#never been in that degree of excruciating pain for that long probably Ever. but of course it worked out and even if i feel like i dont

[way2gowillow]

Why does no one listen??? Like I remember when I was like 10 i started having intense wrist pain and at the time I was cheerleading so i thought it was just carrying the girls so of course I tell people hey hey my wrist hurts rlly bad can you help me but of course they say "it's just from the handstands and cheerleading just ease off" then I 'complain' so much I can't cheer anymore but the pain still persists and I'm telling people I'm in pain I'm in pain hello??? And they're like "well you know you have an bulimia it's probably just being bulimic things" so no doctors or parents listen to me then I recover from bulimia then I gain weight right and they go "oh y'know it's just you being a women that's why your back hurts" then I join my art school and I start taking dance classes to help with my theatre degree im going for so I start dancing, and the pain doesn't stop. "Dad I'm serious my feet hurt so bad I can't even walk" he goes "well maybe you should stop dancing" I go to the doctor for a checkup late last semester 'hey I'm having excruciating pain and it won't go away." "Maybe it's arthritis." But my dad cuts her off "no, they don't need any tests their fine." I'm like 15 atp and I'm trying to literally TYPE ON A KEYBOARD and my fingers lock up I show people LOOK MY FINGERS ARE STUCK I'm in pain, I'm ALWAYS sick I get sick like twice a month something is wrong. I'm taking acting classes that semester so it's not like I'm doing heavy exercise for them to blame it on he goes "you're really being dramatic you're just stressed" now here I am. 16 years old middle of the summer. I've been trying any and everything to feel better to stop the pain from coming in. And I wake up this morning and my entire body hurts. Every. Single. Inch. It's never been this bad before in my entire life. My neck, my shoulders, my elbows, my wrists, my fingers, my ENTIRE BACK EVERY INCH, my hips, my knees, my ankles, and my feet and toes hurt so bad I have literally been unable to even walk more than a few feet without having to sit down, I have a pretty intense pain tolerance too, so I walk downstairs having to get my sister to practically carry me, theyres tears pouring down my face I've never been in this much pain, I walk into my dad's office "dad please it hurts so bad make it stops" HE TELLS ME that "You've been eating pretty bad recently lots of sugar..." (He's a 2 almonds per day type of person, which is ironic because my mother is 350 pounds... But anyways) and I say"okay??? What about my PAIN"

He says "I'll take you to the gym tomorrow, and eat better, you're really doing way to much with all this crying go wash your face." THEN HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY "your room needs to be clean by the way"

WTF I AM SOBBING I AM IN SOBMUCH PAIN and I just like get dismissed like this IVE BEEN IN PAIN FOR 6 YEARS. IT WONT STOP and like why does no one listen to me I'm sick of this shit I'm just gonna just die. Like curk up in a ball and die. I can't even get out of bed, my sister helped walk me upstairs and I'm laying here but like I don't think he understands how much pain I am actually in. I never cry for pain, like ever, yet no one listens.

I don't know, I'm stuck. I need advice. Im not an adult yet I don't know what to do. I'm not like angry or anything but I'm in so much pain how can I convince anyone someone that I need help and if you don't know that any tips to make it stop. I've taken like 1000 mlg of Ibuprofen and it has bearly cut the edge off so please tips god anything would help.

-rosy

I'm so sorry. :( I know how much joint pain can hurt.

I can't convince your father, but I wouldn't give up reaching out for help. Whether it's from him or not, you make sure they don't silence you. Don't give up until you see a doctor again. Describe your joint pain- how long it lasts. If it keeps you awake, if it interferes with your daily activities. Do not hold back. Tell them about how ibuprofen does not help with the pain. (Don't directly ask for pain meds because they will be suspicious that you are only there to get some strong prescription drugs). Instead ask if something can be done to prevent the root cause of the pain.

I'm not sure why your father would object to have testing done for you. It's honestly a pretty simple laboratory test. They'll draw your blood and they'll be able to check your white blood cell count, as well as a bunch of other things. If it's autoimmune, then your white blood cells will be abnormally high. And then they can begin treating you. Any good father would want the best for their child. Him refusing to take you is extremely negligent.

Some advice? let's see...

During my early stages, I took OTC joint pain reliever. It worked for a little but I got worse. Now, whenever I get a flare up I take ibuprofen or Tylenol (whatever I have, but NEVER both). CBD products also help. Lidocaine cream like Icy-Hot helped a great deal too. I'd also invest in some compression gloves or socks. Supposedly ice can help with inflammation but I find that heat works much better for me, so I have a heating pad. If you don't have one that's okay. Just take a rag or clean cloth and wet it under a faucet. Stick it in the microwave for a minute and you can use that. (Just make sure the cloth is damp. If you can, low impact exercise is good since it keeps your body from getting so stiff. For me sometimes I feel like being a blob because everything hurts to move, but I know if I don't at least walk around a bit, then I'm going to feel so much worse.

I know this advice is kind of weak-sauce, but I at least hope it'll do something to help. Again, I highly encourage you keep telling everyone you can that you're hurting. I'm hoping maybe you can get some laboratory work done and they can identify what exactly is going on with you. I would agree that it sounds like arthritis but it could also be something else. I'm not a doctor though, and I can't diagnose anybody. I'm not qualified in any way to make an accurate and informed statement about your own health. :'D

Best of luck. <3

[pepprs]

IM FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

#ITS OKAY!!!!! everythings okay. its ok!!!! i didnt do anythig bad except make myself absolutely miserable for 4 straight days. but i didnt #cause harm!!!!!! at least to people outside ofmyself!!!!!!!! even though i did cause a lot of distress but ok! its cool we’re cool. i still #um. desperately need there of pea so im getting it hopefully but. i am no longer in hell!!!!!!!!!!!! #thank u to everyone who like. sent me sweet messages and stuff im sorry ivd been a holy terror on here i was suffering so bad like i have #never been in that degree of excruciating pain for that long probably Ever. but of course it worked out and even if i feel like i dont #deserve it to always work out it DOES! in the end it does! and ao yeah i am. gonna be reeling from this for a few days and i literally have #been running around my house bellowing and howling and smashing on the piano and jumping around and throwig myself on the floor and draping #myself on furniture for like 30 minutes because i am Hysterical but im hysterical with RELIEF!!! because its ok. so thank u. #im gonna delete everything i posted and we can all erase this from our collective conscjousnesses and go back to tranquility in pepprsland #but thank u for putting up w me because that was. a lot. #purrs

[blossom-hwa]

Put Your Arms Around Me (I’ll Be Warm For Days) - DAEYEOL

so I once swore I'd never write a vampire fic yet here I am breaking that promise because I saw this post explaining that once you rescind your welcome to a vampire they are obligated to leave and then this just happened

god I already feel embarrassed just queuing this I'm so sorry

Pairing: Daeyeol x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, vampire!au

Triggers: mentions of biting like once? it never gets described

Word Count: 3k

In your arms, Daeyeol feels just a little more human.

Golden Child Masterlist

Spinning in the pouring rain, dreary gray clouds lining the sky with not a hint of sky in between, your laughter rings radiant in the air as Daeyeol watches from under the apartment overhang, umbrella closed by his side. A small smile lifts the corners of his lips, a smile that he no longer tries to hide – you know how feels. And though you haven’t given him a reply just yet, it’s a blessing nonetheless not to have to hide the love in his expression whenever he sees you free, happy, alive.

“Daeyeol!” You come running up, shoes squelching through streets already covered in a layer of water. Even as cold rain splashes and hits his skin, his smile widens as your wet face appears in his line of vision. “Come on, you stupid baby – just for a few minutes!”

“You’re calling me a stupid baby?” He scoffs in mock indignity, pulling you out of the rain. “I’m several centuries older than you, thank you very much, and I have more degrees than you will ever earn in your life –”

A wet hand hits his arm and your laughter rings again, music in Daeyeol’s ears. “And yet you’re still afraid of a little rain,” you tease, hand wrapping around his wrist. “How is it that you’re the immortal who’ll never get sick or tired but you’re also the one waiting out the downpour?”

“How is it that you’re the human who’ll definitely get sick and sniffly but you’re also the one dancing out in said downpour?” Daeyeol counters, shrugging off his coat. The chill strikes his bare arms but he ignores it, placing it over your shoulders. “You need a hot shower or you’re going to be sick all day tomorrow.”

“Hey, just a few minutes.” You beam at him, pulling the coat around you more securely. “Come on, please?”

He can’t say no. He never could, not when faced with you. Even though Daeyeol is a centuries old vampire and has seen enough of the world to make him lose faith in humanity multiple times (once quite recently), the sparkle in your eyes never fails to remind him that there’s still kindness, there’s still good, there’s still love in the world that might just prevail over all the bad. So he follows you into the rain and watches you spin under the showering droplets, arms held out wide (his coat is definitely going to need a long wash), and even as the cold air begins to seep into his already cold skin, he finds warmth in your laugh, warmth in your smile, warmth even in your chilly hand as it wraps around his fingers and forces him to spin around once too.

What wouldn’t he give to pull you closer, to bring your body right up against his so he can press a kiss to your rainy forehead, staring into your eyes as you gaze back with the same love that he holds for you? What wouldn’t he give to sway you gently in the downpour, water soaking your clothes as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder and simply stays there, soaking in the love of someone he cares for with all that is left of his heart?

But with no reciprocation must come restraint, and after centuries of life (or death, depending on how he thinks of it), he’s well-versed in the skill. Daeyeol loves you and you know this, but he’s also made it clear that he will never pressure you into an answer, will never force himself onto you no matter how long he must wait. He’s lived for centuries. He can wait a little longer for a reply to his confession, be it favorable or unfavorable, as long as you allow him to stay by your side.

You twirl around, eyes squinted nearly shut with laughter. A few feet away from Daeyeol, you stop and turn back to him with a look simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar, unfamiliar in that he hasn’t seen it on your face, but familiar in that he has seen it on his when Joochan drew that portrait of him staring at an off-canvas you, the softest glint of love in his eyes.

Love.

Real love.

But this time in your eyes, not his.

Daeyeol’s breath stutters in his throat. Hope rises in his chest, makes him feel an artificial warmth in his cold face and if he were still human his heart would be fluttering, pounding, racing as he returns your gaze –

But the look disappears in a second, replaced by a much more familiar expression of simple joy and laughter as you tromp through the puddles to brush a wet clump of hair out of Daeyeol’s face. Your fingers, though cold, send warm tingles up his spine. “It’s not fun if you just stand there and let the rain pour all over you, you know,” you reproach, eyes sparkling.

Cold disappointment eats through the previous warmth in his chest but Daeyeol swallows it down. He was probably seeing things, probably projecting his feelings onto you in a way that wasn’t real. And even if he wasn’t, just because you feel similarly doesn’t mean you’re ready to say it just yet. No sense in hoping or probing.

Daeyeol allows his lips to tilt in a little pout. “I just don’t want you to get sick,” he says, braving a hand to uselessly wipe rain off your face. “Come on, it’s been a few minutes. You need a shower and I need to cook dinner.”

You grumble a little but the reminder of warm food convinces you to escape the rain. Daeyeol lingers behind slightly as you head into the apartment lobby, gazing wistfully at your back.

No. He shakes his head. This is enough. All of it is enough. It is enough that you allow him to stay, enough that you welcome him into your apartment every day even if you rescind the invitation at night. It is enough that you accept his feelings even if you need more time for an answer, treasuring the heart he’s entrusted you even if you’re not yet ready to offer your own. Because even though you’re the only one for him, the only one who’s made him wish his heart could beat not just for life but for love since he was turned so many centuries ago, the only thing that matters to Daeyeol is your comfort and your happiness.

For as long as a genuine smile remains etched on your face, Daeyeol can find peace in your joy.

. . . . .

His hair is still slightly damp from the shower when the clock strikes midnight several hours later and Daeyeol looks up from his perch on the couch, frowning over his glasses at the two clock hands that signal his time to leave.

You look up too, squinting over your laptop at the clock. Daeyeol takes the moment to focus on the way your eyes still shine through the tiredness on your face. It’s a far cry from the rainy exuberance you wore a few hours ago, but it’s just as beautiful in a quieter, softer way.

A smile spreads over his lips, wide but a little sad, too. With this stolen moment of silent admiration comes the knowledge that it’s time for you to rescind your welcome, for him to make the lonely walk up one floor to his own apartment, for him to slide between cold sheets that won’t grow warm because his blood doesn’t flow and attempt to sleep while imagining you in his embrace. The next day will come sooner the faster he falls asleep, Daeyeol knows, and the sooner the next day comes the sooner he gets to see you, but that doesn’t seem to compute when all he wants is to feel your warmth by his side.

“I should go,” he says quietly, closing his literature textbook as he stands.

You nod, yawning. The urge to walk over and kiss your forehead is almost overwhelming but Daeyeol resists, only reaching out to pat your head softly as he passes by. “Mm, it’s late.”

Do you lean into his touch? Daeyeol doesn’t know. You’re always careful with your actions, careful in a way Daeyeol wishes you weren’t however much he understands, but this time when Daeyeol touches your face, he can’t help but hope you might have leaned in slightly, just slightly, even if it was unintentional.

“Goodnight, then.” He stops at the door to put on his shoes.

“Goodnight, Daeyeol.” You smile, though your eyes glint with a little something that looks like a mix of worry and… excitement? “Sweet dreams.”

He lingers a moment longer, debating whether or not to ask you if something’s wrong. Worry isn’t exactly characteristic in your expression, and even less so is the mixture of anxious excitement burning softly in your eyes. But he stops himself. It’s late, after all, and if you still look the same way in the morning, he can ask then when you aren’t so tired. His other shoe goes on and he swings open the door, glancing back one last time as you wave from the table.

One foot out the door, then the other. Daeyeol begins to close the door.

Then his eyes widen and he swings it back open before he can even comprehend his brief thought.

You don’t look surprised when he stumbles back into the apartment, clutching the doorknob so hard he knows it’ll break between his fingers if he doesn’t loosen his grip soon. If anything, a little smile curves your lips, shy and anticipating but gleeful, too, excited and glinting with a warmth that Daeyeol recognizes from Joochan’s portrait –

“You didn’t rescind your invitation," he breathes. “Did you –” he swallows, not wanting to consider the painful possibility but forcing it through his mouth even as hope blooms vibrant and full in his chest – “did you forget?”

The second it takes for you to open your mouth is excruciating, but his patience is rewarded when shake your head and smile. “No,” you reply, standing up. Daeyeol can barely breathe as you step forward, closer, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t.”

You’re close, so close that Daeyeol would barely need to move to slide an arm around you, to pull you into his chest and bury his face in your shoulder the way he wanted to so badly in the rain. He could lift his head, press soft kisses to your neck and jaw and cheek, moving towards your forehead and nose and then your lips –

Two warm arms wrap around his waist and Daeyeol stops breathing for real. Your body presses into his and Daeyeol winces slightly, wondering how you’ll react when you feel the distinct lack of a heartbeat beneath his shirt. But you don’t so much as flinch, only look up with a slightly uncertain expression when Daeyeol goes rigid beneath your touch. “Is this okay?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” Daeyeol replies, voice slightly choked for breath. “Yes, it’s everything I’ve – just –” He swallows. “Is this what you want? It’s not… not just because of how I feel, is it?”

At that, your expression relaxes, worry melting into exasperated affection. “Of course not,” you murmur, arms tightening around his body. Daeyeol almost gasps at the muted warmth that seeps through his shirt, rushing up his skin. “I trust you. I should’ve trusted you a long time ago, really. You’ve only ever treated me with love and care. You’ve never done anything remotely threatening to me and…” You lift your head from his skin and look at him with shining eyes. “I don’t believe you ever will.”

He moves, then, arms curving around your waist with maybe a bit too much strength but he grants himself a brief reprieve from years of constant restraint, allows himself to bring you close, close, closer as he tucks himself into your warmth, closing his eyes in bliss as your breath tickles his skin. “You had every right not to trust me,” he corrects you, murmuring into your ear. “I don’t blame you. When a vampire shows up in your life and you catch him feeding, of all things…”

“Still, Daeyeol.” His name takes a new nuance, spoken from your lips with love. “You’ve never done anything to me or anyone, really, not on purpose. You’ve only been loving and gentle and kind, and I trust you enough to give you my love.”

To give you my love. Besides his name from your voice and your laugh, Daeyeol has never heard anything lovelier to his ears. “I’ll treasure it,” he promises, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. He delights in the little shiver that races up your spine. “Forever.”

“As I treasure yours.” You pull back, smiling wide. “Do you want to stay the night?”

. . . . .

Somehow, Daeyeol ends up in your room, sitting on the bed uncertainly as he waits for you to come out of the bathroom. He doesn’t really know what to do – actually, what will you be okay with him doing? Will you allow him to curl into your warmth the way he yearns to, or will you want to maintain some space?

Your voice startles him out of his thoughts. “Daeyeol, I’m not going to bite,” you say, looking slightly amused as you reach around him to pull open the blankets. “That’s your job. Come on, get in or I’ll make you get up to turn off the lights instead.”

Like a child, Daeyeol slides between the sheets, letting you drop them back over him before switching off the lights. The room descends into darkness lit only by a sliver of the moon through the window as you settle into bed next to him, pulling the blankets over you both.

An arm slips under him and Daeyeol almost forgets how to breathe again when you bring yourself closer under the blankets, resting your head against his chest. “Is this okay?” you whisper, voice tickling his skin.

It’s okay. More than okay. Much more than okay. So Daeyeol just nods, pushing away the urge to take off his shirt and feel your warmth directly on his skin rather than through his clothes. It’s your first night in the same bed. You’d probably be uncomfortable. “Yes.”

“Liar.” You shift in the bed, the moon illuminating your face just enough that Daeyeol can see the eyebrow you’ve raised. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can stop if you want.”

Daeyeol shakes his head as best he can. “No, no. I just…”

“Hm?”

To hell with it. Daeyeol swallows. “When I’m not around you, I feel cold,” he says. For heaven’s sake, if he was a human, his cheeks would be burning. “But when I am, I finally feel warm. And I…” He sighs. “I’d rather feel your warmth directly, rather than through my clothes.”

“… So you want to take off your shirt.”

His ears would also be red. “Yes. But if you’re uncomfortable –”

“No, it’s fine.” Your eyes look a little shy but it’s too dark for Daeyeol to really tell. “Come on, make yourself comfortable. I’m fine with it.”

“Are you sure? I –”

“Daeyeol.” You look up to face him fully as you smile wide. “Yes. I’m sure.”

The shirt falls to the floor and you pull yourself close once more. Daeyeol sighs as your warmth seeps through his skin, sending pleasant tingles all throughout his body as he curls into you, closing his eyes in delight. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Of course.” You shift slightly and Daeyeol blinks, ready to adjust to whatever position you find yourself in, but you only level your face with his, smiling brighter than the stars peeking through the window. “Do you mind…?”

It takes Daeyeol a moment to understand what you’re asking but when he does, he doesn’t bother giving you a verbal answer in favor of kissing you, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as you press back. His arm falls to your waist, curving over your body and bringing you closer as his other hand rises to caress your cheek. You sigh into his lips, your own fingers reaching up to tangle softly through his hair.

You break away for air, then kiss once, twice, three times more before it feels okay to stop. Daeyeol blinks slowly when you pull away the last time. His hand is still on your cheek and he rubs absentminded circles on your skin, soaking in the way you lean into his touch, and in that moment, he knows he could spend centuries waiting for your lips if it meant he would feel them, warm against his own, just once in a millennium.

“I love you,” you whisper, breath soft against his bare skin. Your eyes are fluttering shut but you keep them open, barely, just enough for Daeyeol to see the loveliness of your gaze before you close them fully for sleep.

He curls in closer to press a quiet kiss to your forehead. You don’t flinch from his cold touch, only sigh briefly before allowing your lips to curve sweetly, gently, as your eyes close. “I love you too,” he murmurs, kissing you softly one last time before settling into your touch.

Your skin bleeds heat into his, makes him feel a little more whole, a little more full, a little less like a blank, immortal vessel for the first time in centuries. It makes him feel as though his heart could beat again, could pump blood through his dead veins and turn him human once more. But even then, even if it can’t, it’s okay. As long as Daeyeol has you, as long as he can love you fully and feel the warmth of your affection in return, he’ll be happy, happier than he ever thought possible since the day he was turned.

Daeyeol smiles, pulling the blankets more securely around you as your breath evens into sleep.

He already feels warmer.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol to keep this warmth :D he deserves it)

#kpopscape #golden child #golcha #gncd #daeyeol #lee daeyeol #golden child daeyeol #golcha daeyeol #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golden child oneshots #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #golden child x reader #golcha x reader #lee daeyeol x reader #daeyeol x reader #golden child daeyeol x reader #golcha daeyeol x reader #fluff #tw bitting #vampire!au #put your arms around me (i'll be warm for days) #scriptura-delirus

[spencer-reids-adventures]

"I am gonna die here."

"I am gonna die here."

The thought hits Spencer like a freight train, so jarring he actually thinks he's hearing it aloud. He briefly wonders if that's anything like what his mother experiences. She's on his mind at the moment. She's the reason he's certain to die unless his team makes it in time, but it's not her fault. No, that's all on him.

"I confess."

That's what he'd said. Put forth his greatest sin, and rather than an offer of redemption, a promise of salvation, he's being told to grab a shovel. Told he ought to be buried alive. There's no happy ending for a boy who did what he did.

"I'm so sorry."

He's plagued with that remorse, has been his entire life. Apologizing for the fact that he'll never be enough, he'll never be able to give his mother the care that she deserves, not by himself. He wishes he could have been better, could have been more. He wishes he could have been everything she needs.

"I choose Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch is the one who will understand the clue - he's certain of that. JJ is probably traumatized from splitting up with him, Garcia from the stress of it all. He hasn't known Emily long enough, and Derek and Gideon are both ruled by their emotions, even if they express it in opposite ways. No, it has to be Hotch.

"I'm not weak."

He's been told all his life that he was weak - a scrawny child, always younger than his classmates. A gawky teenager juggling graduate degrees and tripping over his own feet. Exceptions from physical qualifications at the Academy. But here, now, cuffed and beaten, tortured and threatened, he knows it's his time to be strong. And he will be.

"I don't want it."

Not even when it takes the pain away. Not even when it gives him a brief respite from excruciating consciousness. Not even when it lets him read in bed with is mother one more time. He doesn't want it, he doesn't want it, he doesn't want it. And then, eventually, he does.

"I'm not a liar."

Honesty is important to him, and so is survival. He does what he has to do to get by, and sometimes the truth has to be bent a little, molded around a circumstance, benched for a quarter or two. He has a whole philosophy regarding honesty, and he could easily recite it, but in this moment he tells his captor the only thing he can.

"He's the unsub."

It's the moment when everything changes. The glass vase shatters on the floor and the shards scatter across tile, sliding further and further apart, and some of them will never be found. The ones that can be found will never, ever fit back together the way they once did.

#cw violence #cw drug use #spencer reid #maya writes more than 5 sentences #maya's spencer whump collection

[stupid-stew]

Boiling Rain

my finger slipped again oopsies idk if this is 100% in character but like what if eda kicked lilith out right away and ended up regretting it later

There was nothing worse than a knock on the door for Eda. Especially not in the middle of the night, during a boiling rain storm, when she was fresh out of magic, and she had a kid in the house, and there was no hooty noise to warn her beforehand. What was he up to?

Eda was still new at defending herself without her magic, but she knew her way around a bat, just ask that guy at the bar from her 20’s and his massive medical bill. Whatever she thought, laughing to herself, that jerk deserved it, no medical bill was larger than his ego. Bat in her left hand, doorknob in her right, she simultaneously swung the door open and raised the bat into a defensive position, ready to strike, that is until…

“Lily?”

What she saw before her definitely wasn’t her sister, but that was Lilith on her doorstep. Well kind of, Lilith collapsed in front of her, drenched in steaming water, clearly out of breath, nothing like the perfect prissy Lilith she knew, and what was she wearing? Where was her dress and cloak? Oh, Eda realized, that is her dress and cloak. The clothes were nearly melting off of her sister, riddled with holes. That couldn’t have made her injuries any less severe. Eda had been stuck in her fair share of boiling rain storms, even with the thick skin of the owl beast it had still taken her weeks to heal, she couldn’t even begin to fathom the state her sister was in.

“I’m sorry” came a hoarse whisper from the pile at her feet

“Lily oh my titan-” Eda dropped the bat and turned her head to yell up the stairs, hoping she was loud enough to wake her sleeping apprentice “LUZ, WAKE UP” Her head snapped back to the door frame at the movement of Lilith flinching at her loud voice. What happened to her.

Eda bent down to at least try to get an idea of the injuries her sister had suffered, but before she could get her hands on Lilith, Luz appeared at the base of the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked, clearly still half asleep. “I need you to go up to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, not the one in the first aid kit box, the one in the lunchbox.” Eda instructed.

Luz went to move up the stairs but suddenly snapped awake, “Is that Lilith?”

“Luz, later, first aid kit now, please” Eda responded, back turned to the now fully attentive teenager

“Got it…” Luz ran up the stairs, “...the blue or the purple one?” she shouted

Eda sighed, now that Luz was going to be here a while she should make a point to show the kid the ropes around the house “The purple one please.”

Not even a half minute later Eda had the box in her hand and was sorting through the bandages, what was she doing, she didn’t even know how badly wounded Lilith was. Eda set the supplies down and moved to touch Lilith when a pale, terribly blistered hand shot out of the mound in front of her and grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

Eda was confused and jerked her hand away “What do you mean no?”

Lilith took a couple ragged breaths before weakly responding “I don’t want your help, I don’t deserve it”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Eda remembered Luz was still behind her, “Luz, sweetie, could you go grab some blankets and maybe draw up some of those healing glyphs you’ve been working on?”

“Sure” the girl replied softly before quietly stepping back up the stairs

“Edalyn I sai-” Lilith started

“I heard you. I don’t want to hear it. You need help.”

“Not your help-” Lilith inhaled painfully “not after everything I did to you.”

“Oh for titan’s sake Lily, you think just because you made a mistake I’m going to let you lay here in pain? I haven’t even seen your face yet and I can tell you need help, mine or not.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come here, it’s all my fault, I’ll go.” Lilith moved to get up, but the burns weren’t having it and she barely got a push-up’s distance off the ground before her arms gave out.

“Are you kidding me right now? You come to my door in the middle of the night, after having gone through titan-knows-what, covered in burns, your clothes are barely intact, and you expect me to just let you leave?”

Eda wasn’t having any more of it, and reached out and grabbed Lilith’s arm, who hissed in a combination of pain and protest.

“Not on my watch sister” Eda spoke through her teeth. For someone so frail, Lilith was definitely a bit heavier than she looked, though the fact she was drenched probably didn’t help.

She managed to drag the complaining witch all the way to the couch before Luz made her way down the stairs, blankets and a stack of healing glyphs in hand.

“Kid, drop those and come help me please.”

Together they were able to get Lilith into a lying position on the couch, and for the first time see how bad of a state Lilith was in. Not an inch of the witch’s skin was spared from the rains, red blotches and boils acted like massive freckles over her whole body. While taking in the sight of her sister, Eda managed to meet the injured witch’s eyes for a split second, and what she saw scared her more than anything. Of course Lilith’s face was contorted in pain, but there was also shame and embarrassment in her eyes. If I showed up in her state I’d be embarrassed too, but did she really think I wasn’t going to help her?

“Kid can you go upstairs and grab Lilith some clothes from my dresser? Anything you think will fit her is fine, and…” Eda leaned in next to Luz’s ear and in a low whisper “could you take your time? I’d like to talk to my sister in private”

Luz looked at her with understanding “Of course, if you need anything just yell up the stairs.” She eyed Lilith one more time before retreating back up the stairs.

Eda then turned back to Lilith, who seemed unwilling to meet her eye again. “Alright. Let’s get started, you look a mess, so this might hurt a lot more than a little.”

“Edalyn why are you doing this”

Eda chuckled “Have you seen yourself, I’ve never been the best at responsibility, but I think it would make me a bad person to not help someone in your condition.”

“No Eda, I mean why after everything that I did to you, to Luz, why are you still helping me when I am the last person you should want to help, I don’t understand.”

There was a heavy silence followed by a long exhale from Eda. She didn’t respond, instead moving for the pile of glyphs that Luz had left them. “This is going to hurt a lot, and I’m not going to be able to get it all without my magic, the glyphs only do so much, but I think I can make the worst of it at least better.”

For the second time that night Eda was stopped from touching Lilith by a pale shaking hand.

“Edalyn, why?”

“Ok here’s a deal, you let me help you and I’ll tell you why in the end? Sounds fair enough?”

“You really aren’t going to budge on this are you.”

“Nope.” Eda replied, popping her lips on the last syllable.

Lilith flopped back onto her back, shutting her eyes and exclaiming at the, without a doubt, excruciating pain the impact with the couch had caused.

“Real smooth Lils”

“Oh shut it.”

Somehow the older witch’s face turned even more red through the burns and boils.

Eda managed to get through placing glyphs along Lilith’s arms and legs with minimal issue, Lilith didn’t seem to be enjoying herself very much, but even she had to admit it was starting to look better. At some point Luz had come back down with a cream colored shirt and black patchwork skirt for Lilith to change into along with some more glyphs. Eda had sent her back to bed, the kid did have school in a few hours.

“Ok, we are going to have to take off your dress so I can reach your back, looks like that’s where most of the damage is, and…” as Lilith sat up Eda caught a glimpse of her full back “there also doesn’t seem to be all that much dress left to remove. You really got caught in the rain huh?”

Lilith didn’t respond, but instead met Eda’s eyes again, which made Eda suspicious.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes Lilith we have to treat your injuries.” Eda rolled her eyes at her sister, what did she expect when she was out in the rain without protection?

Lilith didn’t look amused, instead she seemed to pale out. She pulled down the top half of her dress and rolled over onto her stomach.

Eda gasped.

Lilith’s back was covered in burns and boils sure, but what shocked Eda was the array of scratches and claw marks all over Lilith’s back, not only her back but they seemed to go up and down her whole body in varying degrees. Some of them looked healed, or on the way there, some of them fresh, some of them even seemed to be infected.

“What the hell Li-”

Was all she got out before she was interrupted

“Forest demons aren’t as nice as they seem. Ever.”

Oh. Eda snapped her mouth shut and silently applied as many glyphs as she could to Lilith’s back and upper arms as she could. Of course, Eda thought, I didn’t let her stay here, she’s got no friends outside the coven, she doesn’t look different enough to find somewhere safe from the coven guard in town, especially not with her posters lining the alleyways, she’s been sleeping in the woods. Where else would she have gone. With their mother? Any number of nights in the forest without a roof was better than one night under their mom’s.

“Thank you.” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh.” Eda had been so busy thinking that she didn’t realize she had finished. “I’ll go to the kitchen to make us some tea, you can change in here, don’t worry about hooty he seems to be asleep.”

Lilith nodded and Eda made her way to the kitchen. Once the water was on the stove, she dove back into her thoughts. All these nights? I kicked her to the curb the night of the incident, it’s been at least a week, it’s rained almost every night. Oh titan, not all of those burns were fresh, that’s probably why Lilith was able to move at all, she was used to it. How has she been eating, bathing, sleeping? She’d been weakened by the splitting of the curse, could she have even defended herself? She could have come around any time- wait. Eda realized that she had told Lilith not to come anywhere near the house… ever again. That’s why she was so convinced she wouldn’t get help at the owl house. Maybe if I had been less harsh, it I hadn-

The whistle of the water being ready pulled Eda back to reality. She quickly placed the tea bags into the mugs and filled them with water and left the kitchen. When she got back to the living room, Lilith was already sitting in her dry clothes, a dim blue light escaping through the thin fabrics from the glow of the healing glyphs. Eda handed her a mug and brought her own to her lips, taking a long sip before sitting down next to her sister.

They sat like that for a while, sipping and waiting. Eventually, much to Eda’s surprise, Lilith broke the silence.

“So why?”

“Huh?” Eda replied, still deep in thought.

“Why did you decide to help me?” Lilith asked, looking into her mug as if it held all the answers “We both know I didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right.” Eda replied simply. “You don’t deserve my help.”

Looking up from her tea and at her sister with genuine confusion, Lilith asked “So why did you help me then?”

“Let me finish. You don’t deserve my help. You cursed me, you kept your mouth shut about it for decades, until it was far too late, and in a desperate attempt to save your own ass you captured not only me, but my apprentice. My apprentice who I might as well call my own daughter at this point. You hurt her you know?”

Lilith’s eyes reverted back to her mug in shame.

“Oh yeah, she’s got bruises that aren’t even healed yet, that’s why she got looking into the healing glyphs. Plus, she faced Belos. She had to burn her only way home, she’s stuck here now. And me? I lost my magic. The most powerful witch on the boiling isles, now without the witch part.”

To emphasize her point, Eda drew a golden spell circle in the air, only for it to crumble into a pile of dust at her feet.

“Edalyn, I-”

“But,” the younger Clawthorne interjected, “that doesn’t make you a bad person, and I refuse to let it make me a bad person. I don’t know what your reasons were for cursing me, not telling me, I don’t know what Belos promised you, but it had to be pretty big to do what you did. And it’s my fault for not knowing. I kicked you out without even hearing you out, and you got hurt for it, I never even gave you a chance to explain yourself.”

It was Eda’s turn to avoid eye contact now, staring contemplatively into her now empty cup.

“It’s my fault you got hurt. That’s why I helped you. I was so caught up in my own anger that I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I’m still mad at you, and you’re far from forgiven, but I think you need help. Let me help you.”

For the first time in a long time, the two sisters met eyes in a moment of understanding.

“Ok.” Lilith said after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Good because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

They both laughed at that.

They sat for a moment, before it was finally Eda’s turn to speak first.

“So why’d you come here if you didn’t want my help?”

Lilith picked at her fingers for a moment before responding.

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. It was so dark and so hot, I could barely even think, none of the other storms had gotten me this bad.”

Ah, so I was right. Eda regretted.

“It was like my feet took me here, all I knew was I needed to get out of the rain, and before I knew it I was in front of your house on my knees. I expected you to turn me away, I wanted you to turn me away.”

Eda didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than “Why.”

Lilith thought for a moment.

“I guess I needed you to turn me away, I thought it might feel better to know that for once you would be the one leaving me in pain after 30 years of the roles being reversed, I think after all of that I deser-”

“No.” Eda interrupted. “I might not be the best sister, neither are you, but I will not ever let you suffer in any way remotely close to the way I did. Nobody deserves that, I sure as hell didn’t but neither do you. You will always have a place to stay with me, no matter how mad I am at you.”

They sat for a while longer, both deep in thought. Eventually Eda took both mugs back to the kitchen and rinsed them before going back to the living room, sitting next to Lilith one last time to help her out with the blankets.

“I think the shed is livable, the tower might be a bit too overgrown at the moment but we can work something out. You can stay on the couch tonight, no way you’re going back out into that. We can set ground rules in the morning, just try and get some sleep before the kid wakes up. She’s very excited about the new day, every day.” Eda spoke fondly.

“You really care for her, don’t you.” Lilith asked, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“That I do. Goodnight Lilith.” Eda responded before stretching and cracking more joints than any one witch should physically be able to. “Woof, even sitting on that couch is enough to make me sore”

“I’m sure it’s just fine, thank you Edalyn, for everything. And goodnight.” Lilith said while trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy couch. Her injuries, while significantly better, weren’t doing anything to help the situation. It wasn’t long before the soothing warmth of the healing glyphs lulled Lilith into a deep, dreamless sleep, much better than any she’d gotten on the forest floor.

Not even a few hours later, the sun shone on the owl house, waking Luz first, and if she was any quieter than normal that morning, or if she saw a certain gray haired owl lady sleeping on the floor next to Lilith’s position on the couch on her way out the door, she never mentioned it to a soul.

#the owl house #lilith clawthorne #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady

[lihikainanea]

hello so I've recently found out that tall dudes in their 20's can suffer from back pain and I can't help but think maybe Bill has a bad back day. He and Tiger planned like a date+sex night and he's been trying to ignore his back pain all day cuz it's been weeks since they've been together. He just can't wait to have some fun fun playtime with his fave girl. But then as they get started, Tiger notices something's wrong and once she figures it out, she puts a raincheck and proceeds to give her Good Dude some back massages.

ohhhhh my god bb why does this thought make me so soff?

Like, can you imagine during his growth spurt? I remember an interview where he said that for a long time, he was the shortest of all of his friends--and then suddenly, he just shot up. That had to have been painful for him. God I remember growing pains in my teenage years and I barely fucking grew (I am 5'1 and I will fight you) so I can't even a growth spurt that propelled him to 6'4.

And this thought...oh my wee heart...this thought that Bill sometimes still has back pain because his spine just grew so fucking suddenly, this thought that he can still have some bad back days because he was so gangly and constantly hunched over because he was self-conscious of his height--oh my god. I am living for it.

And sometimes the pain is triggered by stress, if he's been wound a little extra tightly lately it'll suddenly kick in. But sometimes too, sometimes because his tendons and his muscles never quite adjusted properly--sometimes it's triggered by the fucking stupidest thing, like getting out of the car wrong or sleeping weird or bending down to tie his shoe.

So like, let's go with that. He's been away for a goddamn while and he's ready and fucking WILLING to get all loved up on by his favourite hellion. He needs it. Except when he comes home, it's shark week and tiger's kind of in a bad way--she knows how bad he needs it, how bad he wants it, but homegirl is suffering and she just can't. She timidly asks him if he can maybe just wait a few days, and Bill doesn't ever want her to feel uncomfortable or in pain or liked she owes him something so he just immediately switches to caretaker mode, and settles for cuddles and taking care of her.

It's almost as good.

But then like, then 5 days later he's leaning down to tie his shoe (they ran out of wine)right as tiger walks in the door from work.

"Oh you're not going anywhere bud," tiger tells him, "Get your ass to the bedroom. You're cleared for landing."

And like, the problem is Bill is so fucking excited that he shoots up--but he does it entirely too quickly, and he suddenly feels that dreadful twinge. The nerve giving a little reverberating snap before a numbing tingle takes over, and then excruciating pain. His back jams and he's practically at a 90 degree angle, his eyes wide, as a pained whine through clenched teeth leaves his throat.

"...Bill?" tiger asks, worriedly.

"All good," he feigns a smile, "Last one to bed has to give head."

And like, he tries to take off running. But it's a hobble at best, a rather pitiful one, as he's still hunched over. He slowly, sadly, hobbles past tiger at about the speed of a turtle and she puts a hand on his arm.

"Oh bud," she says, "Your back again?"

"It's fine, I'm fine," he tries to reassure, "Nothing a solid fuck can't work out. Let's go."

But like, Bill is not going anywhere. Literally. He's shuffling his feet and barely moving, his features pinched in pain.

"Bill--"

"Tiger, last I checked we have sex laying down. You can be on top. It'll be fine. Now please, kid. I'm desperate. I need you."

She gives in, helping the tall idiot hobble to the bed and gingerly laying him out on his back. He makes grabby hands at her, tearing her clothes off as best he can, and she gets settled on top of him. It's quick, harsh, both of them are needy and they can get this easy one out before indulging in some far more satisfying, leisurely, languid lovin' later on. She slams down onto him and his eyes roll back--until the pleasure makes him lurch forward, and suddenly he's gasping in pain again.

"Right, just....help me out then," he stiffly lays back down, takes her hands and puts them on his chest, "Just keep me down."

Tiger tries her best. Her hands on his chest to steady herself and also use her weight as leverage to keep him down, but the tense of his jaw and the pain on his face is impossible to ignore. And unfortunately for poor Bill--sweet, Good Dude Bill--the pain is also having other biological impacts, and he can't stay hard.

"This is the worst day of my life," he whines, "I need this so bad."

"You need rest, heat, and anti-inflammatories."

"I need your pu--"

"We tried that," she interrupts, hopping off of him, "And clearly, it's a no."

She leaves the room as he lets out his foghorn whine.

The poor dude is probably really jammed, too. It takes days. He can't get out of bed by himself. He can barely stand. He's in so much fucking pain that tiger even makes him those special brownies that she usually only makes for Valter. Good Dude Bill gets lots of back massages, gets hopped up on the good meds, and otherwise just gets his tall ass pampered by his favourite human until he's in good enough shape to be ridden like a prized stallion again.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

[esmealux]

How Chloe Decker Ruined The Greatest Slut of The Universe

Part: 1 / 1

Setting: Post s5, maybe post s6?

Word count: 2.2K

Rating: T

Summary: Lucifer’s thoughts on monogamy have changed over time. Or, how Chloe Decker ruined the Greatest Slut of the Universe. 

Author’s note: Thanks for the help on this one! If I’m still a little off canon in some places, I apologise. I tried my best. If it bugs you too much that it doesn’t 100% match what’s implied on the show, you can always consider it an AU.

Lucifer had never seen the point of monogamy. Why limit yourself to one sexual partner when you could have a thousand?

It wasn’t a matter of quantity over quality—Dad no. It was simply a matter of diversity. Variety. No matter how delectable the taste, you wouldn’t stick to one meal for the rest of your life. No matter how sweet the melody, you wouldn’t listen to one song and one song only. Even the most magnificently scored piece of music would eventually tire your ears if it were all you ever heard. So why on Earth would you tie yourself to one person?

He might have understood it if humans were designed to mate for life, like beavers and seahorses, but they weren’t. They were polygamous creatures. And yet so many of them spent every living second obsessing over finding the one. It was untrue to their nature—deviant, really. The saddest part was that once they thought they’d encountered this ‘other half’, they’d chain themselves to the person, restrain themselves. Suppress their innate desires.

Why, oh, why?

The question had struck his mind so many times, most often amid a particularly sinful orgy. Why would you ever abstain from the abundance of pleasure several lovers could give you in return for sporadic and ever-worsening missionary sex with the same person until your dying day? 

It had made absolutely no sense to him.

But then he’d met her.

Not that he’d turned monogamist by the mere sight of her (he wasn’t that weak). But it was her acquaintance, all the light and the dark that ensued, which ultimately had made him abandon his philandering. He’d wish he could say it was a conscious choice. It wasn’t. After she’d kissed him that first time (and probably even before that) he just simply hadn’t had the desire to engage in casual sex with strangers. Not that he hadn’t felt desire in any form—had practically been set ablaze with it the moment their lips had touched—but he’d burned for her, and no one else.

And then, before he could even act on this newfound, completely overshadowing, giddying want, the all-destructive revelation had been thrust in his face. That she was nothing but another pawn in his Father’s vexatious game. That she hadn’t kissed him of her own free will. That they weren’t real.

It had felt as if he’d crashed against the sulphurous ground of Hell once again. And his carnal desires had been pushed even further back. If he couldn’t have her—and he couldn’t, because she deserved a choice—he didn’t want anyone. Not even when he’d fled from reality to Sin City had he been tempted to pick up a bed mate or two. Nor had he felt the need to seduce Candy as he’d pretend-married her. No, that little arrangement had primarily, almost solely been to protect Chloe. To give her a choice.  

And he’d done just that, as they’d gone back to being friends. Just friends. (For some reason, it had not relieved the ache in his chest, but he’d tried not to dwell on that). And yet, despite their now defined platonic relationship, he still hadn’t resumed his libertine habits. Mainly because he’d been busy sending his mother into another universe, being abducted, cursing his reattached wings, and learning that the new lieutenant was Cain(!). It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to get back to his carefree debauchery. The feathery traitors on his back had just kept getting in the way and ruined the mood.

That, and he hadn’t had quite the same appetite as before. Or perhaps his sexscapades had just become less filling. Either way, the hunger roused by their kiss had still burned inside him—a hunger that couldn’t be sated by one-night stands and sex parties. Because, as reluctant as he’d been to admit it back then, all he’d wanted, all he’d desired, was her.

But she had been forbidden fruit, and for once, he’d refused to bite. For once, something—someone had mattered more to him than his own wants and needs. And so, after a couple of (by his standards) unsatisfying shags, and for the first time in history, he’d had sex with no one but himself. Only accompanied by the ever-fading memory of her mouth on his, and bittersweet fantasies of what could have been.

It’d been rather depressing.

At some point, she had, for some inexplicable reason, started dating Lieutenant Pierce, aka. the world’s first murderer. Consequently, Lucifer had put all his energy into proving to her just how much better than the Murderous Man Ham he was. In addition to providing her with her favourite snacks, buying her a car, and other small acts of kindness, he’d continued to stay abstinent, solo sessions aside. Sleeping around with half of LA didn’t exactly say ‘loyal and devoted’—not to Chloe, at least—and he hadn’t wanted to lose her over meaningless sex. Eventually, he had (with a little help from a friend) realised that it would take more than expensive gifts, decadent dinners, and celibacy to win her over. That he’d have to tell her how he felt about her, instead of telling her how to feel about Pierce. With hope dangerously blooming in his chest, he had gone to finally confess the feelings he’d tried to suppress for so long—only to have an inadequate diamond ring and a quite unexpected ‘yes’ get in the way.

In the throes of jealousy and heartbreak and so many other painful emotions he couldn’t name, he’d started bringing people into his bed again. He’d thought it would help him get over Chloe, or at least keep his mind off her and bring him in a better mood—none of which had been the case, of course. Because all he could think of, as he would lie there, thrusting with as much passion he could muster into his amour d’un jour, was that it wasn’t her. That she’d chosen Pierce—chosen Cain. That he’d had and would have her in ways Lucifer could only dream of.

(And oh, did he dream. To a pathetic degree.)

In spite of the sulky thoughts that had invaded his mind every time he’d been entertaining someone for the night, he had, as always, managed to make all participating parties, himself included, reach their climax—often more than twice. But while they had left his place smiling and satisfied like never before, he’d lied motionless in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling as empty and as starved as he had pre-sex. If not more.

He probably should have realised then that his days as a serial lover were over. Should probably have realised it long before that, actually—say, when an innocent kiss had changed something fundamental inside him. But he hadn’t realised anything. Not then. Not when rekindling his relationship Eve had made him feel oddly guilty. Not when their weekend-long orgies had done nothing to fill the void inside him. Not when he’d found himself alone in the shower, getting off to sappy daydreams rather than the luscious woman waiting in his bed. Not when he’d finally broken up with said woman, and his excessive need for polyphonic stimulation had vanished altogether.

Nor had he realised it any of the times he’d looked at Chloe—when the stars in her eyes and the purity of her soul had taken his breath away. Not when she so openly and without fright had accepted him in his true form. Not when she’d made him see that it wasn’t his true form after all. Not during any of their most tender moments—moments he could only have shared with her. Not when she had felt like home, more than Heaven, Hell or Earth ever had.

Maybe he had started realising it when she between sobs and pleas had declared her love for him. (It was, after all, in that moment he’d realised he loved her in return, and more than he could even begin to understand). But it wasn’t then, and it wasn’t there, it had finally dawned upon him—that Detective Chloe Decker had ruined the First and Greatest Slut of the Universe.

No, the ultimate epiphany had come to him far, far away from her soft lips and her warm heart. Had first come to him when he’d let himself fall and sat in the throne he’d never wanted. Tortured by her absence for millennia on end. For it was there, amongst ashes and demons and scum, in the blackness of the abyss, deprived of her light, that he’d felt it. An all-encompassing desire, a scorching, excruciating longing to be with her. And only her.

It had been the single saddest case of Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

And fonder it had grown. For each day he spent in Hell without her, each year, each century, it only became all the more clear—crystalline, eventually, glowing brightly in the black smog: He loved her. Exclusively, absolutely, and unconditionally. 

Still does.

And even more so now. Now that he knows the feeling of her skin against his, and that she always vacuum-cleans to Spice Girls. Knows just how loud she snores, and what her naked body looks like in the sunlight. Now that he knows she kisses (far) better than she cooks, but that she’s no stranger to fixing a leaking pipe. Knows that it takes four tequila shots to get her horny and two glasses of red wine to have her falling asleep on the couch. Knows how she’ll toss and turn in bed when there’s a killer on the loose, and the peace on her face when they’ve put one behind bars. Now that he knows what makes her gasp in pleasure and what makes her cry with laughter. What makes her roll her eyes, and what makes her stomp out of the room. Knows the sound of her ‘good morning, baby’, and her ‘sleep well, honey’. The sound of her ‘I love you’ murmured against his lips.

Now that he knows her—truly knows her—he can do nothing but love her more with each passing hour.

And the best part is, she seems to feel the same way about him.

What a lucky bastard that makes him.

Because it was luck that brought them together. Not Dad’s will. He knows that now. Yes, she would never have existed had it not been for his Father’s divine intervention, but He didn’t create her from his ribs or code her to love him. As opposed to what Lucifer had thought for so long, they’re not made for each other, not like that. The fact that she met Lucifer? Definitely Dad’s plan. But that she let him into her life? Into her heart? Now, that she can only blame herself for. 

Lucifer blames her too—has questioned her judgement many times over the years, but always with an impossible amount of gratitude. Despite… everything, she chose him. They chose each other. 

He still doesn’t understand the whole soulmate-thing humans are so keen on (why praise your free will only to romanticise the idea of a predetermined partner?), but he can’t deny that he sees it now, the point of monogamy. It’s not that you can’t live without the person, or that you feel obliged to be with them until death do you part. It’s not about containing desires.

No, it’s about not wanting to live without this someone.

And, much to his surprise, sex has very little to do with it. If he ever had to choose between having the best sex of his life every day or always being in Chloe’s company but never getting laid, his balls would be bluer than all smurfs combined. And he’d still be the happiest Devil alive.

Fortunately, he gets both her company and the best sex of his life. But it’s not the incredible orgasms that keep him higher than any party drug ever did. It’s merely being near her. The closeness. The trust. The love.

He wouldn’t trade that— wouldn’t trade her for anything. (Not even a ménage à trois with Aphrodite and Marilyn.)

Once he realised that, it had only taken him two years to act on it. First, he’d sat down and had a short but heartfelt conversation with Beatrice. When that went well, he’d visited his old sparkly friends in the sky, for the first time since he formed them, and carefully picked the tiniest bit off the Brightest of them all.

And now, he’s finally making his way up the coast to the beach—the beach—as a fragment of his dearest star twinkles brighter than ever inside the gold ring nestled against his fluttering heart.

For years, his innermost desire has been to spend every day with her and do his absolute best to make her happy. He not only knows but feels that there is no one else for him. That they are, in the most beautiful and incredible way possible, stuck with each other; they might as well make it official.

If she says yes, that is.

Edit: I have come to realise that I probably should have given @thewollfgang some credit for the idea about the ring. I am truly in love with their ‘Ring’-fic, and I’m not sure I would have gotten the idea of Lucifer putting a star in Chloe’s ring if I hadn’t read their fic. And now that I just read it again, I realise that the ring being in Lucifer’s breast pocket also is heavily inspired by the same fic. So, lots of credit to the absolutely amazing @thewollfgang on this one. 

#deckerstar fanfiction #writing #fluff #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #lucifer x chloe #lucifer on netflix #proposal #monogamist!lucifer #reflections #post 5a #established

[bondsmagii]

Here’s something I really can’t explain.

To sum up: I shouldn’t be alive right now. I shouldn’t be writing this. I have no idea how any of this could have happened, but the fact you’re reading this now is kind of living proof that it did happen, so I suppose I’ll try and explain it as best as I can.

A little backstory for you. Way back in the late forties, my great-grandfather was a young man working with the local fire department. He came back after the war and just couldn’t settle into any kind of desk job, so despite my great-grandmother worrying about his mental state he ended up running into burning buildings for a living. Naturally he saw some messed up shit, but nothing haunted him more than a hotel fire that he attended.

At the time there had been an annual prize night for a local grammar school. Hundreds of kids and their families were crammed into the hotel’s large ballroom when a stray match lit up the curtains on the stage. Back in the day they weren’t exactly great about fire safety, and the walls and furniture were panelled or made with highly flammable materials. The whole room went up in minutes. Over one hundred people died, over half of which were children below the age of fifteen. It was an indescribable tragedy, and my great-grandfather – along with every first responder there – was scarred for life over the things he saw that evening.

My great-grandfather did his best to live with what happened, and for the most part he did well, all things considered. All of his grief seemed to be directed towards one little girl, who was never identified or claimed. She was badly burned but not unrecognisable; the theory was that her whole family had died with her, leaving nobody left to notice she was gone. She wasn’t the only person to suffer this fate, unfortunately – all told, five people were never claimed by families – but because my great-grandfather was the one to pull her body from the wreckage, he sort of became obsessed with her. He was preoccupied until his death with finding out her identity, and every year on the anniversary of the fire he visited her grave to lay a wreath. Unfortunately, he died without ever finding out who she was.

Fast forward a few decades, and I’m in my early twenties. My great-grandfather died when I was quite young, so I only had a small idea of this part of his history. It was, however, enough to make me wary of large fires – especially hotel fires. One summer, I’m visiting another city for my younger brother’s university graduation, and I stay the night in a hotel near the city centre. I remember fires were on my mind already, because initially they had tried to give me a room on the twenty-third floor, and I had politely refused and requested a lower floor. (An old maxim of my great-grandfather’s: never stay on a floor where you wouldn’t survive the fall.) Because of the graduation, the hotel was packed, and I ended up on the fifth floor in the end, but I figured it was better than nothing.

The first night was fine. The second night a fire broke out. The hotel had had some electrical rewiring done within the last month, and something went wrong. The fire smouldered for hours, undetected, before spreading into multiple parts of the ventilation system. Smoke and flame was pushed to all corners of the hotel before the fire cut out the power. Later, investigators would discover that the fire burned through the power for the smoke and fire detection alarms almost immediately – yet somehow the fire alarms went off. This is only the beginning of the inexplicable that night.

By the time the alarms woke me, my room was already filled with smoke. I had been drilled on this so many times as a child that it was instinctive for me to roll off the bed and onto the floor; only then did I start to panic. Luckily I had fallen asleep with the curtains open – the only time I had ever done that in a hotel – and the city lights illuminated the room enough to let me know the smoke was only in the top two thirds of the room, and not as thick as it could have been. I had time to crawl into the bathroom, wet a towel, and tie it around my nose and mouth. Then I crawled to the door and lay a hand flat on it. The door was cool, so I cautiously pulled it open.

In the hallway, it was pitch dark. This is the worst case scenario for any fire. Smoke disorientates people, and they feel ill from inhaling it. Panic compounds the confusion. People can get lost in their own homes – hotels are the worst place for something like this. People stand little chance of getting out if they haven’t memorised an exit, and even then it’s not foolproof. I should know. I always memorise exits, but when I went out of my room I turned the wrong way. I don’t know why. I was panicking, I was confused, and I just made the wrong choice. It should have cost me my life.

I realised my mistake as soon as I reached the end of the hall. The door there was propped open (fire safety hazard, I remember thinking, like it mattered at that point) but I could see no flames. The door led to the stairwell, and I had just crawled out onto it when the entire world went black. The smoke and flame had intensified, the fire sucking in oxygen and the smoke being forced up the stairwell like a huge chimney. It spilled over the edges of the landing and enveloped me even hunched on my hands and knees. My eyes began to sting and water; I couldn’t see anything. I crawled back and bumped into the wall, and for several long seconds that felt like minutes, I couldn’t find my way out of the stairwell. The heat was evaporating the water in the towel, and the sheer amount of smoke meant it wasn’t doing much good anyway. By the time I finally made it back out into the hall, I was coughing and choking. Panic made me pull the towel down. I only took the smallest breath before the floor tilted under me and I experienced a horrible rush of lightheadedness – with smoke so toxic, sometimes a breath is all it takes.

I kept crawling, heading back towards my room, now realising my mistake. At that point I was forcing myself to stay calm, but it wasn’t working. I had realised I had probably just gotten myself killed, and it was almost impossible to breathe. The temperature was climbing, and I knew the fire was close. I could hear screaming from somewhere nearby, doors slamming. Every single rational thought had left. I scrambled down the hallway in pure panic, and then I saw the child.

She was hunched down, looking right at me. She wasn’t in any kind of night clothing – she looked like she was still in the clothing she would have worn at the graduation ceremony, a neat little dress and polished shoes, a ribbon tied in her hair. She was perhaps eight years old at my best guess, and seeing her shocked some sense into me. Before I could speak or gesture to the direction she should go, she waved and then pointed.

“Come on, mister,” she said. “This way.”

Together we crawled to the other end of the hallway. Smoke was billowing from that stairwell, too, thick and dark though still not as bad as the other one. Either way it didn’t look good, but the little girl didn’t seem concerned – not even when we crawled out onto the landing, and the orange flicker of flames was visible several floors below.

“No,” I said. “It’ll be too hot.”

“Come on, mister,” she said again.

She began scrambling down the stairs, staying as low as possible. I could hardly leave her, so I followed.

The heat was unbearable, and by the time we were on the floor below, visibility was zero. The smoke was so thick and black that even the flicker of the flames had vanished; the only way I knew how close they were was from the heat and the deafening roar of it. Have you ever been near to a large bonfire? Have you heard how loudly it crackles? That’s nothing. Big fires, they roar. They sound closer to a freight train, a tornado. It’s a sound so loud that it sets off a primal kind of terror, even without the heat and the smoke to add to the danger. What I’m saying is that it’s something that’s very difficult to crawl towards, yet there we were.

I couldn’t see the little girl, but every time I began to panic she would reach back and touch me. The heat grew and I could smell my hair burning, my clothing threatening to catch. The floor was excruciating, and while I didn’t realise it at the time, I was in the process of receiving third degree burns on my hands and knees from the floor alone. I felt faint, the heat making my head pound. It seemed to drain my of my energy, and during those last seconds – as we passed directly past the floor where the inferno was at its worst – I was sure I was running only on pure animal instinct to get away.

Then we descended into the hallway below the fire, and it was all gone. The heat lingered, but it was nothing compared to what it was before. The smoke was hazy grey, high up by the ceiling. The little girl was tugging at me, and I realised I’d collapsed to the ground.

“Quickly, mister!” she said now. “Not far!”

In my pain and confusion, it didn’t occur to me that she wasn’t burned; that she had no difficulty breathing. She tugged hard at my clothing, and while I didn’t know that my clothing was alight at the time, later I remembered and wondered how she had done it. With her prompting and encouragement I made it down the last of the stairs and out into the hotel’s lobby, which was shockingly untouched. Alarms were blaring, but the room was free of smoke and many of the hotel’s employees remained there, grabbing people as they emerged, coughing, from stairwells and hurrying them outside. When I stumbled into the lobby I was immediately tackled by several employees who were, I was later told, beating the flames from me. I had stumbled into the lobby on fire.

I don’t remember anything else. I didn’t have time to mention the girl. I passed out, and was kept in a medically induced coma while my body recovered from serious burns. I very nearly didn’t make it, and when I awoke I had several months of painful operations and skin grafts to go. My hands were badly burned, though the doctors managed to save nearly all my fingers – I’m only missing the little fingers to the first knuckle, and while the scarring is bad I can use the hands well. My knees are badly scarred but functional. My back isn’t pretty to look at, but it doesn’t bother me now, not outside of itching in the heat. I forgot about the girl until just before I was released from hospital, five months later, but to my relief I was told that no children had died in the fire. Whoever she was, she had gotten out safe.

Almost a year later, my grandfather died. He was the son of my firefighter great-grandfather, and when my own father and I were around his house, sorting through his things, we came across some of my great-grandfather’s stuff. Medals, a few old photographs of the family, some letters. My father and I went through the pictures, my father pointing out relatives and telling a few stories here and there. What you would expect from such an occasion, really – but then I found an old picture of a little girl.

I recognised her immediately as the little girl I had seen in the hotel – there was no denying it. The picture was an unpleasant one, taken post-mortem, and while half of her body was badly charred the other half looked as though she could be sleeping. Her hair was the same, the bow singed but present. The dress was the same. I could even still hear how she sounded. Come on, mister! I was so shocked I didn’t say anything. My father looked at it for a long moment, and then he gave a sad sigh.

“I wish he had found out who she was,” he said. “That haunted him. He felt like he failed her.” He took the photo from me and looked a little more closely at it. “Nonsense, of course. He did everything for that little girl. I’m sure she would thank him if she could.”

She did, I thought. She did.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #back at it again with the spaghetti afraido

[isayoldbean]

okay there seems to be a degree of interest so here you go. the intro to an au i was gonna write before my anxiety meds murdered my writer brain. uhh for reference this fic is set in 2017, with their ages being the same as they would be in canon at that point (so like... 28ish i think?)

---

Setsuna had several regrets right now.

She wasn't sure what they were exactly, since she couldn't remember anything after the fifth drink, but she knew that whatever she had done, she had regretted it.

Actually scratch that, that fifth drink was definitely on the regret list. Drinks one through four weren't looking like such a great idea, either.

Everything hurt.

Am I... am I dead...?

No, that couldn't be it. She didn't have any first-hand experience with death, but she was reasonably sure it wouldn't involve quite this much pain. Even for somebody like her.

A bus, maybe. I got hit by a bus.

Possibly. But in that case she'd most likely be in the hospital. She didn't hear anything to make her think that was the case, though. Might as well just open her eyes and take a look.

Except as soon as she dragged her eyes open white hot glare like the sun radiating off the concrete in August, burning through her eyes and leaving charred husks behind in their sockets--okay, so no doing that for a while.

At least she got enough of a glimpse of her bedroom before she was overwhelemed to know that she made it home last night and had not, in fact, been hit by a bus. So there was that.

Ugh, I want to die, she thought, sinking further into her pillow. Work is going to be hell today.

Oh. Right. Work.

She should probably call in and let them know she'd be late today.

Except her body was just so heavy. It was almost like there was some external weight pressing down on her from above, pinning her in place. She couldn't move so far as an inch without something groaning in protest. Perhaps that was to be expected, since until a few moments ago it had seemed perfectly reasonable that she might have spent part of her evening wedged underneath 30 tons of public transport. And besides, she could barely remember her name right now, let alone what she might have done with her phone last night.

She sagged back into bed and the weight pressed down on her even more, filling her with warmth and soothing her malaise, even if just the slightest bit.

Surely it couldn't hurt to rest for just a few more minutes...

---

She had no idea how long she'd been out, but at least her head seemed a little clearer.

The pain was still excruciating, of course, but it had mercifully lowered itself to the point that she could tolerate it now. The strange pressure still persisted, but she supposed that would pass with a little more time, too.

Maybe now she would have the clarity to piece together what had happened last night.

She knew everything had started when Tsukuyomi showed up. Most things did, after all.

Honestly, she still didn't even know how Tsukuyomi had known they would be there. She certainly hadn't told her about it, and knowing how the others felt about her, she was sure none of them had either. And yet somehow the nuisance had figured it out, and suddenly there she was, gluing herself to Setsuna's side and not taking any hints that she was making her feel uncomfortable as hell. And that's when Setsuna had started drinking in earnest. The last thing she remembered was finally managing to peel herself away from Tsukuyomi's iron grip and letting everybody know she was going out to get some fresh air.

Not that there was really such a thing as fresh air on the Vegas Strip. But hey, she was drunk at the time.

Was she ever.

And now she was paying for it.

God, are there really people who do this all the time? For fun?

She didn't know if that was impressive or just sad.

Well, either way, that wasn't really the issue.  The issue was that she had a killer hangover, and several hours of her life were apparently completely missing, and probably since she was at her house in her own bed she couldn't have done anything too terrible, but that didn't really eliminate all that much in the grand scheme of things and what if she got some really embarrassing tattoos or wound up appearing naked in some video that would go viral and her bare ass was going to be plastered all over the six o'clock news and oh god--

--Stop it. Take a deep breath, just like your therapist taught you. Okay. Now think it through logically. Tatsumiya probably knew exactly what she had gotten up to last night--she was weirdly prescient when it came to Setsuna's behavior, somehow. She was probably sleeping in the next room, so all she had to do was get up and ask her. And if for some reason they hadn't gone home together, her number was on speed dial. That would more than likely settle it. If not, then she could panic again--but Tatsumiya would be there to walk her through it, so she wouldn't risk spiralling quite so much.

But before any of that--none of this would be an issue if she didn't get a glass of water right now, because if she didn't then Tatsumiya would be discovering her dessicated remains in about five minutes.

She attempted to roll out of bed, but that strange heavy feeling held her in place yet again. She frowned. Seriously, what?

Maybe if she sat up, instead...

It was decidedly difficult, but she was at least making headway, even if her muscles were groaning in protest every step of the way.

Until it registered that the protesting she heard was most definitely not coming from her muscles. In fact, it wasn't coming from her at all.

--Oh.

Oh shit...!

Please don't be what I think it is--

With agonizing slowness, she traced a path down from the ceiling, to the wall, to the end of the bed, to the covers bunched at her waist, to--

--there, draped over the left side of her body, so obvious in its existence that she could only stare in disbelief that she had only just noticed it, was the smooth expanse of a girl's back.

She suddenly felt unbearably cold. Then unbearably hot. All of the blood in her body pulsed through her system at once--one single time, then twice, then a third time. Then it didn't seem to move at all for such a long period of time that Setsuna had decided that she was probably dead. Yes, her soul had leapt from her body, and she simply hadn't yet had time to process that she had died. A strange way to go and not at all how she'd pictured it happening, but if she was honest with herself, death from mortification was probably exactly the sort of thing she should have expected all along.

Only as soon as she had accepted that her life had ended, adrenaline reared its ugly head and sent her blood fizzing back through her body with such force that it practically knocked her out of bed.

That was when the ugly little gremlin known as panic sunk its teeth into her hindbrain.

Fight or flight engaged itself.

Flight won.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT--" She kicked and thrashed her way towards the edge of the bed, not really sure what she was doing or where she was trying to go, other than as far away from the naked woman in her bed as possible. Depth perception was a thing of the past, as was the concept of distance, and soon Setsuna felt herself lurch and become weightless as she slipped over the side of the bed and went sprawling into a heap on the floor.

The shock of the impact jarred a little bit of awareness back into her, and she stared back up at where she had just been with wide, disbelieving eyes.

There was a naked girl up there. In her bed.

All of the beds in the city of Las Vegas, and a naked girl wound up in hers.

This... wasn't something that should happen to somebody like her. No, this was firmly in the category of Things That Happen To Other People, And Probably Only Ever In Movies. Movies she'd never watched, at that. What was she supposed to do in this kind of situation, anyway?! She didn't know the protocol.

Oh man I'm so fucked.

Rustling sheets and incoherent mumbling refocused her attention away from her burgeoning anxiety attack and back to the reality that she was currently sharing space with another person. That she was about to have to interact with. While hungover and scared out of her mind.

We've been over this already. Stop. Take a deep breath.

If the shuffling noise she heard was any indication, the girl was moving closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to coming face to face with her. The moment of truth.

Take a deep--

A head poked over the side of the bed and peered down at her with soft, warm brown eyes, bleary from sleep and confusion.

Setsuna forgot about the breathing thing.

"Um. Hi," the girl said, a hesitant, sheepish smile creeping over her face in spite of the circumstances.

Then Setsuna forgot about everything else, too.

She was... really pretty.

Wow, I am extremely fucked.

#Negima #Setsuna Sakurazaki #Konoka Konoe #KonoSetsu #Tsukuyomi Iwai #i've forgotten my writing tag oh geez

[femtopulsed]

Celery V Cane: Pt 3

The third part of this “series” where I rant about how terrible this fight scene is.

read pt 1 and pt 2 here

She attacked—faster and faster, stronger and stronger. Cain laughed, and she almost screamed in anger. Each time she moved a foot to trip him, each time they came too close, she either became clumsy or he stepped away, as if he knew what she planned all along. She had the infuriating feeling that he was toying with her, that there was some joke she didn’t understand.

So I’ve said before one of the staff’s greatest advantages is reach, so she should not move close in enough to trip Cane. I’m also not sure about how he managed to fend of a barrage of strikes from a staff unless Celery is moving much slower than she thinks she is.

Celaena whipped the staff through the air, hoping to catch him upon his unprotected neck. But he deflected, and though she spun and tried to knock him in his stomach, he blocked her again

Alright this first movement is not something I would ever do against a prepared sword wielder because it can be blocked so easily, and after blocking the sword wielder can quickly close that distance. After he deflects, she spins a full 360 degrees to try and strike him in the stomach, which leaves an unprotected back and that hit is also really easy to block. Once again Celery should be dead.

She grinned as the shaft of her staff slammed into his side. He bent over, and her leg lashed out and swept him off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. She raised her staff, but a sick feeling rushed through her so powerful that her muscles slackened. She had no strength.

So Cane has taken a full force blow to the stomach, and then immediately bends over, which is not realistic. What should actually happen depends on where exactly he is hit, but if it hits on any of the floating ribs then they are broken and if he gets hit on the liver he’ll be on the floor. Cane’s musculature means he could probably take a full force blow to the muscles on the side of the abdomen. 

Even if he is bent over, tripping someone using your legs requires a lot of force and you usually need to be heavier, or you will break your ankles in the process. It also can’t be done on a much heavier opponent unless you throw your entire weight with it, so it can’t be done while holding a staff. It’s also easier to kick him in the liver, activating a nasty reaction which will send him to the floor.

He knocked aside her blow as if it was nothing, and she retreated while he rose. And that’s when she heard the laugh—soft, feminine, and vicious. Kaltain. Celaena’s feet stumbled, but she stayed upright as she dared a glance at the lady, and the goblets on the table before her. And that’s when she knew that it hadn’t been wine in that glass, but bloodbane, the very drug she’d missed in the Test. At best, it caused hallucinations and disorientation. At worst . . .

Cane is on his back on the floor and manages to parry Celery’s hit. The solution isn’t hard - just hit him again but go for somewhere harder to block like the groin. Letting Cane get back on his feet wasn’t a good move as well because as you get up you are completely unprotected.

I’ve talked about how bloodbane doesn’t do this here, but if you’re not bothered to read it Celery should be in excruciating pain or dead by now. Also there was wine in the glass. Duh. Do you think it’s all poison?

She had difficulty holding the staff. Cain came at her, and she had no choice but to meet his blows, barely having the strength to raise the weapon each time. How much bloodbane had they given her? The staff cracked, splintered, and groaned. If it were a lethal dose, she’d be dead by now. They must have given her enough to disorient her, but not enough that it would be easy to prove. She couldn’t focus, and her body became hot and cold. Cain was so large—he was a mountain, and his blows . . . they made Chaol seem like a child . . .

If she has difficulty holding the staff, Cane’s hits mean its been knocked out of her hands by now. At this point her attacks are slower than his, and Cane is close enough to hit her with a sword. She has no chance in surviving. The staff should also be split by now, judging by Cane’s body weight.

He slammed his fist into her spine, and she only saw the blur of the slate tiles before they collided with her face.

There’s no recovery from this. He’s probably hit hard enough to damage the spinal cord and she definitely has a concussion. I’ve never experienced either of those but I know you absolutely cannot fight like that. 

Her breath came fast and hard, and her knees ached as she stumbled upright, charging at him. Too fast for her to block, he grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and hurled her back. She kept upright as she tripped, and stopped a few feet from him.

Again, if an opponent is on the floor you don’t let them back up. Also why is he far enough away for her to charge at him? I’m pretty sure she still has the staff, so that reach means Cane can’t grab her. She also shouldn’t be wearing something that you can grab on to, and I’m confused as to where she was thrown. Did Cane somehow manage to grab her and throw her behind or in front of him? Logically it makes more sense if he throws her behind him but the text suggests he throws her in front. Oh and she should be on the floor yet again because Cane literally threw her.

Celaena shot forward with a sweep of the staff. Wood slammed into steel. The staff snapped in two. The iron-tipped head soared to the other side of the veranda, leaving Celaena with a piece of useless wood. 

So it;s the inevitable moment I’ve been waiting for: the staff snapping. I’ve snapped my staff before swinging at another person, and it does not fly that far. It’ll go maybe 3 metres and then keep rolling but it won’t fly to the other side of the room. It also says a lot when Celery says that the piece of wood she is holding is useless, she now has a sharp stick which will splinter and cause extra damage if she stabs him. 

Alright its getting too long yet again so I will make another part tomorrow.

[voltagesmutter]

Loves Force [Chapter 1]

Wanted to try something new of doing a short series rather than just one shots and pure smut.

Pairing: Victor x OC [Bella Holland] (Read about her here)

Description: University lovers broken apart, the two adventure of life’s journey with separate paths only to encounter each other years later.

Warnings: SFW, None for this chapter, expect visits from our favourite Bidders from KBTBB, flickers from 3rd person to 1st.

Victor stood proud in his oxford uniform, blazer crisp and tie sharp, freshly polished rounded flats laced up tightly. His arm tightly around the blonde girls waist, curving in on the tailored blazer and holding her close to him. The white ruffled skirt came just above her knees just skimming above the knee length socks that ran down her legs. The rolled parchment of their degrees, both of business, both wrapped in a red ribbon and held proud in front of them. A perfect photo of the head boy and girl, a perfect relationship, smiles to be captured forever in a moment in time. Teachers and students alike cooed over them, how they admired to be like them, to be them. If only they knew the pain that was hidden behind their smiles, the excruciating torment of the freshly broken up couple trying to hold back the tears in order to not ruin the day. 

A firm handshake was all he left her with, two years of romance and love now ending with a meer friendly gesture. “Goodbye Victor,” was all she could manage, unable to bring her eyes to meet the purple ones she fell in love with, knowing if she looked her heart would shatter like it had done so the night before. They parted ways, she left, him right. She never turned back, missing the longing gaze from Victor as he let the love of his life walk away from him.

That day meant to be filled with happiness shared between two lovers, a reality of nothing but pain was now a distant memory to her. Or so she thought.

-

Clutching the letter a little tighter with her left hand, her right index finger massaging her temple as she let out a heavy sigh. 

“Dear Miss. Holland,

Your grant for a loan from LFG has been approved, a meeting with Bernard Burnett has been scheduled for August 21st 2020 at 10 am.

Please bring all the relevant documents as stated below. 

Please arrive at LFG approximately 10 minutes before your scheduled appointment.

Thank you for choosing Loveland’s most approved funding. - LFG”.

Every bank she had turned to had refused her business loan, even with a high stake reputation and successful business none of them was ready to take a gamble on her. In the end her last hope was to try with LFG and luck would have it that they would be interested. Whilst she didn’t want to go to her ex-boyfriends company she had little choice and there was no way that Victor could possibly know “Holland Designs'' was her company. Thousands of people applied for loans and funding there everyday, regardless if it was Victor's company or not, he wouldn’t know that it was his ex-girlfriends own business he would soon be investing into.

It had been six years since she’d last seen Victor, she never doubted for a second the sheer power and domination that man had once he set his mind to something which is why it came as no surprise to see him conquering the business world before the age of 26. They’d both gone separate ways and it was clear enough to see that Victor had made his dreams come true.

Whilst heavily pleased and relieved at the loan acceptance, she never thought she would have to actually step foot into the LFG building. It felt almost daunting, potentially being in the same building as Victor though the chances of actually seeing him would be slim to none.

“Boss is everything okay?” Luna, her assistant, poking her head through the open door after hearing a sigh of frustration.

“Huh? Oh yes, yes sorry, got lost in thought, no everything’s fine thank you,” Bella smiled, waving the hand up that had held the letter, “LFG replied, we're getting the funding,”.

“Oh that’s excellent news! I told you they wouldn’t turn us down,” The young girl relied, full on enthusiasm as always.

“Yes, I have a meeting in two days with them, will you clear my schedule for me for then please,”.

“Yes of course, shall I send out an email to inform the others?” The sound of tapping flooding through the open space.

“No that’s fine, I’ll let Terri and the others know later,” Bella replied, now turning her attention to the computer screen before her, “Luna, will you shut the door please,”.

“Of course!” The sound of the oak door shutting, leaving Bella alone in her office. She took a deep breath before sinking lower into her leather arm chair. Why was she so worked up and anxious over this? She knew what she was doing the minute she looked at the LFG application form, that this was Victor's Li’s company. Victor had probably forgotten about her, their relationship had ended six years ago and it wasn’t as if her applying for a loan would change anything. She’d probably never even see Victor in person again, only online in the rare interviews he did. The latest being on a show called “Miracle Finder”, a show that lately had a range of celebrity guests and professionals appearing on it. 

In all honesty she’d slightly forgotten about Victor, he was in the past, but that was difficult when Loveland’s most upcoming desirable bachelor appeared everywhere. Like a ghostly presence, whether it was a fake news article in some trashy magazine, a stock profit margin LFG on the news, a flashed photo of his face as he left from a restaurant. He was everywhere even though he was no longer in her life. It was only until the day she applied for the LFG funding did he truly cross her mind. If she ever did run into Victor she doubted he’d even recognise her, whilst she hasn’t changed since the last time they met, she’d slowly blossomed from a fresh university student of age of 22 into an independent woman with her own company. Nothing much physical had changed about her, she was still the petite blonde with a curvaceous figure, truly blessed and rewarded as she took great pride in maintaining her looks. Beautiful and brainy is what she was often referred to by her employees, a statement that still made her blush regardless of how many times they said it.

-

“To Holland Designs!” The clink of the shot glasses meeting with a round of roaring laughter, silence followed closely by the sound of hissing from individuals as the tequila burned their throats.

“To LFG approving the loan!” A similar movement followed after the bar-tender refilled their glasses. 

“To you, boss,” Terri guesting her glass in the motion of you, the others following with the same enthusiasm, a heavy blush creeping over your cheeks with a giggled laughter. The third tequila made your eyes water, the sour taste making your jaw clench as you shook your head, turning the shot glass upside down on the wooden bar.

“To-“ But your hand signalled them to stop, three shots was well enough, anymore and you’d be on the floor, telling the world your life story.

Taking a seat at the bar, guesting to the barman for some water, slightly disappointed you were unable to hold your liquor like you used to. Envy taking over to watch some of your younger employees throwing shot and shot back, something you could have done just as easily at their age, but now at the ripe age of 28 alcohol proved to hit you a little harder. 

“So, pretty great news right about the funding right?” Terri sliding to the seat next to you, clutching her latest designer bag to her. Seriously she had a new one every other month, you dread to think how much money she spent on them.

“It’s brilliant, we can finally look at expanding the workforce and hiring new talents, we’ll be able to branch out to bigger clients,” You smiled, taking a sip of the water the barman placed in front of you. 

“And how are you feeling about a certain Mr.Li?” The words make you choke slightly, spitting water out over the bar. 

“What are you on about? The funding has nothing to do with Victor!” You hissed, grabbing a napkin and wiping up the spilt mess.

“Oh Bells, you're my best friend don’t play coy, you can see something’s bothering you just from the expression on your face,” You rolled your eyes at her comments, “You also pinching your wrist, you only do that when you feel anxious,”. 

“I just- it’s not weird is it? Applying to his company for a loan, letting him be our investor is it?” You questioned, turning your gaze to focus on the lipstick stain on your glass, a snorting chuckle coming from your best friend.

“It’s business hun, and who cares? You're not dealing directly with him are you?” You shake your head, “Well then, I doubt Mr.Li takes time to read over every company investment, he has people who do that for him, beside you and him are old news how long ago even was the breakup again”.

“Six years this year… But true, I just expected to be accepted with our form and that be that, I have to go on Thursday to meet with Mr.Burnett, take all our profits and margins, expectations and such with me,”.

“Well that’s easy enough, just show them the fab work we’ve been doing,” Terri patting her bag as if to say ‘look at all the profit we’ve been making’, “Oh and that Ichinomiya man! Don’t forget to mention him!”.

Oh yes Eisuke Ichinomiya, one of the wealthiest men across the pond who was a billionaire tycoon, the owner of a luxurious hotel called “The Tres Spades”. He was also a dear friend, a former pupil in your year who you’d grown close with alongside Soryu Oh and Luke Foster. The four of you and Victor were the best of friends during your university days often referring yourself as: the brains, the beauty, the playboy, the vitamin addict and the silencer. An odd bunch to say the least but somehow it just clicked. 

Eisuke had shamelessly flirted with you for the first year of university, it wasn’t until he learned you and Victor were dating that he backed off. Instead the flirts blossomed into friendship and before you knew it you were swept up in the ways of luxury with the four boys.

Luke and Soryu were the two you were least closest with, Soryu just didn’t like women but for you he made an exception and Luke was far too busy investing in his time into the bone structure of your cheekbones to actually have a conversation with you. Mornings spent together were some of your fondest memories of university, Victor sitting with his black coffee, Eisuke throwing in half a pitcher of milk and five sugars into his coffee, Luke chewing on some vitamin gummies and Soryu devouring an omelette.

You were relieved in a way that Victor and you split up the day before graduation, meaning neither of you would have to sacrifice your friendships with the others. After graduating you and Eisuke kept in touch, when you traveled the world he gracefully extended an offer for you to stay at “The Tres Spades” in his penthouse whilst you were in Japan. You’d have been a fool to say no. Getting to spend an almost month in sheer luxury, witnessing how the other half lived as you resided there, a pleasant surprise to find Soryu was also there. He was still as awkward as ever, only maturing into a more handsome man, with looks that could kill. Although it turned out he literally could kill, the silent man now being the second head of a mafia gang. Luke also made an appearance, a fully fledged doctor but still with the obsession of bones, constantly trying to get a touch of your cheekbones, jawline and collarbones. 

“Don’t be creeped out pretty lady, he’s been obsessed with Eisukes collarbones ever since he saw him shirtless,” A overly friendly man named Mitsunari, ‘please call me Baba’, told you one night. 

It was nice to be back in the company of your old companions, the only thing missing to complete it was Victor but since graduating the tight knitted friendship between him and the others fell apart. You didn’t pry into it, Victor was no longer a part of your life or clearly there’s and the four of them had their own reasoning for falling out.

So when you finally returned home and kick started your own business, Eisuke was more than willing to lend you a hand, being one of your first clients. “Holland Designs'' was all in one company, it did brand recognition, website building, graphic design and soon to be event organisation. Eisuke was expanding overseas to Dubai with his chain of hotels, he wants your company to be the ones who created its new brand ‘luxury for the wealthiest’ which you and your small team worked tirelessly on. Needless to say it was a huge success and thanks to Eisuke it skyrocketed your company, within eight months of starting you was now a growing company with some big clientele’s. You were the director of it all managing with clients over their needs and demands creating bespoke contracts, Terri was the website creator with a team of two to manage the content, Ron was the logo and graphic designer who had an assistant and then there was Luna who was your assistant/receptionist. Small but mighty with the sheer determination and drive to succeed. 

“Yes I’ll be sure to showcase our work for Eisuke, without him I fear we wouldn’t have had such a successful launch,” You made a mental note to do a bigger portfolio for your meeting on the work you produced for him.

“And don’t get worried and worked up about Victor, the reality is you won’t ever see him,” Terri taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You’d met Terri whilst travelling, ‘a budding coder on a journey to find herself’ as she put it. The likeness in personality and views on life quickly grew into a strong friendship, she was the brownie to your blondie, the Thelma to your Louise. Even though she’d only been in your life for two years, she was the best friend anyone would wish for and she knew you inside out. The experience of heartbreak brought you closer together, sobbing over too many cocktails as you both spoke about your first loves, telling her everything about your university love with Victor. 

You weren't hung up on Victor, god no, you’d been in a causal relationship or two since then. But it was always difficult forgetting your first, he was your first everything, first kiss, first boyfriend, first love, first sexual partner. He had been such a big part of your life especially being the “role model couple” in university, you head girl and him head boy, a staring couple destined to make it together forever as everyone said. So when the thought of him potentially inching a way back into your life, it triggered a lot of past feelings, feelings you thought you’d forgotten.

-

You spent the next day preparing for your meeting, stacks of documents lying on your desk as you printed out more to add to the pile. Even though your company was still fresh, just under a year old, your profits had exceeded almost five times the prediction with a long list of clients wanting to be your next project. You and the team had worked tirelessly to churn out projects, some wanted new logos, some wanted a brand re-boost and makeover, some wanted websites, some wanted the whole package for a new start up company. The workload was a consistent flow and the reputation was even better, the name “Holland Design” soon becoming a hot topic in the business world.

You left the office earlier than normal, a goodnight sleep was well deserved so that you would be fresh and ready in the morning. Even though the loan had been approved, tomorrow was vital to ensure and secure the funding. You had to prove and sell the company, yourself, to the leading investors of all of Loveland.

You dressed up slightly more than normal, hair slicked back straight. Makeup applied more of the natural side, a striking bold cat flick eyeliner settled behind your thick lashes, a pink tint of blush gracing your cheeks paired with a nude lip. A white shirt with long sleeved tucked into the leather pencil skirt, the top button undone just to give a slight peak of your “secret assets” and a pair of black heels. The rose gold watch encrusted with small fragments of diamond, a gift for your degree from your parents, sat snuggly on your wrist. A quick spritz of perfume, the same perfume you’d worn ever since you turned 20, leather folder in one hand, the designer Chanel bag Terri insisted you borrow in the other and you were ready.

-

The sound of your heels clicked along the marble floor as you took a seat on the leather sofas of the reception of LFG, the receptionist smiling sweetly and telling you “Mr. Burnman will be with you shortly”.

Undoing the bound of the folder, skimming over once more of the portfolio you brought to represent your work, nerves ablaze inside you as one of the most important meetings of your career was about to happen. It would deem unprofessional to sit and play candy crush on your phone whilst waiting, instead reviewing everything you had brought hoping time would pass quicker.

Crossing your legs, left over your right, the busyness of the lobby seemed to stop in silence. Peering up from the documents you watched as the employees came to a still, each of them bowing respectfully their heads turned towards the revolving doors. Curiosity peaked inside you, a sudden dropping feeling in your stomach as your eyes wander up to see him, Victor. He waltzed through the floor, oxfords hitting the pavement in striking steps, the black suit tailored perfectly to his body. He still looked like the same young man you had been in love with, now only more mature, shoulders broad with a jawline so sharp it could cut paper. The photos of him never did justice for the sheer handsomeness of him, unable to obtain the small gasp that fell from your lips. And that was when his purple eyes fell upon you, the look of slight confusion at you without faltering his pace, a young man with round glasses running after him to match his pace. There was no doubt he saw you, he looked directly at you but almost as if he didn’t recognise you, looking straight through you. With a blink of the eye he was gone and the lobby picked up from it’s stilled place in time.

Your heart stammered with speed, the pair of you shared a glance but Victor looked at you as if he had no recollection of who you were. The long scarf perfectly balanced atop his suit jacket, the way his hair was perfectly in place just like it was when you were in university, the deep pooling of purple in his eyes, dominance and power radiating with each step. The ability to capture a room without saying a word.

“Miss. Holland, Mr. Burnman will see you now,” The receptionist called out, bringing you back from the longing gaze of the spot where Victor had stepped out from. With slightly trembling legs you stood, taking a few deep breaths to try calm the nerves from the meeting about what happened and seeing your first love, you followed her down the corridor.

“Thank you miss,” You smiled at the receptionist , being ushered into a small office, a young man greeting you with an eager smile.

“Ah Miss. Holland, do please take a seat,” He gestured to the empty seat sitting across from his desk.

—

Victor knew the minute he saw “Holland Design'' on the proposal scheme that it was her. He knew from the name alone, the name she always declared would be the one for her business, “I want my company to have a strong reputation, and what's better fitting than a friendly name?” she would so often recall. He’d first come across it when he saw the press release of Ichinomiya’s new chain hotel in Dubai, where she was standing proud beside him, of course he’d been invited to the opening but it was a bleak affair he didn’t want to attend. He almost choked on air to see her beside him ‘Bella Holland, leading entrepreneur of Holland Designs’ captioned below. She still bore the same smile she always had, like the one in their graduation photo, a smile that would light up the room. Ever since then he’d kept tabs on the name, watching in eight months it start to dominate in the business world, more and more company’s reaching out to be part of their work. 

What he never expected was to see the name on the document before him, a loan application for the business to help them expand their work force and new ventures. What he equally never expected to see her sitting in the lobby of LFG when he entered that morning, he’d approved the loan personally there was no need for her to be here.

“Goldman, the blonde in reception,” He questioned the minute the doors of the elevator closed.

“You mean…” He hummed, flicking on the screen on his tablet and scrolling down, “Ah Miss. Holland, Bella Holland,”.

“Why is she here,”.

“Let me look,” A moment of silence filled the elevator as it travelled upwards, “She’s here for a loan consultant with Mr. Burnman from accounting, his personal request”. The doors opened and the two men took a few steps forward towards Victor's office doors, in one swift movement he removed his scarf and handed it over to Goldman.

“Clear my schedule, send Miss.Holland up to my office after she’s done,” He nodded, pushing open the doors and shutting them behind him as he walked in, no time for questions from Goldman. 

Whilst he kept his cool on the outside Victor nervously paced through his office, running a hand through his hair. The way their eyes had met across the lobby, the glossy pool of blue hadn’t changed a bit as they locked eyes for only a mere moment. He had felt his heart tremble slightly to see her, six years of nothing for her to be sat in the reception of his company. She was the one Eisuke so often referenced to her as “the one that got away” but she hadn’t got away, Victor had pushed her away. He threw himself into his work the moment after graduation, building up an empire, trying to forget about her and yet maybe it was some cruel trick of fate that she would be brought back to him?

“Mr.Li, Miss.Holland is on her way up,” Goldman’s voice coming through the speaker of his office phone pulling him from his pacing movements. Clearing his throat he took a seat behind the mahogany desk, dropping all emotions on his face to return to that unbreakable poker face. But the soft rasp on the door, the meek, “Mr.Li?” and watching as she slowly entered his office, the cracks of it began to slip.

[Chapter 2]

Victor and Bella, university photo.

#idk i did a thing #something new for me idk #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mr love victor #mr love queens choice victor #mlqc victor #mr love li zeyan #mlqc li zeyan #mr love mobile #mr love fanfic #loves force #sfw #kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya

[lilchairstacker]

For Margo (Original 2018 Version)

This was a story I wrote almost four years ago, that's crazy to think about. It's fourth anniversary is coming up in March, but I don't remember the day I finished it. I've shared this on DeviantArt and with @wyldespiderraptor and that's about it, so I'm glad I'm able to share it here. This is very old, so it might be a bit rough, but I'm going to rewrite it too. Hopefully it will be much better, but I hope you enjoy.

February 16th 2063.

For years now, Mount Everest has been a restricted area. The area has been polluted with dozens of dead bodies and equipment from previous ventures. 

Now, the Mountain has been reopened to the public.

But now, everyone has lost interest. The summit is dead. 

Except for one man. Everyone stopped climbing up the mountain, until Ulysses Zoltan did it. Alone.

~

Climbing up the massive mountain took several weeks to do, so that they could get their body used to the altitude. But that was for a group. For Ulysses, that was a few months…

No one had been that close to the mountain as him in twenty years. 

He had no idea what was up there. 

Since the shut-down, the tectonic plates of India and China have continued to press against each other, making Mt. Everest a few centimeters taller every year. And it had been twenty years since anyone had measured it. 

No one had ever climbed the mountain alone, and it was dangerous to do with seven people. 

If he was hurt, there was no one to save him. But he wouldn’t have been alone… if Margo Shure was still there. 

Ever since they were children, they had dreamed of climbing up the mountain, until it was restricted. When they were both twenty-five, they got married, and they were only married for four years when she was diagnosed with cancer. 

A month before that, the restriction on Everest had been lifted. That was when Ulysses pulled out their old plans to climb the summit, before she got any worse. 

But they didn’t make it…

Now he was there, alone, in the weather that was hundreds of degrees below zero. He had no way of knowing how close he was, or anything. He had the old standard tools. No technology. He had sold as much as he could to make it this far. Plus, in those times, technology for people in his class had no use for it anymore. 

He had a tent, a compass, and old map, and a journal to keep track of everything he did, so if that anyone found his things, or when he got back, he could possibly publish it to show to the world. 

Ulysses laid in the warmth of his tent, or little warmth. Somehow, he had managed to keep a fire in his lamp alive. He had an oxygen mask on his face, and he kept two large tanks with him. 

He was doing this for Margo, and he was taking her with him. He was taking her bottle of ashes up to the summit.

He opened up his journal, which in the front he had tried to shove every picture of them he could to keep with him. 

He had written a lot, he had started writing in it ever since Margo… passed…

He began to write in the journal:

‘Day 104.

I think I’m close to the summit, but I’m not sure how much farther. It’s lonely and dead up here, it’s so quiet that it sends a different kind of chill up my spine. The headaches are getting worse, I may catch severe altitude sickness before I make it. But I can’t, or I won’t make it. I don’t have much food left, and my oxygen is running low. I just hope I make it. 

I don’t care about making it back anymore, I want to make it up there for her.

All of this is for her.’

       ~

The next morning, the wind was extreme. Ulysses quickly gathered his things and shoved them into the massive back. He threw it over his shoulder onto his back. He quickly pulled his hood over his head and his mask over his eyes. 

Once he stepped outside, he was almost blown onto the ground. He held his lamp with a shaky hand as he tripped out of the tent. 

And it blew away.

He watched with dread as the tent was thrown far away by the vicious wind. 

He took a few moments to realize what had just happened. No tent. 

That meant he couldn’t rest. It would take him almost another month to get down, this time, with no tent… 

He slowly turned to face the wind and snow coming at him. He couldn't see anything anything… 

All he could see was the ground. And he could barely see that. He began to slowly stumble forward, the wind almost blew him over several times. 

He continued for hours, hiking up the mountain. 

Ulysses passed several frozen-solid tents and equipment that hadn't been used since he was a child.

As he climbed through the vicious storm, several memories came back to him of him and Margo as a child. 

They loved to play like they were hiking up the mountain, but back then, they had no idea about the real struggles.

But it was still cute. 

Ulysses was often a bit nervous around her, but Margo didn't mind his nervousness. 

She helped him through his fears and helped him with everything. Ever since she passed away, he had barely been able to keep their house. 

He wasn't paid enough to pay the bills, especially in that time… 

He looked up after a while to see that it was getting brighter. 

The storm was clearing up. 

When the snow dissipated, he saw the true horror… 

Bodies, dozens of bodies. Everywhere. 

Ulysses stood in front of the bodies in shock. He had no idea how bad this was…

All of the bodies were coated in frost and snow, some were barely visible under the snow. 

Several flags from other countries were stuck in the ground next to the bodies. 

That's when he realized it was deathly silent. 

He stayed silent, as if he was waiting for something to happen. 

He didn't know what, because he didn't know what to do… 

He began to slowly began to trek around the bodies as much as he could. It was very challenging. He sensed he was probably stepping on buried bodies from years ago. These bodies must’ve been twenty years old. 

He hated to disrespect their deaths… but he had to get up there. Now, he knew he was close.

~

He thought he was close, but he was about two hours away.

It had been the longest day of his journey to the summit. He had nowhere to rest anyway…

He had gone through one tank now. And he was running low on the one he had now. He wouldn’t make it down…

He was wheezing a bit now, since it was getting hard to breath. And he couldn’t get fresh air. 

Suddenly, he managed to make out and edge. He saw the summit. It was there, almost 500 feet away. 

A small bit of hope arose within him when he saw it. He smiled under the mask.

He shoved off his backpack and began to run to the summit to the best of his abilities. It was more of a limp  at that point. 

As the mountain got more steep, he began to slightly crawl up it, since he would fall backwards if he tried to walk up it. 

As he came within two feet of the summit, he caught a glimpse over the edge of the summit.

He stared in amazement for a moment, and then finally stood on the top. 

The highest point on earth. 

From that point, he could see the entirety of the Himalayas. And he could see the curve of the earth, concluding that the earth was a globe. 

Over a few mountains he could see the sun slowly setting, as it cast a pink and orange glow across the clouds below him. 

The sky was a blueish black, since there were no clouds outside of the atmosphere. He could see the many distant stars, he could make out a few of the planets in that solar system. Below he saw a large drop, and then the mountain disappeared down into the clouds he was once in. 

A few tears dripped down Ulysses’s face under his mask.

Margo would’ve loved this…

He slowly took out his journal and began to scribble something down quickly before he put it back in his pocket. 

He took out a large silver jar.

Her ashes. 

He opened the jar and threw the ashes out all at once. 

They slowly floated down beneath the clouds, and it was done. She deserved this. 

Margo was a great person, she didn’t deserve to die so young. But her body deserved a good resting place. That was on Mt. Everest.

Ulysses pulled out a folded up flag from his pocket as well and tied it to a stick. It was a flag he had made for her when they were little. It was when he admitted to her he liked her, and that was when they began to date. 

He stuck it in the ground on the summit. Originally, it said: “Margo.” Now, he had modified it. The flag now said: “For Margo.” 

He had taped several pictures of them to it from the journal the previous night. 

Ulysses stayed there for a moment, he was getting dizzy, because he no longer had oxygen.

But it didn’t matter. He made it.

He was okay with death, death was a habit with humans. 

And he had finally done it. Margo deserved this, and she deserved more…

Ulysses began to sway a bit.

And he fell forward. 

His body smashed into the hard rock, breaking several of his ribs and ripping off his hood, mask, and goggles. 

His body came to a stop on a clearing in the cloud. 

His blood began to soak into the snow and stained his clothes. 

Pain. He was in excruciating pain. He had never felt that much pain before. But, it was beginning to numb from his lack of oxygen. The altitude sickness was beginning to bring in pain as well. As his brain felt like it was swelling, and his blood began to burn. 

The wind against his face was viciously cold, he would surely die of hypothermia before anything else. 

His eyes began to flicker closed as his movement came to a stop. 

That’s when the pain went away. 

He opened his eyes slightly, he felt very confused. It was no longer cold, and there was no pain. 

He closed his eyes again when there was a bright light in front of him. 

He put his hand up in front of his face and began to stand up. And somehow, he was standing again. 

Ulysses pulled his hand away when something blocked the light a little bit. 

It was a person. 

But no one could be alive there… no one. He was alone.

As the figure walked closer, he could make out who it was.

It was Margo. 

Several tears began to run down his face when he saw her, he smiled a little bit.

She held out her hand to him, which was something he was waiting for for a long time. Ulysses slowly grabbed her hand with his own. 

She smiled, “Come on, I have a few things to show you.” 

~

‘Day 105 

I did it. 

Rest in peace Margo W. Shure, 2039-2058. 

I can’t wait to see you again.’

Ulysses Zoltan climbed Mt. Everest alone in 2063. He was the first man to ever climb Everest alone. A few months after his death, an expedition group climbed the mountain, and the journal was found and was published in 2064. 

#short story #romance #writing #books #everest #for

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

Reunited

Good Omens! Crowley x reader

TW: I lil gore and I called Gabriel a Bitxh, I describe what I think falling from heaven in the GO universe would look like, so if you don’t want to read about flesh melting in Sulfur (Which boils at a temperature almost 700º above that of human skin ;) yeah, I do research and know weird things) you prolly shouldnt read for your own sake

I had wayyyy too much fun making this, I think you’ll like!

(Holy shit, this is 5 pages long in google docs 0-0)

—-

"You're done." Gabriel says, staring at me with cold eyes, he was only a few feet away, standing with his arms crossed

"I'm sorry?" I ask, looking up at him from whatever I was doing

"Head office has caught wind of your comments at the almighty, might I remind you of what happens when you ask things like that?" He says coldly 

"You're going to kick me out for one question?" I ask, my jaw dropping "Angels haven't fallen in forever, you have no idea what they will do to me! You can't do that!" I say, anger resonating through my vocal chords as I speak

"That isn't my problem. Come with me, you know what happens if you resist." He replies, turning on his heels and beginning to walk away

I sigh, tears welling in my eyes as I abandon what I was doing to follow the archangel, not wanting to invoke the wrath I would surely be met with if I didn't.

I waited until he had me at the edge, where all the others had fallen thousands upon thousands of years ago before saying anything, he was ready to send me off quietly, no ceremony or anything, just a quiet riddance of the angel hardly anyone liked - not since Raphael, anyway.

"You know, I never minded you so much, Y/n. Pity you have to go out like this." He says, looking at me with some form of pity

"You know Gabriel…" I begin sweetly, picking my head up to look at him "You're a real bitch." I finish, clenching my fist and straight up decking him as hard as I can in the nose before diving off the edge.

He screamed angrily and I looked back up at him, giving a small wave as I felt my body gain momentum.

I'm not sure I really processed my actions before going through with them, the demons weren't likely to just accept me outright, I would probably just be outcast, or killed or something. I couldn’t be sure of anything right now, not even sure if they would let me call myself a demon at all once I got to hell. All I know is that I’m falling right now, my body feels weightless and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. 

My wings unfurled as a natural response to falling only to be snapped backwards by the force of the wind, causing me to scream in pain as the bones cracked, feeling the white feathers peel from my wings. I fell for what seemed like hours, the pain in my wings continuing throughout the time, and I cried, sobs racking through my form as I left a trail of tears falling behind me. 

When I finally made it to hell my body hit what was the most painful landing imaginable, the scent of sulfur invaded my senses and I felt my angelic flesh begin to melt in the boiling liquid. It had to have been well over 800 degrees, and I was almost surprised that it didn’t just end my existence immediately upon coming into contact with my body. 

I screamed, I screamed as loud as I could before my head went under, and I felt the liquid flood my mouth and lungs, destroying my cells inside and out of my body as I thrashed around desperately. I don’t care at this point what demon hears me, all I want is for someone, anyone, to help me end this pain. 

Apparently someone did hear me because it wasn’t long before a hand grabbed my arm from under the liquid, pulling me onto the edge. I didn’t have the strength to move or even open my eyes when they finally had me out of it, my body heaved as I coughed up the liquid that had entered my lungs.

“I’m dying” I sob raspily when I finally catch my breath “He said I was being cast out, but he just wants me to die.” My body curls up on itself, pulling myself into the fetal position next to this demon.

“You aren’t dying.” He says, looking at his hand, which was badly damaged from reaching into the sulfur to pull me out “Your angelic cells are, the last of your powers are going to go into creating new cells for you- demonic ones. The worst of the process is over.” he explained

“So they’re taking everything from me…” I say dejectedly, not moving my body

He looks up slightly “Yup.” He replies, popping the ‘P’

We sit there in silence for a while, him staring out at the sulfur pool while I raspily try to catch my breath. After several moments in a painful silence I finally find the strength to sit up and open my eyes, he took my arm with his good hand to help ease me to a sitting position. The first thing I noticed about him was his hand, covered in what had to be third-degree burns almost up to his elbow. 

My angelic instincts kicked in upon seeing it, and I gently take his hand in both of my own, causing him to jump. “What are you doing?” he asks, staring at my hands

“You helped me, all I’m doing is returning the favor.” I say, directing whatever power I had left to healing his hand, and his skin quickly began to repair itself “There.” I say gently, releasing his hand from mine 

“It’s going to take you longer to heal now, you really can’t be going around doing things like that down here.” He reminds, and I can feel his gaze on me 

“I know,” I mumble, staring out at the yellow liquid that had taken away all of my angelic properties including my skin itself and sigh dejectedly “So you’re a demon, then?” I ask

“I am.”

“So what made you decide to help me? Aren’t you supposed to not care about anyone else? Chaotic Evil and all that?” I ask

He takes a moment to come up with a response “I… I don’t know. I was just sort of drawn to do it.” he finally says

I think over his response for a moment, deciding that he too felt extremely familiar, his voice above all else. It didn’t take me long after that to come to the realization that I haven’t seen this demon’s face even once in the amount of time we’ve been talking. I pivot my body so I’m facing him, and I freeze immediately when my eyes meet his face.

He stares at me in confusion, slits going down his ever-golden iris’ in a snake-like manner that was unfamiliar to me. He looked so familiar yet so not, (I suppose several thousand years will do that to someone) his red hair being the thing that was the most striking - I only ever knew one angel with that pretty Copper hair of his… “Raphael…?” I ask quietly, reaching out to his face.

He frowns “They don’t call me that anymore.”

“What do I call you, then?”

“Crowley.” He mumbles, taking a minute to look into my eyes, he seems to be trying to come up with who I am through all the third-degree burns 

“Crowley” I repeat with a smile, my first smile since falling, “Tell me you know who I am, Crowley, please.”

His eyes look over my features, taking in as much detail from my healed flesh as he could, and after a moment he seemed to remember, his jaw dropped and he leaned back slightly “y-y/n?” he asks with wide eyes

My smile grows wider and I nod happily 

A wide grin grows on his features as he continues staring at me “I never thought I’d see you again!” He cheers, leaning back towards me to wrap me in his arms happily

Thankfully, at this point most of my torso had been restored, so it didn’t hurt too badly, even when I returned it tightly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to keep him close to me. “I didn’t think so either, but I am so glad…” I trail off, leaning back from his embrace

He releases me from his grip, giving me a small frown “But you’re fallen now, what happened?” he asks

I shrug “Gabriel said I made comments at the almighty, but all I really did was ask a question- I don’t even remember what it was.” I explain

He frowns “Damn, they haven’t dropped any of you angels down here in forever, I didn’t think they would be so tetchy.” he comments, earning a nod from me "you're the only one, right?"

I nod once more in reply "it was quiet, but I'm sure Gabriel has told everyone about it by now." I reply

He raised a brow "he's never been one to boast, don't tell me that's changed."

I shake my head "I mean that because I may or may not have called him a bitch and punched him before I fell, he'll have to explain the broken nose to his colleagues." I say, earning a loud laugh from Crowley

"You haven't really changed, have you? You've wanted to punch him since day one." He stands up and offers me a hand “I think we should get a drink.”

I take it with a smile, now the majority of my skin has returned from the neck down, with the exception of my wings, and I can do things without excruciating pain. "I believe you're right." I say with a smile, allowing him to pull me to my feet "But Raph- I mean Crowley, I've never been on Earth before, won't my lack of skin and torn up wings draw attention?" I ask worriedly

He smiles at me “Humans are almost always oblivious, don’t worry so much” He replies, snapping his fingers

A second later I find myself sitting next to him in a really nice Bentley car, Queen playing softly over the radio as he began driving. I was startled by the transition, but I quickly relaxed, “Where are we going?” I ask, frowning

“My flat, it’s safer to talk there.” He replies

“You have a flat on Earth? Does hell know about that?” I ask, and he only shrugs in response

“They don’t really care too much, most of the demons probably won’t even notice you in all honesty. If you stick with me I’ll show you how everything works, alright?” He asks

I nod “Alright. Thank you, Crowley.” 

He nods and spares me a glance “You’re skin is growing back, I can almost recognize you.” He says with a slight smile

I gently bring a hand up to my face, finding that the flesh surrounding my mouth and upper jawline had returned almost fully, and I can’t help but smile a little.

-

Crowley kept to his word, for the next few years he would teach me how to navigate hell, to keep my head low, and what demons I should avoid. He was very kind to me, and honestly even getting the chance to see him again is all I could ask for. 

I knew him long before he fell, we were best friends, practically inseparable. We crafted the stars together while talking and sharing ideas in almost all moments of the beginning, I had even began to catch feelings for him. The only reason I didn’t fall with him is because Lucifer didn’t like me all that much, so I didn’t hang out with those who became the early demons. 

-

More than six thousand years since I last saw them and I suppose I had forgotten how much I truly missed y/n, they were always bright and fun and after a few years of time with her as a demon I wouldn’t want to go back to not having her around. She has been staying with me at my flat for most of her time here, and we spend a lot of time together between dinners with Aziraphale (Whom I learned was actually one of their few friends in heaven, the greeting between the two of them was quite adorable, especially when y/n’s face lit up happily upon seeing him and she ran to give him a bear hug) and drives in the bentley. Driving with her will forever be my favorite thing, she’s gotten attached to the old CDs in the bentley (and we all know what happens to those ;)) so I’ll often find myself being suckered into going on a drive to nowhere in particular just so we will end up singing along with Freddie Mercury really loudly and horribly. It’s now my favorite thing ever. She might be my favorite thing ever.

Now Armageddon is approaching and I can't help but fear that it's going to be over for both of us. We’re doing all we can, y/n, Aziraphale, and I, but sometimes I worry that it won’t be enough. I won’t be able to be with her in hell like I do on Earth… and yes, I mean _be with her_ be with her. 

Aziraphale suggested I kiss her, or at the very least tell her - but I’m not sure…

-

We were in the flat when it finally happened, watching some movie with Crowley on the couch and I dared lay my head on his shoulder. Armeggedon was only just short of seven years away and I wanted to make sure I had the chance to get as close to Crowley as I could just in case we didn’t make it out. I couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped my lips when he smiled, looping his arm around me and lacing his fingers through my hair as I cuddled up closer to him.

As the movie progressed we seemed to get closer and closer, beginning with his head resting on mine, sharing a throw blanket between us, and him shifting his or my weight as an excuse to pull me nearer to him, and by the end of the movie I felt like I was practically in his lap - not that I minded it so much. 

When the credits began to roll, he snapped his fingers to turn the TV off, and I found myself not wanting to move from him, “Can we just sit here for a while?” I ask, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck 

“I was going to ask you that.” He replies with a quiet chuckle, leaning down to rest his nose on the side of my face, giving me gentle eskimo kisses on my cheek, “Look at me, y/n.” he requests

“I can see you.” I reply with a giggle, turning my head towards his so we end up nose-to-nose, and I can feel his breath hit my skin gently. It doesn’t take long before he finally tilts his head to the side so he can catch my lips with his, and I can’t help but smile as I close my eyes and kiss kim back. Thousands of years I have wanted this, from long before he fell I have dreamed of this moment, I had thought all hope was lost when he did, and against all odds, here I am finally. I sit up in his lap to get a better angle, draping my legs gently over his and wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his arms wrap around my waist to hold me as close as he can before pulling away to rest his forehead on mine.

“I need to tell you something.” he says in a whisper, his golden serpent eyes staring deep into my e/c ones

I return his gaze, “Tell me everything, Crow.” I say softly

“I love you, y/n. I’m not supposed to, but I really love you,” he says softly, and I can see the honest adoration in his eyes as he speaks

I smile wide “I love you too,” I say happily “Crowley I have loved you almost literally forever.” I peck his lips one more time, pulling my blanket around both of our shoulders' 

He grinned and hugged me close, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.

#good omens crowley x reader #crowley x reader #good omens #ineffable husbands #fallen angel #oneshot #fluffy #go!crowley x reader #david tennant gives me life #good omens imagine #david tennant #reader insert

[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 1

Warning: foul language

Pairing: Choi Minho x Reader

Word count: 2k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist  

Y/N

“What... What’s happening?”

Different voices sound faint in the background. I try to adjust as my sight is still cloudy. I have no idea where I am. I start to fail catching my breath as soon as I realize that I can’t feel my arms when I attempt to feel my head where there’s excruciating pain other than the rest of my body aches all over.

Although everything is dark and blurry, I noticed that I’m sitting down with my knees bent to my face, a cloth smelling of gasoline fumes covers my nose and mouth. I’m in a cramped space that I can hardly move in, some kind of a big container. I look up and I see a small hole with light shining through.

What is going on? I can hear myself breathing rapidly.

Two men appear from above me and grab me forcefully on both of my arms to stand me up as I feel another severe pain. This time it’s somewhere on my hip.

Shit, it hurts! It hurts, it hurts. It fucking hurts!

Still catching up with my breath, my sight is fading black again while I hear drilling and hammering but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel myself being dragged as burns forming on my heels. I start to panic—trying to jerk every part of my body, trying to break free. I’d shout for help but my lips down to my throat are too dry as if frozen.

I must have passed out for a minute because the next thing I know is complete silence and complete darkness. Suddenly, in front of me appears another man with blood all over his hands and a sledgehammer in one. “Stay still,” he says.

I try to scream again and finally, my voice rips out the loudest that I can, “Help!”

“Shh, relax, this is just a-” 

“Dream!”

I jolt up. My pores drip with cold sweat and my heart throbs as if to break free from my ribs.

“It was just a dream,” I think out loud.

It’s been over a year since I last dreamt something about what happened when I was thirteen. I don’t even remember what exactly happened anymore. I just remember exactly how it felt, how terrifying it was. How I thought I was going to die. I’m not even sure how I survived, especially my surgeon. I received quite a beating from that event, such as severe bruises and deep cuts all over my body, internal bleeding along my insides. Two rib bones were so complicatedly twisted on my lower right flank that I needed surgery just for the doctors to fix them, which left a big scar down my side. I don’t know what’s worse: remembering how everything happened or remembering how it all felt. The memory of it all, although unclear...

I get freighted by the vibration of my phone against my nightstand. Jinki is calling.

“Lee Jinki, isn’t it too early for a flirtatious phone call? I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect you to pick up right away. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bad dream. Gonna take a shower. I’m late for-”

“Wait! Stop by for breakfast. It’s on me.”

I roll my eyes and hang up. Jinki and I dated shortly after college for like a week or two so nothing was serious. We’re good friends now but he’s still claiming that there is still some kind of remaining spark between us. It’s getting old so I just always assume he’s joking every time he tells me that.

I decided not to wash my hair and just let it loose since I really am going to be late for work and I hate to bother going out with wet hair. I get dressed, I go for a pastel pink long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted light blue jeans and my ivory cream high-top Chucks. I don’t bother for any makeup, which rarely happens, and rush out the front door then lock it behind me. 

I hop on a cab taking it that there won’t be a bus stopping any second now.

I arrive at Jinki’s café, which is just on the next parallel street of the flower shop and just two neighborhoods away from home, “Hi, I’m here,” I call out even before I spot him.

“Good morning, Y/n!” Jinki greets cheerfully with his usual bright smile. “Wait, I think there’s something different,” he gestures both of his hands on my face.

“Oh, maybe it’s because I haven’t put any makeup-”

“You’re extra beautiful today,” his smile widens, and eyes almost disappear.

“-on,” I grit my teeth at him. “You shut up, Jinki! I’ll see you later,” I walk out the glass doors and nod at the barista as thanks for opening them for me.

I flash all the way to the flower shop that my sock slips off from my heel when I walk in, to already witness an early customer.

“There she is! My favorite employee. Y/n, sweetie, please come and talk to this fine lady right here. She has a lot of questions that are far beyond my energy to handle.”

“Sorry, I’m late, Mr. Lee. And everybody knows I’m your only employee who isn’t your son,” I joke back as Taemin pops in yawning, still in his morning glory.

“And everybody also knows that my son sucks at his job,” Mr. Lee shouts and smacks the back of his son’s head then points to another customer that has just walked in, ordering him to go and entertain.

As I mind my own customer, I catch a small glimpse of the guy Taemin’s talking to, who looks unimpressed. He has dark hair in a layered bowl style with his fringe covering more than half his forehead and would’ve definitely looked cuter if he smiled. They seem to already know each other. Weird thing is I feel like I’ve met him before. Was he in one of my classes in college? Does he go to the same gym class I do? 

“For the petunia bouquet, can you add something else so it won’t look so plain?” the nice lady inquires further.

“Absolutely. Maybe I’ll add some purple azaleas or lilies, or maybe both if you’d like. What do you think?”

“Great! I’ll just entrust this on you, dear, okay?”

“No problem,” I assure her, not breaking a smile while I work the cash register for her down payment, I take one more quick look at the guy, who may now think I’m creepy so I’ll stop now. I hand over the receipt to the lady in front of me.

“Thanks! I’ll come back Friday to pick them up,” she announces.

“Thank you for coming in! I’ll make sure to ready your bouquets by then. Have a nice day!” I say, still smiling, opening the door for her to walk out.

As soon as I approach the guys, the other customer, probably coincidentally, is just walking out of the shop. I don’t know about everybody else who’s met him but he seems hostile to me. 

And really really familiar. I can’t point my finger at it. “You know him?” I ask Taemin beside me.

“Yeah, we’re in a photography class together,” he tells me. “I tend to talk to him at school but he’s kind of scary.”

“Seems likely.”

“But I like him. I think he’s better once I get to know him.”

I laugh. “Anyway, what time do your classes start this afternoon?”

“2 o’clock.”

“Great. Can you deliver those bouquets due today for me? Please and thank you!” I sweetly ask him, pointing at a big box across the counter.

“Sure thing, Noona. Tell Dad I’ll be home late tonight,” he informs me while grabbing his backpack and the box of deliveries.

“Hot date?” I tease him.

“We’re just friends,” he said with a jokingly evil grin and a wink. 

“Hey, Lee Taemin, don’t do anything stupid!”

Just like that, he’s out the door before I even finish my sentence.

Lunchtime is finally here. I’ve been arranging flowers all morning and handling customers whenever somebody comes in. Although I could never complain about my job since this is what I’ve ever wanted growing up.

I was born and raised in a different city where my parents live to this day about a two-hour drive away from here, or three hours if you took the bus since it has a lot of stops and depending on traffic. I moved to this city in my first year of college. 

My mom and dad had been tight with me growing up, especially with academics, since they both have families that got master’s degrees and PhDs. At first, I didn’t mind studying hard and graduating with honors because I didn’t really know what I wanted to be in the future at the time. However, the more I aged, the more I realized that I hated studying. I’m not smart enough like my parents and my cousins and they had no idea how hard I must have worked in order for me to please them. I hated the attention whenever I received a first-place certificate or won local quiz bees and academic decathlons because, you know what, none of the trophies and medals I earned made me happy.

When I was kidnapped and held captive in some kind of box for days, all I thought about was flowers. I was missing my mom’s garden at home, and how it smelled in the morning before I went to school. I figured that flowers were all that I drew with crayons in kindergarten. It was the highlight of my days. At the time, in that container, I had foreboded that I was going to die.

Since the universe provided me a second chance to live, that’s when my life began. I did not want to be an academic overachiever, I wanted to have fun. Since then, my parents always scolded me for getting a B or a C, but I didn’t care. At least I never neglected my studies.

The day came when I had to move out to go to college and I couldn’t be more excited. Still without neglecting my academics, I started partying almost every weekend and dated whoever I wanted. Although, I honestly have never been in love before.

The rest is history, I found Mr. Lee’s flower shop. I applied for a job here three years ago, before I graduated.

“Did somebody order lunch?” Jinki walks into the shop. “How’s my love doing?”

“Fine, thank you for asking. And shut up,” I say. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me breakfast.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want my girl to starve,” he winks at me.”

“Hey, Lee Jinki! Give me a break, won’t you? I’m not yours.”

“Come on, I’m kidding. It already sank into me that you’re never gonna be mine. Plus, I actually met somebody.”

“No shit, really? Who?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m not gonna tell you now. We just started seeing each other and we’re not exclusive yet. I don’t even know if she likes me.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you moving on. Let me meet her when you’re ready.” I say to him as I pinch his cheek.

“Here we go,” he says after laying out all the food on the counter.

“Looks good, thank you,” I’m always thankful for Jinki. Even though we didn’t work out as romantic partners, I’m glad we’re friends. “Oh, by the way, Kibum is coming into town this Friday.”

“Oh, great. I only got to meet him once before but I think he’s really funny. How long ago was it when he last visited?” he asks while his mouth is full with rice.

“I think it was over a month ago when he told me the news about his engagement.”

“Looks like we have a fun weekend ahead. Although I might not join you the next day since I’m going home to my mom’s.”

“Great! Say hi to her for me.”

Chapter 2

#ktm cimm c1 #ktm cimm #shinee fanfic #shinee fanfiction #shinee fanfics #minho x reader #shinee fluff #shinee smut

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Don’t Look

Sort of Febuwump? I’m so late in the game for this one that I’m not tagging it as such but the prompt was from Febuwump. 

Summary: Before Regina casts her dark curse, a curse is put on her. One that gives inner evil a physical manifestation and mirrors onto her the pain she inflicts on others. 

Warning: Suicidal thoughts and mild gore--mostly trypopobia stuff.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. It repeats in her mind. She repeats it to herself. She doesn’t want to look, she can’t bring herself to look because she knows what she will see and she knows that it will leave her queasy and dizzy and more hopeless than usual.

She knows that she has done it to herself and that she probably deserves it. She is not a good woman. She is an evil woman. She knows this by now. It is quite deeply ingrained. She thinks that everyone will be satisfied to see her like this.

To see her twisted and broken. To see a curse ravaging her, eating her from within; bridging the ugliness she feels within to the outside.

The hate in her heart warps her unrecognizably. She doesn’t want to see it but she can’t ignore it either. Her hands are stiff, knotted and lacerated. She tucks them into her pockets so she doesn’t have to look at them. She would bury them in gloves if they hadn’t elongated.

The transformation has been slow and agonizing. She doesn’t know the extent of it. She hasn’t brought herself to look yet. But she knows that she has horns, she can feel as much. Every inch that they extend. And they extend quite far. To grow new bones is much more tormenting than to break old ones. She thinks that she would rather break every single bone in her body than to let the horns grow another inch. They get in the way of sleeping comfortably, they get in the way of a lot of things. And her head aches and pounds. Under the weight of them she thinks that her neck might snap. She thinks that she might be okay with that so long as it takes the pain away.

She curls in on herself. Everything aches. Every single inch of her. She has forgotten what it feels like to not know pain. She has forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable and safe.

She has no one but herself to blame. For antagonizing the wrong people. For filling herself far past the brim with loathing and rage. She has no one but herself to blame and so she thinks that she deserves the suffering she is getting.

On one arm lumps begin to form, they pulsate and ache and occasionally they secrete a poisonous purple fluid. On the other she finds pockmarks and craters. That arm is never exposed. The sight is revolting. It makes her sick, queasy, nauseous.

Her teeth ache too some sharpen, some elongate with her horns. They set her jaw at a bizarre and excruciating angle. She can’t close her mouth without drawing blood. Her eyes burn as well, she isn’t sure what they look like. She doesn’t want to know. She’d sooner claw them out then find out.

And her hair. It falls out in clumps and with a burning sensation upon her scalp. This is suffering, true suffering. And she does it alone. Does it alone with the knowledge that she will always be isolated. She is a monster, and abomination inside and out.

It is all the more reason to cast her curse. She can glamour herself a nice and pretty form--her old face, her old body--and she can finish the job. She will crush the heart of the thing she loves the most. Her body and soul will contort and distort hideously. But her curse will come by, it will steal the magic away and she will have relief. So long as she keeps it maintained, she will never suffer so thoroughly again.

.oOo.

It was different in Storybrooke. But she could still feel it, she could always feel it. Though the magic in Storybrooke was potent enough to keep her form intact. She had expected to wake in her bed and find herself wholly relieved. It wasn’t so; she had woken up and touched her cheek. Had felt smooth and unblemished skin. And the mirror reflected as much. It showed her the face that she had always known. But she could still feel it; each lump, laceration, hole, and horn. The weight was still heavy. Heavier than ever. Heavier and more painful until she had become numb to it.

Her curse is broken now. Broken and she can feel her body twisting back into the abomination it was meant to be. And she is terrified.

Deep down she thinks that she had hoped that someone would see her, that someone would find her lovable. That someone would be there to help her break this affliction. She finds no such person. And her window of opportunity has come to pass.

She steals away into her bedroom and waits for the magic to slam back in full. Likely she will end up sealing herself up in her vault. More likely she will mix herself up her own poisoned apple and give it a good bite.

She would rather succumb to an eternal sleep than go back to the unique brand of suffering that has been tailored just for her. The burning already erupts over her arms. She should get to her vault. With a wave of her aching arms, she finds that her magic doesn’t work. Her heart sinks and she feels faint. She supposes that she can try to make it to her car but she can barely stand let alone make it down the hall, descend a flight of stairs, and across the length of her driveway.

She collapses onto her mattress, ear against the pillow and bunched in on herself.

.oOo.

Emma stuffs here hands into her pockets and exhales as she makes her way up to the former mayor’s porch. She doesn’t particularly fancy doing a wellness check on the Evil Queen, but someone has to do it. At the very least to make sure that she isn’t in the middle of formulating another scheme of sorts.

She rings the bell twice. A third time. She exhales. For a moment she considers turning around and leaving. But an unanswered doorbell is a pretty poor sign. It might be that when she busts into the mansion she will find it vacant. She rather hopes that she does.

She picks the lock and lets herself in. The house smells like Regina, of apples and lavish perfume. But there is something else mixed in. Something copper. Something sick. Emma cringes, she doesn’t like it at all. She hasn’t yet had the ‘pleasure’ of smelling a corpse and, God, does she hope that today won’t be the day.

“Regina!”

Her voice is thrown back at her as she wanders deeper into the mansion. It is mostly spotless, though a very fine layer of dust has begun to settle on the counter. The uneasy fluttering in her tummy grows. Either the house is empty or the woman in it is…

Emma puts her foot on the first step and calls out for Regina again. The woman doesn’t answer. She stands before the door and takes a deep breath. She inhales that scent, that ill odor. It is stronger. And yet she isn’t sure that it is the smell of death, she thinks that the smell of death would be overbearing. Absolutely gag inducing.

“Regina?” She tries again.

“Leave me, Ms. Swan.” Her voice is hoarse. Some of the tension leaves Emma’s body. At least the woman isn’t dead. But she very well could be dying.

“Are you okay?”  It is a stupid question, of course she’s not okay. She doesn’t even sound okay.

Her answer is as predictable as Emma would have thought, “I’m fine, Swan. Get out of my mansion.”

But what can she do? Call the sheriff? “Regina, you don’t sound fine…” it is as much warning as she is going to get.

“Swan, don’t you dare.” She snaps as soon as she hears the doorknob turn. It falls ajar. “Emma, please.”

Emma hesitates, swallows, thinks of turning around. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay.” She knows that the woman isn’t. She can hear it. She can sense it. She enters the room. Regina pulls the covers over her head.

“Don’t look, Emma.” She says very quietly. “Please don’t look at me, Emma.” She sounds so tired. So pained.

“Stress isn’t pretty but don’t you think that you’re being a little dramatic?” She quirks a brow and musters a little chuckle.

Regina doesn’t see the humor in it. She never does, she definitely isn’t the joking sort. But she does laugh. And it isn’t a pleasant one. It is just as hoarse as her speech and twice as bitter. “You don’t understand, Swan.”

“Then help me.”

She sees the woman shake her head under the covers. “I don’t want you to. I just want it to end. Leave the door open and let them come for me.”

“Who?”

“Do you think that I don’t know that the whole town wants me dead? They’re in luck; I do too.”

Emma shifts uncomfortably. She should have anticipated that much too. Of course she isn’t taking the breaking of her curse well. She hasn’t even asked to see Henry. It dawns upon her that whatever this thing is...she doesn’t want Henry to see it either. “I don’t want you dead, Regina.”

“I need to be. God, Emma, it hurts so much.”

“What hurts, Regina?”

She is silent for the longest time. And then she reaches one arm out from under the bed. She holds it up for Emma to see. Mostly it is pockmarked and full of holes. In other places it looks raw and scaly--quite literally scaly. She lets it drop, dangling off of the bed. Emma wonders if her whole body is in such a state. She musters up the courage to ask.

“The same or similar.” She goes silent again. “Please end me, Emma. I can’t even move.”

Emma imagines something like a sunburn amplified by ten. She imagines traumatic third degree burns. And then she makes note of the way Regina’s body is twisted. Even under the covers she can tell that the angles are wrong, contorted very agonizingly.

“What happened to you?” Against her better judgement, she takes the woman’s hand.

Regina flinches but she doesn’t jerk away. She isn't’ sure that the woman can jerk away. “I cast my curse to escape a curse...among other things.”

Emma pulls the blankets back before she can stop herself. Before she can even process what she is doing. Regina lays with her right cheek turned up. Emma can’t recognize her face at all. She has the eyes of a serpent. And there are growths, growths like toadstools or, perhaps, treebark. The erupt painfully from her skin. She grits her teeth, some pointed, some elongated, some broken… “Do you understand why I need to die?”

Emma very nearly nods. “I understand why you need help.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m the savior, I promised to help everyone get their happy endings. How do we fix this?”

She thinks that Regina is crying. “We don’t, Emma. You don’t. This can’t be fixed.”

“If there’s one thing I learned about curses, it’s that they can be broken. All of them. And I’ll find a way to break this one.”

“Why?” She husks. “Why would you want to? You hate me more than anyone else in this town. You should anyways.”

“I don’t hate you.” She replies. She certainly had prior to invading the woman’s home but that hatred has given way to pity and concern. To a nagging need to give the woman a chance. “Henry doesn’t hate you. He asked me to come check on you.”

“He did?” Her voice cracks some.

“Yeah, he did.” Emma replies. “So maybe if you hang in there and let me try to figure something out, I can talk Henry into stopping by.”

“No, Emma.” She shakes her head. “He doesn’t need to see this.” She bunches more tightly in on herself and winces.

“Then let me find out how to help you and you can see Henry after that.”

“I can’t, Emma. I can’t do it anymore.” She is crying. Definitely crying.

It has been nearly two weeks since her curse has broken. That is quite a long time to be actively suffering this much. Emma thinks to squeeze her hand but that would probably only hurt her worse. Instead she rests a hand on her back. She can feel the jutting of her spine even through the blankets. “Please try. For Henry. I promise I can help you, I can ask Gold…”

“I already have. I asked him before I cast my curse.”

“There’s got to be something…”

.oOo.

She keeps coming back. No matter how many times she tells her to leave, she keeps coming back. This isn’t out of the ordinary for Swan. In fact it is almost expected. But Regina finds that she doesn’t loath it anymore. More or less, she is growing used to the woman’s presence. She is beginning to think that she would be distraught without it.

Emma takes a seat at the edge of her bed. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted for lunch so I made sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches aren’t lunch food…”

“They are for Henry.”

���Yes, with a fruit, a bag of carrots, and maybe a cookie if he was well behaved that morning.” “It’s PB&J.” Emma hands her the sandwich.

She frowns to herself but she really can’t afford to be choosy. She hasn’t had much of an appetite anyhow. She takes a bite of the sandwich.

“I’ll make pasta for dinner. Does that sound good?”

“Well enough, Swan.”

Emma smiles. “Great. I’ve just been a little busy today, but I didn’t want you to totally miss lunch.”

She supposes that it is nice to know that Swan is thinking of her. That someone has at least a very basic care for her. She sticks to her word and comes back around dinnertime. It should make her happy. Regina isn’t sure why she feels so… She can’t even place the feeling, but it isn’t joyful. She thinks that she almost feels guilty. Guilty for having made the woman’s life so difficult despite her being the exact sort of person who would go out of her way to help everyone.

Her mind wanders back to the woman pulling her out of the fire. To setting her down and declaring, rather frustrated, that she would do it again. The fire is bigger this time. Bigger and raging and it has already burned to the bone.

Emma hands her a plate of pasta. She isn’t hungry in the slightest but she clears it, Emma had gone through the trouble of making it for her. She sets the plate aside and fixes her gaze on the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still in so much pain that I can’t function properly.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and’?”

“You’re even more upset than usual, I can tell.”

She forces herself to roll onto her side. “I don’t know, Swan.” And that only adds another layer of distress. She finds herself tearry once again. Emma rests a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t shake her off this time. She finds that it hurts less, if only a little, to have a comforting hand on her shoulder.

.oOo.

Relief creeps in, it takes its time in driving out the pain, but steadily it does. Emma rubs her back, and she does it so lightly, with such care that it doesn’t agitate the sores on her back. It is a small comfort, but a comfort no less. It is a comfort that is becoming routine.

Emma makes a point of stopping by daily, to give her her meals at the very least. Sometimes she stays longer. Sometimes she spends the night. Those nights are the best nights. Those are the nights when she almost doesn’t feel pain anymore.

“Will you stay the night?” She asks.

Emma nods. “I don’t have any plans. I’ll just go home and get my pajamas.”

“You can borrow one of mine. You seemed rather fond of my shirt the last time you stole it.”

Emma chuckles. “It was pretty comfy.”

Regina nods. She pats the other side of her bed. “There’s room if you want to lay down.”

Emma stretches her arms. “That would be fantastic, thanks!” She flops down. “I knew that helping you would come with perks eventually.” She gives one of those goofy, lopsided grins.

It is a joke, she gathers. She tries for a laugh but she isn’t quite sure that she manages. They lay in silence for some time. There is a slight tickle in her tummy as she tries to muster up the courage to finally apologize to the woman for treating her so terribly before. She doesn't quite manage, what comes out instead is, “thank you, Emma.” She clears her throat. “For staying with me and…” she gestures to the empty plates.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles. “I told you that I’m going to give everyone a happy ending, including you. No matter how long that takes.”

Regina smiles. For the first time in so very long, she smiles.

“I think that it’s working.” She takes Regina’s hand.

For the first time in so very long, she doesn’t feel a twitch or a twinge of pain.

#Once Upon A Time #Regina Mills #Emma Swan #Swan Queen #Wump #Fanfiction

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble: August 15th

Title: August 15 Rating: PG-13 Relationships: Gabriel & Georgie, Gabriel/Jonathan Warnings: References to canon character death, first person POV Summary: Doesn’t everyone have a least favorite day of the year?

Once upon a time it was just another day; it didn’t hold any meaning to me whatsoever. Now it’s my least favorite day of the year. It’s probably the least favorite day of my life, to be honest. Though I have had some pretty bad days over my lifetime. Days I thought were going to kill me; some days that almost did. There’s something about August 15th though. It poisons the air around me. It’s hard to function. My brain becomes a twisted mess. August 15th is the harbinger of bad memories. It’s the day I wish never happened. 

Over the years I’d learned that the best way to deal with it was to forget it existed. I’d try to skip over it, like hotels with the thirteenth floor. As far as I was concerned there was no 15th in August. It was easy to do that in prison. The days blurred together there anyway. In some ways, life was easier behind bars. Learning how to function outside of steel and concrete, especially on this day, that was the hard part.

I would find more and more elaborate ways to forget what the day symbolized. It’s funny. Art has always been my escape from life, but this is the one day a year where art makes things worse. Her voice lingers more when I try to paint. Past comments and compliments on my pieces echo through my mind. My hand tends to draw her face over and over again. It’s best just to avoid art all together.

The last couple of years have been hard. The coping mechanisms I had created were tainted with other memories and I had to figure out a way to make it though. I don’t think I succeeded very well. It’s funny. They say time makes things easier. Whoever came up with that particularly popular saying is full of shit. All time does is give you time to focus on everything you could have done differently. 

I see Georgie all the time, and I don’t mean in the “I see dead people” sort of way. I see her when CJ wrinkles her nose in a perfect imitation of my sister. I see her when I stare at DJ for too long. While CJ definitely took after the demon I married, DJ is pure James. Sometimes when I’m caught up in my work, when I’m not paying attention, when I see her out of the corner of my eye, I think she’s Georgie. It breaks my heart every time when she’s not.

Everything feels suffocating today, but that’s nothing new. Neither is my desire to claw my way out of my skin and slip into the abyss. Everything is too raw, too temperamental. The hedonist in me wants to open the package Kale gave me on Thursday - a mixture of different psychedelics that he guaranteed would make me feel no pain. A part of me wants to wallow in the pain. It’s the last thing I have left. 

Today is the 18th anniversary of my sister’s death. It’s also the 18th anniversary of the day I lost my freedom, the day I went to prison. We both died that day. My death was just more philosophical.

My fiancé’s body is wrapped around mine when I wake up. It’s a small miracle that I’m up before him, but I suspect he’s faking still being asleep. He knows what today is; he’s always known what today is. Fuck, he probably knows more details about the original August 15th than I do. 

He read the files. He interviewed the witnesses. He’d seen the crime scene photos and he’d been to the house. He watched me relive every excruciating detail while a jury of my so-called peers watched my face for reactions. He knows how I’m feeling better than I do. He knows more about that night than I ever wanted to know. 

His usually comforting presence against my back makes me feel like I’m going to burst into flames any minute. Carefully, I slip out of his embrace and pad to the other side of the room. I watch him for a couple of moments. He’s definitely faking. Felony slips out of the bed after me. The other dogs are strewn across the floor, but the only one spoiled enough to get to sleep in the bed with us is the baby. I’m not surprised that Felony is following me. She feeds off Jay’s emotions. She’s definitely his little spy. 

It’s too early to go to the Collective, but that’s where I’ll spend most of the day working on the fall event calendar and figuring out what the hell Kale did to the budget and payroll. We don’t need a budget, not really, but I rarely get to use my degree. It’s almost relaxing to balance the books. When I first became Kale’s partner, I didn’t realize how delusional he was when it came to how much things cost. He was spending thousands more each month than he needed to be. For as much as I love to shop, I also know how to buy in bulk which apparently is something foreign for the ridiculously wealthy.

I pull the throw blanket and a pillow off the couch in the den and wander over to my window seat. And it is mine. Clashing aesthetic or not, the one thing I insisted upon when we were making this house ours was a window seat. Before our divorce, no, our separation, I rarely used the damn thing. Now that I’m living back at home, I use it all the time. It’s funny the things you miss when you don’t have them. 

I curl up on the bench seat and almost immediately Felony jumps up into the crook of my bent knees. Within minutes I’m asleep. It’s not surprising. I could probably sleep the entire day away if I really wanted to. 

The next time I wake up I can smell bacon and coffee. My fiancé smiles at me, but he knows how I get on August 15th. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t like words today. Words are what started all this. The wrong words left my sister dead. An ill-thought out confession cost me almost 7 years of my life.

Jay wraps an arm around me and presses a kiss to the side of my head. I lean my weight into him, knowing he’s more than prepared to support me and what level of mess I become today. He feeds me a piece of bacon and I let him. I’ve learned over the years that shutting him out today makes things worse. It’s better when I let him in. After all, he’s the only other person who knows how bad today is.

I won’t see the girls today. I never do. It’s too hard for me to look at them, especially at DJ today. My heart can’t handle that level of pain. Jay is probably the only person I’ll talk to today. If I decide to speak at all today.

I know he won’t let me be alone all day. I know he’ll stop by my office at the Collective at least once, if only to make sure I eat something. And I know that once 5 o’clock rolls around he’ll come and collect me. I don’t drive on August 15th. I can’t get in a car really, especially not in the backseat. It’s too much for me today. Too much. 

“Briel?” And Jay is helping me into a seat at the island. I don’t even remember moving. “You with me, baby?”

I nod, and bury my face into the crook of his neck for a moment before letting him go so he can finish breakfast.

It’s my least favorite day of the year, but it could be worse.

#drabble #pairing: Gabe/Johnny #relationship: Gabe & Georgie