#they were the one beautiful thing in a world gone mad and so cruel

[psalm40speakstome]

They were incandescent magic

But the whole wide world was cursed

#the english #this show was way to #much for me on every level #but they #they were the one beautiful thing in a world gone mad and so cruel #eli x cornelia #cornelia x eli #eli whipp #cornelia locke #chaske spencer #emily blunt #they deserved so much better #so did so many others

[moonlightazriel]

Acotar Males: Yelling at you and watch you get horny over it

Summary: “i wish you could wrote headcanons where the acotar men yells at reader and instead of being sad or hurt, she is squeezing her thighs and has heart eyes bc it’s hot and they look so hot being mad”

Warnings: SMUT, jealousy and cursing.

Word Count: 1K

Notes: I loved writing this hehehe

Main Masterlist

Rhysand:

He’s pacing around the room, power sweeps through his control at the thought of another male flirting with you.

You notice the sour mood he’s in, sitting on your vanity table as you start to remove the jewellery adorning your neck.

“That fucker was flirting with you.” Anger laces his voice, the animalistic tune sending shivers down your spine and reaching the wrong parts of your body.

Clenching your legs for some friction as that burning rage gaze locks with yours through the mirror. Your cunt throb and you know you shouldn’t feel this way especially cuz he’s fucking yelling at you.

But all you can think is him angrily pounding on you from behind, your face pressed in the cold surface as he fills you up to the brim.

He caught the change in the scent, a cruel smirk creeping up on his beautiful face.

“You dirty little thing, you like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy as he approaches you, ready to give what you want.

Cassian:

Cassian wasn’t the jealous type, he trusted you and knew you would never cheat on him, but something about that fucker with his hands on your waist, guiding you on a very slow dance, when it should be him dancing with you, that drove him insane.

He had enough, leaving his spot by the throne in the Court of Nightmares, and grabbing you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulders like you weighed nothing, and compared to his bulky figure you probably didn’t.

“Never, ever again, let those filthy males touch you.” He yelled in your face, he had you on the tips of your toes, caged against his strong arms and a wall, his eyes looking at you up and down. “You’re mine.”

You knew he was angry at the male and not at you, but you were on the receiving end of his anger, but instead of sadness, lust coated your thoughts as they wandered to what he would do with all that anger in bed.

“Please fuck me.” You blurted, he looked at you with a smirk.

“As you wish, princess.” He said riding your skirt up and squeezing your ass, giving you a pull until you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Cassian fucked you harshly against the wall, sucking on the skin of your neck and marking you so no one would ever be bold enough to touch you again.

Azriel:

A whole day gone, he hasn't heard from you for 12 hours. To say he was angry was a light way to put things. He was simmering with rage.

And there you sat, cunt throbbing, clenching around nothing as he yells at you, the angrier he gets, the vein on his neck popping and his face getting redder, the wetter you get.

He’s so lost in his mind that he almost didn’t notice the little whimper you let out as you pressed your thighs against one another for some kind of relief.

Almost is the key word, as your sweet intoxicating scent hits his nostrils and he’s a starved man, stopping mid sentence to feel that scent, his favourite fragrance in the world.

“You’re turned on?” Sarcasm drips from his tone, he stalks closer to you pulling you up by the wrists in a swift motion. “Let’s see if you take me seriously after this.”

He sits down, pulling you on his lap, ass in the air, he slowly drags your clothes down, the cold air in the room hitting your exposed cunt.

“Just 5 slaps, and you have to count.” He warns before he descends his palm on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint of his hand and you a whimpering mess begging for more.

Lucien:

It was hard for Lucien to get angry, or even snap at you. He was just the sweetest male ever and would treat you like a queen.

You however craved something more, you wanted to ignite that fire in his veins, let it burn you and consume you whole.

Lucien reached his boiling point when he saw you bathing your eyelashes to another guy, he saw red, before gently grabbing you by the arm and pulling you with him.

You could already feel the mess in your pants by that gesture alone, but when he sat you in bed, yelling at you for letting that guy even near you, you lost all control.

Lucien took a deep breath, the fresh air mixed with your arousal awakened that fire in him, making him go to you, holding your face in between his hands.

“It was on purpose, wasn’t it?” He demanded, you didn’t trust your voice and just shook your head like the good girl you were.

“Then darling, you’ll have what you wished for.” He says, ripping the buttons of your dress open and pulling a breast to his mouth.

Eris

The day had been stressing as fuck, meetings and more meetings and more meetings, arrogant lords trying to get in between things that didn’t concerned them.

Eris felt the anger boiling to a point he couldn’t barely keep it together anymore, so he decided to call it a day and go to your shared room.

There you are, the tiniest nightgown ever, books and papers scattered around in bed, he just wanted to lay down and relax. He didn’t register his words and he regretted them as soon as they left his mouth.

“Can’t you be organised for once?” He had yelled, you looked at him, and that gaze burned your whole body, sending a wave of pleasure straight to your pussy. You didn’t even know why this turned you on, but his heavy breathing and the way he was looking at you had to be the hottest thing ever.

“I’m sorry my love.” He said in a rush, kneeling in front of you, trying hard not to look from the exposed skin of your cleavage, where your breasts spilled from their thin confinement.

“Can you talk to me like that again, while you fuck me dumb?” He took in her hungry gaze and with a hand around her throat, pulling her in for a heated kiss, he said.

“Whatever my goddess wishes.”

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhys x reader #cassian acosf #pro cassian #cassian smut #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #lucien supremacy #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien x reader #lucien x you #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris and reader

[aventxsha]

 ─── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

SUMMARY  ── It's too late.

Good things were never meant to last forever. No matter how tight he could hold on, they would still slip away when given the chance.

He was aware of it, and he knew it very well. He knew shouldn't have done what he did. He knew, that the more he was around, the more dangerous the risks were for her and her life. But he got carried away. Too greedy, too eager to have more of her. Of her love, of her warmth— Everything

Day and night, and at every moment he spent with her : He prayed for the best. He prayed and begged to let this sole good thing to remain within his grasp. He dreaded for the worst— If he had to be the one to suffer, he would have done it. He would rather die than have her suffer. But that same dread became reality before he could even had the time to react. And the results of it were exactly what he feared the most.

She was gone.

That was what she was now. Gone.

Denial was not of use at all, as much as he wanted it to be. The scene was right within his reach. The blood, scent, the appearence. They were all so real— And yet, he wished it to be an illusion, a nightmare at best. He wished, prayed for anything but this, anything but the fact that this was the cruel reality he lived in.

He couldn't even feel anything as he kneeled down to her corpse. Nor was he be able to bring himself to feel, while examining her with his ripped heart. Her blood was still dripping down. The dim light could barely illuminate the wounds of his lover. Yet despite her current state, her beauty was still preserved in a way. She was still beautiful in his eyes.

All the strenght in his body drained the more he looked at the tragedy before his own eyes, a sight he couldn't look away from. He wanted to cry, to scream, vomit. Any physical reaction could have worked, but nothing happened. he couldn't physically react. He just couldn't. He felt dishuman for a moment, and from there, an utter under his breath was all that left him :

" ..Why."

What did she do to deserve such fate? Why did she have to die?

Why her of all people, and not him?

It felt like a cruel joke placed upon him, a stab in the soul by the sword of fate herself. A reminder of the sinner that he was, of the sins he caused with those very same bloody hands that she would hold dearly no matter what. But that once familiar warmth was now gone, replaced by such a coldness that sent shivers down his spine. As if the extant light of his world dissapeared, the darkness being all he could see.

Alone again, he was. Perhaps it was his destiny to be in complete loneliness, even. And yet, life held no meaning now. There were no purposes to fight for in that darkness, there wasn't anything meaningful to him anymore.

A hollow emptiness of a shell was all that was what left of the man who began seeing hope once more, and he knew that it wouldn't take long before madness would take him completely. She was gone. And with her was a great part of himself,

for he drowned in an abyss of numbness and agony.

 ─── CLAUDIO x ATHENA , CADMUS x VERENA , VICTOR x KHLEIO

MYRA x NANAMI ( @myearts-uwu special mention for you bestie, I remember dedicating this one esp to you 💥💥 )

#❛ her anecdotes ── short fic #this can be considered a repost with a few modifications

[downtherabbithole-tumbleedition]

Momento Mori, Momento Vivere

A Tom Riddle x OC Fanfiction

Remember you must die, so remember to live.

-

'Til death do we part'. For how long should such a vow be honoured? Through thick and thin, sickness and in health... but what about when her husband turns into the most sinister Dark Lord wizarding Britain has ever seen? What about when death is no longer an option for her?

What if she has to choose between the boy she raised and the man she swore to always love?

(Cross posted on A03)

It didn't take Sabrina long to decide immortality was a twisted, haunting thing. Perhaps the idea of it was appealing; living forever in the prime of your life, an untouched form of art immune to time itself... to be the very thing men waged wars over. But it should have remained an idea, a hypothetical, an untouchable wish. Would she curse such a reality on her worst enemy?

There were perks to it, of course, it wasn't so sought after for nothing. Sabrina remained perfect, pristine, barely a wrinkle in sight, her hair as shining as it always had been rather than painted white by the cruel truth of time. Those around her spent galleons upon galleons on spells, charms or potions to undo what time had done to them, to reclaim their youth, to appear even a fraction as young as she did.

A fickle and vain thing, perhaps, but she had wondered many times if she would shatter on the inside if her beauty was stolen from her. It wasn't something she had always had, certainly not gifted to her from birth... People who have been beautiful their whole lives do not know what it's like to be unwanted, so they have no fear of being ugly. But when good looks are gained through age, one grips onto them to the point of claw marks.

But no mortal set the world on fire for youth, no, they wanted to evade death himself.

That was the point, wasn't it? The only reason Sabrina was immortal was because someone decided they couldn't bear to see her die; a selfless act, one would believe, but Sabrina knew she was only alive out of pure selfishness, the refusal to grieve her.

Death wasn't evil, he was a gift. Mortals have a lifespan for a reason, after all. There is only so much loss and grief a heart can take before it breaks, perhaps it still pumped blood into her veins and kept her body functioning, but the pitiful organ had died many years before... one too many corpses, few too many smiles. Sabrina had certainly thought she was immune to death, that the news of a friend going cold could no longer pull on her severed heart strings.

But they were so young.

Lily and James Potter had been some of her favourite students - Lily with her brilliance, James with his mischief. Sabrina really did not believe herself to have a maternal bone in her body, but even she couldn't deny the tender spot the two had carved for themselves in her heart. Green eyes, wild black hair... She loved the two like her children.

And they were gone, their souls cast away from their bodies with only a simple green spell, all because of a crazed man and a stupid prophecy. Something she could have prevented perhaps, had she tried hard enough.

So, no, Sabrina did not consider immortality to be a blessing or something worth destroying worlds for, not when she had witnessed every person she had ever loved die or fall to ruin. It was a terrible, inevitable thing - better to not love at all than have your heart beaten and abused.

“Sirius Black has been found guilty of conspiring with the Dark Lord.”

That was just salt in the wound, the blood leaving Sabrina’s face quickly enough to rival a ghost. She’d thought she was going mad when Albus first told her or that he was playing some twisted joke on her, but there was not a trace of humour on the old man’s face.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Sabrina questioned him, tone drowning in disbelief, grip almost tight enough to break the delicate tea cup.

Albus was silent, no longer even sparing her glance - the old man had always been impossible to read but she figured it was either grief or guilt, granted the two often went hand and hand for the puppeteer that was Albus Dumbledore.

Sabrina fought tooth and nail to prove Sirius’ innocence, revealing every card she had available, pulling every trick she ever knew, anything to save him from such a fate. But without Albus vouching for him, it was basically useless.

There was still that horrible feeling in her stomach, that sickening sludge of guilt and mourning - a sensation she didn’t know was possible until Sirius looked at her with those grey eyes, usually so dauntless, laced with tears and fear. He’d wrapped himself around her like a child running to their mother after hearing a scary story, as if he believed she could protect him. She had failed him and lost a third child.

Sabrina didn’t want to see Albus, not after what he’d done (or failed to do), but there was still a question lingering on her tongue. Truth be told, she didn’t want to ask it; knowing would only lead her to complications and remorse, until the guilt inside of her became too much and overflowed to impulsive actions of sympathy.

Still, it had to be asked.

“What of the boy?”

Harry James Potter, only a year old and somehow the catalyst for so much tragedy. But oftentimes a catalyst is never willing to be part of destructive schemes.

Surprisingly, Albus told her the truth about Harry (perhaps that should have been her first sign that something was amiss because the man was hardly ever truthful), but she almost wished she hadn’t known. His honesty had done nothing to ease the growing rage inside of her, only adding fuel to flame.

He didn’t put up a fight when she said she wouldn’t allow Harry to grow up in such an environment, not before she ensured it was safe with her own eyes.

It wasn’t.

On the surface, the Dursley’s seemed like a lovely family. White picket fence, loving marriage, healthy son they spoiled rotten - muggles often examined things at a surface level, leaving well enough alone lest they pry into something ugly. But Vernon and Petunia Dursley held a sinister secret, and it was the screaming baby they left in the upstairs bedroom.

Sabrina wasn’t certain how such a noise didn’t alert the entire neighborhood, but she supposed the eighties weren’t so different from the forties; people swept things under the rug, ignored them unless they were right in their face. Maybe the Dursley’s neighbors willingly ignored the neglected baby boy, or perhaps they did not care enough to hear in the first place.

She lost her breath when she saw him; forest green eyes, hair as black as night… An unforgettable scar that was sure to cause him a lot of harm as he grew older.

Sabrina had promised herself she would finally harden her heart to the world, but how could she when the boy in front of her was innocent to the world, when his only crime was being born? Would she be any better than Albus Dumbledore if she simply allowed him to suffer his entire life?

Having already made up her mind, Sabrina gently cradled the boy, silently promising to never let any harm befall him.

She didn’t know how difficult it would be to keep such a promise.

#harry potter #yandere #tom riddle #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #voldemort #yandere Voldemort #yandere tom riddle #female oc #ravenclaw oc

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Hello my friends <3 Been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter to participate in WIP Wednesday Wife Worship Wednesday! I never get to play this because Nyenna and Athis have... so, so many problems. But today we do, because Nyenna is dreaming. Having brain nonsense, really. But first, tags.

Let's go! Tagging the most esteemed @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @orfeoarte, @inquisition-dragonborn, @the-storytellers-seer, @archangelsunited and @polypolymorph!

Below the cut, part of Chapter 28 from The World on Our Shoulders.

---

She heard the wind before she felt the morning mist on her skin. Things were slowly greying, like a light after she’d hidden under her covers. The sun, maybe, though she couldn’t recall when last she’d seen it. It hid behind clouds, mimicking her own hesitation. She opened her eyes, not having realized they’d been closed before. Whatever this was, with how quickly the image changed, she was thrown off balance at best. But the mist — yes. This felt familiar. Something like Whiterun, out by the river. Yes. The tundra cotton. She could see it now. She could feel her hands and feet where they’d only been vague concepts before, and liminal ones at that. She sighed and flexed her fingers. She’d never seen Skyrim in the height of summer, but she’d always imagined it like this — warm, plenty of flowers. Even bees buzzing, working as if all was exactly as it had always been and not this odd dream-version of things. Nyenna turned her face to the sun, let herself bask in its warmth as if she was one of the scraggly trees which dotted the landscape. She reached her arms toward it, and a dusty blanket fell from her shoulders with a strange, muffled, heavy sound. “What are you doing?” came a voice. Familiar, but distant. Something ached in her chest at the sound. Athis. Gods, she missed him. Her heart hurt trying to decide if he was really here or if this was some cruel madness. Likely the latter. She turned anyway, her grey mage robes billowing in a warm breeze that cut across the plains. He was as beautiful as she remembered — all the stress gone from his eyes, none of the weariness held in his shoulders or jaw. The weariness she’d caused. “Waiting for you,” she felt herself saying, though this seemed like a lie. He accepted it easily. He ran a hand through his ginger hair, ebony mail gleaming in the summer sunlight. She closed the distance between them and crushed into his embrace, heedless of heavy layers of metal between them. He didn’t say anything, only shifted to hold her against his chest. He smelled of mead and snowberries, like he always did. The memory struck her like steel against steel. Like she’d only dreamt of leaving, and she would wake up any moment now, wrapped in his arms, skin against skin. “I waited so long,” Athis said, voice quiet and somber, incongruous with the life that thrummed through this place, like the cry of Nirnroot at the river’s edge. “I’m sorry. I was on my way back to you,” Nyenna said, and somehow, that too was a lie. She tried again, forcing the words from her throat, which still hurt. “I miss you.” “Do you?” Athis asked. Not sarcastic, nor accusatory. A question, which needed an answer. A real one. “Of course.” He accepted that, too, and kneaded the muscle of her shoulder blade as he held her. He’d looked off into the distance, eyes focused on the mountains or the clouds. Mist gathered on his beard, his armor; he seemed like a permanent fixture here, rooted deep into the soil, never to be cut down. And she loved him. The ache of it was tearing her apart. She’d do anything at all — anything — for this to be real. For this image to love her back. She looked at him and felt rootless. Unmoored. A scrap of parchment fluttering in an ethereal breeze, belonging nowhere and to no one. He took her face in his hands, expression still oddly distant, eyebrows knit in confusion. He kissed her and her eyes fluttered closed. This was was right. If she had to be lost in a dream, then she was glad it was one of Athis.

#MareenaWrites #WIP Whenever #WIP Wednesday #Athis #Nyenna #LDB/Athis #The World on Our Shoulders #tes #tesblr #skyrim #elder scrolls #writblr #fanficblr #skyrim fic #writeblr #wife worship wednesday #except this is kind of sad anyway #that's just who I am as a writer sorry lol

[ashleyfableblack]

Another piece and a bit of an excerpt from "The Festival of Serpents" a Lyra Heartstrings and Sweetie Drops cross-cultural jam, set in The Eternal Courtship AU.

Bonnie brushed through her wife's mane, listening intently as Lyra went on about her ancestral homeland…

"When I was just a little filly great, great grand-mam Flameberge used to tell us all stories about them, Selene and Marceline. She was something else."

Her smile was tinged with the nostalgic sadness of family lost. Bonnie paused in brushing through her wife's now bright orange mane to lovingly stroke her cheek. Lyra gave her hoof a nuzzle and continued.

"Great-great grandda Fortune Fair, now he was a crazy old coot. I used to think his mind was just gone. We ALL did. The way he would carry on about 'The Old Ways'. Still, he seemed so happy sometimes- like when he used to tell us about the time he actually saw Marceline."

"Met her? Isn't She one of your people's gods?"

Lyra nodded. "Yep. She gave all us Mares of the Isle our red manes and big floofy chests." Lyra puffed up the crest of her barrel- a trait normally only seen in pegasi and even then, hardly so prominent as Lyras.

Bonnie smirked and gave her wife an affectionate nuzzle. "Remind me to thank her sometime."

Lyra kissed her hoof with a proud ruffling of her fluff. "Heh. The legends differed on what She looked like. Some said She was stone gray with a mane as black as ink and huge, hooked wings with wounds on her neck like a vampire bite. Some of the old-timers said She WAS the first vampire, others said… well, She roamed the deepest parts of the woods, far from the edges of any of our villages or fields. WAY out where She could be alone, doing whatever gods do when she wasn't with Selene."

Lyra laughed heartily and began to pantomime exaggerated waves of her hooves, speaking with the raspy tones and exaggerated accent of an old stallion mariner of the Coltic Isle.

"Back in those days, before the coming of those Golden Coast heathens a unicorn knew their place. Children of the world were we, children of the isle, the soil- but our mares, they were the daughters of the wood and we KNEW our place weren't there. That was HER land and we knew well enough to respect Our Lady's sovereignty…"

Bonnie laughed as Lyra turned to her, squinting and jutting out her chin. She theatrically sipped from an unseen flagon and wiped at an invisible beard.

"BUT there were those of us who were daft enough to go wandering where we shouldn't. And I just happened to be a stallion of such dubious mettle." She cackled and slapped her flank with a huge grin. "I had just been blessed with the delightful learning that your dear grammie would soon be blessing our happy home. Being a proper stallion of the isle, the lads took me out to celebrate, perhaps a little too much, it turned out."

Her voice grew more ominous in tone. "Soon, I was full of the spirit and wandering about in the woods. Not just any woods, mind you. These were the dark places, where the light found no home. The beautiful moon herself never touched the soil and the tree bark was as black as the pitch beneath the icy depth of the seas. I felt about in the dark, terrified by my own stupidity. Even …eh… encumbered… as I was , I knew I was not in the safest of places. Birds didn't sing out there. Nor bees fly. They knew better, as I should have. The things which grew knew no hoof nor horn. Things which were not for pony-kind. Old things lived out here, dark things, dangerous things."

Lyra's eyes darted about excitedly with a panicked glare "It was soon I heard their laughter. whispering in my ears. Taunting me, teasing, just on the edge of hearing, like shadows in my mind. They hissed and giggled- cruel, mocking voices like needles dipped in honey and hate. EVIL voices cackling tiny shrill things, threatening me with madness. I ran as I never had, tears in me eyes. I knew it would be my last night on the sweet coast of my family. My last thoughts would be fearing for your grammie and how I'd not be there to greet her into this world.

But then, I saw…"

She lifted a hoof and pointed to the distance, suddenly very still, reverent.

"The voices stopped. EVERYTHING stopped. The world itself froze in dead silence, like winter had claimed it all. The only way I could tell you I yet lived, sweet lassie, was the pounding in my chest and the blood, rushing through my ears. The eyes. Two spheres of green flame, floating in the dark. They drew me in. It was like looking into the maw of the serpent herself at the end of all things."

"She came from the dark… like nothing I had ever lain eyes upon. The most …beautiful and terrifying mare a body had ever beheld. Her ivory coat seemed to sprout from the dark, glowing like a star- like I was watching creation unfold. A body as lithe and graceful as the music of the wind. She had fetlocks that seemed to flow in a breeze all their own and a mane as crimson-red as the blood of Equis' own soul, trailing down to the grass. She towered over me, looking down with those eyes. Impossible eyes. They were… like looking into time. I could see our village being built, stone by stone. I saw the faces of my own dear ma and da, falling in love at the sweet summer festival. Meeting my sweet beloved Flameberge in the flower of our youth. I saw the birth of our first foal, and felt the cold across my gut of four stallions carrying my mortal remains to the pyre. There was no doubt about it, I was in the presence of The Wood Herself, The Great Mare of Soil and Stone and I was an idiot in the very deepest of trouble."

#my art #mlp g4 #mlp au #mlp au lore #the festival of serpents #lyrabon #lyra heartstrings #bon bon #sweetie drops #bonnie #love #lgbtq #lesbian #culture #cultural erasure #mlp oc #eternal courtship #ashleyfableblack

[ota-division]

Chinami's Thoughts on Saga Division

Ayaka Kagawa

It had been a while since Chinami had done one of her divinations. Due to her work, plus preparing her sisters for the D.R.B., it had not left a lot of time to see what her competition was like. Hopefully, with her schedule now free, she would have more time to do so. And today, she thought she would delve into the history of a recent time, Saga Division, a.k.a. the Bloody Divas.

"Kagawa Ayaka."

The crystal ball, reacting to the name, begins by displaying a picture of a girl, no more than five, dressed up in a frilly dress. She is standing with her hands down in front of her, on a stage in front of hundreds of people. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, and it makes her shy and scared. She doesn't like doing this, but she does it because she has to. Because she knows it will make her mother happy. Because... because she knows she will be punished if she doesn't do well. The scene ends as her name is called and she stands under the spotlight.

The scene shows the young girl sitting in her room in the dark on her bed. She tries to ignore the aching feeling in her stomach as it growls and rumbles constantly. She is so weak, so tired, so... hungry. So very, very hungry. She'd kill for just a scrap of something to eat. Even if it was just garbage from a dumpster! ...But no, her mother wouldn't allow it. This was all to make her beautiful. And models didn't need to eat, after all. The skinner they were, the more beautiful they were. That was the way of the world, right? If you're skinny, you're beautiful. If you're not skinny, you're ugly. And she wasn't beautiful. No, she was ugly. Ugly as ugly could be...

The scene changes to show the young girl being bound on what looks like a hospital bed. But this wasn't a hospital, no... this... place, if it had a name, it could be called the Devil's Workshop, because only mad and cruel things happened here. And the young girl was the unfortunate subject in this experiment. But who was it that was experimenting on her? Who would subject a girl not even in her teens to this sort of depraved and inhumane torture? Who else, but her dear old mother. 'This is for your sake', she would say. 'This is all to make you pretty.' Yes, she would be pretty. Pretty... as a doll...

In the new scene, the girl, who is now a teenager, struggles to walk, as she has to be helped by another girl, and a cane. Her torture at the hands of her mother was finally at its end. But the cost was great. Too great. The bones in her body were all chipped or broken. Her limbs which normally should bend, were now straight and firm as if they were made out of wood. Though her mother was gone now (not that the girl cared at all), her "experiment" proved to be a success. She had created a living, breathing "doll"...

The last scene plays out as the girl is now a lot happier than she has ever been. Though adjusting to her new body has proved difficult, with the help of her older sister and her friends, she has slowly, but steadily been improving. ...But the question is, does she still view herself as a person? Though her mother is long gone, she can still feel her presence whenever she is crying or her joints start to ache. It always brings her back to that horrid time in her life. The time her mother made her into her own version of what she pictured her to be. Will she ever be free to be her own person? Only time will tell...

Mizuki Minami

"Minami Mizuki."

The scene opens showing a young girl with glasses living in a dirty, impoverished hovel. Her hair is dirty and her clothes are rags. She is sitting in her room, or what could be called a room, as she listens to her mother complain in the other room about the number of bills she has to pay. She hates this life. Why was she born into it? Did she do something wrong in a previous life or something? Ha, who was she asking these questions to? It's not like anyone could answer her. The scene ends as she lies on her bed, wondering when things will get better.

The scene changes, showing the girl much older. She is standing outside, along with a bunch of other people as she looks lifelessly and solemnly at her parents. Normally, she'd be happy to see them, but not now. Maybe not ever again. After all, how can you be happy to see someone when you will never see them again? How can you be happy for people who decided to kill themselves and leave you alone? How can you be happy for two parents who were supposed to put their own child first, but didn't? It was wrong, it was unfair. It was just... it just wasn't right. But what could be done about it? They were dead, she wasn't. As the scene ends, the girl only has one thought: she hopes that two of them killing themselves was worth it.

The scene shows the city of Saga at night. A young man is walking down the sidewalk, cautiously watching everything around him. He jumps at the slightest noise, seeing enemies and shadows all around him. It is obvious he is scared of something... or perhaps, someone. He continues looking all around him, but finally breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches his home. He walks up the steps of his patio and reaches the front door, fiddling with the lock. Suddenly, he hears someone whistle behind him. He instinctively turns around and comes face-to-face with a gun in his face. The man's breath catches in his throat as his life flashes before his eye. The scene ends as the two continue to stand there in a standoff.

The last scene plays out showing the bespectacled girl in a bedroom on a computer, smiling as she is answering questions from her viewers. Her life, though still not exactly perfect, is far better than it has been before. She has friends, a good-paying job, and a better place to live. ...But she still feels the threat of her parents' sins hanging above her head. The sins of the parents must be passed onto the child, unfortunately. Will she meet the same end as the ones who gave birth to her, afraid and left with little other choice than to put an end to it all before someone else does? Only time will tell...

Megumi Kagawa

"Kagawa Megumi."

The scene opens up showing a young girl sitting in a chair in front of a mirror as a woman far older than her applies numerous amounts of make-up on her face, trying to make her look older and prettier than she already is. The girl tries to keep still as the woman will lecture her again if she moves again, messing up her work. The girl doesn't know why she always has to do this. She is constantly forced to endure this treatment just because her mother enters her into these stupid beauty pageants. She hates them, and she hates this. But her mother wouldn't understand. She never understands. The scene ends as the girl continues staring in the mirror, wondering just who it is that is staring back at her.

The scene changes to show the young girl sneaking into the kitchen of her home. She is careful to not make a sound less she wakes up that monster wearing a human skin called her mother. She carefully grabs a loaf of French bread from the top of the fridge and quickly, but quietly races back to her destination: her younger sister's room. Ever since her sister had been coming in last place in the beauty pageants, her mother decided to punish her by telling her she wasn't allowed to eat anything, which was just stupid. Why should her sister be punished for something she had no control over? And it wasn't like she wanted to enter the stupid pageants anyway!

Knocking on the door quietly, she enters and looks as her sister is asleep. Gently shaking her awake, she shows her the bread, which prompts the girl to quickly take it and start eating, not caring. The girl sits down beside her sister, smiling sadly at the thought that they were both prisoners in their home.

The scene changes to show a dark street in Saga. A young familiar girl wearing a hood walks down a street until she turns and heads into a dark alley. Normally she wouldn't be in this seedy part of town, but she had a purpose for coming here. She looks as there is someone else in the alley with her: an older man also wearing a hooded jacket. She says not a word as she walks up to him. She opens her palm, revealing a large stack of bills. The man quickly takes it and counts it. He nods his head, pockets the cash, and reaches into his other coat pocket, pulling something out. The girl looks as it is a small black loaded gun. He holds it out for her to take it, which she does. Their business concluded, the two walk out of the alleyway together, and turn in opposite directions, going their separate ways.

Just why was this young girl buying a firearm you ask? For revenge. Revenge against what those monsters she calls her parents had done to her sister. She could have forgiven them for many things: entering the two of them in those damn beauty pageants, starving them, locking them in closets, and even joining the damnable government. But when they started experimenting on her, starting turning her into something other than a human being, that's where they crossed the line. And she was going to make them both pay for it. Oh yes, punishment was coming...

The final scene plays out showing the girl in her current form as she is sitting in the student council room in her school, going through a bunch of reports. She is helped by a bunch of other students who smile and are friendly with her. Though she may have had to do some heinous things to set her and her sister free, she has no regrets. ...But how long can she hold tight onto this secret? What will happen to her and her sister if someone finds out? Can the horrible truth about her parents' murder remain a mystery? Only time will tell...

Bloody Divas

With 78 cards in front of her, Chinami takes a deep breath and quickly, but efficiently flips over three of them, as if already knowing by heart which ones to choose. The first card featured a warrior standing inside a carriage that was upside down (The Chariot - Reversed). The second card featured two men walking in the snow in front of a church (The Five of Pentacles). And the last card features a familiar woman holding a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other, upside down (The Justice - Reversed).

The crystal ball begins to play out important memories in the life of these three women. The moment Ayaka was told her parents wouldn't bother her anymore, the day Mizuki began her streaming channel, and the day Kagawa and Mizuki became a couple. All three have endured hard times, but have become stronger for it. But will that strength be enough to defend them when Chuohku's evil machinations come into play? Only time will tell...

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #chinami chinen #birds of prey #ota division #saga division #ayaka kagawa #mizuki minami #megumi kagawa #bloody divas

[psalm40speakstome]

“But that star of yours, next time you see it, look to it’s right. The wolf beside her won’t never change.”

they were

one beautiful thing

in a world

gone mad

and so so so cruel

#the english bbc #the english #eli x cornelia #cornelia x eli #eli whipp #cornelia locke #chaske spencer #emily blunt #I have a lot of feeling about them

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Madness Mansion of Helter Spider 16

꒷꒦˚︶꒦Previous꒷︶꒷꒦˚Chapter Sixteen꒷꒦˚︶꒦Next꒷︶꒷꒦˚

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

You choice the childish white king.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

"ヾ(=`ω´=)ノ”meow!!( Here.)" You point at the white king location, remembering his a friend of that cruel Hatless Mad hatter. You wish to cause chaos. "Meow! Meow!!( Can we cause chao? I want vengeance!!) (=`ω´=)" you ask him which cause him to chuckle and lick your face in approval.

"meow (=①ω①=)(of course. Mamcat will help you!)" Cheshire cat happily agree as he pick you up by the nape again and the two of you once again travel through portals but somehow the further you go from the mansion something seems to be off.

.

.

.

"(^˵◕ω◕˵^)meow. ( We're here.)" The two of you arrive in a beautiful white palace, you all look at the people who seems quite happy around each other.

"... Meow?? ( How come they seems different from the people of that place?)"

"meow.... (~￣³￣)~( That place is the Deep Dark Web. So little kitty start with hard mode )"

"... Meow?! ( H-hard mode?? Wait .. d-do you know who I am?)"

"meow...(´･ᴗ･ ` )( your not Alice nor my real cousin. I was like that too. But I'm here in this world now.)" He seems to know bunch of things.

"meow meow?!?? ( Ehh. Won't we get penalty for speaking like that??)" You look at him nervously, your full tail end standing up straight from panic.

"meow...??? (ㆀ˘･з･˘)( did you experience the penalty? But it don't seems to be completely put upon you.)"

"MEOW???!! ( HUH? THATS NOT ALL OF IT?)"

"meow. (´･ᴗ･ ` ) ( how many bones that one have, those have to be broken in the same number. It seems you only gone through five or so. There still 200+ or so more.)" He pat your head with his paws thinking what kind of though did went to your mind to activate such thing.

"..." You were in disbelief. "Mewo.. (how come we aren't getting punish by the world now?)"

"meow!! (^˵◕ω◕˵^)( cause we're nothing but cats. The world will ignore none human figures and is so kind to cuteness actually. (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) " he says as he lick your fur again when he saw it become messy.

"me~oh! ( How can the world be that based.)"

"meow. (´･ᴗ･ ` ) ( I don't know. But isn't it good? Only us who knows about it. )"

"meow... ??(why do you tell me through. I'm not your cousin.)" You look at the people from down the tree.

"hmm... Mewo (◍චᆽච◍)( your quite bold to claim me to be your cousin. I'm actually second distaste by others next to hatter. Now your under my care. Your mamcat precious now. (≈ㅇᆽㅇ≈)♡)" he pats your head again before he look down when he saw an orange haired young adult walks around holding a huge crayons.

"meow. (◍චᆽච◍)( now we catnap previous white king and blame vermillion bitch kind (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡)" as he said that he gives you a cute little shoes. That appear when portal appear in front of you guys. "Meow ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡( wear that and wave it to a direction and you can get surprise! First gift from mamcat.)" He says and you stared at the little paw shoes.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Do you accept the gift ?

Oh how curious what could the surprise be~

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

#twisted Wonderland AU: madness mansion! Helter Spider!! #Madara Mikejima x reader #ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstar x reader #enstar

[melanielocke]

You've Reached Alastair

This is the story I was talking about earlier, based around the premise of You've Reached Sam by Dustin Thao. Writing this made me cry and now you will cry too. I don't know why I did this. I don't think I'll be repeating it.

CW: major character death

It had been a week. Thomas knew he was supposed to get out of bed, but he didn’t know where to find the strenght. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Everything felt wrong, and Thomas didn’t see any way it could be fixed. It was too late. Alastair was gone. And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t gotten mad… if he’d just insisted they talk about it. If he’d comforted Alastair better. If Alastair hadn’t stormed out of the house… So many things that could have gone different, so many scenarios in which Alastair was still alive.

Thomas forced himself to get up only because there were some things he needed to clean. Alastair would be mortified if he’d let this place get dirty, he’d always been a neat freak. Thomas wasn’t sure he would be able to clean the house to his standards, but he should do something. Cordelia had asked him to gather Alastair’s belongings, so she and her family could look through everything and decide what they wanted to keep. Thomas wasn’t sure yet. His first instinct was to keep everything. There was still some of Alastair’s scent left in his clothes and Thomas didn’t dare wash anything. He might lose it forever.

Still, he went through Alastair’s closet, to see if there was anything he could find that Cordelia might want, or anything Thomas really wanted to keep. Hidden between the clothes, Thomas found a little box. In it, a beautiful ring with a tower on it. The Carstairs ring, Thomas guessed, but why would he have hidden it in the closet? Realization dawned on him. Of course. Alastair had been planning a proposal. He’d waited for the right moment, and the moment had never come.

Thomas’ feet couldn’t hold him up anymore, he collapsed to the floor and burst into tears. He needed Alastair here, with him. They were supposed to get married, have a life together. Alastair wasn’t supposed to be dead because of one stupid mistake. One breakdown, one time running away from home in tears, one time getting run over by a car that had swerved onto the sidewalk.

The driver had been drunk. It was a cruel sort of irony, that Alastair’s life had been made into hell by a drunk and then ended by one. Even when Alastair’s father had been dead for many years now.

Thomas went through his phone. Pictures of him and Alastair. The last text messages they’d sent each other while Thomas was at work, the day it had happened.

Thomas didn’t know why he looked up Alastair in his phone’s contacts and hit the call button. He knew it was pointless, but he just wanted to hear Alastair’s voice. Even if it were just one more time. He’d never gotten to say goodbye, not while Alastair was still there to hear it.

‘Hello? Thomas, is that you?’

Thomas almost dropped the phone in surprise. Was that really Alastair? It sounded so much like him, but Thomas knew it was impossible. He’d been there when they’d taken Alastair to the hospital. He’d been declared dead the moment he’d arrived. Thomas had seen his body. He’d gone to his funeral.

‘It’s me,’ Thomas said. ‘Alastair, is that really you? Am I going crazy?’

‘You’re not going crazy. It is me.’

Thomas hesitated for a moment. ‘Are you… alive?’

It took just one word to shatter Thomas’ world all over again. ‘No.’

‘Then… how am I speaking to you? What is going on?’

‘I’m not completely sure. I don’t think I can explain it. It’s just… you can still call me, and then we can speak. You could have a chance to say goodbye.’

‘So, you can’t stay,’ Thomas said softly. ‘This is not forever.’

‘No. You don’t have to say goodbye now if you’re not ready. You still have time, you can call me more than once. How have you been, Tom? I’ve missed you.’

‘I miss you too,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure I can live without you, that’s how much I miss you. You don’t know what it means to me, to hear your voice again.’

‘I think I do,’ Alastair said. ‘I don’t know why this is possible. But I can hear you again. I’m so sorry for getting upset that day. I don’t know what came over me.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Thomas said. ‘About that day, I mean.’

Alastair was silent for a moment. ‘Okay. But just so you know, I don’t blame you. No one would. You don’t always know how things are going to turn out and it’s no use going over it in your head once it’s already done. Trust me, I know.’

Thomas didn’t know how to respond. It was exactly what he had been doing. Going back in time, thinking up scenarios where it didn’t happen. Where Thomas had not been mad, where he’d been able to comfort Alastair better.

‘Can you tell me anything about where you are now?’

‘I’m not sure that I can. I don’t think I could describe it if I tried. There’s no way back though, that I’m sure of. I already looked everywhere.’

‘Is it nice, at least?’ Thomas asked. ‘Are you at peace there?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not sure being at peace was ever a possibility for me. It’s rather lonely. I miss you and my mother, and Cordelia. I can’t talk to any of them, just you. And you have to call me, I can’t call. Or well, if you don’t pick up a call from me then we would lose the connection forever.’

‘Then you definitely shouldn’t call,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ll call you, as often as you like. I’m so sorry you’re stuck there all alone.’

Something played through his head. Alastair had been rather lonely… ‘Did you meet my sister Barbara by chance?’

‘No. I’m all alone here. I think I could move on and maybe I could find her… but then I’d lose the connection to you. I have to stay here. I’m not ready to lose you just yet.’

‘Me neither,’ Thomas said. ‘How long will the connection last?’

‘I don’t know. Only that it will never be long enough. Are you at home right now, Tom? I need you to search through my clothes. There’s something there I need you to find.’

‘I did. I found the ring. You were meaning to propose, weren’t you?’

‘I’d thought about proposing that night. But you were home so late and then I got so upset… It was unfair of me to be mad at you for that. I hope you’ll keep the ring anyway. To remember me by. It would mean a lot to me if you did. If people ask, you can say I did propose before I died, and you just hadn’t had the chance to tell anyone yet. No one would blame you.’

‘I… thank you,’ Thomas said.

He took the ring out of the box and put it around his finger, wiping the tears from his eyes.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Thomas said.

‘Thank you. I hope you’ll keep it.’

‘Of course. I mean, I can’t wear it at work, because of hygiene.’

‘Oh,’ Alastair said. ‘Well, maybe you can put it on a necklace. That way you can still remember me. After all, we’re never getting married for real now.’

‘No. I guess not. But it is what I would have wanted,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s how I pictured our future. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.’

‘That’s okay. I think that’s why I’m here, for now. But you’re going to be okay, Tom. Even when we can’t speak to each other anymore.’

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @broodyhawthorne @ikissedsmithparker

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Thomastair #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #major character death

[minalblood]

Ep 7, finally! Sorry fellas took a while.

I will try to skip past the Despair destiel parallels since they've been mentioned often enough and focus on other stuff i find interesting.

Ok 1stly Carlos jokingly saying they should try jumper cables for the Ostium only to then look back at Lata judgingly was A++ friendship moments.

Love the Tony mention from Ada so much!

I will say all the shell company and warehouse talk reminds me of spn season 7 and the Leviathan plans which to be fair, the Akrida's plans are basically the same. Both hungry, some type of shapshifting beings. Kinda wanna know which came first for Chuck, cuz we know the Leviathan are meant to have been genuine creature vs the Akrida who were deliberately made as fail safe plague.

Mary big mad this ep beginning and it's all because of her worry.

God I still love the Akrida design and I also adore their growls!!! Tho I add that the fact that they can feel pain but cannot be killed save for something out of this world is hella intriguing, feels like something a, to quote Chuck, "cruel, capricious God" would do.

I adore Carlos brain! They're soooo smart and it's constantly shown in all the subtle ways but it's so consistent throughout that I love it. And not just generally, but also emotionally speaking, especially highlighted in the scene with Mary. Putting the right blame on the shifters, being honest about dealing or not with their parents death and still succeeding in bringing Mary's spirit up.

Why would John be so shocked that Henry would've written something for the MoL? Henry was a MoL so it really shouldn't be that surprising that he wrote stuff down. I personally think it's because he chose not to ask more questions because it would've fucked with him too much and he couldn't handle it.

Millie in the Clubhouse! Finally! She's still too harsh, but this time I tend to give her tiny bit more benefit of the doubt since it's obvious being in the Clubhouse is bringing up all the very complicated feelings she has deliberately not dealt with about Henry. It's why she can go from mentioning love letters with a soft gentle loving tone one moment and then insulting Henry's chicken scratch and its supposed use in saving the world. She has dealt a lot more with her feelings about Henry these past... weeks months? since all the stuff began, especially having received a clear answer about where Henry disappear to (he died), but that in many ways likely made it so much more complicated because the anger hasnt gone away but now it feels almost unfair to aim it so much at someone that seems to have not had a choice in abandoning them as she initially thought. She's still mad tho, not just because of that but also because she was never allowing in by Henry, not really, and we learn later that he deliberately distanced himself from her as well so being invited to the Clubhouse is a huge step in slotting into place what she feels. It's also why I think she demands so staunchly to know exactly what's happening because last time she didn't, Henry died.

The implication that Samuel Campbell is messy from Mary gave me such a John's room in Pilot vibes. Love that parallel (read: hate)

The mention from the Akrida possessing Roxy bout Roxy's beauty is made sooo much worse by the later episode about her possession, but with it in my mind, it give such icky vibes now. Besides the sheer disregard about Roxy's life. It makes it even more clear how much humans are just things for the Akrida to use and discard whenever. And that will only be made more apparent in later episodes.

Carlos' miiind!! The hex bag!! God I love them.

Interesting just for me I guess, but the fact that u just need to know the ingredients of a hex bag to find it, is sooo fun. I have so many questions.

I also love seeing Millie adjusting to the whole supernatural thing, her mind just going and her saying shit only to find out she might actually be onto something to them using her plan. Love that, especially love that it happens in connection to Ada. Millie and Ada have been pretty linked throughout the show so far, and I love that it's while Millie is talking to Ada, one of the few people who actually knew Henry and Henry allowed in, that she gets the idea she does. I also think it's very important that Ada does tell her the stuff Millie didnt know.

Ok, maybe controversial opinion here but I actually agree with Ada here, John is not closed off like Henry. He just isnt here. He is extremly reactive which means you will know what you get with him cuz he will make it clear, in a very bone headed way, sure , but it will be clear what he feels. There are of course things he doesn't disclose, but it aint about him being open, its just that he isnt closed off like Henry. Henry who his wife thought didnt even think of her or if he did it wasn't good terms at least toward the end, Henry who planted a protective plant for his family but never said anything about it. John, in spn, certainly does become closed off like that, id say he gets even more closed off but not this John, not yet and hopefully never. This john is just angry. Really angry, but it's still not the same insurmountable situation.

I adore Lata's excitement about all things monster.

Ahhhhhh I miss you all too Carlos 😭😭😭 #SavetheWinchesters

Nixon being Akrida is a nod to Lucifer possessing the president vibes to me.

I kinda love that Millie sold her wedding ring, it makes sense on so many levels. 1. Shes a single mom with a business to run. 2. She s trying to distance herself from the pain Hwnry left her with. 3. She is very much a dont think about it and it'll not affect you denial stage of grief person.

The music box!

It says shit about Millie that she didnt know john still had the music box all these years. It makes it clear which parts of John's life she paid attention to (or could allow herself to pay attention to) and which not.

I hate that they cant actually deal with any of the stuff because of the short window they have, but that's how things are right? both generally and def in the spn verse, you never have the space or time to actually confront the person thats traumatised you, not really, you just have small pockets of chances to process what happened in the middle of world ending events.

Fun fact, I rewatched Inside Man recently and the spell they use here to summon Henry is the exact same one Sam and Cas use to talk to Bobby in Heaven. And the fucking meaning always hurts me, cuz it calls onto dead loved ones to answers their calls/questions abd it feels like a prayer to me tbh. I also headcannon that the reason the spell works differently here is because Henry was still in the veil rather than in heaven, but ive nothing to substantiate that.

Once more Mary and John have such a genuine relationship tho, they really are honest with each other as often as they can because of the connection and similarities they felt when they first met and everything experienced since. Unlike their spn counterparts who were very much not honest about themselves.

I really love that John gets to hear Henry unequivocally say "it was my fault, not yours". It's so so important, both that Henry immediately owned up to it, and that he made sure to let John know first that it wasnt anything he did and that he wanted to explain everything.

I also wanna point out the immediate dif in Henry's demeanor once John mentions the Akrida aka work. Henry instantly compartmentalizes alll the feels he had about seeing John and getting to see Millie because he very much knows the importance. Better to have ur family alive even though you can't get closure than risk their lives just to explain yourself.

The paaaiiinnn, the emotionssss ahhhhh!! They can't get through everything they want to say but they make sure to say the things they need and my heart hurts now thx! Im very glad Millie got to see him though. It helped close another leaking wound in her. Damn this whole ep is Millie being put through the emotional wringer as much as John and Mary are. It prolly felt really good to hit the cop in the face with a bat after all that.

Love Mary's fighting advice. It shows she gets the urgency and the need to not linger on too long since the end goal isnt to kick ass, but to actually defeat the Akrida. Her hubting experience shows and her reason for doing this shows too.

I just know Lara wouldve had a field day if she couldve gotten that monster essence. So sad for her actually.

Also you know if Ada had been left to her own devices she wouldve followed Tragic Haircut and found the Akrida queens location. We've seen she can be very cutthroat when needed and her input wasn't really needed in the van, but it was needed to follow the Akrida. Thats what i think anyways. Millie for all her harshness, would never leave the kids behind. Shes suprising soft underneath it all, Ada is surpsingly cutthroat. Yay more parallel and contrasts between them.

Oh Mary, you were wrong there and it almost cost you dearly (just like how Dean going after Billie assuming shes thanosing people went wrong). Love the call back to their first meeting. Hate the despair vibes cuz ouch. Samuel to the rescue, congrats, you did the bare minimum. ( i am not a fan of Samuel and all the call backs to Spn!john only make it worse everytime, especially the heroic last second save when he's been mia and shitty throughout otherwise).

God can't wait talking about the queen when she finally appears properly.

See y'all later for a double special of Dean alive (ish) and Trickster/Loki discussion.

#spn #spnwin #the winchesters #john winchester #mary campbell #lata dar #carlos cervantez #millie winchester #ada monroe #henry winchester #spnwin rewatch #spnwin 1x07

[eternal-fear]

Short text based on these headcanons. No proofreading.

Watching over

Characters: Grian. Mentioned: Scar, Joel (Smallishbeans), Jimmy/Timmy (Solidarity), Pearl.

What is a world without someone to watch it? With no-one to see its beauty. It might be as if this world didn't exist at all. And if there is someone to watch, what happens when they're gone? With no-one to watch or remember, it is as if this world never existed. And if there is someone, multiple beings, to watch over it, but their span of existence is limited? Then the past of this world stops existing, as memory slowly withers away.

So it is only natural that creatures capable of watching forever exist. Not even death of the universe could end their existence. While there is something to see, no matter where and when, there will be the Watcher.

It's only natural that after seeing it all, they get bored. They start making their own fun at the expense of others. They become cruel. It's only natural, after all.

Though, Grian knows that this is a lie. Other Watchers still remain as passive as they always were. They do nothing. They change nothing if it's not a way in which the world goes. He is the only one to get bored. To get tired of just watching. Or even simply participating. Even pranks are not enough now. He wants more. And he knows how to achieve his goal.

A game.

He's in the middle of one right now. Sitting on top of his fort, looking down at others. In a way he always did. Unlike them, he knows what's going on. The reason behind this game of death. He knows, but he's not going to tell them. There is no fun in it. If it wasn't so important to oversee everything, to make sure there was no error, he would have erased his own memories. To make it more interesting. But there was no way he's doing it. Too much of a risk. Unnecessary one at that.

After all, it's still pretty exciting. To see yesterday friends threaten each other. To see fearful gazes pointed at those who died. As if they were wild uncontrollable animals. Monsters. Not even remembering that they were allies ones. A lifetime ago. And for these so-called monsters to press hands to the chest, just to hear a weakly breathing heart. So full of hurt. Yet it doesn't make the bloodlust go away. As much as they remain themselves, they also become closer to their true monstrous nature. It's fun to watch their attempts to control it.

Some got it easier, some got it worse. Joel can barely hold his desire to tear and kill. Timmy doesn't have a bit of bloodthirst. Pearl is green, but already lost to the red madness from her heart being broken.

Scar… Scar was truly unlucky to get Grian as soulmate. Though, Grian himself preferred to act like he got the short stick out of this ordeal. But it was Scar. Scar who got a soulmate so distant. The one who wanted to be bound to anyone but him. Not because there was something wrong with the cat-loving builder. It just happened before. Even if Scar didn't remember. But once they were on the same side. Together against everyone. And it was fun! But repeating the same thing felt almost tiresome. Binding him to the same story.

Until it wasn't. Until things once again became interesting.

He only needed to watch what's going to happen next.

#grian #watcher grian #traficblr #double life smp #my text #mentioned: #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #joel #smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #pearlescentmoon #I might write more later #as I like the idea of murder birb not being the victim #(he's not actually evil) #(probably) #(he's not good though) #(you all heard how he laugh) #(he's the true monster here) #(but shhhh)

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Victor Van Dort is based on Victor from Corpse Bride. He is a 26 year old cursed human, pianist, and uses he/him pronouns. He has the power of seeing and interacting with souls who haven’t crossed over. Victor is portrayed by Timothee Chalamet and he is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Victor Van Dort lived a fairly humble life growing up. His parents were caring and present enough but usually left him to his own devices. They were involved enough to get him into piano at a young age and encourage his hobbies, but Victor’s first love quickly became music. He was a natural at piano and tried his hand at other instruments over the years, often composing his own music and on occasion lyrics. Victor had always been a bit of an awkward person so when his parents struck rich his life changed forever. He was told he was betrothed to marry Victoria Everglot, a young woman that came from a very well known family. Little did his family know that her parents were just after the fortune their daughter would inherit. After meeting Victoria, Victor had grown to care for the woman. He showed her piano and she showed him a side of herself she hadn’t even known existed. Then the night before they were to be wed she ran away. Victor doesn’t know how long passed before he woke up in Evermore. Something told him Victoria was there though and he knew he had to find her, despite still not being thrilled he had to be wed off to someone he barely knew. Then one fateful night in the forest he was practicing his vows and placed a ring on a branch and before his eyes could process what happened there was a beautiful woman standing in front of him wearing his ring. He learned that her name was Emily and she was the walking undead. Victor never knew of such things but Emily was once human before her husband murdered her. She was a strange girl but Victor couldn’t help but be drawn to her. The more he got to know her the more he felt close to her. She showed him a side of life he never thought he’d be apart of. Then he found Victoria and Emily felt betrayed when she learned the truth of his betrothal. She had Victor cursed with being able to see and interact with the dead who haven’t quite crossed over and were living as shadows between our world and theirs. Victor hated it. He began having nightmares, grew paranoid, and couldn’t stop seeing them wherever he went. He's gotten better at tolerating it but it sure does frighten him. He's afraid he's gone mad and his heart is torn. He's started playing piano for various shows around Evermore. He remembers everything from his life before and that drives him even more insane. He's not sure how long he can keep this up but he's trying and throwing himself into his work, taking it one day at a time.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Barkis Bittern: The man is cold and cruel and Victor doesn’t know this is the man that was wed to Emily in her past life. He knows he could marry Victoria if things don’t fall into place and he refuses to let that happen. The only issue is that Victor doesn’t know what his heart wants and fears the man. ❀ Aurora Reverie: The two bonded over hearing way too much in their head. They’ve found solace in each other and Victor is thankful to have her as a dear friend. ❀ Chloe Balaska: Victor walked into her shop to mend a suit once and she’s been the person he goes to ever since to get any tailoring done. The two are friendly with each other. Victor often wonders if they could go out sometimes to get his mind off of all this other business but he’s too scared to ask.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

#timothee chalamet #victor van dort #corpse bride #disney rp #bio rp #male bio #has powers #taken bio #taken male

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

I really wanted to do a bit of fluff-ish writing today but I definitely did not expect inspiration to take me down the road of Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller but here we are. I...have a lot of feelings (unsurprisingly)?

In hopes of stirring inspiration, I looked a dictionary.com’s word of the day which was “adze” (an axe-like tool...you learn something every day!) so it was pretty inevitable that I would end up in my Hannah and Sarah feels.

Also was 1666 was the first time they kissed? Not in my universe, buddy.

Her hands are certainly going to blister, the calluses already aching after just an hour of this. Sarah pauses, huffing out a breath, wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Clearly, she’s out of practice. Work like this didn’t used to wind her so quickly, but it’s been a while that she’s had to do anything that the settlement might deem better suited for a man. Still, with her father still sleeping off last night’s drinks and Henry better suited for sweet-talking trades down at the market, there’s no one else.

Sarah sets the adze down, wishing she didn’t have to pick it up again. Still, she can put off the inevitably for a little while longer at least. Unfortunately, these logs aren’t going to shape themselves and they can’t let the hole in the barn go overnight. Not if they want to have some chickens and hogs left in the morning. The sow is rooting around in the same mud that flecks Sarah’s ankles, sniffing around for missed scraps from this morning, completely unappreciative of the work Sarah is doing to save her life. “You should be doing this, you know,” Sarah tells the pig, words falling on deaf ears. “Keep the fox from turning you into bacon.”

“Has Sarah Fier gone completely mad?” The voice comes from behind her, lyrical in its teasing. “Are the villagers right about you after all?”

Sarah presses her teeth to her bottom lip, attempting to school her features before she turns around. She doubts she’s very successful. “Holy Hannah Miller,” she teases, the nickname no longer as cruel as it had been when they were both younger and the Millers were new to Union, the new pastor and his wife bringing with them a beautiful blonde child in her perfect white dress and with ribbons in her hair. The nickname had caught on like a schoolyard chant, something Sarah still isn’t proud of, though she’d been the one leading the pack, had been the one to smear mud across Hannah’s beautiful white frock, had felt like she’d earned every one of the lashes she’d gotten because of it, especially when she remembered how Hannah’s eyes had shown with tears.

Now Hannah has a smile on her face and it only grows when Sarah adds, “I didn’t think you would be one to listen to village gossip.”

Hannah looks slightly less perfect than she had on that first day when her family had arrived in Union. The years of work, of getting her hands dirty and struggling like everyone else, had hardened her soft edges, had turned her skirts the same dingy color that most fabric has these days, and though Hannah has traded her pigtails and bows for one utilitarian braid that falls between her shoulder blades, her hair still shines like the sun.

“One can’t help but listen,” Hannah defends, stepping closer, the basket she’s carrying swinging lazily from her fingers. “Especially when it’s about you.”

“Oh?” Sarah lifts an eyebrow. “Gossip about me is of particular interest?”

Hannah has a smile like no one else in Union, not even Lizzie, who smiles more than anyone Sarah knows. Except Lizzie always smiles like she has a secret, like she’s full of mischief, like she’s one step ahead of everyone else in Union. When Hannah smiles, it makes Sarah feel warmed from the inside out, like the logs that crackle in the hearth on the first cold day of the year.

“Maybe,” Hannah says and she’s close enough now that the only thing separating them is the fence that had been put in crooked because that how her father sees the world these days. “Why are you talking to pigs, Sarah Fier? No better company?”

“Are you making the offer?”

“That depends,” Hannah says, glancing over her shoulder to ascertain that there are no watchful eyes before adding, “What’s in it for me?”

It’s second nature, these furtive glances, these quick efforts to make sure that no one is paying them any more attention than usual. Hannah’s mother can always be counted on to be on the lookout for her only child, though they’re far enough from the Meeting Hall and the Miller homestead that Sarah can’t imagine Mrs. Miller would be here now. She’d have no reason to stoop so low as to pay a visit to the Fiers.

Still, Sarah casts a few glances of her own before smiling, satisfied that her father is still indisposed and everyone else is too preoccupied with the efforts of surviving to pay them much attention. “I could think of a few things that might tempt you,” she assures Hannah, feeling that heat prickle in her belly. She forces herself to smile, to step away, aloof. “But I doubt you’d be able to keep up with my chores today, Holy Hannah. So don’t trouble your pretty head.”

Hannah scrunches up her nose, putting her basket down and slipping through the fence. They aren’t children anymore but still Hannah makes it look effortless, like they’re still young enough to play hoops or tag throughout the village, Lizzie and Abigail and Isaac on their heels. Sarah almost wishes she had faltered, lost her step on the uneven ground still muddy from the week’s rains, just so she would have the excuse to reach out and steady her.

“You’re not so tough,” Hannah assures her. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite useful.”

That is something Sarah does not want to argue with, considering the places her thoughts of taken her. Still, she smirks. “Is that so?” She gives Hannah the once over, expression skeptical. “Your mother lets you partake in work that men should be doing? Her precious daughter?”

Hannah huffs out a breath and Sarah thinks she might have gone too far, might have teased too deeply, but Hannah just kicks a mud clod in her direction, splattering the already way-past-saving hem of her dress. Sarah’s eyes widen, and she can do nothing to hide the smile on her face. “What would your mother say!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Hannah grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, but there’s a smile on her face too. “I should make you eat this mud.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow. “Oh…this mud?” She reaches down, scooping up a fistful, holding it up. “Is this what you mean?”

Clearly Hannah understands her meaning because her eyes widen and she shakes her head, taking a step back. “Sarah…”

She shouldn’t. She knows she shouldn’t. There’s work that still needs to be done and she’s made almost no progress on repairing the hole in the barn. And she’s too old to be playing games…and most definitely too old to be playing games with the pastor’s daughter.

Still.

Sarah can’t resist. She throws the mud directly at Hannah, the sound it makes almost comical as it splatters across the front of her apron, a few flecks even settling on her cheeks, and Hannah’s expression is so surprised that Sarah can’t contain her laughter. She doubles over, hands leaving muddy prints on her dress as she presses them to her thighs, not even trying to contain her laughter.

“Sarah!” Hannah protests and Sarah tries to swallow down her laughter, closing her eyes and trying to pull in a deep breath. “How am I supposed to explain this!”

Swallowing, Sarah tries to compose herself. “Just tell her the market was particularly fraught today,” she says. “Lots of competition over eggs.”

Sarah straightens, exhaling around the last of her laughter, and promptly gets splattered with mud across her bodice. Her eyes widen and Hannah grins, looking far from innocent. “I see,” Sarah says, trying to wipe the mud from the front of her dress. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Hannah’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Sarah, wait-”

But Sarah lunges toward her, throwing another handful of mud, though it doesn’t do much damage as Hannah whirls around, hurrying out of range. If people gossip about her already, Sarah is certain they would have plenty to talk about if they happened to see her right now, running through her muddy yard with Hannah Miller, both of them laughing like girls as they attempt to throw mud at one another. As though they might somehow find a spot that isn’t already hopelessly dirty.

Hannah runs around the side of the barn and Sarah gives chase, though she quickly forgets her intentions when Hannah grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, into the shadows of the leeward side of the barn. Here, Sarah knows no one can see them unless they are coming through the woods, which no one is apt to be doing in the early winter months. She relaxes easily, the spot where Hannah’s hand is resting against her forearm feeling like scalding coals against her skin.

“You have mud on your face,” Hannah says seriously, reaching up with a finger to brush it aside. “No wonder people talk about you.”

“You aren’t exactly fresh yourself, Hannah Miller,” Sarah replies. “Your mother would surely-”

Hannah kisses her and Sarah forgets all about Mrs. Miller. Every kiss from Hannah feels like that very first one, thrilling and terrifying and like the thing that will keep her alive in this place. Hannah tastes like the winter sunshine, the chill in the air, the smoky fire she stirs to life each morning. She tastes like a life Sarah has only started dreaming of recently, like somewhere beyond this place.

Sarah puts her hands gently against Hannah’s cold cheeks, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss, her heart thundering like the church bell on a Sunday morning. Hannah pulls back, her breathing rough and uneven and warm against Sarah’s face, and Sarah is certain the dazed and dizzy look in her eyes will be the death of her.

Gently, Hannah takes one of her hands, rubbing her thumb across Sarah’s palm and Sarah swallows, suddenly flustered. “I…I know they’re rough,” she says, ashamed. “I…”

When she tries to pull away, Hannah doesn’t let her, holding her with a gentle insistence. “I like your hands,” she says softly, bringing Sarah’s palm to her lips and kissing softly and Sarah swallows, fingers suddenly trembling. “You’re strong. You’re a hard worker.”

Sarah can’t find her voice, especially not when Hannah takes her hand and presses it gently to the hollow of her throat, to the faint sliver of skin visible through the ties of her dress. It seems like she might never speak again, might never breathe either, not with the feeling of Hannah’s skin, so soft and smooth and warm, beneath the calluses on her palm. It seems impossible that only moments before she was holding the adze, bringing it down with enough force to hew and shape and wrest the logs into shape, only to be trusted now to handle something so gentle and delicate. Something so perfect.

Softly, Sarah slides her hand upward, across the curve of Hannah’s throat, to the turn of her jaw, the apples of her cheeks. Hannah smiles, closing her eyes, leaning into her touch and Sarah moves closer, pressing the lightest of kisses against her cheeks, her eyelids, and back to Hannah’s lips once more.

“We could go far from here,” Hannah whispers and these are the words Sarah thinks as she tries to fall asleep each night, her body buzzing despite the exhaustion of the day, playing over and over again thoughts of Hannah. Of her touch. Of these stolen, dangerous words and stolen, dangerous moments. “You already do the work here, everyone knows your father…” She trails off because it’s not important, not now, not with their bodies together and Sarah’s breath still struggling to return to her lungs. “You could build us a house of our own. And you could show me how to be useful, too. I could, if I knew-”

Sarah swallows. “Hannah, you’re already useful,” she says softly. “Regardless of what your mother tells you.”

Hannah smiles, so quick Sarah almost misses it. “You make me feel useful,” she admits softly. “With you…I am so many things.”

“I know,” Sarah says, kissing Hannah’s forehead. What she means is I know what you mean because that’s how she feels too.

There are so many things she longs to say to Hannah, things she hopes Hannah knows anyway. Like how she would run away from here in a heartbeat, that she would go anywhere Hannah wanted her to, that she would work herself to the bone every day in order to fall asleep next to Hannah each night.

The idea of it, of the two of them sharing a house, a mattress, the last bit of heat from a dying fire, is almost too much to stand, like Sarah doesn’t have room for all of it in her mind, in her body, in her heart. All these things she wants so badly.

“Hannah…” Sarah whispers, her lips brushing against Hannah’s once more, emboldened by the feel of Hannah’s fingers wrapped around the fabric of her dress right above her pounding heart. She doesn’t know how to begin to say any of the things she so badly wants to, so she settles, again, on the word that always slips through her mind right before she falls asleep each night: “Hannah.”

They kiss once more, right as a voice catches on the wind, drifting too fast and too close toward them. “Sarah! Where are you?”

Sarah steps back, feeling heat prickle her skin, regret churning in her stomach. “Henry,” she says softly, certain she can still taste Hannah on her tongue. “Damn him.”

But Hannah smiles, reaching out a hand to catch Sarah’s once more, for just a moment, before slipping away again.

“Sarah? Where-”

“Here,” Sarah snaps, coming around the side of the barn, not trusting herself to look back at Hannah following. “Be quiet, or you’ll wake father.”

Henry frowns, eyes darting toward the house. “He’s still asleep?”

“Sick,” Sarah says shortly and neither of them bother to point out the lie.

Henry’s face scrunches up in confusion as he looks at the two of them, tilting his head slightly. “What are you doing? And why are you covered in mud?”

Sarah picks up the adze, holding it up for Henry to see. “I was showing Hannah the work I was doing on the barn.”

“What work?” Henry glances doubtfully toward the broken wood, which looks exactly like it had this morning.

Sarah tosses the adze toward him, careful not to get it too close to her brother. “You do it then.”

“I should go,” Hannah says softly, her eyes jumping over Sarah’s face briefly before skipping toward the gate. “Mother is expecting me home with the flour.”

Sarah nods, swallowing. “Right. Good day, Hannah.”

She goes, taking the gate this time, collecting her basket and heading down the path without a backward glance. Sarah presses her lips together, trying to savor the feeling of Hannah’s lips against them, and steps forward to retrieve the adze. Henry still has a skeptical look on his face, but she knows he won’t say anything. There are times where Sarah thinks her brother is the only person in Union who knows the truth about her and Hannah, or who might possibly begin to guess anyway. Still, she knows her little brother. Since their mother’s passing and their father’s further descent into the distillery, they have become their own sort of family, a close knot of two and just as Sarah knows she would do anything for her brother, she knows Henry would do the same for her. Including, she suspects, keeping her secrets.

“Your dress is filthy,” Henry remarks, frowning at her as Sarah tries to bolster the strength, the motivation, to return to her task.

She cuts him with a glare. “Would you rather I wear slacks? Go fetch me a pair of father’s, then.”

Henry looks appropriately horrified by the idea, likely because he, too, has heard the Union gossip about Sarah Fier. Sarah rolls her eyes, turning back to the trunks that still need shortening and shaping. It’s brutal work, work that will leave her hands even rougher than they are now, work that will leave her muscles stiff and sore for days after this.

But, if Sarah lets herself imagine that she’s doing it for Hannah, for the both of them, that she’s in another place, another moment, another life, it goes a little easier.    

#fear street #fear street 1666 #hannah miller/sarah fier #do they have a ship name? #sarah/hannah #also #sameena #because that was who I was imagining while I wrote this and you are lying if you also don't imagine them when you think of Sarah and Hannah #Hannah Miller #Sarah Fier

[luxmaeastra]

Keir stared at his mother's body. His lips kept twitching but he could feel it slowly moving back into the mask his father had taught him - indifference.

Reshaye grinned at Nyktos.

"You heard me correctly. Beg Nyktos and I'll give you her soul."

Keir twitched and looked to Reshaye.

"I never - it was never meant to be her Reshaye. Why didn't you stick to the -"

"Because she would have crumpled and gone mad. Nyktos is stronger than that Keir."

Reshaye stepped closer to Nyktos their eyes shining in cruel glee.

"Beg on your knees to him Nyktos. And if Keir agrees you can have her back."

Keir held onto why he'd done this. Casimir and Enya could still be alive. Reshaye was right if he had an heir why would his father kill it? Especially if Iris couldn't give him another one?

Brushing the hair from her face, this was not how their story was meant to go. They were meant to have many more years together, she was meant to stay by his side as the muse of the Night. Blessed by the darkness, envied by the moon, shining as bright as the stars.

How could he do this to her? She who carried him, who gave him life. Those months she had paraded around the court delighted to share the news of her triple blessing, the birth of their three beautiful souls filled their family. Nyxia had never been more delighted than at that moment; her moon, her star and her sun.

His eyes darkened as they rose to meet with Reshaye, his jaw tightened as he cursed the moment he had dared bring them into their court. Bitterness twisted within him as he began to see the way things were woven, how they had influenced those brought into their family. If he did not harm his children, he would enjoy the mercy of seeing them all be torn a part in the pits in Hewn.

Nyktos carefully laid his goddess down upon the chaise within the room, his shoulders rolled before he turned and glared at Keir. "She will never forgive you for what you have done, you may have your prize to gloat, know I am man enough to beg for my mate. Your mother was always enough for me...Sadly the same cannot be said for you and yours, was she really worth the risk you put this family through saving her."

With that he turned, staring at the creature that held the strings. He lowered onto his knees, his hands tightened before he looked back towards his wife. Wife, mate, chosen, fated, life. He could call her so many things, if she was gone then there was no reason in this world for him not to destroy everything.

"Please...bring her back."

#Muse | Nyktos

[thedoorsofmyheart]

Time

“Time, mystical time. Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine.”

- Were there clues I didn’t see?

“That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want, minus one.”

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

“No measure of time with you will be long enough, but we’ll start with forever”

“I ask myself- "what would you do if you had more time?" The Lord, in his kindness, He gives me what you always wanted, He gives me more time. (She tells our stories.) - Oh, can I show you what I'm proudest of? (The orphanage) I help to raise hundreds of children, I get to see them growing up. In their eyes I see you, Alexander - I see you every time. - And when my time is up, Have I done enough? Will they tell your story? - Oh, I can't wait to see you again … It's only a matter of time. - Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?”

“Because time is cruel to all, and crueler still to artists. Because visions weakens, and voices wither, and talent fades. Because happiness is brief, and history is lasting, and in the end... everyone wants to be remembered”

“What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?”

“ Blink and the years fall away like leaves"- "Blink and you’re twenty-eight, and everyone else is now a mile down the road, and you’re still trying to find it, and the irony is hardly lost on you that in wanting to live, to learn, to find yourself, you’ve gotten lost.”

“How do you walk to the end of the world? - I wanted to hold on to every step.”

“And this is what she’s settled on: she can go without food (she will not wither). She can go without heat (the cold will not kill her). But a life without art, without wonder, without beautiful things—she would go mad. She has gone mad. What she needs are stories. Stories are a way to preserve one’s self. To be remembered. And to forget. Stories come in so many forms: in charcoal, and in song, in paintings, poems, films. And books. Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.”

“I have loved you all my life, - there is no end to our story.”

Ah, but you my love were such a beautiful story… can you blame me for wanting to tell it? For drowning in the idea of something more? It was rather intoxicating to believe that there could be something there all this time-that a love could last so long, even in these cruel lives. You were just such a beautiful dream, I think I lost myself in fear of waking to reality.

You will find that some things last longer than life; That memory softens hard times, and someday you’ll look back on it all rather rosy. That grief goes on with you in yours even when the ones we grieve do not, and ache will fill many wretched moments drowning out the noise of this world. But of all the things that will outlast me, and you, and the next to come. Only one will ever count. Love my dear, love simply goes on. It’s why you’ll survive the tide, and smile when you cry, and find something in desperate times worth the fight. It’s why some miraculous way you and I will have eternities.

Sometimes I wonder what infinity would look like; I ponder if it would easily turn to misery, or simply boredom? But then I see you, and you look at me. And I think I could spend forever happily.

“We could spend one hundred years together, and you know it would never be enough. It’s enough that we change each other every day.”

#a. daisy #art academia excelsior #original poetry #original quotes #original composition #favorites #feel it in my soul #art speaks more #too poetic not to post #stole some from a friend #random writings #love loss and life #ideaology #ponderings #philosophy #poetry #quotes #lyrics #Taylor swift #jane austen #eliza hamilton #the invisible life of addie larue #v e schwab #shadow and bone #leigh bardugo #malina #alina starkov #my own #inspired #stephanie meyer