veil masks

the slytherin common room is like a palace. the students hold court there, discuss schemes and ambitions and scandals, at home in such a regal setting yet always with a slight edge stemming from the awareness that outside these walls–outside this dignified, fierce, protective slytherin family–there is an ugly, real, vicious world waiting to tear them apart. but no fear; the slytherins will be there with their experience and cunning honed in their very own fortress to glide through the storm, calm and cool and untouched. these students love each other boundlessly, and this is where they prepare each other for the road ahead.

if the slytherins have a palace, then the hufflepuff common room is like a cozy cottage. somehow, the cushions are fluffier, the fireplace warmer, the sofas squishier, and the atmosphere homier than anywhere else the puffs have ever been. they readily welcome all, the ambience of the room bright and cheery and open. you can feel the love and support in that room–the frankness different from the slytherins’ to be sure–not better or worse, just different with its in-your-face bounce. the hufflepuff common room is shelter in a storm, a reprieve from an exhausting journey, a re-charging station brimming with smuggled food and unending comfort. 

the ravenclaw common room is like a roman atrium, open, airy, and embracing the sky with all its endless possibilities. it is florence blooming during its renaissance, chock filled with creativity, knowledge, and curiosity, the high turrets mirroring the soaring dreams of the students. here they study, work, and review, but also paint, sing, debate, and experiment. the ravens have no limits, no judgment or boundaries, only acceptance and empathy in shared thirst for wisdom. competition for grades is fierce to be sure, but personal ambition never impedes camaraderie and mutual discovery. books are swapped, new portraits revealed, and essays edited by peers. the ravenclaw room nurtures, growing curiosities, sparking new interests, encouraging deeper understanding.

the gryffindor common room is like an artist’s loft, overflowing with windows and half finished paintings and heart. gryffindors do not hide, or don identities or masks or veils; they are just as transparent and candid and true to themselves inside the tower and out. these lions are brave enough to care, and their ferocious love pervades their home base. like the slytherins, they know the true battle never ends; for the gryffindors, there will always be more justice to pursue, more weak to protect, more fights to be won. red is fierce, fiery, bold, burning bright and everlasting, the color of vanquished enemies and flowing sunrises and sunsets. this gallery holds a striking portrait of courage, of opening up to the possibility of wounds willingly, an arsenal of strength for the brutal, pounding battle ahead.

and the great hall–why, the great hall is where all these stunning qualities meet, in a glorious clash of colors, vibrant and unforgettable, melding together to form a place of unity, a haven for all–hogwarts.

adore you (you're lovely)

ADORE YOU (YOU’RE LOVELY) — and i adore you, too. i’ve been thinking that your love is kind of special. you should know that i adore you, too! ( adore you, nao ft. abhi//dijon )

REQUEST — the reader used to be ugly and archie bullied you. then, after summer break, you totally glo up and are now super hot, and he apologizes.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — i did tweak this request a little bit, simply because i don’t see riverdale!archie being a bully—i think it’s even a little ooc for comics!archie—so i opted for archie sort of ignoring the reader. also, i refrained from specifying a gender since there wasn’t one mentioned in the request. thank you so much for trusting me to write your idea, and i hope this was fluffy enough for you. i felt like it would be kinda rushed to make them kiss in this? i don’t know, but enjoy. ( requests: open )

Keep reading

Asshai by the Shadow

The buildings of Asshai are made out of a black stone that can feel greasy to the touch. The stone seems to drink in light, dimming torches and hearth fires alike, causing the city to have a dark and gloomy appearance. All foodstuff and freshwater is brought in by ship, as animals brought into the city soon die, and the waters of the Ash, river which runs through the city, glisten black beneath the noonday sun and glimmer with green phosphoresence by night. The only fish that dwell in its water are blind and deformed, with only fools and shadowbinders daring to eat of their flesh. There are no children in Asshai, and all who dwell there wear masks or veils, and often walk alone or ride in palanquins of ebony and iron, hidden behind dark curtains.

Asshai is a popular trading destination for ships, part of the traders’ circle in the Jade Sea. It exports goods such as amber and dragonglass. Gold and gems are also common exports, though some say the gold of the Shadow Lands is as unhealthy as the fruits that grow there.

The Asshai'i are well versed in witchcraft and wizardry, and have a language of their own, used in their spells. It is rumored that spellsingers, aeromancers, and warlocks practice their arts openly in Asshai. Asshai is welcome to all sorts of practitioners of the “higher mysteries”, as well as torturers and poisoners, and even worshippers of the Black Goat and the Lion of Night. Nothing is forbidden in the city, however depraved. 

The shadowbinders of Asshai are considered to be the most sinister of all sorcerers of the city, and are the only ones who dare to go upriver, towards the Shadow Lands however even they fear Stygai the City of the Night upriver from Asshai. Ghost grass grows throughout the Shadow Lands and it is said that demons and dragons are among the creatures dwelling in cliff caves. 

blazing arrows [jimin feat. jungkookie]

❝The majority calls me Cupid, but, you can call me Jimin—I believe I owe you some debts for a mistake now long overdue.❞

⌲ genre: fluff, angst, future smut, & supernatural, au.

⌲ member: jimin feat. jungkookie

⌲ word count: 4891

⌲ warnings: future mature content & shit tons of swearing.

↠ description: Stuck in what seemed to be an unrequited relationship with Jeon Jungkook who just so happens to be in committed relationship with someone else as well, your heart was fragmented beyond any repair. So what exactly happens when you wake up at 3 in the morning to find the culprit of your hellish misery, nonchalantly counting his gold-tipped arrows on the foot of your bed—wings outstretched and all?

part one | part two | ongoing

External image

“Has your mouth become dysfunctional from all the day-to-day shit you’ve been spewing or something? Because frankly speaking, loser, seaweed mustache does not really suit you—most especially if your heading to your girlfriend’s place in less than an hour.”

Keep reading

Visions

NOW PROPERLY EDITED || Angsty Levi drabble to try and get back into my writing groove. I left the other character extremely vague so feel free to imagine the other half of your Levi otp if you wish. Otherwise, enjoy and hit me with some feedback if you do not mind~! Special thanks to @perksofbeingawaifu for inspiring me to write more drabbles! Definitely check out her works!!


Levi’s eyes always seemed to wander over his surroundings with a meticulous edge. Lids heavy over piercing irises as he scanned every inch of each environment he stepped into. Nothing ever seemed to slip past his vision. Even the dust particles that would float and dance in the light of the mid-morning sun were completely visible to him in shadow.

This was a skill he had honed in his earlier years. Always needing to be aware of what was behind him or who was around each corner in the darkness of the underground. Always wanting to avoid unnecessary attention and unwelcomed company as he would weave his way through damp back alleys and overcrowded walkways. Without a doubt, his hands were fine tools. Eleminating danger in a matter of seconds with a sharp slash of his shining blade before cleaning the mess left behind on his slender fingers.

However, he didn’t trust his hands. Lethal things coated in death and destruction. Only able to save a few while harming many. His hands moved as ordered and they served him well, but sometimes they would fail him and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. The lives of those dear to him have slipped through his fingers too many times for him to have faith in their truth. His eyes showed him possibilities and outcomes. They showed him what was and what could be, but a majority of the time, his hands would fail to deliver the proper results.

But his eyes…

His eyes were his veil. His way of masking himself into the low of society he had spent his entire life surrounded by. His way of blending into shadows and vast seas of people to hide his existence from those who would seek to end it. His eyes were his shield and his first line of defense. They never lied and they never failed him. He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept.

So, even now, as he stood in front of the mirror with his ghastly physical appearance being projected before him; he fully trusted what he saw. The bags under his eyes had become severe. A faint hue of red bleeding into the whites while the blue in his irises appeared dull and grey. Lifeless and sleep deprived from years of painting blood soaked images of his corpse ridden reality, only for his mind to process and use as haunts for his short lived dreams.

He looked like shit and there was no hiding it either.

He was much older now and it showed. The life he was leading showed, and the weight of the lives he carried to the grave showed. All of it was apparent in his eyes. A man who was exhausted, but strong. Lonely, but stable. Empty, but still alive. It was all there and staring back at him as he towel dried the scruff of his hair.

He needed to sleep, he determined. Setting the towel aside as he ran his fingers over the course hair coating his jaw.

His eyes were indeed windows, he surmised as he heaved a sigh at the reflective glass. Windows he desperately needed to shut if only for a couple of hours, but when he did, the images they had painted over the years would slide through his dreams like a moving picture. Replaying his darkest moments over and over again until his mind would scream at him to wake up. For him to open the windows and to let them paint more pictures for him to continuously relive.

Slowly, he rubbed his lids with the pads of his fingers. Pushing himself away from the mirror and out of the door frame of the washroom and into the soft candle glow of his quiet office. Looking at himself was hard. Seeing himself with the eyes he so trusted and having to accept that that was indeed how he currently appeared made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

He always made it a point to be presentable, but today he was just too tired to do so. Three days with no sleep and little to no food quickly took it’s toll, and his body was now at an age where he couldn’t outright hide his shitty sleeping habits, or lack thereof, with a clean shave, and a few cups of strong tea.

His hands moved back to his jaw. Scratching at the rough hairs he wasn’t used to wearing as he strode over towards his clean, hung up shirt, and laid out uniform boots. The nights were getting colder and longer and his health wasn’t in top form at this point. The last thing he needed was to get sick on top of his already piss poor condition.

“You look pretty rough.” A soft voice chimed. An echo Levi had long thought lost and a sound that made his heart clench in his chest.

“I know.” He answered firmly. Rounding his trustworthy eyes towards his office chair that was positioned behind him where a shadowed silhouette sat comfortably.

“You should sleep.” The voice resounded. The leather of his chair squeaking as the figure adjusted their body to face him more clearly.

“I know.” He responded again. His feet slowly stepping across the wood of the floor while his hands remained stock still at his hips.

The figure was a familiar one. One he hadn’t seen for quite some time and one he’d admittedly missed and cared for quite deeply. Still though, that didn’t negate the fact that they were sitting their precious ass in his office chair.

“Get your ass out of my chair.”

The figure laughed heartily. Standing up completely straight in one smooth, eerily quiet motion before moving around the desk and stepping into the dim light of a single flame that danced atop a mostly melted candle.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” Levi asked sharply. His tired eyes staying locked on the person in front of him while his body moved around them and toward his oak desk. Each of his steps precise and angled so not to cause a floorboard to squeak.

“I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

Levi let out a huff. Blinking his eyes a couple of times as he picked up a file from his desk with his clever fingers. Tapping the tip of his index against the paper sharply as he evened out his breathing and began moving toward the elegantly lit body in front of him.

“I wanted to see you too, but you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Then go.”

“Can’t we just tal-”

“No.”

Levi’s body had stopped only a few inches from the figment in front of him. His free hand reaching out to grasp at a lock of hair. To run his fingers through it and touch the silky strands that his eyes showed him were there. But his hands were only met with cold air. A breeze in the night against his still damp skin. With an exasperated hum, Levi retracted his fingers. Silently turning and moving his body toward his office chair and sitting down with a hard thump.

“Disappointed?” The figure questioned cheekily. Stepping to sit in the front facing chair directly across from Levi’s own. Their movements making no sounds and their voice barely audible enough for his overly tired ears to hear.

“Of course.” He murmured. Staring at the smiling face in front of him with honest regret and exhaustion.

His chest hurt terribly while his eyes burned with leashed tears and rapidly approaching sleep. He was losing his mind. He was sure of it, but his eyes had never failed him before. Not even in his deepest pits of exhaustion and not even when he silently begged a god he doesn’t believe in to let him see this face smiling at him one last time as he stared down at their pale, blood drained body.

The sadness and greif he felt as he peered into the glowing eyes of the other across from him matched the fear of them disappearing in his gut. His face remained as passive as ever, but emotion boiled over internally to the point of rising acidic bile in his throat as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cold slab of the desk.

“Sleep. I’ll stay.”

“You’re not even real.” He stated sharply. Reaching one hand out while placing the other under his head as a cushion.

“Of course I am. You can see me, can’t you?”

Levi remained quiet for a moment. Watching with hopeful, tired eyes as the figures hand reached over and met his own. Gracing his sense of touch with nothing but cold air yet again. A frown pulling at his lips and his brows furrowing while his ears rang acutely. His vision slowly but surely going dark, and the view of he and his lovers interlocking fingers slowly fading to black.

“Yeah.” He whispered. Sleep washing over him in a deep wave and pulling him under.

He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept. However, he didn’t trust his hands. Sometimes they would fail him, and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. Sometimes, they would let precious things slip from his grip and shatter into tiny pieces that would scatter to the wind.

But, most of the time, they would leave him yearning for a touch of warmth that he could no longer feel.

when the stars whisper

Originally posted by 1980vibes

Genre: fairy!au, based on @lthyl ‘s request which i delayed for a decade and half :*

Pairings: readerxjimin

Words: 3.5K

Summary:  When did we stop believing in fairy tales? 

PART 1, PART 2


There’s something whimsical about tonight. Maybe its  the way the stars appear brighter than usual, adorning the inky night sky like sprinkles of gold dust.

Underneath the vast expanses of the starlit skies, the city hustles and buzzes with life. Jimin watches closely, the way humans scurry around like ants lost in a maze of concrete jungles and streetlights. From where he sits perched at the very edge of a skyscraper, wind blowing his golden hair, he feels a certain longing bloom, unfurling its hopeful petals inside his chest.

 Hope is a treacherous thing and he’s afraid of the dangerous desires brewing deep within him.

It’s funny, he thinks, how humans waste away their lives longing for fairy tales and a life of wandering amongst the stars, but the stars don’t hold Jimin’s attention tonight. The only thing he painfully longs for in vain, is something further away to him than the stars are to the humans on this particularly starry night.

 *

There seem to exist certain blank spaces in between the events that you cannot recall for the life of you, and as you stare at the blossoms of blue and violet underneath the skin that stretches taut across your wrists, you can only hope that the you from the night before hadn’t really been involved in anything life changingly stupid.

Being the ever studious and ever so meticulous university kid you’ve always been, it’s hard to decipher what exactly had possessed you the evening before an extremely crucial test to give in to the whining persistence of your sometimes annoying best friend.  

“You’ve been glued to your desk for days, Y/N!” You remember her complain to you in her chirpy voice over the phone. “You need, like NEED, to blow off some steam before you self implode…  explode whichever.”

You spring off the bed, warily approaching the full length mirror that stands in the corner- it’s metallic edges, glint silver in the bleak morning light that now filters in past your rather translucent curtains, throwing a weak yet mesmerising spectrum of iridescence on your white walls. Giving into her constant whining had obviously been a bad idea when she had waltzed away from your side quite early into the night never to return again. Dancing had never been your scene so you groan somewhat remembering yourself flopped at the bar closest to the dance floor instead, as you tried to hold a pretty slurred and very much one sided conversation with the poor bar tender about the beauty of trigonometry.

Assessing your haggard reflection, you’re quite surprised that your drunken self from the night before had somehow held enough decencies to have at least changed out of the skin tight dress before losing to the sweet oblivions of sleep. You inspect your skin closely, twirling around in your ivy blue nightie that barely reaches the top of your thighs, and you’re genuinely pleased when you see no other bouquets of shameful violet decorating your skin. But apart from that, you’re a mess really. Your hair’s a hay stack- with your artfully styled curls resembling more of a bird’s nest now, and your eyeliner’s smudged, as if you had been crying your soul out all night. All that remains of your bright lipstick, is the faint residue of dusted rose that sits engrained within the delicate grooves and creases of your lips and you surely look like a character straight out of some low budgeted horror flick.

In that moment, you halt all movement, surprised when in the wake of a very faint memory which is enshrouded in a brilliant brightness and yet too fuzzy and unreal for you to be able to actually focus on. A slight tingle rushes across the plump flesh of your lips and you bring your hands to your mouth, running thin fingers over them, as you feel your heart beat quicken, for well, seemingly no reason.

“Well, well now-” A sickeningly sweet and ridiculously melodic voice, rings out across your room, and you jump, literally jump a mile out of your skin as you whip around.

“How good of a kisser I must be that you’re still feeling the after-shocks of last night, eh?”

Your mouth falls open in silent terror when your wild eyes finally find the boy, the absolute stranger, who lounges lazily on your bed as if he very rightfully belongs there when you definitely remember waking up alone. He stares back at you, a shamelessly wide smile stretching on his pretty lips, and the smile screams trouble and is nowhere close to sincere. You slowly back up against the wall, your trembling knees seeking the support of something stable because they threaten to give in otherwise.

He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, golden strands threading in between his slender fingers before slipping through like fine silk and despite the bubbling fear, you feel your heart flutter in a manner so strange that it’s novel. It thumps like a bass drum against your ribcage- and you’re almost certain that none of it is just because of the adrenaline that pumps alongside fear in your veins. You only watch mesmerized- so thoroughly smitten by the strangers beauty that you actually find yourself almost forgetting that you’re, infact, supposed to be scared, and, no matter how useless an attempt you should be desperately yelling for help. 

“W-who-wha-you?” You stammer out incoherently and your voice is an unfamiliar squeak. 

However he seems to understand, smirking devilishly in response as he, without a care, without a shame, locks his arms around the back of his neck only to lean back comfortably against the head board of your bed. His eyes never leave yours the entire while and you find yourself, withering away by the minute under his intense stare.

“So you don’t remember me? I’m kind of hurt here.” He sneers, smirk wiping clean off his face as a feigned hurt takes over his perfectly sculpted features.

 "I’ve n-never seen y-“ you are cut short and your claims still hang in the air with an empty hollowness because just then he moves so fast, you’d deem it humanly impossible.

And within a flash he’s standing in front of you, grabbing at your wrists  the moment you throw your hands up in defence. With an iron clad grip he harshly pulls you towards the bed, all along treating your body as if you were no more than a life sized rag doll. You let out a piercing scream that’s cut short when you stumble, helplessly falling flat on top of the mattress. Air whooshes out your lungs in a loud huff and alarms go off in your head as you take in the predatory stance with which the boy then leans down, hovering on top of you- trapping you like a defeated animal within the cages of his strong arms, effortlessly barring all your escape routes from underneath him.

“Humans are awfully forgetful.” He accuses, voice sounding a bit breathless. A thin veil of nonchalant calmness masks a desperation, an urgency much greater than what he shows. You swallow, shrivelling like a dead leaf under his the venomous gaze. You’re scared out of your mind, finally realizing how utterly helpless you really are. Lying underneath an absolute stranger in your own bedroom which had suddenly started to feel so foreign in his unwelcomed presence, you’re too afraid to envision the various blood stained scenarios that threaten to conquer your consciousness.

You whimper softly, a lone tear leaking down your face before you can even realize. Past your blurry vision you try to read the expressionless mask the stranger wears on his beautiful face, but it gives off absolutely nothing. Seeing your pitiful state, something seems to shift in his gleaming eyes, and appearing almost apologetic he straightens up, releasing you from his stronghold with an exasperated sigh. He’s obviously irritated by your inability to recognize him but no matter how hard you try to reach out for the memories that might hold even a fleeting glance of his face, his presence, you come up with absolutely nothing.You wipe your eyes, roughly with the back of your hands and as your gaze shifts up, you very embarrassingly notice, for the very first time the lack of clothing on the boy. He wears a pair of tight black jeans, hugging his thighs just right and ripped artfully at his knees and thighs, but other than that his lean yet muscular torso’s completely bare. It’s strange but you can’t help but notice the way he wears his own skin, with a kind of poise that makes his part-nakedness appear absolutely normal. Infact he even appears regal.

He begins to pace the room lazily, his hands covering his troubled eyes.

When he pauses for a moment his body facing the window and the streaming sunlight at a certain angle, it is as if you’re really looking for the first time and your eyes land on something you absolutely don’t believe seeing. Shaking your head, you blink rapidly- but they refuse go away; they don’t vanish into nothingness like they should, for there was no way on earth that they were real.

But given the angle they are at, growing like giant petals from his shoulder blades are the two thin membranes, fluttering a mile a minute. The boy cocks his head, turning to look at you over his shoulder, as if somehow sensing your bewildered gaze boring into his back. You find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that, indeed there are wings protruding from his back. W.I.N.G.S you spell out in your head for your sanity’s sake. For a moment they still, letting you see the network of veins running all throughout them like threads which glitter like gold everytime they catch the peeking sunlight.

"What are you?” you ask shakily, after maybe minutes or maybe an hour of being rendered speechless.
“A fairy.” He replies, as if he’s only stating the obvious and as if you're nothing more than one those difficult five year olds who only question the most self-explanatory things.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks, the memory seeping in behind your closed eyelids like the same golden glow that that had lit up the darkest of alleyways the night before, as if the sun had descended down to the earth, merely to brighten that narrow strip of the world around the two of you. The memory comes with the soft sensation of his plushy lips, gently moving in sync against yours, the motion being so sweet, so full of emotion that you can physically feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach like a volcano. You can feel his harsh grip on your wrists, an action contrary to the ministrations of his gentle mouth and you can almost hear his ragged breathing, the thumping of your hearts. As the kiss gets fiercer with both passion and raw desperation so does the blinding light, which seems to be emanating from him somehow, grows brighter by the minute.

The memory comes to an abrupt end the same way the glowing boy had vanished from underneath your touch the night before, leaving you-reaching out for thin air, only to find nothing but the cool damp brick walls and the eerie darkness of the night.

“You’re the guy from the club last night!” You exclaim, cringing at how loud you were being.

He clicks his tongue, chuckling slightly as he turns to face you. “More like: You’re that absolutely breath-taking guy I made out with last night.” He corrects slyly, watching you become a hot mess with your blushing cheeks and indignant huffs.

 "Who also happens to be a psychopath, who calls himself a fairy.“ You retort.

But then your face is serious again, your eyes wandering over to find the tips of his wings,  rising from behind either of his shoulders, the very reminders of the queer possibility that the boy who stands in front of you might not even be human. "Fairies don’t exist.” you state bluntly, not wanting to believe any of it in fears of losing your sanity the moment you do.

“Yeah, the same way your brain doesn’t.” He mocks openly, eyes alight even though his face is deadpan.

“That’s it. Leave now or else I’m calling the police. Hell how did you even break into my room?” You threaten, trying to sound as convincing as possible even though you know your phone’s probably still in your bag which is very conveniently nowhere in sight. You’re sure he senses the emptiness of your threat as well for he shrugs as if to say go ahead, challenging you to do something you obviously can’t do. You don’t move an inch not knowing what to do really. Your eyes keep returning to the wings and you ache to touch them speculating whether they’ll vanish like a dream even with the slightest of your touch.

“What’s holding you back babe?” He asks you the obvious, enjoying your discomfort more than he should. “Just a quick reminder though… most normal humans don’t really see me. Also you should stop staring so much. ” He mutters the last bit and shocked you avert your eyes cursing yourself silently for being so stupid.

“Why do I see you then?” You ask wondering if he was only bluffing you just to keep you from calling for help.“That’s my question to you.” He says in response baffling you even further. “Why do you see me Miss Human.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only was a psychotic full grown man telling you that fairies exist, but apparently you were a psychopath as well, seemingly gifted with some supernatural vision of sorts. What were you? A ghost whisperer for crying out loud?

“I’m real” he says, as if reading the turmoil that’s churns loudly in your head, his words looking to reassure to you, your sanity in this absolutely mad scenario. You give your head a shake when you find yourself almost believing him. No way any of this was real.

“Why are you here then?” You ask, standing your ground now more than ever. “Shouldn’t you be fluttering around in some magical meadow tucked away in the forests of never land sprinkling gold dust like confetti?”

“Well, yeah I truly should be.” He replies sounding rather honest, and it takes you aback.  “Also the pollution of the city is affecting my health- I don’t get how you humans live in such filth. Also Namjoon must be missing me.” He completes, saying it all more to himself than to you. You do not understand, neither do you wish to. You were an ordinary girl in an extremely ordinary world. You plaster an awfully fake smile onto your face. “You don’t wish to live in this little pigsty like world of ours, right? Then maybe you should just leave.”

 He chuckles and it’s a rather beautifully troublesome sound.

“Not just yet. This world might be a pigsty but I think I just found my favourite little piggy.”

 *

Time waits for no one.

Neither do you, Y/N- who won’t allow a strange nonsensical fantasy to threaten your very sensible reality. Y/N has never been late for a lecture in her entire 20 years of living and today was going to be no exception.

You storm into your bathroom before he can react, his little term of endearment grating on your nerves as if it were steel wool. You make sure to lock the door behind you (not sure if it were enough to keep a creature like him out though) as you turn on the faucet getting ready to shower. All by yourself, you somehow try to restrain the flurry of emotions threatening to claw out of your trembling heart and driving you berserk. You push fear and logic aside, instead contemplating idly as to what might have lead to you getting caught up in such a sheer misfortune spelled out like a curse on you.  Had you woken up on the wrong side of your bed? Or, had the foolish you assassinated the emperor of a holy land in cold blood sometime in your previous life? Either ways fate had finally latched on to your throat, deciding to make you pay in the most insane and mythic of ways; that was for sure.

Somehow pulling together a somewhat decent outfit and pulling your unruly hair back into a pony tail you stumble back out into your room. For a moment you hope to find the place empty, hope that the fairy had finally crawled back into his fairy tale where it rightfully belonged; but to your disappointment, like an embodiment of every single misery of your own, he stands there, arms crossed across his still very naked chest, in the very middle of your room. The memory from last night trickles into your mind and your heart beat grows erratic once again. An irrational part of you aches to be that close to him once again and that irrational you aches to feel him against you in a way where it was hard to tell where he began and you ended. A shameful blush blooms across your cheeks and you can only hope that it slips his attention. How many eons would it take to grow immune to his obvious good looks?

“Definitely not as sexy as last night but I still approve.” He sings and he seems to be scrutinising you the same way you’re doing him. And the sinister smirk on his astoundingly beautiful face makes the last of pink from your face fade. You literally growl at him in irritation, wondering if a human was strong enough to rip a fairy’s annoyingly pretty head off. However, violence wasn’t an option when your race against time had no intention of losing its pace and if you didn’t hurry you’d be late for your test.

“Go back to your mythical land you useless creature. I’ve got reality to attend to.” You sigh dejectedly, not knowing what to do or expect. How long was he planning on lurking around here? And it’s only for a moment but the smugness falters from his face, and you catch a glimpse of regret and something entirely else through the cracks.

You turn around not wanting to see anymore. Grabbing your house keys from the nearly shelf as you head towards the door to your apartment, you half-heartedly hope that a fairy would have better intentions than burglarizing the flat of an already debt ladden university student. “Well then I hope you enjoy your stay here. Just make sure you disappear by the time I get back.” You say without turning back. Your words are met with silence when you had very much been expecting a lame sarcastic retort and you whip around, your eyes searching for the fairy but finding him nowhere. Maybe you had hit a nerve with your sharp words, maybe you had been a bit too harsh. He was gone.

You should be rejoicing, truly rejoicing. Afterall, you had finally woken up from your rather drawn out nightmare, but you fail to understand why instead of relief your heart gives you a painful squeeze, leaving you slightly breathless and uneasy. You think back to the inkling of sorrow you had witnessed on his face a few moments ago and you find yourself curious as to how devastatingly beautiful the curve of his plush lips lifted into a genuine smile would look like. You didn’t even know his name, that is, if he had one.Guess you’d never know now and maybe it shouldn’t bother you this much. He was gone and this was definitely good riddance.

You’re not convinced.

“What’re you spacing out for?” His voice rings out once again but definitely not from where you expect it to come from, but you feel the cool touch of his hand as it wraps around your own and you almost immediately jerk back in absolute shock, either from the sudden charge that cackles like electricity where his skin’s comes into contact with yours or from the fact that he’s standing outside your door instead of inside your room- a door he had definitely never gone through. Of course you think.

“So where are we headed?” He asks, his mask of smugness back on in full throttle and the mischief in his voice as present as ever.

“School.” You mutter brushing past him as you go on ahead before he notices the way a silly grin almost threatens to break through.

“Also… put on a damn shirt you monster.”

2

SANJI/PUDDING FANMIX: FACADE

facade (n): show, front, appearance, illusion, mask, veil, cloak, masquerade

“A relationship is built on the top of facade when two people step on a royal wedding which is full of conspiracy. When sacrifice is an illusion, trust is betrayed, love is just a game, and tears are shed; which side will win in the end? The actor behind his mask or the actress behind her veil?”

>> LISTEN on Youtube or Spotify

This is a collaboration fanmix made by me and @douxpudding​. Tracks are arranged by chapter order from 845-864, better not to play in shuffle. Annotation/Lyrics snippet are under the cut.

Keep reading