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magictouchmassages · 5 months

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Knead to Relax: Unveiling the Magic of Massage Therapy

Introduction:

In the fast-paced, stress-ridden world we live in, the pursuit of relaxation has become more crucial than ever. Amidst various options available, one timeless method stands out for its ability to soothe both the body and mind - massage therapy. Beyond being a luxury, massage therapy is a holistic approach to wellness that has been practiced for centuries, transcending cultural and geographical boundaries.

Historical Roots:

The roots of massage therapy can be traced back thousands of years to ancient civilizations. These cultures recognized the therapeutic benefits of touch and developed various massage techniques to promote healing and relaxation. Over time, these practices evolved and merged, forming the diverse array of massage styles we have today.

Modern Science Meets Ancient Wisdom:

In recent years, scientific research has caught up with the ancient wisdom of massage therapy, providing empirical evidence for its numerous benefits. Massage has been shown to reduce stress hormones, lower blood pressure, and boost the immune system. Additionally, it enhances the release of endorphins, the body's natural feel-good chemicals, promoting an overall sense of well-being.

Stress Relief and Mental Health:

One of the primary reasons people turn to massage therapy is to alleviate stress. The power of human touch, combined with expert techniques, can work wonders in reducing tension and promoting relaxation. In our hyper-connected world, where stress has become a constant companion, regular massage sessions offer a reprieve, allowing individuals to disconnect and recharge both physically and mentally.

Muscle Relaxation and Improved Circulation:

Massage therapy targets muscle tension and stiffness, promoting relaxation and flexibility. The manipulation of soft tissues increases blood flow, delivering oxygen and nutrients to cells while aiding in the removal of waste products. This enhanced circulation contributes to improved muscle function, reduced inflammation, and quicker recovery from physical exertion or injury.

Pain Management and Rehabilitation:

Beyond relaxation, massage therapy plays a crucial role in pain management and rehabilitation. Whether it's chronic pain, sports injuries, or post-surgical recovery, skilled massage therapists can tailor their techniques to address specific issues. The release of muscle tension and the stimulation of the body's natural healing processes make massage an integral component of holistic pain management strategies.

Mind-Body Connection:

Massage therapy goes beyond physical benefits; it nurtures the mind-body connection. The therapeutic touch and rhythmic movements can induce a profound sense of relaxation, helping individuals become more aware of their bodies. This heightened awareness fosters mindfulness, reducing anxiety and promoting a sense of inner peace.

Customized Approaches:

Massage therapy isn't a one-size-fits-all solution. Various styles, such as Swedish, deep tissue, and aromatherapy massage, offer different approaches to suit individual preferences and needs. Skilled therapists can customize sessions based on a client's specific goals, whether they seek relaxation, pain relief, or a combination of both.

Conclusion:

In the hustle and bustle of modern life, the ancient practice of massage therapy emerges as a beacon of serenity and healing. Its ability to address both physical and mental well-being makes it a valuable tool in the pursuit of a balanced and healthy lifestyle. As we continue to navigate the complexities of the 21st century, taking the time to knead away the stress and tension through massage therapy may be the key to unlocking the magic of relaxation and rejuvenation.

#Massages

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gregersengregersen17 · 2 years

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Play Time

Pairing | Elizabeth Olsen x reader

Summary | ‘Play time’, as it is described, is not for your own wandering hands. It is for you to succumb and be under your partner’s control, however, when she is not present, you take matters into your own hands, - literally.

Warnings | smut, spanking, masturbation, swearing, slight degradation, oral sex (fem receiving ofc), mummy kink

Requested ☑️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There was a tension driving your actions, albeit though they were forbidden. It was obvious that Lizzie would be disappointed into your will to give into your own greed, however she wasn’t here, and you had enough time to bust an orgasm out. She wouldn’t have to know.

That was a mistake on your part, and you’d have known that if you had thought with your brain rather than your hungry cunt. Lizzie always reminded you that that was your insatiable flaw, and that was why she was the dominant counterpart rather than you.

If she were left in your own devices, then your own orgasm would remain to be your own priority, and she wouldn’t get much love. And that was certainly something that she could not have.

And so, you were laid in the nude upon your shared bed, your head reeling back at the stimulating sensations that your nimble fingers blessed upon your clit. It admittedly felt good; there was no aspect of teasing, or the sound of taunting above.

It was just... perfect. The only downside was, that the hands belonged to you, and were not those of Lizzie. But she would never touch you so gently, nor dream or giving you what you wanted straight away. There was a thrill that came with doing something that she would be strongly opposed to.

She craved the influence of the power that she had over your body, and how she had the ability to make it bend and break to her every whim. It wasn’t unusual for her to use the description of a ‘brat’ in regards to you, and it clearly was a suitable resolution in thinking of you, all things considered.

You were, knowingly, going against her strict demands, but worst of all, it was rule number one that you had broken. Do not touch yourself. That heightened a spark throughout your entirety, knowing that you were doing something bad, and deserving of being called a brat, or something worse.

But nevertheless, in all your disobedience, you continued revealing yourself in the addiction of control, pumping your slim fingers in and out of your entrance, with the assistant of your thumb providing a string of perfectly adjusted chords to reverberate through your body.

Too preoccupied basking in the glory of the climax that you were striving towards, you had not feigned to notice the silhouette leaning disappointedly against the ajar door frame, her arms crossed against her chest.

“Yes.” Heavy breaths lay abandon to your chest, the movements of your fingers faltering in their rhythm as they twitched under the flow of the pumping blood running through your ecstatic veins. With one last thrust of your paired fingers, a mewl fled from your mouth, confirming the end of your orgasm. “Holy fuck.”

“Indeed.” Lizzie squinted, stepping forward, her sudden appearance promoting wide eyes upon your face, and causing you to whip your hands away from yourself, digging their tips into the covered mattress. “And it appears that you’ve been a very bad girl, breaking mummy’s rules whilst she was away. How... bratty!”

At her specific, and degrading terminology, a whimper surpassed the insides of your mouth, as your body cradled into itself, embarrassed by the exposure that you were broadcasting to her, albeit by accident. It was clear, that you had been caught in the cross hairs of being red handed, and so, the same colour reflected in a hue upon your body, pressing through your skin in regard to the shy heat.

“Liz-“ she fixed you with a stern look, the borderline dominance flickering through her emerald hues. “Mummy.” Biting your lip, you slowly, filled with cautiousness, crawled upon the bed, and towards the woman that often instructed you in what to do. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

A tut sampled from her pink mouth, enforcing you to bow your head in slight shame. It was inevitable that she was to find out about your individually orchestrated solution to get off, but it made it that much worse, for it was not a second hand discovery.

Instead, she had watched with grave eyes how you fell apart under the collapse of your own touch. Each fluid motion that you had entrusted yourself with delivering was viewed through her stealthy and hawk like eyes. And that meant, there was no solution in trying to deny her deaf accusations, for she had served witness to your lonesome relief.

“No, it won’t.” She agreed, lightly shoving you out of her way, causing you to jolt back by the act, so that she could perch herself into a sitting position on the end of the mattress that was weighted down with many intimate occasions. “You know what to do.”

Lacking any reluctance, you followed her contextual demand, laying in your middle across her apparently inviting lap, your front composed in a floppy manner on one side, and your body half mirroring it on the other.

She trailed her cursive hands down your spine, evoking the appearance of goose bumps to poke out of your barren skin. It was far too well known what awaited you in the concept of her actions, and it had you inwardly wincing.

“See, that’s you being good. Good girls do what they’re told.” It was her successful attempt of taunting you; her outwardly confirming that you were no such thing. “How many?” From experience, you knew that it was a rhetorical consideration, Lizzie was speaking more to herself by it than she was you.

“Please don’t...” the corner of your eyes wept lightly at the thought of what was to come. The thought provoked a sincere yet arousing fear within your chamber of pleasure and fertility. No matter though how much your tried to pardon yourself for your languid mistake, it would never be enough - you knew that, from a collision of experience and logic.

Your attempts though served as vigil fuel to her scarlet fire, and whether she noticed or not, it was uncertain. But despite her possible obliviousness to it, she struck your ass with a relatively hard hand, pulling a mused squeak to tumble helplessly from your heaving mouth, that was attempting to keep the moan within its confines.

“Thank you mummy.” It rolled from your tongue deliriously, like a rehearsed line. Her hand smoothed over the place of which she had spanked, soothing the slight sting, before collaborating her hand unto your skin once more, n the same abused patch of skin. “Fuck!

In a timeless instant, she swatted you once more, causing a salty drop to cascade from your urgent eye. “Remember, only brats use language like that towards their mummies.” It was something that you had a good memory of, but the sworn word had made an appearance to your own dismay.

It had been a thoughtless spew of inconvenience, one that had dug yourself into a spiralling of trouble, and resulted in thus more pain permitted onto the section of your reddened and hand printed behind. “I think we may have to continue this, unless, you have any other ideas, baby?”

Your tongue darted out to swipe across your bottom lip, before you even considered answering. Y doing so, you could taste the salt that had dripped down from the bridge o your nose, and descending down you body in an orderly fashion to reach your slick centre.

It was a frustrating concept though, regarding your eager to please pussy. There was no attention drawn to anything on that end of you; instead, all LIzzie wanted was to hear you speak, and pathetically jumble around with words to spill the perfect answer. All you had to do, was think of how a good girl would respond.

“I’ll do anything.” Your voice was hoarse - desperate. And the vocal feature intrigued Lizzie, and so she rolled you onto the bed beside her, gently grasping the side of your face whilst playing with disarrayed hairs that curled across your cheek.

“Anything?” She repaeated for confirmation; safe to say, she was intrigued. After all, she wanted to experience the efforts that you would go to in order to make it up to her. And so, with tidal integrity, she pierced her green orbs into your own, awaiting another reply out of you.

“Yes.” A sleek smile gave way on your face, showing her that you were more than leased to do anything that she told you too. At the end of the day, it was the dynamic that you had invested yourself in, and also, the saying was true, in a diverse matter; ‘mummy knows best.’

“Okay then.” A broad structure defined her cheeks, paying tribute to her happy, and impressed demeanour. “Since it’s only fair, I want you to make me cum. It’s clear that you’re so good at it, considering that you got yourself to orgasm by nothing but your own fingers.”

She was intentionally getting under your skin about your misbehaviour, ripping of the band aid that you were certain that the openness and lack of squirming away that the spanking that she delivered entailed. But instead, it was another thing that you had been wrong about that to, and so you shuffled patiently upon your knees, watching as she intimately read you expression.

Lizzie pulled you closer by her adoring grasp on your cheek, slotting your mouth against the hilltop of hers. The pair of you moved in a rhythm, sawing your tongues around each other like flexible switch blades. Whenever she pulled away for a breather, you chased her with the promise of continuation, and vice versa.

But finally, the main event was approaching, such a ploy was revealed by Lizzie shrugging out of the dress that she had worn specifically for the interview downtown. The peeling of that layer left her in nothing more than her panties, revealing that she had forgone the support of a bra, which was formidable, since the outfit of her stylist’s choice had enabled enough, yet not too much revelation of a cleavage.

No resilience was met by either parties as she removed her flushed lips away, and laid dominantly back on the expensive mattress. And without waiting for you to run like a transitioning river beside her, she removed her panties herself, flinging them lazily away by her ankle. “Last time you ripped them.” Was her excuse, though, not that she had to ever explain herself to you of all.

It was a vivid memory, one that you fondly held onto. At the time, it had merely been an accident, but no longer did you regret what you did back then. In fact, reflecting on in it was quite hot in fact, and it had indeed been flashing images from that time that you had used to get yourself off earlier.

But your prior release, nor those that were promised in the future were your concern; not at the moment anyways. Your own priority was the woman spreading her legs so confidently in front of you, and the r rated sight had saliva collecting in the globe of your mouth.

“So pretty mummy.” The compliment had her cunt clench around nothing, you could see as the slit puffed its expanse out, attempting to seduce you inside. And it’s efforts were not in vain, for you crept forwards on your forearms, your high and beheld beloved capturing your every move within her clouded gaze.

“It would be far prettier if you were to give it a kiss. I think it’d like that, very much.” An innocent smirk wandered onto her compelling face, and you were eager to oblige her insinuating command. Your fingertips rubbed the insides of her thighs, your thumbs reaching to spread her glorious pink folds.

Leaning forwards, you in took a sensual breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent that rolled off from Lizzie’s cunt in controlling waves. It reeled you closer, and closer, until your lips were pressed against her bud in a sweet peck. “Your so wet.” Was your speculation, and you couldn’t help but gravitate your fingers onto her flower, and roll them in circles upon her individual expanse.

“Then clean it up baby. You know what to do.” Her hand reached down, bunching a fist full of hair within her grip, lowering your head down once again, causing you to continue focusing on her clit, whilst your fingers played lovingly around in her slick.

With the use of your tongue, you began from the bottom of her cunt, to her sensitive clit, working in attentive upwards strokes, collecting her sweet nectar onto your spoon appendage, and leaving none to waste. Then, you prodded at her entrance with the tip of it, sinking it in the private cavern, and reaching as far as your body part would allow you to.

Lizzie had her mouth pouted, as she breathed and mewled steadily. It served as encouragement, making you rock your tongue in and out of her successfully, your thumb finding a home on her clit, and rubbing with a passive goal. “Yes.” She moaned, her noise amplifying as she ground sensually down onto your face, rubbing her excess juices over it. “I’m close.”

That’s made you continue your administrations, the only thing of them that changed being your pace, which increased to a rapid tendency and urgency to get her to finish. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little brat face.” Her other hand also found homage in your hair, as she used it as leverage to rut her mound more directly upon your features.

A light scream evoked from her chest, as you felt her spill around your tongue, the liquid seeping out from her entrance, and softly drowning her thighs. After collecting as much as possible, and drinking it all up, you removed your face, feeling how your chin and such felt quite damp.

“I hope that teaches you to not touch yourself without permission.” Panted Lizzie, making no effort to get up from the bed, tucking herself under a blanket. She lifted up one of the sides, extending her arm upwards, and inviting you into her arms. And you were happy to settle down with her and get some rest after the thrilling and erotic night.

Being a brat wasn’t so bad. And at the end of it all, you always got to curl up with your girlfriend and find comfort in her gentle embrace, it was one of your favourite parts about having an intimate night.

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dodo-begone · 3 years

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New Normal

Pairing: Yandere!Tubbo x Reader (with some Ranboo)

Request: we need more yandere tubbo i absolutely love the way you wrote him shdhhfjd........ maybe a short fic or some headcanons elaborating on "waking up in the mansion one day"? maybe the reader gets more afraid than going along with it .. I'd love to see ranboos aspect regarding tubbos behavior as well 👀

Word count: 2.3 k

Warning: yandere, kidnapping, drugging

A/n: This is all platonic. Nothing romantic. Also this was meant to be short not this long oh lord.

The night had been unforgiving to you as of late. Every night you felt like you were being watched over. It was so weird. It didn’t matter if the windows were open or not. Or even if they had blinds over them. Your paranoia was being fed by every noise emanating from the darkness. Now you weren’t afraid of the dark, never had been. But now, oh god the dark was terrifying. The unknown of the dark scared you. Anything could be hiding in there. And with this new “admirer” of yours, your newfound fear of the shadows was being fed a damn feast. The last straw for you was when you came home one night and saw your window broken and front door open. It spooked you too much; what if they were still inside? You couldn’t risk that.

That’s how you found yourself in Tubbo’s house, on his couch, hunched over and shaking over a cup of tea. You don’t remember why you came here, in all honesty. There were so many other people you could have chosen that were more than capable of protecting you. There was Sam, Bad, Sapnap, even Technoblade. Yet you still went to Tubbo. He was a comforting presence for you. And you just really wanted some comfort for this new fear of yours. Is this what I child felt when they were scared of the dark and needed a flashlight? God now you feel so bad for making fun of little kids for needing those.

“Hey are you okay,” a hand just fucking attacks your shoulder and you wip around. Oh god what if the guy got you now- wait it’s just Tubbo. Wow you overreacted there. Your swift actions shocked Tubbo, making him take a few steps away from you. He held his hands up in the air; an attempt to show he meant no harm to you. But you were just relieved at the sight of Tubbo.

“I don’t know,” a lump was forming in your throat. The tea isn't helping at all. You were so upset that you couldn’t even tell what flavor it was. Nor did you ask Tubbo, but that didn’t matter. Only distractions mattered now; a way to get your mind off of the paranoid thoughts. “I think I am”. Your grip on the cup tightened. Some of that was you trying to ground yourself, but another part of it was just tension. It was becoming harder to breathe and you had no idea why. There wasn’t a reason. Start breathing normally again- uh what was that breathing exercise?

Tubbo came around the couch and sat by your side. “Hey, can you look at me really quick?” He grabbed your hands and you looked at him. Somehow looking into his eyes made it harder to breathe. “Okay now repeat after me- wait not repeat. Uh, do what I do. Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he started. “Okay take a deep breath with me. In through the mouth for five and out the nose for four. In for five, out for four.” A small pattern formed from the mantra. Something about the exercise was extremely comforting, but you were never sure on what it was. Well you knew it had to do with slowing your breathing and helping you focus, but you felt like there was something else to it. There had to be something else to it. Why else would it be able to calm you so well right now?

It took a while, but you finally calmed down. Well, “calmed down” being a relative term. You were tired and numb inside. Your attention was completely focused on the flames in the hearth. They were mesmerizing. Happily dancing away, illuminating the room.

You hadn’t realized what was happening. All you remember is looking at Tubbo and then everything just became blurry. The sting of tears stung your eyes. Oh, you were about to cry again. That’s so annoying, stupid. You had just calmed down and yet you’re still crying. Craving human contact must be a symptom of sadness or some shit because you looked at Tubbo for comfort. And he gave you exactly that; opening his arms to give you a hug. Without a second thought, you essentially flew into his arms. He accepted you immediately and held you close. The tears that had once been contained by a damn once again ran free. Slowly you grew tired. Oh how you despised the act of crying and how it drained you so. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

__________________________________ The sunbeams were attacking you and it hurt so much. So bright, demanding. You didn’t want to get up. Sleepiness still held you captive, flowed through your body like the very blood you had. Yet the light was relentless, attacking your closed eyes through it’s armor. A valiant effort was made to stay asleep and keep the sunlight out of your eyes. But it was futile. Rolling over did nothing but illicit noise and made you mildly uncomfortable. When you finally gave in, you just stared blankly at the wall.

For a wall, it was pretty. Kinda. It was plain but a stylish kind of plain. A timeless look. It took ages to finally muster the energy to even sit up, but you still did. The view changed yet it didn’t at the same time. It was pretty empty in the room. Three doorways, two next to each other on your right and one on your left, a bed, some curtains, a small nightstand, and a bookshelf. Other than that, there was a ton of open space.

Once you regained some more consciousness, you slipped out of bed. There was a jingle, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You definitely heard it, you just thought something fell on the floor. Whatever it was could wait. The unexplored room was just waiting for exploration, though you could have easily explored it from your bed because of how empty it was. When you got to one of the doors, you slowly opened it to reveal a closet. It was absolutely filled with clothes you liked. Or some you were missing. Didn’t you own that shirt at home? And that one too? Huh, what a coincidence. Pretty cool.

Not even two steps away from the closet was another door, which you also slowly opened. Didn’t want to hit anyone. Through that door was a bathroom. It was pretty big and pretty. Very shiny and clean. There were some care products in there, some shampoo and conditioner. But you stopped yourself from looking too much. You didn’t want to snoop. It was rather rude to do.

Grogley you turn toward the last mystery door. It was all the way on the other side of the room. Man you weren’t awake enough for this. Yawning, you start your way to the other doorway. That must be the way back to the rest of the mansion. Sadly you didn’t get far. Not even halfway there before you were stopped. More accurately tripped. Something made your foot slip from underneath, making you fall onto your stomach. Everything ached, but your ankle felt weird. It was a different pain. When you tried to pull it closer to examine it, something stopped it and the sound of metal hitting itself rang across the room. You nearly give yourself whiplash from how quickly you turn your head.

A metal cuff clung onto your ankle which in turn was connected to a tense chain. At the other end of the chain was one of the bedposts. Specifically the one closest to the closet and bathroom. That’s odd. Okay now what’s going on here? Oh did Tubbo do this to make you feel more secure? Well it was and wasn’t working all at the same time. Because who puts an ankle chain on somebody?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. From your spot on the floor, you whipped your head back around to the last mystery door. You stayed quiet, wondering if you were just imagining noises. But another knock soon came. It was undeniable, very pronounced and purposeful. Whoever was out there- what could they be here for. Panic started to overtake you again, but the sound of Tubbo’s voice coming from the other side of the door caught your attention.

“Can I come in,” Tubbo announces his presence again with another round of knocks. With the amount of noise you made, you were pretty sure he knew you were awake. But you still replied to him.

“Yeah you can.”

Not even a second after you reply, the door slowly opens and Tubbo peaks his head in. He seemed to have woken up with some bedhead, which made him look boyish. A little careless for physical appearances, which can be an endearing feature. Tubbo gave the room a sweeping look, checking for something. What exactly, you couldn’t tell. But apparently he was satisfied because he opened the doorway entirely. You swiftly stood up, getting as close to the door as you could.

On the other side of the door was Tubbo in some pajamas. He looked a little sleepy, but his happiness shone through it. You smiled at the sight of him, happy that someone came to get you out.

“Good morning, Tubbo!” You gave a toothy grin and spread your arms to emphasize your joy. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning!.” He gave you a toothy smile in return, but it looked odd. Like it was forced, nervous even. But you must’ve just been looking too far into it. “I slept pretty good. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept like a fucking rock,” you reply with a little laughter. “Honestly? Best sleep of the month, man. Really needed it. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place last night.”

“Not a problem at all,” his smile soon became more natural, much bigger. “I really enjoyed having you over”. It seemed like he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The nervous look reappeared on his face, and you gave the most reassuring look you could. “So about you moving in-”

“Oh yeah that,” your smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I can’t just do that Tubbo. I just can’t.” Tubbo seemed saddened by your response. “It’s not like I don’t want to live with you,” you explained. “I’d love to live with you and Ranboo, but I have other responsibilities. Things that have to be done very far from the mansion. Seriously, I’d love to stay.”

“Then stay.” It was a simple statement on his part. You thought it was a little banter.

“I’d stay if I could Tubbo. But I gotta go.”

“You can’t go.”

“Yes I can, Tubbo. Now can you please unchain me, I gotta go.” You lift your ankle and shake it along with the chain for emphasis.

But Tubbo doesn’t even give it a look before answering. “You can’t leave.”

His actions are words are a bit worrying now, huh. This is just a silly prank. Any second now he’ll say it’s a joke and release you. Yeah, any moment now.

That moment never comes though.

“Come on now,” Tubbo starts to lead you back to the bed. “Get back in bed. You still look tired.”

“I’m not tired Tubbo,” your voice hardens to emphasise the fact that you really don’t need this shit right now. “Look I’m completely fine and I have to go. This joke isn’t funny anymore. Just unlock the fucking cuff and I’ll be on my way.”

You two stop at the bed and he gently ushers you in. Climbing on the bed to give you a hug. Struggling against him does no good. If anything, it just makes things worse. He just tightens his grip like a damn python. Wtf why is this kid so strong and clingy? This definitely isn’t a good combo.

“Look you aren’t fine. See?” He emphasizes his point by hugging you tighter. Which you don’t like and groan in protest. “You need to rest. It’s fine. You’re home.”

Internally you start to panic. Yo, hold up, what the hell is he talking about? You know damn well you ain’t home or agreed to stay here. So what does he think he’s doing?

There’s a cough from the doorway, and both you and Tubbo’s attention is diverted to the newcomer. At the threshold of the room is Ranboo. A platter loaded with food held between his hands. He looks awkward standing there. And you don’t blame him because you felt awkward just being in the hug. You couldn’t even imagine the embarrassment you’d get from walking in on this shit. When your eyes meet, he gives you a small, unsure smile.

Movement behind Ranboo catches your attention. You look behind Ranboo’s legs to see Micheal clinging onto Ranboo’s pants. He looked so happy. Well, happy being debatable and interpretive. He looked normal but he was making his little happy noises. Micheal bounded over to you, stretching his arms out while making the most adorable little oink noises. You look between Tubbo and Ranboo for any sign. Literally anything for them. But Tubbo just encourages you. So you pick up Micheal and hold him close to your chest.

Tubbo gives a cheer of joy while Ranboo joins in, though a little less enthusiastic. Still the fact he sounded genuinely happy about this situation was worrying. Especially since he knew what was going on. Knew how wrong it all was. Micheal had no idea. Happily oinking way in your lap and messing with your hands. Suddenly two sets of arms entangle themselves around you; pulling themselves toward you for a hug.

Looking down at Micheal, you now question if the backstory you were told about him was true. Was he actually found wandering around? Or was he kidnapped, just like you?

#c: tubbo #c: ranboo #tw: yandere #yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp!tubbo #dsmp!ranboo #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #yandere tubbo #yandere ranboo #yandere tubbo x reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugging #dsmp!ranboo x reader #dsmp!tubbo x reader

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stylistiquements · 3 years

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Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

#sapnap smau #smau #mcyt smau #sapnap x you #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #sapnap series #129 days #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #sapnap fluff

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daydreaming-away-reality · 3 years

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Timeless

Zhongli x Reader | ☁️ | 1.2k | Soulmate AU

There once was a time before the Archon War that was peaceful. Well, at least some semblance of peace within Liyue.

With the world prone to changes within a span of years, you found that being an immortal being really let you see how nothing lasts forever. In your life, you had seen the rise and fall of mountains, civilizations and gods alike.

Not interested in being worshipped or maintaining territory, you had lived most of your life quietly through Liyue. As much as you tried to avoid conflict, you had seen your share of battles to ensure your survival.

Although it was difficult to find companions without being dragged into a larger issue, you had met someone who had ambitions that you admired.

To find some order within the chaotic world and protect those who followed him.

He went by many names, but to you, he was Zhongli.

Recognized as Morax and the Lord of Geo, he was a man who held great power no matter the name or form he took on. But this was something you learned later on when you had gotten to know him better.

You had met Zhongli one night as you were gazing at some wild silk flowers that were lit up by the glow of the moonlight. Having heard the footsteps of someone nearby, you had turned to meet a pair of bright amber eyes watching you.

"I believe that most flowers bloom most beautifully during the day,” he had commented.

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “But there’s a certain beauty in seeing flowers during the night too.”

As the two of you encountered each other more, the closer your relationship became. Learning that he was a god came to you with no surprise. Zhongli had an aura of power around him that came naturally. However, he had been rather surprised to learn that you were an immortal being, not just a regular human as he had initially expected.

In hopes of getting to know each other better, Zhongli had asked you to take a walk with him. Aware of his intentions, you had agreed.

You were curious about him as well.

Simply spending some time catching up with each other initially, the light patter of raindrop interrupted the flow of your conversation during the walk.

“We should look for a place to take shelter,” Zhongli offered, his eyes skimming the surroundings. Catching sight of a small cave, he nodded in that direction. “Shall we go there to wait out the rain?”

You nodded, following his lead.

Staying dry within the cave, the two of you sat next to each other, watching Liyue through the mist of rain.

Your (E/C) eyes managed to catch sight of a particular purple flower not to far from where you were.

“Violetgrass.” you pointed out to Zhongli. “It grows best in moist places and is best picked after it rains.”

The man beside you stared at the flower, seemingly deep in his thoughts.

“You seem to know a great deal of knowledge around flowers,” he commented.

You gave him a small shrug. “I like learning little facts about everything - I find that living as an immortal gives you a lot of opportunities to learn and reflect.”

Zhongli let out a hum of agreement.

“(Y/N), you have mentioned being in conflict before, am I correct?”

Flicking your gaze back to him, you nodded. “Ah, yes. I do what I need to. It feels like we can’t survive without some conflict within our lives.”

“It certainly feels that way,” Zhongli remarked.

Your thoughts drifted to the fallen gods and lost moments from the distant past. The world was so big, you had a feeling that these were shared memories others could relate to as well.

“Do you think one day, when I am defeated, that my soul might conjure up the demons of this world?” you quietly wondered out loud.

You weren’t sure if Zhongli had heard you over the sound of the rain, but his glove hand rested on top of your own hand.

“I doubt your soul would ever experience corruption to that extent for it to incite harm upon others.” Zhongli spoke carefully, picking out his words attentively. “My own soul, however...”

“Would also be fine,” you interjected. This caught Zhongli’s attention. “You are a rational being who does things with intention, I would like to believe that if anything were to happen to you, your soul would not conjure any demons either.”

Viewing you from your side profile, Zhongli was able to notice how you were thoughtful and considerate being as well. For someone who was immortal that didn’t seek out power like many of the other gods around them, you were very unique in his eyes.

As the rain slowed down to a stop, and the light from the sunset broke through the clouds, the lighting gave you a soft aura. Zhongli felt the urge to protect it, protect you.

He stood up, offering a hand to you. “Shall we get going?”

“Sure.”

You took his hand, pulling yourself up. Zhongli didn’t let go over your hand until much later that day.

You and Zhongli had spent the next few hundred years together as companions. His presence would gather the attention of others, while yours was more quiet and hidden.

When rumors of the seven divine seats of Celestia being opened up for the taking, there was an unspoken awareness that conflict would be soon approaching once more.

For someone who didn’t engage in conflict unless necessary, you found it rather interesting that you stayed near the God of War’s side.

One night when you were out in a field of glaze lilies, the familiar footsteps of Zhongli caught your attention.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he greeted you. Standing beside you, he noticed the distant gaze that your (E/C) eyes held. “What’s on your mind?”

“Will the glaze lilies still bloom this beautifully if the memories of Liyue will be tainted by war?” you asked. Your tone held the same worry as the people who followed Zhongli. “What might become of us once the conflict reaches us?”

Listening to your thoughts, Zhongli took a moment to consider this all.

“Let us create a contract,” he said decisively.

You looked at him in surprise. “A contract?”

“I care for you, deeply,” Zhongli elaborated. He reached out, gently caressing your cheek. “Let us agree upon binding our souls together, so that if anything happens, we will find each other again.”

“Are... are you sure?” you asked, cheeks heating up. You had heard the humans use a phrase to describe this before... “Like become soulmates?”

The man before you nodded.

“Do you not feel the same way?”

You shook your head lightly. “I do feel the same way about you.”

“Good,” Zhongli softly murmured. He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “May our words bind us to this agreement. And please know, I will do everything within my power to keep you safe during this war.”

#genshin impact #zhongli imagine #zhongli imagines #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #reader insert #imagine #imagines #timeless #request #soulmate au

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misumeaw-blog · 3 years

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13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None

Word count : 1,699 words

note : I can die peacefully now, I believe the entire family can hear me screaming. Day 13 will be based on Albedo's mail. I suck at kissing btw, sooo I tried

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

Day 12 Moment of Birth Part 1: Midnight

Light from houses in the city of freedom starting to turn into darkness; but not all, liveliest place in the slumbering city in the lake still filled with drunkards and music from the bard. Angel share, is night-active with drinks and socializing drinkers.

You have a meeting with your friends to discuss what to give Albedo for his birthday, Although..

“You guys seriously haven’t kissed yet? It’s been nearly a year”

things seemed going in the completely wrong direction “Shhh quiet please, Captain Kaeya. It’s not a big deal, I understand he wanted to take things slow” Still, there are times where you yearn for more than hugs and pecks on your face.

“Our Chief Alchemist has really taken your advice Too well, Kaeya” Lady in purple attire and a large witch hat, decorated with roses spoke up “That little genius never opened up for this sort of relationship” eyepatch man took another gulp to his mouth “I’m still surprised you managed to make him fall for you”

“Kaeya, rude” lightly zapped the one-eyed captain before turning to you “If he doesn’t make the first step, you’d need to do it” she placed her finger on your lips “Alright, alright, stop everyone” you harsh your friends before things getting out of hand “I just wanted a piece of advice on what to give Albedo for his birthday, so how did this turned to-“ Yup, that sparked your idea.

Both Knights of Favonius glanced at each other then back to you “Do you still need our help?”

The following morning you knocked on the Acting Grand Master’s room “Come in” an assertive voice flew out from the wooden door “Good morning, Master Jean. Do you know where Klee is?” “Good morning, I think she’s by the lake near Wolvendom. Oh and if you’re going to meet her, please make sure she doesn’t explode all the fish” she spoke without looking at you, eyes on massive amounts of paperwork

“One other thing, Acting Grand Master. I would be greatly appreciated if you kindly grant Albedo’s leave on his birthday” you figured your boyfriend might need a day off, in case he wanted to spend time with you and Klee “Oh right, his birthday is approaching” she glanced at the calendar “Yes of course, please do send him my regards if I couldn’t inform him myself” Closing the door after thanking her, ‘alright, off to Wolvendom’ you recalled your plan

Explosions can be heard from afar, the little girl should be nearby. Fish flying out in the sky, big splash easily visible. A small girl in red clothing having fun tossing bombs into stilled water. You called for her and she turned around “Y/N! Klee missed you” red coat sprinting to you, hugging you as soon as you’re in her reach By now she sees you as another sibling, despite you’re actually dating her brother. “Having fun today mh Klee?” glancing at the amount of dead fish on the ground “Yup! The kind uncle at the fishing asso..asso..” “Fishing association?” “Yes! the fishing association told Klee there’s a bunch of new fish all over Mondstadt, Klee will blast them all” You know fishing normally is better for the fish, but you let it slide for her happiness “Hey Klee, I have to borrow your brother the day before his birthday; well, tomorrow, is that alright?” You crouch down to the little girl’s height “Aw, but Klee wanted to be with big brother Albedo..” “I know Klee, but by that time you would be asleep. Would you like to help me prepare snacks for Albedo then?” “Yayy, Klee wanna help!” “Alright, keep it between us m’kay?” Holding out a pinky finger for the young one to hook with hers

‘And to keep Albedo busy..’ You head to the fountain plaza to one of your boyfriend’s assistants, Timaeus. “Morning Timaeus, do you know where Sucrose is?” A bit weird to start a conversation about her, since you and Sucrose don’t really get along “Sucrose? I’m not sure. Do you want me to help find her?” “No, no no no, uh, Timaeus, I need you to help distract Albedo tomorrow, mild difficulty experiment, anything” “Is that all? All Right” Scholar alchemist agreed to lend you a hand “Thanks, Timaeus”

You headed off to your next destination ‘Alright, time for a hard part’ the last part of your plan is rather hard, you wondered if he gonna help you

“Mark it as done!” wow that was.. easy, perhaps it’s because of three high-quality bottles of wine in his hands. You asked.. or rather, hired anemo bard to play songs for the night and extra requested to let the wind carry the song to you.

In the evening, you have scouted the area you wanted to give the alchemist your gift and found the perfect place. An area where you can see both the city of freedom and the icy summit, high enough for the gentle breeze to flow, beautifully decorated with flowers and greenery. Starsnatch cliff, also the home of the flower which held meaning, the truest feelings of prodigal son, Cecilia.

The next day everything went according to plan. Light meal fully prepared with the help of the pyro girl, Timaeus kept Albedo busy so he couldn’t come home and caught you and Klee in action.

Quite late night when you knocked on Alice’s door, the blonde, still in his usual attire opened to greet the unknown guests. “Y/N? What are you doing here this late hour?” Judging from the angle of the moon, it's around 9-10 PM “Hey, what about me?” eyepatch covering male’s hand and he placed his elbow on the opened door, the alchemist only nodded to his presence “Evening Bedo, I would like to show you something, could you come with me please?” you don’t normally use the formal language after being with him for so long. He can sense your shyness from the way you speak and your body language “I’d love to go but Klee..”

You pointed to the man behind you “Don’t worry about little Klee, just go enjoy your time” he basically dragged the alchemist out of his house

Chitchat along the way, fingers intertwined with his “Not sleepy yet aren’t you?” you bent down and look at him in the eyes “Not at all, I’m rather excited about what you prepared for me” giggled to his answer “Good, 'cause the night is still young!” you have reached your destination, Large fabric covering the grassy ground, a basket filled with snacks lies atop, along with a flower vase to decorate the scenery. Log of wood has bags and books resting against it. The wind bringing the scent of white flowers and the tune of the harp. Moon and star shining bright, needlessly of other light sources.

“Didn’t know you had anything romantic in mind” he teased your boldness “..well, what do you think?” hiding your embarrassment and teases the alchemist back

Sitting down to the location you prepared, he started to examine the scene “There’s no musician nearby, nor to any instruments.. Am I the only one hearing the melody?” Trying to find a scientific explanation for a strange event “The wind carries messages. Was music not a kind of message too?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, drowning in the love you gave him

“Enjoying it hmm? Here, I prepared some light food for us” slowly getting plates and snacks out from the weaved basket, the fabric is soon filled with various types of dishes "You’re not gonna sit on your seat?” his arms tightened, head bury to your shoulder “..I don't want to move” it’s rare seeing him clingy to you like this “you’re adorable you know” finally commented on his action

“We got your favorite,” one of your dishes has turned to Albedo’s favorite “These are canapés, I chose bread base, topped with different types of savory” bite-sized dishes, you know he prefers smaller portions

Pointing to each topping one by one, explaining what each one is made of. In his eyes, you’re like a professional chef

“Bedo, check this one out” you pulled out Fisherman’s toast with clover ketchup, onions, cheese, and heart-shaped parleys “..Fish-Flavored Toast, Klee’s specialty. You’re so thoughtful, I have to thank her later” he pecked your cheek, definitely in love

“And we got desserts- after savory alright Bedo?” His hand was already reaching for the dish, you have to stop his fast hand Brownies, Berry Mille-Feuille, and a jar of chocolate chip cookies are all making him drool “Shall we dig in?” He suggested, perhaps the desserts engaging him.

Your hypothesis was turned down after seeing him having a high appetite for savory, you figured he actually wanted to savor your cooking

Hours passed and you both are finally full, cuddling against the wooden log, enjoying the melody floating in the air. His platinum hair reflects the elegant moonlight, half-lidded eyes resting against your neck, handheld on yours. You looked up in the sky- its almost time

“Albedo?” He replied with a sweet hum, glancing up at you “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” “..my birthday. but I still don’t understand why you chose to celebrate it tonight” “Wouldn’t be nicer to receive a gift directly after the clock strikes midnight?” Lifted his chin to face you, he’s so close to you, closer than usual

Both yours and his cheek painted rosy, he cupped your face and look deeply into your eyes. “was all this not my birthday gifts?” “nope.. would you like to find out what it is?”

Moon motions overhead, the clock strikes midnight, soft breeze touched exposed skin, the sound of the harp soaring in the sky. stars as the witness, Cecilia as the oath, feelings as vow sealed between the two bodies.

Hand slide by the side of his neck, placing on the backside and pulled him closer, half-lidded eyes slowly closed, chest-pounding hard, tilted your head to the side a little-

sweet lips finally placed on his loving ones, passionated and full of affection, butterflies flying in your stomach. After a while, you break the timeless kiss

“Happy birthday my beloved Albedo”

#albedo x reader #albedo genshin x reader #albedo x you #albedo x gn reader #13Days13AlbedoFanfics #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader

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aurora-daily · 3 years

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Runaway with AURORA: we meet the songwriting sprite to talk about music old + new

'We simply have to survive. And that is enough'

Interview by Blossom Caldarone for gigwise (July 8th, 2021).

A textbook empath and considerate soul, Norway’s AURORA has an endearing air of childlike sensitivity. Comfortably seated in her mother’s French dress, we caught up over Zoom amid the frenzied #runawayaurora trend and the singer’s monumental TikTok rise.

AURORA’s 2016 single ‘Runaway’ is now the dainty accompaniament to millions of short videos on the increasingly influential TikTok. Predominantly featuring suburban teenagers, the trend has encouraged people to find the charm in their otherwise mundane corners of the world. “Seeing the beauty in the small things is something we all lost on the way” she says. Whether users film lakeside days out, pose elegantly or capture early morning sun beams, the trend's theme is strikingly on brand for AURORA: “It’s nice that people have created a wholesome vibe to it - you never know with the trends! I’m happy it’s not anything horrible.”

Momentarily gazing at the mountains outside her Bergen window, it’s clear to see AURORA isn’t fazed by the numbers that currently skirt her name. “It’s a very abstract thing for me and therefore I don’t spend time trying to understand it. I’ve just been home, doing my normal things, cooking my dinner, reading my books and being in the studio. I’m very grateful that people are letting my song into their hearts” she softly explains.

Written when she was only 11, the song platforms a prematurely advanced AURORA grapple with the concept of running away from the people we love when we are in pain. “Just like a dog that goes out and dies alone in the forest, we do the same. We struggle so much in talking about these very mutual, normal feelings but can’t deal with them when we are going through them ourselves.”

It’s a universal reality that stumps any age or decade, and her philosophy on the song’s ability to resonate is profound: “Music, unlike us, has no age. If it’s good or relatable, or if it has nerve, it will never die and it will always make sense to someone.”

She’s embarked on a week of interviews, and I’m her last before the weekend. Conscious she may not want to wax lyrical about Runaway any longer, I turn the discussion to the things that make AURORA tick. “My biggest muse is Mother Earth and nature. It always has been and always will be” she gushes. “It grounds me, it opens me up. It humbles and strengthens me.”

Her Nordic roots affording her the luxury of stunning outdoor access, she talks effusively of its importance, and how life’s increasingly high tempo is detrimental. Astutely describing being human as an “extreme sport”, she accredits success to ending up in her own bed at the end of the day. “The world is way too demanding in every area. It’s almost impossible” she laments. Her approach to living is one of simplicity; where surviving is the only necessity and anything else a mere plus. “It’s a matter of life or death, we simply have to survive. And that is enough.”

With last year’s lockdown allowing her to fully immerse herself in her artistry, AURORA found herself revelling in the desolate streets and empty shops, whilst finding ultimate inspiration in the silence. Her introverted intentions thrived whilst she empathised with the struggling extroverts in the world: “Silence is so rare and I love it. I try to be in silence as much as I can”. AURORA famously doesn’t listen to much music apart from fellow celestial Enya: “I’m afraid I’ll miss out on an idea if I’m listening to something else. And I don’t want to be effected by other melodies. It contaminates me” she explains. A theory shared with anything but pretence, AURORA evidently has an ability to hone in on the nuances within the quiet; a skill that requires patience and devotion to creative processes.

Her timely mid-pandemic single ‘Exist For Love’ is a song that prioritises the fundamental importance of love. A delicate step away from previous AURORA releases, its traditional tendencies embody the timeless essence of a '50s love song, a trait only enhanced by its cinematic Isabel Waller-Bridge arranged strings: “I just felt like we needed a divine love song. I truly believe that when we understand love - unselfish pure love - we understand why we exist” she plainly explains, again finding a way to strip down concepts that feel hard to define.

“When I write, I think a lot about what the world will need. I wish to make something that will be good for people.” Often writing selflessly, boundaries are key; being an empath can be exhausting. “I can’t really read the newspapers. I have to learn things through discussion, and then dive into matters if I want to educate myself more. I spend little time on social media because it makes us sad, but it also makes me sad to see so many sad people on social media.” Surrounding herself with others who also tend to give more than they receive, AURORA ensures her good intentions are not misplaced.

As for her fans, they are at the forefront: “I think a lot about them. It’s all for them.” But it will come as no surprise to learn that she doesn’t like the more vacuous side of the industry, and finds getting recognised slightly unsettling. “It’s good to know it’s all worth it. As long as you can say something that means something, you can use the music as a tool to support people out there” she justifies.

Her new single ‘Cure For Me’, out now, is another example of AURORA’s altruistic approach to songwriting. A playful tune that will surprise fans with its cheekiness, it debunks the idea that humans should ever need to be cured, and that anything other than who we are is abnormal. “People are very self-critical and it doesn’t take much for us to assume that something is wrong because we look different, or act different, instead of just accepting that we are different. We are all biologically designed to be unique” she explains. We go on to discuss how we’re led to believe that we’re crazy for being emotional or sensitive: “That’s what inspired me to make this song, as an anti-gaslighting song where you just celebrate that it’s fine, and you’re going to be fine, and I don’t need a ‘Cure For Me' because I’m perfectly ok as I am.”

The song’s juxtaposed setup is a peek into what’s to come: “It’s fun for me to be less serious about things. It’s very new for me. I am often very serious in all my music. I really feel like we need a bit of light right now, everything has been so intense.”

Heading into a newfound artistic side, AURORA is considering how the new sound should be consumed too. With her mystical ability to sonify nature and art, AURORA’s eclectic and ethereal world has always captured feeling in a visual way. “I love to be able to shape how people see my music, even if just a little bit. For many people, it’s easier to understand the whole thing when they can see it as well.” She is currently painting an “intimidating” canvas and studying Egyptian history, alongside Greek and Roman mythology. Finding inspiration in their bohemian attitudes towards female roles, AURORA is focussing on the old, the new and repeated behaviours in between: “Everything we’ve done in history, both good and horrible, has sometimes taught us to be better and sometimes not. Our patterns of behaviour are very interesting.”

So with ‘Cure For Me’ here and a well-researched new artistic process in full flow, AURORA is peacefully going about her business and prioritising the small things that make her feel truly content. Currently, she's filling her home with flowers: “It makes me more happy every day than I could ever imagine.” Her intentions are in the most authentic place; a space that prioritises connection and understanding, and one that prioritises the heart in a world where its complexities are so often dismissed. “As long as we remember to take care of the mind and the heart, we’ll have the capacity to care for others as well” she finally assures me.

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #cure for me #new album

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scarletwinterxx · 3 years

Text

Timeless pt. 6 - Doyoung AU

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART TWO.5 || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || FINALE

Doyoung motioned for me to go ahead so I did, him following closely behind. The place looked the same, if anything it looked like no one lived here. The place was spotless, furniture's looks unused, the only sign that someone’s living here are the shoes by the front door and the few fruits on the basket.

I continued to look around, not noticing that Doyoung was now standing beside me and waiting for me to say something

“Oh I uh- I didn’t really think this through” I mumbled, nervously fidgeting with my fingers

“Clearly, why don’t you take a seat? Do you want anything to drink?” it wasn’t like he was being cold, he just sounded tired.

“Water sounds good, thanks”

With that he walked across his kitchen while I sat by the island, just watching him. I realized I looked a bit creepy just watching him like that so I settled my eyes on my lap.

“Here you go” I hear him say, making me look up. I mumbled a quick thank you.

Doyoung just stayed on the other side of the kitchen island that separated the kitchen and living room, leaning on the counter behind him with his arms across his chest. His gaze never leaving me, I felt tiny under his gaze.

“You know, you said when I come back you’ll be smiling at me” I mumbled, I’m not sure if he even heard me with all the mumbling I’ve been doing. I don’t even know why I keep on mumbling

He let out a chuckle before speaking, “It’s been a long day for me, and clearly I didn’t expect you to be back”

“I didn’t either”

“So why are you back?”

“I just felt like it’s time” I gave him my answer, after that there was just silence.

I know Doyoung has a lot more things to say, questions to ask like he mentioned in his letter but right now no words are really being spoken between us

“Are you okay?” his question caught me a bit off-guard

“Me? Yea I mean as okay as I can be”

“That’s good to hear”

Then silence again

“Doyoung-”

“I-” we both spoke at the same time,

He motioned for me to continue on, “Go on”

“No, you go. Ask away, that’s the least I could do” I couldn’t even look at him, feeling too nervous under his gaze. His silence just added to my fuel to my anxious nerves.

All I heard was him taking his keys from the counter then walking towards the door, that’s only when I looked up to look what he’s doing

“What are you doing?” I asked him

Doyoung had one hand on the door and another holding his coat,

“Somewhere, want to come with?”

“Weren’t we about to have a very serious talk?” I asked back

“We will, I just suddenly felt like going on a trip” he shrugged

I stood up from my seat to follow him, when we got to his car he still haven’t said where we’re going. It looked like we were going away from the city

“Are you okay?” I asked him the same question he asked me, looking over at him I can see he was thinking about an answer to give me

“I’ve been worse, been better too” he answered

“How about now? what do you feel now?” I asked, he gave me a brief glance before looking back on the road

“I’m thinking whether this is actually real or I’m back in my office passed out and dreaming”

His answer broke my heart, I knew I hurt him but hearing him say it hits me like a thousand bricks.

“Sorry” was all I could say, how I wish I could mend what I broke

“The worst part is this wouldn’t be the first time I’ll dream about you being here, with me. Then I wake up and realize you’re still gone”

I tried to discreetly wipe the few tears that escaped, I knew there were some tears that were bound to be shed, I didn’t know it would be this bad

“You should hate me, after what I did. You don’t deserve that”

“No I don’t, but I want to know why you did it” he replied

“Because”

“Because what? You got tired of me? of us? you got cold feet? you were scared? Any reason would be better than having no reason at all”

“Because I love you!” I screamed, catching both of us by surprise. It was the first time I’ve ever said that I loved him outloud.

“You loved me, that’s the reason why you left me? because you loved me?”

“The irony right. There we were, about to get married and spend the rest of our lives together. You would think I would be the happiest girl. I was. Remember when you felt that feeling of being seen for the first time...”

“All our lives, you were all I saw. Even when you didn’t need me, I was there ready to drop everything just incase you do. Even when Joy thinks I’m so stupid for just not telling you I liked you all this time but instead I drank my feelings away and accidentally confessed to you...”

“Even when you were happy with someone else, I was happy seeing you happy. Even then, I was there.”

I wiped the furious tears that are flowing down on my face, trying to suppress the sobs as I try to speak

“I was scared that it wouldn’t be like that for all our lives, I didn’t give myself the chance to see anyone else because you set the standards so high I wouldn’t even look at another’s guy way if it wasn’t you. All the time I was gone, I learned how to love me, I learned to be independent, I learned to live with just me. I’m not scared of being alone, don’t get me wrong. But I also learned that I won’t be able to love anyone else the way I did with you, it’s scary to think you’ll only feel like that once in this lifetime”

“Did you ever think to ask me how I feel?” Doyoung spoke up, his voice softer this time as if he was scared he was going to make me cry if it goes one decibel higher

“You have a tendency to not say what’s on your mind, You keep your distance” I answered, “I knew, I just wasn’t sure because you never said anything”

“You’re right about one part, I might have never said it but in my own ways I tried to show you. Remember when you missed prom? I didn’t want you to miss out so I threw you your own prom night. When you got drunk on your birthday? that was the night I knew I couldn’t keep away from you. You looked at me like I put all the stars in your sky, who else would ever see me like that?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked

“I was scared too, Was it worth risking a lifetime of friendship for my own selfish want? I already had you in my life, I was okay to take what you were ready to give. It just seems like we were both waiting on each other”

How can two smart people be this dumb. I can already hear those kinds of comments from our friends. And I agree, we could’ve avoided all this trouble if only we said what we really felt

“We’re kind of dumb aren’t we” I told him, looking out the window to see the scenery passing by

“We are”

For a while neither of us said anything. The silence didn’t feel heavy this time, the atmosphere didn’t feel suffocating. We still have issues to work through, we’re taking one step at a time.

“Doie”

“Mhm”

“I missed you”

I didn’t hear a reply from him, instead I feel his hand reaching out for mine. Intertwining our fingers together.

After our little drive last night, Doyoung dropped me off at Joy’s place. I felt bad for keeping him out til late last night since he still had work the next day but the hug he gave me told me he didn’t mind. He just held me so tight against him, I can tell he was still trying to figure out if it was a dream.

“It’s too early for you to be smiling, and where were you last night?” Joy asked

“With Doyoung” my answer made her almost spit out the orange juice she was drinking

“Excuse me?! You were with who?”

“Kim Doyoung, you know that tall dude you’re friends with. My supposed to be fiance” I answered

“Okay okay hold up. I’m going to be late so we’ll continue on with this conversation later” Joy said as she pick her stuff from the counter, “You’re staying here tonight right?” she added

“Where else would I stay?” I asked back,

“At Doyoung’s since you’re back together or whatever”

“It’s not like that” I mumbled, and it is the truth. I’m really not sure where our conversations leads us, what we’re calling this relationship or whatever

“Okay well see you later, Bye”

I spent the rest of the day productively. Since I’m moving back here, I was finishing up with my new working arrangements. It was a good thing that the company I worked for had an office branch back here. After talking about my plans to move back here, they courteously allowed me to switch branches.

I didn’t even notice it was already late afternoon when my phone rang, Doyoung’s phone flashing on my screen

“Hello?” I said as I pick up

“Are you free tonight?” his question took my surprise, wondering what got him to ask that

“Uh- I guess?”

“You guess?” he chuckled, “I mean, yes. I really didn’t make any plans tonight. Unless you call ordering take out as plans then yes I’m free”

“How about instead of take-out, you can have some home cooked meal?” his question got me smiling already

“I would never turn down good food, why? Are you cooking tonight?”

“If you come over, then why not” I don’t why but his statement got my blood rushing to my cheeks

“Okay, sounds like a plan”

“Okay, should I pick you up from Joy’s?” Doyoung asked, I could he was enjoying this. I was too. Whatever this was.

“If it isn’t too much bother then sure”

I was never like this but his invitation got me scrambling to the bathroom to get ready, I had to remind myself it was only dinner but I was still nervous. It felt like I was going on my very first date.

The thought making me blush yet again.

After struggling to pick an outfit, an activity that shouldn’t have been as hard as it was, I finally settled with some comfy knitted sweater paired with simple jeans. I tried to make it seem like I’m not trying but still looking cute.

This whole finally confessing to him thing got me feeling nervous all of a sudden.

“Hey, you look flushed. Are you okay?” were Doyoung’s first words when I opened the door for him

“I’m alright, why?” I asked back

“You look so red, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, laying the back of his hand on my forehead. For the tenth time today, this guy got me blushing yet again.

“Yep, should we go now yea that sounds good let’s go” I told him so fast then pulled him out of Joy’s apartment.

The ride to his place was less hectic, we just talked about how our day went, what he’s been up to these days, and all that. It was easy to fall in a conversation with him, I admit I missed this too.

As promised he cooked dinner for us, it was nice. Better than I remember, I was suddenly reminded how he used to come to my place to cook us dinner even after a long day at work

“Thank you for tonight, I missed this” I told him, we’re now cleaning up the dishes we used. He insisted that he would just clean it up later but I didn’t want to leave it out. Plus he already cooked for us, it was the least I could do.

Passing him the last plate I washed while he pats it dry. I wiped my hand on another towel and leaned on the counter beside him

“Me too” he was looking down, a small smile on his lips

He looks so adorable I wanted to kiss the little smile on his lips

Wait

I thought, looking around as if someone heard what I just thought of. My eyes as big as saucers.

“Y/N? You okay?” He asked, putting away the last plate on the cabinet beside me head. My eyes following his movements.

“I actually have a question” I answered, now that we’re on this new chapter of our relationship and we definitely learned from past mistakes I’m going to ask instead of guessing like we did before.

“What exactly are we? I know I just got back and we still have a lot to talk about, but it would be nice to know what we are or if you don’t totally hate me”

I looked over at him, waiting for an answer. His gaze wasn’t on me, jaws tense, lips pursed,

I’m starting to think it was a bad idea that I asked when suddenly I was trapped between the counter and his body. My eyes level with his chest. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him yet, so I just stayed frozen. My hands clutching on the counter behind me until it turned white.

“I’m going to throw that question back to you, because I already told you when you’re ready, in your own time, place and pace, come back home. Now that you’re here, I’m not going to let go of you. Are you okay with that?”

Before I could give him an answer he was speaking again,

“We don’t have to go back to what we were before. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to. If we’re going to do this, I want us to do this with just us and no one else dictating what to do with our relationship. Just you and me”

“You and me, I like that” I repeated with a smile.

I feel his hand under my chin, raising it so now I’m looking up at him eye to eye

“I’m sorry it us this long” he whispered

“I’m sorry I walked away” I whispered back, his finger gently caressing my cheek as if I was the most fragile thing

I don’t know if it was just me or the space between us was getting smaller and smaller yet it felt like he was still to far from me.

“I’m never letting go of you now” he told me, his forehead now resting on mine. He was so close to me I could feel his breath fanning my face. I can already tell my cheeks are as red as they could be right now

“Okay”

and with that he closed the gap between us. His lips landing softly on mine.

In that moment I saw our whole history play before, when we were kids playing in my backyard, to our awkward teen years, to getting our college degrees to almost getting married. Our whole timeline replaying in my mind, a smile making it’s way on my lips

When we broke apart, we didn’t dare to break from the hold we had on each other. His arms around my waist and my arms around his shoulders,

“What got you smiling like that?” he asked then gave me a little kiss on the nose

“Just how long it took us to get here, honestly I would do it again if it meant this is where we end up” I mumbled, relaxing in his arms. I’ve never felt more at home.

It doesn’t matter how long it took us to get here because my mom was right, love like ours is timeless. It’s the kind of love that you can’t measure with time. We’ve loved each other on our own ways all throughout the years we’ve known each other. Now we have all the time in the world to give the love we both deserve.

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nightingale101 · 3 years

Text

Don’t take the money.

So slowly writing chapter 2, i figure i might as well post the first chapter here.

~~~

Somebody broke me once, Love was a currency A shimmering balance act, I think that I laughed at that And I saw your face and hands, Coloured in sun and then I think I understand

~~**~~

This was different. Those other times, love had burnt like an uncontrollable fire, consuming everything and everyone in its path and burning itself out in the process. It was all consuming, a fire they had lit under his skin that turned everything it touched to ash and ruin. But with V… with V it was different. It was…. Warmth

One

Sweet Disposition.

A moment, a love

A dream, a laugh

A kiss, a cry

Our rights, our wrongs

“I don’t understand. They- Grayson said - at the oil fields”

“he either lied or wasn’t high enough up the Chain to be in the know.”

“But I-“

“Focus, We have to move. Reinforcements are probably on their way here as we speak.”

“I know- I just.”

“It’s alright, we can figure this out. Together, as a family.”

“yeah. Ok... one thing at a t- oh shit, that alarm. Fuck”

“We have to move. Now. Do you think you can help me carry him, V?”

The voices came to him from far, far away, a lifetime away it felt like. filtering in through the inky blackness he currently found himself drifting in. afloat, lost, confused.

He didn’t know them. At least he didn’t think he knew them, he couldn’t remember. Well, he really couldn’t remember much of anything right know. He wasn’t even sure he knew himself. He wasn’t even sure what his name was. Where was he… How did he get here… why was he here... why couldn’t he remember?

V… was that a name...? Was that his name? No… No he didn’t think so, but it was confusing. He knew V… He was sure of that. He wanted to… save them.

~~**~~

He didn’t know how long he’d been there. floating in the dark, it seemed timeless. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, it could have been a year as far as he could tell. He wasn’t sure where he was, or why, or how he got there. But he remembered his name now.

Johnny.

~~**~~

The voices still floated to him though the darkness. Not as clear as the first time, but he caught the occasional word through the muffled haze that seemed to surround him.

Plan. Silverhand. Night City. Dying. Border. Wake up. V. Bleeding. Badlands. Lucky. Wake up. Please.

There were more than the first two voices now, although he couldn’t tell exactly how many. Some of them seemed to blend together and he couldn’t distinguish one voice from the other. He heard the first voice, the voice he now could recognize as V, the most often. She often talks to him alone, or at least he doesn’t hear anyone else while she’s around. He wonders if this means he saved her. If he could just remember what happened.

~~**~~

He knows who he now. He is Johnny Silverhand. Deserter. Rockerboy. Terrorist. All round bastard.

He remembers all of it. Alt. Arisaka tower. Rouge. Smasher. And V. God he remembers V. A pang of guilt clutches around his heart when he thinks of her. That’s new he thinks. He hadn’t really felt guilty about something before. Everything was inconsequential to him before, someone else’s problem.

He remembers It felt like torture to him. Watching her slowly get worse, her body and mind slowly being taken over by him, with nothing he could do about it. He remembers when he stopped the elevator, taking control of her arm to push the button, the fear in her voice. And he remembers his own fear, when she’d passed out, and he couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard he tired. But, he could still hear her voice… she was talking to him, wherever he was. Which means she was alive, right? He’d… Gone with Alt? is this what being a part of her was like? This… nothingness... but something. And still being able to here V.

He doesn’t remember anything after speaking with V in Cyberspace. Seeing her red digital form, arguing with him of all things. She didn’t want him to leave, wanted to find a way for them both to live. One moment they were talking… and then he was here. Nowhere.

~~**~~

He was starting to feel things again. and everything… Hurt. There was pain firing in all his nerves all over his body. His head was throbbing, sharp pain spikes were running down his back and adding to the dull ache in his legs…. His... legs...? Was this phantom pain from his non-existent body? Like what he had felt when he first lost his arm. Was he feeling the injuries that his body would have sustained from that last fight at the tower...? Or- no. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea that he actually had a body again. Because that would mean V... was... and he didn’t want to think about that. As long as she was alive, it was all worth it. He’d given his life for hers, and he couldn’t think of better thing to lay down his life for.

~~**~~

He’s… confused. He has a body, he’s pretty sure of that, can feel jolts of pain running down his spine, way to vivid to be phantom pains. But he hears V talking… wherever he, they, are, she’s here, and talking to Panam. He tries to pay attention to their convocation.

“… signs of improvement.” Panam was saying. “but no guarantees, V.”

He thinks they’re talking about him. Whatever is going on, he thinks he’s getting better too. He didn’t feel like he was floating anymore. He felt anchored. Secure. Still in darkness, but he didn’t feel like he was floating endlessly. He was more aware of his body; of the pain he was feeling. Or whoever’s body he was in, because as far as he knew his body was a skeleton and some rusted metal buried under the oil fields.

“I know…” came V’s voice, she let out a sigh. “One day at a time, right?”

V sounded exhausted. She sounded like she did when he’d taken her to the Pistis Sophia, after she’d woken up, a pain in her chest and barely being able to walk. Like she was running on empty, holding on by a thread that was threatening to snap at any moment and send her plummeting to the ground.

“Right. And anyway. We should talk about you.” Panam said.

“one thing at a time, Panam.” V responded, “Besides, there’s not a lot to talk about on that front anyway. Mitch is still chasing down his old contacts, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but that’s not really what I meant.” Panam continued. “I meant, how are you doing? I know you haven’t been sleeping and-“

“Time is short… Sleeping seems like a waste.”

“If you don’t sleep, you’ll burn out so much faster. You-“

The conversation faded to the background as his thoughts sawm around his head. V. It was odd not knowing exactly how she was feeling, what was going through her head. When he was in her mind, her thoughts and feelings flowed into him, and he could reassure her without even speaking, steel her nerves, calm her racing heart. He wanted to reach her now. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to speak to her…

“…V” His voice was so small he thought as the blackness surrounded him, not his intention at all.

“Johnny!?” he heard V say, her voice full of concern but also hopfullness, and then the nothingness came once again.

~~**~~

When Johnny Silverhand woke up it was sunrise, the pale orange light stung the edges of his vision. His eyelids were heavy, like he hadn’t opened them for so long that they resisted the unfamiliar movement. It took an enormous effort to even open them at all, and even more effort to try and keep them open. His whole body ached. Every inch. From his legs to his head. From dull aches, to sharp jolts, he felt it all. Even moving his eyes too look around like it hurt.

He was in a tent. He recognized it as an Aldecaldo tent, like the one V had awoken in after she’d passed out in front of Panam. He was vaguely aware of frantic voices around him, but he was more focused on breathing, the ache in his chest as his lungs rose and fell. The fact that he was even breathing at all.

And then she was there.

“V…” His voice was hoarse, and his throat felt like it had been fucked by a sandpaper covered dick. But it was worth it, her face lit up with a smile the second he spoke.

“Johnny… Oh my god.” She sounded so relieved, he heard her dragging something to his side and she sat down next to him. With the most effort he’d ever needed to do anything, he turned his head slightly to look at her. His neck protested, loudly.

“I don’t…” it was taking all his effort to stay awake. He felt Vs hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“It’s okay.” She said softly, as he was rapidly losing the fight with his eyelids. “just rest… we can talk later”

~~**~~

The next time Johnny woke up he felt marginally better, as in he didn’t feel like he had been runover by semi-truck, just a minivan. He wasn’t sure what time it was, sometime at night he thought, Judging from the lack of light in the tent. When he turned his head slightly, he could make out a person sleeping, or at the very least laying down, on a cot opposite him.

He moved his hand to reach out to them, not entirely sure why, but just knowing he wanted to. With a protest of pain that shot out from his wrist, up his arm, and down his spine; his hand slid off the cot and thumped onto the floor. It felt like trying to move a waterlogged post, slow and impossibly heavy. He almost imdently wanted to bring his arm back up onto the bed, to a more comfortable position, but quickly decide that was way more effort that he was willing to put in right at this moment and would probably make him pass out again. He settled on moving his fingers, enjoying the feeling of his nails scraping though the carpet, or mat, or… whatever was on the floor of the tent, he couldn’t be bothered looking. He became aware that he couldn’t move his other hand, or his other arm in general. His arm that in his original body would have been his cybernetic arm. He hated that feeling. He let out a sigh.

He saw the person on the other cot stir and begin to sit up, it was V.

“Johnny.”

“Hey... V.” he croaked out. She stood and walked over to him, taking a seat by his side again. “I ...” he began, but wasn’t sure how to finished that sentence, or even what he wanted to say. she reached for something next to him, a bottle of water. She placed a straw in it and brought the other end to his lips. He drank. It made throat feel significantly better. When he was done, she put the bottle back down, somewhere just beyond his sight.

“Its okay.” She picked up his arm and placed it back on the bed, resting it across his chest. “first off, how are you feeling?”

“Fucking preem.” He said, throat still protesting slightly, “Apart from the fact that I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck or ten”

“Yeah, I figured...” V responded, her eyes looking over his body, as if she could see the pain. It was quite for a moment.

“V…” He said softly, breaking thought the quiet, she looked at him. “What the fuck happened… I don’t... I don’t remember”

She let out a sigh and looked up at a ceiling. He could see her eyes dart back and forth as she got her thoughts in order. The last time he’d seen her do this, they were on the roof above Mistys, making one last choice, and he was feeling sick to his stomach. But at this moment, it felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was. “Johnny, what’s the last thing you remember.”

“talking to you… inside Mikoshi and then… Nothing.” His voice came out more of a hushed whisper than he would have liked.

“okay… its… right.” She began. She slapped her hands down on her lap, he wasn’t sure why, maybe to psych herself up. “so, while we were talking in Mikoshi, before we came to a decision, Alt appeared. Do you remember?

He shook his head slightly. He knew he’d already came to a decision; he would die so she could live. It was V who was still wrestling with the choice. V continued. “She said there was an anomaly. Something that she didn’t account for, and then you disappeared. Just… Blinked out of existence right before my eyes.”

She paused to take a shaky breath.

“She then told me a location inside Arasaka Tower to go to, close to where we were, If I chose to go back to my body... which I obviously I did... and in that room was the anomaly. In that room was you.” She looked at Johnny. “Your body.”

He swallowed. “I don’t understand…. Grayson said…”

“He lied” V said. “Or he just genuinely didn’t know. But this” she placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart. “This is you. Not a clone, or a replica. You.”

He let that sink in for a moment. He’d known that he was in a body. He just hadn’t thought it had been his body. At least it was slightly less concerning that he couldn’t move his left arm now. The prosthetic must have been damaged. “...How?”

“Cryogenically frozen.” V said. “honestly, lucky you still have all of your fingers and toes. Cryo freezing’s a crapshoot even these days, I couldn’t imagine how it was back then.”

Lucky to even be alive, he thought, from what little he knew about the Cryo technology from 2023, but leave it to Arasaka to have the top tier technology squirreled away in their basement. “so, is that why I feel like I’ve been run over?”

“Maybe partially.” V said. “but, near as I could tell... they froze your body right after they used soul killer on you. So all your injures from the tower, they’re still fresh.”

Oh. That made more sense now. He did fall out of a helicopter, and get his ass handed to him by Smasher. “so... Alt just uploaded my mind back into my body? And I was good to go.”

V smiled at him, a sad smile. He decided he didn’t like it. “not exactly… Johnny when I got to you, you were dead. You had no pulse, you weren’t breathing. Me and Panam just barely managed to get you back. We didn’t know if you were going to wake up…. I didn’t…. you scared the hell out of me.”

“It’s payback…” He said. She was upset, and he hated that it was because of him. Her hand was still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Despite the protests from his arm, he moved to place his hand over the top of hers, letting his fingers come to rest between hers. “For when I thought...”

“its not funny Johnny.” She sounded annoyed, but she didn’t move her hand. “You’ve been in a coma for nearly a month.”

A month his mind echoed. He could feel himself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness, but he was suddenly aware of the implication of sleeping for a month. The moment V’s mind was placed back in her body, she was a ticking time bomb, and the clock was set for six months. And now that was down to five. She didn’t deserve that. His chest ached as guilt wrapped itself around his heart.

They were quiet. His hand was still over hers, their fingers interlaced. She had begun to move thumb, gently and slowly stroking the side of his palm. He in turn began to move his thumb, caressing the back of her hand. Her hands were so much smaller than his and they seemed much more delicate, but he knew they could be just as deadly as his own if she needed them to be. He wanted to ask more questions, but more than that he didn’t want this moment to end, just being able to touch her- actually touch her. And just enjoying this. This unspoken thing between them.

He was in love with her. He’d been aware that for a while now, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. He thinks it might have started bubbling in his chest around the time he took her to the Pistis Sophia, when he’d committed to saving her.

He’d been in love before, he knows that. Alt. Rouge. And even Kerry at some points. But this… This was different. Those other times, love had burnt like an uncontrollable fire, consuming everything and everyone in its path and burning itself out in the process. It was all consuming, a fire they had lit under his skin that turned everything it touched to ash and ruin. But with V… with V it was different. It was…. Warmth. Like a fire you had built to keep the winter chill at bay. it surrounded you with its warmth and comfort so that whatever storm you were taking shelter from, didn’t matter. It still burned with ferocity, like all fires did, but it didn’t feel like it would consume him and everything thing in its path. It felt... safe… like he needed this fire to survive, and not like he need to survive this fire.

He wanted to tell her, but as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his grasp on consciousness slip. “V…”

“You should rest..” She said, she had the softest smile on her face. “Its late. And we’ll have all the time in the world to talk when you’re stronger.”

He thought that sentiment was laughable, as his eyes slowly fell shut against his will. He’d always been weak.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #v cyberpunk #johnny x v

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

Rules & Roses

“tripping over my own feet”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2022

With the slight promotion I earned in January came the perk of making my own schedule. Since people worked for me, I got to “sleep in” until about nine or ten in the morning— and by “sleep in”, I mean that it gave me a chance to roll out of bed and go for a run every morning with enough time to shower and still get breakfast. But I liked it. I liked that I wasn’t having to rush to work at five anymore. It was all at my own pace. My later schedule also meant that I could afford to go to a better park with a nicer trail to run on. At seven in the morning, it was a fairly popular place with everyone running around each other while trying to dodge the dogs and kids running around. The trail itself was longer, but it circled around a gorgeous garden, then led to a great view of the city so that I could see the Capitol building. I loved it, and it seemed that everyone else did, too. It was hard to run around the hikers and the families that were taking up the width of the path, yet it was always worth it.

Fridays were the busiest. Since the weekend was approaching, tourism normally spiked, and there were some people who were already off of work, or their bosses were being lenient with the hours. So, the already busy path was… full. It was ridiculous. Still, that didn’t deter me from finding a parking spot, lacing up my running shoes, filling up my water bottle at the fountain between the public bathrooms, pushing my earbuds into my ears, then heading onto the path.

Immediately, I almost ran into a little kid that was running straight across the path to catch the frisbee his dad threw a little too far. I stopped, rolled my eyes, then, when he was out of the way, I continued on. How were kids awake at 7AM? I hated summer. When I was a kid, I spent all day in bed when I wasn’t in school— which I thought was a timeless tradition. For the most part, I was sure most kids would prefer that to be the case, anyhow, which was probably why I was so shocked when I saw so many kids at that park every morning. His dad apologized with a wave as I ran by. I hardly acknowledged him. America was so different compared to the rest of the world. Americans liked to keep to themselves, however, there were some that were a little too nice, hence my hesitancy to wave back.

Near the end of the path, where there was a huge U-turn to keep the flow of traffic on the path moving, I found myself slowing down slightly to make sure I didn’t run into any of the tourists that were stopping to smell the roses in the garden. My eyes were up, trying to gauge if anyone was going to run into me. It seemed safe. The awkward part about this U-turn, however, was that everyone who had been ahead of me on my run was now turning around to run the opposite way. The backs of heads I recognized were now gaining faces to attach to them. And the eye contact… Don’t get me started. I practically had to keep my eyes up, but that meant that everyone running my way now had an instinctual urge to look at me, which meant that I had to look at them. It was horrible.

As I made my way around the U-turn, barely jumping out of the way before a grandma’s cane could stab my foot. When I looked up from my foot to the path, I saw someone who had just been behind me pass me, so now she was giving me a judging look as she started running in my direction to make her way back to the parking lot. Her hair was black, bangs cut to just barely touch her lashes, the length of it pulled back into a ponytail in the middle of the back of her head. Her brown eyes met my gaze for the briefest moment, but when we made that uncomfortable eye contact, she quickly looked away and sped up from a jog to a sprint. I looked down at the concrete. Making awkward eye contact with strangers was the worst… but staring at someone because they were gorgeous and you couldn’t pull your eyes away was even worse—

Wait.

“Lauren?” I questioned under my breath as I came to a sudden halt, nearly tripping on my own feet.

That woman— the one in the distance— she looked exactly like Lauren. Not like they could be sisters, but like they could be doppelgangers. I was so confused. But as I watched her continue her peaceful jog on the path, my gaze followed her while I tried to figure out if it was really her or if my mind was playing tricks on me. There were plenty of times when I thought I saw Lauren over the past thirteen years, but it never turned out to be her, but this time… I would have put money on it being Lauren.

And then someone crashed right into me.

I gasped and stumbled forward before I felt their hands grab my hips lightly in order to keep me steady. I pulled my headphones out so that I could apologize. As I caught my footing and turned around, I was met by a tall man with brown hair that was all sweaty and stuck to his forehead, a small, apologetic smile took over his face, but his hands didn’t move from my hips until he was sure that I wasn’t going to waver. I made an attempt to say sorry, but he beat me to it.

“I didn’t see that you had stopped. My apologies.”

“No worries,” I insisted while looking over my shoulder to see if I could spot that woman again. She had disappeared. As always, the ghost of Lauren Reynolds had vanished without a trace, and I was left to think that I was completely insane. Not only had I seen someone who was long long, but I had embarrassed myself by crashing into this man, and now I wasn’t even being polite by apologizing back because I was too preoccupied with looking over my shoulder. I sighed. “Sorry,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I thought I saw someone—” I shook my head. “Never mind. Sorry.” I waved shortly to him before jumping back onto my toes so that I could keep running on the path. “Sorry…” I mumbled again. “Sorry…”

He laughed at me as I reached to put my headphone back in my ear. “It’s not your fault.”

I smiled. This was… weird. He seemed nice enough, but we had been standing there while pointlessly apologizing for too long. Neither of us were required to stick around, and I definitely didn’t want to now. Every time I “saw” Lauren, it took a toll on me. Having that hope build in my chest that I would get to see her again, to hold her in my arms, to kiss her lips, and to tell her “I love you, Lauren”, only to have it crushed entirely was… draining. I couldn’t keep doing it. This was my torture, and I knew that wasn’t how she had intended for it to happen, but that was the depressing truth of loving someone who would never come back. She tried warning me that she might disappear, and at the time, I was naive enough to think that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but now that I was living in a world where I didn’t have Lauren Reynolds around anymore, it was like I was stuck in place. I traveled, right. I moved on, I thought. But every fucking time this happened, I would find myself drawn back to the memories of how happy we were together. I would never be that happy again in my life. Lauren was the real deal, and there was nothing I could do to mend my broken heart. I thought time would do it naturally… but, nope. There I was, thirteen years later, and there was this six foot Nordic God standing in front of me, yet all of my attention was on that woman who reminded me of Lauren.

I didn’t see him or Lauren’s doppelganger again for the rest of my run. Honestly, that was a relief. The less I saw of her, the faster I could forget about her. As I thought about it, my running pace sped up until my feet were pounding on the pavement and my calves started to burn. I didn’t stop, though. It took extreme diligence to make sure I didn’t run into anyone, but it felt nice to go as fast as I could, to run off every thought of Lauren Reynolds. The ghosting soft touch of her lips felt as vivid as the day she first kissed me. We were standing in a garden similar to this one, the sun beating down on us, a cool breeze passing by, the sound of birds the only thing that could possibly disrupt us for miles. We were in Romania. Lauren knew someone that had a house out in the middle of nowhere, and they offered to rent it to us for a few weeks so that we could have some time alone. On our way out there, I begged Lauren to stop the car so that I could jump out and go see all of the roses out there. The field seemed endless. The flowers were already in full bloom. It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was everything Lauren Reynolds was to me. And then she joined me in the fields, giggling at how fascinated I was with the sea of flowers. That was when she tugged at my hand, pulled me close so that our chests were touching, and for the longest moment, we stayed so close to each other that I could feel her breath on my nose. I wanted her to kiss me. I could feel myself shaking with anticipation.She was so close I could practically taste her lemon chapstick already. But neither of us moved. Finally, as I shuddered when the wind passed by, Lauren pressed her palms to my cheeks, and she made me lean into her kiss. My eyes fell shut as I gave in. My heart was skipping in my chest, butterflies swirling in my stomach until I thought I was going to pass out, and my knees weakened. If it weren’t for her hold on my face, I would have fallen over.

Lauren Reynolds.

She did that.

Even the memories alone of kissing her made me swoon. I could get lost in her chocolate brown eyes all day and no one would hear a single protest from me because that was how head over heels I was for her. I dealt with missing her for weeks on end and not knowing anything about her life simply because I couldn't imagine my life without her. I preferred having some of her than none of her. But, in the end, it wasn’t my choice. In the end, someone or something took her away from me, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. Seeing women who looked like her, like I did on that trail that morning, was going to be the death of me. It didn’t matter how similar they looked to her, they were never Lauren, and they never would be. I was going to be alone forever because I would never be able to find anyone else like her. Lauren Reynolds was everything and more to me. She was perfection. She was the whole universe bundled into one human that brought so much joy to me. All I would have until my dying breath was the ghost of Lauren following me around and the memories of loving her.

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criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss

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betweentheracks · 3 years

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On a scale of 1-5000, how annoyed do you get when people have the gall to tell you, “Wow! You’re so lucky!” when they find out that you work in entertainment and with celebrities?

Also on a scale of 1-5000, how unimpressed are you with the celebrities you end up working with?

Please share some horror stories so we can commiserate over nightmare clients! 😂

Yeef and also yikes, do I actually want to dive into this particular can of worms? Lmao.

I thoroughly see spots of red in my vision whenever people try to do the whole “Wow, that’s really cool and lucky for you! How many famous people have you met or worked with? Your life must be so glamorous and exciting!!” Like please, spare me. It isn’t glitz and glitter all the time - in fact, the fun parts are in the minority of how working in this industry goes. Beyond that, I’m not ‘lucky,’ I worked my ass off to pull this off and have never slowed my pace (until this COVID-19 chaos) to ensure my post remains relevant. In accordance to your ranking, I guess I would go with 4999 points annoyed.

Frankly, my rating and impressions of my clients are like a river that flows on and on and yet there is no apparent water to be found. I have a good rapport with most of the ones I am contracted with exclusively, but they're prone to make my feelings change from sentence to the next. Celebrities will forever remain exhaustively effervescent.

If you really want some dish, I can offer up some from a client I once worked with in my apprenticeship and how much I hate the time I had to spend with her while also retaining a sense of gratitude for helping shape me into someone that can withstand some of the prickly goings-on of the industry. She wasn’t even my client, as I was merely apprenticing and therefore was little more than a ghost that shadowed one of the veterans of our company. I’m highlighting this now before diving into the thick of what was the worst week in my career thus far because it is extremely important to keep in mind that I was under no actual obligation to work with this woman.

Ahem, so, story time! Let me start off with first making it clear that even now I will only work with actresses and actors when I have no viable means of refusal. This is simply a preference of mine and stems mostly from this woman’s behaviors and treatments of me and some of the crew I worked with at the time. I was quite young when I entered my apprenticeship, like barely more than 20, and I was simultaneously accustomed and starstruck by the world I was entering. Before the apprenticeship, I had already been working off and on via temporary contracts and commissions as a MUA at the time, so I knew the ends and outs of the place and the people that worked my end of it. However, I hadn’t worked with many clients one on one as either a MUA or as an aspiring wardrobe stylist. Due to this I was still very green and awkward and hadn’t yet figured out the line between casual and professional (to this day, for me, this line is nearly nonexistent) and I tended to make a mess whenever I opened my mouth so mostly I kept quiet and melded into my role as an observing trainee with occasionally useful ideas but was mostly just an extra pair of hands. The stylist I was shadowing was, in a word, cumbersome. They weren’t a very great teacher and had a tendency to drop projects into my lap without much proper instruction or insight and would leave me to attempt making sense of what was wanted by means of vision boards and client portfolios. In much a similar fashion, when a scheduling conflict came up involving the actress which will star in this tale and another more major artist; naturally, he had to see to the client he had a more tangible contract with and stuck me with wrangling our golden girl.

Within the first 4 sentences of our first exchange as stylist and client I hated her immensely. She was the type of client I abhor to work with; overbearing and demanding, thankless and impatient. She was in the midst of her career finally catching some interest which is the most pivotal time in any celebrity’s career and I like to think she was so bitchy and just plain mean due to the stress and pressure she was under but it doesn’t make what happened any more justifiable. Her immediate and first words to me were, “You’re young and clueless enough to be my baby sister. Whatever authority you think you can have in dictating what I wear ended with the sound of the door opening when you stepped in, get that straight now.” I remember this extremely clearly because I went from gobsmacked to incensed within the time it takes to pop the top on a can of soda. But! I knew at least enough to know to keep my mouth shut and temper my immediate dislike of this person and tried to push forward and steer the conversation in the direction of what her ideal style and presentation should be. It went well enough for all of an hour tops before she domed me again by calling me “baby sis” in place of my name. As I am, in fact, the baby sis of my family I am well aware of when a power play is being maneuvered in on me and spotted this for what it was: her trying to remind me that I had no right to be speaking to her, let alone designing her. This was a culmination of her being upset and put out that she wasn’t chosen by my mentoring stylist and was stuck with someone that had basically no merits behind her.

Calling me this wasn’t really an issue for me, but it did chafe against my skin enough to make me feel uncomfortable and anxious. Still, I let it slide and she continued to call me as such for the duration of our time together. The true horror of this story is what comes next and the escalation from minor verbal insults meant to belittle me fanned into blatant sabotage. She and I had come to a sort of estranged agreement when it came to modeling her vision board - she wanted to retain some traces of her perceived sweet and demure self from when she was cast in her first role, but play up the maturity and grace she held now and have it reinvented into timeless class while holding a touch of being chic. It was a headache to make sense of since, from a the perspective of fashion and trends at that time, this wasn’t the ideal and even seemed counterintuitive to someone in her position and of her age. I went along with it and threw myself into the quest to pull from the brands she mentioned liking most and for days I learned firsthand how exhausting and tedious it is to make acquisitions and swear responsibilities/accountabilities one after the other and put my name and my company on the line. I handpicked every item and steadily managed to pull off forming my second ever ensemble of 4 sets of styles each with 2 or 3 substitution items that could alter the look entirely while still remaining within the realm of what the client had asked for. I worked upward of 13 hours for 4 days and when I finally was able to bring the client to her showroom and present my designs, I was only able to feel relieved for mere minutes before she began to yell and make a scene. She demanded my supervisor and the head of the styling department of our company both come to tend to her and see what a mockery I had made of her ideal image. She went on to use her acting quirks to insinuate that I had gone off half-cocked and overruled her every idea and word and then dared to present her with such low quality fashions. She even managed to produce a vision board that was entirely different from the one she and I had planned together! It was obviously done by herself and lacked the detailed attention any of the stylists housed in our company would have added, but it was convincing enough to appear damning.

At this point my head was in a weird place, trying to make sense of the perilous world I was throwing myself into and the fact that this was actually happening to me at all and wasn’t just me daydreaming while watching daytime dramas. After I worked through that initial shock, I was more than mad but less than enraged. I was confused as to why this client was being so purposefully obstinate and difficult for me, even briefly wondered what sort of grievance I could have possibly cost her when I had only just met her and had done my utmost to seem cool and pro like all the seasoned stylists I had worked with. I thought I was going to lose my job and have to go back to my family with my tail between my legs and tell them they were right and I never should have strayed from my original course and career path. I only became aware that I was crying, like big fat tears that made a mess of my face and were embarrassing to the point that I wanted to flee, because my supervisor had given me his handkerchief. It was at this point that I teetered and looked deeply at the person accusing me and wasting my time and efforts and realized that it wasn’t about me and was only ever about her. This moment of clarity, though, was like the opening of a gate I had been clinging to all week in hopes of keeping all my spurned senses quietly simmering beneath my skin rather than wreck my name and finish off my chances before they truly begun. I very rudely told my supervisor and the department head that if they needed proof of my hardwork and dedication to the vision of a thoughtless actress caught in the weeds of her own wilting fame then they were free to examine my copy of the original vision board and compare it with the one she had; that they could check through the 15 or so LORs under my name and in her stead (both names are featured for security means). Anyway, she was attempting to spill a stain across our company and specifically the stylist in charge of me for blowing her off. Her idea was that if I failed in a big way it would make him look like a horrible mentor and cost him some of his reputation. I was merely cannon fodder.

This got insanely long - let’s put it up to me also being a storyteller and writer as well as very passionate about this encounter. It sparked the timid embers of my uncertain pursuit of my career into a fire that has since gotten me through many other rounds of hard hitting clients and their excessive personalities and entitled arrogance. I love my job a lot, but man is this industry full of bullies.

#peekbackstage #style asks #style speak #anyway now i adamantly avoid working with the acting crowd and my life is a lot more simple

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sofancydancy · 4 years

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Immortal Jaskier drabble...

because I woke with this in my head and had to type it down--

Jaskier trailed after Geralt like the many other times before, plucking softly at his lute. His blue eyes focused on the back of his witcher’s snow-white head, trailing down his broad shoulders to the twin swords upon his armored back, then to the graceful stride of Roach. As always, he looked god-like and timeless. So much so that Jaskier felt his soul lurch. It always came with the thought, pinning him where he stood upon the earth, lost in memories and time. Once again leaving Jaskier pondering the lifespan of a witcher, and his own.

People always assume that immortality is a gift. Something to be desired—something…worth sacrificing anything to have. But, can you imagine it—truly? Eternity? There are few that legend has twisted into immortality. Men who became gods after great feats...those who were gods upon men. But, with god-hood and immortality alike, comes death.

Not your own, but those who you’ve ever loved. The people who bore you, friendship, loves, and even time becoming lost in a fog. The years fade in a rush, but you remain. Not the same, but adapting to the ever-changing world around you. The once god, turned relic. Forgotten, as the legends that bore them in gold and bright wings of starlight turn to ash and no one is left to remember them…sing for them.

So, no. Immortality is not a gift, but a curse. It’s a price paid when destiny decides that you fucked something up. Or, for whatever reason, time needs you to continue to flow. God-hood and glory are meant to make immortality a desire. To be forever as you are, evergreen in time. But, no matter how lovely, age does not simply stop, nor time.

Your mind collects it all, every moment past and present of grief, loss, love…All the bullshit that humanity glorifies in life. Then, in the end, it is only you standing there in a world that you don’t belong in—hadn’t in a long while.

That’s what immortality tasted like, from someone old enough to know he would never fade. It tasted of ash and ruin. It also fueled his reason to find out why. Why…him.

“Jaskier, don’t lag behind. If you can’t keep up, this is where we part ways.” Geralt stared back at his companion, silver brows knitted at the blank expression upon the bard’s face. The music had stopped a while ago, Geralt saying nothing until the bard’s boots no longer kicked up the ever dust-laced Rivian road.

Jaskier blinked up at him, his fingers twitching upon the strings of his lute. Their rough texture brought him back to the present, his blunt fingernails finding the fragile grain of the elven pine. Staring at someone liken to be a god of his own right, Jaskier sucked in a rattling breath between his teeth and smiled. He smiled as he had for many centuries, a face that screamed of youthful impishness. He strummed his lute with one hand rapidly, loudly. Geralt groaned at the sharp notes and urged Roach forward with a slight brush of his boot, Roach’s tail slapping Jaskier in the face as the bard skipped after him.

“You caught me day-dreaming, dear heart!” Jaskier sang brightly as he easily caught up with his possible god-ling. His cornflower blue eyes twinkled with times long past, and the hopeful hopelessness that came with his future.

Hmm, came the same elegant reply, and Jaskier hummed after him, his eyes locked on the long, winding, trail before them, no longer as lost as he was before when thinking of his…state of being.

He would continue as he always had—one step at a time. Only, something felt different this time. Walking next to the witcher, Jaskier felt time try and speak to him…Destiny twining legends together to whatever end. Jaskier only hoped that with Geralt’s own, his immortality could be explained.

#jaskier #the witcher drabble #immortal jaskier #geraskier #possible immortal geralt bc why not #immortal jaskier is amazing ok #my writing #i havent written in a while other than for school so yikes

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amandagaelic · 4 years

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Fanfic Tag (bc, Sunday)

I was tagged by @waitingforthestarstofall and @disappearinginq who are two of my favorite enablers over here. And according to at least one of them, there are no rules in this game, which means my replying many moons later is all good (right?).

Questions:

Ao3 Name: gaelicspirit (same on FF.net)

Fandoms: Supernatural, The Young Riders, White Collar, Hawaii Five-0, Sons of Anarchy (all only on FF.net), The Musketeers, Daredevil, Teen Wolf, Timeless, MacGyver, Magnum, P.I. (on both Ao3 and FF.net)

Number of fics: 75 (+ 1 WIP)

1. Fic you spent the most time on: From Yesterday

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Raincheck

3. Longest Fic: From Yesterday (286,050 words)

4. Shortest Fic: Sacrifice (2,315 words)

5. Most hits: Devil to Pay (on Ao3...no clue on FF.net)

6. Most kudos: Devil’s Own (huh, I’ve never compared these stats before...maybe I should write more Daredevil)

7. Most comment threads: Devil’s Own (on Ao3), Ramble On (on FF.net)

8. Fave Fic you wrote: This is a toughie. I love them all when I’m writing them...I think maybe it’s a 3-way tie between War Scars, From Yesterday, and Conairt. The first two were as AU as I generally get (I’ve a tendency to be a bit canon-bound) and that was fun to explore possibilities with those characters, and the 3rd was basically the story I wanted to read but couldn’t find anywhere...so I wrote it myself.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Hmmm. I don’t know that I’d actually rewrite any of them. They exist in my mind the moment they’re being created and then once out there in the world for all to see, that’s who they are, scars and all. I have occasionally thought about expanding on my White Collar story, Fortunate Son to explore what happened next. Though, now that the show has ended, it would be 100% AU. I guess anything I would really want to take further would be a new story in and of itself, so it wouldn’t really count as “expanding” on it.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

I started another MacGyver fic last weekend called “Hello to the Night.” I’m about 25K-ish words into it and still playing it out. It’s a bit of pandemic therapy for me, to be honest. It’s really hard to get out of my own head these days, it seems. Premise: Set around S4 episodes 9 and 10. Turns out emotional trauma + concussions + experimental drugs don’t mix quite as easily as one might think. Mac’s dark side does more than toss him a creepy grin from the other side of a window when getting “lost in his head” is taken up a notch.

Excerpt:

Another streak of light cut like a white-hot tracer bullet across the darkest part of the sky.

“You out here making wishes on shooting stars?” Bozer asked, tapping the back of his fingers into the palm of his opposite hand.

It caught his attention then that Mac was clad only in a T-shirt and shorts; it almost looked like they were the clothes he’d gone to sleep in, not grabbed for a planned midnight run.

“These aren’t stars,” Mac corrected him, his voice sounding strangely detached from the moment. “That light is caused by dust and rock falling through the atmosphere and burning up—happens when the Earth passes through a trail of debris left by a comet as it orbits the Sun.”

Bozer felt his mouth tug up in a reflexive grin. “Is that right?”

“My dad gave me my first telescope when I was eight,” Mac continued in the same, oddly modulated tone, as if he were speaking in a dream. “Showed me how to find the constellations, track comets. I took it apart one day and he wouldn’t help me put it back together again. Said I obviously needed to know how it worked, so I should figure it out.”

Bozer remembered that telescope. He remembered James MacGyver’s stern face as Mac worked to rebuild it from the collection of parts scattered around them in piles organized by size and use. He remembered fearing that face.

“I did, too. Figure it out.”

“Yeah, I know, man,” Bozer smiled, watching Mac watch the starts. He frowned a little when he saw a hard shiver chase its way through Mac’s slim frame, though the blond man didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s like they were mine, y’know?”

Bozer’s frown deepened. “What—”

“And for a little bit there, it felt like he gave them to me,” Mac continued as though Bozer hadn’t spoken. “Like the whole universe was mine because he let me see it. But…,” Mac shook his head, his eyes distant as they tracked down from the sky and skimmed the horizon in front of them. “Then he took them away. He took them with him when he left. And I can’t figure out how to get them back. I keep trying, but…they’re just…,” he looked back up at the night sky, “they’re so far away.”

Bozer reached out and rested his fingertips on Mac’s bare arm, flinching back a little when he felt how chilled his friend’s skin was. He couldn’t see it before, but with that touch he realized Mac was shivering consistently now.

“Hey, Mac, you okay, man?”

Mac blinked, looking down at Bozer’s fingers on his arm, then frowned. He glanced around him slowly, tracking over to his left until their eyes met.

“Bozer?”

“Yeah?”

“What…what are you doing here?”

Bozer blinked, his eyebrows climbing his forehead. He tightened his grip on Mac, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s forearm until he felt the other man’s shivers through the bones of his hand.

“I was looking for you,” Bozer said truthfully, trying to keep the worry from his voice as he watched Mac look around him, over his shoulder to where the Griffith’s domed building loomed in the shadows, then back across the dark horizon to the lights of Los Angeles. “You decide to go for a midnight run or something?”

Mac swallowed hard, reaching up with a trembling hand to rub at his forehead. Bozer recalled his tired voice claiming his headache had a headache earlier that day—no, last night—in the lab. He dropped his hand and looked around again and Bozer realized what he was seeing was a growing awareness and recognition—and it frightened him.

“What the hell are we doing out here?” Mac asked, his voice sounding thin, baffled.

“Mac,” Bozer gripped his arm tighter. “I found you out here.”

Mac looked at him, blue eyes cloudy with confusion. “What?”

“I found you, man.”

Mac darted his tongue out, wetting dry lips, his shivering increasing until Bozer saw his teeth start to chatter.

“I don’t…I don’t remember…,” he shook his head. “I don’t remember leaving the house.”

Bozer folded his lower lip against his teeth, biting it to keep whatever noise that wanted to escape a prisoner. “Well, how ‘bout we head back there now?”

Mac nodded shakily and moved to slide off the fence. Bozer saw in a split second the ground was too far below him for Mac to land safely. He thrust out his arm and braced his friend, swinging his leg back over the fence to the paved walkway and pulling Mac backwards with him. Mac scrambled to find his footing, standing on trembling legs as he gripped Bozer’s shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Mac took a stuttering breath as if he’d forgotten that was what his lungs were supposed to do, straightening slowly. “How the hell did I…?”

Bozer shook his head. “How about we don’t worry about that right now, huh?”

Mac nodded, his eyes still on the drop-off on the other side of the fence.

“C’mon, man,” Bozer turned Mac toward the parking lot, keeping one hand on his friend’s arm, the other on his lower back. “It’s late and I’m cold.” He wasn’t, but it was always easier to get Mac to act if he was doing so on behalf of someone else.

“Yeah,” Mac nodded. “Yeah, sure, of course. Boze, I’m—”

“Don’t,” Bozer pushed him gently forward. “Don’t worry about it, man. Yesterday was weird for everybody.”

“Yesterday?” Mac asked, the word tripping out on a faltering breath as his shivers increased.

Bozer pressed his fingertips harder into Mac’s lower back, feeling the corded muscles there tighten against the pressure. “Yeah, y’know…crazy DARPA drug, Tesla weapon….”

“That was yesterday?” Mac asked, blinking owlishly at him.

“Time flies when you’re trippin’, man.”

Mac didn’t reply and didn’t resist as Bozer continued to guide him toward the parking lot. He stumbled over his own feet—any coltish grace that once guided him having vacated in the wake of whatever this was. Bozer steadied him, noting that while Mac didn’t quite lean into him, he needed the support.

“Easy, man,” Bozer wrapped an arm around Mac’s slim waist, pulling him flush against his side. “You’re moving like me after a night of whiskey.”

“That…doesn’t sound good,” Mac returned in the same spacey, confused tone. “You make some pretty bad choices ‘cause of whiskey.”

As they reached the car, Bozer shifted his hip to keep Mac propped up, pulling the passenger door open and maneuvering his friend into the seat.

“Yeah, well,” he reached across Mac’s shivering form to fasten his seat belt, “in whiskey’s defense, I’ve also made some pretty questionable choices completely sober.”

Mac huffed a semi-amused chuckle, his head dropping back against the seat. Bozer jogged around the back of the car to climb behind the wheel.

“Let’s crank that heat up, how ‘bout—” Bozer stopped as he glanced over and saw Mac had quite literally passed out, head tilted against the window.

His hands lay lax in his lap, fingers curled toward his palms, the left one twitching in what looked like an attempt to reach out, but not quite getting there.

“Jesus, Mac,” Bozer breathed, turning up the heat anyway as his friend shivered even in his sleep. He shrugged out of his hoodie, draping it over Mac’s bare arms and t-shirt covered torso.

Tagging: Okay, if you’ve already been tagged--or literally have no interest in this--feel free to ignore. This is a bit of a free-for-all here. @thethistlegirl @impossiblepluto @flowing-river24 @panchostokes @nativestarwrites @beamirang @21forestglades @blazeofobscurity @angus-mac-intosh @purplecolouredglasses @writtenbyblair @dashboardonfire @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @macgyverfever @thekristen999

#fanfic #fanfic tag #macgyver #wip excerpt #writing #multiple fandoms #favorite stories #supernatural #sons of anarchy #h50 #the musketeers #magnum pi #timeless #daredevil #white collar #doing this instead of something else #not exactly hiding #but still kind of hiding

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sleepysera · 3 years

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4, 5, 6, and 8 if you don’t mind! also, i see you talk a lot about OCs but i only follow your poetry blog so is there a WIP that’s not a poem?

hi friend of course I don't mind thank you for the questions :D (Ask the Writer Game)

I have a lot of WIPs actually lol, I just don't work on them very much because life is a lot and I found that writing a steady stream of lil bits for @tinyblips helps to at least keep me sane by letting me throw out at least some creativity from my ever-flowing heart. ♡

I went hard with the answers (as always) so they're below lol

4. Where did you get your inspiration from?

I get my inspiration from a lot of places. I read a lot, and I spend a lot of time out in nature. I go out on the trails and walk on the beach, catching sunsets and sunrises as they come and go. A lot of my blips revolve around nature and fierce emotions, and that's just me processing a lot of life in general through metaphor.

My WIPs overall tend to be love stories lol, inspired by (oh here we go) a certain somebody who matters a lot to me. But they all share that common thread of simply me, trying to find the words to describe the indescribable: love and life, and what it means to be caught up in the webs of it all.

5. Where do you find your motivation?

I really do get a lot of motivation from being out in nature and/or exercising. My mind begins to wander and when I'm out at the tidal pools in the pale colors of dawn, it's hard not to become poetic about it. I'm usually pausing my walks and runs to type out lil thoughts or lines that pass through my mind into my phone. I have quite a lot of drafts because of this lol.

When my heart wants to speak, who am I to tell it to wait? When it wants to yell and shout in fury at the gentle waves of the ocean, who am I to try to dispel it? Daydream. Daydream relentlessly. But write it all down, furiously, tirelessly, relentlessly. The words your heart bleeds might help another, but most of all they might help you if you would only listen.

6. What would you say your strongest genre to write for is?

At this point, probably poetic romance haha. I've written lots of fantasy and sci-fi, yeah, but nothing compares to just letting my mind get lost in the turbulent waters of my heart. Even when I do write seriously, like fantasy, it all gets caught up again back into the romance. I'm obviously processing feelings regarding this theme continuously, and I've learned to just flow with it. There's power there when you can unleash your heart's full ferocity.

8. How many WIP do you currently have?

I think there are about 4.5 lol. I rarely talk about them on here (or ever really), but I guess I should maybe start, bc I love the writeblr community a lot actually.

There's one contemporary fiction type called Street Sketches. It follows different people on this street, starting off with a homeless man, and we go into his life and how he got there, and maybe it's true and maybe it isn't, but that's not entirely the point. In the cafe next to him there's a woman writing a news article, and we ponder her life, wondering what she's up to and how she finally made it as a reporter. She gets a call for a news alert and leaves, passing by a guy who... and so on. This one I know what it's all about/its structure etc, but it's also at that (seemingly eternal) stage of filling in the details.

There's another one that's full fantasy called The Phoenix Queen. The original tale is about a girl who climbs the mountain to confront the dragon that's terrorizing her village. She dies in the fight, but comes back a phoenix, and with her flimsy dagger and fierce will to live, rips out the dragon's heart and takes over the castle as the new queen over the land. This is basically just the preface lol. I have this story all mapped out to the end, but it's like Street Sketches, where I need to fill out all the details. The sequel to this has already started in my restless mind, and it follows her love, The Traveling King.

The third most developed is probably the one about my FBI agent lol. It started off as a dream, then it was a joke, until it finally ended up being an entire story. This one has an entire plot complete with spy double/triple crossings, full of all that drama and betrayal and redemption. This one is a little bit sci-fi, because the main protagonist is a bit of a cybernetic girl with modifications, but also both her and the FBI agent have lots of cool gadgets like shield bracelets and laser rings etc (the usual spy genre stuff haha).

The last one that I add to every so often more as an ongoing sci-fi romance series is The Time Traveler and The Immortal. It started as this prompt I saw on Tumblr a long time ago, and it morphed into this ever changing (and convenient) way to express an eternal love that can change in the way it looks, but never in the way that it feels. This is the one that shares the energy of my "A Love Letter Found Floating Through Space" series on TinyBlips. Lots of finding each other through different timelines and lifetimes and the quiet trust that is inherent in a timeless inexplicable kind of love like that. The only thing I know for sure is the ending, and that's kind of the point because, "Time isn't linear, my dear."

#postmoderncaricatures #thank u for giving me a chance to talk about my wips lol #i need to get my butt in gear and finally spend the time writing and developing these

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