while writing it

she’ll be the girl who answers your texts at 1 am
and picks you up when you’re too drunk to get home. she’ll look at you with stars in her eyes and knots in her stomach and she’ll ignore the blood in her mouth when she sees you kissing another girl. she’ll laugh when someone asks her about her future and try to shrug off her fear of being alone for the rest of her life. she’ll be the girl who will slit her wrists and call you for help because she needs someone to save her or at least want to try. she’ll say she doesn’t need anyone to make her whole but jesus fuck it would be nice if someone wanted to for once. she’ll be everything you need and everything you want, but she’s not the type of girl you love.
—  she’s used to being alone now
hurt tonight.

baz feels empty sometimes.  i got inspired for this fic by listening to let’s hurt tonight by one republic. the lyrics of the song don’t really have that much in common with the fic, it’s more the feel of the song that inspired me. 

word count: 2k


[Bunce]

Baz hadn’t been over for a few days. When Penny thought of it she realised it must have been at least a week since she’d seen Baz in the flat. Being busy with her homework had kept her ignorant to this, but now it was weekend and Simon was alone in his room. It was… strange. Baz often couldn’t stay away for longer than two days and the two of them barley ever spent time at Baz’ place.

Penny wondered if they might were in a fight. Even more so, she wondered if she should get involved with whatever was going on between the two of them or not. Her instant response to that would have been no, she was not involving herself in their problems. Though, after she’d thought it over again, she cared a lot more about their relationship than she would have preferred. They were both her friends—and she did not have many more friends besides the two of them—which meant she wished them the best they could have. Especially after all that Simon and Baz had already endured.

After a few moments lost in thought she decided that just asking Simon about it was the least she could do. Offering herself as a supportive listener was different from involving herself in their problems, she told herself.

“Come in,” said Simon shortly after Penny had knocked on his bedroom door.

She walked into his bedroom and saw Simon slouched on his bed with his laptop resting on his lap. He seemed relaxed, probably too relaxed for him to be in a fight with his boyfriend. Simon didn’t hide his emotions very well, you could basically feel any emotion radiating from him. Penny realised she would have known from more than just Baz’ absence if Simon and Baz had been in a fight. So… they weren’t in a fight?

“Baz hasn’t been around for a while. Why isn’t he here tonight? It’s weekend,” Penny asked, unable to keep the curiosity inside her.

Simon shrugged. “He’s been sick the last few days.”

Penny frowned at that. “But, Simon, he’s a vampire.”

Simon copied her frown. “I know… I guess it’s sick as in not feeling well. A vampire can still not feel well right?”

“Probably.”

“Yeah.”

“But,” Penny was still a bit confused about it all, “you don’t know anything more than that? What did he tell you exactly.”

“He said he wasn’t coming by because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“You didn’t ask him what was going on?” Penny asked.

Simon stared at her for a little while. “Should I have?”

“Didn’t you want to know?”

Simon shrugged again. “What difference would it have made?”

“You would have known.” And maybe he needs you, she thought, though she quickly argued herself on that. Baz knew Simon and knew the way Simon worked. If Baz was in need of Simon he should’ve told Simon. You couldn’t expect from Simon to read everything between the lines.

“I guess I would have, but knowing he isn’t feeling well seemed like enough information. I told him I’ll wait for him until he feels better.”

“Maybe you could visit him. Don’t you miss him?” Penny pushed.

“I could,” Simon said and became quiet for a bit. “What if he just wants rest, Penny? He didn’t tell me to come visit him.”

“Did he tell you not to come?”

“… No.”

“You could just text him and ask him if he’d like you to visit him,” Penny encouraged him. Penny felt a little ridiculous for having to help Simon this way, but she knew that sometimes Simon just needed a bit of guidance onto the right path.

Simon nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Penny said in satisfaction and she left his room.

A few minutes later Simon was at her bedroom door to let her know that he was going over to Baz’ place. Penny smiled to herself whilst shaking her head slightly. The two of them were a piece of work.

Keep reading

Fallen

Originally posted by yoonnoh

Description: October is always a month filled with odd happenings, but the weirdest thing by far is a bloody man showing up on your doorstep. 

Warning: Blood/Swearing

You hummed softly to yourself, fixing yourself a warm cup of tea in the kitchen, preparing to settle down on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and binge watch movies for October. The heat was up, the lights off, snacks were set out of the coffee table, and you were ready for a long night of not moving at all.
You had just sat down, remote in hand, when a loud rumble shook the house. Your face scrunched in confusion at the sound, like a way magnified bolt of thunder, but there was no storm on the radar for today, or any day coming up for that matter. The sound lasted longer than any thunder bolt you’ve heard and seemed to vibrate your entire body with the level of volume it carried before everything was silent again. Until the pounding at your front door rang through the quiet living room, making you feel uneasy.
“Please…” A rough voice said from the other side of your front door, belonging to the person knocking with urgency. “Please…I need help…”
At that, you jumped up, the tea you were holding falling to the ground, the cup shattering on the floor and liquid drenching the floor as you raced towards the door, unlocking it and flinging it open, shrieking at the sight that awaited you.
A man was crumpled on your front porch, clothes ripped, hair matted, blood seeping from somewhere on his back. He looked like he had to drag himself onto your porch, indicated by the drag marks of blood smeared across the concrete while the man laid on the ground, hand raised to knock again before you flung the door open.
“Oh my god what happened!?” You yelled, immediately falling to your knees and trying to help the man up, but stopped when he shouted it pain when you brushed his back.
“Don’t!” He gasped, clenching his teeth tightly.
“Oh my god oh my god!” You cursed, reaching for his arm this time, trying to lift the pretty much dead weight man, his weight making you collapse once before you managed to stand and awkwardly lean him against you.
The man continued groaning, gasping in pain with every move as you dragged him inside, attempting to get him to the couch.
Noting his back, you laid him on his front across the couch, stuttering to him, “W-wait here!”, and running off to find the phone to call 911.
Rushing back to him, you hit the digits, but his hand shot out to grab your hand, “Don’t! Don’t call anyone!”
“You need an ambulance! You need the police! What happened to you!?”
“Don’t call anyone!” He commanded through faces of pure agony, as he tried to sit up, taking the phone from you and chucking it across the room causing you to yell in protest. “Just listen to me! Get a first aid, and keep your mouth shut, okay?”
If he won’t let me call 911, first aid is the next best thing. You thought begrudgingly, and nodded before darting off to the bathroom, returning with the little bag of medical supplies.
“Where are you hurt?” You asked, eyeing the blood covered man, noting that the couch would definitely be cleaned after this mess.
“My back,” He answered, slowly undoing his shirt that was just a blood rag at this point. “Just my back.”
Nodding, you pulled some gauze and anti bacteria spray from the first aid, you waited for him to work the shirt that had dried slightly, forcing him to have to tear the shirt from the scabbing over wounds on his back, resulting in another sharp intake of breath from the man. Finally working the shirt off, he turned to give you access to his back, and it was your turn to gasp.
On either shoulder blade, two six inch straight lines were beginning to bleed profusely again after removing the shirt. The sight was shocking enough, deep wounds that looked like someone had sunk a hatchet into his back twice, open and red with agitation and blood. He’d definitely need stitches, no doubt about that.
“What the fuck happened to you!” You gasped, taking one of the gauze and stopping the blood trickling down his back from meeting your couch cushion.
“Please, I just need you to fix this,” The man swallowed hard, “And I’ll explain.”
Not satisfied with that answer, you couldn’t do anything but agree.
“You’re going to need stitches, you really should go to the hospital…”
“I can’t go to a hospital, just please…just sew me up.” The man pleaded.
Frowning, you stood to go find a needle and thread, returning and seeing the man looking over his shoulder at the damage, a grimace on his face, “Don’t look at them.”
“I’ve seen worse.” The man replied, flinching when you gently began dabbing his skin, trying to get the dried and fresh blood off his skin before you went any further.
“It looks like you just escaped a murder scene,” You said, shaking the anti bacteria spray, “Hold on, this’ll sting.”
You could see him take a deep breath, holding it before you sprayed his wounds, but he still let out a loud yell, his muscles tensing at the pain.
“This is going to be worse.” You mumbled, not happy about the next part. You carefully threaded the needle, and counted to ten in your head, while the man clenched his fists in preparation for the feeling to come.
His fingers dug into his covered thighs when the needle pierced his skin, each move more painful than the last as you tried your best to close up his gaping would with sewing thread. His shaky breath was all you could hear when you sprayed the one side again before covering it in gauze.
Doing the same to the other wound, you found yourself holding your breath just like the man as you repeated each step carefully to avoid hurting him more than he already was. When the last gauze was taped to him, his breathing was heavy, body weak from all the strain it had just went through.
Before you tucked everything away, you brought him a cup of water and a couple pain pills, which he accepted with a shaky hand.
“Now,” You said, sitting on the coffee table and observing the man. “Are you going to tell me who you are and what the fuck happened now?”
“I did say I would,” He nodded, “My names Ten. As for what happened…you likely won’t believe it.”
“Try me,” You said, “Was it an ax murderer?”
“Not quite, no.” He shook his head.
“Then what?” You asked.
“I fell,” Ten said bluntly. “I’m an angel, and I fell from Heaven.”

i follow a trail of pennies and meet you
at the crest of the hill, you holding
a four-leaf clover in each hand
and one between your lips, and i
wonder what liquid luck must taste like
 
see, i know myself; i know all the selves
spaced evenly across the branching worlds
and it is only this world where the tumbling dice
led me to stand before you
(basic probability is taught with cards
and i know nothing about them
but this i have always known to be true:
 
if you let hearts drop from your willing hands
too often, they will come fewer
and farther apart) and i
have no intention of pressing my luck
—  fail to reject (hypothesis)
abstractedfocus

@elletromil @trekkiepirate @hepcatliz

Eggsy finds himself shoved unceremoniously through the doors of the sheriff’s office. Bound hands keep him from regaining his balance, and he ends up on his knees. He wrenches his head around to glare up at Hesketh. Someday that pretty little rich boy is going to find himself on the wrong end of Eggsy’s whip.

-

Sheriff Hart glances up from his desk, gaze resting briefly on Eggsy before focusing on Hesketh. “Charlie,” he says dryly. “Who might this be?”

“Rustler,” Charlie replies. “I caught him sneaking around my father’s ranch, looking for weaknesses in the fence. Didn’t find any, though, did you?” This last he directs towards Eggsy.

Eggsy’s lip curls upwards in distaste. He doesn’t respond.

One of Harry’s eyebrows creeps upwards, but he’s careful to keep his interest off his face. “Thank you, Charlie. I can take it from here.”

Charlie leaves, but he doesn’t look entirely happy about it.

Harry is certain he would have preferred to see justice carried out fully. “So,” Harry says, standing and wandering around to the front of his desk. He’s better able to see Eggsy this way, and he notices how very young the boy looks. “You’re a rustler, then.”

Eggsy stays silent, glaring resolutely up at him.

“Well, you can’t be a very good one,” Harry continues without missing a beat. “Considering you’re here in my office instead of out there,” a nod towards the door, “stealing cattle.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, and finally breaks his silence. “Tell me, mate, you ever heard of an Eggsy Unwin?”

Harry’s eyes narrow momentarily as he racks his memory. Eventually, he’s forced to admit that he has not.

Eggsy smirks. “Course you haven’t. That’s cause I’m good enough not to get caught. Usually,” he adds, a touch begrudgingly.

Harry hums. “Is that so?” He peers more intently at Eggsy, his conversation with Merlin replaying in his head. 

-

“This is going nowhere fast,” Merlin growled. He scrubbed a hand over his face, looked at Harry with steel in his eyes. “I need something more, someone better. The men I have now are nothing short of incompetent.”

Harry pursed his lips. “What kind of men do you need?”

Merlin glanced at him sidelong. “Ones who know how to get in and out of a place without being caught out. Ones who have experience, goddammit, not a bunch of fledglings looking to test their wings.” He slammed a hand on his desk in frustration and heaved a sigh.

Harry scratched at his chin, watching his friend. It wasn’t often that Merlin showed his emotions so openly; this must really be getting to him. “I can’t make any promises,” he says carefully, but I’ll see what I can do.”

-

Eggsy draws back slightly, eyes gleaming with suspicion. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

One corner of Harry’s mouth curls upwards. “Eggsy Unwin, I have a proposition for you.”

Yo!

I know I already said not to expect much fic wise as finals are approaching but now I’m here to say expect nothing.

To keep a long story short, I believe I’ve aggravated an old shoulder injury and it hurts like hell so I’m borrow my friend’s sling and keeping it rested until after finals when I’m back home and can go to a doctor.

Before you guys ask me why I don’t just go to the on campus clinic- @riseofthehufflepuffs went there for her shoulder injury earlier this year and their treatment for it was giving her a sling (the one I’m using now).

So, I’m just going to wait until after school gets out. By then I’ll be done with finals and if the shoulder pain hasn’t gone away, I’ll go to a doctor to see if I have to get whatever it is treated.

When I first started reading SNK, my thoughts always were “Everyone can be killed so I must prepare myself” but now that Ymir is officially dead I don’t know what to do anymore. Since the letter she wrote to Historia, she could be dead. But I always hoped that she’d be alive. Breathing. Thinking on Historia. Trying to get a way to work things out. But she was coldly killed off. We weren’t even able to see her last words, only her sad and tired face in one single panel. Her development and principles were thrown in the trash. It was a lazy and bad writting. I will never accept that.

4

YOLO.exe - PART 1

> a Fatal_Error has Occurred Side Comic

> Non-canon Comic

> Next


This is the beginning of a very fun interaction ;)

For those who may not know/remember, this is Fresh_Hell :D

It’s important to note that this is the first non-canon side comic I’ve started- this isn’t actually part of the canon story. It’s more of a fun ‘what if’ scenario to explore. Even though he probably actually never would, what if Fresh decided to possess Fatal_Error? What would happen next?

I have several ideas for comics like these, but I can’t start some until certain parts of the canon story have happened, or else they won’t make any sense, or might spoil something in the main comic before we get to it. The same can be said for the canon side comics too - it’s all about timing. So comics like these might pop up from time to time, and update as we go along.

But anywho I’m rambling ^^

Peace out, brahs <3

Fresh belongs to @loverofpiggies!

Voltron retail AU

- lance is the jewelry guy
- he wears dangly blue earrings
- his regular customers are cute old ladies who always think he needs to eat more
-when he’s not attending customers he flirts with the cute dressing room attendant
-Keith is the dressing room attendant
- it’s mostly slow, but he can see the jewelry department from his post
- people ask him for opinions on their outfits
- he’s uncomfortable sharing his fashion advice, but he’s really good at it
- hunk and pidge are markdowns. And backroom. And overnight.
- They pretty much live in the store.
- they have their own secret lingo for the goings on.
- they will drop everything if someone brings in a cute dog
- shiro is the head cashier/coordinator.
- the customers love him. He’s charming and they forget how much they’re spending.
- he organizes breaks and returns
-lance always pesters him about it
- he and allura work well together
-they have their own sign language they use to talk from opposite sides of the store
-they think they’re sly about it (they’re not)
- allura is their favorite manager
- she is scary but treats them well
- she loves setting up fancy feature tables
- matt is security
- when he applied he thought it was tech security. Orientation was awkward
- he actually does really well though
- he blends in wearing regular clothes and his low center gravity is perfect for tackling would be thieves
-Shiro find this hilarious
-the galra are the walmart across the street
-more stuff available. But no morals

anonymous asked:

i don't know if you do this kind of thing,,but do you have any klance headcanons? i desperately need more klance in my life

this is it. this is my moment. well, my dude, you have come to the right place. get ready bc this is going to get very very very klance-y

  • keith, being the touch-starved emo alien cat that he is, has these moments where he just,,wraps his arms around an unsuspecting victim and just lays there. sometimes for hours. (read:lance is usually said unsuspecting victim)
  • “you do realize there’s a drill going on right now, right?” “shut up and hold me.”
  • during training, they try so hard to one-up each-other that they end up passing out from exhaustion
  • “keith, keith, keith, show them the thing!” “blep.” “oh my gOD-”
  • maybe blep will be our always
  • lance is always walking around the castle shirtless in the morning, the reason being keith is always taking damn shirts and never giving them back
  • “lance, where are your clothes?” “idk ask keith.”
  • regardless of height, lance is always the little spoon. always. forever. don’t question it.
  • the castle went under maintenance once, and keith was forced to share a room with lance. needless to say, even after his room was finished, keith never left
  • lance gives off a lot of body heat, which makes him the perfect person to cuddle with, especially for keith, whose about as warm as a box of penguins (aka cold af someone gives this boy a jacket or smth)
  • also, since lance is always so goddamn warm, he and keith don’t even need blankets when they sleep together
  • did i mention keith was a closet meme
  • *lance is about to do something reckless with his lion* “hoe don’t do it-” *lance does it* “oh my god.”
  • “this is, as you Earth people say, lit?” “say lit one more time.”
  • lance loves his meme bf
  • keith knows that lance is Disgusted by his texan accent, so he makes it a point to slip into it just to annoy the hell out him
  • “hey y’all, what do-” “nonono keith ily but shUT YOUR QUIZNAK.”
  • pineapple on pizza discourse
  • “lance i swear to god if you eat that i will never kiss you again”
  • lance does it anyways
  • the Bonding Moment is an inside joke of theirs
  • “Hey Keith?” “Lance it’s like 2 in the morning what do you want?” “Do you think Vrepit Sa stands for Dicks Out for Zarkon?”
  • pillow talk pillow talk pillow talk
  • their relationship is just disgusting
Chubby body appreciation post tho???

Soft bodies are so?? GOOD??
Big tummies are good pillows and good kissing surfaces.
Tummies with stretch marks?? GOSH, YES??? It’s like nature itself is putting down a trail of lightning that says “KISS HERE PLEASE”

And chubby/fat arms though? Can we JUST? Thighs and stomachs get a lot of love (and rightfully deserved) but can we talk about ARMS??
That cute arm chub that I just want to be wrapped up in a hug and a snuggle in? SO PRECIOUS?? 
People with such soft, cuddly arms that there’s lil bumps and stretches from cellulite?? CUTE??

And soft necks? Necks with some squish on them? Very extra kissable?? And squishy cheeks GODDD I WANNA SMOOSH YOUR CUTE CHEEKS KISS ALL OVER YOUR FACE!!! And when people have chubby cheeks and lil dimples?? Or when they have high cheekbones so when their cheeks are chubby they’re VERY prominently chubby?? THIS IS GOOD AND FANTASTIC??

And THIGHS. My god. Thick thighs are never praised enough no matter how hard one tries. Big, soft laps are so perfect for laying your head on! And stretch marks on big thighs? Cute lightning patterns to trail your fingers over or gently kiss when you’re already laying in their lap?? YES!!
Cellulite on thighs is also so so good and cute!! Dimples in cheeks are wonderful and so are dimples in thighs and butts?? CUTE!!!

Hips with squish over them?? GAH!! I CANNOT HANDLE!!! Please be more confident with your hips (if you feel comfortable) because when you are you give me LIFE!!!

Back rolls?? CUTE and very fun to trace hands over and hold onto during snuggles!! Looks very cute all the time! 

Chubby/fat bodies in crop tops and short shorts?? YES!!! CUTE!!!

Chubby/fat bodies in sweat pants and a tshirt? EXTRA SOFTNESS TO THE SOFT CUTIE!!!

Chubby/fat bodies in swimsuits?? VERY CUTE?? Swim trunks and soft belly is very very good!!
One pieces that cling tight to your stomach or ride up your thighs are still cute no matter what anyone says!!
Two pieces? GOOD!!! You look so cute! Don’t feel obligated to cover that adorableness if you don’t wanna!! 

Chubby/fat bodies in lingerie?? SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!! When stomach is tucked into cute underwear it is very very adorable and when there’s chub over low rise underwear it’s also very very cute and endearing!! THIGH HIGHS?? UGH, MY HEART. I KNOW THAT THEY PROBABLY ARE FALLING DOWN CONSTANTLY BUT THANK YOU FOR WEARING THEM YOU’RE DOING US ALL AN AMAZING SERVICE.

In conclusion:
Softness is good
I will kiss you all over
Holding you and feeling handfuls of squish is amazing
I love you

Night AUs

- You talk in your sleep and you pretty much just described to me, in extremely graphic detail, how you would kill someone and now I’m too scared to fall asleep

- (On the flip side) you made a lot of sexual noises while you slept, what (or who) were you dreaming about??

- Okay I get that ocean noises help people go to sleep but you’ve literally been playing whale mating calls at full volume for the past hour and if you don’t stop soon I’m gonna come over and smack you

- We both planned to stay up all night but you ended up falling asleep and you just woke up to me standing next to you with a bowl of warm water in my hands-I can explain

- We were both going to pull an all nighter to study for an exam tomorrow but now it’s 6 am and we just finished an entire tv series and I can’t believe you let this happen

- it’s 4 am and we’re both running solely on Red Bull and coffee at this point and we just had the most in depth discussion about eggs I swear to god

Okay, so I know Matt coming into the team and being super talented is good for the Langst, but what if it was good for the Langst?

 Lance has another of his insecure jealousy laden rants at Matt, and Matt, who has interacted with humans as a normal person, not a cryptid hunting knife boy recognizes what is happening.  So he just very calmly asks why he thinks the team is looking for a replacement. Not in a smug way, but as a genuine ‘what makes you think that’ way. 

And Lance spills his insecurities about not having a thing while they’re all amazing at something, and just being a tag along no really likes or needs. 

Which leads to Matt countering that Katie thinks he’s a very welcoming, fun person who helped her buy a silly console to feel better, and stood up for her in the garrison despite her self-inflicted distance. 

That Hunk proudly calls Lance his best friend, savior of an oceanic world, his best and most-reliable taste tester, and confidant. 

He especially talks of how highly Shiro praised his skills as a shooter, and how selfless, and dedicated Lance could be. 

Of the stories, he’d heard of the charismatic blue paladin of Voltron, who helped lighten the atmospheres of newly saved planets. 

Matt sheepishly admitting that Keith’s a little hard to talk to, but at the very least he’s never seen someone put so much effort into a friendship they felt they weren’t getting anything from. Because Keith is real bad at socializing, but he sure seems to try with, and for the team. Lance in particular. 

He also points out that he’s only known Lance for a short time, but he sees the good points in him that he’s heard of quite clearly, even if Lance can’t. And that no one can replace anyone because we’re all us, and no one else. 

Lance is probably crying a little (or a lot) by now, but Matt knows they’re not sad tears, and even through Lance’s denials assures him he’ll believe it someday. 

The next day Matt tells Shiro they need to Talk, and Shiro has never so much wished for death than in that moment with Matt Gunderson giving him a stern look, and the knowledge of an oncoming lecture. No one even tries to save him.

The lecture is on the emotional well-being of his team, and how none of them should be breaking down in terrified jealousy because they think they’re nothing. 

umm AU where harry just went through a really bad breakup in which his douchey ex-fiance leaves him for a huge corporate job offer. which yeah good for him except he was a jerk about the breakup, left him via phone message, and didn’t look back. which sucks all on it’s own but now harry finds himself confused because he’s not nearly as sad as he thinks he should be about it, and frustrated because he has two non refundable tickets for a honeymoon cruise. enter childhood best friend louis, who he calls up the night before while packing and is all like, “ummmm so. how’s a free vacation sound?” and louis’s like “nothing’s free in life harold…. but….. i’m listening.” it honestly doesn’t even take anything to convince louis. most of his protest is just for show because harry can already hear him dragging his suitcase out of the closet. so.

so they arrive at the dock where they’re supposed to board the ship and louis’s like “um so why is everyone holding hands lol” and harry’s all “yeah…. so… funny story… ummmm i got dumped and this is my honeymoon cruise surprise :)” (louis is tempted to throw him overboard. they haven’t even gotten on the boat yet but the sentiment is still the same). but now that louis knows the whole story (which harry tells amidst deep frowns and lots of tears), he is determined to be the best fake™ husband ever. so he signs them up for all the couples activities because “go big or go home styles. or tomlinson. styles-tomlinson? who are we again?” and they end up doing better than most of the couples there when it comes down to How Well Do You Know Your Spouse trivia. it should be embarrassing really, because everyone around the ship already knows them as the dream team and it’s only been 4 days.

cue dramatic confessions, bed sharing that means nothing till it means something, an obscene amount of nautical references, and cameos by the rest of one direction lol

Inspired by THIS POST about gay Disney Princesses. 


When the old beggar comes to the door, Addy knows better than to let her in. She doesn’t look at the rose or the woman too long; she shuts the door.

Some will call her arrogant or selfish, but what is she to do? No guards, parents in the capital (not, here, not here), and the knowledge that she is the damsel in all those fairy tales weighs heavily on her mind. Oh, little princess, far from home and alone, so alone.

The Enchantress (for they do not call her witch) makes sure that she stays that way.

Alone except for her wilting rose.

(She did not want it, would not take it, so she was bound to it. Such is the way of Princesses.)

———————————-

Addy used to have frightful bursts of temper. Her face would turn red, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth screwed into an upside down kidney bean. Anything could set her off; a too tight corset, a walk ended too quickly, another toy sword taken away. She’d wail and scream, kick her feet and punch the air, tear and rend anything within arm’s reach.

The first time she has a fit in her new form, it’s after Mrs. Potts reads the King and Queen’s decision on her…condition. She’s to stay here, on the outskirts of their kingdom, until a Prince comes to release her from her spell. Alone until a different sort of bond is forced on her, until she is made to change from princess to beast to bride.

Addy know why they refuse to save her. It’s because she’s always been too big, too strong, too ill-tempered, too–

In her rage, Addy upends the tea tray, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

She is reminded when fine china falls to the hard ground, when it rattles, when it shatters, when it screams.

“No!” Addy falls to her knees next to her dishes– no, her friends and frantically rights them, apologies tumbling from her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Temper,” Mrs. Potts murmurs, more out of reflex than anything, looking obviously terrified. She hops from her side to her base, better able to control her new body than any other castle resident. Her lid is sitting askew and her eyes are wide (so wide) as they dart from one cup to another. “Daniel? Daniel!”

Addy cuts herself on broken porcelain and flinches. She–she’d killed him, she’d been so thoughtless, how could she? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“I’m okay,” a little voice says. “I’m okay, Mom!”

 Addy sobs as she locates him under the silver platter, on his side, trapped. She throws the platter too hard, lodging it in the wall, and takes Daniel in her paws.  

“It’s okay, Princess Addy,” Daniel chirps at her. He’s a little older than her, just a few years, and he’s always trying to be strong. His eyes are wide (too wide), but he offers her a tremulous smile. “I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Potts says and her china clinks as she hops forward. 

Addy’s eyes lock on the horrible, huge chip in his rim. 

I did that.

She’s across the room before being aware of setting Daniel down, of standing, of leaping away.

“Princess,” Mrs. Potts says from her low, low position on the floor. “What–”

“Don’t call me that,” Addy grits out. Her huge body leans heavily against the door, making it groan, as she desperately tries to wrap her paw around the handle. She can’t stop looking at the chip, the proof of harm, the proof that something much worse can happen so easily. “Don’t call me– I’m not–I’m not the Princess. I’m the Beast.”

The door crashes open and she disappears.

————————————————

It’s weeks before the servants realize that she’s never going to answer to her name again. She no longer sleeps in her princess bed or attempts to wear her princess clothes. She wears pants scavenged from the servants’ quarters, tunics from her father’s closet, ties her mane back with twine instead of ornaments.

“Addy!” they call. “Princess Addy!”

The Beast doesn’t even know who that is.

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“Do you ever not watch me sleep?” Dean’s voice is sleep-rough and quiet, though barely piercing the dark solitude of his bedroom. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to feel Cas lying beside him, gaze fixed on Dean’s face.

“No,” Cas whispers, and Dean inhales when he feels fingers trailing his jaw.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. But yet you seem to enjoy it.”

Dean shifts to make himself more comfortable, rolling to face Cas. He finally opens his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. When Cas’s face comes into focus, he smiles – sleepy and sated. A smile reserved only for Cas in these quiet moments, away from the chaos of their lives. “I like knowing you’re here with me. Safe. That’s my favorite thing.”

“What is?”

Dean’s hand closes around Cas’s jaw as he shifts forward to press their foreheads together. He breathes in and lets his lips brush Cas’s before he speaks. “You being safe. I can’t think of anything better than that.”

He feels Cas smile. “I love you, too, Dean.”