#youre just a mentally ill woman every time you look in the mirror. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

runningfrom2am · 2 months

Text

cold nights // part twenty-six

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 7.3k (WOAH)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: sorry i made you guys wait so long for this omg!! i have been booked and busy this week but we are so back :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

It's your first day of university, and you don't know if you're more excited or terrified.

It was the beginning of the rest of your life, which is thrilling considering just two months ago you thought you had days left to live. At the same time, though, you knew no one here besides Coryo and Sej, and you didn't share a single class with either of them.

But, staying positive was a must. It would only be a few hours away from them, and you had planned to meet up for lunch with Coryo between your classes, since he had found some for you that started and ended at the same time as his. While you drape your scarf over your shoulders and tuck both ends around the belt at your waist, you smile to yourself. You take a last look in the mirror, to double-confirm that you like the look of the scarf worn that way over your white dress and when you're satisfied you grab your bag and leave your room. Of course, Tybalt is right on your heels.

Walking down the hall, you can hear their grandmother singing the national anthem in the other room, as she always does. You've never loved the anthem or what it stood for, but starting your morning hearing singing is nice nonetheless. Even if the woman who started her mornings with song had decided just to completely pretend you didn't exist, ignoring you at every turn. "Good morning!" You smile as you enter the dining room, Tigris and Coryo already sitting to eat.

"Morning." They both smile at you at the same time as you drop your bag down, sitting next to Coryo. "Are you excited?" Tigris asks as you reach for some apple slices. There are more fancy pastries spread out on the tray as well, but you'd much rather stick to fruit in the morning.

"I am." You grin, biting the slice in half. "A little nervous, though. I must admit."

"You don't need to be nervous." Coryo tells you, and his smile does relax you. But you know he doesn't understand. "I'll walk you to your classes, and I'll see you during our break. It'll be easy and you'll adjust very quickly."

"Aren't you nervous?" You ask, picking up your cup of tea and taking a sip. "It's your first day too."

"Not really." He shrugs, reaching up to mess with his hair. It had only been a few weeks since he cut it, but it was growing back rather quickly. "More excited."

"Oh, well, I'm excited for you too." You hum, taking another bite of your apple and smiling as he pats your leg under the table.

Pulling up to the campus after Coryo insisted that their driver take the two of you, you notice immediately that there were tons more people. Most were people around your age, which you expected. You wonder how many of them are Coryo's other friends, it would be nice to make more friends here. Just like the games. You find yourself thinking. "Safety in numbers", is what Coryo had told you. You needed allies here.

"There's a lot of people." You comment as the car comes to a stop, and Coryo gently squeezes you with the arm he has over your shoulder in the backseat, still shielded by the tinted windows.

"Yes, just stay close to me." He tells you, kissing your cheek. You nod and push the door open, thanking the driver quickly as you climb out with Coryo on your heels.

It's obvious to him almost immediately that you don't fit in. While there isn't a uniform like there was in the academy, he was still wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt- which seemed to be on par with the level of dress all the other students were donning. Mentally, he curses himself for not thinking of that. It didn't even cross his mind- all that did was that you looked beautiful. More done up than he'd ever seen you, and you don't look insecure about it, at least not immediately. Outside of what he can discern of just average nervousness as you seem to shrink in on yourself while you look out over as much of the campus as you can see.

"So, your class starts in twenty-five minutes. Usually, it's a good idea to get there early, that's what I've heard anyway." He tells you as he starts walking down the path toward the doors, and you follow quickly after him.

"How long does it take to get there?" You ask as you catch up, holding onto your bag over your shoulder.

"You tell me." He smirks, jutting out his elbow to gently nudge you. "I have you the tour, where are we going?"

"Oh." You laugh, looking around. "It looks a lot different now. Probably... ten minutes to get to the arts building?"

"About that, yeah." He nods. "In no time you won't need me anymore."

As you approach the entrance to the main building, it doesn't go unnoticed by him that you're being stared at. No doubt every other student here recognizes you, it would be jarring to see a tribute walking among them at school. Let alone be in a class with them. He wonders if they'd feel unsafe with you- he knows he would have without knowing you.

Not necessarily unsafe, considering even watching the games anyone could tell you wouldn't hurt a fly, but... uneasy, is a more accurate descriptor. It even begins to pool in his own stomach, growing more as you link your arm with his. They weren't just staring at you. They were staring at him, too.

"I'll always need you, I'm sure." You giggle, squeezing his arm.

He can practically hear all of their whispers now.

'Is that Coriolanus Snow? That District girl is all over him.'

'She's probably going to give him rabies or some other gross District plague. I won't be surprised if he starts a Monkey Pox outbreak.'

'I heard him and Sejanus Plinth went to District Twelve just for her. They probably came back half animal- no wonder he sees nothing wrong with this.'

Suddenly, he does. Your hold on him, while friendly, feels so sickeningly isolating. He pulls his arm from yours with the excuse of rolling up the sleeves of his shirt while he speaks to you. "Well, we may not always have aligning classes."

"That's true, I suppose." You agree. "An awful shame though, I'll miss being able to have lunch together."

He just hums in agreement, picking up his pace as you move through the halls and out the back exit to be able to access the art building.

"This is you." Coryo says as he stops outside the door to a lecture hall, looking inside briefly before turning his attention to you. There were a few students already inside, reading or organizing their notebooks.

"Oh, thank you." You smile at him. He didn't have much to say on the walk to your class, but you sum that up to him being in a hurry to get to his own. The art building was certainly out of his way, if you remember where all his classes were supposed to be.

"You're welcome." He says, making an effort to match your smile. He could only really focus on the stares you were getting from people walking past, making wide circles around you. You don't seem to notice as you look up at him. "I'll come back to get you after class, so just wait for me, okay?"

"I'll wait right here." You nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head against his chest. "I'll miss you, though."

You feel him tense up under you, and he awkwardly pats your back. You don't clue in until you hear gasps and whispering. You quickly take a step back, cheeks red.

Coryo chuckles nervously. "It's alright, uh..." He leans down to whisper to you. "They're just strict about that kind of stuff here. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." You reply, looking around and smiling apologetically at the few people still staring as they walk past.

"I should have told you, that's my fault." He admits, standing up straight before leaning down to talk to you again. "Good luck in your class. I love you, and I'll see you for lunch." He whispers and is satisfied when that brings your normal smile back.

"I love you too." You whisper back, and he grins, giving you a quick nod. "See you later."

You wave as he walks away, and you take a deep breath before walking into the lecture hall.

Now, you're presented with your second big problem of the day. Figuring out where to sit.

You scan the room quickly, deciding the easiest would be the front or second row. There were a few students already sitting down there, and one girl who was sitting alone. She had blonde hair, and red lipstick that you think would match Coryo's coat that he sometimes wears quite nicely. She looked nice.

You smile as you make your way over to the front row, sliding into the seat next to her. "Hi! My name is Y/N, what's-" You whisper, wanting to stay quiet in the already silent room and before you even finish your question she's shoving things in her bag and getting up. "Oh." You frown, looking around as she quickly moves to a different seat. The shuffle caused everyone who wasn't already looking to stare at you, so you just quickly turned to face the front.

You didn't mean to scare her off, you just thought she might want a friend if she was sitting alone, and you definitely wanted one. She didn't even look at you for more than a second.

You quietly pull the notebook Coryo had given you out of your bag, placing it on the table in front of you and looking up at the clock. There were still fifteen or so minutes until your class would start, so surely by then, someone would sit next to you.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. By the time the man you assumed was your professor entered, every other seat was taken besides the ones next to you. And behind you. There was this glaringly uncomfortable circle of emptiness surrounding you right at the front of the room. It was mildly embarrassing, but at least you didn't have to see everyone staring at you since almost everyone was behind you. But you still had the afternoon class, and the rest of the year to let people warm up to you. It would be okay.

"Okay, I hope everyone is here." Your gaze follows your professor as he shuts and locks the door. "If you're late, that's too bad. I expect everyone to be on time. This door will be locked at nine on the dot. For anyone who doesn't know me, my name is Dr. Nero."

You sit up straighter in your seat. He looks young, probably only ten or so years your senior with well-trimmed but present facial hair and a semi-casual suit. He must be relatively new to the position, and clearly, he took it very seriously.

"Alright, the department wants us to do icebreakers, so we'll get it over quickly. When I call your name on the attendance, tell us something about yourself and what your career goal is."

Shoot. You definitely didn't have any solid plans yet.

As he goes through the list, you wrack your brain for an answer. What did you want to do? Nothing specific. Maybe you'd write a book, maybe open a daycare back home where parents could leave their young ones with you by donation while they went to work. Maybe you'd be back at the library, but you really wanted to do something good with your education. You make a mental note to ask Coryo during lunch what kind of career you can have with a literature degree.

You look around, trying to remember as many names as you can as the other students answer.

"Teacher", "Artist", "Museum Curator", "Gamemaker".

Your eyes are still locked on the student who said that, a boy with dark hair and brown eyes. His name was Cancor Crane, if you remember what the professor had just called out correctly, and he was staring back at you. He was staring at you with such a vile expression that it looked like he wanted to gut you. A chill goes down your spine.

Then your name is called. You turn quickly, smiling nervously. "Hi..." You say, clearing your throat of the dryness that overtook it. "So, my name is Y/N... something about myself is that I have a cat, his name is Tybalt. Um, because my favourite book is Romeo and Juliet." You look around, then quickly back to your desk. "And I am not sure about my career, in all honesty. Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door." You shrug, smiling hopefully at him.

"Interesting." Your professor says, tilting his head at you and leaning back against his desk. "I expected your fact to be that you're a Victor."

"I- well, yes. I am." You reply nervously, twisting your pencil in between your fingers.

He hums. "Congratulations."

Congratulations on being the only one to walk away with your life.

"Thank you." You settle on, voice hardly more than a whisper.

"I've never taught a Victor before. This should be an interesting class for all of us."

You took as many notes as you could through the syllabus overview and first lecture. You were pretty pleased with yourself, everything looked organized and you felt prepared for the rest of the course- besides the textbooks that you needed to pick up. Another thing to ask Coryo about.

You don't see him at the door yet, after all, he had to walk all the way back from his class to yours and if he was let out at the same time he should be here in about ten minutes.

"Miss Y/L/N, do you mind staying for a moment?" Dr. Nero asks as the lecture hall steadily clears out. "I'd like to chat with you."

You quickly gather your things, making your way over to his desk at the front centre of the large room.

"Dr. Nero." You smile, bag tucked under your arm. "I really enjoyed today's class. I'm looking forward to the rest of the semester."

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything else, and you're left wondering what he wanted you to stay for. "I just need to get my textbooks, but I have the list that you gave us so I'll see if I can grab them this afternoon. I'll have them for Wednesday." You say, just wanting to fill the silence.

"Good." He nods, leaning back against his desk and tucking his hands into his pockets. "I watched your games. When they told me that you enrolled in my class, I was immediately intrigued."

"Oh." What are you supposed to say to that? He watched you at your literal worst, that doesn't make you feel very comfortable at all.

"In a good way, I assure you." He says, sensing your nerves. "I feel as though you know more about English literature than anyone in this city. Maybe even more than me."

"I wouldn't say that..." You chuckle nervously. "I just like reading."

"Yes. With an unprecedented level of comprehension for a District-born child."

You want to scowl and argue with him about how the opinions of the Capitol citizens are based on nothing but their own superiority complex fuelled by their win in one war that cost the lives of many, but instead, you just smile and nod. "Thank you, Sir."

"Although, tributes are not given much of a chance to prove that they are more than animals when they are treated as such from the moment they arrive until the moment they die, wouldn't you agree?"

You tilt your head at him. His motivations and opinions are suddenly unclear and confusing to you. "Yes... I-I would."

"Well, I hope to learn more about your experience while we get to know each other." He tells you. "Thank you for coming."

"Yes, thank you." You say quietly, looking toward the door. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Yes, good luck in the rest of your classes." He nods to you, and you take that as your dismissal and head to the door. You would just have to wait for Coryo in the hall.

You wouldn't have to wait long, considering he was already there, right where he had left you earlier.

"Hi!" You smile, waving at him but being mindful of keeping your distance.

"Hello." He grins, already starting down the hall as you join his side.

"How was your class?" You ask excitedly.

"Good." He shrugs. "What about yours? That's what I'm more concerned about."

"It was good!" You smile. "I mean, I tried to talk to people but everyone was pretty quiet. And the Professor was nice. I think. He seemed fascinated by the fact that I'm a 'Victor'." You accentuate your point with finger quotations, bouncing between looking up at him beside you and ahead of you to make sure you don't walk into anyone. They seem to be keeping their distance, though.

"Of course he is." Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. "But that's what we want. He may favour you, so go along with it."

"Oh, okay."

Tigris was nice enough to pack you both lunch for the day, yours consisting mainly of fruit. Something you have noticed over the last couple of weeks you've been here is that some of the food scares you- which is something you never thought of. If you can't somewhat accurately identify what it is just by looking at it, you're tempted to steer clear. Coryo insists you'll "get used to it", something he tells you daily about a wide variety of things, but Tigris doesn't mind packing you fruit for lunch or meals you don't help prepare yourself, which you appreciate.

Even for a September day, the sun is beaming down on the courtyard so you decided to eat outside. After all, Coryo says the weather won't be this nice all winter. You rarely got snow in Twelve, so you were excited for the holidays. Secretly, you hoped you could go home for Christmas.

"It's a beautiful day today." You comment, taking a bite of the fresh strawberry you pulled from your lunch container. The strawberries here were something that shocked you as well- they were bigger than the homegrown ones back home. Not nearly as sweet, though.

"It is." Coryo nods, leaning back on his palms in the grass. "Do you like it here so far?" He asks, squinting from the sun as he looks over at you.

"I mean, I've only had one class as you know, but so far it's great." You grin. "I'm excited to actually dive into the readings and such."

"I mean, like, in general." He chuckles. "Also, I have never heard anyone ever say they were excited about homework."

"A precious, mouldering pleasure it is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think." You shrug, smiling at him as you place the rest of the strawberry on your tongue.

Coryo scrunches up his nose in disgust while you chew. "You eat the leaves?"

Quickly, you're covering your mouth with your hand to speak. "You don't?" You ask, voice slightly muffled with the slightly sour fruit on your tongue.

"No!" He laughs, shaking his head.

You swallow what remains of the strawberry in your mouth, preparing to defend yourself when you hear someone call his name. You both turn, and your eyes land on a girl with long, dark hair as she walks toward you. With the shoes she's wearing, she only slightly struggles on the grass.

"Clemmie." He smiles, quickly standing up. You follow suit, brushing the stray blades of grass off of your legs and dress while he gives her a hug. A hug? That must be allowed outdoors. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Yeah, well, they let me out of my cage for the occasion." She replies sarcastically. She must be hot, wearing a white turtle neck in this heat. Then she looks at you, lifting up her dark sunglasses and resting them in her hair.

She has the eyes of a snake.

You're in shock for a moment, but you quickly recover. "Hello, my name is Y/N. Are you a friend of Coryo's?" You ask, extending your hand to shake. You were just happy to possibly be making friends.

She doesn't take it, something you're used to by now. "Yes, we've known each other our whole lives." She answers, looking down at your hand as you slowly lower it back to your side.

"Y/N, this is Clemensia Dovecote." Coryo says, deciding to introduce you properly, since his classmate didn't want to oblige. "She was a mentor as well."

"Oh, congratulations." You grin, biting back the sickness you felt suddenly bubbling in your stomach. "From what I have heard, even being selected for the opportunity is a large accomplishment. You must be proud."

"Yeah, well, I'd certainly be happier if my tribute won." She shrugs.

"Clemmie-" Coryo hisses at her, and she looks momentarily horrified at her own statement.

You look down, nodding slightly with a nervous smile. "It's okay." You insist, laughing slightly and pretending to readjust your scarf and tighten it around the belt.

"I didn't... Not like that. I'm sorry." She apologizes quickly after Coryo had jumped to your defense.

"No, it's alright. I understand." You tell her again, attempting a reassuring smile. "Would... would you like to eat lunch with us?"

"I have to get going, actually." Clemensia replies, looking between the two of you. "I was just on my way to my next class and thought I'd stop to say hi. It was nice to meet you, Y/N."

"You too." You grin, and she nods at you before walking away.

Your eyes stay trained on her as she crosses the courtyard, and Coryo is once again close enough to speak to you quietly so no one else would hear. "I'm so sorry, she didn't mean it like that."

"No, I know." You insist again, already sitting back down. "It's okay." You smile up at him, patting the patch of grass next to you so he would join you.

"She was supposed to be Reaper's mentor." He tells you as he rejoins you on the ground. "But... something happened before the games. She couldn't participate."

"Oh."

He moves closer. "Do you remember that day we went to tour the arena?" He asks and you nod. "And I was late, and you asked me what was wrong, and I told you nothing?"

You do remember that, and you never got answers, but you remember being worried it was your fault. You almost kissed him the night before, and you had made things weird when he just came to do something nice for you; bringing you a book and some birthday cake. You felt horrible. "Yes, I thought I had done something."

"You? No." He quickly shakes his head. "We had to write a proposal for Dr. Gaul, the head gamemaker, about things that could be done to "improve" the games. Like the bets, donations, sending food, and when we were speaking with her Clemmie got bit by one of the snakes."

You gasp, covering your mouth. He looks around, making sure no one is paying attention. Yes, people were staring, but no one would get close enough to be able to overhear.

"I thought she was dead, but they sent me straight to the arena to meet you." He explains. "And like she said, we've been friends forever so I was... quite upset."

"That's horrible." You frown, resisting the urge to reach for his hand as it sits on his lap next to you.

"Yeah." He agrees quietly. "But I saw her in the hospital after the bombing, she was alive but... different. Crazy."

"Her eyes?" You ask and he nods.

"And she was hallucinating, they wouldn't let anyone see her except me because I was there. She was angry with me because I didn't visit her enough."

"Survivors guilt." You smile sympathetically. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

"That's why she's wearing that shirt." He whispers, nodding to her just as she enters the building ahead of you. "She's got scales."

You cringe at the mere idea of it.

"I know." He laughs slightly. He doesn't look away from his hands in his lap, and while you can see he's smiling and laughing, it's doing little to convince you that he isn't upset. "It was kind of my fault, though."

There it is.

"No, most certainly not." You frown. You just want to hold his hand, surely you won't be caught if you do. You were outside, just for a moment isn't likely to get you in trouble. Especially if he was just hugging Clemensia. "Why do you say that?" You ask, settling instead for resting a hand on his arm.

"I... It's difficult to explain." He tells you, and you say nothing, willing him to continue. "So, our proposal was in the tank. Dr. Gaul told us if the snakes knew your scent, they wouldn't bite. But I wrote the paper, not her, and she made Clemmie reach into their tank and pull it out."

"That's not your fault." You tell him, gently squeezing his forearm.

"I should have stopped her. She would have hated me for telling them she didn't help write it, but none of that would have happened."

"Well, she's okay, isn't she?" You smile hopefully.

"Yes, but she just as easily could have died." He insists. "The only thing that makes me feel slightly better about it is that in a way, she saved you."

You cock your head at him, mouth falling open in astonishment. "I... what?"

He looks up from his lap to check your surroundings again.

"I put the letter you wrote to me into the tank." He whispers, and you have to lean in to hear it. "Because I knew if they knew your scent they wouldn't hurt you."

"You... never told me that." You state the obvious, retreating your hand back into your own lap. Part of you wishes he hadn't done that. They didn't quite catch you getting up into the rafters, his warning had been enough, but you should have walked to your death the following morning when you climbed down and found the note in the first place.

"I just... I don't know, I thought it would be worth more if it stayed a secret. I didn't want you to feel... indebted to me, or something." He admits. "But I'm still trying that thing where I tell you everything I'm thinking. Especially about this stuff."

You nod, putting your focus on picking pieces of grass at your side. "Thank you."

"Please don't thank me." He frowns. "I told you. I had to. I knew I loved you even then, Y/N/N."

You give your head a quick shake, already sensing the spiral it was about to fall down. "Let's not speak about this here." You mumble. "Please."

Immediately, Coryo understands. "Of course." He watches you run your fingers through the grass slowly, and realizes quickly that you are counting them. Now was not the time or place for another attack, and he felt foolish for even bringing the topic of the games up. "What books do you need?" He asks, hoping to get you in better spirits. "Anything that looks good? You said you were excited for the readings."

Your lunch doesn't feel like it lasts long enough, even though you had an hour and a half between your classes. Once you got to talking about your books, the time seemed to fly by and Coryo agreed to take you to the bookstore on campus the following afternoon so you could get all your books at once. He had a few to get as well.

He walked you to your next class, a few floors up in the same building and this time you were mindful to not hug him goodbye. He told you he loved you, very quietly, and you said you loved him too before entering the room. Another lecture hall, slightly smaller than the last one.

You mentally prepare yourself to play this game again. Where to sit, and preferably, finding someone willing to sit next to you. Looking around, you see a couple of girls in the middle of the room chatting away. They looked nice enough.

Preparing your smile as you walk up, you slide into the seat next to them. "Hi there, my name is Y/N." You grin, keeping your voice low. You really didn't want to scare them off. "Can I sit here?"

They look at each other with an expression unreadable to you, before one of them nods. "Yeah, we can't see why not."

"Oh, thank you!" You say excitedly, pulling your bag up onto the desk to grab your other notebook out of it.

"You're the Victor." The other girl comments, and you realize they're both staring at you still.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, nodding. "Mhm."

"So... why are you here?" The girl closest to you with a brunette ponytail asks.

"Oh, well, Coriolanus, he was my mentor, he came to visit me back home and convinced me to come study here." You explain. "I want to have a career. Help my family."

"Oh, we know him." She says, and they look at each other again, chests shaking with laughter they're attempting to conceal.

"You do?" You smile. You knew starting with his friends was a good idea, this is just a happy coincidence that you had decided to sit next to two of them already.

"Yeah, we went to the academy with him." The girl's friend explains. You notice then that they have a very similar hair colour, but hers is cut short and curled just above her shoulders. "He always had such a stick up his ass. Took everything way too seriously."

"That's what my brother said, too." You giggle. You weren't sure if they were being genuinely mean or not, but you decided to air on the side of caution. You wanted friends. "But he is truly lovely. Do you know him well?"

"You could say that." One of them answers vaguely and you just smile, tucking your bag back under the table. "Your bag is... interesting. Where did you get it?"

"Oh!" You say excitedly, lifting it back onto the table. "My Ma made it for me. Isn't it pretty?"

They laugh, and your smile fades. You thought it was very nice, made from pieces of scrapped linens that she had used in other projects, stitched together into a pattern that made up your shoulder bag. It was perfect for carrying your notebooks and pencils, you had brought it to school back home all your life.

"It's... something else." The girl with the short hair nods.

"Does your Ma hate you? That's so sad." The other girl pouts, resting her chin on her hand.

You quickly hide the bag away again at your feet. "No, of course she doesn't." You weren't sure what to say. Why were they being mean? They had been nice to you a moment ago.

"Did she make your dress, too?"

You just nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"Wow, yeah, I could tell." You look down at the words, unsure as to what she could see that could be wrong with it. This was one of your favourites.

Admittedly, it was a little short on you, similar in style and colour to the one you had worn to the Capitol the first time you came. But now, looking at what she was wearing and her friend, both with button-up shirts similar to Coryo's and different coloured blazers with a matching skirt, you realize that your attire is very different. Different vastly from everyone in the room as well, as more students are trickling in.

You didn't think it mattered until now.

You don't get the chance to come up with anything in defense of your dress before she reaches out and grabs at the material of your scarf, rubbing it between her fingers. "This is the scarf you had with you in the games. It doesn't look like your mother made it, though. This is mulberry silk."

You jump a little at the unexpected contact, and they laugh. "Uhm, no, she didn't." You clear your throat. "It's a family heirloom. I'm not sure where it came from." Not entirely a lie, it just wasn't your family heirloom.

"Neat. So, where are you staying?" She asks after a moment.

"With Coriolanus and his family. They've been very kind to me." You smile. Their eyes go wide and they look at each other again.

"You mean, on the Corso?"

"Yes, that's what he told me it's called."

"Wow, you really made yourself comfortable here, huh?"

"Well," You laugh slightly. "It's been an interesting transition, but he's made it much easier. He helps as much as he can."

Simultaneously they pick up on the pink flush of your cheeks as you remember the amount of times he's come running when you had a nightmare, only to bring you water and back to his bed to sleep after. Weirdly enough, he made you feel safer now.

"Oh my god." The girl with the bob laughs. "You like him, don't you?"

"Of course I do. He's my friend." You smile, a little confused. That only makes them laugh more, and you pick up on what they were implying. Quickly, you turn even more pink in the face. "Well, I mean, um..."

"Y/N." You turn your head at the mention of your name, looking up at the girl now standing in front of you. She was smiling, and immediately seemed to have a kinder spirit than the girls you were already sitting with. "Come sit with me, Coryo asked me to save you a seat."

"Oh, okay." You nod, grabbing your things again and standing. You were eager now to get away from those other girls.

"Lysistrata, come on. We were just talking to our new friend." The girl with the ponytail pouts, and you look back at Coryo's friend. She just stares at them, something akin to a warning in her expression.

"Where do you want to sit?" You ask her, still recovering from their mildly embarrassing comment as you stand up.

She just nods toward one of the upper rows and starts walking. "It was nice to meet you." You smile at the girls nervously before following behind her.

"Oh, and Twelve?" You stop and turn when the girl with the ponytail speaks up again. "Good luck with Coriolanus, though I hate to tell you I have a head start. We're actually engaged. But like I said, good luck!"

You feel your face pale and you just nod, quickly turning away and focusing your gaze on the long dark braids belonging to the girl leading you up the stairs.

Your mind is absolutely reeling as you follow her to some seats near the back. You didn't know he was engaged. Honestly, you thought you were kind of his girlfriend. He told you he loved you not ten minutes ago, for god's sake! But maybe it had meant something different to him all along. Was this something they did in the Capitol? Because back home if you kissed someone that meant they were your one and only, but maybe that was very different here. So many things are very different here.

"They aren't engaged. Don't listen to her." Coryo's friend, Lysistrata you think her name was, says as you sit down.

You look over at her. "They aren't?"

"No." She scoffs. "Livia just thinks they're getting married because her daddy wants them to. They hardly ever even talk."

"Oh." You reply quietly, looking down the rows at the girls you were just with. That does ease your panic. "Not... not that it matters to me."

"It's okay." She smiles kindly at you. "To be honest, he hates her." She whispers. "I think you've got a much better chance. He speaks very highly of you."

You blush, smiling back at her. "I don't believe we've met properly. My name is Y/N."

"Nice to meet you." She smiles, and for the first time today, it feels genuine. "I'm Lyssie."

"Did you go to the academy too?" You ask for the sake of making conversation. She seems lovely, and you're excited at the idea of actually having a friend in one of your classes.

"I did." She smiles. "I was Jessup's mentor. Coryo and I worked a lot together during the games."

You chew on your lip, nodding slightly.

Today was just full of draining conversations.

"I'm sorry." She adds quietly. "You all deserved better."

"I'm sorry I didn't stay with him." You whisper. "I regret it every day."

"Don't. You did what you had to do, no one holds anything against you. I think you did the right thing."

You just nod, opening your notebook. You have to hope that once you get all these impossible conversations out of the way and people know you better, you'll have other things to talk about. And maybe one day, the topic won't make you want to cry, throw up, and jump off the nearest building all at once.

"He was one of the best of us. He should have won." You say quietly.

"Don't say that." She smiles sadly at you. "I'm glad it was you if it couldn't be him, and he was very sick. He wouldn't have made it much longer anyway."

"I had to go home and see his family." You felt comfortable talking to her, like she wouldn't judge you. It was a relaxing feeling. "My heart breaks for them, they're good people. And they needed him."

"You know his family?" She asks.

"Not really. We've crossed paths here and there, my Ma helps them on occasion with fixing their clothes." You shrug. "Still, though. From what I know, they try to stay in life. Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends."

"Would you happen to know their address? I would love to write to them. To apologize, that is." She explains and you smile, nodding before scribbling it down in your notebook and ripping out the page to hand to her.

"Thank you."

Another two hours, another "icebreaker", and more stares. You hoped that your classmates would eventually get tired of staring at you, you imagined it would make it quite difficult to take notes or pay attention to the lecture.

You felt almost guilty about it. Coryo didn't tell you that everyone would be so shocked but you shouldn't be surprised. Looking down at your clothes and the scarf that had almost entirely been cleaned of the blood stains it carried back to Twelve, you thought maybe it could have something to do with how you dress. Obviously, it would be distracting if you stood out so much, so maybe fitting in would be better. As much as you love your handmade clothes, maybe they would have to be reserved for time spent at the apartment or on rare days out.

Coryo is waiting outside since he got let out a few minutes early. There was no use in starting a lecture when going over the syllabus took a full hour and a half. When students start pouring out of your room, he looks at everyone waiting to see your smiling face. Well, hoping to see you smiling.

Lysistrata walks out first, and with no sign of you with her he grabs her arm to catch her before she turns the other way.

"Thank you for doing that." He says, smiling sympathetically at her.

"Of course." She grins. "She's lovely, we talked for a bit before class."

"Yeah, she is. Anyway, thanks." He nods at her, dropping her arm and with a kind nod, she's back on her way.

He counts his blessings that he had run into her after leaving you for that class a few hours earlier.

"Hey, Lyssie." He grins, stopping her in the hall as she was on the way to class.

"Coryo. How are you?" She smiles and he shrugs.

"I'm alright." He replies quickly. "What class are you going to?"

"Uh..." She looks briefly at her notes. "Geography. B217."

He sighs in relief, and she looks at him confused and lets him pull her to the side of the hall. "That's Y/N's class, would you mind sitting with her? She told me that this morning that no one would and I know she just really wants to make some friends... Could you do that for me?"

"Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N, your tribute?" Her eyes go wide and he nods. She didn't pay any attention to gossip and focussed more on getting from one class to another. She didn't even know that you were here.

He chews on his cheek while he waits for her to respond. If anyone was willing to make that social sacrifice, it would be Lyssie. School was never a popularity contest to her.

"Of course I can. Yeah."

When you walk out not long after her, he's quickly joining your side. Earlier, he felt so uneasy having you all over him with people watching and by now he just missed you. If he didn't know better, he would have decided he didn't care- but he has to.

"How was it?" He asks and you smile, as per usual, but he notes that now you have untucked your scarf and are instead using it to drape back over your shoulders and around your arms and back.

"It was delightful." You say happily, following his steps along the hall. "And yours?"

"Delightful?" He asks, smile tugging at his lips. He can't help it. "That wouldn't be a word I would use, but I would say it was okay."

"Okay is better than awful." You shrug.

"Certainly is." He agrees, leaning down to speak quietly into your ear in the loud hallway. "Missed my girl, though."

"Is that me?" You ask, allowing him to open the door to the building for you.

"Of course it's you." He chuckles as you pass him. "What do you mean?"

You laugh. "Well, I met a girl named Livia in my class and she told me that the two of you were engaged."

Coryo groans, letting the door fall shut as he follows behind you. "No, ew. She's... no. Absolutely not. Maybe if I planned on marrying someone I absolutely despise, then she would be the perfect candidate."

"But that's not what you look for in a woman?" You ask, turning to walk backward in front of him.

"Nope."

"I'll take your word for it." You giggle, seemingly nonchalant about Livia's apparently blatant attempts to scare you away. Coryo wouldn't let that happen, and he's glad you didn't see it that way.

He smiles at you as he rejoins your side.

"Coryo." You say, breaking up the peaceful quiet of your walk home. He looks at you. "I think I shall look for a job."

"A job?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. "You don't need a job, we talked about this. Just focus on school."

"No, I know." You say quietly. "But I think I would just like some spending money, perhaps get some new clothes. Wouldn't that be nice?"

His heart sinks unexpectedly. As much as he would love to see you blending in more and embracing the culture that came with living in the Capitol, it didn't feel like that would really suit you. If he wanted a Capitol girl, he could have had one. Apparently, that's not what he wanted anymore, but the more you blended in and became "one of them" like he promised Dr. Gaul you would, the more likely people would be to accept the extent of your relationship. However undefined it may still be.

"If that's what you would like, but you don't have to work for that." He shakes his head. "I told you I would take you to the mall, the one with the ice cream shop. Maybe we can go on Friday." Friday was the first day of your weekend- the one day during the week that neither of you had any classes.

"That would be fun." You smile up at him. "I'll just have a look around, see what people are wearing. Get a better idea of what to save for."

"If that's what you want, love."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie, @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

158 notes · View notes

emlovslennon · 3 months

Note

omgg last night I dreamed about supeeer cute soft dom george being very affectionate and giving making love to reader making her forget all her insecurities whispering in her ear a lot of worship, it's my first request and don't speak English very well but I'm here hehe love ya!

GUYS IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK BALLS !!! Anyway HEHEHHEHE evil laughter back to my mischievousness (mental illness). Also I LOVE YOU TOO

Era: 1965 cuz i feel like it

Audible moan.

You had been feeling extremely insecure ever since you got back from the opening of the the Beatles new movie, “Help!” You saw how in the newspapers they were saying incredibly cruel things about you, especially about how tight your black dress was when you wore it to the premiere. It was, “Name the Beatles wife with the worst taste?” Or “That dress certainly doesn’t look flattering on her!” Like it was some joke. You felt tears brim your eyes just thinking about it. You’d constantly look in the mirror and pinch at your stomach and thighs, you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t be as beautiful as Jane or Maureen or Cynthia.

“Love, I’m back! Love? What’s wrong?” George said, he had just gotten back from a meeting about an upcoming album, so he unfortunately couldn’t take you along since it was a private meeting, not a public one. You were laying on your shared bed crying, with a newspaper at your side. The one that completely wrecked your self esteem. George caught on and picked up, in complete anger, he ripped the newspaper up and threw it in the trash.

“Absolute bloody rubbish! I hate those damn newspapers, y/n, come ‘ere love.” He said, quite angry, but gentle once he called your name. He couldn’t believe someone could say that about his wife. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. How could anyone not agree? They must be blind.

“Love, don’t listen to those bloody bastards, you are the most beautiful and lovely woman I ever laid eyes and have ever met. If they don’t believe that, then they must not have eyes.” He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. Your tears at this point subsided and you looked up at him, he gave you a grin and kissed your forehead. You know this probably wasn’t the best timing, but you just couldn’t resist when he looks at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

“George, could you maybe show me how beautiful I am?” You say quietly, George winks at you in a joking manner and wiggles his eyebrows which make you giggle. George slowly positioned you to get you to lay on your back while he slowly got on top of you.

“I mean it when I say you look stunning in anything.” He whispers, playing with the hem of your black night gown, it was short and only went down to almost the end of your inner thighs. He looked at you for permission and you nodded, as he slowly lifted up your night gown, leaving completely exposed. You usually didn’t bother with under garments when you were going to sleep, you just didn’t feel the need for it.

“You amaze me every time, y’know that?” He praised, as his hands went to your breasts as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless. George lifted himself up to take off his black long sleeve shirt and the pair of black pants he wore with it, as he went back down to kiss your neck, he hand slowly wandered down to your core, lightly rubbing causing you to whimper. George grinned at the sound, George loved nothing more than when you made noises for him, he doesn’t even really care when it comes to him getting off it’s just as long as you do he’s good.

“Can I?” He asks, his fingers nearing and circling your hole, you nod frantically as he giggles at your reaction, he slowly inserts two fingers into you. You bite your lip and throw your head back into the pillows with the intrusion. But you couldn’t lie, his fingers do wonders. He slowly thrusts them in and out as he watches you whimper and moan, he usually never goes fast unless you tell him to, he’s just never really been that kind of person. Whereas someone like John is the complete opposite.

“F-faster, George!” You moan out, causing George to kiss and suck on your neck harder than he did before as he went faster, your juices starting to seep down to the sheets as the noises coming from your core begin to echo through out the room. You felt the tightness and heat in your belly about to burst and you knew that only meant one thing.

“George-I’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you felt as if you were sitting stars as your orgasm hit. George never wanted to admit it, but he absolutely adored when you orgasm your a shaking and moaning mess for him, you look absolutely wrecked just from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Do you need a minute?” He asks, one thing to note about George, is that he is huge on consent, he would never, ever, do something that you didn’t like or something that he thought could hurt you. It would break him into a million pieces if that happened.

“Yes, please!” You say shakily, George nods as he kissed your forehead, slowly lining himself up and entering you.

“You’re always so good for me, always. No one could ever compare.” He whispers lovingly, kissing your earlobe as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Your noises are to die for, you are to die for, i can’t get enough of you.” George loved praising you during sex, he always took pride in doing so.

“G-George, please.” You whisper, George looks up at you, with a questioning face.

“Please, faster! Please!” You moaned out, George gave you a smile and kissed your cheek as he went faster, but not too fast, just slightly faster than the pace he was going. You moan out as he brings his fingers down to your clit and rubs circles round it, making your legs shake. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and creeping up on you like it was the grim reaper.

“George! Im gonna cum, please!” You cried out, all the worry, sadness, and insecurities you were experiencing early had completely disappeared. They were nowhere to be found. George always managed to make your worries and fears go away, it’s like he was magic. But to be fair, he pretty much was.

“Aw, come on pretty girl, cum on me, go on.” George groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him, and before you know it, it wasn’t before too long both of you came together. You were shaking and moaning for quite a bit even after he pulled out and kissed your face all over. George laid on his side and brought the covers over both of you.

“Did that make you feel any better?” George asked, his hand holding yours, you look up at him with a smile.

“What was I upset about again?”

THIS WAS KINDA CHEESY BUT WOOOOAH I LOVED IT

#classic rock #classic rock imagines #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #the beatles #the beatles x reader #60s #george harrison x reader #george harrison smut

85 notes · View notes

carcarcraziiv2 · 4 months

Text

The Woman with the Pink Hair (P. 4, 5, 6)

Here is a continuation of the Woman with the Pink Hair!

This is a Vi x Fem! Reader fanfiction.

I will post this gradually, maybe once or twice a week until it is fully out! (If you are impatient, you can view it on my Wattpad-> @DatBishCar)

Please note that this is the first piece I wrote after a HEFTY (I mean years long) hiatus from writing.

P.S. Lowkey I KNOW there's a bunch of shit I could fix in here to make it better due to my practice over the past year or so, but I just... I'm so lazy rn LOL. Anyhoooooo....

ALSO- here are the TW for you lovelies! (This is for the WHOLE SERIES)-

Violence, mental illness, oral sex, dominant tendencies, torture, kidnapping, plotting?... lowkey there's probably more but you should get the gist here, AS ALWAYS ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ILY<3

READ PART ONE, TWO, AND THREE HERE-> https://www.tumblr.com/carcarcraziiv2/737189248110821376/the-woman-with-the-pink-hair-p-1-2-3?source=share

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

PART FOUR: An Artist's Eye

The next day has arrived. You shoot up from bed in the morning, as you hadn't set an alarm and you were worried you may have missed Vi coming over. You looked at your clock and it read 10:30. The streetlight was shining through the window of your room, as there was no sunlight down in the under city, and you could see the dust floating about from you jerking out of bed. You rubbed your head slightly, feeling a little hungover from the previous night's expenditures, but not too bad.

Letting your hand caress from your hair down to your lips, you brushed over them. Remember the sweet kisses that lingered there. TWICE. Two times Vi had kissed you. You swooned and fell backward into your previous position, moving your hand from your lips, down your chest and stomach. You reached your waistline, feeling heat in your cheeks as you thought about Vi, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

You jerked out of your moment, flustered. "One second!" You called out, hopping off the bed and stumbling as you grabbed your pants off of the floor and threw them on. You ran to the door, peaking out of the peephole to see dark pink hair and those blue eyes looking right back at you. Unlocking the door and opening it quickly, the girl stepped back for a moment before smiling.

"Well, good morning sweet stuff." Vi giggled. "Did I wake you?"

"Good morning! No actually I just woke up before you knocked... why?" You smiled back, moving out of the way and motioning for her to come in. As she walked in, she looked over at you and made a signal about her hair. It took you a moment, and you realized what she meant. You probably had a rat's nest on top of your head. Blushing, you rushed over to the mirror by your vanity and grabbed your hair tools. "Well, I mean I really just woke up before you knocked" you laughed shyly. You tossed your hair into your signature style, an easy go to do that you rocked nearly every day. Turning back around, you find the woman sitting on a chair that sat next to your art easel. You snagged a small stool you had under your vanity and pulled it over near her and sat as well.

"So," you started "Do you want to see my stuff?" pointing at your boxes near the easel.

Vi smirked. "Do I want to see your stuff? I guess you could say that." Her eyes drifted from your toes up to your eyes, caressing your body with their movement. "You could say that."

You rolled your eyes, understanding her innuendo and shook your head slightly. "Idiot, you know what I meant." You slapped her shoulder. Getting up, you waltzed over to where the box sat on the floor beside it. Opening the box, you pulled out a large black sketchbook, as well as some canvases. You had just placed the black sketchbook in the box after finishing the last piece a few days prior.

You turned the canvases over and showed her them one by one. She oo'd and ahh'd at them as you went through. You painted many different things, such as landscapes, mystical creatures, and people. A lot of times, your art revolved around the places that you had been to in the past. About finished showing the canvases, Vi pointed down to the black sketchbook on the floor beside you.

"What's in there?" She questioned, leaning over and grabbing it for herself. You almost instinctively snagged it out of her hands but decided that you didn't mind if she looked. To your horror, she turned to the back page almost immediately, rather than starting from the front.

"Whoa..." Vi stated, tilting her head slightly as if to get a better look. You knew exactly the page she had turned to. It was a scene you did the day after the first time you "met" her, A.K.A the time you saw her beat up 3 grown men.

You had used pastels and recreated the scene as you remembered it, from your perspective. You made the men look weak and made Vi look strong. Light shown down directly onto her from a streetlamp above and made her look like an angel, almost. Vi looked from the paper, and up at you. Your eyes were wide.

"Uhh," You muttered, "I drew that before we met properly..."

"This is...." She paused, and your heart stopped. "Amazing!" You instantly sighed with relief, letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"I'm glad you like it," You smiled victoriously, placing your fists at your waist.

You got up and walked over to the small shelf near your bed. Living in a studio apartment, all of your things were kind of everywhere, but you did not mind. "This," you said picking up a clean looking book, "Is my new sketchbook. would you like to see what I drew last night?"

Vi looked shocked, admittedly probably due to the fact that you were quite inebriated last night, and she didn't think you would have drawn anything other than a bath after getting home. Regardless, she nodded. You walked over to her and opened the very first page of the sketchbook.

"It's not quite done, but here it is," handing the book over to here, you smiled slightly while blushing. The picture below was of Vi, from your point of view sitting at the bar you had gone to the night prior. You had paid close attention to all of the details of her appearance, already planning on drawing her while you were there. It was mainly her side profile but caught certain parts that you found wonderful and interesting like her VI tattoo and the gear on the side of her neck. You even remembered the hoop earrings that sat on her ears.

"You drew this last night?" she said, her mouth agape. "That is amazing!". Without warning, she set the book down and quickly leapt off the chair, engulfing you in a quick hug where you stood. You staggered back a step before steadying yourself and returning the embrace. Vi broke away and you replied.

"Thank you."

The rest of the afternoon, the two of you discussed different things such as your hobbies and passing time. You and Vi decided that you would meet again the next week when you had a day off and parted ways.

This time, she didn't kiss you. You were disappointed, but none the less felt wonderful about the day you had had.

PART FIVE: Passing Time

Over the next week, you spent a lot of time doing the things you normally do. Drawing, going on walks, but one thing on your mind was a new addition to the constants- Vi. She was so wonderful, you didn't understand it, but you felt like you had a connection with her that you had never had with anyone else. You weren't obsessed or anything like that, but you were definitely struck with what felt like a heart wrenching teenage crush.

You had been stewing in your thoughts the last few days. Although it wasn't your intention and you were sure you were still going to see her later that week, you were worried that perhaps she didn't actually like you like that. You were concerned because each time you spent time together, she appeared to be thinking of something, or someone, else. It's not like you own her, though, so you didn't think much of it as it was happening. Now however, you can't help your thoughts straying to those scenarios.

What if she has a girlfriend?

What if she doesn't even want to be like that with anyone?

You shrugged off those thoughts for the time being. It was Monday and you had already gone to work, drudging through old boxes that had new loot in them for the shelves of the shop. Your boss, Eddie, always got his stuff in mysterious ways but you were not too clueless as to how he may obtain them. Simple, he hired people to steal from topsiders and bring their little trinkets and nick-knacks down here. Something that normally people wouldn't find down here. One may be surprised how well simple things like gadgets and figurines sell in a place like this. Likely, people are just looking for a lick of simplicity in such a seemingly sour place.

Nothing out of the ordinary or exciting happened at work that day, so the day dredged on and on until finally you were able to go home. You waved goodbye to Eddie and his stubbly face gave a grunt and a little nod in response.

"See you tomorrow," you muttered. You weren't really in the mood to sound happy and nice today. Different than your usual, you just wanted to go home and take a bath in the old grungy bathtub in your studio. You grabbed your brown saggy backpack from behind the front counter and threw it over your shoulder leaving one strap hanging behind your back. Your hand pushed open the front door and you let it close naturally behind you as you walked through. Turning to your right, you started your journey under the small bridge that went over head a few feet forward. Reaching the other side of the underside of the bridge, you suddenly felt a presence beside you.

You turned your head quickly to your left and see a young woman. She had blue hair that was very very long and braided into two braids that nearly reached her knees. She was a pretty girl, but she looked very tired, and you couldn't help but feel the strange aura wafting off of her.

"Hey there, toots," she smiled over to you, tilting her head ever so slightly to the right. Her smile didn't reach her eyes and you felt a ping of panic in your chest, although you couldn't pinpoint why.

"Uh, hi?" You responded cautiously. She looked familiar, but you weren't exactly sure why. "Do you need something?" The words came out of your mouth a little more harshly than you intended, and the girl next to you shot her hands up in defense.

"Whoa, I'm just looking to make a new friend. Something wrong with that?" Her hands lowered and crossed over her chest. All the while, the two of you were still walking. You stopped abruptly, and she stopped a few steps ahead and looked back at you.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry," you muttered, feeling a bit ashamed that you had reacted so harshly. You felt a blush creep up into your cheeks and you continued. "Um, I'm (Y/N), what's your name?". Slowly, your feet started to continue their trek but silently you decided that you weren't going to go home with this girl on your heels. You didn't know why, but that didn't feel like a very smart idea.

Unbeknownst to you, she already knew where you lived, where you worked, and who your recent company was. In fact, she knew very well.

"Y/N... I like that name!" She smiled and clapped her hands together quickly. "My names Jinx. I'm usually a loner, but I saw you walking by and thought 'gee, she looks like she needs a friend!'" You grimaced at her words; did you really look that lonely?

You nod solemnly, and then sigh. Deciding to ignore the internal battle of instinct within you, you turned your lips into a grin and reached a hand over to her. You both stopped and she grabbed it in hers and shook it vigorously for a few seconds.

"Good to meet you, Jinx. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

-- VI's POV --

Vi had been working on some things throughout the day, mainly mending relationships she had had down here before everything happened. She wanted to try and produce a sense of normalcy for herself, even though it didn't seem like that was possible. Today she had been gathering the gumption to return to the places her, Jinx, Ekko, Claggor and Mylo used to play and hangout as children. She missed the ways things were but understood even if the events that pursued hadn't happened, things would still have been different than they were when they were children. That's what happens, people grow up.

Vi roughly passed her hand through her greasy hair. She hadn't showered in a few days. Hell, she didn't really even have a home down here anymore. Mostly she spent her time awake and about, finding "safe" places to sleep when she felt she needed rest. Vi was on the way to a small tavern style restaurant that had recently opened near where she met y/n. She wasn't trying to be creepy but couldn't help but feel a ping of excitement in her stomach when she thought of the possibility of seeing her before their next planned date.

Was it a date, though? Vi thought. Maybe she isn't even interested in me like that. She thought back on the few experiences she had with y/n. Ha, ya right. I saw the way she squirmed when I kissed her. The way her eyes became hooded when we were close. Her little breaths were so fucking cute when she was flustered.

Vi giggled to herself, reaching the front of the new restaurant. She opened the glass door, a little bell ringing to signify a new customer entering the establishment. A little woman rushed over to her, grabbing a menu from a makeshift host table near the door.

"How many?" the woman says breathily. She was very short, her red curly hair caressing her face. The hair failed to hide the slight fear that appeared on her face. Vi did that to people, made them scared. Must be her aura, or the fact that she just looks like a certified badass one hundred percent of the time.

"Just me," Vi shrugged slightly, her hands were in her pockets which caused them to raise slightly. The hostess turned around and signaled with her hand at Vi to follow. She led her to the bar and sat the menu on the counter. Smart girl, Vi thought. She can tell I need a drink.

The server left, and Vi took the opportunity to check out the menu and order a drink. After ordering from the bartender, she looked around the establishment. She took in the decor trying to figure out what kind of place this will be. It felt very... safe somehow. She liked it. As she scanned the area, she stopped dead in her tracks about three quarters of the way to a full three sixty.

At a table on the other side of the room y/n was smiling at a server who was presumably asking her how things were and all that classic server shit. Vi got excited, about to get up and walk right over there. Just as she was begging to stand, the server walked away and Vi's eyes rounded into discs.

She was sitting at the table with someone who made Vi's heart shoot into her throat. It was Jinx. They were laughing together over some bowls of what Vi assumed to be soup. Giggling at things here and there and looked like they were having a genuinely good time. Vi quickly turned back to the counter and put her hood on. Luckily today she was wearing a new jacket she had gotten, a nice black pleather item.

"What the fuck?" was all she could say as her thoughts raced at a thousand miles per minute.

PART SIX: Confrontation

"Wow, this is so cool!", you say in awe. The small grenade shaped item in your hand clacked around slightly as you rolled in from side to side.

"I KNOW, right?", Jinx snickered. She and you had been hanging out a lot the last few days, and although it felt strange at first you were starting to really enjoy her company. It felt good to have a friend. "It's just a lil' thing I do". The blue haired girl giggled slightly, shrugging while taking the item from your hands.

You are sitting on a stool and take a moment to look around you, taking in the grungy surroundings. Jinx had drawn little faces and words all over the walls in vibrant spray paints, most glowing in the dimmer parts of the room. You didn't find it weird, however. You thought it was awesome and a killer way to express oneself. Hell, you paint and draw and obsess over things. What's the difference?

Jinx had turned around, rummaging through some drawers beneath the desk she had. She was haphazardly slinging tools here and there as she rummaged through the drawer, some of which you had to dodge to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face. You hear her make a 'aha!' type sound and turn back to face you. In her hands was a small tan notebook. The binding was barely holding together, and a leather cord wrapped around the item to hold it shut. She walked over beside you and leaned against the wall facing you. You noticed her eyes glass over slightly as her scrawny fingers grazed the top of the book. Just as quickly as you noticed, she snapped out of it and yanked the cord off of the book.

"This," she started, pausing momentarily, "is my sister's diary. From way back in the day. I found it in her prison belongings after she was released." Her head tilted slightly, and a grin started forming at the corner of her lips. "And you... get to read it!"

You raised a brow, intrigued but confused. "I don't even know your sister, Jinx. Although I'm flattered, I guess, wouldn't that be an invasion of privacy?" Your heart started beating a little faster as the look on her face contorted slightly. She seemed like she was becoming upset but again, her attitude quickly snapped back.

"Toots... Oh Toots... So naive", she smiled. She grabbed your hand and turned it so your palm was facing up. Her hands were cold against your own, and you shuttered slightly. She looked at you dead in the eyes as yours widened, and you felt her place the book into your palm. She gave a little nod, and you tore your eyes from her big blue ones and gazed down. On the front of the brown leather, a small engraving enchanted the lower right corner.

You took a moment, a little bit confused. Then in shock, you looked up at her with your mouth agape. She was sitting there nodding and wiggling her eyebrows, a faint smile on her face. You looked back down at the book, then back up at her. Does she know that you and Vi had been hanging out, too? That you felt some sort of way about her? Of course she does, dumby, why else would she look so excited about you finding who this diary belongs to.

"I can't read this..." you started. "It is not rig-", Jinx cut you off, her foot slamming into the ground causing you to flinch back slightly.

"You WILL read this diary, (y/n). No questions asked. I didn't mean to, but my stupid heart has decided it likes you and you have actually become a friend of mine. That means that now I have to protect you as well as Vi." She shook her heads slightly towards you. "Why do you think a random girl ran into you wanting to be your friend? Is that like, a common thing for you?" She laughs like a spazz, and you see a little craziness flash behind her eyes. You suddenly feel really small.

"Uh... okay I guess... but how did you know that I knew Vi?" You started reluctantly, staring at her as you questioned.

Jinx threw her head back and laughed. "(y/n), I always know where my sister is. After our last," she paused contemplating what to say, "falling out... I have kept close tabs on her because, well, she is my sister. I love her and even if she hates me I don't want to lose her again. Make sense?"

You nodded slightly. You scanned your memory, trying to remember seeing Jinx around before you met her formally. Always keeping a keen eye on your surroundings, it was rare for you to miss new faces. Then, it hit you. That first night you went out for drinks with Vi, there had been a girl lingering in the corner of the old bar. She was wearing a hood which engulfed her face in shadow. She flicked a straw around in her drink with her head resting in her hand. You remembered her solely because of the long blue braids you saw hanging down through the hood and touching the floor.

"Oh my God! You have been stalking us!" you barked at her, quickly covering your mouth and then repeating yourself a little quieter. "Stalking us? Jinx, what the hell man? You know you could just like, apologize or whatever and make up. I don't know what you guys went through but..." You stopped, noticing Jinx's pale blue eyes lower, tears pooling at the brims of her eyelids and slowly dripping down her cheeks.

"No, Toots, unfortunately I can't just apologize," Jinx sneered. She reached her hands up and brushed the tears off her face, and you couldn't help but feel guilty for what you had said. "And you are not going to get away from reading this. Open it up, little lady. Read it! Don't worry, the only important parts are the very last few pages." She reached over and yanked the book open, turning it to the third to last page and jamming her finger into the smudgy ink on the paper.

You sighed. Knowing Jinx pretty well at this point, or at least thinking you did, you knew it wouldn't be a great idea to tell her no again. You turned your attention to the paper in your hand and began reading.

-- VI'S POV --

Pacing outside of the dingy apartment, Vi ran her hand through her hair and lit another cigarette. She stopped, staring at the door. She knew (y/n) and Jinx were in there, doing God knows what, and she wanted to barge in there so bad and confront the both of them. Jesus, what am I, the fun police? She thought. No, Jinx is dangerous and (y/n) deserves to know. Even if she decides to keep... hanging out with her, it's none of my business. I'll give it one hour. One damn hour, and then I'm busting down that damn door.

-- YOUR POV --

Dear stupid diary,

After Caitlyn had me released, I had fully intended on leaving her goody two shoes ass and finding my sister. But the woman has me enthralled. She is so beautiful, and even though she is a snooty brat I can't help but start feeling things for her. What the fuck is that? The very breed of people killed my parents and threw me into the hell hole prison. Now I am falling for one of them? Fuck that.

Love, Vi

You shook your head, and asked Jinx, "How long ago was this written?" You nervously fidgeted with the corner of the pages.

"About a year ago, I guess." She answered. You did not reply, instead your turned to the next entry.

Dear diary, or whatever,

The only reason I got you is so that I can put my thoughts in here and god damn it, have the last few days given me a lot to write about. First of all, we found Powder. In fact, Silco and his damn goons have her as their pet. Everyone who hears her name shakes their head like they have heard the name of someone who died or something.

I met Caitlyn's parents today. She brought me into her room through her window and her mom nearly shot both of us with a rifle. She looked like an old version of Caitlyn, but she was very harsh and did not like me at all. Makes sense, I am just a gross bottom sider. Caitlyn and I, we got cleaned up and sat in her room. It felt so good to be alone with her. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

Anyway, Caitlyn and I finally found Powder and she kind of like... freaked on us. I am not sure what that was all about but all I know is she seems so broken. I want to help her. I want to fix whatever pain she has gone through, even if it seems impossible right now. Well, it's only impossible because Ekko (can you believe it, Diary? Ekko!) freaking KIDNAPPED me and Caitlyn! He took us to this awesome sanctuary he built. It's actually really really cool... I can't tell him that though, or else it will get to his head and I can't have that.

So today we are going to do some more searching, again.

Until next time,

"So, are you Powder?" You asked innocently. Jinx, or Powder? lifted her hand and shook it slightly giving a 'kind of' type of signal. You eyed her, and nodded slightly, returning to the next and final installment of the diary.

Oh my fucking god. I don't even know what to write, or how to write it right now. But long story short, Powder kidnapped me and Cait.

Cait? She gave her a nickname. You rolled your eyes slightly but kept reading.

She killed Silco. She lost her shit and killed Silco. I really thought she was going to end us too... She made it very clear that "Powder's dead," and "I'm Jinx now" but it's such bullshit. She will always be Powder... She will always be my sister. Needless to say, she actually let us go.

Unfortunately, I can't help what it going to be coming for her now, though. She built a rocket. A Huge missile launcher with one of the crystals she had stolen... She shot it right into the counselor building... she... she really did it.

Your jaw dropped, and you looked up at Jinx. She was still standing there, looking at her nails and you could tell she was feeling proud of herself. Closing the diary, you grabbed Jinx's write and slammed it back into her hands.

"That was YOU?", you yelled. You couldn't help but feel fear and also an odd sense of excitement brimming your very being. Jinx had been the one to blow up the councilor building, but the Undercity wasn't given much else besides that as Topside closed all communication with us.

"The one and only!", she started circling you, and you just followed her movements as she stopped in front of you, and put her hands on the arms of the stool in which you sat.

"That," you started, pausing for dramatic effect, "is awesome! Jinx, you single handedly got those cunts off of our backs! Even if it is only for a little while..." unable to contain your excitement, you jumped which caused Jinx to bounce back slightly, and you wrapped your arms around her. "You are now the coolest person I have ever met!"

Jinx looks taken aback, and she looks around as if someone is pranking her. Right before you release her, you both jump and turn towards the door. A loud bang reverberated around the room.

Jinx pushes you hard, and you land on the stool which in turn falls and you both tumble backwards. She pulls a pistol out of a drawer quicker than you can even see, and points it towards the woman in the doorway.

"Vi?" You say in shock.

"Get off the floor, sweet stuff. We've got some talking to do." She waltzes in and slams the door shut behind her as best as she can with it now being broken. Jinx keeps her gun trained on her the entire time, but Vi simply walks by and plops down on the couch that populates the area against one of the particularly graffiti filled walls. She takes a moment, running her hand through her hair.

"So," Vi starts, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. She raises her hands while her elbows still rest. "What the fuck, guys?"

You look over at Jinx, who drops her arm holding the weapon, and rolls her eyes.

This is going to be a long night.

#vi arcane #vi fanfic #arcane fanfic #vi x reader #vi league of legends #vi smut #vi x reader smut #league of legends x reader #Vi x Fem Reader

41 notes · View notes

wisdomssdaughterr · 1 year

Text

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER FIFTEEN → LOST AND FOUND

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 2.4k

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

Two sets of sneakers ran through the grass, bounding and leaping over the soft earth.

“Come on!” A little girl giggled as she gripped a small hand in her own, tugging her friend along.

“Slow down!” A little boy managed to laugh out, trailing a few steps behind her out of breath. The two kids raced across the grand expanse of a quiet park. A few children accompanied by their parents were scattered around playing and chatting in the warm summer breeze underneath the bright blue sky.

The two kids skidded to a sudden stop in front of a woman. She stood tall with perfectly pinned-back hair that didn’t budge in the wind. The dress she donned matched the color of the sky, and the pearls around her neck and dangling from her ears mirrored the clouds. She had a sunny disposition to her as well; a bright, warm smile spread over her lips at the sight of the two children and she bent down to meet their eyes.

Her hand brushed back the sweaty curls on top of her son’s head affectionately as she said, “Are you all ready to go, sweetheart? I’ve got to get dinner on before your father gets home from work.”

The little boy nodded and returned his mother’s smile, but his hand was still held in that of his best friend. He turned to her, and his smile began a smug one. “We just finished our game and I won.”

With a scoff, the little girl dropped his hand and gave his arm a playful shove. “No way! I won!”

“Well, it sounds like we’ll have to take another trip to the park later this week to see who the real winner is, huh?” The woman stood up and held out her hand for her son to take, and he did so wordlessly. She asked the little girl, “Do you want us to walk you back over to your mom, Ellie?”

Ellie shook her head and jabbed her thumb in the direction of a group of women gathered around a picnic table, eagerly gossiping about the latest news in Hawkins, Indiana. “No, I’m ‘kay. I can walk myself over there.”

“Okay, honey,” she said. “We’ll see you soon. Tell your mother I’ll call her tonight or tomorrow.”

“Bye!” The boy waved and shot Ellie one last smile before he and his mother disappeared from Ellie’s sight and returned home for the evening.

Blowing some air from her rosy cheeks, Ellie brushed back pieces of her hair that fell out of her twin braids and stuck to the sweat that beaded across her forehead.

She sat her sights on her mother and began to drag her tired feet toward her, but she stopped halfway into her journey across the park when a small patch of wildflowers caught her attention.

The Hawkins Park was surrounded on two sides by the looming woods that weaved its way around and between the town. The tall trees provided just enough shade and they were beautifully bordered by thick weeks tangled with wildflowers that bloomed every summer in a rainbow of colors. Almost every time they visited the park, Ellie and her mother would pick a couple before they left, and they’d put them in a vase on Ellie’s bedroom windowsill.

That time, however, she wanted to surprise her mother with the flowers instead. She took off toward the woods with a smile stuck on her face and not an ounce of fear in her bones.

She stood at the edge of the darkened woods and collected a few before she started to follow the path beyond the tree line. The colors of the flowers varied the deeper she ventured over the tall weeks; she was so excited to bring them back to her mother.

However, as Ellie continued, the trees started to look the same, and the footpaths become more and more unworn by parkgoers. The tree branches fractured the blue sky into pieces and their leaves blocked out more and more rays of golden sunlight from lighting her way. The world suddenly became much scarier to the little girl who had always prided herself on being fearless.

Time continued to press on in Hawkins, Indiana, but it froze for Ellie. That day at the park had become the last time she was seen alive, and the day her family had lived in a peaceful bliss inside their suburban bubble where they believed they were untouchable.

From that summer on, the people of Hawkins spent their days wondering what happened to the little girl who vanished from the park.

The Torres family tried to stay optimistic; they desperately believed the mystery surrounding their only child would be solved and she’d return home to them. They promised to be better and to do better. They promised to never let her go again.

They spent every night praying and pushing away a growing pain inside their broken hearts. They placed bouquets of wildflowers on the grass of an empty grave and ignored the passing of time that everyone else in Hawkins relished in. The town healed, but they did not. Their friends and neighbors said they were in denial, but the couple refused to let go of the very last thread of hope they had, by some miracle, Ellie Torres was still out there, somewhere, and that she was alive.

Chief Hopper stood in front of Sunshine with a much less gruff expression upon his face; there was something softer in the glint of his eyes as he unfolded a piece of paper that he pulled from the breast pocket of his uniform. He held out the paper to Sunshine, but she hesitated. Her finger trembled and her head hurt from the tornado events that occurred that night.

With a breath, she took the paper and carefully looked it over, confused. It was a missing poster, one almost identical to the poster she saw buried under the mess of flyers on the telephone pole earlier that day. Only, that piece of paper wasn’t as weathered and the image of the little girl on it was clear as day. It was a black and white photograph. The girl wore twin braids in her hair and wore a bright smile.

Sunshine furrowed her brows as she glanced back at Hopper, not understanding why he had given her that poster.

Clearing his throat, Hopper searched for the right words.

“That little girl, Danielle Torres, went missing around ten years ago, and after Will disappeared, everyone ‘round here tried to find some kind of connection between the two,” he said with a shake of his head and eyes trained on the paper still in Sunshine’s hands. “Mrs. Torres came into the station a couple of days ago, and she was so sure she saw someone, some kid, that looked too much like her missing daughter. Of course, I didn’t believe her. I thought she was as crazy as Joyce, but clearly, Joyce wasn’t crazy; she was right about everything from the jump. Then I started thinking, after you showed up at the station, that maybe Mary-Jane wasn’t crazy either.”

Sunshine still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her.

However, Steve seemed to piece together the pieces a lot faster. He peered over her shoulder at the poster, his brows pulled in concentration despite the array of cuts across his forehead.

“Whoa, hold on,” Steve shook his head. “Danielle Torres. You…You mean she’s…” His words trailed off as he glanced between the little girl on the poster and the teenage girl beside him.

“She’s Danielle Torres.” Steve pressed his lips together in a thin line at Hopper’s words, but they still weren’t registering inside Sunshine’s head. The chief seemed to notice that; he looked right at her. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I, uh, got the confirmation I needed.” He paused before he carefully said to Sunshine. “You are Danielle Torres.”

There was still a ringing in her ears and the pain of just having lost her sister left her open like an exposed wound. Sunshine’s mind didn’t truly understand the extent of his statement. She was Danielle Torres; she didn’t know who Danielle Torres was. Sunshine didn’t know who she was beyond the little number tattooed on her wrist.

“I don’t…What does that mean?” Her voice came out as a whisper, laced with the exhaustion that nearly overtook her whole being.

“It means you can go home.” The sincerity in Hopper’s voice was nearly thought to buckle her knees. She swayed and caught Steve’s wrist as Hopper continued, “Your parents believed you were alive years after everyone else stopped. They were right; the whole time they were right. And they’re still here in town. After we’re done, I can take you to them. I can take you home.”

Home. The words didn’t sound real as they entered Sunshine’s ears and rattled around inside her brain. She could go home? She had a home to go home to?

For as long as she could remember the only place she had “belonged” was inside the Lab. Then there was Chief Hopper, standing before her, with a poster with her face on it, telling her she had parents who had been in Hawkins the whole time, waiting for her.

She said nothing, too stunned to utter a word.

Something down the hall caught Hopper’s eye. “I’ll be back,” he said before he disappeared into one of the hospital rooms.

A numbness spread through Sunshine, growing larger than the pain that was there only a moment ago. She didn’t know what to think or how exactly she was supposed to react.

Eleven, the Demogorgon, Will, Barb. All of those things collided with each other and made her feel sick. She had a family too, a real one with a home that she could return to. She didn’t understand how so many things could happen in just one night.

She didn’t feel relief at the news; Sunshine felt swarmed with sudden and violent guilt. She wasn’t the only one who deserved to go home to a family that night. Eleven did. Barb did. Ivy, Nine, Ten, and every other child from the Lab deserved to go home too. Yet, it was only Sunshine who remained; she wasn’t sure she deserved that.

The idea of a family, a home, was nothing but a far-fetched dream inside her head. For a year she pressed her nose through the bars on her bedroom windows and stared out into the woods surrounding the Lab daydreaming of her parents coming to save her and take her back to their home.

After ten years, Sunshine finally did that, but she wasn’t the same little girl that stared back at her in the photograph in the poster. She was more akin to a science experiment than the little girl she had once been.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered. Sunshine blinked, trying to pull herself out of her daze just enough to glance over at him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I knew you.”

Sunshine shook her head. “W-What?”

“I knew you. I have-” His voice hitched in shock and disbelief. “I have a picture of us. Pictures, actually, of us when we were little. We knew each other.”

She didn’t know him; Sunshine had no memory of Steve or her parents or anything she had before she was taken to the Lab. Her brain had been picked apart and patched back together too many times, and any life she had before was stolen. There was a time when Sunshine, Danielle, had everything. She had friends and a family that had never left the same place she’d been in the whole time. Yet, there was no tangible memory of any of it inside her head.

She needed time to process it all, but there was none. Two shorter figures came running down the hallway right toward her and Steve. They were a little out of breath and much livelier than they had been back at the middle school.

“Will’s awake and he really wants to meet you,” Dustin said. He grabbed Sunshine’s hand and started to pull her in the direction they had just come from. “Come on!”

With no time to protest, Sunshine was all but dragged by Dustin and Lucas.

When she stepped inside the hospital room, Sunshine was greeted by a young boy awake in the bed. The blankets were tucked under his chin and his mother had a hand on the top of his head, brushing his hair soothingly.

Will’s skin was nearly paper white and dark circles hung under his eye, but he wore a small smile on his cracked lips. He was alive, much to the relief of everyone inside the room. His mother and brother flanked his right side while Mike, Lucas, and Dustin lined up along the left.

Dustin hadn’t let go of Sunshine’s hand and dragged her right to the side of Will’s bed. “This is the girl we were telling you about! Will, meet Sunshine. Sunshine, Will.”

“She had superpowers!” Lucas jumped in. “She helped your brother, Nancy, and for some reason, Nancy’s boyfriend, fight the Demogorgon.”

“Yeah, and she took out these guys with guns who were after us at the old junkyard, back when we were fugitives!” Dustin said.

Will looked at her for a moment before he said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sunshine replied, offering the young boy a tired smile.

The kids continued to recount everything that Will missed when he was gone; Sunshine watched them with a heavy heart.

There was something both beautiful and heartbreaking about it all. A boy was found, a girl was lost, and a lost girl was found.

Hurt stung the air, and the wounds of everything that had occurred that night still bled, but that night Hawkins began to slowly stitch itself back together. A new sense of normal was born.

Sunshine, who originally had no intention of sticking around Hawkins after escaping the Lab, had become too intertwined with it. She had a couple of reasons to stay for a little longer, at least.

Maybe it wouldn’t last long. Maybe her parents had moved on and didn’t want their long-lost child back in their lives after too much time had passed. If they did, she’d stay. If they didn’t, she go.

She had no idea what the future held, but she’d never been closer to figuring it out.

Tagged: @sattlersquarry @lovefrom-theother-side

#stranger things #steve harrington #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #jim hopper #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #stranger things 1 #stranger things oc #project sunshine

21 notes · View notes

wishful-seeker · 9 months

Text

Visions i see while scrying and what they mean in my practice

Scrying is a very personal divination method that uses clairvoyance and visions to predict the future. Black mirror Scrying uses a black mirror to see visions by staring softly into the black void.

In my previous post about scrying i explained that there is no correspondence book or rules that tell you what visions mean, and you have to come up with your own meanings to the visions. This creates a very personal divination method thats specifically tailored to the user, similar to bone throwing or charm casting.

Id like to share what my divination looks like for me, and what certain visions mean in my practice, just for funsies.

1. A clear starry night sky with a treeline

This first one is the most interesting because i see it every single session, and its actually the background for all my other visions. Everything i see is up against this beautiful twinkling sky, almost as if my brain has created a specific mental space dedicated to seeing visions.

This clear starry night sky symbolizes dreams and hopes coming true, happiness, good fortune, relaxation, and achieving goals. In yes or no readings this is definitely a "yes, don't even worry about it" or a positive answer. The gif up top is similar to what i see. I actually painted it on a pumpkin last year:

That brings number 2

2. The milkway

This represents having no limits to what i can achieve.

3. A tear

Sometimes the milkway is paired with a tear, or a rip, or it starts as a rip in time then turns into a milkyway. The tear represents forcibly breaking boundaries or barriers, in a positive light it means im not letting anything prevent me from achieving my goals.

4. A star

Now yes, i see stars in the starry night sky, but occasionally ill get a really bright flash in one star, this tells me i should consider the star by itself. The meaning i use is the same as the star tarot card: hope, rebuilding after destruction, keep moving forward, keep fighting, good things are coming, the fight is almost over. I saw this every time i asked about my health before being diagnosed and my long fight of undiagnosed pain ending. Right before being diagnosed i kept seeing the sun, or sunrays.

5. The sun

Also like tarot, symbolizes victory, Happiness, joy, and celebration.

6. The letter V

To me this means "hang in there" and if you're hanging by a thread just hold on a little longer.

7. The letter X

First time i saw it was right before being diagnosed. To me it represents the unkown, the ending of something, lower self, 'x marks the spot', associated with death and rebirth, change, and transition and "crossing of a threshold". I associate with big change, finding the answer or "treasure" and also other dimensions.

8. A seed

To me a seed represents potential, trust, hope, nourishment, cycles, time, and provision. It says "relax, you can't grow a garden in a day" and "trust the process"

9. Moss

Moss is something i see a lot when scrying with ketamine hallucinations and to me it means humility, transience and imperfection. Knowing there is beauty in imperfection.

10. Wings (feathery)

This always represents freedom to me.

11. Gentle rain

To me this represents the peace you feel once you've won a battle. Growth and rebirth, change, and signals the start of a new season that connected to happiness.

12. An archway

Represents strength, support, moving forward, new opportunities, doorway to the spirit world, new perspective, Initiation, shedding old ways, expansivness, and another path or way.

13. Shooting star

Represents wishes, achieving goals, and a push to work hard.

Thats the most common ones i see

Sometimes I'll see scenes unfold. Once i saw a woman kneeling infront of a rock in the woods praying for me, I've seen the hands of god reach out to me, eyes looking down at me, stuff like that. Pretty much everything i see has a positive undertone, i think it's because my brain knows i can get scared easily, so it only shows me things that aren't scary. Even so, every scrying session ive had has been incredibly accurate, specific, and has always been right. Its never like "uh idk what this means" like with tarot.

#Scrying #witchy #witchcraft #clairvoyance #divination

5 notes · View notes

ms-erin-kallus · 9 months

Text

I've Killed a Million Petty Souls, but I Couldn't Kill You

Chapter 10

AO3 link ~ https://archiveofourown.org/works/44541196/chapters/112035802

Once again, a big shout out to @justanothersadperson93 for the beta reading! You're a real one!

The waiting area was small and far too brightly lit for what was necessary. Kallus sat uncomfortably in one of the generic plastic chairs typical of office settings, alone with only his thoughts as he waited with an impatience that grew exponentially with every passing second. There were better things to do with his time than some yearly Imperial mandated physical that was completely useless, at least outwardly.

A person’s physical ailments were almost always overlooked irrespective of what they were; a body was a body to the Empire, regardless of what shape it was in. There were always plenty of menial job positions that needed filling. Mostly because the Empire plowed through stormtroopers like they were a never ending commodity.

Those with severe mental illness were almost encouraged to join both the Imperial navy and, specifically, ISB. It made no sense while also making perfect sense. They were easier to manipulate, especially when medication was involved.

Aliens were barred despite ability or promise. Not specifically on paper, but absolutely in practice.

It was one of the things the rebels did effectively right.

“Agent 021,” a woman barked out into the silent room for no reason other than the fact that she could.

It was impossible to stifle his exacerbated sigh as he stood and made his way to the door where the woman waited for him disgruntled. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that didn’t want to be there.

“State your name,” she said almost robotically as she led him down a long hallway.

“Alexsandr Kallus.”

She looked at the chart and then at him, “spell your first name.”

When she realized that it wasn’t a misspelling he heard her scoff, “okay, then, pretentious.”

Another sigh and Kallus was led into a dark, empty, interrogation like room, I hate this part, he thought as he waited for the unnecessary embarrassment that he swore was just a mental torture tactic to help weed out ‘the weak’.

“State your name,” another voice ordered before he complied. “Designation number?”

“021” he almost snapped at the modulated voice behind the two way mirror. Annoyance was beginning to become an understatement and they hadn’t even started the worst part.

A door to his side whirred open and Kallus closed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling and shook his head.

Seriously?

A girl, barely twenty he would guess, came into the room with a cart that carried a small monitor and mess of cords just in front of an older man with a clipboard.

“I’ll need you to undress,” she told him shakily. “Completely.”

Kallus complied and he could feel the girl’s nervousness and discomfort radiate from where she stood well behind him. It was done purposefully. Every year ‘patients’ were prepped by the opposite sex. Every year they stayed the same age as said patient grew older. It was humiliating by design.

Another reaction for their records.

With his clothes in a neatly folded pile beside, him the medical ‘professional’ hidden safely behind the mirror ordered again, arms out to your sides. Kallus complied and a red laser scanned him slowly and completely from head to toe.

“Turn around.”

The same happened behind him.

Full biometric scan.

If he were to fully defect, he would be barred from any mission that required him in person. There would be no hiding from the Empire. Ever. They made sure of it.

“Turn to face the mirror,” the voice barked as the girl anxiously wheeled the cart up to him and fumbled with a small bag of leads.

“Have you done this before,” he asked.

“No,” she whispered shakily.

“Take a breath,” he told her quietly enough to not be heard without looking down at her. “They’re watching you too.”

The package in her hand crumpled but he heard her do as suggested before her trembling fingers finally pushed a small sticker onto his skin just below his left rib cage.

It took her a long while, but once she had him hooked up to the monitor she almost ran from the room.

Poor girl.

The old man that had stayed hidden in a far corner took his cue as she left and made a slow, almost predatory circle around him as he scribbled down his information. “Lift your arms,” he ordered as he examined Kallus’ crotch far too long for it to be deemed ‘ethical’ to say the least.

A battery of questions about how he had been feeling physically came from behind the mirror as the old man circled him again.

Disgusted he wanted to yell at them but an outburst would only get him more time with the psychiatrist that would humiliate him next.

They wanted controllable machines and that’s what he had always given them.

“Finished,” the voice told the old man before he set his clipboard down and began to unhook the leads from his cold skin. The old man again took enough time for Kallus to realize his lack of ‘promptness’ probably wasn’t a part of the process and a wave of revulsion washed over him.

If you hit him, it will probably kill the old pervert, he thought to himself as he fought the urge to not end up in the brig for violence that would, again, only get him more time with the next doctor. Not worth the paperwork.

Kallus was beyond mortified, which was their intent. It was literally unnecessary, to anyone with a modicum of a conscience at the very least, and made him wonder what would happen to a civilian under arrest, or even just mere suspicion. If they would do it to him…

The old man sighed, “I guess you can get dressed now,” he told Kallus as he looked him up and down one last time before he begrudgingly turned and pushed the cart out of the room.

Kallus used his hands to cover himself until he knew he was gone.

An obvious mistake, but he didn’t care.

The rebels would never, he wondered, but ultimately knew.

The memory of a nervous woman trapped on a fancy yacht, one that was intimidated by a hostile man with the same intentions, suddenly played through his mind.

You're not any better.

A few minutes later, Kallus was dressed and lying on an uncomfortable couch type piece of furniture that was far too short to accommodate his height as he waited for what would somehow be far more uncomfortable than his ‘physical’.

The lying position was meant to make the patient feel secure and; thus, in practice, make them open up more. At least that was what they were told because ‘vulnerable’ wasn’t remotely close to how he actually felt. If ‘calming’ really was what they were going for then they had failed spectacularly.

Intended comfort wasn’t what he was feeling. Scenario after scenario ran rampant through his field combat trained mind; he sat up.

“Lie down,” the middle aged woman that walked in and sat down silently in front of him snapped. It was unlikely that she would cause a physical altercation with him, at least he didn’t think, but she wouldn’t, however, tell him to lay back down again as a second warning; lest he want said altercation.

There were few things that Imperial medical staffers loved more than restraining subjectively combative patients.

“Designation number?” she asked without looking up from the device in her hands as he slowly slumped back to lying with a glare.

“021.”

Without an introduction of her own she asked, “are you having any symptoms of depression?”

Only all of the time.

“No.”

“Anxiety? Panic attacks?” she asked apathetically.

You have no idea.

“No,” he answered acerbically.

“Feelings of hurting yourself or others?” She ignored his tone.

You’re pushing that already.

“No.”

What felt like an hour, but was actually ten minutes according to the clock above her, came a question he had never been asked in a session before.

“Tell me about your parents.”

Why?

He knew that she noticed his reaction because she began to type furiously on her datapad.

“Why? That has never come up prior,” he told her with more nervousness than he intended.

Fuck.

She huffed loudly as if she was tired of being asked the same question by every other patient, ”new protocol. Answer the question.”

“What exactly do you want to know,” he asked as he tried desperately to use every bit of his training to keep his growing dread in check. It was barely working and he was afraid that he would quickly lose control.

The woman was silent for a moment, “what do you think I should know?”

“I’ve got nothing to tell, it was a quiet, normal childhood,” he lied.

A deafening silence roared through the room and he knew that she could wait him out.

He joked about transferring Rhoan to interrogations, but this woman could probably break the best of them, without really trying.

It’s probably where she came from, he realized before he sighed and resigned himself to where the session was going to go. Regardless of how hard he tried.

Another mark on your file.

“Start with your father,” she told him when she knew that she had bested him.

“He was a dick,” Kallus snapped before he could stop himself. “I mean,” he cleared his throat quietly, “he could’ve been a little better to people.”

The doctor ignored the recovery statement, “I see here that he was also military, looks like… highly ranked in the navy. Is he why you joined?”

Didn’t give me a damn choice. Kallus was more than sure the man would’ve hunted him down for sport had he tried to run away from him. Very healthy relationship.

“Yes.”

“Willfully?” she prodded.

Kallus scoffed unintentionally and the woman pounced.

“Tell me why you joined the military,” she asked and he knew it was a baited question.

“At first, no, I hadn’t planned on a military career. But once I was put into military school, it was the only op-,” he started, “direction, I could go in.”

“Option?” she redirected.

Fuck.

“Are they not synonymous?” he asked carefully.

Her eyes narrowed; she knew which battles to pick. She was good.

“I suppose.” More typing. “What about your mother?” she went on.

Kallus suddenly went numb. It was the only thing he could bare to feel when he was forced to go to the place where he kept her hidden from daily cognition. It was meant to be a simple defense mechanism, but it was far more effective than it should’ve been.

Silence.

“Well?” the doctor asked with cruel disregard.

Oh, I don’t know? I survived, she didn’t and my horrid father blamed me every chance he got until he died himself.

“I didn’t know her. She died in childbirth.”

“And how does that make you feel?” she asked as she scrolled through what he knew were notes that she had already read.

It had always pained him that he never got the chance to meet her. His father refused to bring her up, ever, and her side of the family wasn’t allowed anywhere near him. Years later he found out that an aunt had petitioned the court for custody on the grounds of mistreatment but had been denied.

That tended to happen when a person fought someone with the type of connections he had. Connections were the only thing that could stop their money.

“I see,” she mumbled to herself. “Then who raised you?”

The only person that has ever actually loved me.

“I had a governess until I was four. Then another until I went to boarding school,” he told her as simply as he could, knowing that she was treading into memories that he had spent his entire life repressing and for good reason.

“And you got along with them well?” she asked as she looked right at him.

“Yes, both,” he lied. It was really only the first one.

‘You deserve to be loved,’ her voice screamed at him for the first time in years.

Fresh pain tore through him as the vision of her being dragged away suddenly haunted his mind once more.

“What happened to the first one?” she asked casually as his temper began to flare up at her even more.

“She was fired,” he warned.

His father let him spend his formative years believing that it was his fault. Had I not taken her cookies, she never would’ve chased me.

His agitation went purposefully ignored, “why?”

We were just playing.

“I don’t remember, I was too young, I assume,” he lied again.

‘Get out! I’ll be damned if that boy is coddled!’ he heard his father shout.

The therapist typed for a suspiciously long time. “It says here that you were delayed in speech until four. Do you know why?”

I was terrified of him.

“Again, I don’t know.”

The doctor looked him up and down and conceded, “I see.”

You see my fist across your face?

“So, your father was military, probably gone more than he was there, your mother died before you could form a relationship, and you were raised by strangers. Is this all correct?”

Fuck. You.

“Yes,” Kallus agreed as simply as he could manage. The discomfort caused by the man from the previous testing was becoming a far more pleasant encounter the further she went into his past.

“And now?” she asked.

“What about now?” he replied suspiciously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she warned with a hint of irritation.

“I don’t have time to dwell on the past.”

The doctor scrolled more.

“Do you have any close acquaintances? Friends, so to say. Within the Empire or personally?”

Kallus had to look at the ceiling and dig his nails into the leather of the sofa to keep himself from literally killing her.

Jovan.

His first real friend in the academy, the one he betrayed because of the blind allegiance that he had let the Empire program into him. Terrified was an understatement when he thought about what might have happened to the man for doing exactly what the Empire was doing, just off the books.

I don’t deserve friends.

“I keep mostly to myself. Don’t really have time for a personal life with my position. It only gets in the way.”

The therapist didn’t move.

He dared not even think of her.

Pushing him away saved Rhoan’s life.

“The Empire comes first. Relationships hinder my full attention from completing my objective of keeping order,” he added hoping that it was enough to sway her.

It obviously was not.

“I don’t have time to dwell on unnecessary things,” he added cautiously.

“I’ll make some then. Tell me about Onderon,” she asked him with an ease that disgusted him and a disregard that infuriated him.

“I know the report is in there and that you read it,” he growled.

If she can somehow drag it out of me, I’m finished.

“Yes, I did. But I need to know how it has affected you in your own words, being in a combat role and all,” she informed him sardonically over the rim of her glasses.

“That was a long time ago,” he almost whispered as an old tightness in his chest that he was far too familiar with began to spread.

“Yes, but you watched every one of your men be killed while you were incapacitated,” she reminded him against his will.

The sound of an explosion suddenly erupted in his ears.

“I need to know how that affected you,” she asked knowingly picking fresh one of myriad scabs that pockmarked his memory.

‘Help! Someone stop him! Please!’ voices shouted through the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“How do you think it did, exactly? I doubt you’ve ever seen combat,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “You would never understand.”

“Make me,” she instructed without looking up at him.

One of his hands unconsciously tightened into a fist that he couldn’t relax and so he was forced to quickly move his other hand to conspicuously to cover it from her view.

“There was an explosion-,”

“Start before that. What were you doing before it happened?” she pushed with a complete disregard for the fact that he obviously didn’t want to relive the worst day of his life, especially with a stranger that didn’t give a damn about his mental well being even though it was her literal job to do so.

Kallus had to use every tactic he had ever learned to steady himself. His childhood was bad enough, but this…

“We went on patrol first thing in the morning-”

“First thing?” She cut him off. “You did absolutely nothing before? Just got up and went?”

It was the biggest regret of his life up to that point.

We skipped chow. They were hungry and preoccupied.

“Yes. There was a scout report. We had to go out immediately,” Kallus informed her matter of factly.

‘Anyone got a ration bar? I’m starving!’ a voice called out loudly, giving away their position.

“I understand,” she said without emotion.

I swear on the stars, he seethed through barely controlled breath.

She knew, “and you blame yourself?”

“Obviously,” he snapped before he could stop himself. “I watched them die, completely incapacitated and defenseless because of it, one by one because they were tired, hungry, and miserable.”

They didn’t stand a chance, he thought as he saw his own huddled body as it sat catatonically in the airlock of a ship he had flown out into random space.

Alone and with intent.

He couldn’t stop himself; she had finally crossed his line. He knew better, but proceeded regardless.

“We had been stuck in that fucking jungle with zero reinforcement or supply drops for days,” he snarled as he shot up. “There was a reason that the citizenry stayed behind those damn walls!”

Alexsandr Kallus suddenly realized that Bahryn wasn’t an isolated event.

“That was years ago. I don’t see the relevance today,” he told her with restraint.

She was either oblivious too, or simply just didn’t care that she was forcing him toward a traumatic response, or it was her intention. “It was your very first mission. That obviously had to have an impact on further assignments.”

No shit. It still does.

“I did the mandated therapy. It’s fine now.”

Why me?

There were twenty other men in his platoon. The one that he was in charge of. The one he was supposed to bring back to camp unharmed.

But he didn’t.

If he ever expected anyone to die, it was him, and it was why he considered desertion for almost a year afterward. The next assignment he was given, far too soon, gave him panic attacks daily. They were going to die too; he knew it was just a matter of time before he got them killed as well,

unless he kept everything in complete order. As long as he could control the situation nothing could go wrong. At least that’s how he learned to cope with it.

The doctor set the datapad in her lap and leaned toward him. “You compartmentalize well, agent. All of these events have their own perfect little segment of your memory. A short term means at self preservation that has gone on for too long.”

“And how do you know that exactly,” he seethed, ready to fight physically regardless that she was a woman and smaller than he.

“Anyone else would’ve broken long ago.”

#hot kallus #star wars rebels #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #star wars #kallus #rebel kallus #fulcrum #star wars rebels fanfic

5 notes · View notes

d3a7h · 2 years

Text

𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜.

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Trans Masc!Reader , Gabby Dawson x Trans Masc!Reader (platonic)

Series or Oneshot: Oneshot

Warnings: a lot of messed up thoughts. ed actions. mentions of sh. really bad trans thoughts (if ur trans i think you understand what i mean)

(Im venting/coping by writing this. I’m sorry this is all I have to lean on rn. If you see this due to my childhood lovers posts, they will be back soon i promise)

𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝.

———————————————————————

It was another one of those dreadful days, the days you didnt want to exist anymore, you didnt want to convince yourself to get out of bed. However, when you are a firefighter you cant have those days. You pushed yourself out of bed and got dressed, taking a deep breath in and letting it out as you walked out of your front door.

You walked through the garage doors seeing the rest of squad sitting at the table already. You sat down with them and leaned back in your chair staring at the ground. This caught Kelly’s attention though so he tapped you on the knee which dragged you out of your thoughts.

“You okay Ru?” He asked, concern very aparent in his voice. This got the other guys attentions. “Uh yeah fine, why?” “You look sick, like you havent slept or eaten in a few days.” “Oh, I dont know. Ive been fine just didnt want to get out of bed this morning thats all. No need to worry about me Lieutenant,” I told him before getting up from my chair. I patted his shoulder as I walked by; I made my way to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror wishing I could be like Kelly, like Matt, like Herrmann, I just wanted to be a boy.

I grabbed a bag from my locker before going into one of the showers. I took off my shirt and redid the wraps on my chest, I took the binder out of my bag and pulled it on as well. I pulled back on my shirt and tucked it in, I put my bag up and walked into the common area.

I was about to sit down when the alarm went off, we rushed to the trucks pulling up our gear and getting inside. “Are you sure youre okay Ru?” “Yes i promise.”

———————————————————————

I made lunch for everyone once we were back at district. We had been on a few jobs already and I knew everyone was hungry and luckily they enjoyed my cooking. The smell of food made my stomach churn, which sent me to the bathroom to puke.

“Now I know you arent okay, tell me whats up. Its my job to know how my teams doing and obviously im not doing a good one.” I heard Kellys voice enter the room which made me upset even more. Why couldnt he just leave me alone. I just wanted to go home and cry but he just wanted to see me break down in front of him didnt he?

I sat on the stall ground so I didnt have to open the door. “Ill never be a real guy Kelly, ill never get to be like you or matt or herrmann or cap or any guy for that matter. Medically im seen as a woman physically im a woman but only mentally do i get to be a boy. Its not fair. I wish i wasnt here anymore Kel. I havent eaten in a week, ive barley got a wink of sleep. I cant keep going but i have a job i have to save people so i still come every day even if i want to put a bullet in my head. I dont because i know ill hurt people but why do i have to hurt so others wont?”

I could see his shadow come closer before he sat down on the outside of the stall. “I know the whats the word?“ I let out a light laugh before resting my head on the door, “Dysphoria.“ “Yes that, it’s hard you’ve come to me about it a few times now. Well I’ve always pried it out of you but you don’t have to do anything alone. You are a real guy, you are a boy. That was done and said once we met you. Now, once shift is done we will get through the rest of the day together. We can invite your brother too.“

“Ill see if Adam’s free...uh thank you Kelly.“ “Oh course Ru, always. You know that.”

I was about to respond but the alarm blared and I quickly wiped my face and opened the door. Kelly’s face met mine and I let out a small breath and smiled, “Lets go Lieutenant.” I pushed past him lightly and quickly got to truck; Kelly not far behind me.

———————————————————————

Like Kelly said we were leaving work together, he drove me to my apartment and I honestly never imagined he’d be in my apartment. Normally when he helps me we go to his apartment so we arent alone and its not awkward. I heard nothing but his feet following behind me as we got to my apartment I unlocked the door and plopped down on my couch. I heard the door close and lock before Kelly flicked on the kitchen lights. “Can we invite Shay and Dawson over too? Please?” “Yeah of course, ill text shay and you text dawson.” “Great. Adam isnt free tonight, there on a case so i thought we could invite them.”

Shay came over almost instantly, she had alcohol like always; Dawson following a few steps behind her. I closed the door behing them locking it and sitting down on the couch next to Dawson. Dawson was my best friend, besides Kelly of course. I met Dawson when we were young, she was always my favorite person; now I get to see her every day, this jobs wearing on it a bit though.

She was there through my whole transition and now Kelly is here for the after thoughts and major dysphoria because you still arent in the right body. Your parts werent correct and you knew you would never be able to like it because no matter what you did you wouldnt have the real thing.

I was ripped from my thoughts from Dawson placing her hand on my hand; I looked up and she was still in a conversation with Shay and Kelly. I smiled softly and laid my head on the back of the couch calming down; the thoughts stropped rolling in and I just got to happily listen to my friends having a break.

Once Shay and Gabby left I thanked Kelly once again for wanting to help me get through today. He stood on the other side of the door but everything happened so quickly I felt his lips press to mine. “Im sorry,” he said straightening back up. “Kelly isnt into only women i see?“ “I do know i like you, so yeah I guess I dont only like women.”

“See you tomorrow Ru?” “Or how about.”

I cut off my sentence but pulling him into another kiss and he stepped inside closing the door behind him.

#kelly severide #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #imagine #kelly severide x reader #gabby dawson

21 notes · View notes

creepypasta-archive · 2 years

Text

Ticci Toby

by Kastoway

Creepypasta's most beloved twink. He's here and albeit he's "Not A Creepypasta" (just like Clockwork) and "Part of Slenderverse" (Like Masky, Hoodie and The Operator/Slenderman") he's still beloved in the community, mostly in the fandom's personification of the guy as a ditzy goof with a heart of gold and a jackass level daredevilnes/idiocy.

This interpretation, alongside the "cringiness" of the fandom made Kastoway attempt to "ban" the character from the fandom, allegedly in a jumpy and dickish manner. I personally respect his wish partially. I consider Ticcy a Crossover Character. Alongside these attempts also came a redesign and rewrite of the character that, in my opinion, leaves the "old" version free to appear in this chart and this fandom again. ;) CW// parental abuse, traffic accident, body horror, grave injury, paranoia, misrepresentation of mental illness

Click below to read the original unedited story

The long road home seemed to go on and on. The road continued to stretch in front of the vehicle endlessly. The light that shone through the branches of the tall, green trees danced across the window in random patterns, and every once and a while, obnoxiously shining in your eyes.

The surroundings were full of deep green trees forming a forest around the road. The only sound was the sound of the car’s engine as it traveled down the path. It was peaceful and left a serene feeling. Although the ride seemed like a nice one, it lacked every form of ‘nice’ from its two passengers.

The middle-aged woman behind the steering wheel had neat short brown hair that fit her complexion quite well. She wore a green v-neck T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Diamond stud earrings decorated each of her ears, which partially showed from behind her haircut. She had deep green eyes, which her shirt brought out, and the lighting seemed to make them more noticeable. There wasn’t anything significant about her appearance. She looked like any other ‘average mother’ you would see on TV shows and the like, however, the one thing that made her different than the ‘average mothers’ was the dark bags she had under her eyes. Her facial expression was gloomy and sad, although she genuinely looked like someone who smiled a lot.

She would sniffle every once and a while, and occasionally glance in the rear-view mirror to look at her son in the back seat, who was hunched over partially, with his arms held tight around his chest, and his head pressed against the cold window. The boy lacked any normal appearance, and anyone could plainly see there was something wrong with him. His messy brown hair went every which way, and the luminescent lighting brought out his pale, almost gray skin. His eyes were dark, unlike his mother’s, and he wore a white T-shirt and scrub pants that had been provided for him by the hospital. The clothes he had worn before were so shredded and bloodstained that they weren’t wearable anymore. The right side of his face bared a few cuts along with a split eyebrow. His right arm was bandaged all the way to the shoulder, which had been shredded when his right side hit the shattered glass.

His injuries appeared to be painful, when in reality he couldn’t feel anything. This was just one of the glories of being him. One of the challenges he had to face while growing up was growing up with a rare disease that caused him to be completely numb towards pain. Never before had he felt himself get hurt. He could have lost an arm and felt nothing. The other major disorder he had faced, which was the one that deemed him many insulting nicknames in the short time he attended grade school before he switched to homeschooling, was his Tourette’s Syndrome, which caused him to tick and twitch in ways he couldn’t control. He would crack his neck uncontrollably and twitch every once in a while. The kids would tease him and call him Ticci-Toby, and they mocked him with exaggerated twitching and laughing. It got so bad he had to turn to homeschooling. It was too hard for him to be in a common learning environment with seemingly every kid poking, or more like stabbing, fun at him.

Toby starred blankly out the window, his face empty of any emotion, and every few minutes his shoulder, arm, or foot would twitch. Every bump that the car tires hit would make his stomach turn.

Toby Rogers was the boy’s name and the last time Toby remembered riding in a car was when it crashed.

That’s all he thought about, unconsciously replaying everything he remembered before he blacked out, over and over again.

Toby had been the lucky one; his sister had not been so lucky. When the thought of sister came, he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. The horrible memories replayed in his mind. Her screaming that had cut off when the front of the car was smashed in. It all went blank for a moment before Toby opened his eyes to see his sister’s body, her forehead pierced with glass shards, her hips and legs crushed under the force of the steering wheel, and her torso pushed in from the too late inflated airbag. That was the last thing he had seen of his dear older sister.

The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home because his mom wanted to avoid the sight of the crash. When the surroundings gave way to a familiar neighborhood, they were both more than ready to get out of the car and step back into their own home. It was an older neighborhood with quaint little houses all next to each other. The car drove in front of a blue house with white windowpanes. They both quickly noticed the old vehicle that was parked in front of the house, and the familiar figure that stood in the driveway. Toby felt automatic anger and frustration take over him at the sight of his father. His father who wasn’t there.

His mother pulled the car up in the driveway beside him before turning off the engine and preparing to step out and face her husband.

“Why is he here?” Toby said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door.

“He’s your father Toby, he’s here because he wants to see you.” His mother responded in a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky.

“Yet couldn’t drive up to the hospital to see Lyra before she died,” Toby narrowed his eyes out the window.

“He was drunk that night, honey, he couldn’t drive-”

“Yeah when is he not,” Toby pushed the door open before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father’s gaze before looking down at his feet with a stern expression. His mother stepped out behind him and met her husband’s eyes before walking around the car.

His father opened up his arms, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked past him and put her arm around Toby’s shoulder and started leading him inside.

“Connie,” her husband began in a raspy voice, “What no welcome home hug, huh?”

She ignored her husband’s obnoxious words and walked past him with her son under her arm.

“Hey, he’s sixteen he can walk by himself,” his father began to follow them in. “He’s seventeen,” Connie glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside.

“Toby, why don’t we get you in your room to rest okay? I’ll come get you when dinner is ready-”

“No, I’m sixteen. I can walk by myself,” Toby said sarcastically and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small staircase and turning into his room, where he slammed the door violently.

His little room didn’t have much in it, just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few picture frames of his family, back when they were a family. Before his father became an alcoholic and acted violently toward the rest of his family. Toby remembered when he was arguing with his mom and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the floor, and when Lyra had tried to break it up, he pushed her and she hit her back on the corner of the kitchen counter. Toby could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and sister. Never.

Toby didn’t care how much his father beat him down, he couldn’t feel it anyway, what he did care about was how he intentionally hurt the only two people he cared about. And when he was waiting in the hospital where his sister took her last breaths, the only one who didn’t rush there was his dad.

Toby stood by the window and looked out at the street. He could have sworn he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the meds he was on.

When dinnertime had come and his mother called up to him, Toby came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the table across from his father, and in between his mother and an empty chair. It was quiet as his parents picked at their food but Toby refused to eat. Instead, he just watched his dad with a blank stare. His mother caught on to his staring and elbowed him slightly. Toby looked over at her slightly and then down at his uneaten food, which he still didn’t touch.

Toby laid in be, he pulled his covers over his head and stared at the window. He was tired but there was no way he would fall asleep. He couldn’t, there was too much to think about. He had been debating on whether or not to follow his mother’s directions and forgive his father, or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred.

He heard his door creak open and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her.

“I know it’s hard Toby, trust me, I understand, but I promise you it will get better,” she said softly.

“When is he going to leave?” Toby said with an innocent tone in his shaky voice.

Connie let her gaze fall down to her feet. ” I don’t know honey, he’s staying as far as I know,” she replied.

Toby didn’t respond. He just continued to look forward at the wall, holding his damaged arm near his chest.

After a few minutes of silence, his mother sighed before she leaned in to kiss his cheek and stood up to walk out of the room. “Good night,” she said as she closed the door.

The hours passed slowly, and Toby couldn’t quit tossing and turning. Every time he let his imagination take over, he heard the screeching of tires, the screaming of his sister, and he would uncontrollably jerk in bed. He threw off his cover, and lying on his back, he pulled his pillow over his face and cried into it. He could hear his own pitiful weeping. He would have been screaming and crying if e didn’t press his pillow over his face.

After a few seconds, he threw the pillow off his face and sat up, hunched over, holding his head and breathing roughly, tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn’t help but cry. He tried to keep it in, but he couldn’t stop the whining and whimpering as he sat there shaking. He inhaled before he stood up and walked around his bed to the window and peered out, taking deep breathes trying to calm down. He rubbed his eyes and looked out at the group of tall pine trees across the street.

He stopped suddenly, and his gaze slowly centered on something standing under the street light. He heard ringing in his ears and couldn’t look away. The figure stood beside the streetlight, about two feet shorter than it did, long arms draped at its sides as it stared up at him with non-existing eyes. The figure had no facial features to speak of. No eyes, no mouth, no nose, yet it held Toby’s hypnotized stare, seemingly peering into his very being. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder each second he stared before suddenly it all went black.

The next morning Toby woke in his bed. He felt different. He wasn’t tired at all, and when he consciously woke up, it felt like he had been lying there awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents were sitting at the table, his father was tuned in to the small TV that sat on the counter top, and his mother was reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Toby’s presence looming behind her.

“Well good morning sleepy head, you’ve been sleeping forever,” she greeted him with a hesitant smile. Toby slowly looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30 p.m.

“I made you breakfast but it got cold, I was going to wake you but I felt you needed sleep,” her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her.

“Are you all right?”

Toby stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if he was on idle and had no control over his actions. He was seeing everything he did, but I didn’t register in his brain properly. He reached out to his father’s arm, but his hand ended up getting slapped. His father turned to him abruptly and pushed his chair over whit his foot.

“Don’t touch me, boy!” he yelled.

His mother stood up, “Alright know that off! That is the last thing we need!”

The days went by, and things continued on as they were. Connie spent most of her time cleaning the house, and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just like how it used to be before the crash.

Toby never really left his room. He would sit by his bed and tremble. His mind would wonder, but his thoughts changed too fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal or stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued.

Connie continued to be pushed around by her husband, being way too submissive to him, and Toby remained in his room.

Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his hands, tearing the flesh from his fingers. He would gnaw his hands until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was doing so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid kit, wrapping his hands in bandages. Afterward, she demanded that he wouldn’t leave her side again.

Toby isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He’d start missing memory of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense about things completely unrelated to the conversations he would have. He’d go off about seeing things, sharks in the sink as he washed the dishes; hearing crickets in his pillows, and seeing ghosts outside his bedroom window. His mother grew so anxious about his mental health that she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling.

Connie walked Toby into the building, holding his hand and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it.

“Mrs. Rogers?” The lady asked.

“Yes that’s me,” Connie nodded, “We’re here to see Doctor Oliver, I’m here with Toby Rogers.”

“Yes, right this way,” the lady stood and led them down a long hallway. Toby looked at the framed artwork down the halls and tuned in to the sound of the lady’s high heels on the hardwood floor.

She opened the door to a room with a table and two chairs.

“If we can get him to sit in here for a few minutes, I’ll get the doctor,” she smiled and held the door open.

Toby stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He looked around the room before he held up his tightly bandaged hands and began to bite at the bandages to unwrap his hands, but he was interrupted as the door swung open and a young woman in a black and spotted dress with light blond hair stepped in, holding a clipboard and a pen.

“Toby?” she asked with a smile.

Toby looked up at her and nodded.

“Nice to meet you Toby, my name is Doctor Oliver.” She put her hand out for him to shake by hesitantly pulled away when she noticed his bandaged hands.

“Oh,” she smiled nervously before clearing her throat and sitting in the chair across the table form him.

“So I’m going to ask you a few questions, try to answer them as honestly as possible, okay?” she placed her clipboard down on the table. Toby nodded slowly and held his restrained hands in his lap.

“How old are you, Toby?”

“Seventeen,” he responded quietly.

She wrote that down on the paper that was clipped to the clipboard.

“What is your full name?”

“Toby Aaron Rogers.”

When is your birthday?”

“April 28th.”

“Who is your immediate family?”

Toby paused for a minute before answering her question, “My mom, my dad, and…” he stopped, “M-my sister.”

“I heard about your sister dear…I’m really sorry,” her expression faded into a sad pity-filled look.

Toby nodded.

“Do you remember anything from the crash Toby?”

Toby looked away from her. His mind went blank for a moment. He looked down at his lap, and in the surrounding area, he heard a faint ringing sound. His eyes widened and he froze in place.

“Toby?” the counselor asked.

“Toby are you listening?”

Toby felt a shiver go down his spine until he froze once again and slowly looked over out the little window through the door, where he saw it. A dark featureless figure, peering in at him. He stared, eyes widened, the ringing growing louder and louder until suddenly the loud voice of the counselor broke his trance.

“Toby!” she yelled.

Toby jumped and fell sideways out of his chair and backed up into the corner.

Doctor Oliver stood up, holding her clipboard to her chest. A surprised look in her eyes.

Toby met her eyes again, his breath hitching as he twitched.

That night Toby lay in bed. His eyes were dazed as he stared straight up at his ceiling. He could feel himself begin to doze off when he heard the scattering of footsteps down his hallway. He sat up and looked towards the doorway, his door wide open. There was no light everything was lit by the luminescent blue glow of the moon through his window, leaving a cold lighting. He stood up and slowly made his way toward the doorway when suddenly the door, which previously was wide open, slammed in his face. He gasped and fell back.

He was out of breath when he hit the ground and he began breathing heavily, his eyes wide open. He waited for a few seconds before getting back on his feet. He reached out and grasped the cold door handle with his bandaged had and it creaked open. He looked out into the dark hallway and tiptoed out of his room. The window at the end of the hallway lit up the darkness with blue moonlight as he padded his way down. He could hear footsteps rustling around him, and faint giggling followed by the pitter patter of small feet, which sounded like a child had run in front of him, giggling and running around. The hallway was a lot longer than he remembered. It seemed endless…like the ride home from the hospital. He heard the door creak in front of him.

“Mom?” he called in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a door slammed behind him and he jumped and turned around. Behind him, he heard a long eerie groan that sounded like croak right in his ear. He turned around as fast as he could and was suddenly face to face with none other than his dead sister. Her eyes were clouded white, her skin pale, the right side of her jaw dangling there by tissue and muscle, glass protruding from her forehead, black blood leaking down her face, her blonde hair pulled up in a pony-tail as it always was, and she was wearing her grey t-shirt and athlete shorts, which were dirty and spotted with blood. Her legs were bent in ways they shouldn’t be. She stood emitting a long croaking noise only an inch away from Toby’s face.

Toby yelped and fell back.

“AH!” He started to crawl backward away from her, but he was unable to break the eye contact he held with her blank, dead eyes. He dragged himself backward until he backed up into something.

He stopped for a second. Everything was dead silent except for his heavy breathing and crying. He slowly looked up to meet the blank face of a tall dark figure, the same figure that stood over him now. Behind the tall dark mass were rows of children looking to range from three to ten years old, their eyes completely black and dark black blood leaked from their eye sockets.

He screamed and stood up as fast as he could only to be tripped by dark black tendrils that wrapped around his ankle. He fell straight on his stomach and got the wind knocked out of him. He tried to scream but he couldn’t make a sound. He wheezed out before it all went black.

Toby woke with a start. He screamed out and sat up as fast as he could, completely short of breath. He wheezed out and held his chest with his bandaged hands. It was just a dream….just a dream. He lay back down on his bed and rolled over on his side. It felt like against weight had been lifted off his chest as he took in deep breaths. He stood up and padded over to his window. He saw nothing. Nobody was out there. No ghosts, no figures, nothing.

He heard the rustling and coughing of his father outside the doorway. His door was closed.

He walked over and opened it. Looking out into the hallway once again, he padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where he found his dad standing and having a smoke in their living room. Toby waited for a second and watched him from around the corner before a burning feeling started deep in his chest.

Deep boiling anger overtook him. He heard the little imaginary voices in his head.

“Do it, Do it, Do it,” they chanted.

He turned away and held his arms. He felt like he actually had control over himself, unlike he did for the past few weeks since he got home from the hospital. He actually had complete thoughts for just moments before the chanting of the little voices in his head clouded them.

“Kill him, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there, kill him, kill him,” they continued on. Toby trembled. No. No, he wasn’t going to do it. What, was he going crazy? No. He won’t kill anyone. He can’t. He hated his father, but there was no way he was going to kill him.

That was it, the last thought he had before he fell into an idle state once again. The influence of the voices in his head was too much. He began to silently walk up behind his father. He reached over the counter to the knife in the case. He gripped it in his hand. He felt the sensation take over his chest. He let out a snicker.

“Heh… heheh… hehehehehe! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” he began laughing so hard he had to gasp for breath. His father turned around abruptly before he felt a brute force shove him to the floor. He grunted as the air was knocked out of him.

“What!” he looked up at the boy who stood over him, grasping the kitchen knife in his hand.

“Toby, what are you doing?” he went to sit up and put his arms out in front of him in self-defense but before he knew it Toby was on top of him. He went to grab his neck, but his father reached out and blocked his hand by grabbing onto his wrist.

“Stop! Get off of me, you little fucker!” he yelled and with his other hand he threw an off-center punch towards Toby’s shoulder, but he didn’t stop.

The look in Toby’s eyes was not sane. It looked as if a demon had taken control of him. He yelled back and went to stab the knife into his father’s chest, but his father blocked him and grabbed onto his wrist once again. He went shove him back, but Toby kicked his feet out in front of him and landed a hard blow straight to his father’s face. His father recoiled and pulled his arms away to cuff his face, but Toby got back up and drove the knife straight into his shoulder.

His father let out a loud cry and went to pull the knife out, but before he could, Toby threw his fist straight into his face.

He began to pound his fists into his head, laughing and wheezing. He cracked his neck and grabbed the knife and ripped it out of his father’s shoulder. He drove it deep into his dad’s chest and repeatedly stabbed into his torso, blood spilling out and getting splattered everywhere. He didn’t stop until his father’s body went still. He threw the knife over to the side and leaned over his body, coughing and panting. He stared at his father’s smashed-in face and sat there twitching until a loud scream broke the silence. He looked over to see his mother standing a few feet away, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

“Toby!” she screamed, “Why did you do that?” she cried.

“W-why!?” she screamed.

Toby stood up and began to back away from his father’s bloody corpse. He began to back out of the kitchen. He looked down at the blood-soaked bandages on his hands and looked up at his mother one last time before he turned and ran out of the house. He ran into the garage and slammed his hand against the control panel on the wall and pushed the button to open the garage door. Before he ran out, he noticed his father’s hatchets, which had been hanging on the tool rack above a table full of jars filled to the brim with old rusted nails and screws.

One of the hatchets was new, it had a bright orange handle and a shiny blade, and the other was old with a wooden handle and an old, dull blade. He grabbed both and looked down at the table and he saw a box of matches, and under the table was a red gasoline tank. He held both of the hatchets in one hand and grabbed to matches and gasoline before running out of the garage, down the driveway and up the street. As he approached the streetlight that he could see out his own bedroom window, he heard police sirens in the distance.

He turned around and the red and blue flashing lights came rushing down the street. Toby stood for a second before he pulled open the cap on the gasoline tank and ran down the street, spilling gasoline all over the street after him. He turned and ran into the trees. He poured the last bit of gasoline out before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a match. He struck it against the box and immediately dropped it. In an instant, flames burst around him. The fire caught on the trees and bushes around him and before he knew it, he was surrounded by fire. The silhouettes of police cars were visible through the flames as he backed away into the forest around him. He looked around but his vision was blurred, his heart was pounding, and he closed his eyes for a moment. This was it. This was the end.

Toby felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked over to see a large white hand with long boney fingers resting on his shoulder. He followed the arm that was attached to the hand up to a dark, towering figure.

It appeared to be wearing a dark black suit, and its face was completely blank. It towered over Toby’s small frame as it looked down on him. Tendrils reached out from its back. Before Toby knew it, his vision blurred and he heard the sound of ringing in his ears. Everything went blank.

That was it. That was the end. That was how Toby Rogers died.

A few weeks later, Connie sat in her sister’s kitchen. His sister, Lori, sat next to her drinking a cup of coffee.

About three weeks ago, Connie lost her husband and her son, and a few weeks before, she had lost her daughter to a car crash. Since then she moved in with her sister. The police were keeping her busy, they had just finished cleaning up the case, and the story had been released two weeks ago. The focus of the world seemed to have shifted to completely new stories.

Lori switched the TV on to a news broadcast. On the TV the news reporter began introducing the new headline.

“We have breaking news! Last night there have been reported the murder of four individuals. There are no suspects yet, but the victims were a group of middle school kids who had been out in the woods late last night. The kids had been bludgeoned and stabbed to death. The investigators have discovered a weapon at the crime scene. It appears to be an old, dull-blade hatchet, as you can see here.”

The picture changed to show snapshots of the weapon exactly as it was left at the crime scene.

“Investigators have pulled the name of a possible suspect, Toby Rogers, a seventeen-year-old boy who stabbed his father to death a few weeks ago and tried to cover up his escape by setting a fire in the streets and forest area around the neighborhood. Although they believed the young boy had died in the fire, investigators suspect Rogers might still be alive, due to the fact that his body was never found.”

#ticci toby #creepypasta #jeff the killer #fanfiction #jtk #horror #story #crossover

16 notes · View notes

amelia201 · 2 years

Text

SWANQUEEN !!!!!!! but a bit cursed

okay but look, season 1 of Once Upon a Time is the best BESAUSE you, as a watcher, is still not sure if the quote on quote flashbacks are real. I much more fuck with an idea the Henry is just a mentally ill child, and none of the magic stuff is real.

Emma IS a woman who gave up her child, to have him luckily being raised by a mayor of this tiny city.

but a woman IS a single mother, who raised her son alone, with no guidance, until he ran away.

and than this RANDOM woman shows up, who annoys you SO MUCH, because she GAVE UP her kid, YOUR kid, the one you spent years raising, the one you love you love and would burn the world to the Earth for.., and you don’t even realise how much you’ve changed.

Because of course you are still capable of unconditional love. You soul is not dead. It’s merely asleep.

Nobody has ever loved you. Yeah, maybe they thought they have, and maybe they loved you then, but nothing EVER has been ever to compare to this.

Both you love the same person. YOUR child. You raised him. She birthed him. and both of you will burn the world, and the planets, and every single person who exists on the slowest fire in existence if it meant that Henry was safe. That he was okay.

Even if he is the only person in the world, you would...

You look back from mirror and find your own miserable eyes. How nice that all of this was a fantasy, right? in the dream, your Queen was by your side.

Every

Step

Of the way.

And that is how you know you are in love,

FuuuuCK.

#swan queen #once upon a time #swanqueen #idk what this is i drink #i drink #bro #hahahhahaha #but also #i stand by all of this

3 notes · View notes

deldeldel90 · 2 years

Text

TW for: self-hatred, mental illness, angst, some disturbing imagry (i think).

Leelathae was sick. Not in the physical way, not quite.

She's been this way since she was a child, rolling onto her back in the sand, noticing the way her skin took differently to it. It wasn't that bad, though, for everybody looked like her.

It was just a mild case of glancing too hard in the mirror, staring into her eyes, wondering if she'd be prettier with her skull cracked open.

But that was crazy talk, she'd never want something like that. They weren't her thoughts, no, they were somebody else's that managed to crawl into her mind.

Leelathae was just like the other kids on the island. Normal, breathing children who played too much in the grass, and stumble too far in the water.

She didn't think like that - no, no, no! She was a normal girl - her parents' only daughter, her art teacher's star student, she was the stars, the moon, and everything above.

Leelathae was important in other people's lives without even wanting to be - what was a blessing quickly became a curse, as she took the hand of the pastel man, and came to his kingdom.

Leaving her mother weeping pitifully, and her father disappointed.

Leaving her art teaching sighing, promising that they'd meet again.

Leaving the sky downtrodden and crying viciously, trees slashing against their will, flooding the ground, for their mermaid had left, and there was no worse thing.

Twas that day, she made the worst mistake of her damned life, and she went like a prisoner unknowingly planning their own execution.

Everyday, the whispers become more, it all becomes too much.

Some would say she was vain, staring into her own reflection for hours at a time, never blinking, even when it was clear it burned, and the whites of her eyes turned a light red.

She pushed her cheek up, tilting her head forward. It was too shallow, too thin.

Leelathae did not look like the citizens of the Pastel Kingdom. They were full of life, clear to the fact that they never had to miss out on meals, dressed in pretty colors that matched their pretty appearances.

Apparently, she had a more 'somber' look to her.

That wasn't a good thing, no matter how much that maid tried to make it out to be.

Sad. Dark. Scary. Unhappy. Pretentious. Ugly.

Those were all the words she heard before, all describing her with the fondness of a wet, unwanted dog.

Leelathae never looked at herself, she examined every crease in her face, every bumpy spot, every single thing wrong with her.

Did everybody do this? Perhaps it was normal to want to change yourself, to run your fingers by your stomach every morning, trying to feel what changed.

Leelathae hated mirrors, but she couldn't stay away from them.

"Your Majesty?" The maid entered her bedroom, "dinner is ready. King Jack is awaiting you."

"I'm not hungry," she said softly, never even caring to glance over her shoulder. Leelathae leaned further into her reflection, nose touching the cold surface.

The maid didn't say anything. She was one of the kind ones, never commenting on how Leelathae looked.

She left, her slippered feet making little noise.

Leelathae didn't hear her enter the room yet again, how she so carefully carried a tray, her rather sad expression.

"Uhm…" the maid tapped her shoulder, forcing her out of her trance. "Please, this is m-my lunch. I know you said not to, and I know I cannot disobey-"

"It's fine," she took the tray from the maid's hands, setting it down on her bed. "I'll eat, and I'm not royalty. Not quite until the wedding."

The maid did not say anything, she, instead, looked at Leelathae expectantly.

'Damn you!' She snapped inside her head, 'you kind woman, but can't you just stop? Why are you so friendly?!'

Leelathae swallowed down hard, looking at the bowl of soup.

"Thank you…?" she trailed off, not knowing who exactly this servant was. She never bothered to learn their names.

"Molly," the maid supplied. "My name is Molly."

#cursed princess club #cross posted on ao3 #cpc angst #cpc leelathae

4 notes · View notes

katnisscarter · 2 months

Text

Self image and self worth and self love blah blah blah man I’m tired of that shit. Honestly. Time is an illusion that seems to make sense to other people and never to me. I think the same thoughts I did at 15. I avoid the mirror when I’m naked just like I did at 16. And 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. You get the point. I look at my side profile and have to blink back tears. every. Single. Time.

I can’t handle other people taking my picture it absolutely sends me into a fucking panic attack. I never look right.

I stare at my face so long I don’t understand what I’m looking at anymore. Which, to be fair, I don’t really recognize her anyways. All I know is the same thoughts that plagued me then ruminate in my head making cozy homes of the corners.

I could tell you 100 things wrong with my body before I could tell you one thing right. And I get it. It’s not about me if you want to lose weight and work on yourself. I know that logically. You tell me the way you talk about yourself doesn’t apply to me. But I hear the way you say fat. I hear the way you say worthless. I hear the way you say ugly. How does that not apply to me too? I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life right now and you can’t seem to escape the feeling of fat fast enough. How does that not affect me. You can work out. I fucking pull my shoulder at work six months ago and it’s still injured. My fucking wrist stops working if I do repetative motion too long. I can’t even hand write very fucking long anymore because it hurts. If I fucking sit for too long it hurts. If I stand for too long it hurts. It literally hurts to just walk the first time after sleeping a normal 8hrs like everyone else.

I remember the first time I cried in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, begging myself to just throw up the food. I was 14. It sounds silly though, doesn’t it? That’s a kid. She’s just a baby. Why do I find myself 11 years later doing the same fucking thing. Even though it’s been years I still find myself staring at my naked body in the mirror and my eyes glance to the razor sitting in the shower. Force of habit I guess.

Like listen I understand that men have body issues too. I’m not denying that. I’m not saying hey you weren’t bullied too. But why is being thin so tied into being a woman. Like I don’t want to minimize your feelings but because im not skinny or slim in the right areas it’s like I’m less of a woman.

I guess maybe that’s what I’m struggling with. Feeling like a woman. I picked a pretty womanly profession though. Being a nurse is traditionally seen as a woman’s job. It includes being a nurse, a waitress, a maid, a therapist. It includes getting screamed at by patients and told you’re a fucking idiot. It includes being pinched or spit on or bit or called fat bitch but you just stand there because they’re confused, they don’t mean it.

Were those girls confused when they’d run away from me at 8 years old on the playground because I couldn’t keep up? Were those boys confused when they got their friend to ask me out as a prank in middle school? Was the girl who was my best friend who later wasn’t just confused when she told me I should kill myself because the world would be better off? Or that I was a cow. Was the 17 year old boy I let see me naked for the first time just confused when he turned away and left the room like I was too hideous to look at?

Maybe it’s because I spent so long picking myself apart when he cheated on me. I spent months trying to figure it out. What was wrong with me? A question I’d been asking for years. Was I not pretty enough? Were my boobs too small? Was my tummy too big? Was my laugh too loud? Was I too stupid? Was I too mentally ill? Was I crazy? I can’t seem to find the answer. No matter how hard I look.

Even now, with a partner who loves me so much. I still don’t feel right. There IS something wrong with me. Just no one in my life sees it right now. But other people have. She did. He did. He saw every ugly cracked piece of me and it was too much. Too much. Too much.

I just feel like I’m waiting for the day he comes home and tells me it’s too much. I’m too much. I’m too fat. I’m too ugly. I’m too stupid. I’m too sick. I’m too mentally ill. I’m too anxious. I’m too depressed. I’m too self conscious. I’m too sad. I’m too loud. I’m too weird. I’m too much to take care of. The day will come and I don’t think I can survive it. So I just don’t let anyone in anymore. It’s like I locked the door and threw away the key. I opened myself up to you completely and you ripped everything off the walls telling me it’s not enough, so now no one gets to see.

I look at old pictures sometimes. She has the prettiest smile. Shes so beautiful. She’s so happy. There’s a naivety in her youth. She doesn’t know what will happen. I yearn to be her again. To not know those things. To not feel entirely disconnected from myself. To feel like I can connect with people around me again. She looks so happy. She was happy to be with you. You look happy too you know. Your smile looks genuine. Bright. It travels all the way to your eyes. It’s like I can hear them laughing just in the other room. It’s warm.

But they’re not. Youre not here. She’s not here. It’s not what happened. And I guess that’s hard to explain to anyone in my life now. How that not being the reality hurts me so much. Not one fucking person understands it. I’ve just stopped talking about it. All anyone does is talk about the bad stuff. Or just tell me about how great my relationship now is. Which it is, i love him very much. But I can’t help to not look back. I can’t help to not look behind me. To wonder what that would have been. To wonder how they’d be living.

Everyone says to give it time. Time heals all wounds or whatever bullshit is in the self help books. Which I guess it does in some things. But it’s like there’s such a clear before and after. Before everything went to shit. And so much of what happened shook every single thing I knew about myself. Every single thing I was, just taken away from me. So that loss of innocence and loss of my first love is so intertwined I can’t help but feel like i want to go back sometimes. But I don’t know if I want you back so much as I want myself back. Because after you left I was so awful to myself it was new lows I didn’t know I could go. I want the naivety back. I want the belief that everything will be okay in the end back. I guess I just want hope back.

I just wish someone understood me. I just want someone to understand me like you did. To not get mad or judge me.

I just want someone to understand.

0 notes

reminiscingtonight · 3 years

Text

Extra Ticket

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Implied illness. Major angst. You’ve been warned

A/N: It’s that time again. Another @vancityfire13 prompt challenge :)

The day you successfully asked Natasha out on a date was the best day of your life.

You had always had a little crush on her ever since your first day on the team. Tony had thrown a party to celebrate your addition to the team, and when your eyes met from across the room, you were an instant goner. You nearly fell down the stairs in a love-induced haze, but Tony’s quick reaction ensured that you didn’t meet a sudden death.

Your friendship didn’t officially begin until a couple days later, but you’d like to think that a spark of it began that night when she pulled a handsy drunk off of you. She had given you a soft smile before leading you back to your room per your request. When you began shaking, Natasha didn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders.

She never asked for it back.

You began as sparring partners, but from there, your friendship only grew. Soon the two of you were hanging out during most of your free time. You had worried that you were being too clingy, but Natasha never once complained so you took solace in the idea that she enjoyed your company as well.

The only issue about being friends with the redhead was the fact that you wanted to be something more. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings. Every slight brush of your hands or every backhanded compliment only served to make you fall faster and harder.

It wasn’t until you heard that the carnival was in town that you came up with a plan to do something about your feelings. You bought two tickets, fully intending to ask Natasha out.

The night of the carnival, you pulled on your favorite shirt, lucky shoes, and Natasha’s jacket. Looking at yourself in the mirror you took a deep breath. You could do it. How hard would it be to ask an ex-assassin out?

Turns out the answer was ‘very hard.’

The longer you stood in front of Natasha’s door, the less confidence you had, and soon all of your nerves flowed away. With your head hung low on your shoulders, you made your way to the elevator, dateless.

It was only by pure luck that you ran into the woman on your mind on your way out.

“Going somewhere?”

You blink, not sure if you were imagining the way Natasha was eyeing your outfit. “The carnival’s in town so I was thinking about checking it out.”

Natasha chews on her bottom lip, nodding along to your words. “Oh, yes, I heard that they were in town. Personally I’ve never gone before but I’ve heard nothing but good things about it.”

You pause, not sure if you had heard her right. “You’ve never been to a carnival before?”

Natasha gives you an amused look at your question.

Who were you kidding. This was Natasha Romanoff you were talking about. When would she ever have the time to go?

Finding some of your lost confidence, you flash her a sheepish smile. “I just… I have an extra ticket.”

Natasha cocks her eyebrow at you, intrigued by the direction this conversation was heading.

“Would you like to go with me?”

You could see a slight child-like glee sparkle in her eyes. “Sure, I’d love to. Give me a couple minutes to get changed.”

Your face breaks out into a smile that matched the one on her face.

You were mentally giving yourself a high five when you mind suddenly screamed at you to call Natasha back. Did Natasha think this was two friends going to a carnival together? Or did she think it was a date? The further she walked away, the louder the questions rang in your mind.

She had nearly disappeared from view when you finally blurted out the words. “As a date!”

Natasha spins around at your sudden outburst and if you weren’t red from embarrassment before, you definitely were now.

“I… you’re a great friend and all, but I… I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me to the carnival. As a date.”

There’s an unreadable expression on her face as she takes in your words. You find yourself frozen in your spot as she saunters back up to you.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed when she leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. When she pulls away, there’s a twinkle in her eyes. “That’s what I had assumed. Pick me up in 15?”

---

You learned a lot of things about Natasha once the two of you started dating.

The first thing you learned about your lover: Natasha always had cold feet. Normally the solution to this would be something simple---wear socks. But it seemed like Natasha had something vehemently against wearing socks. It didn’t matter whether or not the two of you were lounging around your floor in your downtime or if the two of you were relaxing in bed. She just refused to wear socks. More than a couple times you found yourself waking in the middle of the night to cold feet pressed against your calves in an effort to warm themselves. You’d always stumble out of bed to slip some on for her.

The first time this happened, Natasha woke in the morning with a frown of confusion on her face. “Where did these come from?”

You barely gave her wiggling feet a glance. “Last night your feet were really cold, so I found some of your socks and put them on you.”

“Why?” If you didn’t know better you would have laughed at the slight whine in her voice.

“Because your feet were cold. And I didn’t want you to get sick.”

You finally look up when Natasha lets out another petulant sigh. “Why would I need socks when I have a human furnace like you?”

The second thing you learned about Natasha: she was a huge fan of your hugs. Of course you knew that she loved physical affection back before the two of you started dating. But it wasn’t until after that you realized the extent of how much she enjoyed it.

It had began as a joke. Clint had bet you five bucks that you couldn’t get Natasha to want to get out of one of your hugs.

So you took him up on his challenge.

The entire day you stayed glued to Natasha’s side, always managing to keep your arms around her body. To your disappointment, the tighter you pulled your arms, the more Natasha snuggled deeper into them. No matter what you did you could never get her to complain or wiggle out of your grasp.

When the day ended, you paid Clint his money in pennies.

The frown on his face was almost enough to wipe away the sting of defeat.

Later that night when you’re laying in bed, Natasha hooked her legs around yours, turning herself so she could lay across your body. You grunted under the additional weight in surprise, but soon relaxed into the new position without any problems.

You were just about to doze off when Natasha’s voice cut through the air. “Was there a reason why you were trying to crush me in your arms today?”

Your eyes shoot open, face flushing red in embarrassment over getting called out.

With her piercing gaze locked onto yours, you mumbled out a very incoherent answer. A part of you hoped that she would just accept your mumblings and move on. But it seemed like luck was not on your side tonight. It wasn’t until Natasha began digging her fingers into your sides that you broke and told her about the bet.

Your embarrassment quickly washed away when Natasha kissed your pout away.

“It doesn’t matter how hard you hold me. I’ll always love your hugs.”

And Natasha always did. So maybe that’s why you should have said something the first time you noticed her flinch away from your arms.

But you listened to her when she told you it was nothing.

---

A couple more months pass.

You propose.

She accepts.

You get married on a snowy December day.

---

The day Natasha woke up with a nosebleed was the day everything came to a halt.

She waved you off at first. “It’s just a simple nosebleed. I’ll be fine. It’ll stop soon.”

It didn’t.

You took her to the hospital.

They gave her medicine to make it stop.

“It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing.

Natasha held your hand tight when you broke down over the blood tests.

---

You were sitting on the couch together the first time Natasha broke down.

The two of you were watching some TV while you absentmindedly played with her hair. She hummed under your ministrations, leaning closer to your hands. You could tell by her sluggish movements that she was on the verge of falling asleep.

You run your fingers through her hair, thoroughly giving her a massage when you suddenly freeze.

The stall in movement caused her eyes to flutter open. Natasha turned in your arms to see you staring down at a piece of red hair tangled in your fingers.

Her eyes widen in horror when she realizes where it came from.

You’re quick to pull her up and tuck her against your body before she can raise her hands to her hair. She grips your arms like a lifeline, tears soaking your collarbone.

You swallow your own tears as she cries for everything she’s losing.

---

You were getting ready for a quick soak in the tub the first time Natasha tried to escape your arms.

You let go in surprise when Natasha winced under the pressure of your hug.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You shake your head, ignoring the guilty expression on her face. “It’s fine.”

You plant a kiss on her forehead. “You’re allowed to hurt.”

You help her settle down in the tub. “I love you.”

Briefly you remembered the day she flinched in your arms all those months ago. You couldn’t stop the traitorous whispers from floating around in your mind. How could you have missed an early sign like that?

---

“Hey love.”

Natasha mutters out a response when you pull her out of her slumber. Although it was probably some unintelligible version of ‘fuck off,’ it still made you smile.

“Last night your feet were really cold, so I found some of your socks and put them on for you.”

You could see her lips tick upward at the familiar words.

“I’m off to work now. But Steve should be by later to visit.”

She nods, weak hands reaching out to grab yours.

“I love you,” she whispers out. These days she didn’t seem to have enough energy to even speak at full volume.

“I love you too.”

You get ready to get up. But then you pause.

Natasha cracks open an eye to look up at your figure.

“I heard the carnival was in town.”

She cocks an eyebrow at you, another smile playing on her lips.

“When you get better we’ll go to the carnival to celebrate, okay?”

Your only response was a light hum.

---

When the day came, you made sure to keep the extra ticket in your pocket.

From the moment you got dressed to the moment you walked into the room, you carried it with you.

“I have an extra ticket.” Your words ring out in the air.

You had an extra ticket.

But this time you had no one to go with.

----------

The prompts/dialogues come from:

@50-item-writing-prompts’s list:

13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

49. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

@emswritingprompts’s list:

12. “I have an extra ticket… Would you like to go with me?”

49. “Last night your feet were really cold, so I found some of your socks and put them on you.”

----------

Taglist: @olsensnpm, @invictusbabey, @idek-5, @vancityfire13, @magicallymaximoff, @lostandsearching, @xxromanoffxx, @ithoughtyouweresokovian, @3and30aresoultwins, @peabrain112, @cantcontroltheirfear, @daniescady

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #mcu x reader #oneshot #tw: character death #Ace writes

532 notes · View notes

emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

416 notes · View notes

inkmemes · 3 years

Text

futurama ( 1999 - 2013 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the animated science fiction show. alter as you see fit ♡

“let's get the hell out of here already! screw history!”

“when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.”

“you have to use a light touch, like a safecracker or a pickpocket.”

"stop! the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"she's stuck in an infinite loop and he's an idiot. that's love for you."

"all i know is my gut says maybe."

“i've never seen a super nova blow up. but if it's anything like my old chevy nova, it'll light up the night sky!”

"every christmas my mom would get a fresh goose, for goose-burgers, and my dad would whip up special eggnog out of bourbon and ice cubes."

"what do i look like, a guy who's not lazy?"

“is heaven missing an angel, cuz you've got nice cans!”

“help! a guinea pig tricked me!"

"[name], if i said you said you had a beautiful body, would you take your pants off and dance around a little."

"drugs are for weirdos and hypnosis is for weirdos with big eyebrows."

"[name], it would never work between us. you're a man, and i'm a woman. we're just too different."

“screw you, ill have my own contest. with black jack ... and hookers. forget the contest.”

“ah, she's built like a steakhouse but she handles like a bistro.”

"spare me your space age techno babble, [name].”

"it's sort of a two person pyramid scheme."

"i don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"you were doing well, until everyone died."

“if we hit that bullseye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. checkmate.”

“i am the man with no name. [muse name], at your service.”

“in the game of chess, you can never let your adversary see your pieces.”

"this is the worst kind of discrimination, the kind against me."

"you watched it... you can't unwatch it."

“valentine’s day is coming? aw crap! i forgot to get a girlfriend again!”

"hold on to your dookie, it’s about to get spooky!"

"i'm tired of this room and everyone in it."

"i'm so embarrassed. i wish everyone else was dead."

"you can't just have your characters announce how they feel! that makes me feel angry!"

"i don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."

"if, for any reason you're not satisfied, i hate you."

"that young man fills me with hope. plus some other emotions which are weird and deeply confusing."

"i've dreamed about you a lot since you disappeared. what did you want to tell me?"

"what do you think the meaning of life was anyway?"

“you're a pimple on society's ass and you'll never amount to anything!”

“life and death are a seamless continuum.”

“if anyone wants me, i'll be in the angry dome.”

“and the worst part is, i had to have the breakup sex by myself!”

“they said i was dumb, but i proved them.”

“what's the point of living if i can't say ass?”

“i'll be stuffing coal so far down your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds!”

“we're all pawns in his diabolical game of checkers.”

"wait, i'm having one of those things, a headache, with pictures!"

“sorry, i didn't realize i was already here.”

"guess what you're an accessory to!"

"why does ross, the largest friend, not simply eat the other friends?"

“there's no scientific consensus that life is important.”

"we cooked our shoes in the dryer and ate them! now we're bored!"

“i'm just as important as him. it's just that, the kind of importance i have ... it doesn't matter if i don't do it.”

“oh what a foolish squid i’ve been.”

“my instinct is to hide in this barrel, like the wily fish.”

"that was bad, and you should feel bad!"

"technically correct - the best kind of correct!"

"and here is where i keep my assorted lengths of wire!"

"oh wait, you are serious! let me laugh even harder!"

"i gotta practice my stabbing!"

"that's the saltiest thing i've ever tasted! and i once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!"

“i apologize for nothing!”

"die young and leave a beautiful corpse! that's what i always say."

"here's to another lousy millennium."

“but i am already in my pajamas.”

“windmills do not work that way. goodnight.”

"you win again gravity."

"when push comes to shove, you got to do what you love, even if it's not a good idea.”

“but existing's basically all i do!”

“when will the killing end?"

"i'll be whatever i want to do."

"the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention. now that. is. irony."

"could you ask a little more sexfully?"

"hooray! i'm useful!"

"awesome. awesome to the max."

"some breaking occurred, the dolly was involved, that's about all we know."

“you want me to do two things?”

i love stealin', i love takin' things!

“i believe that qualifies as ill. at least from a technical standpoint.”

"that was the old me. he's dead now."

"jail ain't so bad; you can make sangria in the toilet. ‘course, it's shank or be shanked."

"one word. thundercougarfalconbird."

"of all my friends, you're the first."

“girls like swarms of lizards, right?”

“i lost it. in a volcano.”

"i'm gonna get you so many lizards!"

"who needs courage when you have a gun?"

“let's go! i've got jelly in my underpants!”

"interesting if true."

“i did do the nasty in the pasty!”

"something tells me i could easily beat those trained professionals."

"the two of you are good friends? but i thought we would be good friends!"

"it's like a party in my mouth, except everyone's throwing up."

“i'm shocked. shocked! well, not that shocked.”

“it's me! no one else look in this mirror!"

“you ever think you only like girls cause you're supposed to?”

"we don't gotta put up with this! we got poli sci degrees."

“sorry, i suffer from a very sexy learning disorder.”

“did somebody say something about a free hot meal?”

“you gotta do what you gotta do.”

"too many bones? not enough cash?"

“hey sexy mama, wanna kill all humans?”

"i don't know how you did that."

"the butter in my pocket is melting!"

"well ... first i got up and had a piece of toast ..."

“i can't wait til i'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

“interesting! no ... wait ... the other thing. tedious.”

"i knew you come crawling back, like a bird on its belly!"

“we both know you won't make it halfway before the craving sets in! then you'll come crawling back for another taste of sweet sweet candy. bam!"

“indeed so, most indeededly.”

"and by metaphorically, i mean get your coat."

“[vehicle]'s ready except for this cup holder, and i should have that done in 12 hours."

"stop. stop! i will destroy you." [ bonus if the receiver is doing something mundane to sender ]

“just make a simple cake. and this time, if someone's going to jump out of it, make sure to put them in after you cook it.”

“lies, lies and slander!”

“you raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir!”

“but going through a divorce together, you can't pretend that didn't bring us closer together.”

“when you say the human body is the most efficient thing to use as a battery, wouldn't anything make a better battery? like a potato? or a battery?”

“i'll have you know that i bejazzle my own underpants!”

“i'm sorry you had to see that, [name], usually i let my sadness fester quietly inside as a mental illness.”

“i'm not drunk, i'm mentally ill! but i agree with what, what you said.”

“this is a cool way to die!”

#rp meme #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters

236 notes · View notes

peakyxtommy · 3 years

Text

Better Days - Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark/Hurt/Comfort/Sad Fic/Slight Fluff

WC: 3.1K

Summary: Reader is having a bad time & Tommy comforts her

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

It was another morning of waking up with the weight of the world on your chest. The heavy feeling of dread, as if you were walking around with a cement block in the middle of your heart. A day where rolling around to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers over your head seemed better than leaving to the outside world. Staying under the covers had the illusion to block out the light, to block out the pain you felt deep within you. A sadness that seemed to linger, never leaving your side. A continuous cycle, that seemed to never end. Always ready to swallow you whole, but never knowing when it would come. A monster in the closet, always lurking, searching for ways to collide right into you at the worst times possible.

When your feet collide on the cold wooden floor to carry yourself to the bathroom, to start with the routine of your morning, you already knew what kind of day it was going to be. Of mentally checking off the list of tasks to get you from one step to another. You try not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, afraid to look into your eyes. Eyes that held so much pain and sorrow, eyes that have seen enough heartache. Eyes that have seen joy and happiness, wondering how you could feel the bittersweetness of both sides.

Once dressed and partially fed for the day you continue on through the notions of the day. Repeating the words back to yourself, to feel a sense of quiet, that you were actually going to make it through the day. The long hours of repetitive activity and small conversation with those that you encounter through the day. Masking who you are, pretending that things are okay as they seem. Feeling more energy suck out of you as the hours float on by. Your mind becomes bogged down like a boat in a storm on a foggy night in need of a lighthouse to guide it back safe to shore.

Minding counting down the hours until you could return home and hide. Hide from the world, your problems, and from the one you loved deeply. Shamed and guilt ridden to share the thoughts that held your mind captive on a loop, like a personal tape, running endlessly inside you. The tape that recounted every wrong, every lie, every misstep you have taken.

As soon as you stepped through the door and had your final conversation of the day thus far with Mary, it felt like a small win. You go and find comfort in the darkness and the burrow of blankets on your bed, surrounded by the warmth and love you so desperately craved, wanted to feel. Hoping the pieces would form back together again.

“Mary, have you seen (Y/N)?” Tommy asks as he comes through the door, placing his coat on the rack. You were usually out in the open when he came in early reading on the couch or in your craft room.

“She’s upstairs, lying down Sir.” The woman speaks with a soft tone.

“Is she feeling ill?” He questions with raised brows as it was still early in the evening.

“I think so Sir, she hasn’t eaten much these past few days. I went up a while ago to check on her but she’s sleeping, she’s been out for a while.”

“Thank you Mary, I’ll handle it from here.” He speaks ushering the maid off and heading toward the stairs. He was cursing himself internally for not noticing your emotional state sooner. That’s how he found you, when he creaks open the door. Your frame huddled under the covers, facing toward his side of the bed, with the small lamp by the bedside on.

He reaches the side of your bed, he sees the remnant of wet tears on your face. He takes a seat on the bed, hand reaching out to gently rub your arm to awake you from your slumber.

“Love, I’m home. Time to get up.” He whispers as you awaken to his voice and comforting touch.

“‘Hi Tommy.” You whisper back with a small smile. A smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“How was your day?” He says in a low tone, noticing the way your eyes close for a moment and the pout that appears on your face.

“Not good.” Is the only response that leaves your still pouting lips. It hurts and silently frustrates him that you two are the same in this regard but you are still the better of the two when it comes to others. Internally when you are struggling you're just as bad as him but in the opposite of taking it out on yourself and your body instead of the booze and smokes. He had gotten better than the first few months of your relationship of knowing when you were getting sad and things weren’t going good.

“Do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?” He asks in a gentle manner not wanting to badger you but would if you didn’t speak the truth before you went to bed. He knew you always needed space when you were upset and then would let him in. The blue eyes that look so soft in this moment stare into yours with concern and worry. It hurt knowing you were hurting him in this way by remaining silent. You didn’t know why you’d do this still to this day and even as long as you two have been together. You were independent, strong, and prideful at times, but were the most scared when you had to open up your dark thoughts to the soul that loved you like hand craft jewels themselves.

“Maybe later. Need to shower.” You finally sit up and take his hand in yours just craving his touch and he reciprocates the action.

“Have a proper meal, heard you haven’t had much of an appetite these past few days.” His hands squeeze yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands.

“Yes, we’ll have a proper meal Mr. Shelby. Whatever it is you want we will have it.” You respond, resting your head against his chest for a moment.

“You go shower and I’ll see what I can get started in the kitchen.” His warm lips press into your forehead.

“Alright, I’ll meet you down there in a bit.” You give him a small smile and press your lips against his cheek, legs swinging over the edge to stand and stretch, him copying your motions. As you walk past him, he grabs your hand to get your attention, causing you to turn to look up at him.

“(Y/N), I love you. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.” You nod your head at his words ready to cry about them as you go run your shower. You watch as he leaves the room, the door closing shut behind him. The flick of a switch and twist of a knob, you find yourself undressing and climbing into the porcelain tub. Those were the days you sat in the hot shower, letting the droplets burn the skin. Wondering about why life has you so down, so paralyze by fear, you could barely breathe. You were drowning under the water and no one was there to pull you out.

That is where and when you were the most vulnerable. Alone. The most earth shattering sound releases through your lungs and tightens them back up as it moves through your body. You wonder how one person could have a multitude of tears stored in them that was infinite. It would only last for so long before you felt you could continue on with the task at hand that would bring you closer to the relief you were waiting for.

It was a rare sight to see and was one that you enjoyed when it did happen. It warmed your heart and brought a genuine smile to your face, despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned against the frame, watching him in an element he was secretly good at but didn’t have the time to do.

Let alone did he ever sit still to finish an actual meal half the time but he would try his hardest for you because meals were sometimes the only part of the day you two would spend together. He was busy and worked at all hours of the day but you had a regular day job. He would try to come home early in the evenings to eat with you even if it meant he had to go back out or continue work in his office, or spend it with you. Sometimes you worked long hours or would have to bring work home that needed completion after hours.

He was wearing his round spectacles, which you enjoyed as it made him look more attractive than he already was. He was annoyed and embarrassed about them at first, but you’d always find a way to remind him how much you loved them. His sleeves were rolled halfway up revealing his strong forearms and ringed fingers that were slicing lettuce on a wooden cutting board. White dish cloth hanging from his shoulder.

“Looks like you’ve been busy here, Chef Shelby.” You teased making your presence known as he glances up at you with a playful stare.

“Only the best for you. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, I had to take the chance to admire what’s mine.”

“Only yours forever.” He passes you a slice of cucumber as you take a seat at the island.

“What are you cooking tonight?”

“Sausage, mash potatoes, and salad.”

“That sounds great. Thank you Tom.” You both grin at the other as you watch him play chef in the kitchen. It was satisfying as you haven’t had a moment to feel this good in the past couple of weeks. You sat talking about his day and him telling you a funny story of the younger Shelby clan over dinner.

You still had lots of stories to discover about the man in front of you as did him. It was ever evolving when one would share a new story, that would come to the conscious so vividly like a dream of the incident happening again. It wasn’t often Tommy told stories of his past but when he did was usual in moments like these or when you two were up late at night together talking like two young lovers in love.

It was moments like these where it felt easier to breath, even if it was only temporary.

A moment of bliss so delightful, it was beginning to stitch the pieces back together.

Distractions could only last for so long even good ones. You found yourself back in the reality of your sadness as the silence lapsed between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward but you knew you still had to talk to the one person that cared for you better than did sometimes and vice versa.

You both were resting with your backs against the headboard of the bed, settling down for the remainder of the evening. Your upper body was half laying on his broad chest and head was resting against right in the crook of his neck. Your fingers were tracing circles on his bare torso mindlessly, mind away in the abyss.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hmm?” His hot breath whispers in your ear, lips pressing to your temple.

“Too much. It’s like my brain is a broken record and there’s no silence. I can’t shut off the thoughts and it’s clouding my thinking. Everything feels heavy and meaningless. Everything is the same day in and out. Life is passing by and I'm stuck in the middle watching it flash across my eyes.

The fear sets in like a weight in my stomach. It tenses my body and makes it hard to breath, to focus. It sets in first thing as I wake and lasts until it's time to go to bed. I can’t catch a break from it. It’s been hard trying to go to sleep, I feel fatigued all the time.

The weight of existence is swallowing me back down to the depths of Hell. When I close my eyes at night all I can see is this darkness. I’m in our house and running away from this shadow that keeps chasing me. It always finds me no matter where I run or hide. When I call out or try to find you, you never come. It always ends that same, with the shadow coming to swallow me but I wake before it ever can.”

The hot tears come back, falling against his chest as he listens to your inner monologue. The deepest part of who you were, on display for him to nurture with endearment. Your thoughts never scared him because of the life he lived through. Every time he held your fragile and aching body with heart wrenching sobs into his body in moments like this, frightened him. Distressed him to know that you were hurting this deeply. That you were carrying this alone and he hadn’t noticed.

You were the sweetest of souls and free spirited. You were smart and a hard worker. When he first met you, he knew that you would be sticking around for a while. Once he fell in love with you, it was over for him. You were everything he wanted and more. He did his best to please you and give you everything you wanted. You were the most beautiful woman he laid eyes on. He wanted to have children with you in the future. He wanted old and gray with you.

“Love, it’s okay I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. I’m always going to find you. I’m always going to protect you and will never let anything happen to you. I’ll always save you.”

He holds you close as you continue to cry.

“Love, calm down. Let’s breathe or you’re going to make yourself sick.” He lifts your head, his heart aching more at the sight or your dreary face.

Once he manages to get you to breathe at a normal pace. He gets to make his way to the bathroom. Returns after a minute with a warm rag to wet your face and a cup of water to drink. As you sip the water he wipes your face with the warm cloth. The water quenches your throat and the warmth from the cloth soothes your body while your husband soothes your mind with his affectionate actions.

For that you were grateful. Grateful for a man like Thomas Shelby despite his flaws, that he too even loved you despite yours. He was charming and funny in private when it was just the two of you. He always knew how to get your attention in the softest way and would do anything to see you smile. You held the moon, the stars, and the whole universe in your being for him.

Grateful that a man like Thomas Shelby understood sadness, grief, and the horror of what it felt like to not be able to escape from your dark thoughts. The thoughts that get stuck like leaves in the gutter, waiting to be cleaned out, or it can’t make way for the next rainfall.

He would know how to stitch you back together. It was in those moments of unraveling the strings that held you so tight together, would untangle and pull you closer to him.

“What do you want me to do to help you? I’ll do anything you want. Take time off work, you can quit your job and get a new one. We can go spend time away from town and go on a trip. I want you to know that I want you to be happy and I'll do anything in my power to help you get there.

Don’t listen to the negative voices in your head, love, does you no good. Think of all the amazing things you are. You are an excellent wife and help the company greatly. You are confident at your job and work twice as hard as me. You’re a heartfelt daughter and aunt. Watching with the nephews and nieces makes me know you’re going to be a wonderful mother.

You’re the love of my life. I love you so much, wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you weren’t here. I want old and gray with you, but we need to have some kids first.” His big warm palms hold your face, caressing your cheeks with his fingers.

“Thank you Tommy. I love you so much.” Your lips press against his chaste and slow moving in sync as your noses would bump slightly with minor movements.

“There will be better days ahead love, I promise. When you close your eyes dream of me. I’ll come save you. I’ll be here when you wake up, I'm all yours until further notice.” His lips pressed against yours for the final time that night, as the lights were off. He was on his side holding you to his chest, as your body mirrored his as you laid your head on his chest, his arms holding your back.

You knew in that moment, you didn’t need to say anything. He knew you and your heart for all that it was worth. He would come and help you water your plants as many times as you needed help. He would help you build your garden back until you were blooming yet again.

He was your lifeline, that came to save you time and time again. You would do the same for him. Your love for another ran deep, deeper than both you admitted aloud sometimes. Both being able to tell through little actions and thoughts that would occur daily, he was your livewire.

As your eyes closed you dreamed about something good for a first time in a long time. It was as vivid as a fresh painting on a warm spring day. It was a flash forward of your life. Of being with Tommy, having children, and being old and gray together.

You slept in peace of knowing there were going to be better days ahead.

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

If you want to be added to my taglist, just shoot me an Ask or comment down below!

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peakyxtommy

200 notes · View notes