#113 words

[nic-mccool]

Garden

Where do the bad thoughts come from? Do they sprout from the soil of your mind amongst geraniums of genius irises of inspiration chrysanthemums of creativity— like weeds? Do the seeds come naturally, float through the air and neatly drift into dirt? Or planted, perhaps, intentionally by some sinister person. Are they the thorns on gentle thoughts, on the roses of rationality, or  what remain when these things decompose? Are they dandelions, despised, but with hidden practicalities? Are they mint that is so loved yet must be tamed?

Don’t know what else to ask, don’t know what more to say; if my mind is a garden, what role do bad thoughts play?

[shortficsdiary]

1.12.2018

Arima Kishou had one wish.

They say that in fairy tales, wishes might come true.

If Arima’s life was a fairy tale, then surely he’d be -

“No! Please! I don’t want to die!”

A slash. 

Blood. 

A body hits the ground.

Death.

- A monster.

Arima Kishou knew he was a monster.

And monsters never got their wishes granted. 

Monsters never had happily-ever-afters.

Monsters only knew how to kill.

Just like Arima.

“Arima-san, I brought you some new books today!”

But there was someone who cared for that monster.

Someone that monster cared for as well.

Someone who might grant that monster’s wish.

Arima Kishou wished to be loved.

Thank you, Haise.

[tchrgleek]

Klaine advent- Wedding

Kurt stood next to his father as Pastor Jones intoned some long-winded spiel about wives submitting to husbands and husbands dying for their wives. He pondered what that would mean for him if he was ever to get married himself. The traditional wedding scriptures didn’t really apply to his life, just like most scripture.

He was surprised, though, when Pastor Jones quoted from The Message, a modern translation of the bible. “Love never gives up . . . Always looks for the best, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end.”  

He heard Blaine’s voice echoing in his head “Don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back.” Maybe some things were universal. 

[foundloveinbudapest-blog]

one word prompt: stoic

“No one’s coming for you.”

Clint didn’t pay the whisper or the whisperer any attention. He stared ahead at a flaw in the brick wall and the spot where they’d slammed his head into the stone and his blood was smeared in an L-shape. He rotated his wrists in the ropes to keep the blood flowing, ignoring the way it rubbed against angry flesh.

“She’s gone. You’re next.”

Natasha wasn’t gone. She was hurt but he’d seen her take ten times worse and come out still standing. She would be fine.

Clint had to believe that.

“Play up the stoicism all you want but you’ll break eventually. Everyone does.”

Clint Barton wasn’t everybody.