to step in to ensure the fate of certain people don’t get into an intangible mess.

Upon entering NRC, the first thing you did was explore where the threads lead you. It was rare, but there are times where those who possess this special sight can see their own strings. A nearly invisible thread that made your heart race, a friend you haven't met yet. To say you were excited was an understatement, that string led to none other than a first year.

“What’s your name?” You asked, curiosity sparkling in your eyes as you saw the countless threads attached to him. No red in sight, you began to grow more interested. His skin looked like fine porcelain, his eyes shined brightly like sapphires and his hair of the colour lavender—he looked like a doll made by the finest dollmaker.

“Epel Felmier, yours?” His round and inquiring eyes made you smile wider, his voice was as beautiful as you thought it would be. You stretched your hand towards him and shot him a grin with the intent to make a good impression, you were fated to be connected to each other after all. You told him your name and shortly after, he took your hand in his and shook it. It was the start of your story with him.

With time, you came to know the multiple sides to him. You came to love him for the way he is with your heart, though there was something that scared you from the bottom of your heart. Epel had no red thread attached to him whatsoever, it was as if the world was telling you that he was not your fated to be. You understood the words of your elders when they said that those eyes could easily become a curse under certain circumstances; falling in love was one of them.

If the one you fell in love with had a red string attached to someone else who wasn’t you, wouldn’t that become unbearable? Epel had none, that could only mean one thing to you. He wasn’t going to fall for anyone. Not for you, not for anyone, fate had decided to let him be that way. You thought it was impossible and yet, he was living proof of otherwise. It was futile to try and deny it.

As time passed by, you came to hate seeing such threads in your field of vision. You cursed it, it was no blessing to you as it burdened you with the weight of knowing Epel will never be truly yours. A cruel fate that you wished would change… But your feelings for the boy remained unchanging. The last bit of irrationality you held told you that it wouldn’t be bad to remain friends with him when it tore your heart to bits during your every waking moment.

It wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t so bad, right? Convincing yourself that was a difficult task.

“Do you know how to sew?” You asked him, holding up a thread and needle.

“A little bit, my grandmother taught me the basics at least.” You handed him the thread and needle, and without another word, he grabbed a white piece of fabric and started sewing to show you his basic skill set.

“My family is famous for being skilled craftsmen. My grandfather used to tell me that life is like a finished piece of embroidery, one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out right,” you trailed off. “But I never really liked sewing, you know?”

Maybe it was because Epel was too focused on his current task but his only reply was an offhand comment asking you why. You decided to change the subject after a quick look at him, you felt your heart beat faster.

“Hey, do you wanna see the threads that connect everyone together? You know, the thing they tell children in legends.” You heard him let out a scoff, he thought you were being ridiculous. You pouted, “What’s with that reaction, I’m serious!”

“As if we can see it. We might have magic but that sort of thing is impossible to see—does it even exist in the first place?”

“It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to see it.” With your magic pen in hand, you utter out a spell and before Epel could fully comprehend what was happening around him, a burst of colours invaded his vision without any prior warning as countless threads suddenly appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

No words left his lips as he felt as if his breath was being taken away by the overwhelming sight. He frantically looked towards your direction and for a split second, he swore he saw a glint of red light coming from one of the many threads attached to you—the thread that was also attached to him. Not long after a few seconds, the vision suddenly disappeared and everything was back to normal.

Epel stood up and approached you, urgency present in everything he does. “What the hell was that!?”

“Haha! It looks like I startled you,” you laughed.

“Damn right I was!”

“Don’t worry, I just exchanged our vision for a few seconds so you could experience the world through my eyes. I must say, having a normal sight like yours felt very foreign to me now that my ‘normal’ is different.”

“You live like this?” He was beyond baffled, “you should’ve given me a warning beforehand.”

You took a step closer to him, tilting your head slightly. Epel’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“I thought my previous question was sufficient. But enough of that! How was it?”

“I… have a lot of questions, of course. But, for now, does the red string of fate exist in your world too?”

“Yup! Why do you ask?” The romantic legend about the red string of fate, those at the opposite ends are supposed to be soulmates. “I didn’t know you were into romantic stuff like that, Epel.”

“It’s nothing much…” He covered his mouth with his hand, the realization suddenly dawning on him. That sight he saw earlier… wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him, right?

#twisted wonderland epel #epel felmier #twst epel #epel felmier x reader #epel x reader #this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy HJASHHAS #twst writing #my writing #twst x reader #unedited too (skull emoji) have my raw rot

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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Crave Quote Rp Meme

“He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.”

“I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.”

“Everyone answers to me…eventually.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game.”

“Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.”

“It tugs at something deep inside me, makes me wonder, when I never wonder. Makes me want, when I never want.”

“There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.”

“If You Can’t Live Without Me, Why Aren’t You Dead Yet?”

“I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.”

“It’s written all over his face—he would disintegrate anyone—everyone—if it means saving me. He would literally set fire to the world.”

“Actions have consequences. Mistakes get made. Hearts get broken.”

“If You’re Not Living on the Edge, You’re Taking Up Too Much Space”

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“We needed each other. We were both in pain, and we filled an emptiness we didn’t know how to fill on our own.”

“Have you ever wanted something so much that you were afraid to take it?Like it’s right there, waiting for you to just reach out and grab it, but you’re so terrified of what will happen when you lose it that you never make the reach?”

“Landing Is Just Throwing Yourself at the Ground and Hoping You Don’t Miss

“Indescribable. Unfathomable. Delicious.”

“This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she’s up way past her bedtime, but she just can’t put the story down.”

“Not when the last time he was happy, he was plotting a hostile takeover of half the paranormal world.”

“You wound me. It was at least three-quarters.”

“… falling over the edge of the world together.”

“Always, baby. Whatever you need.”

“But now, as I stand here, surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I finally understand what it means to rule with compassion. With dignity. With love.”

“Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn’t have any kind of vested interest…sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Some Days Life’s a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It’s Just the Pits.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters”

“I’ve read everything on my Kindle,”

“It is time to go home, my love.”

“You wear reckless like French women wear lipstick. Subtle some days, red hot on other, but always, always, always essential.”

“And the villain fades away into obscurity, never to be seen or heard from again…”

“A Tempest rising, without fail.”

“The vampire hat is a really nice touch.”

“I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.”

“We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.”

“He’s got the manners of a rabid polar bear”

“Words absolutely no normal person has ever wanted to hear,”

“I thought a stake through the heart is what killed vampires, not—”

“I Like Standing on My Own Two Feet, but Getting Swept Off Them Feels Surprisingly Good, Too”

“You’re more than you think you are,”

“But being able to fool people into thinking you have character isn’t the same as actually having character.”

“When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school? Gross. And so not happening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t imagine what world he’s talking about, considering I’m currently living in the middle of a fantasy novel.”

“Biggest fear: Ending up alone because I’ll always love the wrong person. Is that too deep? How about “the ocean.” We have no idea what’s down there. I don’t trust that shit.”

“When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do. “

“Books are fascinating and fun.”

“it would, which, in my mind, proves the theory that you hold on until the other person pulls away because you never know what they’re going through and if they need the comfort.”

“Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.”

#open meme #roleplay meme #ask meme #rp meme #memes #ask prompt #rp ask meme #rp ask blog #ask #crave #booklr #book rp meme #book rp #open to anybody #open RP #open to all #open to anyone

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spectrumed · 3 years

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7. identity

The aesthetic of suffering, the allure of victimhood, it’s important to acknowledge that to many people, the idea of struggling with mental illness is hot. A common trope in teen dramas is the existence of the sexy bad boy haunted by demons of depression or addiction or some other psychological malady. Women with mental illness tend to be sexualised, less, but then again, women are most typically always sexualised, no matter the state of their mental health. But it’s not just a case of some people finding mental illness to be attractive in others, many see mental illness in themselves as something to take pride in, to celebrate and nurture. To seek out a diagnosis, to infiltrate communities that exist to provide support to those in need, and to declare themselves as being special. Fakers, you could call them. Yes, we’re going to be entering into dangerous grounds here, talking about a potentially incendiary topic that might feed the flames of controversy, but it’s a topic worth discussing. Self-diagnosis. Is self-diagnosis valid or not? Should one self-diagnose? Is it ableism to be against self-diagnosis? Is it ableism to be for self-diagnosis? Is it ableism itself ableist? I don’t know, sweetheart, you are asking a whole bunch of questions and I am hungover… But let’s go on rambling about what it means to be labelled neurodivergent.

Do you have an identity? Do you root for a particular sports team? Do you like a particular kind of music? Do you dance a lot? Are you a dancer? What are you? Simply stating that you’re just “a human” probably won’t do. Sure, it’s correct, but I am also a human, and we could be two very different kinds of people. Your identity should be that certain something that makes you stand apart from the rest, that distinguishes you from the squirming mass of flesh that is the whole of humanity. There are plenty of things about you that do figure in your identity, even though you wish it didn’t. You’re black, you don’t wish to always be “that black guy over there,” but you’ve come to realise that’s just how society views you. Maybe you are a transwoman, and you very eagerly want your friend to stop introducing you as her “trans bestie.” You’re just a woman, you don’t need her to keep labelling you as trans, even though that's what you are. There are many ways we can change our identity through direct personal action. Maybe you could start wearing a hat, and be known as “that hat guy” to the people you work with. Maybe you could embrace a punk aesthetic, looking like young Johnny Rotten stepped into a time machine and got transported to the current day. Actions like these can have a big or small impact on how others see you, but it feels good to be able to make a decision like that and get a response. This is me, this is what I am. I’m the guy who wears bow-ties, don’t I look cool? If only shaping your sense of self always came down to personal decisions like that. You don’t always have a choice.

I’ve lately been watching some Conan O’Brien (American TV talk show host who’s recently decided not to be a TV talk show host) clips. I am sure I don’t need to explain who Conan O’Brien is to my readers, but just in case this is being read by aliens ten-thousand years from now, what I can tell you is that Conan O’Brien is well known for being freakishly tall. Like, really tall. He’s an elongated leprechaun. He’s turned being tall into one of his trademarks. Like many comedians, he’s come to use his corporeal form as a source for levity and fun. While, naturally, the man did not choose to grow as tall as he did, he’s come around to use his height not as a hindrance to success, but rather as an asset. He’s “that tall irish guy on the TV,” and he’s been that person for nearly thirty years. It pays to have some distinguishing feature if you wish to be distinguished. Mr. Joe Average might be perfectly funny and charming, but being an average-looking guy can be wholly detrimental in making a career for yourself as a funnyman. At least get yourself some weird voice, or something. Maybe pretend to be some foreigner and put on a fake accent. As a comedian your job is to be exploited, you wish to be made into a commodity to be sold. People will want to watch your special because of that funny face you pull in the thumbnail. To be different can be financially lucrative.

What’s the best approach in turning something that could be perceived as an abnormal feature into something that is beneficial to you? To make jokes about it? Certainly, if I were to meet a man with a heavily scarred face, I feel there’d likely be a tension between me and him that could be dispelled if that man with the heavily scarred face made some little joke about his appearance, some little quip. “I’m sorry, I cut myself shaving this morning,” would do. The person isn’t obliged to justify his existence to me, he does not have to go out of his way to make me feel less uncomfortable. I am the one in the wrong, certainly. I shouldn’t look at a person with a heavily scarred face and feel uncomfortable, that’s me letting prejudices get in the way, I know that. But, it is what it is. If you’re looking for a practical solution, telling people to simply get over themselves and learn to not be so awkward around folks with physical deformities won’t do. It may be the right thing, but it’s not going to happen any time soon. I am sure that the man with the heavily scarred face isn’t interested in being defined by his heavily scarred face. He's probably sick and tired of that little joke, and wish he didn’t have to make it. But it does the job. Suddenly, you are not looking at something to be feared, the other, you are looking at a person, and someone with a sense of humour. The importance of humour in eradicating stigma, making it possible for the ostracised to enter in society, cannot be understated. Through humour, you can convince most everyone that you are someone worthy of inclusion, because… well, you’re just a funny guy, who doesn’t wanna hang out with you?

For those who have grown up not feeling normal, worrying that there are aspects of your character that others may perceive as unwanted, the yearning to be liked can at times become excruciating. I like to consider myself a funny person, while this blog isn’t intended to be a humorous one, occasionally small little jokes will squirm their way to the top, like worms coming up to the surface during a rainstorm. I am also a cartoonist, and produce a new cartoon every other day. My humour isn’t universal, no good humour ever is universal, but it’s done good in getting some folks to like me. Some people want to be admired, some people want to be feared. I only want to be liked. The one thing I absolutely do not want to be is pitied. I don’t want your pity, I fear your pity.

You’re probably familiar with The Sims, right? It’s a life simulation game, where you control a little digital human, known as a sim, and try to help them make the right decision through life. Each sim has a number of meters that measures their current needs. Hunger, hygiene, energy, if they need to urinate or defecate (though, frankly, the distinction between the two isn’t made in the game, so one can assume that sims are like birds and have just one cloaca that does both,) and so on. One of these meters is for social activities. If a sim hasn’t been social in a while, they go nutty. What’s interesting here, the reason why I bring it up, is that in real life, though we all (to a lesser or greater degree) crave to socialise with others, what kind of socialising you do is of a very big importance. There are a myriad of ways in which one can be social, and depending on your needs at the time, one kind of socialising may not do, whereas another kind of socialising may be just what you need. Do you want to hang out with your pals, cracking jokes and maybe drinking a couple of beers? Do you want to have a serious conversation with your partner about what you wish to accomplish together? Do you want to play with your dog? These different social situations scratch different parts of your mind, and you can’t just substitute one for the other and think that’s all alright. A person may have tonnes of friends, lots of buddies to spend their time with, but they may still desperately be yearning for another kind of social interaction, one that none of their friends can deliver. The human need for company is more complex than how it is depicted in The Sims… which, to be fair, probably shocks nobody. The Sims doesn’t pretend that it’s some highly realistic simulation of real life, it’s a game meant to be played for fun. But what’s important here is the fact that while humans do have a need to be social, how that need is fed changes dramatically on the person, and their conditions. Socialising that may bring comfort to one person, may bring discomfort to another person.

I don’t want you to pity me. I may list my diagnoses, I may tell you of the difficulties that I face in life, but I do not want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to be entertained reading this, I don’t want to make you weep thinking about how cruel life can be. I don’t want you thinking I’m special, or different, because of my diagnoses. I want you to think I’m special and different because of my writing. Sure, this blog is about living with autism spectrum disorder, but I don’t want you reading this blog just because it’s about autism spectrum disorder. I want you to read this because, while it is about a diagnosis you are interested in learning more about, you also find what I write to be well-written and at times, mildly humorous. This blog isn’t my rabid manifesto detailing all the ways my life sucks, and what must be done by society to appease me. Nah, I’m doing relatively fine, don’t feel bad for me, please. I don’t want that kind of attention. I do want attention, I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t have an ego, or that I don’t get pleased seeing people like the things I put out there. I do have a social need, it’s just that being pitied does not do it for me. It doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel sad. It really makes me feel mad.

We’re finally getting around to the topic I promised I would discuss. Self-diagnosis. A principal concern people have with self-diagnosis is that people only self-diagnose in order to receive pity from others. The difference between someone like me, who’s got a proper official diagnosis, and someone who is self-diagnosed, is that I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to fetishise my diagnosis, this thing about me that I did not choose to be. I don’t want special favours just because of my diagnosis, I don’t want to be known as “that cartoonist with autism.” I am autistic, I’ve come to accept that, but I don’t want anyone to introduce me as “their friend who’s on the spectrum.” Some may accuse me of self-loathing, treating being autistic like some bad thing that I am ashamed of. But that’s not it. After all, I did start this blog to discuss what it is like. I just don’t want to be defined by this certain something that lies outside of my control. I don’t want it to be my “thing.” I don’t mind being referred to as a hairy cartoonist, because I am pretty hairy. I don’t want to cut my hair any time soon (especially with this plague going around.) No-one would pity me just because I am hairy. At most they may regard me as a good-for-nothing beatnik, and I’m okay with that. Ideally, I still want to be liked, but anything is better than being pitied. To be pitied is to be robbed of your own agency, your own potential. Sure, it gets you that attention you may be craving, but at the cost of infantilization. Autistic people often struggle with being infantilized by society, to the point where some folks don’t even realise that there are autistic grown-ups in the world. Anyone who would voluntarily seek out a diagnosis just to be pitied, well… it doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me, quite frankly, feel demoralised.

But not all people self-diagnose just to get pity from others, right? For some it’s genuinely their only option, likely living in a barely-functioning country like the United States where receiving psychiatric care is expensive and it’s just not something they can afford. It’s unfair of me to phrase self-diagnosing as just a quest to receive pity, it’s way more complicated than that. And yes, I’d have to agree. To know all the reasons why a person may self-diagnose, you have to go personally ask them. Even if it is possible to highlight a few certain trends, things that they all have in common, it’s bound to be impossible to make this one sweeping generalisation to explain everything. All I am saying is that there absolutely are those people who do self-diagnose with the explicit goal of getting pitied. Whether they are knowingly faking their condition or not, to them, being pigeonholed as a person with autism isn’t at all a negative. It’s their identity. It is how they have chosen to let the world see them. They made a choice. They chose this label. This is why many people who have official diagnoses are sceptical of those who've only got a self-diagnosis. Whether your self-diagnosis is accurate or not, in the end, you chose to identify yourself with it. You made a decision, oblivious of the fact that many people don’t get to make that kind of a decision, and they may bear resentment for how you are turning something they’ve faced ostracization for, into what is potentially on the same level as listening to a certain kind of music, or being a supporter of a sports team. A diagnosis is not something you should choose to have.

There are other things to say about self-diagnosis. First of all, it can be dangerous. Some of the diagnoses I’ve seen people give themselves are really serious, things like personality disorders or psychosis. Psychiatrists are very careful when putting these kinds of labels on people, knowing the harm that it can do. A diagnosis is meant to only be given after careful deliberation, and after long conversations with the patient. Psychiatrists know that reducing a person to a set of symptoms can have detrimental effects to that person’s sense of self. If you’re trying to cling on to a diagnosis, seeing it as a major part of your identity, then that may hamper any attempts you make to become a better person, to improve your mental health. You will feel as if you need to correspond to the exact specifications of the disorder, and you will not allow yourself to grow naturally as a complicated human being, a human being whose internal life is far too vast to be fully rounded up with some psychiatric jargon. There are plenty of things about me that do not line up with the diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, and guess what, that’s quite good actually. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have autism, I very much do, but I realise that as a person, I am more than just my diagnosis. The diagnosis does not define me, I define the diagnosis. If you self-diagnose, do you comprehend all that you are getting yourself into? Are you going to find yourself in psychological traps that will only serve to worsen your mental health? It’s hard to look at yourself objectively, you could easily be misrepresenting yourself inside your own mind. You may effectively be locking parts of yourself away, making it so you are no longer able to see the full you. You will no longer be all there, you will be segmented in favour of upholding the defining marks of a diagnosis that doesn’t suit you.

Instead of self-diagnosing, try doing a self-assessment. Keep in mind that, while you may have this diagnosis, it’s too early to say for sure. You’re going to need somebody else’s input. You’ll need to sit with it for a while to see if it sticks. Keep an open mind, realise that there’s no easy way to explain exactly who you are, or what you are like. It’s very possible that you will come to realise that you are in fact autistic, or have whatever other diagnosis you may suspect describes you. I, after all, came to the conclusion that I was autistic before I got the diagnosis (though, I was going to therapy at that point, and I was on the way to undergo a neuropsychiatric evaluation.) It’s not bad to try and get to understand yourself, don’t come out of this thinking that self-reflection is only possible with a psychiatrist looming over you, telling you how to think about things. We all need to come to certain conclusions over how we self-identify, and sometimes you need to take mental leaps to explain certain things. Just don’t feel as if your best option is to put a label on yourself that can potentially negatively affect your psychological well-being. If you are truly searching for understanding, if your goal is to find out more about yourself, you should act with caution and concern for what you are doing. If all you are looking for is to have people pity you, then… well… I don’t know what to say, really…

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health #diagnosis

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star-anise · 4 years

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Oh dear, I’m sorry to bother you, but I would like to ask for your advice on something related to several of your top posts- Are there any cues that one would be able to observe within themselves that could help with a diagnosis of, well, being gifted? I’ve been told as such my entire life, but due to the number of students that are superior to me, I’ve come to doubt what was previously thought of me; I fear I might become obsolete.

I feel the need to answer a different question than the one you’ve asked. I think it will still help. I’m going to use IQ here, for all that it’s an intensely flawed measure, because it’s well-researched and we can do math with it.

“Giftedness”, as most school systems define it, is more than two standard deviations (SDs) above the norm. Because of how bell curves work, that’s approximately the top 2% of intelligence. The higher intelligence goes, the rarer. Which is to say if people are randomly distributed, the odds are that every 50 people will produce 1 person 2 SDs above the norm. However, the higher you go up, the rarer it gets. Above 3 SDs is 0.01%, which is 1 in every ten thousand. Above 4 SDs is 1 in every thirty thousand. You would need to comb a randomly-populated city of a million people before you could come up with enough people to fill a classroom of 30 people–and they would be every age, from infancy to centennarian.

Which is to say: The smarter you are, the less likely you are to ever meet anyone else as smart as you when you’re young. This means that you’re very likely to define “being smart” as “always being the smartest person in the room”. And if your peers treat you as weird and your teachers fixate on your intelligence, you may come to associate “being smart” as “my entire reason for having worth in this world.”

So as long as you keep seeking higher education and greater challenge–as long as you keep going towards those magnets that draw other people of high intelligence–the odds slowly increase that someday, you’ll meet people as smart as you, if not smarter.

And for a lot of us there’s a really rude shock where suddenly we’re not the smartest person in the room, and the internal dominos start to fall: If I’m not the smartest, am I even smart? If I’m not smart, do I even have a use anymore? What do I even have to offer the world now that I’m stupid???

I hit that level in high school, when I sought out an IB school and met Matt, who would be my best friend for the next three years. Matt hit that level when he went to university to study physics, and realized he was the least-intelligent person in a professor’s lab. Occasionally I’ll meet people who appear not to have had that experience yet–who are either awkwardly humble about it, or deeply arrogant. For some of them, I am the first person they have ever met who’s smarter than them, and they generally either crumble into self-hatred and self-doubt, or they light up and go, “Oh my god! You’re like me!”

It is very definitely possible to remind yourself that you are still smart, still capable, and still worthwhile. But I would encourage you to use this as an opportunity to also branch out.

Most other kids, when they were very young, hit challenges they couldn’t master–and they learned how to feel good about themselves anyway. They might not have been the smartest, they reasoned, but at least… they made their friends laugh. They coloured pictures in a way that satisfied them. They tried very hard. They loved dancing to music. They liked to feed the family pet. They could define themselves by many different experiences and relationships, and find sources of self-confidence and pleasure that had nothing to do with school or intelligence.

If you’re using words like “obsolete”, it sounds like you didn’t get that. You missed out on the opportunity to get to define yourself as having worth and function in a variety of ways; to be complete and self-justified just for being alive.

This is a really important thing. It’s essential to a world of human rights. We’ve tried worlds where people had to justify their existence–you have to be this hardworking to deserve medical care; you have to be this virtuous to deserve peace and happiness; you have to be this intelligent to be allowed to propagate your genes. And overwhelmingly? They result in human misery. To allow a world where you can be deemed “obsolete” and lose all right to community, happiness, self-worth, or meaningful work, is to allow a world where suffering is the default state. And, well–some people are, but I am not okay with that.

So I am accordingly not okay with the amount of pain, isolation, and self-hatred you’ve lived with. I think that no matter how smart you were or weren’t, you should have been treated as worthwhile and lovable regardless of you performance. I think you should always have had friends who understood you and didn’t think you were weird. I think you should have been given chances to try something you didn’t completely have the abilities to master, and been able to fail at it and learn to be okay with failure, in a way that reinforced that you were fundamentally good, lovable, and capable of doing good and worthwhile things.

It is a lot harder to go back and do that work now that you’re an adult. The same way it’s harder to learn a second language for a first time as an adult than as a six-year-old, it’s a lot harder to learn these emotional skills. Your brain’s emotional systems are hugely dominated by the formative experiences you had as a child. It might take pain, doubt, questioning, outside help, finding a counsellor who works with Gifted adults, or trying medical treatment for depression or anxiety to get there.

Anyway, to answer your original question: It can be really grounding to get out of the rarified air of academia and get in touch with adults who didn’t have to score incredibly well on tests to be there. If you go to something not selected for academic prowess–a general adult exercise class, or knitting group, or community group, or bowling league–you’ll see the incredible diversity of intellects, personalities, and life experiences. You might meet people as smart as you, who have great careers and blow off steam through this recreation; smart people whose life has led them down a non-academic path; people of normal intelligence, who nonetheless have robust lives and interests and concerns and are a lot less excruciating to talk to than carefully age-matched peers of your childhood; and people with cognitive impairments or developmental delays that mean they need special accommodation to be able to happily live, but do nonetheless manage it.

In short: Get out of your own head, because there are very few reference points, and find yourself in a wider social matrix that isn’t rigidly sorted by test score.

I was also immeasurably helped as a teenager by joining a nerdy hobby (medieval re-enactment) full of Gifted adults who would sit around the fire and tell me the unexpected stories of their lives (”I was a smart kid, but then in uni I discovered that being a graduate student in chemistry is awful, so I became a teacher. Then I met my wife and fell in love, so I moved to Canada to be with her, and Canada won’t accept my teaching license and I don’t want to go back to school and be poor. So now I’m the assistant manager of a bookstore”). These served as a powerful antidote to the message that if I wasn’t on a “30 Under 30″ list of blazing comets taking the world by storm, I was a complete failure.

I can’t give you my own experiences, but I can suggest some places to look for those antidotes: Late Bloomers by Rich Karlgaard, What Should I Do With My Life? by Po Bronson, and The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.

#staranise original #former gifted child anonymous #turntechhgodhead

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booksoanahasread · 4 years

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Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare

People can make fun of me all they want for reading young adult novels, but I don’t understand how they can be so judgmental when these books are phenomenal. Clockwork Princess is a perfect example, the whole series is proof.

I keep having to stop myself from shedding tears while writing this review. This book was an emotional rollercoaster. So many people died, or were injured, or just lost. The author has this way of writing loss and grief that the reader can perfectly comprehend what each character is going through.

The novel broke my heart and shattered it into thousands of pieces. How can you get over a series? You can’t, not truly. When you get so attached to the characters and fall in love with them, there is nothing that can stop you from the agony of leaving them all behind. You can’t get back to your normal life or any semblance of it when you are still left wondering what happened to the characters. The people who don’t read may never understand this, but the pain of finishing a beloved series is great, losing your favourite characters is horrendous, and finally closing the last book of the series is excruciating.

What can an avid reader do to avoid this sort of pain? Nothing. It may hurt like hell, but to love and to lose is better than to never love at all. Now I should probably finish this monologue about series and great books and get to expressing my adoration for this novel.

The characters are phenomenal, as I have stated in my reviews for the previous books, but in this novel, they are particularly perfect. Each secondary character was crafted with such attention to detail and such love that you could tell that the author knew exactly what she was doing.

Tessa Gray, a strong character, is yet again caught between Will and Jem, but this time it is different. She knows Jem will die soon and she loves him just the same. Her attitude both toward Will and Jem was one of complete love and care. She always tried to make things right between the three of them, she clearly would have given her life up for the other two to live happily ever after.

William Herondale, damn I used to despise him. I think he is an incredibly altruistic person who would do anything to keep his loved ones happy and healthy and safe. He is such a good person and his death in the epilogue made me cry so much. He had his loved ones there up until the very end. I also cried when he felt the parabatai rune disappear when he thought Jem had died. It was clear that Will was in so much pain, it was hard to read.

James Carstairs never fails to surprise me. He was always sensitive and loving, he always encouraged people when he had the chance and he was wise beyond his years. His farewell to Will when he was on his deathbed was heartbreaking and extremely touching. There was nothing that the two of them couldn’t go through together. His changing into a Silent Brother was a shock, I had not expected that in any way, shape or form.

Sophie and Gideon were so sweet together, even when he called for scones just to have a reason to see Sophie. Her ascension as a Shadowhunter was heartwarming and a perfect reprieve from all the pain in the previous pages. The two were a duo that were made for each other in so many ways and seeing them together was inspiring.

Cecily is headstrong and confident. She knows what she wants and how she wants it. Her journey over the course of this novel was a true growing up story. She chose to become a Shadowhunter and to live a dangerous life that gave her a reason to live. She is admirable and her fighting skills are fantastic. Her jumping on the top of the huge serpent was bravery at its craziest, but ultimately awesome.

Gabriel Lightwood was an underdog that I didn’t expect I would come to love. He is a fascinating character with a wonderful redemption arc that should be praised. He learns that his father isn’t the man that he thought he was. He comes to understand that the family you choose for yourself can be more important than your bloodline. The way he falls for Cecily is also a gem of the novel.

Charlotte is one of my favourite leaders in a novel that I have read. She is unapologetically correct and just, she loves people and will always protect them from whatever she deems a threat. She is this wonderful caring woman who is also tough and confident. She deserved the Consul seat much more than Josiah had ever deserved it.

Henry was eccentric and hilarious. He always did the right thing and his inventions were ingenious. I loved the way he could easily work with Magnus without any prejudices and with profound admiration for everyone else. He is a fighter, but more importantly he will always be there for other Shadowhunters. He is also a loving husband and father.

The whole plot of the story was absolutely suspenseful and it kept you glued to your seat the entire time. I loved the way Mortmain was defeated when Tessa changed into Ithuriel, it was glorious. I think the scene I loved the most was in the epilogue when Jem and Tessa meet on Blackfriars Bridge and everything comes full circle with their love story. I am curious as to see how Jem became mortal once more, but I guess that means I have to read the Mortal Instruments series which I will do gladly once I come back from vacation.

To conclude, I loved this series and this book. It is well-written, charismatic, and mesmerizing. I can’t wait to read more from this author.

[I borrowed this book from Biblioteca Judeteana Cluj-Napoca, American Corner]

#cassandra clare #clockwork princess #shadowhunters #jem carstairs #james carstairs #tessa gray #will herondale #the infernal devices #ya fiction #young adult fiction #young adult fantasy #ya fantasy #book review #clockwork princess review #books

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deadtired03 · 4 years

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See No Evil

By DeadTired03

I wasn’t born blind. I was ten when I lost my sight, but I couldn’t tell you why. I just woke up one day and suddenly I couldn’t see anymore. However, I can say with confidence that I’m not just blind, but also that my eyeballs are completely missing. I think someone stole them while I was sleeping, but my parents don’t believe me. What’s worse is that they keep telling me I’ve never had eyes, so there was nothing to steal. Since no one would help me I was forced to drop the issue.

I’m twelve now, and I still can’t see. It’s fine, I’ve gotten used to the constant presence of darkness, but I’d be lying if I said it’s not difficult. Bumping into things a countless number of times, getting lost at school, and just unable to see the beauty of the world are a few examples. Not to mention I’ve started to forget what things look like, and I can’t possibly describe how I or my parents look now. At least I don’t have to worry about my appearance the way I’ve heard some other people do.

I’m also constantly on edge since I can’t see any potential danger. Despite this, I’ve been given a seeing-eye dog that I’ve named Bones, which people have told me is a Golden Retriever. It might seem obvious why I named my dog “Bones”, but the actual reason is because she’s so skinny that I can feel her spine and ribs.

Of course I feed her, more than what a normal dog would eat, but she never seems to gain weight. I’m worried, but my parents keep insisting that she’s fine. She also kind of smells, no matter how many times I try to bathe her. If anything, the smell seems to get worse after a bath. It’s a smell I’ve never encountered before, and it’s difficult to describe other than it’s very bad. Nevertheless, Bones is a very good seeing-eye dog and she always protects me and helps me get around.

Like now, as I maneuver around the house to get ready for school, Bones is by my side to make sure I don’t fall down the stairs. I always throw on a casual dress and tie my hair into pigtails when I get ready, and today’s no different. As I make sure I have everything I need, I’m comforted by the sounds of my parents downstairs; at least my hearing hasn’t failed me.

I grab my backpack with all my school supplies and carefully tread downstairs, probably forgetting something. When I reach the bottom, Bones helps guide me into the kitchen, though I’ve memorized the path by now. The kitchen has a cool temperature and I can smell the breakfast my mother has made, wafting throughout the room. I feel around until I find a seat at the dining table and sit down, listening as someone puts down a plate in front of me.

“Eat quickly,” I hear my mother’s voice say, “you’ll have to leave soon to get to school on time.” I nod, not sure if she actually saw the action, and eat as fast as I can without choking. Since dogs aren’t allowed on the school bus, I have to walk to school, meaning I have to leave early to arrive on time. I don’t mind, though, since riding the bus is a nightmare.

As I eat, I can’t help but ponder over the way my mother’s voice has changed. It’s sounded different ever since I lost my eyes, but only slightly. It’s a bit raspier than what I remember, and a bit hoarse, but I always get the feeling that I shouldn’t mention it. My dad, too, seems to sound different from what I remember, not that he talks much anymore. He’s spoken a lot less since I lost my eyes, and his voice sounds gruff. Just another thing I’ve learned to ignore since going blind.

Suddenly, I wince as I bite into something hard and slightly sharp. From the taste, I know I’ve been eating pancakes, so I have no idea what I could’ve just bitten into. It doesn’t taste like anything, it just feels hard, so I spit it out and try to eat the rest of my food. This isn’t the first time I’ve bitten into something I know didn’t belong in my food, but my mom always ignores me when I ask what it is. Something else I’ve noticed is the slightly sweeter taste to everything my mother cooks, and the fact she’s been cooking a lot more meat. I don’t question it, seeing as how nothing bad has happened as a result, but it still feels strange.

I don’t dwell on it, knowing I should be leaving, and thank my mother for the breakfast before letting Bones guide me out of the house. I’ve slightly remembered the path to school, which luckily isn’t far, but I don’t dare go without Bones. Something about today feels strange, though.

Walking to school, Bones usually pants or growls at people who get too close, but today she’s been abnormally quiet. I’d think I was somehow alone if I couldn’t hear her claws clacking against the sidewalk. Although strange, the sudden feeling of being watched drowns out the worry of Bones’ behavior. I try to convince myself that no one could be following me since Bones would have noticed and alerted me, but the feeling of dread gets worse.

I can’t hear anything other than mine and Bones’ footsteps, but the feeling that I’m being watched keeps getting stronger. It’s as though whatever might be watching me is getting steadily closer. I can feel the hair on my arms raise, sending a shudder throughout my body. Have you ever been chased by something in the pitch black darkness? Unable to see what’s behind you but knowing it’s there? That’s what this feels like, and I’m terrified. And now, I can hear something breathing behind me.

It’s so close, closer than I thought, and Bones still hasn’t reacted. I’m petrified, but I refuse to run and get lost because I don’t know where I’m going. The breathing is getting closer.

And closer.

It’s right behind me now, and not only can I feel it’s breath but I can also smell it. It’s a putrid smell, making me think of rotted teeth. I desperately try not to vomit and instead focus on what I hear. The breathing sounds raspy and hoarse, like whatever’s behind me is struggling to push the air in and out of its lungs. My whole body is painfully tense as I mentally plead with Bones to do something.

“Go back,” says a voice from what’s behind me, “go back and face the truth of your reality. You’ve been blind for far too long.” With that, the breathing disappears and I no longer feel like something’s behind me. In a panic, I turn around to run back home while dragging Bones behind me, following the path I’ve memorized. I barely register the sound of twigs and leaves crunching under my feet as I run, or the sudden increase of weight from my dog as I pull her along. Wasn’t I just on the sidewalk? Why do I feel like I’m in the forest, now?

My breathing becomes erratic and the quickening of my heartbeat begins to feel painful. My thoughts run rampant, frantically, as I feel myself step onto the stone path leading to the front door of my house. What...what’s that smell? It’s so awful, it...it’s the same smell that’s been coming from Bones, but stronger. What’s going on? Why do I suddenly feel so horrible? Why does the smell of rot and decay seem so familiar?

I can feel tears streaming down my face, but I can’t remember when I started crying; something is so horribly wrong. I’ve stopped in front of the door to my house with my hand on the doorknob, hesitating. I desperately don’t want to open the door, but I don’t know why. It’s as though I’m afraid of what’s on the other side, but it’s just my house. My parents probably haven’t even left for work yet. Still, I have to steel my nerves before bringing my self to open the door.

The horrible smell of rot and decay gets so much stronger, it’s a miracle I don’t vomit. I walk into the house, my feet squelching onto something wet upon the carpet. I can hear the buzzing of what seems to be a thousand flies and who knows what else, simultaneously ignoring the sensation of the tiny creatures on my flesh. The air is hot and stuffy, which I’m sure is worsening the sickening odor, and I can barely breath.

I feel lightheaded, as though I’m about to faint, and suddenly my head feels like it’s about to explode. The pain is excruciating, so intense I briefly wonder if I’m dying. And then, all at once, the memories of that night come back in a grotesque slideshow of horror.

I remember everything. I remember being ten years old and waiting for my parents to go to sleep. I remember slowly getting out of my bed, walking towards my bedroom door in the pitch black of night. I remember calmly walking down the carpeted stairs, my head feeling heavy. I remember walking into the kitchen, my bare feet meeting the chill of the tile, and grasping the handle of the largest knife.

I remember going into my parent’s bedroom, quietly, so as to not wake them up. I remember raising the knife above my head and then plunging it down one, two, three times. I remember the screams, the awful screams, haunting sounds of pain and confusion, betrayal. I remember my Golden Retriever, Rosie, coming into the room with the intention of protecting my parents. I remember the cries and whimpers as I raised and plunged the knife, again and again and again.

I remember the sudden and deafening silence. I remember the blood, so much blood, all over my hands, sticky and hot. I remember never getting caught and no one coming to investigate, because we moved deep into the forest without telling anyone. I remember convincing myself that nothing happened, pretending for two years that the steadily rotting corpses were still living beings. I remember eating small bits of their flesh and pretending it was food my mother had made. I remember sitting in the forest with the corpse of my dog and pretending I was at school.

But most of all, I remember tearing out my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the hell I created.

#scary stories #creepy stories #short stories #disturbing #literature #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: self harm #tw: animal death #tw: cannibalism #horror #horror stories #DeadTired03

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theraposture · 3 years

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theraposture reviews

also, this implies that there will in general be an over reliance on relief from discomfort prescription. At the point when the torment is there, drug can be essential for the arrangement, however you should know that this doesn't fix, or get to the lower part of the issue. The explanation we feel torment theraposture is on the grounds that that is our body's method of disclosing to us that something isn't right. On the off chance that we just dispense with the torment, and clearly appreciate the help this brings, we have successfully close out the notice signals. The spinal pain will return, maybe with higher power furthermore, making a fix substantially more troublesome. Back Alignment and Posture. A typical purpose behind theraposture is awful stance that outcomes in focused on back muscles, and causing the back to be skewed. This influences the legs, hips, shoulders, neck and obviously the back. There are common choices to help you right this that incorporate back rub, practice for the back muscles - and among the best and easy to do is back extending.To your surprises you might have spent hundreds of dollars on pills and injections or even surgery because of your theraposture. Considering the fact that you will be paying for medications three times per week or even more and the result is temporary relief from pain, you observe that what you are spending on theraposture can affect your savings. With these techniques, you do not have to spend so much to get that permanent relief from pain you so desire, it teaches you how to stop spending a lot on pills and injections, you get these techniques and use it forever.

Despite the fact that it sounds adolescent the common early morning stretch with your arms levelfurthermore, moving to the back, as you curve your back, tense your muscles, and give ahuge yawn is, magnificent as well as useful for your back.We invest a great deal of energy plunking down before a work area, or more awful, slumped on a sofaalso, have become used to disregard our theraposture stances. This slumping, the twisting of thower back, places a ton of strain on the muscles, that some place down the line willsend an excruciating message. The emphasis ought to be on the quest for the fix, the agony, rather than dodging itincidentally with drugs - thusly the need is the determination, what is causing thetorment. Normal, delicate techniques for changes, including back rub and exercise treatment.I know you have tried so many medications for theraposture before you finally find the one that works for you, because not all pain reliever works the same, what works for you might possibly not work for someone else. With these techniques it makes you feel relief in seconds, you do not need to worry about trying different treatments that will work for you, it works for everybody.Most of the medications that were prescribed for you often times come with its side effect because no theraposture medications that does not have its own side effects. Some of the side effects are dizziness, nausea, vomiting, dryness in the mouth, constipation, urinary retention, respiratory depression, pupil contraction, among others. What you do not know is that the pain medications can be dangerous than even the pain itself considering the side effects you might be going through. With these techniques that you will be applying, you do not have to worry about any side effects, because it is natural, which teaches your body to go back to the art of natural movements. It is not harmful to your health rather it fights the pain in seconds by attacking the root cause of the problem.

this article on his article onAuthor Kelly LoveEarly in the morning, you wake up and you feel this theraposture that can be excruciating, and the next action is to take your medications, then you smile how quickly this works. What you do not know is that it is just temporary and why is it so, because it just treats the symptoms and not the root cause, so you are definitely going to experience this pain in the near future. But what if you are i theraposture n possession of techniques that will not only take care of the symptoms, but also treat the cause of the pain so that you can get that lasting relief you so desire? It is clear, simple, easy to understand, and very interesting. It has been around for over 100 years, and been used by thousands of people either to cure or prevent pain. These techniques teaches you how: to know the root cause of your problems, how to get lasting relief from pain, how to get back to everyday pain free activities, stop wasting a lot of money on pills and injections, to improve your endurance, strength and coordination exactly where youLet me tell you something, you are definitely not finding solutions to your problem by taking medications. This is what happens when you take theraposture medications: It either blocks the pain signal that is linked to your brain or interrupts your brain interpretation of these signals. What this means is that they make you feel relief from pain for some hours, or at most few days, which you know is temporary. But if you apply techniques that will work on the root cause of your problems and find lasting relief from pain permanently, would not that be a better option than relying on medications that will make you incapable of feeling pain temporarily? Why not solve these problems once and for all, stop this continuous repetition of temporary pain relief.

https://www.checkmypulseblog.com/theraposture/

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noonachronicles · 4 years

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Everlong Pt. 8

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings; None? There might be a single curse word?

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy.

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for their patience with me! I love and appreciate you so much!

Update Tag: @kathrynwynterbourne , @keepthelightoff, @blue-lungs , @violagoth , @un-idntfied , @optimizche , @de-gabyconamor , @134340-cm @wonderful39530

Moodboard by Bae @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Hades Palace was nicer than the one Zeus had on Olympus, but nobody really knew about that because it very rarely saw visitors. At first it wasn’t nicer. In fact at first it wasn’t much at all. So modest it was barely a home. Hades had been just fine with that. It was only him and he had never really required much. He hadn’t been as exuberant back then as he was now. Before he brought Persephone home he had added some editions to make it more suitable for her. Even still she had wanted more and he’d believed, at least at the time, that she deserved it. Now what had once been a humble home was a superfluous show of luxury.

Following their marriage, when the underworld had become her home, Persephone found herself constantly restless, with seemingly nothing to do. She hadn’t realized when she agreed to the marriage that it meant she would be burdened with the responsibilities of the underworld with him, that she wouldn’t just be able to go and come back at her leisure. That she would have to stay there, that it would be her home for better or worse.

Every time she got a little bored or felt melancholy Persephone would renovate some part of the underworld, redesign whatever she could, or just simply add another room to the palace. There were rooms with marble floors, red carpets, hardwood, and some with meticulously placed mosaic tile designs. They were matched with walls in red, white, gold, and even black. Rooms lined with shelves full of books written by dead authors like Faust and Austin. Poems never read by mortals written by Poe and Dante. There was an entire wing dedicated to priceless, never before seen art created by artists who had passed long ago. Some rooms were a hoarders, cluttered paradise and others that had stayed as empty as the day they were built.

At its original inception, the palace Hades built for Perspehone, was a mere fifteen rooms and a moderately sized garden. Now it sat heartily at over two thousand rooms, six gardens, a pond, and an elaborate hedge maze. The entire property sat atop a large hill with a magnificent view of the underworld from anywhere you stood. It was surrounded by a stone and wrought iron fence that stood twelve feet tall at its peak.

“What is this place?” you asked in awe. You didn’t even wait for an answer before practically skipping over to the massive iron fence, “Must be important all locked up and hidden away.”

Jiyong walked up slowly behind you, hands in his pockets and much less impressed. “It’s Hades palace.”

Your eyes went wide with excitement and you turned back to it in hopes of getting a good look at the home. He continued to follow behind you as you inched your way down the fence trying to find the best view beyond the hedges and trees that blocked your sight. After moving down a few feet you finally found a spot that you could see passed if you stood on your tiptoes. There was a massive maze of hedges covering the width of the grounds. Beyond that there was a field of bright green grass that moved up a gentle slope. At the top was a massive home built of limestone. There were columns that lined the entire front of the building, and if you squinted you could see the mascarons, cartouche, festoons, and corbels that decorated the outside. You wished that you could get closer to see the detail just knowing that it would be gorgeous.

“That has to be what… five hundred rooms minimum?” you asked awestruck by the sheer size of it.

”Eight floors, five different wings, and two thousand rooms. It goes back further than it looks from here.” You looked beside you to where Jiyong was standing with his back against the fence. His notebook open in his hands as he answered with clear disinterest. After a moment of thought he chuckled, “Surely you think he’s overcompensating.”

“You’ve been inside?” you said with a blush, ignoring his comment, before looking back through the fence.

“A couple times. You want to go in?”

You scoffed, “No, I’d rather go back to the field of nightmares and torture. What if they’re in there? Can you imagine running into them? Terrifying.”

“Them?” he asked looking up at you from his book.

“Hades and Persephone,” you said as if it was the most obvious of answers, “I mean, they’re probably in there somewhere right now, it is their home.”

He grinned though you didn’t see, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

You turned to him with a sour face and exasperated sigh, “Don’t ruin this for me. I have a whole fantasy going on in my head right now. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“Alright,” he laughed, “maybe they’re in there. What’s your big fantasy?”

You made a face and then shook your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“We’ll never know if you never tell me.” he shrugged. You hummed, knowing he was right.

“In the beginning she wasn’t super fond of him, right? That’s what all the stories say. However, I don’t get the feeling that Hades was like some horrible monster, maybe...probably? I think that he knew she was miserable and didn’t want to be here and wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. Of course anyone with common sense might ask why he wouldn’t just let her go? He couldn’t let her go because he was just too infatuated and, well, likely very lonely.” you said eyeing the extravagantly large home, how could he not be lonely. “So he let her choose her own room and she picked the furthest one from his, as far as she could possibly go. Then she allowed herself to know him. Through tiny greetings at first that grew into conversations under the stars that lasted through the night. She liked him more and more as time passed and started moving her room to be closer and closer to his. They’re completely in love now and have a thousand children that fill up their thousands of rooms. Their love was just a very excruciating slow burn. The slowest burn, kidnapper and his kidnappee to lovers story. The Beauty and the Beast of greek mythology.”

“That’s not love.” he sighed, “That’s stockholm syndrome.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s less romantic when you say it like that.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” he chuckled as you finally stepped down from the fence.

“Do you think…” you blushed and shook your head again, “never mind.”

Jiyong closed his notebook and slipped it back into the pocket on the inside of his coat. “Oh, go on, you have to ask me now. You’re practically scarlet.”

“Just...I know it’s weird to think about but, do you think they have sex? And if they do, what do you think it’s like? Is it otherworldly or is it just normal married couple sex where they’re both thinking of something else entirely since they’ve been together forever.” you asked, “Stories about Hades make him seem so different than his brothers, especially Zeus who was just a big slut really. I don’t think it would totally surprise me if Hades was asexual or something.”

Jiyong choked on nothing more than the air in his mouth and shock. “He’s not… asexual. Though I don’t think they’re having sex either. If they ever tried I imagine it would be unsatisfying, lackluster...forgettable.”

“Ooh, harsh.” you laughed, “Okay, well then how would they have had children? Do you think they had children? I don’t know if I can imagine Hades with a baby. It’s too weird but so is thinking about that palace being sad and empty.”

“I’m sure Hades would have loved to have children of his own, he’d be great with them even.” he shrugged, “Persephone has three children and he did wonderfully raising them with her.”

“Why’d you say it like that?” You asked curiously.

“Say it like what?”

You leaned against the fence next to him. “Persephone has three children. Not they have three children.”

“Hades isn’t the father of Persephone’s children.” he said simply.

“So they’re what, from before him? She was a teenager wasn’t she?” You cringed.

“Not before him just not with him.”

Your eyes went wide, “Drama! This sounds like a really great story and I already love it. Tell me what you think their story is. Please? Oh, please play the fantasy story game with me!”

“Alright, I’ll play.” he grinned, “but not here. If I’m going to do it I think it should be done in the proper setting.”

“You have my attention.” your eyebrows scrunched together, curious about what he was going to suggest.

“I just think it seems more fitting for me to tell you about their love from her garden. Don’t you agree?”

Your eyes went wide and your mouth dropped open in excitement, making him laugh at your genuine reaction. “Where is it?”

“Just there.” he said and pointed a little ways down to where the iron fence arched upward with a flourish.

Without wasting a second you ran towards the gate and peered inside. The surrounding fence had been draped in dark green ivy which made it impossible to see through, but through the gate itself was a lush garden. It was thick with trees and there was a stone path that disappeared between dense shrubbery. Everything was so green. Every few feet there was a pop of color from flowers. Their color, in contrast from the greenery, seemed even more vibrant. Your fingers wrapped around the gate and you pulled only to be denied.

You turned to Jiyong, as he finally arrived, with a pout, “It’s locked.”

“Oh no, that’s a shame. Where would we ever find the key?” he asked twisting an old iron skeleton key around his fingers.

“How... where did you… no don’t tell me. I don’t want to be any more of an accomplice to your illegal activities than I already am.”

You stepped back and watched him unlock the gate and push it open. Suddenly you felt stuck with fear.

He looked over at you curiously, “Are you coming?”

“What if she’s in there?” you asked warily, peeking back through the gate.

“Persephone?” he asked, you nodded, “I thought you said she was in the palace. Is she in there or out here because she can only be one. She’s not omnipresent.”

You looked at him for a long minute, chewing on your bottom lip. He could tell you wanted to argue and tried not to laugh. Finally with a huff you stomped through the gate, “Fine.”

“This actually works out perfectly for us. After we rest for a bit we can cut through the garden to Asphodel.” he said thoughtfully as he relocked the gate. When he turned back around you had your hand held out to him. “What?”

“You have to hold my hand. You’ve held my hand through all the dangerous stuff, you can’t just stop now.”

He smiled to himself before grabbing your hand in his, “This place isn’t scary or dangerous. Nothing will hurt you here, I promise.”

“I’m so sure.” you scoffed, “This is a prime atmosphere for bad things to happen. We basically snuck onto palace grounds into this lush garden where anyone or anything could be waiting to attack us. When it does I will need to quickly drag your body in front of me as a shield, that’s why I wanted to hold your hand.”

“Elaborate please, on the dangers of this garden.” he requested, the amusement clear in his tone.

“Serpents, for one. Tiny, mythical, woodland creatures like evil pixies or gnomes that try and steal drops of our blood for dark magic. Or Hades himself could be lurking around a tree somewhere ready for the attack.” you answered as you walked together down the stone path.

“I-” Jiyong scoffed, “Hades doesn’t lurk.”

“Okay, fine. Someone else then. Is this location not perfect, aesthetically, for Medusa?”

“No!” he laughed, “You’re insane. Why would she ever come here?”

“Let’s see, to turn trespassers into stone statues so they can be placed around the garden as a warning to others...obviously.”

He shook his head incredulously, “I bet you a trillion dollars Medusa is not in this garden.”

“If you think that’s a good idea, but if there is even a single statue in this garden we will know that you were wrong and also that we are minutes from death.” you looked over at him and he nodded in agreement.

“Fair enough.”

With your hand securely in Jiyongs, you wandered comfortably down the cobblestone path through the garden. Trees arched over the tops of your heads, and every few yards there were stone columns, wrapped with overgrown ivy, and topped with what looked like giant marble bowls emitting light from a fire burning inside. Jiyong explained that the bowls were filled with slow burning oil, that it wasn’t some mystical magic as you avidly suggested.

Though your feet stayed on the path, your eyes wandered every which way. There was so much to see you found it hard to focus on one thing for too long, only asking about a few things, because you’d gotten distracted before you thought to ask about others. With your focus anywhere else you missed as Jiyong collected fruit from the trees that lined the pathway in his pockets. After some time you saw an opening in the path. The walkway was widening and the trees were parting.

“Shit.” Jiyong muttered with sudden realization.

“What?” you asked.

“You’ll see.” he sighed as you walked into the courtyard.

There was a large marble fountain in the center, two iron benches sat on opposite sides, and in each of the four corners of the clearing was a marble statue, three women and one man.

Your mouth fell open in amusement and you looked over at Jiyong who, in rare form, did not look as smug as he usually did. “I can’t believe we’re going to be turned into stone, and just when I was about to come into a trillion dollar fortune.”

He only groaned in response.

With a laugh you dropped his hand and moved towards the first statue, studying the mysterious woman it depicted, “Who are they?”

“That’s Persephone and the others are her children. Makaria and Melinoe are her daughters and her son is Zagreus”

You moved onto the next statue, examining every detail, and then did it again until you were at the last of the four. Jiyong had been watching you as you inspected each one carefully and in detail. The whole time you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You’re staring.” you said with your back to him as you looked at the impeccable artistry, you could practically see every strand of hair that fell down the woman’s back. “Why are you staring at me?”

“It’s just...nice to see you happy, playful, back to yourself.” he answered quietly.

“What, you didn’t like when I was crippled with emotional distress and crying into your expensive clothes every ten minutes?” you grinned, eyeing him over your shoulder.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, period.” he said moving towards one of the benches to sit. “Which is why I didn’t want to bring you to-”

“You’re never letting that go are you?” you cut him off as you moved to sit beside him.

Finally his superior little smirk was back, “Nope.”

“Alright, well I’m ready. Are you ready with your story?” you asked pulling one of your legs up on the bench as you got comfortable.

“First things first, you should eat something.” he said and began to pull the pieces of fruit he’d been collecting from his pockets like they were made from the same magic as Mary Poppins carpet bag. “It’s been a long day and you haven’t eaten.”

“Oh. My. God.” you gasped and reached down and grabbed a red sphere, “A pomegranate from Persephone’s garden?”

“I thought you might enjoy that. The pears taste better though, in my opinion.”

You dropped the pomegranate on the seat of the bench, and picked up the golden pear. It wasn’t just a yellow pear or a golden-ish looking pear. It looked like it was made of solid gold and would crack all of the teeth in your mouth with one bite.

“I can eat this?” you asked eyeing the fruit suspiciously, Jiyong nodded in confirmation.

You looked at the fruit for several more moments before cautiously lifting it to your lips and taking a bite. Your eyes blew wide open as the first bits of flavor cascaded into your mouth. A lewd moan slipped from your lips as you sucked on the fruit with an unintended sensuality. Jiyong squirmed slightly in his seat, finally taking off his coat and laying it across his lap.

“God, sorry.” you said once the pear had been devoured down to its core. You looked around for somewhere to put the inedible portion. He chuckled and grabbed the core by the stem from your hand and chucked it into the bushes.

“Should I begin?” he asked.

You nodded with excitement and picked up one of the apples, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but yes. Please start.”

“Well to start with Persephone wasn’t a teenager when they met. Which is one of my least favorite misconceptions.” he said with a small eye roll, “She was actually in her thirties when he first met her, but because he is immortal he already had four hundred or so years on her. People like to make him out to be some sort of monster, preying on infants. You tell me what an immortal man is supposed to do. If he only ever found romance with women who’d been around as long as him he’d end up marrying one of his sisters like Zeus did. And that prospect is just something that never sat well with me, him...I would assume.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing at him outright. You were amused at how passionate he’d already become about his story.

“Pause, breathe, continue.” you said placing a gentle hand on his forearm.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The day they met Hades had gone to see his sister, Demeter, at her palace on Olympus. He’d been on his way out, walking through a meadow near the home. It was there he first saw her, that part is true. She had been the most beautiful creature he had seen in decades and he was in love with her before he took his next breath.”

“That quick, huh? She must really be something else.” you looked over at her statue and felt underwhelmed. Not entirely sure why, you felt a brief flash of jealousy hit you. “I don’t really see it.”

Jiyong smirked, not missing the petty undertone of your comment. “The thing people don’t understand about Hades is that he was never some recluse. He didn’t always hate everyone and he never liked being here all alone. The underworld was a fate that had been handed to him, not one he ever would have chosen for himself. Back then it was even more unpleasant here than it is now, probably what people expect it to be. It was basically just a deserted wasteland with souls meandering about. No order or structure. He hadn’t really done much with the underworld because he didn’t want this to be a home to him. He’d been lonely. Hades didn’t have many friends here and his family never came to visit. He felt abandoned for a long time. When he saw her, Persephone, this shiny new being with her kind smile, his infatuation was instant and overwhelming. She had been sweet to him, brought him to her garden, laughed with him, kissed his cheek, and asked him to come back and visit her again.”

“Wait, she liked him.” you said with genuine surprise.

“He thought so as well, at the time. And she may very well have, but her infatuation wouldn’t last forever. In the end it turned out she was very much like her father, a flirt.” he shrugged, “Regardless her actions that day sparked something inside of him. He’d come back here inspired to make the underworld a place worthy of being called home. Somewhere she would be comfortable and would want to visit.”

“He...really did all of this for her?” suddenly your heart felt soft.

“From the arch at the gate to the flooring in Tartarus. There have, of course, been many upgrades and renovations since then. But yes, originally he did it all for her.”

“I wonder what that feels like, to have someone love you that much.” you said quietly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Jiho is great but it’s more of a modern love maybe. And it seems that modern love is a little selfish. I think, even if he had the capabilities of doing something that romantic, he still probably wouldn’t. Which is fine...I don’t need that kind of old fashioned romance.”

You could feel tears flood the backs of your eyes and bit your cheek to keep from crying. You had to stop crying. Suddenly you thought back to the roses. To the sad songs that had echoed through your heart and you wondered if this was yours. You always thought Jiho had loved you but it was possible he didn’t love you the way you loved him. Maybe your love was unrequited. Or maybe knowing that you loved him infinitely more than he loved you was the heartbreak you would suffer.

“Y/n,” Jiyong frowned, and placed his hand against your cheek, “It’s just a story.”

“It’s a really good one so far.” Wrapping your fingers around his you smiled into his palm, “Tell me, what did Persephone think when he showed her.”

“She loved it at first. Or she loved that it meant he would do anything for her. She liked to come and go as she pleased. Often she used the underworld as an escape from her parents, mostly her overbearing mother. She enjoyed the freedom of this place, she was welcome to go wherever she pleased and could do whatever she wanted as well. Persephone had begun to spend so much time here and with Hades that he confessed that he loved her and asked her to be his wife. Her mother of course rejected the idea and that only made her more willing to do so.”

“I don’t like her.” you interrupted, “Persephone, she seems like a brat. She’s just using him.”

“She wasn’t as bad as I’ve made her out to be. She was very sweet, very funny at times. She just had the spirit of a wanderer and was a bit...flakey. I don’t think she understood what it meant to be married to Hades. That she would have responsibilities here and that she could no longer just leave and go wherever she wanted whenever she wanted. She did so well at first, but she got restless and resentful. She’d claimed that Hades hadn’t explained to her what the marriage entailed and acted like it was a prison sentence instead of a relationship. Willing to do whatever it took to please her, Hades compromised, allowing her to leave for six months of the year.” he explained.

“So that part’s true too.”

“Yes, that part’s true.” he continued, “One of the times she had left she had come back pregnant. She had Melinoe, her first daughter and Hades favorite of the children. A couple years later the same thing had happened, this time giving them Makaria. Then again a little while later with her son, Zagreus. At that point it was clear that even the compromise they had made was no longer enough for her. She wasn’t really a wonderful mother. She loved her children, of course, but they just made her feel more trapped than she’d already felt. Before long her wanderlust has turned her completely against her family. She used to tell Hades that even just six months in the underworld felt like being trapped in a coffin. She told Hades she would never carry his child, that her body would never allow it because of how much she loathed him for tricking her.”

You shook your head angrily, “Why didn’t he leave her or make her leave or however that would have worked?”

“Eventually he would, but at that point he hadn’t stopped loving her. Persephone and her children were all he had. He deluded himself into believing that everything would be okay because he’d been so afraid to be alone again. Before too long it had become too much, fighting her had become too exhausting and he let her go. After she left, he locked up this garden, her garden. He forbid anyone else to ever come here. It’s why everything is so overgrown.”

You sat quietly for a minute, absorbing the story, and looking around the courtyard. Even if he’d only just made it all up, Jiyong’s story felt so real. The energy felt different in the garden now, sadder and more dark than before. You wondered if it had been this way the whole time and had just been masked by your initial excitement. The images you’d had of Hades being pounced on by a handful of toddlers that looked like him faded away into one of him, lonely, somewhere in his massive palace.

“Well,” you sighed, “that’s a terrible love story. I’m a little upset with you for giving me such a horrible ending. You know stories can have happy endings, right?”

“Who says his story is over just because Persephone is gone?” he asked tossing the last gold pear into the air before catching it.

“Aww,” you cooed, “Okay, that’s cute. You’re forgiven.”

“Oh, thank the gods!” he oozed with sarcasm. You eyed the pear as he tossed it in the air again before catching it in his hand once more. He grinned watching your tongue dip over your lip, “You want the pear, don’t you?”

“No…” you’d already had three while he’d been telling the story, but still your mouth watered. “Yes.”

He handed it over with a laugh and you took a big satisfied bite from the fruit.

Wiping a bit of juice from your chin you held the pear out in your hand, “You should have a bite. You haven’t eaten either, and you said you preferred them.”

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, “They’re so good.”

Jiyong cupped your hand in his and brought the pear held in your fingers to his lips. You inhaled, surely it wasn’t intentional, but the way he moved his mouth around the fruit, his tongue just barely visible as it brushed against it, had you longing. Though you weren’t even sure what for. It was just an instant, deep pull at your gut. As his teeth sunk down into the gold flesh of the pear you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Juice pooled from the pear into your palm until it was dripping down your arm.

“Oops.” He muttered nonchalantly before sucking the heel of your hand between his lips to catch the juice.

Your pupils blew wide and he paused realizing what he’d done. It had been so second nature for him he didn’t stop to think that it was wrong. If your hand wasn’t still held by his you were certain that it would be trembling. He looked at you, his lips still on your hand, his soft tongue pressed against your palm. He waited a moment for an answer to his unspoken question. Was this okay?

With your lip between your teeth you gave him the slightest nod. He moved his head back and took in the sight of your bare arm with a gulp. Finding where the trail of juice had petered off near your elbow he brought your arm closer to him. The pear fell to the courtyard floor with a splat, your fingers unable to hold on any longer. You let out something between a whimper and a gasp as his tongue moved all the way up your arm until it was back against your palm. Goosebumps lined your skin like a tiny army. He continued to suck and lick at your palm and your fingers until he was satisfied they were clean of the pear juice.

He kissed back up your arm. Quick little pecks, a couple tiny nibbles against your skin, until he reached the sleeve of your shirt and then he jumped to your bare neck.

There was nothing you could think to say beyond a breathy, “ah, oh.”

You cupped the back of his neck while he sucked on the skin of your clavicle. His fingers grasped your hip as he groaned into you neck with satisfaction. His mouth moved up your throat, and along your jaw while his hand moved up your side until he was cupping your breast over your shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours and eyed your lips with an insatiable hunger.

“Wait,” You whispered, and brushed your thumb against his swollen lip, wishing yours were the same, “is this a dream?”

“I don’t think so.” his lips pressed against the pad of your thumb. He held your gaze for what felt like an eternity before pulling his body away from yours. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

“I do.” You corrected, “I want that more than anything else in the world right now.”

“But you won’t, right? Because of him.”

“It just doesn’t feel right.” your stomach twisted into a knot, and your chest felt tight as you watched him push himself up from the bench to put his coat back on. “I’m sorry, Ji. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” he said shortly, “We have to go, it’s getting too late.”

“Okay.” you said and watched him as he moved towards the start of the path on the opposite side of where you’d come in. You stood up from the bench slowly, removed your sweater from around your waist and pulled it over your head. The awkward tension between you two was intolerable. “Jiyong...if I knew what was going to happen. If it was clear how all of this ends...I just…”

“Stop!” he shouted, he looked furious when he turned to you, in a way he had never looked at you before. “Just stop talking about it! You didn’t want it to happen. It didn’t happen. Let it go...so I can.”

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and took off down the pathway, not even waiting to check if you followed. With your arms crossed over your chest you walked behind him quite a bit, mostly to give him a chance to cool off. The walk down this path seemed shorter, but that could have just been because of the way he was storming down it. You had to speed walk to keep up. When you reached the gate he already had it unlocked and open for you, he didn't even look at you as you passed him. You waited a few feet away as he locked it back up, and sighed as he brushed passed you without a word.

Jiyong wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. It felt like everything was going wrong. All he wanted to do was tell you everything. Tell you who he was, who Jiho was, why you were really here. However there was a nagging sensation at the back of his head telling him that once he told you he was going to lose you. In one way or another you were going to be gone from his life and he was going to be alone again in his big house on the hill. He didn’t want to risk losing you to the truth a second sooner than he needed to. Even if that meant suffering through the awkward silence, at least you were still together.

Leaving the garden brought you to a quiet meadow. It had you reminiscent of the field of punishment and it made you wish that you had your friend to comfort you, rather than an entire yard ahead of you pretending like you didn’t exist. The look on his face had made you feel guilty. There was so much anger, frustration, and pain in his eyes. Now he was walking around looking so dejected. It made you wonder if anyone had told him no before. The worst part was that you didn’t even want to say no, you’d wanted to kiss him. But if you kissed Jiyong you’d have to explain it to Jiho if you really got to see him and things just felt so complicated already.

At the edge of the field you hit the treeline of a forest. Jiyong didn’t stop walking, just kept going. The forrest was thick with trees. The second you stepped beyond the first trunks there were barely even streams of light from the sun above. Just enough that you were able to see the floor beneath your feet. There were fir trees, pine trees, cypresses and cedars. Even your favorite trees of all, weeping willows, took up space in the forest. You’d wanted to say something about how beautiful it was. How calming it felt and how wonderful the smell around you was. Jiyong was still steps ahead of you with his head slumped between his shoulders and his hands in his pockets.

You huffed, “Ji, please don’t be mad at me. I really can’t stand this.”

“I’m not mad at you.” He muttered and kept on through the fallen sticks and needles.

“You haven’t even looked at me since we left the garden. I hate to be presumptuous but I have to believe it has something to do with-“

He spun around and grabbed both of your shoulders. “I can’t look at you because everytime I do I wish I was kissing you. I can’t kiss you though, because you don’t want me to. So I’m just going to need a while, is that okay with you?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t kiss you.” you said quietly, feeling guilty all over again, “I’m sorry, I upset you.”

Jiyong let out a frustrated growl, “You want me to be mad at you? Now I’m mad at you! Stop apologizing for telling me no. Never apologize for telling someone no, for not doing something that makes you uncomfortable or that you don’t want to do. That pisses me off. You’re allowed to say no.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You corrected, “it’s just that, I’ve kind of thought about it a lot, getting to kiss you. If I ever get to kiss you...I want to do it the right way. I don’t want anyone or anything in between us. Just me and you.” You sighed and put your palm against his cheek, “Kissing you…this sounds so lame but, kissing you means something more to me because you mean something more to me.”

He looked at you for a long minute, stunned, “You really think about kissing me?”

You felt a blush rise in your cheeks as you dropped your hand from his face. “I told you before that I’d wanted to.”

“I thought you meant you just wanted to in that moment, not...all the time.”

“It’s not like I think about it every second or anything…” your cheeks burned, “Have I not been making my feelings painfully clear to you?”

“You still want to go to Jiho. You won’t be with me because of him.”

“I know, I’m sorry if it’s been confusing for you. Imagine how it’s been for me.” You sighed, “I still love him. I feel like I have to do this, you know? I have an obligation to finish this out, to go to him, to see what happens and how I feel before I make a decision.”

A smile spread over his lips before giving you a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked confused by the quick switch in his mood.

“Okay. I’ll wait. Okay. We’ll kiss the right way, like you want.” He grabbed your hand from your side and started walking through the forest of trees with you following behind.

It was enough. He felt better now, knowing that you’d thought about kissing him. That it was something that you wanted too. A hopeful feeling awoke inside him that was screaming that this would be ok. Even if he had to wait a little longer for you to see the truth, he could wait for you, he’d waited this long.

“Wait, we will?” You asked.

“Of course we will. It’s probably better if we don’t do it just yet. You’re not ready for me.” His shoulders were back and his chest was out, his confidence was through the roof.

“Oh, really?” You laughed.

“There’s no way you’d be able to handle it.”

“Well I kind of think we should kiss now, just to see. I bet that trillion dollars you owe me I’d be just fine.”

He looked over his shoulder at you skeptically, his eyebrow raised, “It would be irresponsible of me. You might never come back from it. Down for the count.”

“Down for the count!” You cheeks burned with laughter, “Oh jeez.”

He grinned, more at himself than at you, “Just wait. I’m gonna blow your mind.”

It was the best feeling in the underworld having your hand wrapped inside of his, the energy between the two of you bubbling once more. You told him all about how anxious you’d felt in the meadow on the way over. He admitted he’d worried about how you’d handle it, how he’s wanted to tell you it would be just fine. You mentioned that you’d loved the weeping willows and he’d laughed and told you it wasn’t too surprising to hear. Then you reached a clearing. A patch of grass surrounded by weeping willows that opened up to the fading light of the sun.

“How do you like the forest? Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“It’s nice, calming. I don’t know what this feeling is. It’s almost content?”

“Content could be correct,” he hummed in thought, “This is meant to be a neutral place. No positive emotions, but no negative ones either. Simply a place to exist. This forest is Asphodel.”

You looked around curiously, “Asphodel is supposed to be a field.”

“You make a lot of assumptions. Almost all of them are wrong, and yet you continue making them.” he laughed.

With a scoff you pinched the back of his arm until he winced with pain, “Call it consistency.”

“If you prefer,“ he laughed again, “I think we should stay here for the night.”

You shrugged with indifference, “Why? Since it’s so empty? Not a lot of restless wanders around to bother us?”

“Consistent.” Jiyong grinned as he pulled his jacket off and laid it out on the grass. “Asphodel is the most occupied space in all of Hades. There are more souls here than everywhere else in the underworld put together.”

“How?” you asked incredulously, “Blades of grass? Leaves on the trees?”

He sat down on the jacket and patted the space next to him, “Sit down and rest with me. You’ll see soon enough.”

Sitting down next to Jiyong and finally stretching out your legs left you with the realization of how much you’d already done today, how far you’d gone and all the things you’d seen. Exhaustion came on very suddenly.You laid back against the grass with a sigh and looked up at the patch of sky above you. Jiyong sat quietly beside you flipping through his notebook as always, you half thought to ask him what was in it. You’d thought about asking him about a thousand times since you’d met but worried it might be too personal so you never did. Everything around you had a sense of calm, you thought for awhile you might actually drift off to sleep as the sky grew dark.

That was when you first saw it. A single flicker of light among the dense trees. You blinked several times, unsure you’d really seen it. Then it was there again. A little light blinking now and again as it passed behind leaves and branches. Before you knew it there was another, and then another. One by one tiny little lights like fireflies seemed to flicker to life among the trees until they filled every patch of darkness and left the clearing in a soft glow.

“It’s so beautiful.” you whispered, mesmerized by the sight before you. Then your heart sank with realization, “These are the souls. Do they fill up the whole forest?”

“Yeah.” he said quietly.

“That’s so many.”

“Centuries worth.”

As several of the orbs of light began to trickle down from the trees you sat up to watch them. Some sank down all the way to the forest floor, others spread out through the trees until they disappeared completely. It was like watching the stars from the night before, except this time instead of watching from below you were sitting right in the middle of the universe.

Jiyong couldn’t take his eyes off of the way you looked around with such wonder. He’d become entranced with the way your eyes sparkled with the light of the souls that surrounded you. Desire filled the pit of his stomach and a slight pout crossed his lips as he realized he didn’t usually want for much, but he did for you. He needed to know why you’d come into his life and what, if anything, your futures held together. And he’d realized that he knew where to go to get his answers. All he needed was a chance to slip away.

The souls, despite surrounding you, never really came close to the pair of you. They didn’t really interact at all. Which is why, after some time had passed, you were surprised to see one of the tiny little orbs hover closely in front of you. Then like a cat with a sudden burst of energy, it started to zoom around you. The tiny orb zipped through your hair, making you laugh and booped against your nose which left you feeling overwhelmed with love. When you held out your hand it circled up your arm and landed in your palm.

“Do you think…” you couldn’t even finish the thought before your eyes welled with tears, you felt ridiculous even thinking it.

“I really do.” he said quietly, knowing exactly what it was you were thinking. “I think she found you.”

“Seems silly.” You sniffled, “How could she? In this entire forest, with all these souls, it just seems so unlikely.”

He lifted his hand to your face, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear and brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “And yet, it’s happened.”

You both watched as the little bulb of light zipped from your palm and started to circle around Jiyong as if inspecting him. It made you want to laugh, how nervous he looked. It was the, bringing your boyfriend home to meet the family, experience that you had missed out on in your youth. It wasn’t until she began to bounce against the tip of his nose that he finally relaxed enough to give a smile.

“I think grandma likes you.” you bit your lip realizing that she really would have liked him.

Jiyong was the kind of person she would have loved for you. He was respectful and kind, but still confident and fun. His sarcastic humor reminded you of hers and you could instantly imagine afternoons getting sassed by both of them and you knew that you would have loved it. For a long while she bounced between the two of you, until you let out an unmistakable yawn. Then the tiny little orb zipped around you once more and eased back into the masses.

“It’s been a long day, are you ready for some rest finally?”

You nodded in response and looked down at the ground where you’d been laying earlier. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.” he said with zero hesitation as he laid down beside you.

“I know it’s not fair to ask, especially after this afternoon, but if it’s not too much...and you can say no-”

He cut you off, “Just ask what you want to ask.”

“You...can I...is it okay if I hold you? I have such a hard time getting to sleep without holding something.”

“You mean someone.” he said with a hint of jealousy.

“What?” you asked genuinely confused.

“I assume you meant Jiho. So someone, not something.”

“Oh!” you chuckled, “No...he’s not much of a cuddler, but I had a lot of pillows back home and I haven’t seen a single one in this forest.”

“Um.” he shifted, “Well, I’m not really equipped to say no to you. So whatever you need to be comfortable, I’m here for.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked down at him, “Stop…if it makes you uncomfortable...”

“Would you please just lay down?”

With a small grateful smile you laid down and tucked into his side. Your arm wrapped around him and you curled your fingers into the sweater he was wearing like you’d wanted to when you saw him in front of the bakery. You inhaled deeply taking in the sweet chocolate scent he gave off with the tiniest hint of spice.

“Thank you, Ji.” you whispered against his neck.

“You’re welcome.” he sighed, trying not to shiver at the way you made him feel.

It took seconds for you to fall asleep in the comfort of Jiyong. He however laid awake, staring up at the starry sky. He’d intended to sneak away while you slept to get the answers he’d been looking for. He wondered how he’d manage to slip out of your embrace. He wondered where he’d find the will to even want to try. He wrapped his arm over your shoulders and pressed a kiss against the crown of your head. In the end he decided he could wait a little longer for his answers.

#kwon jiyong scenario #g dragon scenario #kpop scenarios #big bang scenarios #Everlong

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nacrepearl · 4 years

Text

I Spilled All Over Velvet

Rating: T

CW for: Choking, stabbing, descriptions of blood. It’s whump!

Tensions are high following the upturn of what gemkind has known for thousands of years, and some gems have it out for the "new Pink Diamond." Pearl acts as watch until everything settles, and sometimes it comes with ugly confrontations.

In the coming months after the upheavals of White Diamond’s reign and the establishment of a new order, the citizens of Beach City--both human and gem--set out to provide a comforting new home to their forthcoming neighbors. Progress had been steady, and with the completion of the new beach house, Bismuth’s involvement in the project had vastly improved the efficiency and speed at which the newfound ‘Little Homeworld’ was constructed.

Of course, the new town would house most of the uncorrupted gems that chose to stay on the planet, and it even found itself home to a few gems previously in Pink Diamond’s court that wished to be a part of her legacy--living through Steven himself though, as they still didn’t grasp the concept of humans and hybrids quite yet. They’d get there.

A few rogue gems had one gem on edge, however--their presence and behavior too close to those she saw in spies and traitors to their cause back during the war. One gem, a pesky Iolite who didn’t want to make ‘peace talk’ one on one, Steven, don’t you see her body language, the way she’s looking at you? The malice in the indigo gem’s eyes was clear, and she wouldn’t let any more strangers come within a fifty meter radius of the house any longer.

As such, Pearl put it upon herself to stand watch while Steven slept for the following weeks as tensions settled down, just in case. It had proven to be futile as of late; no one had really come to their end of the peninsula with all the construction and disorder going on.

Pearl made her way up to Steven’s new loft room, walled off from the rest of the house to grant him more privacy. He hadn’t gotten the chance to put up most of his things yet, but somehow the room felt comforting and familiar already. His cookie cat clock read 11:54 PM.

The alabaster gem walked over to the bed in the middle of the room and found it to be empty. Just as she was about to go looking for the teenager, he appeared at the top of the staircase, ready for sleep. He looked up from fastening his buttons and immediately noticed Pearl by his bed, and gave her a smile before he spoke.

“Pearl! Are you here to tuck me in?” he asked.

“Oh!” Pearl had a slight cyan on her cheeks, having been caught; “I just wanted to see if you were already in bed, which I now see you were not.”

Steven reaches the other side of his bed and climbs in, sitting up against the headboard. “I know, I’m sorry! I was helping Amethyst out with something in Little Homeworld.”

“It’s almost midnight, Steven, you need a consistent sleep schedule! Especially with everything that’s going on right now.”

“It just went a little overtime, that’s all,” he said, sensing Pearl’s typical worry for his basic needs, “So how about that tucking in?”

Pearl calmed a bit--after all, he was getting older, and she didn’t need to harp on him for his bedtime as much anymore. She smiled and reached for his blanket.

“Just for you tonight. Lay down and get comfortable, mister!”

“Aye-aye sir!”

After Steven was fully nestled into his bed, he quickly drifted to sleep. Pearl smiled down at him, and she bent and laid a kiss on his forehead before she headed down to assume her position outside for the night.

Pearl was met with the chilled night air as she stepped outside. As she approached one of the outlying rocks, soon to be her perch for the time being, she summoned her spear and did a quick run-down of the area. Relieved that there was nothing amiss, she sat on the flat edge of the rock and watched the tide, humming to herself.

Minutes passed into an hour, and Pearl was so caught up in her impromptu-meditation session that she failed to hear a rustle in the sand behind her, and before she had time to react properly, she felt her wrist be yanked sideways. As she was lifted from her spot, her spear dropped and dematerialized.

She came face to face with the angry gaze of a quartz. “Where is Pink Diamond?”

Through her shock, Pearl gave the gem a quick run down: White’s insignia, rectangular gemstone on her chest, all black save for her grey suit and white hair. An onyx. Of course, Pearl was no stranger to fighting quartzes during the war. Despite her momentary panic, she attempted to calm herself down and get out of the situation unharmed.

“Pink Diamond isn’t around anymore. Unless you mean Steven, in which case, he is also unavailable at this moment--”

The gem yanked Pearl closer. “Why?”

“Well,” Pearl began, deciding to fib so as to not disclose any more information than she already had, “he is currently off planet. He wanted to go alone, and I don’t know where he went off to if you were planning on following him. Not that I would let you, anyhow.”

“Let me? Last time I checked that wasn’t up to the pearl to decide. I have some things I want to clear up with her and her ‘new empire’ business.”

“Well, I’m sure whatever needs to be said can be relayed through me.” Pearl growled at the gem and tugged her wrist, a signal to be let go. The onyx gripped tighter and grinned.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Onyx said as she acted faster than Pearl could think, throwing her forcefully into the rock behind her.

Pearl groaned as her back hit the solid stone, landing on her feet but staggering before regaining her footing. She summoned another spear. The onyx had summoned her weapon as well, a set of throwing knives. Immediately, the dark gem raised her arm, throwing knife after knife towards Pearl’s direction--one would surely land a hit.

Pearl took notice fast, and dodged through the storm of blades coming at her. They came in different directions from each other, making it difficult to escape in one definite direction. She blocked some with her spear, and the rest bounced off the rock.

Pearl noticed one knife just in time, and reared left to avoid it--causing the next to graze her side, and she let out a strained cry, bringing her hand to the swipe to find it come back with a small line of teal.

The onyx ceased her knife tirade, giving Pearl a moment to reground herself and thrust her spear outward towards the gem. She narrowly hit the gem straight on, the spear grazing her arm, punctuated by a low growl.

Onyx moved quick, giving Pearl less reaction time than she expected. More knives were summoned, and at close range, she thrust them out like daggers. Pearl moved to block the attack with her spear and tried to grant herself some space--she needed to keep up. Now was not the time to be out of practice.

Noticing an opening, Onyx suddenly thrust her arm out below the spear, and hit her target dead on.

“Agh!”

Hearing the scream, the dark gem widened her grin and yanked her arm back, only to grab Pearl’s spear during her distracted state and discard it on the beach. She then grabbed hold of both of Pearl’s wrists before the smaller gem could stumble forward, bringing her close.

Pearl was breathing harder than normal to will some of the pain from the wound away. She looked into the other gem’s gaze and found nothing but pure joy, and she knew that she wouldn’t get out of the situation easily.

She barely registered the feeling of being dropped, followed by her hair being grabbed, and she started to settle into the panic. Everything else was a blur until she felt the air rushing around her, her head being slammed against the stone and then a distinct crack as she screamed, and then white hot pain as she nearly passed out, falling to the ground.

The torment didn’t stop this time, and she was swiftly lifted with two hands pressing hard against her neck. Trying to call for help now would be useless--Amethyst was off in Little Homeworld, Garnet was off searching for any gems they may have missed in their initial healing session, and she didn’t even know where Bismuth, Lapis, or Peridot would be at this hour--not to mention the excruciating constriction against her throat that was tightening every second, close to severing the connection between her gem and the rest of her body.

Dissipating was near impossible now--she could only hope that someone would come by and aid her. She tried to call out anyway, unable to do much but let out a strained cry and grasp at the arms around her neck as she glitched in the onyx’s grip.

“I knew this would be fun… forget going after Pink. Her pearl will be just as fitting for revenge!” The dark gem then threw Pearl across the beach, causing her to slam into the cliffside and immediately fall to the ground, groaning.

Footsteps approached her. “Tell Pink that she can find me on Homeworld when she’s done with her excursions around the galaxy,” she said, punctuated with a final stomp of a boot against Pearl’s gem, making the pale gem choke out a cry, “And let this be a message--the Diamond hierarchy reigns over all.”

Pearl laid on the ground for a while after the gem left, unable to move beyond tensing herself against each glitch that came, the wound on her abdomen dampening against her shirt. When will the others get back…?

Another glitch came, making her tense against the soft ground. “Ghhah!”

As the night wore on, the spot in her vision overcame her, and she allowed herself to succumb to unconsciousness as she felt another glitch consume her.

Steven was always a light sleeper--ever since Lion had rudely woken him multiple times (though for a good cause, he supposed), he decided it was good for his own safety if he were to train himself to wake at the sense that something was wrong. It was fine for a while, but now that everything was peaceful for the most part, he was getting tired of the routine of waking every time he heard Cat Steven running around and mewling for food in the middle of the night.

Tonight though, he would be very glad he had the ability. He drifted into a deep sleep after Pearl tucked him in for the night, and it felt as though just a minute later he was woken up by yelling outside his window. Steven opened his eyes slowly. Who could be on the beach at this hour...?

He spent a while debating on checking out the scene or not--after all, it could just be loud tourists having a late night stroll--but he felt he should be sure, especially with the risk of hostile gems wanting to ‘talk’ to him again. That Iolite really was up to no good…

Steven finalized his decision to check out the noise and yawned, stretching. Lifting his covers, Steven got himself to his balcony and looked down--only to see a figure lying on the sand. In his sleepy state, he couldn’t make out who it was. Grumbling as this meant he had to investigate further, he slipped on his shoes and made his way down to the beach, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in the process.

As Steven approached, he noticed something… odd. The form was trembling lightly, punctuated by bouts of glitches. Just then it hit him, and he noticed the familiar teal jacket with the signature star insignia. Snapping out of his haze, his eyes widened as dread settled into his stomach and he realized who it was.

“Pearl!” Steven cried, as he ran the last bit of distance before coming upon her shaking form. Hesitant to touch her in this state, he licked a hand in preparation for what he knew he’d be greeted with. “Pearl, are you with me?”

He lifted her with his free hand to cradle her gently, and to see the extent of the damage. Gently turning her head towards him, he gasped when he saw the state of her gem--a large crack going through the middle, smaller cracks ebbing from the main one. Her face was littered with scratches, and as he moved along, he noticed her shirt was dark and damp with something foreign.

Somehow he knew exactly the connotations of such a sight, and immediately Steven prepared to heal whatever wound she was plagued with. He moved her jacket out of the way, not fully prepared to see just how bad it actually was. With extreme care, he touched his hand to the wound, and it healed quick.

Unfortunately for Pearl, however, the feeling of the wound closing so quick woke her up, and as she came to, she was hit with a fresh wave of pain coming from her gem as she tensed in Steven’s hold. One hand moved to grip Steven’s shirt as she groaned and glitched again.

“Pearl? A-are you awake?” Steven said, taking her hand off his garment and gripping it in his own hand, “I need you to tell me if there are any more wounds so I can heal them.”

Pearl opened her eyes to half-mast slowly, being met with the boy’s soft gaze. “S-Steven, I…”

“Don’t push yourself, please, Pearl, I just need you to tell me what else needs healing.”

She mumbled something. At Steven’s confused look, she pointed weakly to her gem.

“Is that it? No more wounds anywhere else?”

She nodded. “Just the cra--ah!” She said, bracing herself as another glitch washed over her. She gripped Steven’s hand with more force than he’d expected and shut her eyes tightly. The glitch lasted longer than the others, more intensity seeming to build and Pearl let out a strangled gasp as it passed.

Alarmed, Steven doubled his hold on her. “Pearl, stay with me, I need you to stay awake for me!”

“Gh--hhah--”

“Okay! I need my hand to heal it, I’m going to let go now.” At this, she nodded tensely, and let her hand leave his grip in favor of clutching her jacket as the final wave of the glitch passed. Steven pulled his hand to his mouth to lick it again, and immediately pressed it to Pearl’s gem.

She was tense as the magic worked, and Steven could feel the pain wash out of her muscles as the cracks disappeared and she closed her eyes, letting herself fall asleep.

Once the gem was smooth, Steven looked it over for any missed spots, but found nothing. Pearl was resting, limp, in his hold. Choosing not to disturb her, he scooped her up to transfer her inside the house and onto the couch for the night.

The next morning, Steven was woken by the feeling of something sitting on the edge of his bed. Opening his eyes, he was met with Pearl’s face looking down at him and smiling. The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“G’morning, Pearl.”

“Morning, Steven. Did you rest well?”

Steven rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Yeah! Did… were you comfortable last night, on the couch? I didn’t want to disturb you after you fell asleep…”

“Yes. I actually wanted to say thank you, for last night… I thought I’d be out there alone until the morning.”

“I’m glad I woke up and found you when I did… I don't want to think about the what-ifs, though. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

With this, Steven found himself engulfed in a hug. “I am too. I’m sorry you had to see it, though.”

“Nothing I’m not used to by now.”

The two stayed in the embrace for a bit longer, until Steven was broken from it by the promise of a pancake breakfast, made special by Pearl with his help. Soon after they finished the last batch, Amethyst warped in just on time to eat the leftover mess (and definitely at last half of the pancakes). Garnet joined them not long after with a small nod to the other three at the table, allowing the four of them to sit and relax for the rest of the day, stress-free.

#fic #steven universe #pearl #steven quartz #rae.txt

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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years

Text

Lightning Strikes -- Part Fifteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader (Series)

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,102

Format: Series WIP

Warning: Angst, language, more Loki.

Summary: You try to get a straight answer out of Loki about what is happening to you. Loki doesn’t totally lie his ass off, for once.

A/N: Loki strikes again and derails my plans for this story. The human tendency for dual-mindedness is an amazing thing. Knowing that I’m in control of all of this does not in any way lessen the feeling that Loki is an active participant in the writing process with his own agenda. He’s such a pain in my ass. The point is that I was planning to move on from Loki, and back to Thor (finally) but Loki’s not having it, apparently. Ugh. Prima donna.

<Lightning Strikes -- Part Fourteen here

Caustic

When you awoke a couple hours later, you found yourself laying along Loki's side, your head pillowed on the once again pale skin of his chest. With one arm, he cradled you easily against his still cold body, but in his other hand he held a book. Propped up against the mound of pillows at the head of his bed, he looked so serene in this moment, you found yourself reluctant to disturb him.

Loki was feeling serene, content in a way he couldn't ever remember feeling before. Such things weren't generally in his nature, but the sensation of your body resting against his in sleep was both sweet and satisfying. Regardless of your exhaustion, he knew you would never allow yourself this vulnerability unless you trusted him, at least, to not harm you. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He'd been more honest with you today than he had been with anyone in a long time. When you'd lost your temper the moment you'd laid eyes on him, it had taken everything he had to keep silent and still. He'd felt oddly obligated, however, to let you vent your anger; he couldn't deny you had a right to far more than merely a few slaps. Keeping that in the forefront of his mind had made it easier to bear the brunt of your hatred.

What made it most difficult was that he'd wanted you the moment he'd opened the door to see you, all of you, standing on the other side. With the real, whole you looking out at him, all he could imagine was placing his lips on yours, breathing your breath. Holding himself back from snatching you up into his arms, stopping himself from using the cold to seduce you into moaning mindlessness, had been excruciating. Loki was not used to denying himself what he wanted. Only the way he felt about you, the twinge of remorse he felt at the things he had done to you, restrained him.

He had been utterly sincere when he'd expressed both empathy and remorse for your heartbreak. He had no interest seeing you hurt, had genuinely not cared how you amused yourself with your boyfriends. Even should you choose to extend that amusement out for the length of their lifetimes, the prospect didn't give him pause. Loki had plans for the two of you that would take decades to come to fruition. He had plenty of time.

He felt the change in your body signaling the end of your nap and his reprieve. He wondered how you'd surprise him now.

"Oh. Boo." You murmured it, the dismay ripe in your voice, when his gaze flicked from his book to you, emerald green caressing your face. "The Pretty Lying Bastard is back."

"What does that mean, my love?" He couldn't stop himself from smiling at the acerbic tone to your voice. He’d always liked you best when you were strong and sarcastic.

The smile fell from his lips when you pushed yourself to a sitting position, bringing yourself closer to eye level with him. You turned to fix him with a bleary-eyed, yet still suspicious glare. "I like Loki better blue and honest," you replied, your voice rough from sleep, but utterly serious in tone.

"The two are not related." As often happened, Loki's mood flipped, and his voice turned dark and cold. You ignored it, merely lifting a brow in response, unafraid of his moods or whims. You had seen the bottom of the well of grief. Loki had no more power to harm you mentally or emotionally and he was entirely too concerned with your well-being to be willing to harm you physically. You wondered if you were building an immunity to his poison.

Even if you were, it didn’t change all of the other things tearing at your heart. You sighed, still heartsick at the loss of your boys, certain you still would be in those thousand years. You knew now why you'd been so certain you couldn't resist Loki. Not because you lacked the willpower, or the inclination, but the incentive.

Part of you had known you couldn't keep them, had acknowledged it even as you'd ignored that the potion had destroyed that chance; you'd wanted that life badly enough to lie to yourself. You couldn't blame Loki when you'd known better from the beginning but had ignored what you didn’t want to see.

"I never thought for a moment that they were." Your lips curved slightly, and your tone remained mild, though the melancholy was an undercurrent to every word. You were calm and cool once more. Whether that was the cold, the purge of emotion, the nap, or a combination of all three you weren't sure and didn't care. All that mattered was that you were back in control.

"Get off your high horse,” you sneered as you rolled your eyes and snagged one of the fifteen or so blankets tossed across the bed. Reclining against the pillows next to him, you went on airily, "The only two times I've seen your blue form was when I was about to die. It's not my fault that makes you feel guilty enough to stop lying for five damn minutes." As you spoke, you covered up and got comfortable, intending to get as much information as possible out of Loki while he still had that guilt nipping at his memory.

"What is this?" You tilted your head when Loki tossed his book aside as he turned to his side to face you, propping his head on one hand. The nonchalant way you reacted to his true form made him tremble deep inside. He ignored the feeling, telling himself he’d think about it later. He’d much rather focus on the casual demeanor you’d adopted now.

"This is not humor," as he spoke his eyes searched your face, seeking to understand what mood you’d come to, "nor is it hate." His hand came up, fingers whispering across your cheek as his lips curved slightly. "I hope it isn't surrender."

Your hand came up to swat his away. "Shut up." When his grin flashed, your eyes narrowed. "This is a détente, a temporary truce while I recuperate." Now that you weren't exhausted, you were having a harder time ignoring the cold beckoning from Loki's body.

The sensation of his fingers on your skin had pleasure immediately singing in your mind; you'd had to knock his hand away, too easily swayed by the cold. You could still feel it emanating from his body, even through the space between you, and the temptation to coil and curve around him was painful. "I am so angry at you, Loki." Your voice was hot and harsh with banked rage, but you didn't know if you spoke to inform him or remind yourself.

"As well you should be," Loki replied, his eyes glittering. The urge to touch you was nigh overwhelming, but you'd made your preference clear. "I have been callous with you, thoughtlessly cruel.” That glitter softened with what looked like real remorse. “I am sorry, my love. I… miscalculated.”

"And that is the reason for the détente." You sneered, thinking his choice of words was telling. That it sounded like a 'sorry you got offended' kind of apology made it easy to brush aside. "You are, at least, saying that you're sorry. Even if you don't mean it, it’s a pleasant lie.”

Loki's eyes flashed in what looked a lot like hurt and insult, and you felt guilty for being cruel. The next moment, you were swamped by a wave of resentment at the very idea that you should feel guilty for anything when it came to Loki.

The mood swings were swiftly making you tired all over again. You sighed, certain you wouldn’t get a straight answer but needing to try. “Why, Loki? Why did you do this to me? I could have been happy with my boyfriends,” you used his snotty intonation on the word, “for a normal, human lifetime and never looked back.”

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, impatient with the very idea. “I’m making you a goddess and you’re complaining about lost nights in front of the television with the soldiers.”

“Well, we do TV night a little different,” you purred smugly, testing his statement regarding jealousy even as your heart ached.

The arched brow he shot your way as he put his arms behind his head told you he knew to what you were referring. You, Steve, and Bucky hadn’t yet made it through a movie without someone’s wandering hands diverting everyone’s attention. You wondered which evening he’d peeked on; their couch had been the site of any number of deliciously debauched scenes, the fulfillment of your fantasy regarding Steve in your mouth while Bucky fucked you from behind, for instance.

“Yes," he said, amused, "I have inadvertently checked on you while you were occupied with your boyfriends." His face spread in a mischievous, appreciative grin. "You are… enthusiastic, and highly entertaining.”

“Pervert.”

Loki frowned, not at the insult, but at the mild tones and almost affectionate smile with which you softened it. You'd decided to try a more conciliatory attitude, for the moment at least, in the hopes that you could charm him into giving you more information on your current predicament.

Rather than approach your confusing mood directly, Loki opted to go along with it. “If you were in my shoes," he retorted, turning back to his side to face you, one arm under his head, one arm coming down to drape over his waist, a smile starting to play around his lips, "and you happened upon a scene such as that, tell me you would have turned and left immediately.” The mocking doubt in his tone made it clear what answer he expected.

Your lips twitched as you deliberately drug your eyes from the fascinating play of muscle in his arms and chest as he moved, turning to your side to blink at Loki, your expression innocent as a summer sky. “Of course I would.” Your voice could not have been more surprised, as though you were shocked at the very idea that you would violate someone's privacy, even for a moment.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. When you'd turned your face to his, the sweetness of having you, the whole you, in his bed rocketed through him so that he couldn't look away. You were gazing into him with such intensity, he couldn't help but wonder what you saw when you looked at him.

“Liar.”

His voice held such a wealth of offense in that one quiet word, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He was right; you probably wouldn’t have stopped watching right away, either, no matter how your conscience complained.

The sight of you dissolving into laughter made his heart flutter in his chest. He'd missed you more than he liked to admit. He wasn't entirely certain he hadn't ended the spell simply because he couldn't stand being without you another moment.

“Besides, it was more entertaining than watching Thor mope around about you, again, still." He dismissively waved the hand not under his head, but you could swear you caught a touch of censure in his gaze and wondered at it. "Are you ever going to put him out of my misery and end it, once and for all? Or are you going to keep him on a lead for the foreseeable future?"

"I'm not keeping hi--" You cut yourself off, knowing he was trying to draw you into an argument, but unwilling to oblige when you saw no reason for it, especially when you didn’t have the high ground. "That’s bait." You said it firmly, determined to not get sidetracked. You had far more important things to discuss with Loki and your relationship with his brother was not one of them, if for no other reason than it was none of his business. "Go back to the part where you’re ‘making me a goddess.’ The fuck does that mean?"

Loki was amused, but mostly with himself. He'd considered you formidable when you still somewhat trusted him. Now that he'd lost that tenuous faith, you were that much more difficult to distract. Nothing less than a measure of the truth would satisfy you in this mood. He shrugged inwardly; it wasn't as though you hadn't more than earned it.

"On Jotunheim," he sighed, reluctantly, "they have their own goddesses." You felt as though every atom of your body was focused on Loki. You could hear the ring of truth in his voice and wondered if you'd finally reached something real. You could see in his eyes the shine of genuine emotion, and you'd swear it looked like pain. "The tears of a goddess of ice, of grief, from a land of perpetual winter, are the foundation of the potion I gave you."

He continued to lay, lazily indolent, even as you lifted to a sitting position, though he rolled to his back to keep facing you. You stared at him, propped against overstuffed pillows, amongst the lush green silk and golden velvet indulgence of his bed, looking as relaxed as any pampered prince, but you could see the tension in the fine tremor almost hidden in the flutter of his eyelashes. He smiled in an attempt to mask the nerves he felt at the look on your face, irritation flaring your nostrils.

"Loki." You closed your eyes in sheer frustration. Even when Loki seemed to be telling the truth, he had to be overdramatic about it. "Will you, please," the word held an ocean of repressed aggravated rage, "stop dicking around for five fucking minutes and tell me what’s fucking happening to me?"

Loki could tell by the increase in your Fucks Per Minute that you were at the edge of your patience. His eyes unfocused as he remembered a world scoured by ice, where he'd found his own loss and betrayal. He lifted his hand to trace the line of your jaw in regret for how he'd treated you. "'A drop, and an hour is a day. My Lady's tears slow the fastest fluttering heart.'" When your jaw locked and your eyes widened in the first red flag that you were five seconds away from losing your temper again, Loki spoke quickly to head off your rage. He was concerned that another bout of either fury or tears would break you entirely.

"The truth, my love, is that I’m not entirely sure." He held up his hands in surrender, trying to keep you calm as he explained. "If I had been the first and only person to touch you after you took the potion, things would have been very different. Instead…" He shrugged and put those hands behind his head, trailing off rather than mention, yet again, your habit for unpredictability.

You ignored him, your frustration forgotten as your mind clicked into gear, making logical leaps and connecting dots of information. "Thor," you murmured as you thought of the night you took the potion, the memory of Thor's glowing eyes and the feeling of electricity dancing over the surface of your skin, your heart racing in response. Your eyes lifted and narrowed on Loki's face, still on guard against a lie. "The lightning."

Loki loved watching your mind work, adored seeing how easily you grasped what he didn't say, though the quickness of your brain caused him no end of trouble. It was abundantly clear how little you trusted him, though he could hardly blame you for it. Still, he missed the days when you’d both enjoyed the playfully adversarial tone of your friendship, hated that you now found his presence painful.

He could also see clearly how difficult he would find it to convince you of any of that. Thanks to that agile mind, the excuses and rationalizations he could offer for why he acted both for you, but also, admittedly, in his own self-interest, would fail to persuade, no matter how silver-tongued he was purported to be. He reminded himself that he had a very long time to worm his way back into your good graces, however, starting with a little honesty.

"You are becoming a goddess," he explained, adoring the expression of reluctant fascination moving over your face, "mostly of ice, but you may need more than cold to become everything you could be." He loved how you listened to everything he both said and didn't say and wondered when you'd come back to the part about a 'goddess of grief', worried about when you'd connect that to some of the other things he'd done.

Loki's mouth spread in a charmingly wicked grin when you shot him a suspicious look, unsure he was saying what you thought when it seemed like exactly the kind of thing he would lie about, but rather to hide the information, not reveal it. He seemed to be suggesting that you seek out Thor's lightning the way you sought his own cold. You didn't get a chance to think further about it, however, because he was suddenly surging upward to take your shoulders in his icy hands.

"My turn," he growled, emerald green piercing as his gaze searched your face. "Why didn’t you have the oaf break the spell?" He spoke quickly, while you grappled with the other things he'd confessed, in the hopes that he could catch you off guard.

You blinked at him, surprised by the question, though you'd wondered if he'd suspected you'd been planning on going to Thor as a last resort. You decided to give him the very thing he hoarded like gold, the unvarnished truth, despite how vulnerable it made you feel. "I didn’t want to have to escape. I wanted you to let me go."

Loki's hands tightened around your shoulders, an angry scowl darkening his features as he pulled your face closer to his. "Why?"

The harsh tone to his voice, hurt barely masked by confusion, softened your fury with him by an iota. It was enough that you continued to give him the truth, despite knowing it would only encourage him. You sighed, irritated with yourself for being too easily swayed where your heart was engaged. "Because I wanted to be able to forgive you someday."

The grip Loki had around your upper arms loosened in surprise. As soon as he was no longer holding you upright, you let yourself fall back onto the bed. You lay against the mound of pillows, throwing your arm over your eyes to hide, whether from Loki or yourself you weren't sure anymore.

You lay there, in silence, tired, heartbroken, and frustrated with the both of you. You didn't know who was irritating you more at the moment, Loki for being Loki or yourself for being entirely too susceptible to him. Between the love you couldn't kill and the cold you couldn't resist, you couldn't make yourself get out of the damn bed and leave already. Hell, at this point, you weren't certain whether the cold or the man held more allure for you. Either way, you couldn't find it in yourself to walk away.

The cold alone was nearly irresistible, especially after such a long time between treatments. You wondered if the potion had given you an addiction to the arctic sensations that ran over your skin every time he touched you. If so, you were afraid you were a full-blown junkie, and Loki was, unfortunately, your dealer.

Also like a drug, something about the cold made you feel better, even from a distance. You studiously ignored the voice in your mind that suggested it would feel better if you got closer.

You made yourself stay in place, refused to allow yourself to turn to Loki for comfort, to let him touch you. You knew better, knew that taking comfort from him was dangerous territory, the first step to allowing yourself to trust him. Trusting Loki, even a little, was the fastest way to ruin. You knew all of that, but the seemingly genuine remorse, seemingly genuine pain, was lowering your defenses.

That Loki seemed genuine in general made you wonder if you'd finally gotten something resembling truth for once. Attempting to distract yourself from the ache around your heart at the thought, you tried to catalogue what Loki had told you versus what you believed to be the truth beneath it.

According to Loki, and your gut that he was being honest in this one case, you needed the cold to stay alive. And, as heartbroken as you were, grieving the end of your love affair with Steve and Bucky, you wanted to stay alive.

You'd also learned that Loki's potion had not gone according to his original plan, thanks to your drunken shenanigans, though he was being annoyingly vague as to how. You couldn't be even a little sad to hear it, no matter how it complicated things. You much preferred it, and him, when he wasn’t entirely in command of a situation.

Your occasional penchant for contrariness had also given you unexpected leverage against Loki in this battle of wits and wills. He'd tried to sideline his brother at the beginning of the game, but you'd found a way put him back in, intentionally or not. If you knew Thor at all, and you did, he'd be delighted to be the stick you used to beat Loki over the head. The part that puzzled you was why Loki had admitted to it.

Almost everything Loki had said and done over the course of this strange afternoon puzzled you, actually. Though you had often suspected him of half-truths during the course of your confrontations, you didn't get the impression that he had straight-up lied at any point. You knew him to be a dangerously accomplished liar, however, so you couldn't be sure that he hadn't simply succeeded in deceiving you.

Whatever he might believe, he had not succeeded in deceiving you regarding the importance of his admission that the potion had farther reaching effects than simply extending your life. You had no doubt now that he had far more ambitious plans for you than he was willing to admit. He had no need to make a goddess of one he only wanted as a pet.

Loki's sigh of sadness broke your concentration, but you didn't move your arm from where it hid your eyes from his frustratingly impenetrable gaze. You reminded yourself that you had plenty of time now, both for self-reflection and for discovering and foiling Loki's plots and schemes.

Right now, it all sounded exhausting.

"I have a confession," Loki said, softly. He paused, unsure, until you uncovered your face and looked at him, your expression serious, but calm. "I have to admit that I lied earlier.” The sheepish grin that touched his mouth would have amused you once.

“You?" You gasped slightly, laying your hand over your heart, the sarcasm thick. "Lied? Say it ain’t so.”

He continued to smile, though the corners were touched with the same sadness that you'd heard in his sigh. You realized, as your heart hurt a little in response, that it didn't seem to matter how angry you were with him, you still didn't like to see him in pain.

Loki laid down next to you on his back, the ache in his throat making it too difficult to look at you any longer. The sight of you amongst the pillows and blankets of his bed where he'd had you over and over again, yet still as untouchable to him as ever, cut him to the quick. He didn't know how to tell you, or if he even should, that he'd do it differently, perhaps be more honest with you, if he had it to do over again.

He pushed that thought aside. He didn't believe in looking behind him, long ago accepting that there was no going back, only forward, damn the consequences.

“I am a little jealous of your boyfriends." You thought he was using his mockingly bored tone at first and considered hitting him for bringing up Steve and Bucky again. You turned your head, a sneer forming on your face until you saw he was studiously not looking at you, keeping his gaze on the ceiling above him. "I only touched the shell." Your eyes narrowed at the wistful sound to his voice. "They get all of you. I cannot help but wonder what that’s like.”

“Take your other form and I’ll show you.”

Lightning Strikes -- Part Sixteen here> (Coming soon!!)

Taglist:

@lbouvet @rocknroll-is-thewaytogo @chook007 @quickies-with-quicksilver @deinopis @daylight-saver @rishlo @pebblesz892 @bibliophile1773 @bojabee @knightofreaders @pancake-pages @666nunslut666 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @lilulo-12 @tabbytyler @sunigyrl @suz-123 @cheekygeek05 @hellzzzbelle @jewels2876 @innerpaperexpertcloud @irritated-bisexual @miraclesoflove @fashionworld12 @elsasshole @rose-01 @maeleeme @diinofayce @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97

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rphelperblog · 2 years

Text

Crave Series Rp Meme

“He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.”

“I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.”

“Everyone answers to me...eventually.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game.”

“Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.”

“It tugs at something deep inside me, makes me wonder, when I never wonder. Makes me want, when I never want.”

“There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.”

“If You Can’t Live Without Me, Why Aren’t You Dead Yet?”

“I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.”

“It’s written all over his face—he would disintegrate anyone—everyone—if it means saving me. He would literally set fire to the world.”

“Actions have consequences. Mistakes get made. Hearts get broken.”

“If You're Not Living on the Edge, You're Taking Up Too Much Space”

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“We needed each other. We were both in pain, and we filled an emptiness we didn’t know how to fill on our own.”

“Landing Is Just Throwing Yourself at the Ground and Hoping You Don’t Miss

“Indescribable. Unfathomable. Delicious.”

“This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she's up way past her bedtime, but she just can't put the story down.”

“Not when the last time he was happy, he was plotting a hostile takeover of half the paranormal world.”

“You wound me. It was at least three-quarters.”

“... falling over the edge of the world together.”

“Always, baby. Whatever you need.”

“But now, as I stand here, surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I finally understand what it means to rule with compassion. With dignity. With love.”

“Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn't have any kind of vested interest...sometimes it doesn't hurt so much.”

“Some Days Life's a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It's Just the Pits.”

“There's not much to be afraid of when you've already lost everything that matters”

“I’ve read everything on my Kindle,”

“It is time to go home, my love.”

“You wear reckless like French women wear lipstick. Subtle some days, red hot on other, but always, always, always essential.”

“And the villain fades away into obscurity, never to be seen or heard from again…”

“A Tempest rising, without fail.”

“The vampire hat is a really nice touch.”

“I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.”

“We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.”

“He's got the manners of a rabid polar bear”

“Words absolutely no normal person has ever wanted to hear,”

“I thought a stake through the heart is what killed vampires, not—”

“I Like Standing on My Own Two Feet, but Getting Swept Off Them Feels Surprisingly Good, Too”

“You’re more than you think you are,”

“But being able to fool people into thinking you have character isn’t the same as actually having character.”

“When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school? Gross. And so not happening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t imagine what world he’s talking about, considering I’m currently living in the middle of a fantasy novel.”

“Biggest fear: Ending up alone because I’ll always love the wrong person. Is that too deep? How about “the ocean.” We have no idea what’s down there. I don’t trust that shit.”

“When I hit on you, it'll be because you want me to. And we'll both know exactly what's going on when I do. “

“Books are fascinating and fun.”

“it would, which, in my mind, proves the theory that you hold on until the other person pulls away because you never know what they’re going through and if they need the comfort.”

“Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.” ‘

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years

Text

@mynameisanakin {{xx}}

He knows. Just doesn’t want to admit to it, and that she absolutely understands. There is something absolutely terrifying about bearing your deeper truths, whether its sex or fears or things you aren’t exactly proud of. Which is essentially why she asked the question. She wasn’t trying to make him jump out of his skin, but more to see how he handled something so out of left field, but she now has to admit the look on his face makes her curious. The struggle between unvarnished truth and a comfortable lie doesn’t sit well on him. There’s also...it isn’t a blatant fear but something that shadows the arches of his cheeks, takes the depths of his eyes and makes them more pronounced until she’s reminded of nothing so much as twin blue flames inside the eye sockets of a skull. Entrancing is a word but not the one she’s searching for. It’s maybe...maybe he gives her too much credit. She could put him at ease and explain she hasn’t got Mind, that she can’t pry a portal into his head and draw out his secrets. That was never her forte` although maybe she could go about it a slightly different way. Carefully balance his serotonin and dopamine levels and...

And she feels guilty before he’s said more than two words, because wow. That’s taking things a little too far. She makes herself trail from his face to his hands. Watches the tapered fingers as if that’s any better, there was a reason she’d looked away from them before. It’s distracting bordering on criminal. Even she has to admit, and noticed from the get-go, that he has beautiful hands. Painfully so. Hands that should belong to a surgeon or a musician or a specific kind of model. Especially when she’s got a bottle of Live Love Polish upstairs in this gorgeous electric blue and holographic glitter that she has not a single trouble imagining on him. But before she can get too far down that rabbit hole ~and not imagine a spa day shared between them~ he finally starts talking and she blinks once, twice, and makes a bee-line for his lips, to catch the words carefully. Thankfully Anakin doesn’t talk very fast. And at first she thinks she mishears him but no, out of his angelic face... those two words that...oh. dear. And then...he explains it. Because he can’t quite put her in the realm of knowing such things, or maybe he thinks she’s a little dumb, which she’s used to. She is grateful to the very universe itself that she didn’t have a mouthful of wine right then...or it would be all over the rug, the upholstery, even all over Anakin. She brings her hand up quickly to cup over her mouth just in case she’s mistaken, but no...nothing comes out.

Its a slow creep effect. Snail and moss slow. Enveloping with horror when it finally does occur to her that he shouldn’t know a thing about this. He should be worried about getting the weekend off and taking his person on a date. He should be worried about making the dean’s list ~Anakin is so very far from stupid, he’d be any college’s dream if he applied himself~ and suddenly she can hear a thousand generations of her ancestors rolling their eyes and so she slowly nods not knowing if she wants to beg him to stop, or keep going. Anakin, fortunately, bears no witness to this, and opts for the later.

A tick develops at the back of her eye because that quiet surface belied quite deep waters, it seems. And it’s increasingly disturbing because she can’t quite tell if he’s talking fantasies or actual history of his...ah...exploits? She doesn’t like that word. It feels...dirty. Wrong. Almost worse than what she’s hearing. The tip of her tongue darts out and slicks over suddenly dry lips, and she doesn’t realise it’s because her mouth was already parted and she had dragged in a lungful of air. She almost regrets asking. Not because the darkness that slithers around him, drawing light from the room itself, dimming the already faint gleam of lamps and candles, but people don’t come this way, not usually and the insight she is getting is as excruciating as the lack of any characteristics in his voice, how he puts himself on this kind of display. He is comfortable with these thoughts, too familiar with them so that they don’t really...

She can feel it.

Ghostly brushes of those fingers she was a moment ago admiring fluttering around the delicate ridges of her collar bones so close to the surface of her skin. Tracing their edges, thumb dipping into the tiny space between them and she doesn’t realise she sighs softly. The way the whorls and loops slide along her skin until his nails unmanicured and just this side of ragged ~is he a biter~ gaze the back of her neck. The slightest, slowest increase of pressure that she has to admit makes little flutters below her belly. Then...tighter. And tighter. Pinprick motes of light dancing in front of her eyes, the pressure as she can’t take another breath. A whisper of panic, something that is remarkably close to fear... the urge to kick. Struggle. Flail until she is free. Pain from capillaries bursting in her eyes. Sensations of dizziness or falling and she can’t tell if its that terrible. If she can just let.... She shakes her head to dislodge the phantom sensations, bringing up every ounce of willpower to bear because...he didn’t mean it. Reliving those moments inside his head, something he must connect to so powerfully that she felt the writhe and twist of his avatar, the magick making itself manifest and honestly she’s absolutely stunned. The taste of power sits like salt and lime on the back of her tongue. She can’t simply just sit there though, and shifts in her spot, drawing her knees up to her chest, and settling her feet on the cushion, leaving only her toes exposed by the hem of her skirt on the edge of her chair. And yet. She doesn’t stop him. Not because she has a ghoulish need to hear the rest of what he has to say, but because like a wound, he needs to expose it to sunlight and air if he has any chance of recovering from any of this.

She takes a sip of her wine when he falls silent, not wanting to seem pushy, though, thinking maybe this was the extent of it. And she’s absolutely wrong, isn’t she?

What he tells her next is far different. Lacking those details that he’s removed himself from, put distance between, gives her far more room to imagine without complicating things with a lashing out even subconsciously of his magick. No, the effect on her is purely psychological on her end and the guilt of that wends its way up her spine following the heat that spreads out through her limbs. Her toes curl on the edge of her seat

As is common for most of her Tradition, Beth has a high thresh hold as far as pain is concerned, is equally blessed a spark of life so tenacious that wounds and illness are practically strangers to her, particularly the kind that are self inflicted. And she might just have a fondness for blades that exceeds what is normally accepted by societal standards. But what did anyone expect from a barefoot heathen, a child of earth and wood and sea, with the blood of sharks in her ancestry? Anakin can’t possibly know any of this or how the idea of shallow lacework across her skin enthralls her, the red smear and heat. The coppery tang and sharpness on the tongue. How she can feel her body respond wantonly especially when she can physically recall the sensations of Marion’s breath hot on the soft flesh of her thigh just before the creature’s teeth sink in. Tear greedy chunks of muscle from her bones until it’s hunger is sated. Her writhes, the screaming seems to feed the rougarou too, though she doesn’t know how or why, and the exhaustion afterwards usually provides some of the best sleep Beth has gotten since....

Since moving here.

When her eyes struggle to catch his, she isn’t aware of the faint sheen on the exposed skin of her throat and modest decolletage, or that her eyes have darkened considerably. That she would blame the wine for a new floridness to her complexion. “I...ah.” She uncurls her limbs, long for her small stature, the hem of her skirt whispering louder than her voice as it settles around her ankles. She prowls behind around behind him, settles her hands on either side of his shoulders. Leans in so that her lips are close to his ears, and her tone as well as her breath is a little ragged. “Mahalo, Anakin. But I t’ink...I t’ink is time...I show ya some kine. Only question is....jus’ how far ya willin’ t’ go?”

#Mahalo!Anakin <333 #Like A Sad Hallucination|Anakin Skywalker #Like A Memory in Motion|Anakin and Beth #The Trunk You Kept Your Life In|Mage The Ascension #Crescent City Blues|Nola AU #tw: choking #tw: blood #tw: cannibalism #Sort of.#tw: mental health

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shes-soparticular · 5 years

Text

Slow Burn

We just dance backwards into each other Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered You touch me and it’s almost like we knew That there will be history

A/N: So I’ve already done a couple of “Shawn & Alex” one-shots that people have seemed to enjoy. Therefore, I wanted to do a longer origin story. This is part 1 of ????. Let’s just say SEVERAL.

Word Count: 1903

The first time he lays eyes on her, his heart stops. It’s so cliché, he knows that, but he’ll swear for the rest of his life that this was love at first sight. Even if he didn’t understand in that moment. Even if he hadn’t the slightest clue of what this woman, this stranger, would come to mean to him. That this girl across the bar in her vintage Tom Petty t-shirt, peeling the label off of her Amstel while saying something to earn a hearty laugh from the bartender, that this girl would become his entire world. Right now, all he knows for certain is that there’s something about her that makes it impossible for him to stop staring. Maybe it’s the way her hair frames her face in wild waves, the kind that can only come from rolling out of bed late. It could be the sound of her laugh, floating all the way across the room, soft and warm. When she turns and holds his gaze, her eyes locking with his, his breath catches in his chest. He’s never seen eyes like hers, the way they’re searching his, as if seeing deeper than the surface. Nervously and with a blush crawling across his cheeks, he looks away, pretending to be busy with his phone. But he can still feel her eyes on him and he can’t resist looking up once more. She cocks one eyebrow in his direction and nods her head to the side, motioning for him to come over to her. Again, his heart stops. Why in the hell is he this worked up over some girl across the bar? Some girl he’s never even seen before? He desperately wants to play it cool, wants to have the upper hand and pretend he wasn’t gawking at her like a teenaged boy. But his feet carry him in her direction before he can stop himself and all he can keep repeating internally is not to make a fool out of himself. Be cool, be cool, be cool. When he makes it to her side, she smiles up at him from her bar stool, patting the one next to her. Her lips part and he can’t stop from considering what they’d feel like against his own. “If you’re going to keep staring at me, you might as well join me for a drink.” There’s a playful attitude in her voice, attached to an American accent. He can’t quite place it off hand, but he’d guess she’s from the North. Maybe not that far from the border, considering the way she pronounces some of her o’s. It’s not until her eyes start to widen that he realizes she’s waiting for him to speak. Why can’t he think of a single thing to say? What the hell happened to his backbone in the last five minutes?

Finally, his mouth manages to reconnect to his brain, his hand coming up to rub at his shoulder. A nervous tick he hopes she doesn’t notice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to stare. I thought I recognized you.” Good save, Shawn. “Have we met before?” He settles on to the seat next to her, their knees practically touching.

“I don’t think we have,” She smiles brightly at him, “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know who you are.” She starts to hum Stitches and he can feel his cheeks grow even hotter. Exactly what he wants, for this beautiful girl to associate him with his fifteen-year-old self. She reads the look on his face and lets out a flustered laugh. “Oh god, was that out of line? I love that song, I swear I wasn’t being pretentious.” She looks genuinely sheepish, a pink hue advancing across her own cheeks. “I should have hummed Lost in Japan instead, way to go, Alex.” There’s a flash of vulnerability to her and it puts him at ease.

“Oh, so you’re a fan, Alex?” He says this in more of a self-satisfied tone than he intended, with an air of coltish arrogance. It’s clear that she picks up on it, but only smiles above her beer bottle before throwing back the last of it.

“You could say that I’m recently converted,” She momentarily turns her eyes to the bartender, motioning for another round. “But I’m actually here in a professional capacity. You could say that you’re my boss, in a way.” Okay, if he wasn’t intrigued already, now she’s really gotten every last bit of his attention. His eyebrow raises, waiting for further explanation. “I’m Alex Marron, Travel Operations Manager.” Shawn really doesn’t want to admit to her that he has no clue what that means. At the end of the day, as long as he makes it on stage, that’s the only part of tour he can truly be held accountable for. He lets everyone else handle the nitty gritty with their capable hands. Which, yes, he feels a little guilty for…especially now in this moment as he struggles to make sense of what she means.

“I’m going to make an asshole out of myself, so I apologize in advance, but…please explain?” His question is accompanied by a nervous laugh, the next round of beers arriving just at the right second. Grabbing his, he takes a long drink, praying it will calm his nerves.

“I’m here on behalf of the company that handles all of the logistical matters for your tour – hotels, busses, private event space, location scouting.” She licks her lips and again and he loses his train of thought for a second. “I’m just here to make sure you all get from point a to point b without any headaches. In a nutshell. Sort of assisting Cez in that way.”

He nearly coughs on his beer, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them. “Meaning you’ll be joining us on tour the entire leg?” So he’d be seeing her every day? For the next two months? Great. Plenty of time to make a bigger fool of himself.

“And beyond. As of now, I’m contracted for all of 2019.” She clinks her beer bottle against his before tipping it back to her lips. “Now, I just need to not fuck up.” Her last statement is sighed under her breath, an anxious grain to her voice.

“I don’t know you, yet, Alex…but I think you’ll kill it.” He reaches up to give her playful, faux punch to the shoulder…and as soon as he does it, he kicks himself internally. Why not just call her slugger, too? God, for a heartthrob his game was sadly lacking. Granted, now that it’d been made clear she was essentially on his staff (he hated referring to anyone that way), it wasn’t like he could really pursue anything with her anyways. If he even had a chance to begin with, he hates to just assume as much.

“Thanks, coach.” Her laugh has this tender quality to it, the type that tells him she’s laughing with him and not at him. That this is simply the creation of their first inside joke. If only he knew then how many nights they’d spend wrapped in one another, laughing about everything and nothing at all. The feeling of her giggles vibrating through her throat and into his chest. “You know, I find hotel bars kind of depressing. Would you…want to come somewhere with me? I mean, I don’t know if you’re allowed to just – “ He cuts her off so fast that he even surprises himself.

“Let’s go.”

He follows her through the streets of Amsterdam, hood up and sunglasses on even though the sun has long since dipped in the sky. He’s already given in to hours of photos that day and right now, he just wants to be a normal guy trying to get to know a normal girl. It appears as though the world is willing to at least grant him that simple wish and no one pays them much attention as they wind through the cobblestone streets. They make idle chatter along the way, pointing out different sights and bringing up anecdotes of their prior travels within the city. He learns quickly that Alex is nearly as well traveled as he is, except of course that she’s had the time and ability to actually experience the destinations she’s been to. He can’t stop from picturing himself in her narratives, following her eagerly as he does now. Her hair flowing behind her, smiling over her shoulder at him, the final vestiges of sunlight reflecting off of her skin. Eventually, they find their way inside of a quaint coffee shop, the combination of marijuana smoke and espresso beans filling the air. They find a table in the back and it isn’t long until they’re one shared joint and two cups of coffee in. Simultaneously loosened up and caffeine buzzed, they both talk excitedly about whatever passing thoughts occur to them. She admits she hasn’t seen all of the Harry Potter movies; he pretends to get up to leave. He admits he hasn’t heard the latest Hozier album; she pretends to choke on her coffee. They cover topics from their favorite childhood memories to their biggest high school embarrassments to the excruciating details of their first times. He learns that she’s a few years older hence being far enough along in her career to manage operations for such a large-scale tour. Although, she swears she lucked out a bit when her superior went on maternity leave and that normally she probably wouldn’t be traveling along for the length of tour but that her company was courting Island for a larger contract. She reveals that she calls Chicago home but only roots for Boston’s sports teams. He cringes outwardly at her mention of the Bruins, which earns his first ever eye roll from her (of which he’ll go on to receive thousands). There are a couple of heated disputes about pancakes versus waffles and who the best Marvel character is. Ultimately, the conversation settles between them as if they’re old friends, picking up where they left off. Somewhere between competing to see who can attract the attention of the resident cafe cat and who can make a better smoke ring, closing time approaches and they’re cast back out on to the street. It’s after one in the morning and Shawn knows he’s going to catch some flack for staying out late the night before rehearsals, especially with someone that was essentially a complete stranger. Albeit, it doesn’t feel appropriate to call her that anymore. Not now that he knows she threw up in her locker the first day of freshman year and that she lost her virginity in a Dairy Queen storeroom. There’s something about her that makes him feel oddly comfortable, peaceful even. They joke back and forth on the walk back to hotel, observing the oddities of Amsterdam in the moonlight. There are several close calls where one or both of them is nearly taken out by a bike, despite the late hour, and when they finally stumble back into the hotel his sides ache from laughing. He insists on walking her all the way to her room (he is a gentleman, after all), and when her door finally closes and cuts him off from the little smirk on her face, he doesn’t stop picturing it the rest of the night. It’s the first image in his head when he wakes the next morning and right then and there? He knows he’s fucking in for it.

Follow Up A/N: Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about what goes into tour management. However, I’ve managed leisure tour operations for a large company (you know, where they send busloads of teens around Europe or retirees to the Grand Canyon) and there’s a lot of damn work that goes into it. So I find it feasible there could be someone devoted to just those logistics on a massive concert tour. But basically don’t @me with a “Cez doesn’t need help like that” – you’re probably right. Just suspend your disbelief for me :)

ALL FEEDBACK IS SUPER DUPER APPRECIATED. Tell me what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you want to see, etc. I’ve also been VERY BAD at keeping track of who wants to be added to a taglist for my work, so please let me know if you want to be added and I’ll actually do it this time.

LAST NOTE – I know the timeline I’m setting here kind of retcons things I’ve mentioned in one or two of the one-shots. I’ll probably edit those at some point to fix that up.

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes

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thesickpanda · 4 years

Text

It’s the End of the World as we Know It (And I don’t feel fine)

Over a month ago I woke up with terrible pain in my back. For years we've been sitting on a broken futon so we figured that might be to blame. We could ill afford a new sofa at that time, but we really had no other choice. There was no comfortable chair for me to sit in and with the neuroma in one foot and a subluxating patella in the other leg, I need to sit a lot. So a few days after my spasm, a new, ergonomic sofa was delivered. It's been great. I'm incredibly grateful for it. But the back spasm? It hasn't gone away.

I'm used to the aches and pains of Fibromyalgia but normally when I have a spasm in my back or neck, it's gone after a week or two, tops. The regular aches return but there's a difference in a spasm. It's a sharp, vice like grip that prevents me from bending at certain angles. It generally feels like I have something with sharp fangs latched into all my tissues, sinews and muscles that just won't let go. It sends electrical, sharp twinges up the rest my back, threatening to paralyse me. It's really unnerving, but beyond that, it's extremely debilitating. I booked to see my myotherapist and the soonest I could visit her was a few weeks away. I saw her on Monday and my glutes were so tight that after she'd massaged them, I came up in enormous purple and blue bruises. Seriously, my butt looks like a baboon’s.

For one day my lower back felt a bit better and I didn't need to put a heat pack on. I've been putting on so many stick-on deep heat packs that my skin is red raw from the adhesive ripping off each night. Unfortunately, the pain returned with a vengeance only a day later. I'm struggling to do my core exercises which are essential for keeping me functional. My Fibro is greatly worsened by being static and my subluxating patella becomes excruciating if I don't do my hip flexors and other exercises. But trying to do them on the exercise mat on the floor right now? Immensely painful. Certain back stretches that always used to help lower back pain are so difficult to do that I just burst into tears. And I know what I'm in for. I have low back pain. I have one of the vaguest pains that doctors absolutely revel in dismissing. I know that I will be sent off to one useless physio after another and because no one can “see” the problem I’ll be sent on a merry-go-round of tired old treatments I KNOW don’t work. This back forth with medical professionals will go on for months and thousands of dollars later I’ll feel no better. I know how this book ends because I know the medical system and its limitations intimately. It’s a lost cause.

I do have a theory as to why this back pain will not go away, though. Along with the spasm, I've been incredibly stressed during my sleep. The cannabis I'm taking at night allows me to sleep for 6 hours, which is a massive improvement on no sleep at all due to pain. However, it works more like a pain distractor. The THC pushes me under into sleep mode, but I am clearly still in pain because I'm clenching. I'm clenching so damn hard that I have to wear a wrist brace at night to stop myself from cracking my wrists under my head. I wake up in the fetal position with my teeth gritted to the point that I now have trans-mandibular joint disorder, something else that is expensive to treat and that I now need to see a dentist for. Clenching so tightly for eight hours a night is likely doing in my back as well. Why am I so stressed? Oh, there are many reasons but the biggest one is bleedingly obvious to me:

Eco-anxiety.

[Image description: a realistic image of planet earth, as seen from space, with fire burning across most of its surface]

It is very difficult to put into words how emotionally distressing it has been for Australians to be surrounded by smoke and fire for months. We were very lucky in our region of the Blue Mountains that the smoke didn't settle nearly as much as it did in Sydney. Sydney is in a basin and so the pollution just sits on top of it and they were copping it from the north and south coast fires as well as the ones raging on the northern and southern slopes of the mountains. But eventually, the smoke haze grew so large and so thick that it dumped on us too. A few days ago, air quality reached 12 times the hazardous level. And as Australian houses are designed like sieves and are not at all airtight or properly insulated, the smoke just comes in. On Wednesday, my eyes were red, my nose was running and I was coughing constantly. I was incredibly agitated because I couldn't breathe. I couldn't go outside, that was even worse, so after a long drawn out winter I haven't been able to enjoy late spring or summer thus far. This has given me intense cabin fever as I am an outdoors person and recharge in nature

Apart from the stress of being cooped up inside a smoke filled house, I am also drained from being on constant high alert. I have the “Fires Near Me” app on my phone, which posts warnings if a fire has started in my local area; four have started in my watch zone in the past few weeks. There is a huge one raging in the upper mountains and dumping smoke on us. At any moment, we might have to evacuate. The mega fire (Gosper’s Mountain/Wollemi Park area) which is larger than the entire metropolitan area of Sydney is now burning on the northern slopes of the Blue Mountains, may cross over the road and start eating into the central park. If that happens, there will be a mass exodus out of the mountains towns, including mine. The new home we just bought? That might well burn to the ground. We had to over insure it because of the way property prices are forever escalating. It's so incredibly expensive and unbelievably stressful. We know all of this is happening because of climate change, and yet our leaders refuse to do anything about it. Oh, hopes and prayers are offered, sure, but policy changes and meaningful action? Ha ha no. Too many boomers in government for that.

Climate change anxiety is real. With most other worries and fears, I can console myself or rationalise them away. But not this one. Normally when I am anxious, I exercise self-compassion and console myself with: “there, there, it's not the end of the world”. But that line no longer works, because the world as we know it is changing dramatically and terribly and it is only going to get worse. It is TERRIFYING. Eastern Australia took a sucker punch to the face with all the smoke and bushfire and suddenly everyone is very painfully aware of the real consequences unchecked climate change. Every day that I open my blinds and see thick haze covering the forest, I'm reminded of how little of that is now left. For the first time, the bushfires are not carbon neutral; because of the drought, it has been predicted that the undergrowth and trees will not be able to replenish themselves, meaning that all of that smoke is just adding millions of tonnes of carbon to our already warming atmosphere. The koala is now functionally extinct yet our government refuses to stop logging native forests. Millions of hectares have burned, unfathomable numbers of animals and insects and other biodiversity have been wiped out. Hundreds of homes have been razed to the ground, people have lost their lives. And we have been told that this is going to be the new normal. From now on bushfire season won’t just be summer, it will include spring as well. Heck, in some areas, bushfires started in late August, which is fucking winter. Our largely unpaid and under-resourced fire fighters are exhausted and spread too thin. They’re now saying to some people in regional and rural areas that they just need to evacuate because there’s no way the RFS will be able to get to them in time to defend their homes. And yet, homes are so hard to come by in Australia that people will give their lives defending their house.

The news is constantly bleak. To go outside is literally toxic. To stay inside is toxic as well. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and at night I take all that stress with me into bed. The only saving grace is that last year we bought an air purifier. Yesterday we had to spend another $300 to get a second so that I am not confined to one room of the house all day long and so that we can both, you know, breathe clean air when we sleep. (Don’t get me started on how clean air is now a middle class luxury. We’re lucky we could afford to buy one, and even then, only by using AfterPay… This is disgustingly unfair on the poor/disadvantaged).

If this is our new normal I'm not sure that I want to live a long life. I am absolutely terrified of death but I am more terrified of watching the world burn to the ground around me as I age. I'm scared of what humans will be doing to each other once we run out of water and when there is no safe place to go. We like to think that we are okay in a developed nation like Australia, yet we may be one of the worst hit by climate change. With no rain, little arable land, tremendous heat waves (on Thursday Australia was the hottest country on earth) and super fires consuming millions upon millions of hectares, well….

When I was reading about the TMJ pain and clenching, one of the primary treatments is addressing the underlying anxiety that is making you clench each night. I laughed maniacally reading that. Oh yeah, I'm clenching my jaw because I'm terrified of climate change destroying the world. How the fuck am I supposed treat that anxiety? Tell me how I'm supposed to do that?!

So until the world somehow manages to fix itself, I guess that back spasm, jaw clenching and existential dread and anxiety are here to stay.

[Image description: panel one: cartoon dog sitting calmly in a burning room labelled “Australia”. Next panel is a close up of the dog saying with a smile ‘this is fine’. The dog is labelled “The Australian Government].

#Australia #australia burning #australia bushfires #climate anxiety #climate change #climate change anxiety #eco anxiety #chronic illness #spoonie #health impacts of climate change #existential anxiety #dread

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