my fandom contribution for the week hello


Hello there! So it’s Nalu week for the Fairy Tail fandom so i thought I’d contribute some SADNESS I’m so SORRY. 

ANYWAY, here is a E.N.D. scenario with a possible SUPER DUPER SAD ENDING. AGAIN I’M SO SORRY.


Hello! It’s your not so local yoonmin stan sugainmycoffee sugainmystocking. I recently it’s been weeks reached 5k almost onto 6k welp followers and my god that such an unbelievable and amazing feat for a blogger who doesn’t write or draw or contribute much to the fandom aside from shit posting o_o. I wish I could thank each and everyone of you personally but that would take forever so as a way to show my gratitude I’m finally doing a follow forever! should have done this 2k ago but yeah :’) 

Since this is a sideblog it would be hard to track mutuals and tbh I dont wanna pick out favourites bc you all run great blogs and make my dash a happier place THUS none of that highlight/underline stuff. Everyone is equally loved in this list <3

I’m gonna limit this to my bangtan/kpop related follows bc that’s all this sideblog pertains to. 

Keep reading

Flowery ash and consumed seed

Hello my lovelies, as promised this is my contribution to the Klaroline Hades/Persephone week. 

Her house reeks of flowers.


The two flower shops in town had been sold out of the damn things ever since her mother’s death had been announced.

White lilies.

The flower of death and mourning.

Because she needs to be reminded at every turn that her mother is dead and that she is now an orphan.

Every time she steps out of the house to seek fresh air, unpolluted by the sickly, sweet stench of flowers she is set upon by neighbours and well-intentioned locusts that feed off her grief.

Mystic Falls isn’t her hometown anymore, it’s an obstacle course populated by eyes that are all too eager to watch her like she’s an attraction.

An animal in a zoo.

A creature in a cage.

She wants to be free.

She wants to escape and…

Go where? Do what?

What is left for her?

Study? She dropped out of Whitmore and can’t see the point in going back, her friends aren’t really there and why should she get a degree? So she can slave away in an entry-level job and claw her way to the top when she could compel herself any position she wants? Why waste four years when she could walk away tomorrow with a piece of paper that declared her a PhD graduate?

Yet she needs something to fill the lonely hours that Damon had foreseen in her immediate future only that very morning.


The charities and societies she’d previously thrived upon now set her teeth on edge and made her fingers curl at the thought of another pastel and high tea meeting with grating laughter and talk of Founding Family functions.

More and more the urge to turn off her humanity, to flip the switch called to her. 

To lose her grief, her pain, her humiliation.

No. She would not think of him. She wouldn’t think of the rejection she’d suffered literally over her mother’s cold, dead body.

A knock at the door and she jumps, coming back down to her living room and the darkening night outside. She runs her hands over the skirt of her dress.

She’s still wearing her funeral dress. At least this was a new outfit, as opposed to the horrible wardrobe in the guest bedroom of the Salvatore mansion where she, Elena and Bonnie had hung their black mourning clothes. The clothes they never had time to grow out of in between uses.

She blinks and spins on her heel, walking slowly to the front door and freezing when, even without the porch light being on, she can see the tell-tale blonde curls.

“You swore that you’d never come back” she utters in disbelief, leaning against the door as she stares at him.

Klaus is dressed entirely in black but his golden hair, blazing eyes and red lips aren’t the colour of grief or empty rooms or funeral pamphlets. His curls carry the colour of the sun he should be forbidden to walk in. His eyes are oceans where the water is warm and the sand visible beneath your feet. His lips…his lips are threats of seduction and drowning passion that banishes grief from memory.

“I’m a liar, sweetheart” he holds his hands behind his back, wearing the costume of a gentleman instead of Death’s most beloved worshipper.

“I thought this could be considered special circumstances” he adds with just the hint of nervousness when she doesn’t respond.

And she doesn’t. She can’t. She’s spoken every last sentiment and polite recitation until they are poison on her tongue that makes her want to vomit on her shoes.

She turns away and staggers back to the living room, losing the strength to continue standing and bearing her grief she sinks down onto the coffee table and buries her head in her hands,

“May I come in love?”

She runs her fingers through her hair, 

“There’s no one left Klaus” she calls, “There’s no barrier”

“I know” he pauses, “May I come in love?”

What’s one more symbol of death in this house?

At least his scent will penetrate the odour of the lilies, dissipate it until she’s no longer choking.

She closes her eyes as his shoes thud against the foyer floorboards,
“Are you eating?” he asks concernedly and she notes he doesn’t bother to slap her with the inane sympathies of those who only momentarily cared.

“I would have done anything you asked if you’d saved her” Caroline moans,
“I would have let you take me wherever you wanted, however you wanted, in the middle of the town square with Tyler watching if you’d just saved her”  

He sighs, “Cancer is incurable even in our world, Caroline. Vampire blood only causes the cells to multiply faster and magic…magic can reduce the cancerous cells, even make them disappear altogether for twenty-four hours and then they replicate again, in the exact same place. If I could have offered your mother a solution that wouldn’t have condemned her to a lifetime of suffering, I would have- without expectation of reward” he adds and she smirks but keeps her face buried in the safety of her hands.

“Shall I fetch you something to eat?”

“Pomegranate” she decides, “There’s a pomegranate in the fruit bowl, you could hand-feed me the seeds”

He chuckles lightly, “Would you eat them if I gave them to you?”

She’s rocking now, her body is rocking from- take your pick- exhaustion, grief, loneliness, an empty future…

“Take off your clothes and I’ll lick them off your stomach” she offers, lifting her head to stare at him in challenge as she wraps her arms around herself. He’s leaning against the doorjamb and his face goes stony at her proposition,

“Not here you won’t” he informs her, “Not in your mother’s house”

The switch beckons, one moment, one second and she’ll be free. Free of the agony, free of the fear, free of the longing for the man in front of her.

Sharp fingers grab her chin and tilt it upwards harshly, 

“You won’t turn off your humanity in Mystic Falls” his voice is cold, commanding, regal,

“If you want to lose yourself you can do it outside of your hometown, so you can return later and not be burdened by the memories”

That made sense, she admits this to herself as she watches him silently; his eyes boring down into hers, stripping her soul naked.

But the thought of ever being in Mystic Falls again made her want to scream.

“Meet me back here in one hour” she grabs his arms so that she can pull herself up,

“If you want to make yourself useful before then…” she gazes around at every available surface in her house, “Burn the damn flowers”

And make her a crown of thorns with a chalice of salt so she need never see another bud burst forth from the earth ever again.

Stefan answers the door at the Salvatore Boarding House and she can see the apprehension in his eyes, along with something softer, the tenderness he’d always shown her and the hint of lust he’d been feeling apparently against his will for the last several months,

“Hey” he murmurs, letting her in and following her to the parlour, 

“I was just about to come see you”

His tie is gone and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. He would have stepped into her mother’s house with the vestiges of mourning already gone.

She hasn’t even been buried for twelve hours yet.

She clasps her hands in front of her and takes a steadying breath, “I’m leaving”

His handsome face falls and his brow furrows in concern and confusion, 


“I’m leaving Mystic Falls…tonight” she clarifies, “I’m sorry”

And she is.

She’s sorry for all the times she’s thrown herself at him when he doesn’t want her, she’s sorry for all the times he’d made him feel awkward or pressured, she’s sorry that their friendship suffered.

He shakes his head, “Caroline, I know you’re hurting right now and the pain goes so deep you don’t think that you’ll ever be able to rise above it but running away isn’t the answer, where would you even go?”

“New Orleans” she looks down with the lingering remnants of guilt and embarrassment, her friends won’t like this.

“Klaus is here isn’t he?” Stefan’s voice is breathless with shock.

She nods, she’s about to say that he came to see how she was doing but realises that would be a lie. 

He didn’t come to comfort her. 

He came to collect her.

“I want to get away from everything and he’s offering me that chance”

“I can offer you that chance”

In a flash he’s across the room and she gasps as he picks her up in his arms, kissing her passionately, tongue, teeth and bruised lips until they were both out of breath.

“Caroline,” he groans her name like a dying man, “I love you!”

“No” she sighs, licking her lip and pulling herself out of his embrace, 

“You don’t Stefan, you don’t love me now and you’re not sure you ever will and that’s okay but Klaus…Klaus is in love with me, he adores me and gives me that certainty, the knowledge that I’ll be his first and last choice in love”

“What will you even do in New Orleans?”

She smiles with wry humour, turning away from him, 

“I’ll be Queen. Queen of the Dead and the Damned maybe but still a queen”

“Caroline!” he shouts as she walks out of the house, not looking back even once as he continued calling for her. Eventually she was immersed in the darkness and lost to his sight.

When she returns to the house it’s to find that Klaus had had the good sense to burn the lilies in the backyard. Having gathered them into a pile and reduced them quickly to a smouldering mess.

She rests her elbow on his shoulder and delights in the dying ashes before her.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” he asks, not looking up and she smirks, turning her hand over to show the now-seedless pomegranate, “Ready and willing”

“Travelling light are we?” he notes as she leads the way to his car, carrying nothing but the clothes on her back. She shrugs, 

“In twenty miles you’ll be out of this place and I’ll be a completely different person. I don’t want or need anything right now, except you”

He grins and opens the car door for her, “Your chariot, my queen”

Her answering smile is almost genuine.

The legends that pervade their world, their kingdom are almost entirely false.

The Evil King of the Dead kidnapped a Sweet, Innocent Maiden and forced her to live with him, forced her to share his bed and live as his wife.

Yet, if the maiden was so desperately unhappy- why did she relish being Queen? Why did she never seek to overthrow this Evil King? Why did she not appeal to her allies and friends for aid? Why didn’t she use her considerable intelligence and beauty to turn his people against him and destroy him?

Perhaps because she loved him?

And because she could no longer stand the smell of flowers.