if you know who they are you know exactly what the words are

These are the lessons I have learned, the words left unsaid, the words that have resonated in my heart.

1. Don’t compare yourself to other people. Each and every person goes about life at their own pace. It doesn’t matter if it takes you one month, three weeks, or a few years longer than everyone else. Do not lose your individual color trying to catch up to the world.

2. Look at where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve become. That is exactly where you need to be. Do not be afraid of the future and do not dwell on the past, because at this exact moment you are exactly where you are supposed to be. Do not doubt that.

3. If you’re depressed and you know it, admit it. That is the first and most important step to recovery. Don’t cover it up with facades like a band-aid. Nor should you wrap yourself with it like a blanket. But throughout that whole process of healing, know that you are still you. When you’re humming along to your favorite Daphne Loves Derby song or when you’re crying in the corner of the bathroom, that is still you.

4. Accept that others want to help you, too. You are not meant to go about this life alone. No one is. There will always be a community of people, small or large, that is willing to stay by your side. Some moments might be obvious and come in the form of a telephone call or a hug. Other times it may be that they see bits and pieces of you in their day, and that is enough. You don’t need to do everything alone.

5. Guard your heart but do not barricade it from the world, even from yourself. I believe it’s been long enough and you owe it to yourself to open up.

6. You had a very simple dream in high school. You wanted to touch people’s lives, to help them love themselves in a way that you never could. You wanted to make sure that everyone saw a light, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. Even if it was only one person, that was your dream. Right now, at this moment, you are accomplishing your dream. Remember that.

7. You will have your time to leave on a new adventure. It may not be now or in the next month, but that time will come. And when it does, be ready to leave without looking back. One day you’ll be able to stretch your wings.

8. You will be okay.

Someone will come along. Someone who understands that you get jealous and anxious. Someone who knows the fears you have rooted deep in your past and holds you when you’re feeling scared. Someone who can’t dance, but dances with you anyway. They can’t sing, but they’ll sing to you anyway. They’ll love any gift you give, even when it’s the wrong size and they’ll love anything you cook for them, even when it’s burnt. They’ll make you laugh until you cry, and know exactly what to say to make you smile. They’ll leave you feeling helplessly, unapologetically happy as you fall asleep at night. You’ll wonder how you ever got so lucky. Just be patient. Someone will come along.
Avidity ⇝ M

⤷ “Do you know how long I have been fantasizing about you?”

Originally posted by my-shining-star

Summary: Oblivious as you were, you never knew how things revolved around you. You never knew if it was fated, if it was meant to be, but what you did know…was that not everything was exactly as it seemed.

A/N: Happy late as hell Valentines Day! It’s official, this gif dragged me to the other side. I have sinned…h e l p. *whispers* I can’t believe I wrote this.

Genre & Warnings: A shot of fluff & minor angst..I think. Be on the lookout for mature content aka possibly a whole bucket of smut (explicit & trigger warnings, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you) and certain someones who speak very bad french. {boxer!taehyung}

Words: 11.4k


The view in front of you was intoxicating—the evergreen littered with beautiful conifers and pine trees covered in mildew skyrocketed high into the sky. Petrichor was emanating rapidly from the tree bark and soil that you couldn’t help but inhale the fresh resinous scent that refreshed your mind and definitely soothed your soul. You watched as the sodden leaves were being mushed below your shoes and you carefully made sure to not trip over the large roots that were messily dug into the ground. The sun slightly filtered through the branches and damp leaves from the large trees, the chirping of birds were soft and the occasional wood pecking reverberated throughout the large forest.

“God, this sucks.” You looked up to find Yoongi groaning towards the large rocks littering over the trail you were all taking up the mountain. “We’ve been hiking for about an hour, and now the trail is suddenly rocky? No thanks.” You heard your brother laugh as he climbed over a mossy boulder, and continued to take careful strides up the rest of the rocks.

Keep reading

I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t want to break my heart like fragile glass upon the words that they tell me. I don’t want to fall in love. But now there’s this ache that I can’t exactly explain because although I don’t want to fall in love, I want to fall in love with you. I want to watch the color of your eyes change as the sky does, I want to watch them shift from that fantastic green to the glittering gold that lies just below them. I want to see you smile and make your stupid jokes that aren’t funny but always make me laugh, I want to see the red in your cheeks rise with emotion. I want to feel your hair that is like burnished gold personified. When I heard your voice when you were about to go to sleep I felt something dangerous because I know I wouldn’t exactly mind falling asleep next to you. When I look at you I feel something dangerous because I know that if we were to sit in front of the most beautiful sunset that man had ever seen, my eyes would still be on you. I want to know what makes you tick and what makes you smile, I want to know your favorite movie and if you prefer oceans to forests or vice versa. I want you to be happy. When you don’t seem happy like you always do, I feel something dangerous, because I want so dearly to give you something that’d make you so. And that’s the most dangerous thing of all. Because although I don’t want to fall in love, I want that something to be me.
—  a.p. (10.6.16) I don’t want to fall in love, I want to fall in love with you

Shaun King is “outraged” that Trump’s cabinet selections are not diverse in gender and race. There are plenty of legitimate criticisms of his picks, but diversity is not relevant here at all. For most progressives, diversity only matters in skin color and gender, and only when convenient.

Today’s progressives want diversity simply for the sake of it - as if one’s skin color and gender ipso facto qualifies you for a job. Outside of these identity labels, however, progressives want nothing to do with diversity. They have boiled down the word to only refer to demographic identity and have no desire for ideological diversity.

How do I know this? Frankly, anyone who has ever seen a progressive react to Thomas Sowell or Walter Williams knows exactly what I mean (or really any “right wing” minority pundit). If you are a minority and not firmly dedicated to the progressive cause, then you are a conservative parrot, Uncle Tom, or a Fox News shill. Hurling insults at minorities is perfectly fine so long as they’re conservatives, and then it’s totally not racist.

Last time I checked, that is the antithesis of diversity. This is the kind of vitriol I see from the left when it comes to ideological opponents (and by “the left” I mean people like Shaun King and his fellow media pundits).

Even worse, as with many progressives, Shaun King believes that a “less white, less male” cabinet would mean a more successful one. I cannot think of a more awful way to view other races. “I have appointed you to this high ranking federal position because you are black” is possibly the most demeaning view you can have towards diversity. Imagine you work hard all your life and then you’re appointed to a cabinet position simply because of your identity. You acquired all of this experience and merit throughout your whole life, but then you land a job…because of your skin color (which you did not work hard to achieve).

Martin Luther King, no matter our disagreements on economic structures, truly understood the meaning of diversity. He fought for diversity and equality under the eyes of the law, but knew that merit wasn’t a function of skin color. He knew that equality was not equality until individuals (not classes) were judged by their character, not their demographic.

Today’s regressive left has radically evolved beyond that and seem to now reject MLK’s message. In their world, skin color is, in itself, a characteristic worthy of merit - never mind if someone is actually qualified for a job.

Racial diversity is anything but equality if you attain it simply for the sake of racial diversity and not because of merit. Criticize Trump’s picks all you want, but their demographics are not something that disqualifies them from a job.

Can you even imagine how badass female Junkers probably are? They know they’re going to get underestimated by people who don’t know better. They know they’re going to get targeted, assumed fit for “soft” roles. They know what’s up. It didn’t suddenly change because of an apocalypse.

Rat’s seen a woman tear a metal wall down with her bare hands because she knew exactly which part to grab to make the bottom crumple for her. He’s seen a woman screaming like a banshee as she took a serrated axe to the face of a man who made the mistake of touching her without permission. He’s seen a woman softly cradling a small child and whispering quiet words of encouragement while people were dying around them. The most badass people he’s ever met were likely women.

So if you’re going to tell me for one second that Rat wouldn’t have a healthy dose of respect for any woman he meets, then I don’t know what to tell you.

Melting Magnets (M)

Requested by anon (thank you for your patience) ♥

→ Reader x Kai 

→ College AU; in which you and Kai don’t get along at all- or do you?

→ Warnings: Smut: rough sex.

Word count: 1,8K


Your relationship was complicated. 

“Hey there snow sock.” 

Very complicated. 

Keep reading

The New Khaleesi

Request: Hello! May I please make a request where Khal Drogo threatens to kill a man who flirts with Y/N? With extra steam and possessiveness? I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d find time to do this 💞


 

Word count: 632

You came from Volantis. And somehow ended up on Drogo’s Khalasar. Most of the Dothraki women don’t like you, you have no idea why. After four years living with the Khalasar, you still don’t know their language very well.

Drogo used to scare the hell out of you, but now, you notice that he always look at you. Keeps staring for too long, with kind eyes. Kindness isn’t something you’d expect from him.

Now you stand close to his tent, waiting for him to talk with the Khalasar. You don’t know exactly what’s happening, but it seems that no one knows. The only words you could understand were ‘wait’ and 'important’. So you all should wait here because whatever the Khal wants to say it is important.

Someone bumps into you violently, and you mutter apologies. But the man stands before you, looking down with hungry eyes. You can’t understand what he’s saying, but you do understand the word 'fuck’, which he says very often. There’s a lot of eyes on you now, but no one comes to help. Breathing heavily, you try to pull away from him, but he grabs your arm, dragging you with him. The smile on his face scares you, and you know exactly what we’ll do.

Then a scream makes the man lose his grip, letting you fall to the ground. You raise your head to see that the scream belongs to Drogo, who came out of his huge tent. Again, you can’t understand what they’re talking about. But it’s clear that they’re arguing.

A young woman with dark skin helps you to your feet. “Are you hurt?”

“You speak the common tongue?” You sound desperate, holding her arms to keep your balance.

“Yes. The Khal bought me to teach him the common tongue.”

“Why?”

“(Y/N), the Khal is about to kill that man, only you can stop him!”

“What are they saying?” You observe the fight that’s about to begin.

“She will be mine and you can’t touch her, Drogo said.” The woman stands beside you, protectively. “No one touches Khaleesi.”

“Khaleesi? What is it about?” Drogo easily kills that man, ripping his head off with bare hands. “Explain to me!”

Drogo walks to up, looking down like the other man did, but his eyes are different. Kind, as always. You try to say something, but he won’t understand.

“You are fine?” He says and you stutter something between your teeth. You feel eyes on your back and points at his tent, your hand shaking.

Once you’re inside, you find a wooden chair and sit down, your heart beating fast. Drogo kneels before you, gesturing for the woman to leave.

“You killed him. Why?”

He looks at you, a little confused. “No one touch Khaleesi.”

“I’m not a Khaleesi, Drogo, I’m not even Dothraki. I came from Volantis four years ago.” You speak slowly, hoping he’d understand you.

“I do not care. Dothraki now.”

“Why are you learning the common tongue?”

“Slave teach me to talk to you.” Drogo takes your hand and leads you to the other side of his tent, showing you a golden belt. It’s thin, perfect for you. “Gift for you.”

“Thank you. Would you teach me Dothraki?”

“Yes.”

“Now, explain to me what’s the meaning of this.”

He stares at you, trying to bring sense to your words.

“Why you killed the man? Because he was hurting me?”

“I want you Khaleesi.”

“Wha-what are trying to say?” You stutter, raising your head a little so you can look into his eyes.

“You my Khaleesi.”

“Your…?”

“My Khaleesi now?” He interrupts you, a shine is his beautiful eyes.

You smile, impressed by his words, his kindness. “Yes.” Whispering, you slowly takes his hands on yours, finally feeling his warm skin against yours.


A/N: Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

a latina's opinion on the term "latinx"

(idk if i am signed in to my account but anon pls anyways)
sorry this is so long
what really annoys me is when people who don’t know that much about the actual Spanish-language talk about what Latinx means because in reality there are many words in Spanish that when used in their plural form they are exactly the same as the plural male form. I don’t know if you understand what I mean because if you don’t study Spanish that would be pretty hard but let’s use for example “Niño”. niño means boy. “Niña” means girl but when you talk about children you use “Niños” and it is a non-gendered term and it can apply to a group of girls a group of boys or even a group of girls and boys maybe even a group of female aliens as long as there’s more than one children. it has a male articles when you use it which is “los”. now, the fact that this is a male article does not mean that the things it describes are male and this is what happens with latinos. it includes everyone already: people who are non-conforming, Women, men, trans people… everyone! it doesn’t make a distinction it’s just people and you use a specific gender article because when you use for example an adjective it needs to have agree with the gender of the subject. if you want to describe something you need to use an adjective with a specific gender that agrees with the one given to the noun. this sounds so weird but for example Latino has a male article so if I want to say Latinos are beautiful I could use the Spanish word “bellos” which means which can also be used as “bellas” if you are talking about a female subject. in this case you will use “bellos” but that doesnt mean it has a specific gender!! they assign genders to pencils (“el lapiz” the pencil(male)) and chairs (“la silla” the chair (female)) and maybe Tumblr doesn’t like it but those are the rules with this language and I love it just the way it is it is so beautiful and I am so happy that it is my first language and you shouldn’t change it just to be PC. like if that term makes u feel good use it for urself but don’t make me use it.

“Rose,” Kanaya said in her most cautionary tone, stepping into the living room lit only by convenient and ritually placed candelabras. Rose looked up from the chalk circle on the floor with an innocent expression.

Or an expression as innocent as one who had a cup of goat’s blood in her hands could wear.

“Yes, dearest?”

Keep reading

Let me ask you this: Do you know who the father of Rory’s baby is? 

ASP: We do.

Is it the same father you would have had in mind if you had done this when Rory was 22? 

Daniel Palladino: Maybe not. I think when Amy first talked about the last four words — and we talked about them, like in season three, four, something like that, of the original series — it was really the moment that felt right and we quite frankly didn’t exactly know what the specific circumstances are.

ASP: Yeah, we didn’t know whose contracts would have been up by that point.


Okay, this fits with my little theory of “they gave each boyfriend Christopher-like traits so they could end the series at any point with their desired full circle”. All the boys could’ve been “Christopher”. Cool. Good. I’m chill. 

Originally posted by kengha

“I dunno, I really like that these tiny moments happen and other stuff’s obviously going on behind, you know, that we don’t see, as an audience. And something about those tiny moments tell you that – this sounds odd, so you might have to winkle out exactly what I’m on about – but it’s like those tiny, tiny moments make you feel like there’s something else happening somewhere else. “ - Louise Brealey


“You’re not saying a word,”

Sherlock Holmes sunk deeper into the couch as he tugged his dressing gown tightly against his body, his knees pressed against his chest as he looked at the small pathologist sitting right in front of him with her lips pressed tightly against each other. He doesn’t know how long he can last in the silence but he didn’t want to face this, face her. The woman that mattered, the one who mattered the most. He wonders what she’s thinking, unable to deduce her even with his mind on speed. She loved him, he knew that. Molly Hooper obviously will always love him but can she forgive him?

“I don’t have anything to say,” She replied sounding jollier than she expected but that’s just so incredibly Molly Hooper, hiding behind the façade of a happy woman. Always putting others before her.

“I did it for John,” he excused although he knew she would never believe him.

“Yeah,” she faked a smile. “Do you want some tea? Or coffee… I can..”  she mumbled, obviously trying to avoid any eye contact with the man that, ironically, she’s been tasked to watch.

“I just need you,” his voice breaks.

“Sherlock,”

“If I’m not the same man as you knew,” he stood up and started walking towards her and as he caught a whiff of her perfume, he suddenly forgot why he ever felt the need to get high when her scent would cause the same effect. This is why he’s always so fond of cake. Molly Hooper always smelled like one (if not a tinge of formaldehyde). “If everything you knew of me was wrapped in this big messed up, heroine junkie that is undeserving of anyone,” moments later he was sitting on the floor holding her hand “Would you still have me?” 

“No,”

He let go but she held him back, just like she always does. Always chasing after him because Molly Hooper knew that Sherlock Holmes was better than this.

“You are still Sherlock Holmes and I love you,” for the first time since they’ve been in the same room, she stared at him. “But I won’t have you like this,”

“I love you too,” a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek, as always. “Let’s get me cleaned up then, Shall we, Molly?” his voice way deeper than it should be as his stare bore onto her eyes making her weak in the knees. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Molly Hooper smiled despite knowing that the path they’ll travel onto will not be easy. As the consulting detective stood up to walk away, she jested. “Do you want some cake?” 

And even the people who don’t believe in fairytales don’t get it exactly right. Because maybe the answer isn’t being cynical  and jaded about love, but it isn’t casting the characters of your life into the stiff pages of an old book either.

Maybe it’s like this:

You are afraid of love. You have this thing inside of you that swells up whenever you have to be vulnerable, and it’s alive and gross and it’s so desperate for affection that you run instead of risking rejection. You have spent so long alone that you don’t remember what it’s like to get to know someone, to open up to them or get close to them. You don’t know how to be a person anymore, and it’s harder than you thought.
And he’s not a prince. He’s not some perfect human who isn’t afraid of falling and who pulls you out of the pit you’re falling into. He’s as bewildered by what’s happening as you are. And he isn’t going to fix you, because he breaks in some of the same places sometimes.

But it’s like this:  you like holding his hand. You like that little squeeze he gives you whenever he gives you a nonchalant high-five. You like that sometimes you surprise him, and his eyes widen and he half-laughs, then looks away quickly, because this whole thing scares him as much as it scares you. You like the way he says your name, and how he tells stories. You’re fascinated by the possibility of your hands in his hair and that gap between his two front teeth, because it makes him look like someone you can trust.

And it’s not a fairytale, because it’s hard. Even though you feel like home sometimes, others you’re just thinking about all the ways he could leave. And even though he says things to you that you never thought anyone would, and watches you so closely, sometimes it’s like the two of you are barely strangers. And awkwardness stutters your words as often as your conversation flows. And you messed up and he messed up and now you aren’t going to see your favorite movie together, because you don’t even know where to begin. The words you want to say so insufficient. You’re a writer but you can’t tell him how you feel.

But maybe you can repair the damage, if you try. If you don’t hold back like you always have. If you decide to face the monster inside of you, instead of suppressing it.

—  ‘Could We Be Happy?’

Someone please talk to me about the fact that King Butterfly knows what it means for a princess to be evaluated, and that fact that Baby annoys him because she eats all of his food, and why does that sound familiar, oh yeah, because that’s exactly how Baby treated Marco.

It’s all too easy to imagine a young Moon Butterfly, nearly fifteen years old and dreading her first evaluation. She pours over her spellbook, determined to memorize everything, and frowns when Glossaryck says, “You’re not ready for that one” because Glossaryck is always so honest, even when his words cut deep.

“Has a princess ever failed her evaluation?” she asks. Her voice is steady, practiced, and proper, undaunted by disappointment or hardship.

“Yes,” Glossaryck replies. “And even if they hadn’t, who’s to say that you couldn’t be the first?”

She doesn’t blink at that, doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. She will, later, many years down the line, when Chauncey falls in battle and the whole world is crumbling apart, she’ll show Glossaryck just how deeply things affect her and just how hard she can cry, but for now there’s only one person she shares those things with, and he’s well outside the palace walls.

River is quite something to see in his youth, fearsome and fearless and strong. Most would say he has hair like sunlight but it’s always reminded Moon of the stars, shining yellow and bright alongside her namesake. He’s so different from her own family, so wild and loud; he says exactly what he’s thinking and doesn’t hide it behind guile and double-meanings, false smiles and polite words. He introduces the revolutionary concept that it is alright to express one’s emotions, to shout when one is angry, or declare one’s love in the middle of a tourney, because the princess has bested many monsters and he hopes to one day be as capable as she.

Moon doesn’t admit, at first, how nervous she is or how frightened, but River can tell. River’s learned to read the way she holds her hands, or the way her mouth thins out to silently reflect what she’s feeling, and he pulls her away from the rowdy, rude Johansen clan and wraps his arms around her.

In time, they return to the palace. River likes it here about as much as Moon likes the Johansen’s; he can see it from her point of view, appreciate it in a way, because it’s a symbol of Mewman tradition, steeped in ceremony and significance. These things are as vital and natural to Moon as breathing, but to River it will never quite feel like home.

They lock themselves in the kitchen and delight in roast boar and little pastries that River cannot name but also cannot stop eating. It’s here that Baby finds them, and here that Moon’s evaluation begins; Baby asks her to pass an apple from the counter and Moon hesitates, her hands folded, her mouth thin.

Suddenly, River picks up the apple and tosses it. It flies over Baby’s shoulder and splatters against the wall, and River laughs from deep inside his gut and cries, “Do I pass? Am I a princess?”

The corners of Moon’s mouth curve ever slightly upwards, and all at once her fear is gone, because no matter how poorly she does, it won’t be as bad as that.

You think you dont know what you want and may be you actually dont know or may be you are just ignoring the signs and pretending not to see…May be you are just confused, unsure and scared of the side effects that could take place from your choosing….Know that your heart knows exactly what it desires and who better to ask than the one who is the reason for your survival…Ask your heart…The answer may be twisted and difficult to bring out but it is right there deep within…
-M
—  #HiddenOne
Spoilers - Part 2 (Leonard Snart)

Requested: yes

Warnings: none that i can think of, but there might be some language in there

Word Count: 2.943

A/N: you guys asked for it so here is part 2 i really hope it’s alright and also this was longer but i decided not to bore you with a 6000 word story so i cut it lmao  (bonus points for who spots my references in this imagine lmao)

Story Line: The Legends travel to the future and Snart shows up asking for your help. 

Part 3 

“Welcome to 2020, everyone.” Hunter turned his chair around to face the rest of the team with a large grin on his face. “The year of numerous life-changing medical and technological discoveries.”

Keep reading

2

Who knows when you would’ve woken up if it hadn’t been for the rhythmic and constant beeping. Your eyes fluttered open, you focused on the white speckled ceiling, you didn’t recognize it and it took you a second to piece together where you were.

“You’re awake.” A deep voice rang out from your left causing your head to snap in that direction and you locked eyes with Derek. 

“Hey.” You said in a sleepy voice smiling at your best friend. 

“Hey.” He said, the look he was giving you was one of pity and you didn’t know why that was exactly. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked trying to sit up in your hospital bed, you did so with some pain but once you were up you reached out and motioned for him to come closer. 

“You should hate me, I’m the reason you’re in here.” Derek said keeping his distance and not looking you in the eye.

As soon as those words left his lips you remembered what exactly landed you in the hospital. 


You’d offered to stay late at school to help tutor another student, they’d gone home a long time ago but you stayed behind to clean up a bit. 

You were just about to leave when Kali emerged from the shadows. Derek warned you about the Alpha pack and judging by her red glowing eyes she was one of them. 

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes went wide and you were sure you were visibly shaking. 

“Where is he? You reek of his scent.” She barked at you. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered out. 

“I’m talking about Derek, where is he?” She growled out, walking closer and closer to you, claws and teeth bared. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said trying not to sound too panicky. 

“Really? Well then maybe you can give him a message for me.” 

“You know I don’t have the best memory, why don’t you just wait until you see him yourself?” You asked as you maneuvered around the desks trying to create space between the two of you and at the same time trying to get to the doorway.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to say anything.” She said before she lunged at you and from what you could remember she took a bite out of you.


“Derek it wasn’t your fault.” You reassured him as you tried to stand up. Your legs were weak and shaky but you fought against that.

“Derek, am I a werewolf?” You asked holding on to the I.V. pole to keep your balance. 

“I’m sorry (y/n).” Derek said not making eye contact. 

“No Derek, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.” You said letting go of your support and making your way towards him.

You faltered on the last step, Derek reached out and caught hold of you, he helped you get upright but he didn’t let go of your waist. 

“We’ll make it through this, I promise.” You said placing a hand on his cheek. 

“You’re supposed to hate me.” Derek said finally looking you in the eye. 

“When have I ever done what I’m supposed to?” You shot back with a smile.

Requested by anon

Jeorme Fic! ~Along for the Ride~ Part One

// Jerome Fic
~Along for the Ride~
Warnings: Mild Swearing. Scene that may be bothering or cause anxiety if you have fear of heights, Ferris Wheels, or falling. A little less cutesy. Ahh possible offensive language (not necessarily cursing but just a term for a girl who sleeps around a lot)
Need to know: Gotham basics. Also, I will be having what is hopefully a really cute Jerome fic coming up after this one.
Rating: Mid-Fluff.
Disclaimer: This might not be exactly to a T how Haly’s Circus is, I know. We only saw if briefly in one episode though, so I made it how I imagine it and how I wanted it for the story, hope it doesn’t bother anyone.
Word count: 1,671 //

You weren’t sure how your friends had gotten you to go to the circus. You weren’t really a fan of them, but something made you go. You had regretted it right when you stepped foot into Haly’s Circus. Kids were all around you, and loud, slightly distorted music played through unseen speakers. You looked around cautiously, unsure of what to do. Your friends had all split up right after entering, and you had been left in the middle of the circus. The colorful lights all around you seemed to blur together, you held your head. You couldn’t think at all, and shut your eyes tightly. Something about circus’ always got to you. The feeling of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and your eyes opened wide. “Are you okay?” A soft voice whispered. When you met his gaze, there was something behind the innocence in his eyes, something dark, and haunting. He helped you stand up, his head slighted tilted as he examined you. “What happened?” He asks, brushing some dirt off your sleeve.
“It’s just…something about this place, I-I don’t like it.” You whisper, upset that you felt as if you were about to break down in front of this stranger. He nods slowly, and exhales.
“A lot of people feel that way. Just give it a chance though, it doesn’t have to be bad. Come with me,” He says, dragging you off towards a Ferris Wheel and smiles at the operator. He simply walks through the entrance, and gets in one of the carts.
“Wait, don’t you have to buy a ticket?” You ask, pointing over at the small stand. He pulls the safety bar down into place. He shakes his head, and laughs as the Ferris Wheel starts.
“Not when you’re a part of the circus.” You look over at him in shock, and his laugh grows louder. You can’t help but think that it’s a quite cute laugh, and he looks adorable while doing it. “My mom is the snake dancer here,” he says, looking over at you. You shake your head, a smile growing on your face.
“So, you live at a traveling circus?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“That must be fun.” You say, more out of kindness than anything else. He laughs again, not giving an answer.
“So, what’s your name?” He asks, a huge smile on his face as he looks over at you. The way he says everything makes you feel like you are on a game show.
“Uh, what?” You ask.
“Your name?”
“Oh, right! I’m y/n.”
“Are you sure?” He quips, and looks down at the ever-shrinking ground.
You roll your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “What about you?”
“I’m Jerome, Jerome Valeska.” He replies finally, looking over at you once again, that huge smile still on his face.
Your cart reaches the top, and the ride halts, causing your cart to sway back and front gently. Jerome looks over at you, tapping the bar with one of his index finger. before his hand wraps around it. “Are you afraid of heights, y/n?” He asks suddenly. You shake your head.
“No, not really. Why?”
“Are you afraid of falling?” He continues, the danger that lurks in his eyes beginning to come to the surface.
“It’s not exactly a pleasant thought, but…”
Suddenly, without any warning, Jerome yanks the safety bar up. In almost an instant, you can feel yourself slipping. He throws his other arm over you to keep you in, and laughs loudly. His laugh is so loud, it can be heard echoing throughout the night. It reaches a point of hysteria, and his body beings to shudder and shake, his whole body vibrating so hard, it’s a wonder he isn’t plummeting to the ground. He lets his head fall back as he continues to laugh, which just causes the cart to go more out of control, tipping backwards a bit and forcing you back against your seat more. You reach up blindly and feel the safety bar, yanking it back down into place.
“What the hell?” You whisper, not able to make your voice loud. Your heart feels as if it’s going to pound out of your chest, and you close your eyes tightly, only to open them and see his eyes widen, and a huge smile plastered over his face.
“Ahh…what a rush!” He says, dragging his hand down his face, pausing for a second as his bottom eyelid pulls down slightly. His hand quickly moves from his face, and he slaps the side of the cart harshly, laughing again. Thankfully, the Ferris Wheel resumes to move, and this seems to jolt him out of his hysteria. Jerome looks over at you, his eyes still dark, but the huge smile now only a small grin. You were beginning to get a pretty bad vibe from him, and just wanted the ride to be over. You just wanted to get off, and never come back. He tilts his head slightly before he laughs again as the ride stops at the bottom. You push the bar up quickly and practically jump off, your legs shaking as you begin to quickly walk away. Jerome stands up and walks over to you, his long strides letting him catch up to you in a matter of seconds. He throws one arm around your shoulders. “Come on doll, don’t run away from me.” You shrug his arm off, and keep moving. “Okay! Fine, leave!” He shouts after you, causing people to look over. He laughs again, and holds his arms up in the air. “I’ll leave you alone.” Something about the way he says that sends chills up your spine, as if there was an unspoken, for now lurking in his mind.

Once you finally find your friends you’ve calmed down a bit, but your still quite pale. The Circus is now mostly empty, besides a few stragglers trying to soak in the last few minutes before it closed for good. After a long argument, you finally convince your friends to go home, not mentioning your run in with Jerome. You keep zoning in and out of the conversation, only catching bits and pieces of it. But a certain sentence snaps your attention back to the real world.
“Y/n, there’s a really cute guy staring at you,” one of your friends says, pointing over to a group of trailers. You peer into the darkness, but can’t see anything.
“Who? I don’t see anyone…” You mutter, squinting your eyes slightly. Your friends giggle, and move forward, forcing you to move with the group.
“Let’s go look for him,” another one pipes up from behind you. In only a few minutes your standing by one of the trailers, and your gaze bounces around nervously, finally landing on a trailer with a clear box in front of it. Curious, you move forward, leaving your friends to go over and look at the box. When you pull back the small curtains, your heart practically stops. A snake. You turn to shout back at your friends, to run, to do something to get their attention, but someone places their hand over your mouth. You can feel yourself being pulled behind the trailer, and panic. When your let go, you instantly whirl around, slapping your attacker in the face. Jerome stands in front of you, a stunned expression on his face. He tilts his head down, his eyes growing misty. For a second there’s a pain in your chest, a heavy weight settling on your heart. But as he lifts his head up again, he begins to laugh.
“Y/n?” You can hear one of your friends calling for you, and you open your mouth to answer. Jerome holds his finger over his lips, the smile disappearing instantly. After a few minutes of silence, you can hear footsteps, and one of your friends laughing. “I guess she can find her own way home.” Annoyance rises in you that your friends would just leave you here alone, and Jerome raises an eyebrow.
“What friends they are,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. You can feel anger rising inside of you, a pressure building up, and as your hands curl into fists, your lips curving up into a smile. Anger fills every vein in your body, and you begin to shake. Your mouth opens, everything in you ready to scream. Air fills your lungs in a rush, and you laugh. Jerome’s expression goes from shocked to maniacal in a split second, and his laughter joins yours, mixing into a horrific blend of hysteria. You feel yourself fall against him as you laugh, unable to stop. His body shakes with glee, he stumbles backwards slightly, his laughter reaching an uncontrollable state. He wraps his arms around you, supporting you in a hug. His laughter shifts and becomes more twisted, which only fuels your laughter, causing you to fall further over the edge.
“You shouldn’t be with girls like that anyways,” He manages to say, his voice taking on the same tone as his dark laughter.
“Girls like what?” You breathe out, finally managing to get your laughter under control.
“Those, sluts.” He hisses, dragging out the last word. This sends the two of you into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, sending the two of you further over the edge. Jerome kisses your cheek and pulls away from you. “I knew all you needed was a push.” He whispers, staring at you in awe. “Can I trust you, y/n?” He asks, his face contorting in mock seriousness.
“Yes,” you giggle.
“Are you sure?” He asks, grabbing your hand and leading you out to the front of the trailer in a waltz.
You nod, laughing softly again. “Yes.” He pulls you to him, and kisses your nose softly.
“How would you feel about hiding a body?” He asks.
Your heart pounds wildly, and a smile spreads across your face. You could tell this would be the start of a legacy.
One of death and madness.