Together They Will Soar (a one-shot) by Bertie Bott
Together They Will Soar (a one-shot) by Bertie Bott
Hey guys! The first chapter of my newest story is up. It’s called Thicker than Water and it’s a Vampire Diaries fan fiction story.
I’ve recently decided to pick up my writing again and you’ll find all of my stories have been published here on the site in their current forms. Some of them have been published on fanfiction.net or archiveofourown.org, but there is quite a bit of work here that’s never been published on either one. There are a couple of reasons for that. The first being that one of the stories is original fiction and doesn’t belong on those sites and the second being that I was embarrassed, but these stories are what they are and I’ve spent too long hiding.
Most of these are works in progress, but “As I Lay Me Down” and “Waking Up One Fine Morning” are completed stories and have been published in their entirety.
Today, I am saddened and honestly heart-sick over the events of the last year, but especially the last 2 days. On Tuesday, Christians in this country proclaimed loudly, with what appears to be one voice, that being anti-abortion and anti-Islam is more important to them than love of their fellow man.
I will not call these people pro-life because to condemn millions of their fellow countrymen to live in fear for the next four years is not pro-life. To work to deny millions of women access to necessary healthcare because you don’t like that they can also get in an abortion in a safe, regulated environment is not pro-life. To tell millions upon millions of Americans that they do not belong here because you don’t like the religion they practice, the color of their skin or they way they got here is not pro-life. You are anti-abortion and that is all there is to it.
These “Christian” voters, who voted for a man who regularly incites violence, spews hate speech and threatens any who disagree with him, are not the kinds of Christians I want to be associated with.
Today I learned that people I have known my entire life, people I have grown with, celebrated with, cried with, and who’s hearts I once would have said I knew as well as my own, have not only voted for hatred, but are actively defending it in order to justify one or two issues.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but what I do know is that this country has been divided yet again, and for there to be any healing, we have to let go of hate and discrimination, and I don’t know if there is way back from this.
I have put this out there because people annoy the hell out of me with this: don’t ever make someone ashamed of what they choose to read. I get so sick of self righteous “literature girls” going on and on about how the people who read and enjoyed “Twilight” should be ashamed of themselves and Bella doesn’t belong on any info graphics that shows fictional heroines in a positive light. Get over it. I’m willing to bet there are millions of young women who would have never picked up another book after high school if it hadn’t been for Twilight.
I read. I read a lot. Like a book or two a week, as well as hundreds of pages of fanfiction, but I can honestly say that, in general, I don’t like books that most people classify as literature. I find them tedious, boring and unenjoyable. Give me a good old fashioned romance or fantasy story any day. However, I would never, in a million years suggest that someone burn their copy of “Pride & Prejudice” no matter how much I personally may have hated it. End Rant.
You come into awareness slowly, as the final wisps of a dream filter away. It takes a few moments of drowsing in your semi conscious state for you to become aware that there is something amiss. Small things begin to filter slowly in your senses, a trace scent of expensive cologne, a warm weight around your waist, that seems to be holding on tightly, a warm and breathing mass at your back.
Your eyes fly open, and remaining vestiges of sleep chased away by sheer panic. You’d scream but your heart is simultaneously trying to beat out of your chest and climb out of your throat. Quickly scanning your surroundings, you calm down enough to breathe, when you recognize the over-stuffed bookcases, the multitude of pictures and posters on the wall across from you, the alarm clock next to your head, which reads 6:25 AM and the black and green bedding. All of these things belong to you, so you are in your own apartment, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you can feel whoever it is behind you breathing, their breath gently ruffling your hair, you might have calmed down.
You aren’t uncomfortable by any means, the person behind you gives off a sense of warm familiarity, and you feel like you should know who it is, and you instinctively trust them, but you definitely do not remember inviting someone into your bed last night.
Thinking back as hard as you can, you know you spent the evening alone, dashing home from work, to change into your workout clothes for dance class (which you only take because you’ll need some hot moves if you ever do actually meet Tom Hiddleston, the weight loss was a side benefit), and then home again and into your favorite plush pajama bottoms and a tank top, thankfully you are still wearing those. Dinner and “The Avengers” while you spend two hours browsing pinterest and hanging out on Facebook before going to bed with a book.
Nope, there’s nothing in there to suggest the current turn of events you find yourself in. Recent evidence suggests that the person holding you is most definitely a man, and you find yourself not as scared as you should be, but intrigued. Your internal monologue has taken some time, and you don’t think they mean you any harm, because if they did, they probably would have done something already, so with a quiet sigh, you gather the courage to turn over and meet your mystery guest. Wiggling a little to loosen the grip he has on you, you slowly turn over and find yourself face to face with a shirtless, deeply sleeping Thomas William Hiddleston.
Your entire body freezes, like a doe in the headlights, and you fight the urge to scream. What in the HELL is he doing in your bed. As the block spots begin to dance before your eyes, you realize that in your effort not to scream at the top of your lungs, you’ve stopped breathing. Surrendering yourself to the darkness, you can only thing one word: how?
The next time you become aware of your own existence, there are lips on your neck, hands on your hips and a quiet, rumbling voice telling you to wake up. “Come on, I know you’re awake now, open your eyes darling, I need to see them”
Just as you are about to panic and scream, you feel his lips on yours, and you are lost. Images begin to flash behind your eyes as you automatically kiss him back.
A chance meeting in a London park while you were on vacation, an exchange of phone numbers, dinner, dancing, a walk on a beach, a kiss under the stars, another kiss under the fireworks, a ring given under the Eiffel Tower, a quiet wedding, more days and nights together than you can count a running through your head at what seems like light speed. How could you have possibly forgotten even one second of your time with this incredible man? Then suddenly, there’s a bright light, a crash, pain, and then darkness. An impersonal, sterile hospital room, and then nothing until now.
The accident! You were hit by a car! The words drunk driver whisper through the darkness and the rest of the last year filters back in. Waking up in a hospital room, a bruised Tom sitting next to your bed, and you with no clue as to why your favorite actor is in your hospital room, the doctors and nurses making him leave after you had a panic attack, and then, finally, an explanation. You’ve lost five years of time. Amnesia. Tom adamantly telling your mom that he wasn’t giving up on you, and his attempts to get to know you again, the dates, the silly conversations, the time he took out of his life to try to fix this.
You can hear him calling your name through a fog, “You’re scaring me, please answer me, what’s going on” His terrified and concerned face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Unable to resist, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, needing to just hold him for a moment.
“Darling?” He finally questions. “What’s going on? You’re acting a little off this morning.”
You laugh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. In the last year, the “new” version of you has never been this affectionate with him, while the “normal” non-amnesiatic version of you is probably the most affectionate person on the planet, after Tom of course. “Thomas, sweetheart,” you begin, knowing you are probably going to give him a heart attack with the next words out of your mouth, “where are my wedding rings?”
He drops you back onto the bed as he sits up in shock, and you land with giggle, the look on his face is priceless. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, hair standing on end, oh, what you wouldn’t give for a camera right this minute.
“Are you,” he stops, closes his mouth, takes a deep breath, and starts again. “Are you back?” he whispers, clearly unable to believe it.
You launch yourself into his arms again. “Yes, I’m back, and I promise, I’ll never leave you again!” He hugs you tightly, happy and relieved to be reunited with you.
Welcome! This has become kind of a random blog that I can’t promise will be always up to date, but it will be fun when it is!
This is the place where I want to post my stories and fan fics, random thoughts, the things I discover while playing WoW or whatever else happens in my life!
I hope you enjoy living in my crazy world 🙂
I have decided, just about a month from my 28th birthday (I’ll be 28 on September 30), to start a blog.
Why now? The simple answer is: “Because I can.”
The more complicated answer is that I feel like I need a place to share all the lessons I’ve learned in the last year in my online dating life.
I’ve been single for close to four years and last year, my mother decided that I needed to do something to change that, and proceeded to sign me up for eHarmony, subscription and all. The first thing I discovered was that almost no one in my area pays for that site, which makes it almost useless, except for those oh so rare “Free Communication Weekends.” I speak to the most men on those weekends, men who seem to completely disappear after Sunday night. I can’t even begin to tell you how incredibly frustrating that is, to spend to two days trying to get to know someone, progress to texting or email, and then have them just disappear.
I try not appear clingy or crazy, so I tend not to chase these guys down. I’ll text you first, but if you don’t want to text me back, fine, be that way. I’ll move on to someone else, but know that I think you’re a jerk, and I am going to tell my girlfriends, and apparently, the world.
So, this is my gift to myself this year, and my gift to all of you. You get to learn about all the funny, and sometimes, ridiculous things that I encounter in my day to day life working through the dating scene.