like a distant star

Pablo Neruda for the Signs
  • Aries: "Everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, lights, metals, where little boats that sail towards those isles of yours that wait for me."
  • Taurus: "I want to fill my mouth with your name."
  • Gemini: "And every wound has the shape of your mouth."
  • Cancer: "Under your skin the moon is alive."
  • Leo: "There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle."
  • Virgo: "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
  • in secret, between the shadow and the soul."
  • Libra: "If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life."
  • Scorpio: "You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank."
  • Sagittarius: "But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me."
  • Capricorn: "You are like night, calmed, constellated.
  • Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true."
  • Aquarius: "…I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
  • I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too."
  • Pisces: "I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this."

The Tarantula Nebula : The Tarantula Nebula is more than a thousand light-years in diameter, a giant star forming region within nearby satellite galaxy the Large Magellanic Cloud, about 180 thousand light-years away. The largest, most violent star forming region known in the whole Local Group of galaxies, the cosmic arachnid sprawls across this spectacular composite view constructed with space- and ground-based image data. Within the Tarantula , intense radiation, stellar winds and supernova shocks from the central young cluster of massive stars, cataloged as R136, energize the nebular glow and shape the spidery filaments. Around the Tarantula are other star forming regions with young star clusters, filaments, and blown-out bubble-shaped clouds In fact, the frame includes the site of the closest supernova in modern times, SN 1987A, at the lower right. The rich field of view spans about 1 degree or 2 full moons, in the southern constellation Dorado. But were the Tarantula Nebula closer, say 1,500 light-years distant like the local star forming Orion Nebula, it would take up half the sky. via NASA


you know what? all the paladins automatically have the best aesthetic because they’re in space. 

lance? shooting stars reflecting off of calm ocean waters like glass

hunk? desert hills at night turned lilac from the moon and milky way’s light

pidge? the night sky slightly obscured by soft rustling leaves dancing in the wind

keith? camp fire embers floating away so far into the sky they look like thousands of distant glittering stars

shiro? the quite of a moonless night where only the swath of stars stretched across the heavens are the most visible

allura? pink and blue nebula and aurora borealis stretching as far as the eye can see.

they all just…..have wonderful aesthetics. this show is so attractive 


Prompt: Migraine
Pairing: Moxiety (platonic or romantic)


Virgil appears in his doorway, hair askew, eyes squinting and whole body radiating unhappiness. 

Patton sets his book aside. It’s late, but he’s not asleep. He’s been expecting this. Virgil has been acting a little off all day, his responses slower than usual, flinching anytime anyone spoke too loudly. 

“Hey, buddy,” he says, keeping his voice pitched low. “Migraine?” 

Virgil gives him a miserable nod, then winces at the movement. 

Patton’s face contorts in sympathy. “Thought so. C’mere.” 

He slides over on his bed, making a space for the other side. While Virgil approaches and climbs onto the mattress, Patton reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a few staples: a bottle of water, a washcloth, and a vial of lavender oil. He hands Virgil the water; Virgil makes a face but obediently unscrews the cap and takes a few long swigs. When he’s done, he hands the still-open bottle back to Patton, who pours a small amount onto the washcloth before setting the bottle back on the table. 

He moves wordlessly to rest his back against the headboard, and Virgil follows; with the coordination of long practice, they settle a pillow in Patton’s lap, and Virgil reclines onto his back, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes. His make-up has been removed; there is a light dusting of tiny freckles across his nose and cheeks that Patton knows drive Virgil crazy, but which Patton finds almost unbearably endearing. The dark bruised circles beneath his eyes remain, however, which makes Patton’s heart squeeze a bit painfully in his chest.

He settles the damp cloth carefully over Virgil’s eyes, cool and dark, then reaches for the vial. The soft fragrance fills the air as he pours some onto his palms; Virgil inhales deeply, and Patton is gratified when he relaxes somewhat. He rubs the oil between his hands, warming it, then sets to work. 

He focuses on Virgil’s temples at first, keeping his touch light and gentle, then moves to work at the clenched muscles of his jaw. He works with quiet assurance, soothing and tender, and smiles when Virgil sinks into the touch, body growing heavier. Patton moves his attention to Virgil’s forehead, in particular over his eyebrows, which are so often drawn tight in fear or alarm. After a time, they relax too, the worry lines and grooves smoothing and lifting years from Virgil’s face. The anxious side draws a deep breath, releasing it on a half-sigh of relief, and Patton smiles again. 



It’s not exactly a resounding yes, but Patton doesn’t mind. The headache won’t magically disappear, because that’s not the way Virgil’s migraines work. But they’ve learned that Patton’s gentle massages do help, and that’s good enough for Patton. Virgil works so hard to keep them all safe; this is the least he can do in return. He only wishes he could do more. 

He continues to work, moving up to work on the scalp, then sliding his hands under Virgil’s neck to work the muscles at the base of his skull. Virgil stays relaxed, letting Patton support him, and the precious weight of his head cradled so trustingly in his hands makes Patton blink back sudden tears. 

Perhaps sensing the shift in emotion, Virgil removes the cloth from his eyes, gazing up at Patton with a silent question on his face. Patton offers a smile, which Virgil returns, small and sweet. Patton contorts, bending awkwardly in half in order to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. When he draws back, Virgil has closed his eyes, but his smile has grown incrementally.

Patton resumes his massage, adding a bit more oil and moving down to work the tight muscles of Virgil’s neck and shoulders, sliding his hands under the loose collar of his black t-shirt. It’s a little awkward from this angle but he does his best, pressing in deep at the juncture of neck and shoulder, rubbing in small firm circles with his thumbs. This is often the root of the problem, where Virgil carries the most tension, and it takes the longest, but finally, finally, those muscles relax as well, giving way under Patton’s insistent touch. Virgil groans softly again, and there’s definitely relief in his voice now. 

Gently, very gently, Patton eases himself back, sliding his legs out from under Virgil’s head. He settles the pillow onto the mattress then scoots to the edge of the bed, snagging the damp cloth and using it to wipe the remainder of the oil from his hands. 

When he turns back, Virgil’s eyes are open but heavy-lidded, watching Patton sleepily. Patton gives him another smile. 

“Do you want to sleep in here with me?” he offers, reaching out to smooth Virgil’s bangs back from his brow. 

Virgil nods once. 

“Okay. Be right back.” 

Patton slides off the bed and grabs the water bottle, refilling it from the bathroom faucet. Then he brings it back and sets it on the table on Virgil’s side of the bed. When Virgil wakes up in the morning, Patton will encourage him to drink it, to forestall the dehydration headache that often follows his migraines.

(Last time, he hadn’t even had to mention it; Virgil had grabbed the bottle on his own and downed the entire thing. It was a step forward in self care that’d had Patton bursting with pride, even when Virgil had shrugged it off and insisted it was no big deal.)

Now, Patton climbs into bed next to Virgil, pausing only to turn off the already-dim lamp. Overhead, the fairy lights he’d stretched across the vaulted ceiling of his bedroom twinkle faintly like distant stars. Virgil gazes up at them for a few moments, then rolls onto his side to face Patton, his eyes glittering in the darkness. His hand slides into the space between them; Patton grasps it in his own. 

“Thank you,” Virgil murmurs, voice rough and sleep-thick. 

Patton beams at him in the darkness, heart aching with love, and squeezes his fingers gently. “Anytime,” he whispers. 

Imagine: Fili Getting Concerned over Your Injury

Originally posted by ghisborne

(SEQUEL to Balin Giving You Love Advice, as requested!  In case you haven’t read the original, here it is! )

   You made your way back to camp, one arm wrapped around a bundle of firewood you gathered while the other hand touched your braid.  A smile grew on your face as you recalled the bonding time with Balin.  He had become like a grandfather figure to you and just made it official by braiding your hair.  You were basically family now.  Not to mention the elderly dwarf had sealed the deal by imparting some love advice to you.  It was a sneaky plan, really.  He suggested that you fake an injury, a twist of the ankle maybe, in order to get your crush’s attention.  Of course, you didn’t take the advice.  The Company had plenty of things to deal with.  That last thing you wanted was to make anyone worry over a fake injury. Balin’s suggestion had been hilarious, nonetheless.  To think that he could be so mischievous…  It made you smile and even laugh aloud a few times on the way back with the firewood.  You almost hadn’t noticed one of your comrades approach you several minutes later.  

    “Hey, _______,” Kili greeted you with a big grin. “How is my favorite female Company member doing?”

    “I’m the only female Company member,” you reminded, eyeing him suspiciously.  That grin of his was just too big.  He was up to something.  But then again, the young dwarf prince was always up to something.

    “My point still stands,” he retorted.  The grin faltered, but morphed into more of a smirk.

    “What’s going on?” you asked, suspicion growing into concern.  His smirk vanished, and he looked a little more on the nervous side.

    “Oh, nothing.  Nothing at all.”  He rocked back on his heels for a moment, hands folded behind his back as he glanced around in an attempt at nonchalance.  “Beautiful night.”

    “Yeah, it is,” you glanced up at the night sky, which you could barely see through the canopy of trees in the forest.  Stars shone like distant diamonds through gaps in the branches.  The moon was very bright and cast rays of silver on the scene.  “The sky is so clear.”

    “Mhm.”  He nodded.

    “And the moon is really bright.  I haven’t seen a moon like that in a long time.”


   “Yep.”   You tore your gaze away from the sky and let it rest on him for a moment.  The moon cast dark shadows on his face.  He seemed to be staring at something distractedly over your shoulder.  Before you could turn to look, he spoke up suddenly.

    “Um, what’s that over there?  Is that an owl?” he nearly shouted, pointing to your right.  An alarm went off somewhere in your mind, a warning of sorts.  But you ignored it in the heat of the moment as you turned to see what he was pointing at.  Of course nothing was there.  There were only trees looming before you.  No owl, or whatever.


    Your inquiry was cut off when a sudden shove from your left side caused you to stumble.  Arms flailed in a sad attempt to establish balance, but it was no use.  A tree root caught on your foot, and a sharp pain jabbed in your ankle as you fell to the forest floor.  

    “Ow!” you winced, sitting up slightly on your elbows. Your eyes flashed up to glare at the culprit.  “Why did you do that?”

    A smirk appeared on his face for barely a millisecond, but it vanished just as quickly.  You wondered if you imagined it.

    “________!  Are you alright?”  A familiar voice called from behind.  Footsteps hurried through the grass and fallen leaves until a certain dwarf prince stood in front of you, his concerned blue eyes gazing at you.

    “I’m fine, I just….fell,” you replied, cheeks flushing red from embarrassment.  Of course it had to be Fili to see you like this. The only dwarf in the Company that you would have preferred not to see you falling to the ground clumsily.  Your eyes flickered to Kili briefly in irritation.

    Fili followed your gaze to his brother immediately, and put two and two together. “What did you do?”

    Kili threw his hands up, feigning innocence. “It was an accident!  I barely bumped into her, brother.  I didn’t realize she would fall so easily.”

    “You should be more careful,” Fili huffed to the dark-haired prince before turning to hold out a hand towards you with a charming smile.  “Here.”

    You offered a small grateful smile as you took his hand.  But when the strong dwarf lifted you to your feet effortlessly, the sharp pain returned to your ankle, making you crumble to your knees again.  “Ouch!”

    “What?  What’s wrong?”  Fili questioned, kneeling in front of you.  His eyes searched your face anxiously.   You didn’t mean for him to be upset, but it was kind of sweet for him to be fussing so much.        

    “It’s okay,” you assured him.  “I think I may have twisted my ankle in the fall.”

    His expression turned from anxious to serious, his eyebrows furrowing.  “Kili, go tell Oin.  Now.”

    It was strange to see Kili leaving with a smug look on his face.  What on earth was he smirking about, anyway?  There was absolutely nothing funny about the situation!  Your thoughts were interrupted by Fili sliding an arm behind your back.  

   “Can you wrap your arms around my neck?” he asked.

   You blinked.  “What?”

   “It will take Oin forever to finally understand what Kili is trying to tell him.  We might as well get you to a more comfortable spot back at camp,” he explained. You barely understood what he was saying because the close proximity with someone you fancied was throwing you off a bit.

    “You don’t have to do that,” you protested.

    “I’m not going to let you limp back to camp.” He flashed a charming grin beneath his braided moustache.  “So you might as well allow me the pleasure of helping you.”

     It only took a few seconds of his blue eyes, glinting with amusement, staring into yours for you to give in.  “Okay,” you agreed, giving a small nod.  His grin grew wider as you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck.  With one arm still around your back, he carefully slid his other arm under your legs and lifted you up with ease.  It was quiet all of a sudden, and the only sounds you could hear were his footsteps in the forest and your own heart beating wildly.  It was unbearable.

    “Thorin’s going to be mad,” you muttered.  “I didn’t get the firewood…”

    “Nevermind him,” Fili chuckled softly.  He looked down at you, and the light-hearted sound faltered as he did a double-take.  “Your hair,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  “It’s…braided.”    

    “Yeah, I know.  It was really getting on my nerves.  I’m really glad that he braided it for me.  I was having trouble finding a clip to keep it together.”

    “He?”  Now there was no mistaking the downcast expression.

    “Yes,” you nodded.  “Balin.”

    “Balin?” his brows rose incredulously for a moment. Then, he full-on laughed.  “As a gesture of grandfatherly love, I presume.”

    “Well, of course,” you laughed.  “Because I don’t have any family members on this journey to do it for me.”

    “Of course,” he repeated.   The silence in the conversation returned for a minute as Fili stepped over a particularly large fallen tree.  “I must admit, I was disappointed for a moment.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “When I thought someone else had braided your hair.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “That someone was courting you.”

    “Oh,” you blushed at the unexpected confession. “I would have been disappointed too, if it were anyone other than you.”  Your eyes widened at the realization you said that aloud.  Oh no…You probably crossed a line at that one… But to your relief, Fili was grinning.

    He opened his mouth, probably to retort with some witty flirt, but was interrupted when two members of the Company came crashing into the clearing.

    “Here’s Oin,” Kili announced.  He paused when he saw Fili carrying you and you with your arms around his neck.  He smiled slyly.  “It looks like you took things into your own hands, Fee.”

    “Well, it took you long enough to find Oin,” he retorted.

    “You might as well bring her right to camp,” Oin told him.  “I’ll have a look at her ankle then.”  The four of you continued only a few yards before emerging into the clearing where camp was.  You wanted to hide your face from Balin’s smug look as he watched Fili carefully set you down on a bedroll.  Oin knelt to take a look at your ankle.  “It’s not broken,” he announced.  “Just a sprain.  But you might want to stay off it for the rest of the night.  I’ll let Thorin know.”

    “Thank you, Oin.”

    Across the way, Balin was watching the scene with arms folded.  Kili went over to join him, and they shook hands.  Then it clicked.  Balin’s advice.  Kili randomly pushing you over “on accident” so you just happened to sprain your ankle….  

    You glanced at Fili, who watched as Oin wrapped up your injured ankle, and then you stared at Balin and Kili in absolute disbelief.   They waved back with pleasant smiles on their faces.  It looks like you took Balin’s advice, whether you wanted to or not.

Oracle [Chapter 1]

Originally posted by jypnior

Series Genre: AU/Angst/Fluff/Smut

The warm summer wind blew gently through your hair as the dulled sounds of the carnival acted as a soundtrack for your evening. Nights like this, made you reflect on just how beautiful something as simple as walking beneath the light of a full moon could be.

“So, did you have fun?” he asked, pulling you from your daze.

You turned to look at your ever faithful companion, smiling anxiously at you. He pushed back the few strands of his strawberry blonde locks that blocked his view.

Keep reading

Talking To You

It’s a lot like talking to the stars
So distant
So real
So imaginary
A light in the dark
Scientifically discussed in scholarly journals and second hand small talk

Talking to you
It’s a lot like math
Building sky scrapers and bridges
Haunting college students
Drawing perfect circles

Talking to you
It’s a lot like poetry
Raw and random
Humming doo wop
Skipping hopscotch
Abstract and cryptic
With paper lanterns igniting wild fires
Savagely molding 5,000 feelings into two lines

Talking to you
It’s a lot like time traveling
To some Polaroid in a shoebox
To a land before time
To the future
Strobe lights puttering
Tears and smiles
Confetti and neon
Lovers covered in tar and space-age technology

Talking to you
It’s a lot like self-destruction
Quick and final
Explosive and glorified
On some mountain top
Spiraling into sparks and shredded metal
Nervously twitching
Covered in sweat at four in the morning

Talking to you
It’s a lot like a symphony
Structured and sweet
Following law
Peaceful patterns overlaid
Sweeping through the air
Soft and intricate
Making the things we’ve said a thousand times twist into violent revelations

About Magnus’s lovers

Fourth chapter! Thanks again to my beautiful betas who put up with me and my Magnus fangirling <3

The show mentioned 17,000 lovers, while in the books it’s probably less, but apart from that, I think it can be useful knowing Magnus’s experience in love, even more to understand how/why he reacts or behaves in certain ways when confronted with aspects of his relationship with Alec and past lovers. I hope it’s helpful! I provided dates and bottom line summaries, so let’s get into that in chronological order.
Feel free to ask for more details or discuss an aspect you found interesting!

Quotes and references:

“The Bane Chronicles”
Shadowhunters TV Show – Season 2, Episode 04 “Day of Wrath”
Shadowhunters TV Show – Season 2, Episode 13 “Those Of Demon Blood”

1. Unnamed woman (17? – 1761)

The first lover Magnus mentions is a human woman. We don’t know her name, only that she was not his first lover, but she was the first one who stayed with him until her death. After thirty years, Magnus is still somehow suffering from the loss: he had no new lovers and he still thinks about her.

“You’re always on holiday,” Ragnor pointed out. “You’ve been on holiday for thirty years!
It was true. Magnus had not been settled anywhere since his lover died—not his first lover, but the first one who had lived by his side and died in his arms. Magnus had thought of her often enough that the mention of her did not hurt him, her remembered face like the distant familiar beauty of stars, not to be touched but to shine in front of his eyes at night.

The Bane Chronicles
What Really Happened in Peru (1791)

At this point, she is the only lover we are aware of that decided to stay with Magnus till the end, probably knowing, by then, that he was immortal. His future relationships won’t be this lovely nor faithful (with the exception of the one with Alec, of course).

  • Positive aspects: faithful.
  • Negative aspects: -
  • Knowledge: she probably knows about his immortal status.
  • Reason for breakup: her death.

2. Axel von Fersen (1791-1791) – France

They meet in Paris when Axel geos to Magnus’s house to ask for his help. Axel has heard about Magnus’s (magical) talents and he wants Magnus to help the royal family of Sweden to save the French royals (especially the queen; we are in the years of the Revolution). Magnus agrees because he’s fascinated by Axel’s beauty and courage.

Magnus states clearly that he accepted this “mission” just to get to know Axel more. Axel, however, seems to play along only to have his help, and Magnus probably knows it.

“Monsieur,” Axel said, leaning forward, “you do this as a true patriot of France!”
“I do this,” Magnus continued calmly, “to develop our friendship. I ask only to see you again when the thing is done.”
“To see me?”
“To see you, monsieur.”
Axel’s shoulders drew back a bit, and he looked down at his plate. For a moment Magnus thought it was all for nothing, that he had made the wrong move. But then Axel looked back up, and the candlelight flickered in his blue eyes.
“Monsieur,” he said, taking Magnus’s hand across the table, “we shall be the closest of friends evermore.”
This was precisely what Magnus wanted to hear.

The Bane Chronicles
The Runaway Queen (June 1791)

Magnus goes through the mission, saves who needs to be saved, delivers them to Axel and waits for all of them to go hide and be safe.

Because he involved himself in this dangerous situation, the vampires who are active in the Revolution destroy his home and kidnap (kill/turn? We don’t know precisely) his staff, Marie and Claude. Magnus then flees into the Alps and there he discovers the royals couldn’t make it out of France and were sent back to Paris. Axel managed to escape and go to Vienna to ask for help. Magnus writes to him and the reply comes after three whole weeks from Axel’s sister. She asks Magnus to help Axel, who, however, seems to have forgotten completely about Magnus. He was never interested in the first place and he clearly only wanted his help.
Magnus lost a lot because of it all, so he just gives up. It’s not worth it.

  • Positive aspects: passion and flirt.
  • Negative aspects: Axel just needs Magnus’s help and was never interested.
  • Knowledge: Axel knows about his magic (but nothing about the Downworlders).
  • Reason for breakup: it was never a relationship in the first place; Axel moved on and Magnus gave up.

3. Camille Belcourt (1857-1878) – London

I have a whole meta about his relationship with Camille, from the first encounter to their breakup so, please, refer to that for details (read here). Long story short: it was, in general, a one sided relationship (although the reference of the early 1870s in the show (episode 2x04), when Camille saved Magnus from committing suicide, and Camille’s addiction in 1977, when Magnus saved her, may suggest otherwise), with Magnus loving her, and Camille just having fun. That doesn’t mean that maybe she cared, but it was obvious she didn’t love him. She liked his immortal status, his power, his appearance and the idea of him, but she didn’t want anything serious like he did.
Magnus gave his 100% while he was used for a little fun in return.

  • Positive aspects: passion, beauty.
  • Negative aspects: no honesty or seriousness.
  • Knowledge: Camille knows about him and his status, but not about his family (at least in the books).
  • Reason for breakup: Camille cheated on him while being in Saint Petersburg.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

MTMTE Drift, Cyclonus, Megatron, Rung and TFA Prowl with an S/O who likes to stargaze?


  • Shares your awe. The universe is so vast and beautiful.
  • When you stargaze he looks at you the whole time. You ask him why and he says the stars are even more beautiful when they’re reflected in your eyes.
  • If you have trouble sleeping he cuddles with you next to a window so you can watch the stars until you fall asleep.


  • He stargazes with you on a regular basis. Most people think he’s brooding, but you’re really spending quality time together.
  • He often tells you about what the stars looked like where he’s from. His eyes are distant and nostalgic, but this is special so he’s happy to be able to share it with you.
  • He asks you what the stars look like from earth, and you sit together and just reminisce for a while.


  • It’s endearing to him the way your eyes light up when you see the stars. It also reminds him how innocent you are, and how he doesn’t deserve someone as good and pure as you. 
  • He’ll tell you as many stories as you want to hear about his travels. He also tells you about Cybertron’s constellations.
  • Sometimes he convinces Rodimus to fly to a particularly beautiful place so he can see how excited you get.


  • Thinks you’re absolutely adorable when you gush about the stars. He watches you with a serene smile as you stargaze.
  • He tells you stories about when he served on other ships. He holds the models up to the window to make them look like they’re flying through space.
  • When you’re feeling down he’ll help you make a blanket fort in front of the window and snuggle with you while you watch the stars go by.

TFA Prowl

  • He’s always up to take you stargazing. It’s nice to get away from the city sometimes.
  • He brings a tent so you can go camping. You build a fire and make s’mores before bed.
  • Neither of you talk much as you stargaze. It’s good to just know that the other is there, and you don’t need to say anything.

where dawn’s quivers
                                   swell with dew

I could not bear to stay,
to be still in this            body of twilight

river contradicts her hand where the
sun spills its blood
                     across the grim sea

for you,
                who cannot be

your image comes apart in my mouth

  is this to be alone?

there is black emptiness,
                    out of which I chant:

love is not subservience 
                    all is now different ,

what do I have that is worth offering?

bells, burying

where the crows begin their
collection of dusk

the mind of beloved ,

this ineradicable star

sweet blue like the  holy days
of distant moon,

blind to the sickly eye of oillamp

what dreams fill the magnolia
of your wrist
                       to clamor?

there is nothing else

names unfold the field,
thousands of years in love

do you remember?

that night so dark we thought
we would never close again

a faith of eyeless light

a dream that never came

waking impales us

Deception | Taeyong | Sicheng

Genre: Drama ; Mystery  

Description: He had been your world. Your world had been a lie. 

Word Count: 3800

Author’s Note: How do you even pick a bias in NCT!!!11 Seriously tho, they wreck me, I’m considering writing a “cherry bomb” inspired scenario with Yuta or Jaehyun helP. Anyway, this took me kind of long and it is kind of long lmao, please don’t leave 😂😂 also, I’ve thought about writting a second part?? I actually lost part of it and had to write it again I– ;^;  

e n j o y *^*

He smiled at you—your hand in his grasp, soft and warm, not unlike him—his eyes expectant, waiting for your answer. How was your day? Not hard to answer, yet you wondered why was it almost impossible in that instant to let out a single word, why you had to stop and rewind your every second to remember what you had for breakfast. You could talk to him about anything. The ideas that went through your head in a moment. The opinion you had on the often-discouraging news that flashed through the T.V every morning. Even the dreams, those little snips that woke you lightheaded, sometimes nauseated, or the fact that you could barely remember them. You could tell him all that and more (after a minute of pause, that is) and he would be willing to listen just as much. Why wouldn’t he? He was your boyfriend after all.

“It was alright,” you replied with all honesty. It hadn’t been the best morning, waking up with a ruthless headache and finding you’d slept in anything but comfy PJ’s.

He pouted lightly, blue eyes glimmering with mischief. “Is there any way I could help? Do you want anything else?”

He’d always been like that, Lee Taeyong, for as long as you knew him. Soft and compliant, casually naughty. You’d been together for the longest time, perhaps as long as you could remember. You often smiled at the thought, you couldn’t be more happier and safe and warm and everything. Yes, Lee Taeyong made you everything. As if you knew only him and you and nothing else in the world—as if there were nothing else in the world.

You often felt that was the case.

“I’m pretty full, actually,” you smiled after taking his offer into consideration, setting down a laminated menu. “But, thanks.”

The place wasn’t at all flashy or posh or any of the liking. A mere restaurant cornering the street that led to your apartment, it had become sort of a habit for you to visit at least once a week. You liked it, the lack of extravagancy, the smell of food and familiarity.

A friendly lady, whose name you’ve come to know was Jiwoo, approached your table. Her hair was golden and her smile bright; she worked there and you two had developed a bit of a friendship between the days you dropped by the establishment. “Is there something else you need?”

Taeyong returned the smile, “No, that’d be all, thank you.”

Jiwoo’s smile seemed to falter, something you’d come to notice happened when Taeyong was around. You didn’t give it much of a thought, though. Perhaps it was just you being over analytic.

“Here you go, then,” the flicker of seeming disdain in her eyes seemed to disappear and he offered Taeyong the bill, along with a pair of fortune cookies for which the restaurant was known for. She hurried down behind the counter not before giving you a smile, somehow off putting you with the almost overlooked veil of concern in them.

“May I?” You turned to the delicacy, placing the previous thought on the back of your mind.

“Be my guest,” Taeyong replied, running a hand through his colored hair. Pink. You weren’t going to lie; the color was unexpected. It suited his countenance, without a doubt, but there was simply something off. It wouldn’t keep you from thinking about how cute he was, however. Cute and handsome. The sharp lines and precise, almost aggressive, angles of his jaw, right above the expanses of his neck; the smooth curves of a clavicle, the glowing ivory white extent of his chest, then another; the soft locks of hair; the feathered kisses that were his eyelashes on his cheeks whenever his blue eyes came to a close. You were no artist but you itched to engrave his beauty on paper, on millions of them. You couldn’t stare enough, you felt as if he might suddenly disappear.

Noticing his smirk, you decided you might just have stared for a bit too long and cowered your eyes to the treat in your hands shyly, cracking it open.

“Be careful who you trust, the devil was an angel once.”

Well, that’s relieving, you thought. You weren’t expecting anything at all like that. You’d been ready for the short gags or generic advice or anything but that. There was an unsettling feeling on your stomach, a shiver along your back. Taeyong seemed to be battling with something in the back of his mind, but then again you couldn’t tell, you never could. Lee Taeyong was the closest thing you knew to home but his eyes were something so distant. Radiant and impossibly out of reach like a star. You knew nothing in the world but him yet sometimes you felt as if you knew anything but him. Now was one of those times. You struggled to swallow a bitter acid that clogged your throat, static at your ears, nonexistent fog clouding your vision.

“Everything good there, love?”

There it was. The word that seemed to make everything right. You waited for its effects, toxic seeping through your veins akin to anesthesia or any other mind-numbing drug. You managed to nod, though you felt you’d only been compelled to do so. Your eyes shifted away, and, as if from a distance, you saw a silhouette, the intricate outline of a man.

Dong Sicheng, you remembered. You’d seen him before—he worked there, after all. Black, no, red hair (you recalled just briefly that one time the light had shone directly upon him and you’d noted the streaks of copper and rays of scarlet), bronze skin, brown eyes, you remembered seeing him just once or twice up close, never had your eyes truly met his until now. He seemed to be looking directly at you.

His eyes were intense, a bit hostile. Then you noticed, he was not looking at you. His eyes bore directly into Taeyong—his back, really—and seemed to travel down his figure. His mouth twitched, the hands at his sides gripped into tight fists. Your eyes fell on your hand, fingers in tangles with Taeyong’s slender ones, where his eyes had stopped. You looked back at him in wonder, brows knitted together in a frown.

Now he was looking directly at you. The unwavering vehemence in his eyes made you try to tear your sight away from his yet you couldn’t. You felt lost, so sudden, a misplaced object in a broken space. The ghost of a smile in his plump lips, something you felt was so intimate and forbidden, not meant for your eyes to see.

A tug at your hand and you were up on your feet. Taeyong smiled. He had settled the bill already and was pulling you out of the establishment in a hurry, disregarding your protests about you having agreed to pay half of it. A blowing gale slapped your face, the chiming of a bell above your head, and you almost failed to turn back one last time only to notice Sicheng gone.

Taeyong’s hold on your hand failed to be gentle, its pressing force only increasing every step you took. You didn’t know where he was leading you to, you never really did, quite frankly—you had no need to question, you simply followed.

His free hand, you realized, hung in a tight fist by his side. He was clutching something, a white thin strip of paper which, after a second of thought, you distinguished as your “fortune”.

Be careful who you trust…

Your eyes darted back and forth between the vicinity. It had darkened quite suddenly and you couldn’t help but shiver at the mist of darkness and crisp that overcame you.

“Where are we going?” You asked, waiting in vain for an answer that would not come. Your hand tightened on Taeyong’s and eventually tugged. “Taeyong,” you called slightly on edge. He did not glance back, nor did he offer one of his darling smiles—his face was hidden, both under the shadows and too far away from you to notice the sharp incisors that worried at his lip.

“You had to make it more difficult than it already is.”

A hiss, barely a whisper—a warning. Then, a low throaty chuckle.

You didn’t know what took over you. Shudders far too adamant to even get a taste of the fire that seemed to sizzle the air around you. You broke free from his hand with a start and ran, not before realizing you’d been pulled into a pitch-black passage that had the faint smell of salt and flames. Too distracted by the loud palpitations by your ear and the nauseating scent, something caught your arm and you were sent backwards and onto the pavement.

Oxygen was forced out from your lungs and you lost focus along with the smallest sense of where you were and what you were. Flat palms against moisture running chills up your spine—it had rained, and you were attacked by the fresh smell of petrichor and the treacherous presence of someone behind you. You were lost, once again, but you stood nevertheless and readied yourself for a second chase.

A step. Another. A clash.

You were seized by a pair of firm arms, amusingly familiar. Not the I’ve-felt-this-before familiar but the type of familiar that came with the most pleasant of inexperiences—the one that spelled safety without being recognizable or known, the one that was simply right.

“Sicheng?” His name felt strange against your lips, like a foreign delicacy that had only ever been desired but not once tasted. You’d never actually said his name aloud; there wasn’t a need for he usually remained behind the counter and, if not, only ever crossed words with you in a meticulously brief manner. His eyes seemed to glimmer a dark brown even under the dark wave of night hovering above you.

“Are you in pain? Did he do anything to you?” His words came out in a fluster; the desperation in them produced panic from within you. His hands gripped at your shoulders and you felt as if you might break. Not because they clung onto you with such strength—which surprisingly did not hurt in any way—but because they felt as if they were the very reason why in that moment you were standing. Because you did not know why Sicheng might think Taeyong would hurt you—and because you did not know why you suddenly considered it possible.

It was just a flash of hesitancy, gone as fast as it had arrived. “No. No, he wouldn’t…” You replied with a sort of unwavering certainty. You knew Lee Taeyong. Your Taeyong. Who had made his way into your heart with impossible vehemence– your heart that did not let just anyone in, your heart that only ever held him.

Sicheng sighed, a long, restless noise as if from someone who’d been dealing with a fight and realized that it wasn’t over just yet. You felt like you might fall when he released you from his hold but when he reached to frame your face with his hands, a thumb tracing the expanses of your cheek, you felt like you might utterly collapse.

He drew his forehead to yours and spoke in the softest, most tender of voices, “Good. If something were to happen to you again,” his head shook against yours in denial. “I would not stop them. I would let them dispose of me as best they like this time.”

You couldn’t bear his closeness, suddenly, and backed away in almost leaping steps. It could have appeared cartoonish if it weren’t for his reaction—he did not find it funny, his eyes reflected the night and dark and the deepest of sorrows and it hurt. It hurt to see the desperation as he took another step forward and you did nothing but take one backward.

And you felt desperate, too. Perhaps it’d been his words—if something were to happen to you again—because just what did he mean by that? Or maybe it was the fact that you did not know where Taeyong went or what happened to him and why it mattered a bit less than it should. Your mind could not concentrate in anything but the rippling fire that surged from where Sicheng had touched; your shoulder blades through your coat; your cheeks and forehead through no barrier; and it scared you. The burning thrill of it all did.

“You, what do you mean by that?” You managed to whisper. Your hands were stilled in front of you to offer protection, though for some reason you doubted Sicheng might try to hurt you.

That line from your fortune burned at the back of your mind and you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t trust anyone. Not Jiwoo who had appeared to be the only familiar face in that restaurant and whom you suddenly remembered, nor Sicheng whose hands had been so pleasurably tender. No, you reminded yourself, not anyone but Taeyong.

Sicheng seemed to have a tough time coming up with an answer, either because he hadn’t planned for one or it mentally consumed him to think about it. Anyway, you found it was one more reason to be wary of him. “He really erased them,” he answered, finally. He looked as if he’d been expecting, as if whatever he meant by that could only but be certain. “He really erased you.”

Your brows furrowed and as an instinct you glanced down at yourself. You were, well, you. There was nothing strange, out-of-the-norm about you. Sure, you’d lost a bit of weight—the tiniest bit, you weren’t sure why but lately you’d lost your appetite and nothing enticed you either—but you weren’t disappearing.

“I don’t understand,” you sounded rather apologetic as your head shook. “Erased? Who is ‘he’, exactly?”

“Taeyong. I’m talking about Taeyong.”

The bile and detestation with which he said it had the hairs at the back of your neck rising. Sicheng, you had to admit, looked dangerous. From his long, dark red bangs to his sole posture and lean physique. He was the kind of dangerous to be somewhat afraid of—the hidden, never expected kind.

“Is there something wrong with him?” You couldn’t help but wonder. Had there been anything between the two of them you didn’t know of?

His perilous gaze turned soft again, a bit melancholic. It gave you some kind of relief. “Don’t worry about him, worry about yourself.”

“How can I not worry, he’s my boyfriend, all I love.” Maybe the last part had been a bit too much, you realized belatedly.

“No, he’s not.”

Too late you realized he’d closed the space between you. His hand clung at your wrist with a gentle forcefulness which only seemed to be possible in him, and the other circled your waist and positioned itself more tenderly on the small of your back. You could feel his lungs expanding and contracting with every breath and the wild palpitations of his heart against you. You could see his breaths against the cold, dark night and his eyes, impossible windows of menace and hazard and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t stand here listening to you calling him your lover after we—dammit. I can’t, and I don’t want to, I need you to know. Call me fucking selfish, it won’t stop me. Even if the king might want me beheaded by tomorrow morning, at least I had this one night with you, this one moment. And you need to know, I know it’s not the best way but it’s your right, you would want it this way. So please, My Lady, remember.”

You were mute. Your eyes did not waver, they held his, but you couldn’t help the blinding pain in your head that caused you to recoil lightly in his arms, which still, so strangely, held you.

“Please, if you could not bite your lip.” It’d barely been a whisper, clearly not intended for you to hear, but you managed to do so either way. That woke you up.

You collected all your strength on that one swing. A single punch and his grasp had dissolved to nothing. You massaged your hand, waiting for the pain that never came. You decided you couldn’t do enough damaged so you readied yourself for a second swing. You did until he finally looked back at you.

You were taken aback—you had never been the violent type. Blood dripping from a cut on his lips told you otherwise. You felt sick that you managed to hurt him like that—yes, he had been weirdly close but perhaps if you moved him aside first you wouldn’t have had to do that—and took a step forward with every intention to help when he held his hand up to stop you.

His gaze lowered and you heard him laugh. An actual laugh, a joyous laugh, the kind of when you’re told the funniest, most clever joke or simply given an exquisite treat.

“I was wrong,” he gasped, redirecting his eyes towards you. You saw the tiniest gleam of pride and adoration and amusement all the same. “You’re still here.”

Confusion seemed to have become a part of you but you did not hesitate to answer. “I’ve always been.”

Sicheng was awestricken in all his usual calm and collectedness, which gave you a moment of fleeting pride, as he straightened himself before taking a small step toward you. You did not back away this time, instead you raised your hands tight in fists, you felt more confident about your skills.

He called your name for the first time, softly, as if finally savoring something he had been deprived of for the longest time. He began towards you when a voice ripped through the night.

“Have you been looking for me, love?”

Your eyes darted immediately from Sicheng to the owner of the voice. You knew, of course you did. If the tone of his voice hadn’t convinced you—which, really, was nearly impossible, you’d memorized every word and sound of him—the other certainly did, the little hope, the little “love”.

Without a second thought, you started for him, when something caught your wrist. You turned to look at the culprit. “Don’t go,” his voice was demanding, yet you could hear the silent plea. “Please.”

But how could you not go, when he was all you had? How could you not go, when he was your “love”?

“Let’s go back home, baby. Don’t waste our time.”

And you finally looked at him. He was different, very much so. Cotton candy pink replaced by black, so very dark it could easily blend as a shadow, perhaps even a smudge of charcoal on a drawing. The only thing darker were his eyes. They were the depths of the sea where murderous creatures hid and monstrosities dwelled. Taeyong had always been art to you, surreal beauty—the menace and hazard did little to change the fact.

Suddenly you felt the warmth by your wrist gone and saw Sicheng leaping forward. A swift movement against the dark, he seemed to dance in the night. And he seemed to glimmer. Though, belatedly you realized, the object which he held outstretched towards Taeyong. And you screamed.

“Taeyong!” The shrill of your voice frightened even you and you ran forward until then not.

Taeyong collapsed. And your world collided.

You fell on your knees, stiff and rigid, a death weight. Your mind was clogged with the image. Sicheng, the figure of grace, spiraling in the night; a gleaming dagger; Taeyong; the perfect puncture to the heart. Blood rushed savagely through your system and you were momentarily deaf, you failed to listen.

“How does it feel,” he smiled, the inside of his mouth tinted with scarlet blood, the aroma of metal alive and enduring. “How does it feel to know she’s no longer yours, little warrior.”

Sicheng was still, disgust clear in his features as what had been Taeyong vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving the reek of salt and inferno behind. Figures, Sicheng thought, straightening up.

“He…” Your voice was silent—you had managed to regain strength at the last moment to see Taeyong vanish into nothing. “He…disappeared.”

“It wasn’t him,” Sicheng replied curtly, a bit cold, a bit distant. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye briefly before returning to his dagger, free from any vital body fluids. “It was an illusion, a deception. I do not know where he learned that from, but it could be dangerous.”

You wanted to joke and say that he looked more dangerous with a dagger than Taeyong would ever be but decided it would be best not to.

“Listen,” his hands clenched by his sides, he seemed hesitant. He did not reach for you. “I promised you once I will not lie to you, and I will not. Nothing about Taeyong is real. None of it. He is not whom he appears to be nor whom you think he is. He has lied. To you, to everyone. Countless of times. You cannot trust him, for your safety, you cannot.”

And then, you truly knew your world had collided. You felt as if your breath had suddenly decided to rip itself out from your body, leaving you trembling, gasping. Taeyong had been your world. Now it was taken away from you. But how, just how were you to live from then on? You had lost everything with him, and it wasn’t an understatement. You had found a home in him, a friend, a lover. And it had all been a hoax. Your life had been one.

Sicheng sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and slowly found the courage to place his hand over yours; waited for your reaction, and gripped it tightly, intertwining, unaware and in the most subtle of ways, his fingers with yours. “You are not alone. You have thousands behind you, believe it or not. And you have me,” his hand gave yours a little squeeze, a small notice, perhaps a supplication. “Please do remember you have me.”

You could only but nod. You didn’t know what you were agreeing to but, really, you had no other choice. Sicheng was perchance the only other “someone” in your life. One of the few constants in it and, somehow, you had already decided you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted to trust him. You truly did. But, as his hand brushed strands of hair tenderly away from your face, you smiled and couldn’t help remembering,

the devil was an angel once, after all.

todreamforever  asked:

modern kanej + airports/airplanes?

when the roles are switched, stars as close as city lights, cities distant like stars, she’s bookend by a stranger and a window, trapped in a boundless state of in-between—leaving her world for another. though she’s passionate about her charities and traveling from country to country is inevitable, she thinks about the warm bed she’s leaving behind, the too bitter coffee, the warm hands. she looks toward the expanse of sky, overwhelmed by the feel of her own heart pounding in her chest as she’s dragged farther and farther away from him. her home. her desires exist in two separate realms. 

she wonders if it’ll always feel like this, dreaded concessions and sacrifices, if she’ll always feel like she’s leaving a part of herself behind. she presses her palm flat against the cold glass, feels her stomach dip as the plane climbs, and she thinks i miss you already.

trying to focus on the positives, she thinks two weeks ahead when she’ll return, when the plane declines for landing, and she’ll feel the pull to the ground. the pull home. it always feels like she’s falling. and he’s always waiting, fidgeting, watching—stretching his neck to see past the too tall strangers, the wrong suits and the families, tapping his cane restlessly. until their eyes meet and he gapes as if he’s seeing her for the first time, his body relaxes with a deep sigh of relief. and they’d maneuver around the assembly of people to get toward each other, she’d abandon her suitcase along the way, still reeling, and falling, falling, falling. then his hands would find hers and he’d smile the way he only does around her, lowering his forehead onto hers, the cool mint of his breath on her lips. she’d close her eyes and he’d squeeze her hands tight and she’d feel as if she finally stopped falling—and she was caught.


Summary: Three years after the murder of Jason Blossom, Jughead Jones begins writing his second novel in the comfort of Pop’s chocklit shoppe.
(Adult) Jughead Jones x OC

Words: ~1700

Author’s Note: Okay, so I got tangled in the messy obsession that is Riverdale. This is the result. I wasn’t sure if anyone would want to be tagged because this is far outside of my normal writing fandoms, so I’m just gonna, kinda, let it out there.

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

There’s a cup of coffee on the left. A vanilla milkshake on the right. A laptop in between, the screen glaring white in the darkness of Pop’s, and he absently stares at the words on the screen, the text blurring together in some sort of hieroglyphs because he’s been staring so long. Reaching out, his fingers brush the ceramic coffee cup and pull it to his lips, but he’s startled when he tips it back and it’s empty. There’s grounds in the bottom of the cup, like some Gypsy’s tea reading, and he wonders if his future lies in empty coffee cups and melting milkshakes.

“Need a refill?”

Jughead blinks once, twice, sitting the cup down, slightly off-center from the rings the cup has created on the tabletop. The coffee steams and his eyes trail up it, to the spout of the brassy coffee urn, over the white knuckles wrapped around the handle, the rings on slender fingers reflecting the purple lights of the chocklit shoppe.

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Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

We clung to each other, unwilling to let go even long enough to start a fire or light a candle.

At length Jamie rose, and picking me up, carried me to the settle, where he sat with me cradled on his lap. The door of the cottage still hung open, and we could see the stars beginning to burn over the valley below.

Do you know,” I said drowsily, “that it takes thousands and thousands of years for the light of those stars to reach us? In fact, some of the stars we see may be dead by now, but we won’t know it, because we still see the light.”


He stood quite still, face turned upward to the stars. Fought back the surge of fury as it murmured in his ear, the pulse of memory in his blood. Then made himself surrender, let it come. He trembled with remembered helplessness, and clenched his teeth in rage—but stared unblinking at the brightness of heaven overhead, invoking the names of the stars as the words of a prayer, abandoning himself to the vastness overhead as he sought to lose himself below. 

Betelgeuse. Sirius. Orion. Antares. The sky is very large, and you are very small

Let the words wash through him, the voice and its memories pass over him, shivering his skin like the touch of a ghost, vanishing into darkness. 

The Pleiades. Cassiopeia. Taurus. Heaven is wide, and you are very small. 

-Drums of Autumn

I turned my head to let the breeze smooth the hair from my face, and found that I could see a long, narrow swath of sky above the distant gorge, gone a deep, unearthly blue, as though the fragile layer of atmosphere that covered the earth grew thinner still, and the darkness of space beyond shone through. 

The stars began to prick out, one by one, and I managed to lose myself in watching, counting them as they appeared, one by one by onetouching them as I might the beads of a rosary, and saying to myself such astronomical names as I knew, comforting in their sound, even though I had no idea whether such names bore any relation to the celestial bodies I saw. Alpha Centauri, Deneb, Sirius, Betelgeuse, the Pleiades, Orion … I succeeded in soothing myself to the extent that I dozed off.

-A Breath of Snow and Ashes

“D’ye see the sky?” he said, a little later. It was a pure deep violet at the horizon, fading into a blue-black immensity overhead, and the early stars burned like distant lamps. 

“Hard to miss,” I said. 

“Aye.” He sat with his head tilted back, looking up, and I admired the clean line of his long, straight nose, his soft wide mouth and long throat, as though seeing them for the first time. “Is it not a void there?” he said quietly, still looking up. “And yet we’re no afraid to look.” 

“There are lights,” I said. “It makes a difference.”

-Written In My Own Hearts Blood 

i see your regional gothic and i will raise you: outer space gothic
  • You know it is breathtaking and beautiful, so striking that you are not sure you believe it even though you’ve never known your senses to lie. It is beautiful and yet there is something creeping at the edge of your vision, floating behind you and twinkling like a distant star, always blinking out of existence as soon as you turn your head.
  • It is the silence that suffocates you more than anything, more than the lack of oxygen, the pressure on your lungs that feels so foreign. It is a silence so crushing, and then there is a whisper. Radio broadcasts from an earthly war long past bounce between the stars, and occasionally you catch a glimpse of one, full of static and desperation–or, you think you do. You can never really tell what’s real, out here.
  • You are floating somewhere inside Ursa Major, and while each bone is light years from the next, you cannot help but feel like you have indeed been swallowed by some great beast, devoured whole and left to decay in the everlong darkness.
  • They say we are all made up of stardust; it is supposed to make us feel sacred. Instead you feel compressed, you look at the vastness and feel it pulsing inside of you, the bright stars calling every molecule home. You see planets, bold and looming, you feel yourself being pulled into their orbits against your will.
  • You have yet to encounter a black hole, but you are bracing yourself. You know that the silence and emptiness you are experiencing now are childsplay, that getting swallowed with the light will burn more than the fire of any star could. You feel the universe expanding, flowing as if from your fingertips, reaching for something, some endless light beyond it all that you cannot see. You know with every part of you that it is there.
[Compliments To The Chef #10]

Series: Fairy Tail.
Pairing: Gajevy.
Setting: Restaurant/Chef/Roommates AU.
Rating: M for sexual content and language.
Other Chapters: HERE.

Summary: Budding chef Gajeel Redfox is about to get a taste for the phrase: “If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” when runaway Levy McGarden starts waiting tables at his restaurant – and living in his home.

A/N: Those of you following me will likely know of my uncomfortable predicament at home. Between personal issues, work and school I’ve had no time to do any writing. I’m really sorry about the wait. I hope this chapter is feelsy enough to make it up to you. // I asked my friend about the time she broke her wrist but, naturally, since I’ve never broken a bone I can only base this chapter on research and second-hand experiences. If there’s anything that seems off or peculiar with you, please let me know so I can correct it!

Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me –  Sarah Bernhardt.

Chapter Ten: Food For Thought

Gajeel’s mother was smiling. The kind of smile she used when guilt and love warred inside her; when she longed to protect him but knew, in the deepest reaches of her mind, that there was nothing she could do. She shuffled quietly towards him, barefoot and timid in the muted light. Her eyes were soft and forgiving, shining like distant stars. 

‘You’re doing your best, aren’t you?’

Gajeel blinked. His hands felt so tiny, so fragile, as she took them into her own. She smoothed her thumbs over his knuckles, unravelling tension knotted deep within his muscles, and kissed the backs of his hands. His body felt strangely far away, as though he were watching the experience from the outside. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, afraid to meet her gaze. ‘It was my fault. You died because…’

His mother’s smile widened. ‘You’re a force to be reckoned with, my son,’ she said, brushing a hand through his hair, ‘but no single force, certainly not yours, can be held accountable for every tragedy.’

‘But I–’

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Through the Night (밤편지)

Hello guys! this is a long fic ever I’ve written in my second language. After I finised with 1837 word counts, I was like omg, what lawlu fandom did to me, how did I write it?

Again, without the big help for them, this fic wouldn’t be completed @lululawlawlu and @haigidal  THEY BOTH ARE COOL! DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THEIR TUMBLR! 

By the way, plese enjoy it! 

SUMMARY:: I asked him how can we know when we love someone, and this is how Torao answered.

“Why don’t you wake up at 2 AM.  Go to the deck. Watch the stars and the moon, to appreciate how amazing the night sky can be even though they are unreachable.”

“I know the sky with the moon and the shining stars are beautiful, but how does that answer my question, stupid Torao!”

“Because.” Torao said calmly, “When you love someone, you are going to feel like you’re gazing at a distant star when you look in his eyes. So bright that you don’t know if the stars exist anymore, because every goddamn star is in his eyes, more real to you than anything you’ve ever seen.”

                                    Through the Night (밤편지) 


I’m hungry.

Even though we had just finished a party in the evening, and because today gave me a feeling that we should hold a party for whatever reason, I didn’t care but I am a captain so everyone had to do what I said. I ate and (tried to) steal my friend’s food a lot, drank Torao’s beer because that man was sick so he couldn’t join the party. Instead, he had to sleep in the infirmary room. I felt sad for him that he missed the party- our party with meat! If I were him, I would never skip it. Torao is a serious man who believes that the only thing I do is making trouble or do some-funny-stupid-things. I disagreed- because what is the point to enjoy your life if you’re always serious with everything?

Life is a mixed-meat buffet and we won’t know which kind of meat is good or worse, so that’s the reason why we shouldn’t use our heads too much. In the end, we still have to eat it, because to throw the meat away is a crime. I can’t forgive anyone who would do that! (Except for if they give it to me, which only Torao would do. No way in hell Nami, Zoro or Sanji would give meat to me, they always complained about how I ate too much!)

Before I went to the party. I had been trying to convince Torao to stay with me on the deck so I could have looked after him because who the hell knows if Torao would behave well, stay in his bed or eat pills that Chopper ordered him to eat. Nevertheless, Robin told me that Torao was a doctor so I had no need to worry about him, and yes, stupid Torao had to agree with her, offering his meal to me because he didn’t want to eat anything. Yeah, it should have been like that but I couldn’t help myself from worrying about him.

Why couldn’t the smart ones like Robin and Torao see my point?  Yet, they considered themselves the smart ones- especially Torao whom I could easily recall was making his face for when he looked at me like I’m an idiot. No, mister, sometimes you were as stupid as me.Plus, with his over thinking habit, he was destroying himself to the point that his smile was rarer than gold. Rarely did I see his smile. I knew for the first time that his smile was the best!

Oh god, I was thinking about Torao too much. I needed to stop now before I got lost in Toraoland again. I decided to ignore his grumpy face that showed up in my mind and walked on tiptoes to the kitchen. After that, I pulled the refrigerator handle to open it, but it was locked! How!? That surprised me because I had hidden the lock in the gym so confidently that Sanji had no chance to find it. If I remembered right, Sanji had only one lock. Then how could he find it? Did Zoro help him? I was going to ask him tomorrow. Zoro should know better, that we can’t live without food, so why the hell did he do this to me!  

Fuck you, Zoro. I swore by tomorrow every sake bottle would be gone.

I was really pissed off now that I wanted to kick Zoro’s ass but my stomach was growling hard. I didn’t have enough energy. I was dying of hunger.

“Oh my god,” I mumbled to myself, “why doesn’t Torao wake up now so he can use his power to open this damn refrigerator! I’m so hungry…”

I did the math in my head. What should I do next with empty stomach? A moment passed to the conclusion that maybe, I should watch the night sky so I could forget the hunger.

I had walked to the front deck before I froze. My body couldn’t do anything. Even breathing became so hard and my eyes couldn’t look any other way except at that wonderful thing - the thing I didn’t expect to see.

 In the night sky that should make us apart, there existed the moon which was shining through by its light, covering the surface of the endless sea. But only the showing path isn’t enough to confront us. We need a little more hope to tell us that tomorrow will come. There they were, the countless stars which embraced the lonely moon.

He was standing there under the moonlight which was sharpening the features of his body. His wide shoulders in the long white t-shirt, his dark hair color that has a hint of blue, and his tall body. Despite the fact that I could see only his back, my heart was racing so fast that I was afraid he could notice me because of the heart’s beating sound. Well, I didn’t know how someone could look as good as if he had just walked out of the fairy tale book I’d seen one, but now he was there, on my ship, watching the night sky alone.

One memory popped up in my brain out of the blue. It was the day before yesterday. Torao read a drama fiction to me due to his reason that he couldn’t ignore my stubborn ‘play with me Torao’ mode so he had decided to read for me. It was quite a surprise that I found his fiction book was more interesting than I had thought, however, there was one thing I couldn’t understand clearly so I asked him -

“Why do they (the main characters) kiss so much? It’s going to piss me off!”

Torao stared at me, then his lips curved a bit into a small smile.

A deep thought inside me wanted to make him smile more, every time, with me, me alone. Never did I know how selfish I could become until Torao had walked into my life and I had no idea why.

“Because they love each other, and kissing is one of many ways to show how much you love someone, but sometimes you don’t have to love someone enough to kiss him.”

“It sounds complicated… Does it mean Zoro and Sanji are a couple because I’ve seen them kiss one time before.”

Torao’s face became red as if somebody had painted his cheeks with tomato juice while his golden eyes turned the other way.

“I don’t know, but I think there is something going on between them. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. You should ask them by yourself. I’m sure they will tell you.”

“Then how do you know when you love someone, Torao?”

“Why do you ask me, Straw Hat-ya? Go to ask Blackleg-ya!”

I bit my lip. Something told me this question must be resolved by his answer, not Sanji who is the love professional. I stared into his eyes and he did the same. We stared at each other a while until he was the first one to break it. Torao sighed heavily, looking at me like he didn’t know what to do with me anymore. He didn’t have to think about it. It was stupid, just do it! I don’t mind as long as Torao was the one who did!

“Why don’t you wake up at 2 AM.  Go to the deck. Watch the stars and the moon, to appreciate how amazing the night sky can be even though they are unreachable.”

“I know the sky with moon and shining stars are beautiful, but how does it answer my question, stupid Torao!”

“Because.” Torao said calmly, “When you love someone, you are going to feel like you’re gazing at a distant star in his eyes. So bright that you don’t know if the stars exist because every goddamn star is in his eyes, more real to you than anything you’ve ever seen.”



I asked. Then he turned his back to face me. It was Torao, but why? Shouldn’t he have been sleeping now? He was sick! He should have been asleep now, absolutely not to standing here, alone, at 2 AM.

"What’re you doing here?”

I walked faster to him than I meant to because my legs wouldn’t listen to my brain then, stopping automatically in front of the other. When I saw him clearly, I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I knew Torao was a handsome looking man with his tall body, the rebellion earrings, the black ink tattoos, and also that I’m cool and I don’t give a fuck about you face. But the problem was this: to be too god-damn good in this thin shirt was too much, I couldn’t accept it! I didn’t want him to wear the white t-shirt again, and please don’t look at me with those dangerous eyes. I could have screamed out, waking everybody out of the blue because of it!

His golden eyes were shining like his piercing earrings.

"The stars.”

I blurted out.


“The stars…”

I could see the sparkling stars in his eyes, it was too bright and so fantastic. It took me a lot of effort to take my eyes off of him. So hard, it was so hard to look somewhere else except his eyes but I needed to prove one thing. Then I watched the stars in the night sky, wondering why they weren’t as bright as those I saw in Torao’s eyes.

Nami told me once the stars were real, no faking one. If we were lost, we should look for the brightest star in the north. I tried to look for the brightest star in the enormous sky but it was nowhere.

Then I looked into Torao’s eyes again.

Oh, I found it.

It was there.

The brightest star was there in his golden eyes.

“Straw Hat-ya?”

Because of his voice, every single piece that had been up in the air was putting itself back together into the picture that I never knew it was before.

The stars were too bright and unreachable. I didn’t know what was real anymore.

I pulled him to me, then kissed him.

Kissing was neither as hard nor as bad as I thought. Instead, it was like cotton candy, coffee, a winter kiss, a sea wind, being mixed up into a drug.

When I used my tongue in his mouth. I knew instantly that everything I’d been looking for was lying here.

Was it real?

Am I real?

Is he real?

Did he kiss me back?

I don’t want to know anymore.

I pulled him away then pushed him hard onto his back, kissing him over and over again until I found out where the real stars existed.

don’t aim to be like the stars. don’t be distant, don’t go so far. stars burn bright, but stars die. i would not see you go, be it fiery explosions, or deathly silent absorptions. be like the sky; be the canopy that harbours all that light.
—  so i can see you shine, whether it’s day or nights.a.s. | icarus rising #2