40 years of choice

crazyyaboutbooks  asked:

41 - Aedion and lysandra

Lysaedion ghost/living person: Aedion died in battle 40 years ago and Lysandra is struggling with a choice, and he appears to her to help. 

WARNING: This is sad and I’m sorry.

Lysandra tried not to think of the day Aedion died. She didn’t like to think about watching him get pulled off the battlefield, covered in blood, his chest barely rising. She didn’t she like to think about the way Rowan had just shaken his head after what had seemed like hours of trying to heal him, or how he had put his hand on her shoulder and murmured he was sorry. She didn’t like to remember how Aelin had been screaming his name, begging anyone to save her cousin, how she had clung to Rowan whilst she sobbed over his body. She hated remembering, and she’d done well to repress the memories. 

Until now. 

Theo had got down on one knee and proposed to Lysandra three days ago. She’d seen it coming, but had refused to acknowledge they were at that stage of their relationship. As soon as he did it, her mind went to Aedion. She thought of the time he’d promised to marry her, the time he told her no matter how many years it took, he would be her husband. She couldn’t give an answer to Theo. She wanted to say yes, but it felt like a betrayal; so she’d asked for time to think; but all that time had done was bring up bad memories. 

Aelin had told Lysandra that whenever she needed a break or needed to think she would walk around the gardens of the palace, and then she’d go to the temple and pray. So that’s what Lysandra did. 

She got to the temple and knelt down and began to pray. It didn’t take long for the tears to arrive; they slid down her cheeks and fell to the floor. She made no move to wipe them away, she just let herself cry. She missed him. That was the honest truth, she missed him and some days she didn’t know how she survived. 

Movement to her right made her stop; and she looked to the side and all the breath left her lungs. Stood in front of her- in his finest clothes- was Aedion. He was whole, and real, and smiling at her like he used to.

“W-what are you doing here?” Lysandra stood up, her legs feeling like they could give in at any moment. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.” 

Aedion smiled, the smile that made her go crazy. “I’m here. It’s very much real,” Aedion gestured for her to come forward, “now tell me why you’re crying.” 

She couldn’t help but let the tears fall once more, but she slowly moved towards him, afraid that if she moved too fast he would disappear. 

“Lys. I didn’t convince all the Gods to let me come down here just to sit in silence. Why are you crying?” 

So she explained. She told him how she’d fallen in love with another man; how he was kind and caring, how he would bring her flowers and chocolates, which Aelin would always steal. She told him how he accepted every part of her, the good and the bad. She told him that ever since he came into her life, she would wake up and she wouldn’t feel the ache in her chest that had been there since he had died, she could sleep without nightmares about that day. She told him that she smiled more and didn’t hate the world anymore.

“Then why are you sad?” 

“I feel like i’m betraying you. He is asking me for the life that we should’ve had and I don’t know how to get past that,” a sob escaped her, “I don’t know how to let you go.” 

“It’s easy Lys, you just say yes. Say yes and live your life, you can’t let me hold you back. This man, he loves you, and he wants to spend the rest of his life with you,” Aedion gave a sad smile, “I can’t give you that, not anymore. So please, for the sake of your happiness and mine, please go marry that man and have a happy life. I’ll always be there Lys, in your heart, as you are in mine.” 

“I miss you, Aedion.” 

Aedion smiles once more, his eyes shining with tears, “be happy Lysandra, because that’s all I want for you… Happiness.” And then he was gone. 

Lysandra sank to he knees once more and cried until the light disappeared outside and the candles burned softly. 

When her eyes had finally dried, she stood up, brushed the dust off her dress and marched into the village- where she found Theo at his home- and told him yes; a million times yes. 

Disclaimer: I do not want Aedion to die, I ship Lysaedion a lot so I do not want this to happen. Also, again, I apologise for poor grammar and spelling, it’s 1am and I’m tired! Lastly, I’m sorry if there are some continuity errors or things don’t add up to the books (e.g. I don’t know whether Lysandra is immortal or not). 

Just a reminder that I am not taking anymore prompts/fic requests at the moment. I need to get through these first. I’ll let you know when I’m accepting requests again though :) 

anonymous asked:

Could I get some RFA + V/Saeran (those two are super popular omg) helping you through a really bad day? ;;

//ayy sure thing my dude, sorry if i got too carried away with it heh. i also had some trouble coming up with the issues, so sometimes they repeat themselves and in literally all of them there are snuggles and hugs and i apologize for that but honestly?? none of them wouldn’t cuddle you , ya feel? i might edit this later btw//


  • first off, yoosung is one of those people who is always checking in with you because he remembers when he would feel really depressed because of Rika and he never wants you to feel that
  • so let’s say you and him planned a date tonight and you were going to go out to eat and then to the movies to see one of the new films coming out the yoosung was really interested in
  • and so you’re in class, right? and you have your big travel cup of some drink, and you reach over for your pen, but you knock over that cup, and the lid literally just opens/falls off and it spills all over your keyboard
  • but you can’t really get up and get napkins or paper towel so you clean it to the best of your abilities with your shirt, which is actually a really nice sweater
  • so class gets out and you have tons of homework which sucks. and you know what? your professors a lazy ass and he doesn’t even teach you, just gives you a bunch of problems to solve or tell you to write something
  • on the way home you missed your train, like you were literally are running up the station steps when it starts to close the doors and pull away
  • no way in hell are you waiting for the next one, because in that time, you could walk back so you did
  • but it started raining, and you don’t have your umbrella, so you go to just call yoosung to come and pick you up but your phone dies
  • and eventually you get home two hours later, stopped by everything and soaking and crying and Yoosung sees you in the door and he’s all dressed up and has this worried look on his face and you cry even more because you know he was really excited for that movie and your day has just been absolute shit
  • and you try to apologize but you just can’t stop the tears and he just hugs you and pets your hair because he’s been there, he knows what it’s like
  • you apologize and tell him that you’re sorry but he’s just like “MC, don’t say that, it isn’t your fault, i’m sorry i couldn’t have helped you sooner.”
  • he just makes you some hot chocolate and a towel and a change of clothes that just came out of the dryer
  • you just snuggle into him and watch The Lion King and go to sleep 
  • yoosung actually loves you so much and he understands when you want to talk and don’t so he’ll just hold you and hug you and be there with you

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Meant to Be

Little story for your reading pleasure! A little late, but an Anniversary Fic.

He could tell the dawn was only just breaking even before he opened his eyes. He sensed a strip of light streaming through the cracked curtain, shining on his face. Blinking, he brought his hand up to block the light. It was unfortunate that that single ray of light decided to shine right in his eye, otherwise he would have been able to get another half hour of sleep. To avoid the glare, he slid his head lower on his pillow and turned to his left, away from the window.

Before he could settle down and close his eyes again, his gaze caught the diagonal strip of light as it crossed the bed. The light lifted over the bump in the sheets that was his wife’s hip. She laid on her stomach with both her bare arms stretched above her head and over her pillow, blonde hair anything but perfect, and blue pajamas creased from her tossing and turning. Her face devoid of makeup, flushed with natural human glory. The wrinkles that marked her face during the day dissipated in sleep. Her worries and scars couldn’t reach her slumber.

The corner of his lip raised unconsciously as he listened to her steady breathing. He reached for her left hand that rested close to her head. Her limp hand adorned a gold band with diamonds pebbled between the design. It was his 20th anniversary gift to her.

But that was not what he wanted her to wear that day. So he carefully twisted it off, thanking God she was a good sleeper. He slipped out of bed and walked carefully to their dresser where her jewelry bag sat. It took him a few minutes to dig through the bag and find the correct pocket. He pulled out an antique ring, not elaborate, but still treasured.

He made his way back to his side of the bed and resumed his recumbent position.
He lifted her now bare hand, still limp, and carefully slid the antique ring on her finger. Now that that was taken care of, he drew her fingers to his lips and ever so gently kissed her ring finger. His eyes were fixed on her face, waiting for her to arise from slumber. With no hint of acknowledgment, he stepped up his game. He pulled her arm so it wrapped around his neck and moved his head onto her pillow so it was level with hers. He felt her steady breath skim his cheek. Their noses knocked as he tilted, closing in on her lips. He caressed her upper and then lower lip with light kisses.

After a bit more prodding, her lips finally responded. He smiled and pushed back as he felt her wake. Her now alert hand found purchase at the back of his neck and she rolled towards him. He took encouragement from her move and slipped his hand around her waist, pulling her against him. His other arm snaked above her head and bent so his fingers stroked through her muddled hair.

Their lazy kisses ended when she bent her head and he moved his lips to the bridge of her nose. She continued to use her finger nails to scratch the back of his neck and he brushed a lock of hair off her face.

“Happy Anniversary, darlin’,” he croaked with early morning sleepiness.

She hummed lightly, “Happy Anniversary.” She lifted her head and kissed his cheek before pulling him into a tight embrace.

When she pulled back, both their eyes were finally open and lit up, her blues met his blues.

“Forty one,” he whispered, stroking his hand up and down her side.

She chuckled, “Thanks for reminding me of my age.”

“None of that,” he scolded. “You’re the same beautiful, strong woman I fell in love with over 40 years ago and if I had the choice, I would do it all over again.”

She moved her weight so half her body rested on his, rolling him onto his back. Both his arms automatically wrapped around her upper and lower back. Her head on his shoulder, her leg over his thigh, and her hand resting on his heart, they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

In the silence, his question percolated. “Would you do it all over again?”

She nuzzled his neck with her nose. “Of course I would.”

Reassured, he pulled her ever closer.

“Schedule?” he asked.

Her eyes were closed, but her mind wide awake and spinning. “10:00 to the plane, probably with a press conference, 1:30 speech in Philly, local interview, on to North Carolina by 5:30 for briefing, and 6:30 meeting with national security team.” She paused. “What did I miss?”

“Secretary of Defense said he would call you after lunch, meeting with national security will undoubtedly go long, and I’m stealing you the moment that meeting is over. So pencil that in your schedule.”

“You’ll have to check with my staff,” she teased. Her hand trailed down his chest and stretched to his outer thigh. “Any late-breaking thoughts on the Foundation you care to share?”

“No.” He stated resolutely.

“No you don’t have any new thoughts or you don’t care to tell me?”

“That’s a no to both. I’ve discussed it with Chelsea, but I don’t want you to brood about these decisions.”

“Well it’s a little late for that, honey,” she observed. Both decided that silence was the best response to this line of questions and they settled into each other.

Her practicality eventually seeped through their moment. “We really should get up.”

His relaxed nature responded. “Not yet. It’s still early.” He stretched his neck so his chin rested on her head. “We have time.”

She pulled her head up to meet his eyes. “How much time?”

She exited the SUV first, styled in smart black pants, a colorful jacket, her signature heeled shoes, hair refined so as not to bring criticism, and makeup striving to make her look ‘acceptable’ and ‘healthy.’ She waited beside the door for her husband to exit, dressed in a button up blue shirt and a suit jacket. His clothes didn’t matter. He raised his arm to wave to the press who were waiting a few yards from the plane. She smiled and waved until he took her arm in his. They walked together to the steps and climbed with their arms around the other’s waist. At the top, they turned and waved once more before she ducked through the door, followed by her husband of 41 years.

She was planning on addressing the press in the back of the plane, and he decided to follow. He walked with his hands on her shoulders toward the wall of cameras, microphones, and hawkish reporters ready to tear apart everything they heard and saw. She stepped away from him and he took his place behind her leaning against the door frame.

She answered each question with clarity, facts, and an intellect that showed her deep passion for the issues. He smirked when she nailed the answer to a policy question, proving what he knew, there was no one who understood the issues better than her.

After about 20 minutes, she closed the questioning and thanked the reporters. As she turned, he placed a hand on the small of her back, and immediately followed her down the aisle. When she first jumped into the campaign life, he was often the more sought after and questioned. Now, she was who the American people wanted to hear from. He was her ‘get one free.’

Upon arriving at the event, he was always within touching distance from the future president. She took the lead, but he stood right behind her with a hand on her shoulder, her waist, or entwined with her own hand.

They walked out to their gathered audience hand in hand to enormous applause. They waved and shook hands on either side of the aisle to the stage. He let her climb the stairs ahead of him and stood back as she raised the mic and delivered her speech. He clapped at appropriate times and laughed when she took a dig at her opponent.

She ended to a roaring ovation and stepped away from the podium. After giving her a moment, her husband came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed the back of her head. Without needing to look back, she covered his hand with her own and they both waved with the other.

He leaned his head beside her ear. “They love you.”

He saw her swallow. “And I hope I won’t let them down,” she whispered so only he could hear.

He caught her eye as she turned her head back to the crowd, smile shining without missing a beat. She carried all America’s worries on her shoulders. She understood the weight of the presidential hat and felt even more pressure with every person who shared their fears of the alternative. The baggage was solely on her shoulders. Yet she couldn’t show her burden.

He knew and understood.


Their hotel room had already been swept and their luggage delivered. Their whole caravan arrived, beat after a full day of press conferences, speeches and traveling. The halls of the hotel were clear, except for their forever working team. She spoke to her campaign advisors about the next day: schedules, message, and travel. She needed to be prepared and was constantly planning her next move, looking ahead.

He waited for her by their door, hand on the knob, anticipating what his elves had conjured up. This time, it was her who couldn’t seem to end her conversation. She didn’t seem to recognize the amount of time she spent talking, but more than a sufficient amount of time went by, in his mind.

He strolled over to the crowd and, with a wave of his hand, signaled for them to disperse. “Tomorrow,” he stated firmly. With this proclamation, he placed his body between her and her team. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around and ushered her down the hall.

He felt her fight his grip and knew it was coming. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, pulling herself away.

Defending his actions, he pressed, “Darlin’, it’s time to wrap it up. You’ll have time to figure things out tomorrow.” He stood resolute between her and her advisors.

She tried to move past him, only to see her staff breaking up their huddle and moving quickly into their own rooms. “Bill! What are you up to? I’m not ready for tomorrow…”

With his hand that wasn’t keeping her in place, he tilted her chin so she looked directly at him. “Please, love, you deserve a break.”

“That doesn’t mean I can afford to take one. And who do you think you are ordering around my staff?” Her hot temper was still smoking. “I’m working my heart out for these people who have put all their faith in me…”

“I know, I know.” He tried to sooth and retain her. His once firm hands now massaged her shoulders. “While you take care of the country, let me take care of you.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek and his thumb gently smoothed over her lip.

She, reluctantly, relaxed with his touch, and kissed his thumb as it swept by. She softened under his puppy dog eyes. He was her one weakness.

“Are you ready to let me win this one?” he smirked, waiting for her reaction.

She wrinkled her nose and drew her eyebrows together. “Seriously?”

He chuckled. That was the the jib he expected. He snaked both his hands behind her neck, his fingers entwining with her hair. With her in his grasp, he tugged her head closer. He whispered against her forehead. “No.”

She snickered and raised her hands to her husband’s wrists. Pressing her head closer to him, she rested her forehead against his chin, eyes closed in serenity. He breathed in the vanilla scent of her hair and smoothed the soft skin of her forehead with his lips. Ever so calculating, he let his warm breath and long, kneading fingers get to work. Traveling steadily down the side of her face, his mouth made stops at the corners of her eye and lips, finally brushing against her ear.


Gradually, her eyes opened and her head raised to reach his ear. “If I must.”

She stepped away and turned over her shoulder. He quickly followed behind as she walked towards their door and the two secret service agents followed him.

She turned the knob and took one step into the sitting room before halting. Her husband shut the door behind them and flipped the lock. Now situated between his wife and the closed door, he couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

The sitting room was dark, with the exception of two flickering candles in the center of the circular coffee table. Beneath the long candles were two glasses, a bottle of chilling champagne, and a vase overflowing with budding red roses.

She exhaled a surprised hum and gave her husband a look over her shoulder. She took his left hand in both of hers and brought it to her chest. He wrapped his other arm around her and tugged her back to his chest.

“So this is why I was whisked off my feet and barricaded in here.”

“I warned you this morning,” he said. “You’re mine at the end of the day.”

“Well,” she began while turning to face him. “I don’t appreciate your possessiveness, but…”

He stopped her mid thought with his lips gently locking with hers. Without wasting another precious moment, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer with a hand weaving through his hair. He responded by tightening his arms around her waist and lifting her to her toes. She hummed in surprise as she found herself elevated from the floor.

“My goodness!” She exclaimed when he eventually released her. “Need I remind you we’re 41 years older than on our wedding night.”

“Nonsense,” he countered, sliding his hands down her sides and resting at her hips. “We’re still young!”

She snickered as she twisted from his arms and walked farther into the room, “If you say so, Pop-pop.”

His guffaws followed after her.

“Now make your youthful vigor useful and pour us some champaign.” She continued to the side of the sofa where she kicked her shoes off and stretched her toes.

He circled the table, tossed his jacket over a chair, and picked up the ice cold bottle. “You’ll like this one…” he stopped his sentence, taken aback by her retreating form. “Hill, Where’re you going, love?” he asked as she walked barefoot through to the bedroom.

“Relax,” she soothed, not bothering to turn to him. “I’ll be right back.”

He managed to open the bottle and pour two glasses before she reentered with a small black box between both her hands. “Here you are.” She handed him the box and he handed her a glass.

Reading the brand over the top, he looked back to her. “They already came?”

“Just yesterday.” She settled on the love seat’s arm rest and took a sip of champaign. “I was surprised they finished them so quickly.”

He opened the box to find two bracelets propped up in plush lining. The matching black bands with silver plates around the top shined in the candle light as he took the smaller one out of the box.

“Let me read mine,” she reached for her slightly smaller band, on which was an engraving that she had not yet seen.

“Hold on a minute,” he stepped back out of her grasp and looked at the engraving on the back of the silver plate. “I want to make sure they got it right.” He took his glasses from his pocket and tilted to the light.

She waited, watching his smile grow as he read the engraving.

Eventually, he lowered the band and turned his soft gaze to his wife. “Alright, you read yours first.”

Champaign forgotten, she met his eyes as he handed her the smaller bracelet. With the band in her right hand and his hand in her left, she turned the bracelet and squinted to read the inscription.

He, in turn, focused only on her beatific expression.

The wrinkles between her eyebrows ever so slowly faded as his message enveloped her. She read it over and over, focusing on each word, letting their essence seep in. She pulled his hand, drawing him closer to her side. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from her gift and met his. Giving his arm another tug he leaned into her. Her eyes closed as their lips touched, exchanging light kisses.

Before they went any farther, she grabbed the box. “Your turn.” She quickly glanced over the inscription on his band and threw the empty box on the table. Finding it exactly as she ordered, she relinquished it to him.

He settled himself on the couch beside her perch on the arm rest. With her arm around his neck and her hand in his, he read the inside of his own band.

She knew he finished reading when he removed his glasses and let out a long breath. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her off her roost. She let out a yelp as she fell half on the couch and half on his lap. With an arm around her waist, he pulled her legs over his own. Once she was settled, he took her bracelet and slipped it on her wrist. She admired it for a moment before doing the same for his.

He took her left hand in his and looked at their gifts to each other side by side. “They look good together, don’t you think?”

“They do.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “And they look good with this ring that mysteriously landed on my finger this morning.”

He smirked, of course she knew. “I wanted to see how it looked after 41 years.”

“It still fits, remarkably.” She brought her left hand closer to her eyes and twirled her wedding ring with her thumb.

He took her fidgeting hand and stilled it with a kiss. “You were great today.”

“Please,” she spoke up. “No campaign talk. It’s my anniversary.”

“Fair enough.” He ended his part of the conversation by, instead, nuzzling her hair while his hands traveled down her sides. “I’ll find something else to do.” His ministrations lead to her tilting her head back against the couch. This maneuver gave him access to her neck, which he took full advantage of. Beginning with the side of her jaw, he worked his way slowly down her throat, planting kisses strategically so as not to mark her fair skin.

When he reached her jacket collar, he reversed his path and continued to the other side of her face. He stopped briefly at the back of her ear before continuing down the other side of her jaw. She let her arms loop around his back and neck, holding him close while releasing a few incoherent mumblings. With his mouth circling in on hers, she took the last step and sealed their two souls for a moment in time.

Between whispered I love you’s, their kiss deepened as the day’s toils washed away. They drew strength, comfort, and love from the only other person in the world who completed them. In 41 years, they had gone through everything that was meant to tear them apart and they came out even stronger than before. Through their pains and pleasures, their love would never die. That is how they knew their illustrious story was meant to be.

That’s it; I’m done: The Emancipation of Bea Smith

inspired by this moment, captured so perfectly by @smithsbea 

That moment where Bea got to make a choice.  Where Bea got to be selfish about the way she wants to live.  Where she saw a future - in as much as she can have one in prison - and the future wasn’t grey and lonely anymore.  When I think of all the steps and stumbling points that got Bea to this moment, it makes me want to weep (and I did, copiously.  I’m currently in a rare moment when I’ve stopped sobbing).  

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I just saw an elderly couple driving, with a bumper sticker on their car that said “thank god your mom was pro life”. I laughed at it. Do you want to hear a funny story? When my mom was 17, she got pregnant. Her boyfriend at the time was abusive, unemployed, and barely out of high school. She had an abortion. She aborted her pregnancy, and 17 years later, when she was 34 years old, she had me. My father is not the boyfriend she had when she was 17. And I can say with relative certainty that she would not have met my father if she had had a child at 17. So, for me, thank god my mom is pro choice. And thank god she made that choice, and THANK GOD she had the right and the resources to make that choice when she needed to nearly 40 year ago.


year of the dragons -> awards

  • American Music Awards - Favorite Alternative Rock Artist
  • Music Video Production Awards - “Radioactive”: Best Rock Video
  • Teen Choice Awards - “Radioactive”: Choice Rock Song
  • Premios 40 Principales - Best International Rock Band