too much green for my taste

No one ever told me how hard it would be to get out of bed when I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be awake. And when my heart is a million shades of broken blues and purples and my head is a mess of splattered oranges and greens and it’s not art it’s hell and I feel sick. When I wake up day after day with a pounding in my head because for a night I wanted to forget and put a mixture of vodka and rum in my stomach and fill my lungs up with too much smoke and my mouth is so dry and I’m so in love but my head is mush and my heart doesn’t work so how could this be love. And I’ll kiss people I shouldn’t because I’d rather be with anyone than no one and all I can taste is you and I’ll take another shot and I’ll spend all night sobbing in the bathroom because I can’t get you out of my head and oh god please get out of my head.
—  I don’t want to think about you anymore
Personal Favourite Agatha and Tedros Dialogue - Book Three.

“That cat is Satan” Tedros hissed, watching Reaper try to climb out of the toilet bowl and slide back down. “And if you knew me, you’d know I hate cats.”
“No doubt you like dogs - wet-mouthed simple, and now that I think about it, a lot like you.”


Agatha glared at him, Reaper shivering in her arms. Finally Tedros exhaled, looking ashamed. He stripped off his shirt, spread out his arms, and sat on the bed. “Have at it princess.”


Tedors cocked a grin. “That handsome, am I?”
“Even Sophie was more tolerable than you!” Agatha yelled into a pillow. “And she tried to kill me! Twice!


“Look, it’s best if I do it,” Tedros said, walking faster. “You two seem to have serious connection issues.”
“And and you two don’t” Agatha said chasing him.
“All you and Sophie ever do is fight-”
“Because it always involves you!


“Agatha, where are-” He saw her on the staircase and flushed two shades redder. “DO YOU WANT ME TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK! I’M SCREAMING LIKE A FOOL, NOT KNOWING IF YOU’RE ALIVE OR DEAD, AND HERE YOU ARE PLAYING HIDE-AND-SEEK LIKE A CHILD ON A PLAYGROUND, LOOKING LIKE A HOLY BLOODY MESS AND-”
Tedros’ face changed.
“Agatha,” He whispered, looking very scared. “Why are you bleeding?”
Agatha shook her head, tear welling, hyperventilating too fast to talk.

(He’s such a mum, honestly mama Suho vibes.)


Cinderella?” Said Agatha.
“Don’t give me that face,” Cinderella sneered back at her.
“For being Camelot’s supposed future queen, you ain’t much to look at yourself.” Her hawkish green eyes shot her down to Agatha’s clumps, “Bet no one want to see those feet in glass slippers.”
“Hey now! She’s my princess! Tedros jumped in.
“I don’t blame you handsome,” Cinderella smirked, voice smooth as an eel. “Your daddy didn’t have a good taste in girls either.”


“You’re not allowed to take that off,” he whispered.
“Not even a ‘good morning’ before you start bossing me around” said Agatha. “Besides, are you tying to give orders to a queen?”
“Oh, so today you’re a queen,” Tedros said pulling her closer.
“Late bloomer if you haven’t noticed,” said Agatha.
“Well, even so…a king is still a king.”
“Which means that your queen is beneath you?”
“No, only that you should do as you’re told.”
“Or what?” Agatha chortled.


“Lift me up,” she nudged Tedros.
“What?”
“On your shoulders.”
Tedros frowned. “Just because you’re wearing a crown doesn’t mean-”
“Now.”
The prince sighed. “And I thought Sophie was high maintenance.”

“Someone’s whipped.” said Pinocchio.
“Finally as tall as his father.” Cinderella groused.


“Not sixteen until tomorrow boy”, piped the wizard, sizing up the young couple. “Besides in time, you’ll have a little rug rat who needs a tutor too.”

Bruised and Battered  Chapter 4

Dean Winchester x Reader

1250 Words

Story Summary: Being friend with Sam and Dean Winchester had been the best part of your life. But then they were gone, and you had nothing to distract you from the physical and verbal abuse from your parents. Years pass, and your parents suddenly vanish. When Sam and Dean come help to find them, you aren’t sure what they will do when they discover your dark past.

Catch Up Here:Masterpost

“Y/N? You awake? It’s time to hit the road!” Dean’s voice rang out through the motel’s thin wooden door, and with a groan you rolled over, wanting to press the pillow to your head and sleep for another hour or so. Sleep had been hard to come by last night, and it hadn’t been until almost 2 o’clock that you had finally nodded off.

“Give me ten!” You yelled back, moaning as you forced yourself to sit up. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up, planning on heading to the bathroom, when a loud, insistent knock sounded on your door again.

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3

Super yummy lunch that lissi and i had at Red bamboo in new york. As starters we had vegan chicken nuggets (which were SO Good!), vegan buffalo wings which were tasty but looked too much like meat for my taste and green vegan dumplings which were my favorite 😍

as a main dish i had potatoes and vegan chicken in a really good coconut sauce with a side of brown rice and veggies.

And for dessert: THE BOMB 😍 peanutbutter chocolate cake which probably was the best cake i had in my (entire) life 🎉

So….it was my friend’s 21st birthday party last night…

- I got there and Raychel was immediately like “Molly are you planning on drinking?” and I was like “Yes duh” and she, deep-voiced, goes “Good. You deserve it. You deserve the world and I deserve to see you get it”

- I forgot that I hate chocolate vodka and got a spiked milkshake at the restaurant

- People were just. screaming about anime. Everyone else in the place must have hated us

- “the asshole is my enemy and needs to be punished.”

- “So…my girlfriend like, bought chloroform?” “Have fun with that.”

- I literally forgot to get her a present whoops

- birthday girl, on her third drink: “Listen I know we’re going  back to my house to drink after this but don’t worry!!! I’m not gonna get that drunk tonight, it won’t be bad”

- l m a o

- we get to her house, immediately start doing shots. I hadn’t touched anything yet bc there was a bottle of electric blue shit and I knew damn well that was going into my body but I was told to wait until people got back with sodas for mixers

- but this guy Patrick who I went all thru grade school with goes “Molly, you’re a real man”, hands me a bottle of whiskey and was like “I feel like my entire childhood was leading up to drinking whiskey with you” and honestly I couldn’t argue??? I felt that way too

- a wholesome experience I’m sure all of our old teachers would be so proud to see us finally bonding and getting along lmao

- Jacqui wanted some whiskey and we’re like “you had two margarita’s at the restaurant maybe not” but she didn’t listen and after she took a shot I had to hide the bottle from her to stop her from having any more lol

- Jacqui, drunk “Mollllly you’re my wiiiiife!”

- Raychel (bd girl) also drunk, across the room “But she’s my alpha husband what the fuck!!!!”

- I was not fucking looking when Raychel’s drink was mixed but it was like. Emerald fucking green. I know it had the sour apple shit vodka in it but idk what else. And then they added food dye and cake glitter so it turned into a galaxy drink holy shit

- Jacqui mixed the blue stuff with sprite and I took a sip and it tasted amazing??? So then I poured my own and I don’t know if I used too much alcohol or too much soda but it tasted like draino I literally had a brief Heather Chandler moment

- Kept drinking it but that’s besides the point

- Now, we need to talk about my alcohol tolerance. It’s high. It’s strong.

- So almost everyone else was drunk out of their asses and I’m sitting there like???? What the fuck???? I want to be intoxicated???? This is hell???? Like at this point I had to have had??? A total six or so shots of vodka and the whiskey and I was FINE and mad about that lmao

- That’s my thing it takes me forever to get drunk and then I get really drunk and blessedly never have hangovers so I can’t really complain I guess?

- But when this happens the logical next step is to drink more lmao Raychel started insisting I share her ridiculous drink with her

- That thing….tasted like everything Jesus died to save us from.

- Also I think I ended up drinking more of it than she did lmao

- Pocket full of sunshine started playing and half the room got turnt while the other half watched in confusion

- I kept trying to take selfies with Raychel and in ever one??? She looks inhumanely gorgeous???? And I look like a goblin???? What the fuck

- At this point I was finally getting drunk so Raychel gave me her phone going “you have my favorite face in the world take so many selfies for me!!!” and….bitch I did. I had that phone for about three hours, barely put it down, loved every single one of my angles for the first time in my life, and I honestly do not know how many selfies of me she’s going to find later lmao

- “I once made an art piece out of my pubic hair but like I lost it in someone’s apartment”

- Garrett, who’s apparently never drank before, whisper-yelling in horror “I took a lot of shots….On purpose!!!! ….I’m sorry,”

- He got very wasted very fast and then went upstairs to sleep lmao

- Raychel started crying telling me I was pretty and I was like “Thanks but you do this when you’re sober so I don’t believe you??” and then her friend who barely talks to me comes over and is like “Honey listen I’m the least drunk person her and you’re gorgeous” and it eventually spiraled into “Molly, CHRISTINA AGUILERA thinks she’s ugly. Lady GaGa- BRITTNEY SPEARS CLEARLY HAS SELF ESTEEM ISSUES EVEN THO SHES A FUCKING SEX ICON. So you’re- OH my God!!! Adam Lambert probably thinks he’s the ugliest fucker in the world!!!!! So you’re beautiful!!!!” and like honestly? Feeling good rn

- To counter this I spent like half the night telling Patrick’s shy and quiet girlfriend Maura that she was the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t leave this poor girl alone she was adorable omfg

- Raychel, the one who ‘wasn’t going to get that drunk’: *spinning wildly, holding 13 conversations at once, constantly yelling about the pubic bone and the vulva, crying about plastic babies in a glitter tube*

- UPDATE AS IM TYPING THIS: Raychel has announced that she found a total of 438 pictures and videos on her phone OH MY GOD @PAST ME

- And that’s only on her phone I got a lot on my phone too and other people had cameras out lord knows how many were taken

- So when I’m drunk I feel a little lightheaded but ultimately fine until I like move a limb and it’s like ‘holy shit my head isn’t connect to my body’ like. so fucking dizzy. At one point I stood and was like ‘who wants to bet I can’t walk to the bathroom’ and someone decided to walk me there lmao

- Someone made glitter bombs out of eggs and we threw them in the street while angrily screaming things like “I LOVE MY FAMILY!” and “WHY DOES EVERY ACTUALLY NICE GUY I MEET HAVE A SMALL DICK!”

- Raychel gave me a tiny ball of clay and I really treasured it but then it broke apart I was so sad

- “Burt Macklin is a fucking bitch!” “Don’t talk to the kitten that way he’s the prettiest cat I’ve ever seen!”

- Jacqui got a slice of cake and then remembered she cannot eat when she’s drunk so I ended up eating. just a lot of cake

- My Little Pony songs were playing on the tv???? I’m still not sure how that got started

- Screaming about Alaska Thunderfuck

- I bet Patrick he’d be the first to puke but he left and I think I threw up in the bathroom???? I’m not 100% positive I did but the fact that I have doubt means he wins unfortunately

- There was one guy there I don’t think I actually got his name but he gave me a great hug when he was leaving. You know when like a bird lands on you and you feel like you’re special and have been chosen???? That’s what the hug felt like lmao

- Someone pulled buffalo chicken dip out of thin air which is my weakness and she told me to have some but like. I put one dipped chip in my mouth and knew it was a mistake. I felt it in my stomach. I hadn’t even fucking swallowed yet it was literally just in my mouth and my body was like ‘bitch can you take a break and let me live!’ omfg

- Since Raychel finally dumped her boyfriend I had no qualms about telling her I didn’t like him and she asked why and I was like “he tried to mansplain Greek mythology to me and he wasn’t even right!!!” and for some reason that made at least five people loose it.

- At the stroke of midnight, Raychel, pointing to the crucifix in the living room. “JESUS….HE’S HERE. HE’S ALIVE.”

- At some point I apparently started drunk texting a few of my friend’s that weren’t there w h o o p s

- Me, trying to explain myself to them this morning “You know, that Easter wine just really gets to me”

- I was stuck in the ‘coming down’ stage for like a million years. Like, still clearly drunk but Not As Bad

- And I was trying to get better before I texted my mother for a ride so like. I spent so long chugging water. I literally don’t think I’ve ever had that much water in my entire life. Raychel’s father and sister kept getting it for me as I continuously told them they were life savers. But it barely helped omfg

- Was definitely still a little wobbly when I woke up for water at like 6:30 but all good now and the hangover skipped over my soul @my genetic makeup bless you

- Fun night though!!! But now I’m off to an Easter family party so…we’ll see how that goes lol

The Ball

length: 1k!! Just like we promised!! :D

genre(s): Fluffy af

triggers/warnings: none!!

It’s 7th year, and Simon has found himself single during the holiday season after Agatha breaks up with him. Is he desperate enough for a date to the school’s annual Christmas Ball that he agrees to go with..Baz?

a/n: Here it is!! The fic we promised to write together (yes all seven of us!) when we reached 1000 followers just in time for us to hit 2000!!
We want to thank y’all so much for following and hope you love the library just as much as we do ^__^



One week before the ball…

Baz

It’s just a proposition. That’s all. It means nothing. (I’m lying to myself, of course.)

“You want me to do what now?” Snow’s standing there against the bedroom door staring at me, looking completely exasperated.

“Relax, Snow,” I say, “I just need you to act like my date.”

“Act like your date?” he repeats, as if I haven’t already stated it twice. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

“None of your business,” I say, propping my feet up on my desk. (I never do this, but it’s a power move.)

He frowns at me and crosses his arms. “Then what’s in it for me?”

“A chance to piss off the old families?”

“That’s not good enough.”

I sigh. “Fine, Snow. Do this for me and I won’t bother you for the rest of the time we’re spent as roommates.”

He seems to ponder this. “How will I know that you won’t break your promise?”

“I never go back on my word.”

“Fine. I’ll be your ‘date’ to the ball.” He sounds resigned, suspicious–which he has every right to be–and immediately leaves the room.


The day of the ball…

Simon

Baz and I are writing reports, and I keep turning around to look at him. He usually sits as far from me as possible but he’s right behind me and it’s distracting. His hair is falling in a wave in front of his face and it’s actually… quite beautiful.

The bell rings and he catches me in the hallway, slipping his cold hand into mine effortlessly.


An hour before the ball…

As I tie my tie for the third time, I sigh in frustration at the mirror. Why am I trying so hard? The date isn’t even real; it’s only to get Baz off my back. And It’s not like he cares what I look like. No one looks better than him in those suits anyway. (The tosser probably doesn’t even need to spell himself tidy.)

I give myself one last look before stepping away from my reflection. The tie looks decent, and I even parted my hair to one side, so it’s something.

“Are you ready to leave?” I ask near the bathroom door–Baz has been there for hours.

“No,” he half shouts so that I can hear him. “Can we meet there?”

I shrug, but then I remember that he can’t see me so I tell him, “fine. Whatever.”


At the ball…

Baz

By the time I arrive, the ball is just starting. (I am, indeed, quite punctual.) What’s surprising is the fact that Simon’s already stood by the door, waiting for me. He looks the most presentable I’ve ever seen him be–although Snow’s presentable and what society considers presentable are two different things.

His tie is crooked, and the suit is too tight around the shoulders.

(He looks good though. Really good.)

Simon

Baz walks up to me. He stares for a while, sighs, and shakes his head. (I, too, stare at him. He looks good. His suit looks expensive, and his tie is tied properly.)

“Snow, I hope your dancing skills aren’t too terrible. Surely you can handle a simple waltz,” he says, and I drag him out into the courtyard right as music begins playing.

“You’re starting with the wrong foot.”

“You’re stepping the wrong way,” I insist.

Snow.”

Baz

We’ve danced two songs before Snow speaks again.

“You look nice,” he says, and I blush. (How embarrassing.)

‘I suppose you don’t look too bad yourself,” I reply, and now it’s Snow’s turn to go red. His hand is warm on my shoulder, and it feels good. It feels more than good, really, and I’m starting to regret asking him to be my fake date. Now that I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to be with Simon Snow, I don’t want to let go.

Simon

I meant what I said. About Baz looking nice, I mean. He looks well fit with his green suit and red tie. Anyone else would look like a Christmas elf, but Baz pulls it off. There isn’t much Baz can’t pull off, really. He’s lucky like that.

Another song begins, and as Baz pulls me closer I almost forget this isn’t real.

Then, some things happen at the same time: As the distance between us closes, we keep dancing to the rhythm of the music; or rather, Baz keeps dancing and my feet keep moving aimlessly; I stumble over Baz’s foot, proving something we both should have seen coming – I definitely can’t handle a simple waltz; Baz wraps his arms around me, so I don’t fall. And I kiss him.

Baz

Snow has the talent to make me forget things. He makes me forget that I should hate him. That this is all fake and will be over soon.
That I should breathe.

Simon

There’s a list of things in my head I’ve always wanted to do to Baz. (And didn’t know.) Grab his hair. Kiss him. Hold him and not let go. Be his real boyfriend.

So I do them all.


One week later…

Baz

Merlin and Morgana, I’m living a charmed life. If I had known I would be stretched out with a glowing, very real Simon Snow curled against my chest, Watford would have been a breeze.

We’re in a corner of the garden where Mordelia can’t find us. (“But Baz! It’s not fair! Simon’s my new favourite brother!” she’d protested earlier.) The summer sun has worked its way through my bones, and I’m feeling strangely soft; content and happy all at once.

Simon’s curly head is tucked under my chin. I think he’s asleep; he ate so much lunch, I don’t see how he can’t have been rendered comatose. Crowley, I’m lucky.

“Hey, Baz.”

Not asleep, then. “Yeah?”

“Is there a Tesco’s nearby?”

I frown. “Why?”

Simon grins. “I want to make you sour cherry scones. Now that we’re boyfriends, and all.”

Merlin, I think, I’m in so deep.

Mycroft is Greg’s taste tester whenever Greg bakes something. Mycroft worries about eating all the pastries but Greg lets him no he loves him no matter what. ♥

Tagging @green-violin-bow because I blame her for my Mycroft and Greg baking obsession!

Side note, sorry for going inactive on here but I was feeling discouraged because I once again lost all my followers which can be a real annoyance when you’re trying to get your art out there. I’ll try and move on though! Love mystrade too much! 

Purify Me (Dean Ambrose x Reader)

Context: Love is amazing, love is kind. Dean Ambrose isn’t a good man for Reader. He’s an amazing one. 

**A/N: ** Dean finally gets a full length fic after months of me stalling on how to write it. But the song inspiration is “Purify Me” by India Arie. 

Originally posted by heartsvwolvesmoved

**Tags: ** @the-geekgoddes ; @kalliravenne ; @crookedmoonsaultpunk ; @m-a-t-91 ; @squirrel666 ; @livingthestrongstyle ; @nickysmum1909


“Easy like Sunday morning

Like an angel calling

He taking me all in

I’m embracing him with my skin

Like a glimmer of light

Like a vision of life

And he’s so perfect I couldn’t picture him if I tried…”

           Have you ever fallen in love so deeply that you didn’t even know what hit you? Have you ever searched for a soulmate so far and so wide with no hope of ever fining one? Have you ever felt the joy in knowing the one you always belonged with was right in front of you all along? Because I have and it feels amazing.          

          I took a deep breath as I stood in the dressing room, right as my parents entered.

         "Sweetheart,“ my father gasped. “You look stunning.”

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Dear dimwitted Beth Greene hater who dared private message me:

Like freakin’ seriously!

It’s been 4 years now since she died and you’re still spewing evil things outta your damn mouth? ‘must be something horribly wrong with you, man!

Also, I wanna apologize as well, on behalf of Beth. Really, I do.

I am so sorry because she was so weak and alotta young in the very beginning of the series. The scriptwriter must have been on dope to ever create the character of Beth Greene!

I am so sorry she had to witness her BLOOD FAMILY turn into zombies and witness her Zombie mom killed in front of her.

I am so sorry she had to witness her father murdered right in front of her. Boo-hoo, right?

I am so sorry she embraced her girlhood by being positive, girly, liking frilly stuff, and being just a girl her normal age would be.

I am so sorry she tried committing suicide and then a few episodes later rose up from the suicidal teen she was into a young woman of sense.

I am so sorry she writes in her journals instead of whining to her group or family about her issues and stuff.

I am so sorry she recovered from her depression and moved on.

I am so sorry she was emotionally stable enough to even care for Judith, a child that didn’t even belong to her.

I am so sorry she was mature enough for Daryl to trust her to look after Carl Grimes.

I am so sorry she used her singing talent to bring joy and hope in the midst of the darkness whilst they’re in prison grounds.

I am so sorry she made Michonne understand she was important and that pain is part of the package when you care for someone, and then gave the Nubian lady alone-time with Judith knowing Michonne needed healing from the fact she lost her own child.

I am so sorry Beth was emotionally mature enough to be pitched in a “damn romance novel” plot with Daryl and made them a romantic pairing.

I am so sorry she stood up to Daryl when all Daryl was doing was mope and sit around and the fandom still loves him.

I am so sorry she had to be “stuck” with an emotionally unstable Daryl and was used as his emotional punching bag.

I am so sorry she stood up to Daryl and showed him she was more than just some dead girl.

I am so sorry she tried learning to be tough and strong and never wanted to be a burden to her family or group.

I am so sorry she got taken away by that psychotic Dawn and got detained in Grady where she was beaten and almost raped.

I am so sorry she risked her own life trying to save Noah, and committed herself fully to getting him out - never mind that she got left behind by him.

I am so sorry she got shot because she was just a human being just like the rest of us who got angry and made bad decisions even having the best of intentions.

I am so sorry she’s smart, talented, beautiful, and strong emotionally.

I am so sorry she retained her humanity when all the rest of the characters in the series seem to have developed a fine taste for revenge, schemes, murders, and s*&!.

I am so sorry people loved Beth Greene so much and many other girls and women all over the globe related to her experiences.

And finally….

I am so sorry you’re too stupid to see all that.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Warner is sitting on the edge of the mattress, his coat thrown on the floor, his boots kicked off to the side. He’s sitting in silence, palms up on his lap, looking into his hands like he’s searching for something he cannot find.
“Aaron?” I whisper, moving forward.
He lifts his head. Looks at me.
And something inside of me shatters.
Every vertebra, every knuckle, both kneecaps, both hips. I am a pile of bones on the floor and no one know it but me. I am a broken skeleton with a beating heart. 
Exhale, I tell myself.
Exhale.
“I’m so sorry,” are the first words I whisper.
He nods. Gets to his feet.
“Thank you,” he says to no one at all as he walks out the door.
I follow him across the bedroom and into his office. Call out his name.
He stops in front of the boardroom table, his back to me, his hands gripping the edge. “Please, Juliette, not tonight, I can’t —”
“You’re right,” I finally say. “You’ve always been right.”
He turns around, so slowly.
I’m looking into his eyes and I’m suddenly petrified.
I’m suddenly nervous and suddenly worried and suddenly so sure I’m going to do this all wrong but maybe wrong is the only way to do it because I can’t keep it to myself anymore. There are so many things I need to tell him. Things I’ve been too much of a coward to admit, even to myself. 
“Right about what?” His green eyes are wide. Scared.
I hold my fingers to my mouth, still so afraid to speak.
I do so much with these lips, I think.
I taste and touch and kiss and I’ve pressed them to the tender parts of his skin and I’ve made promises and told lies and touched lives all with these two lips and the words they form, the shapes and sounds they curve around. But right now my lips wish he would just read my mind because the truth is I’ve been hoping I’d never have to say any of it, these thoughts, out loud. 
“I do want you,” I say to him, my voice shaking. “I want you so much it scares me.”
I see the movement in his throat, the effort he’s making to keep still. His eyes are terrified.
“I lied to you,” I tell him, words tripping and stumbling out of me. “That night. When I said I didn’t want to be with you. I lied. Because you were right. I was a coward. I didn’t want to admit the truth to myself, and I felt so guilty for preferring you, for wanting to spend all my time with you, even when everything was falling apart. I was confused about Adam, I was confused about who I was supposed to be and I didn’t know what I was doing and I was stupid,” I say. “I was stupid and inconsiderate and I tried to blame it on you and I hurt you, so badly.” I try to breathe. “And I’m so, so sorry.”
“What—” Warner is blinking fast. His voice is fragile, uneven. “What are you saying?”
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you exactly as you are.”
Warner is looking at me like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time. “No,” he gasps. One broken, broken word. Barely even a sound. He’s shaking his head and he’s looking away from me and his hand is caught in his hair, his body turned toward the table and he says “No. No, no—”
“Aaron—”
“No,” he says backing away. “No, you don’t know what you’re saying—”
“I love you,” I tell him again. “I love you and I want you and I wanted you then,” I say to him, “I wanted you so much and I still want you, I want you right now—”
Stop.
Stop time.
Stop the world.

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For Everything There is a Season: Chapter Five

Rating: Mature

Summary: Waiting: it’s a practice Sakura is too familiar with. One she would happily let go, if only life would stop giving her loves to wait for. (Sequel to In Times of Peace. SasuSaku.)

Author’s Notes: This story would not have been possible without the people who donated toward a Nepal earthquake relief fund: @ashtronomica, @okwtfxia, Torikai, AkatsukiV, @disliking-u, @xxlovendreamsxx, @ashsch87, @uchihasass, @jentruth, @akako-chan, @laetia, @disliike. Thank you for being so generous, and for supporting the @narutofornepal project.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4


August in Ame is hot and humid, the air so thick that breathing feels like suffocating, even as it rains (and it’s always raining here).

Sakura sits on the back steps of the orphanage, shielded from today’s storm by the awning overhead. The downpour floods the garden, despite every effort she took to protect it, beating down the glossy leaves and tender petals. Sakura watches one summer squall destroying three months’ labor, and she has to laugh. She’d encouraged the children to plant flowers—hardy blooms native to the area, ones that she thought would withstand even the heaviest rain. Sakura had hoped that this project would give her kids a sense of ownership, would foster hope that not everything fails before it can come to fruition. Maybe because that’s an idea she’s so desperate to believe herself.

She closes her eyes, and the rest of the world slips away. For the space of a heartbeat, all Sakura hears is the steady drumbeat of rain thumping against the small canopy above her, all she smells is the green scent of growing things and wet earth.

But moments like these, of quiet solitude, are rarer than diamonds in an Ame orphanage, so she isn’t surprised when Miyu calls for her.

“Setsu?” she asks.

Answering to her alias has become second nature, and Sakura doesn’t even hesitate. She stands, straightens her skirt, and hurries back inside. “Yes? Do you need me?”

Miyu throws up her hands. “I don’t know what to do with that boy. I leave him alone for two minutes—two minutes!—and he’s already started another fight.”

She doesn’t have to ask which child Miyu is talking about. It could only be Sojiro, the newest addition to their strange little house of the lost and left behind. A local genin delivered him to the orphanage last month, saying that he’d be thrown into the juvenile detention center if Miyu and Sakura refused to take him in. For a nine-year-old child, he’s remarkably destructive, and he’s managed to cause some kind of mayhem every day since his arrival.

Sojiro utterly ignores Miyu, curses the part-time caretakers, and fights the other children. He’s argumentative on his good days and aggressive on the bad, nasty to nearly everyone—everyone except for Sakura, really, and so her primary job for the last three weeks has been to keep an eye on him.

She finds Sojiro in the room he shares with two other boys, but since dinner is being served right now, his roommates are gone. He worries his split lip between his teeth, and it starts bleeding anew. A dribble of red slides down his chin, viscous and bright under the dim yellow lights.

Sakura points at his injured lip. “Do you mind if I fix that?”

Sojiro looks at her warily, pale eyes narrowed and mouth turned down in a frown. But he nods and says, “Okay. Sure.”

Sakura tries to be careful with her healing, only ever utilizing it within the walls of the orphanage, and she does her best to make her abilities appear average rather than exceptional. She lies about her origins to anyone who asks, claiming that as a young girl she’d moved from country to country and studied under a retired medic-nin for a time. Most people accept this story, but Sakura suspects that Miyu hasn’t bought a word of it.

Now she stands before Sojiro, holds her hand over his bruised and bloodied mouth, and summons chakra to the tips of her fingers. For a moment, the power of it surges through her, and Sakura tries to ignore the yearning she feels every time she performs even the simplest of medical ninjutsu. She misses the shinobi life often—always, lately—but most of all when she’s healing.

“There you go,” Sakura says, and she takes a full step back, giving Sojiro more space. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He shakes his head, then bites his lip again and flinches. It shouldn’t be painful anymore, although the skin could be tender, the way recently mended flesh usually is. It takes Sakura a moment to realize that maybe Sojiro made that face because it doesn’t hurt, and she worries that the whole point of his fights might be to harm himself.

She could ask him outright, but when faced with difficult questions, Sojiro is far more likely to shut down than open up. One wrong move could shatter the tenuous trust they’ve been building, and Sakura can’t afford to risk that.

Instead, Sakura takes a seat in the lone chair by the window and says, “You remind me of someone.”

Two someones, actually. Sojiro has all of Sasuke’s anger and sharp intelligence, but none of his drive, his focus. He lashes out wildly and causes chaos when he’s hurting, just like Naruto did as a little boy. Sakura sees pieces of her husband and her best friend in this child—in every orphan under this roof, if she’s honest.

For a moment, she’s lost, remembering sunny days as a new genin, before the world tore Team 7 apart and taught her the ugliness of life.

Thinking of Naruto makes her ache, makes her miss the Leaf and ramen lunches and the sound of his raucous laughter.

And then there’s Sasuke, the husband she can’t bear to think about, because the pain of separation only grows greater every day, every moment. Sakura has found something like peace here in this sad little corner of Ame—where she is needed, where the ghosts of her dead child and her broken marriage can’t haunt her so closely. But there is a difference in peace and fulfillment. The time is coming soon, she thinks, when it may no longer be best for her to hide here.

Sojiro draws his legs up to his chest and rests his head against his knees. He looks at her with wide eyes the color of ice and whispers, “You remind me of someone too.”

Sakura can guess, from the frailty of his voice and his trembling lower lip, that Sojiro means his mother.

He allows her to hug him, to pat his messy dark hair (much in need of a trim) and murmur soothing nonsense as he bites back quiet sobs.

They fit together too well: a son with no mother in the arms of a mother with no son.


Seven hundred forty-nine days: that’s how long it’s been since Sasuke last saw his wife.

He wonders if Sakura kept a count of their time apart when he was a missing-nin. Or when she lost their child. The son he didn’t have the chance to hold, who’s been ashes for far longer than he was alive—if you can consider a child who never took a breath to have been alive at all.

Sasuke pushes that thought away, because sometimes it hurts too much to remember all that he’s lost. Father, mother, brother, son, and wife. Gone forever, except for Sakura, and he’s determined to find her.

Not that he has any leads at the moment. Sasuke spent a week following up on a rumor that a skilled healer had taken up residence in a little River Country town. The healer in question was a retired medic-nin from Amegakure named Ikue. She let Sasuke sleep in her spare room and fed him three hot meals, and all she asked for in return was that he deliver a letter to her daughter in the Rain Village.

Ame is every bit as miserable and gloomy as Sasuke remembers it, a broken city dirtied by industrial grime. The marks of poverty permeate the whole village, from the abandoned factories to the scrawny alley cats.

Sasuke pulls his cloak around himself more tightly, though it does nothing to protect him from the storm. His clothes are soaked through, and he feels wet right down to his bones.

He finds a sad, threadbare inn in the northern quarter of the village, pays to stay for one night, and collapses on the bed without even undressing. Tomorrow he’ll wake to mud-splattered covers, his clothes damp and musty, but Sasuke can’t make himself care.

He’s just so tired. Worn thin from loneliness, hollowed out by fear. Even if he finds Sakura, he might not be able to convince her to come back home. She could be happier alone, far away from him.

But then Sasuke closes his eyes, and he remembers his wife in a hundred small moments: a little girl with her hair tied back by a red ribbon, her smile shy and cheeks pink; the security of her arms in the Forest of Death, anchoring him to the earth, bringing him back to himself when darkness threatened to swallow him whole; the taste of her rain-slicked skin the first time they went to bed together; how green her eyes were, bright and so happy, at their wedding.

Hope might be too much for Sasuke to muster, but he has faith in the bonds he forged with his team. And if he’s learned anything from Sakura, it’s that love endures, no matter how far it strays.

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#8 - What went wrong?

Read: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Also, any text that are in italics are in the past and the rest are in the present form.

You led the way to the cafe on the corner of your apartment. It wasn’t entirely crowded. Just a few students and business workers around. The waitress directed you two to a booth near the back of the room. You slumped yourself into the seat and looked at the menu. You have only been here once. Not with Jay, Jasmine or Hallie but with Gray.

It was raining and you were sitting at the cafe on the corner of your apartment. And out of all days, today you locked yourself out of your apartment. You already called Jay to see if he was able to get home earlier but he said he couldn’t leave work right at that moment. Jay had told you to stay put and wait for him. It was now pouring even harder so you called your landlord but he was out of town. So you made yourself comfortable in the booth. You ordered another green tea and a slice of cake. You shouldn’t have too much before dinner but, who cares. Just as you took a second mouthful of the cake, a figure sat down opposite to you. You looked up and saw Gray.

You: Oh hey, Gray.

Gray: Hey [Y/N]. You have excellent taste in cakes.

You: I’m sorry?

Just then, the waitress came by and put the exact slice of cake in front of Gray. He had ordered the same cake.

You: I see. Finished work early?

Gray: Not really.I can’t seem to finish the last part of my new song. Can’t find the right beat you know, so instead of sulking and stressing myself, I’ve called it a day. Plus stress won’t do my face any good. Gotta keep my rep of being the visual at AOMG.

You: Simon and Jay was joking when they called you that, you know. You’re more than a ‘visual’, you’re one of the best producer out there. Heck, you made Mommae and see how popular that is?

Gray: I’m not too sure if Mommae is popular because of me. It has made popular because of your boyfriend, the one and only Park Jae-Beom. Him and sexiness.

You laughed.

Gray: Are you waiting for Jay?

You explained to Gray that you locked yourself out. He laughed at you before insisting to stay with you until Jay arrives.

You: Are you sure? I mean, you had a long day today, you should go home and rest.

Gray: Nah, it’s fine. I’d rather be here with you than ahem driving in this insane weather.

Jay: I’ve never been here before and everything looks good on the menu. Do you wanna share the Big Breakfast? It has pretty much everything. Toast, beans, mushroom, eggs, bacon and your fav, avocado.

You nodded and Jay went to place the order. He then came back with 2 cups and the table number stand being clutched underneath his armpit. He placed one of the cups in front of you and it was a green tea.

You two sat in silence while you were on your phone and taking small sips of your tea.

Once the food came, Jay took your plate and started putting toast, mushrooms, eggs, bacon and avocado on it. You slightly smiled when he handed you your plate.

Again, the two of you sat in silence. Jay finished his share way before you did and it showed he probably didn’t have a proper meal in a while. Jay got up without saying anything and you saw him walking towards the counter. You finished your share by the time he came back with another cup of green tea and coffee for himself.

Jay: Hey, you wanna something today? There’s a new putt putt golf that’s just opened up.

You: You hate golf.

Jay: Yeah but it’s putt putt. The name itself makes it sound like a very cute activity. Putt putt. Putt putt.

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

Jay: Look, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry. Just give me a chance and take me back. I’ll do everything you want. I’ll always be by your side and I’ll never betray you again. I promise.

You: You’ll do everything I want? Jay, you’re not my slave. I don’t want you obeying my orders. I just want you to not lie. I mean, if you’re in love with someone else then tell me. Don’t keep me in dark.

Jay: I’m not in love with her.

You: Then what does she have that I don’t? Am I not satisfying you or something?

Jay: No, its nothing like that. You’re so much better than her. She was just a distraction. I needed a distraction and she was it. That’s all.

You: Distraction from what? Jay, when you need to vent or something you can always come to me. I might not say a lot in return but my ears are always ready to hear you out.

Jay: You don’t understand, babe. This upcoming tour has been driving me insane. From meetings to rehearsals, I’m so fucking tired. To be honest, I just want to cancel the tour. I’ve been thinking and maybe this label is growing too fast and I can’t keep up with it.

You: Don’t think that. You’ve been working very hard so give yourself a break. Plus you have such a supportive group behind you. I’m sure they will be more than happy to lend you a hand if you need it. You just gotta ask, Jay.

Jay: You’re right and that’s what I needed to hear. Thanks baby.

You: Jay.. I want to be with you but I’m scared to trust you again. You know I’ve been hurt this way before.

Jay let out a sigh and took your hands into his. He looked straight into your eyes.

Jay: No more lies from me, I promise and I’ll never let you down.

You took a deep breathe and composed your thoughts carefully. You love him and he loves you, so what’s stopping from you too getting back together? He surely regrets his actions and he’s willing to be a better man. Giving him a second chance won’t hurt. Right??

You: Then how are we getting to that putt putt golf place?

A few hours later Jay receives a message from Gray.

Gray: Heard you and [Y/N] got back together. You’re one lucky guy. But I’m sorry to say this but 'SHE’ is here. You gotta come to the office and don’t bring [Y/N]!

my broken glass

the last of the snow.

( out there! out there! )

dirty,
it remains day, night,
unending with beasts
that have no face

in rusted metal going much too fast

spreading a filth & a cold
that is blacker than
my
dead
heart.

branches break over asphalt
and screaming -
there is no new plant life possible here.

( even with the old blood. )

what flowers managed to survive,
they are wilting horrors of things.
uncolored,
unscented,
diseased.

( touch the flowers, i dare you. )

with spring they say
the birds return,
& certainly they do.

the vultures circle overhead.

with spring they say
the green returns,
& certainly it has never left.

it is here in my broken glass,
swirling under sugar
i could not care less to taste.

the first hints that it is spring
for what it is worth

( nothing, nothing! )

is that my watch has stopped,
the ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking [ … ] ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking ticking has been tasked
to my numb tongue,

& the angel
with my nightmare memories for eyes
has
finally
refilled
the
bottle.

Idle

I sit and I smoke. I inhale pencil shavings out of a stone. I see the color green, but not as the color green.

I sit and I stare. Unscented candles taste pretty bad. So do pills when they’re chewed up to compensate for the high tolerance, and to tolerate the lack of high.

I sit and I throw scissors at my door, because someone is out there listening.
I’m certain that the sounds coming from my room are distorted.

I sit and I throw razors at walls of flesh, because I hear too much noise; distorted, like my ear’s up against a fan.

I sit and I drink.
I remember to forget.
I remember how to forget.
I forget.

I sit and I count the colors that aren’t green.
Well, they are green, they just don’t look green.
The monster under my bed doesn’t look frightening,
but its drippingly ominous presence is terrifying.

I sit and I think.

And I write.

I write this, and fail to accurately describe what the color green looks like when it’s actually rather un-green in appearance. I succeed, however, in convention. In ‘spilled ink,’ so to speak.

I sit and I write until I stop. Then I smoke and see the color pink, though it looks more like pink-painted-blue-but-then-was-washed-in-the-bath.

                           [where / how am i to find my voice again?]

speak of a cloudy room, and find yourself there- i am floating between was, and will be- the present seems misty green from where i’m standing; nothing blooms. i tell him love in thunder or something blue, and we lay on the floor bleeding. he smiles, i smile, and we go on aching. i try to remember his honey-veined hands on my throat. he licks open spaces for a taste / we are the kind with too much bite, i say / he opens his wild mouth, but i say, again- [oh, wild mouth, i am lost and afraid- when will this monsoon end?] i am tired of this greyscale dreaming; take me somewhere new. 

A CRY FOR HELP

anonymous asked:

how do you color your defenders gifsets? they are amazing! this show is so hard to color but u do it perfectly! :)

thank you, marvel netflix in general is a mess to color! 

honestly it all depends on a scene. with defenders i find that most of them are REALLY taken to the extremes, as in they’re totally green, red, yellow or blue depending on character and setting you know, so before i even think about selective colors and these basics, i gotta neutralize the extreme colors 

im gonna walk you through the process using this example cause it was such a pain in the ass to color and when i first looked at it, it looked impossible to do but it turned out okay (at least i think lol) 

original scene:

with my coloring:

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a final goodbye
we abandon the world for you,
I lack the capacity to describe
the sensation
of heavy feet on concrete
a world draining of colour
a grey sky for dread
the green drips off the trees,
red lipstick melts
like blood on ceramics.
Clinical procedure
it all tastes metallic
where are we?
our grasp on time has perished
a second too late is just too late-
when it’s between life and death.
running through scenarios
each one heart-breaking.
But we step back from the door
in fear of what’s behind it
we are asphyxiated
my throat tightens
hold on,
whilst I tell you
how much I need you.
—  if i told you, would you believe me?