#x I will meet you where the spirit meets the bones x First Kill Season 1

[finsterhxgel]

@vandbaerer​ ♥’ed 1/2 // Jules for Calliope

                          “Had I known to look for you in my dreams I would have gone to sleep hours ago”, her smile is radiant as her heartbeat already quickens. Jules reaches for Calliope’s hands, eager to feel the others touch - even if it is just here, in their land of make believe. “My parents are freaking out, but I told them they cannot keep me from you, forever.”

[malereader-inserts]

The Night We Met

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Jughead Jones x Male!Reader Summary: There’s too much pain in his heart, he really wish it will go away soon. Word Count: 1,575 Request:  I. Need. ANGST! (Please feed me some angst 🥺) Warning: Suicide, depression A/n: I would love more angst prompts.

Riverdale is a small place, it’s a town where everyone knows everyone. 

Death is common, it’s heartbreaking, but somehow it’s always more saddening when it’s a young person, just because they had so much life to experience. Riverdale is a quiet town, really, but it was only loud because of one young lad. 

Jughead Jones was very fond of this person.

You weren’t too bright that people hated to look your way, you were too good for this world. But, you were real. There wasn’t negativity in your body other than your outlook in life, you were so kind that the elderly always see you and offering your time to help them. You would help struggling students with subjects, you were an inspiration to Jughead’s side project - to tell the perfect story of you. 

See, you were a soft boy. The boy who wore round glasses, oversized sweaters and baggy jeans. Sometimes, you would wear your overalls with your long shirt underneath and converse to match. You weren’t afraid to express yourself, you were too good for this world because nothing should harm you.

So, how can this happy boy kill himself?

The town mourns because this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

The kid, you, you were supposed to go - be free. You were supposed to leave Riverdale, make it big in the big city. Make friends, make a family, expand your horizons. 

You’re just a boy.

It hurts so much, to think, to feel. 

Jughead hated it, your story was supposed to be making it far and yet it was ending abruptly. Jughead remembers the night you met him, it was just you and him in Pop’s diner. The neon lights illuminating your face, Jughead cannot help but feel threatened by your looks.

You sat across him, sipping a cold beverage. One leg up on the booth and your arms leaning against your knee. Jughead remembers vividly the rings you hand on your fingers, the chains around your neck - the dull brown striped sweater that seems to contrast the white collar from a shirt under it. 

You two seem to hit it off that night, you were laughing at each other’s jokes, the occasional flirty remark, exchanging numbers and kept “running into each other at pop’s late at night when it’s just you and him.

“I want to write a book about you, (Y/n),” Jughead says, as you looked at him curiously, “You’re interesting.”

“Far from it, Jughead.”

He stood by your side most of the time, somehow you two formed a relationship - it was so unlikely, but it was right. Two boys just in love with each other, they see nothing but each other. Jughead adores the book he has written about you, there’s a load of wisdom sprouted from your mouth. 

“People tend to forget to tell each other how much they love or miss you or need you, and even if they do remember, sometimes they're just too shy, too scared, too certain it's the wrong thing to say or the wrong timing. But it's not. It never is. Say it before it's too late. For all we know, it could all be different tomorrow.”

“It really could.”

“I could die tomorrow, and I know there will be a lot of unsaid things in the air. There will be regret.”

Jughead looks at you, “Are you okay?”

You shrugged your shoulder, there was a faint smile on your face, “I haven’t been okay for a long time,” There was a beat silence as you laugh, “I’m just kidding, Jug, I’m okay.”

Jughead wishes he didn’t believe it - but foolishly, he did.

Life continues, he recalls how happy you were, there was nothing in life that could go wrong for you. And yet, you let out your deepest feelings in the late night meet up at Pop’s.

“You know,” You sighed, leaning your head back against the window, “I’m tired of feeling-”

“Huh?”

“I’m so done with life, this life I mean. Reincarnate me to another lifetime like two hundred years from now, maybe it’ll be better.”

“That is if climate change hasn’t taken us already,” Jughead say as you chuckle softly, “Maybe we’ll have robots.”

“Maybe, they’ll lower the age of drinking.”

There you go, joking again, as if you haven’t accidentally got to deep in your feelings. Jughead remembers how you were, and now he cringes. It’s all there, the signs of calling for help - right in front of him. And, he brushed it off because he thinks you’re joking.

Jughead remembers.

It hurts.

He had all, and then most of you. Some and now none of you.

He remembers how you started to drift away from him. The meetings late night started to be rare until you stopped showing up. The smile was there but it looked sort of faded. You weren’t by side as much until you were avoiding him, telling him that you were busy. 

You died.

You killed yourself.

You were at peace now. 

“Please...”

The wind rustles the nearby trees, it’s not cold out. In fact, the breeze was comforting in the warm day, summer was ending and autumn was starting to come about. Autumn had always been your favourite season, it was the season for staying in and the cold weather starting to nip at your nose. It’s an excuse to wear jumpers and have hot coffee.

“Please, take me back to the night we met.”

Jughead trembles, he’s on his knees as he stares at your headstone. It’s clean and fresh among those that have been forgotten over the years. Jughead doesn’t think a slab of stone fits you well, it’s just not you.

Your life could never be marked by a gravestone, something so cold and immobile. Perhaps a tree with a wind-chime in the branches could do you more justice, or a simple song sung into the wind. What lies in the ground is only flesh and blood, that's never what you were. 

You were quite honestly the most beautiful spirit Jughead has ever known. he prays that you soar with the eagles on lofty breezes and swim in oceans deep; he prays that you know the freedom this life could never give you, yet most of all he prays that when his time comes it is you that takes him by the hand and you go onwards to better times together.

There are flowers for you, some that were there since you were buried, some that were new. But, your grave was never short of flowers. 

“I would have done anything for them-”

“-Except save them,” Archie says behind him.

A reared as if he had been slapped. Jughead swallowed hard, eyes wide and startled before their gaze shuttered. “You have no fucking idea,” He whips around to tackle the redhead, “You don’t know (Y/n), you don’t know him like I know him. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Juggie,” FP says softly, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, “(Y/n) wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Archie whispered, he knows he overstepped the line - it’s a shock really, your death was sudden.

“I failed him,” Jughead says, it’s a struggle for him because he’s holding back tears, “I keep seeing his face and I can’t help think I’ve failed him.”

Guilt, too much of it. 

Regret, and you were right - there are a lot of unsaid things in the air and he regrets not telling you.

“I love him.”

“He loves you too,” FP says, making Jughead look him in the eyes, “There is not a bone in (Y/n) that tells you, you were ever at fault - okay? He doesn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Going home was an empty feeling in Jughead, FP knows it will take a while for Jughead to bounce back to himself. School seems to empty without you, there isn’t someone there to wait for him at his locker; instead, there’s candles and flowers at yours. Jughead goes to sleep with the papers of your unfinished story, he goes to sleep in your sweaters.

He keeps a picture of you, always on himself. One night he stares at you, it’s been two weeks since you were buried. Your relationship with him hadn’t lasted long, three months - not once he had uttered the three words as you did to him.

“I love you,” Jughead whispers to the picture of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?” Your voice questions him, he knows you’re not there, but can’t help himself to imagine you by his side.

“I was scared.”

There was silence, “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

He can’t imagine how terrified you were, in your last moments of breathing. He doesn’t want to imagine it, yet sometimes it keeps him up at night. 

“Make my story ending a good one, will you?” Your voice says, there’s a tone of happiness for a second.

“I don’t know how to end it,” Jughead admits, “It wasn’t supposed to end so soon.”

“Tell them I was brave for finding peace,” Your voice softly begs, “Please, that’s how I want it to end.”

Jughead stays silent before nodding to himself; he knows he’ll be haunted by the ghost of you. But, that’s a request he can do for you - your one last wish.

“Okay,” He whispers.

Maybe, just maybe, you found peace in his word.

[whirlybirdwhat]

from one dead man to another (the world is changing)

Skyjacks x One Piece Crossover - Read on Ao3 for better quality!

*shows up out of month?? month absence to post niche crossover fic*

@oceanaromantic finished it!!

-------------

Summary:

On the deck of a flying ship, one dead man (a skeleton, really, from an era long past) talks to another over a laying of cards.

(Freedom has always been a crown, no matter if ships sail on land or sea, and Orimar Vale has always reached for things bigger than himself. Brook just wants some company, for once.)

---------------

Brook has almost never quite seen a man like this before. He is like him, but not in the ways that matter. (Not in the ways of flesh and bone and the lack thereof.) Yet.... there is a gleam to his eyes that Brook will never have again.

(Not that he has eyes… skull joke!)

Brook strums his guitar, an old thing from an era long past and fallen, and laughs.

“Yohohoho! It is a pleasure meeting you, dear sir.”  The bones of his face shift into a smile, gleaming white, with an aura of things not quite from this world (not anymore.)

(This world is not his anymore.)

Still, despite the walking, talking skeleton, the man across from Brook does nothing but shuffle a pack of cards.

“My name is Brook, though long ago I went by many titles. And Oh! What a time that was. I’m sure you, of course, have tales from before.” Brook tilts his skull back as he looks at the captain.

The captain.

Not his captain, of course (there will never be another– Brook has only ever had two, and the last one would be his until the end of eternity.

He is loyal, and no man should forget where is loyalty lies.)

But it is important to recognize the power and confidence of the man before him, a presence that could only belong to a captain. So -

The Captain it is, who continues in his task, ignoring the eyes of a dead man.

(Which one?)

The cards in the man’s hands are being played across the table now, flipped over one by one to reveal pictures of grace and beauty.

Of danger and threats.

The Forest Queen.

The Island.

The Maiden

“How many ships have you conquered, do you know? Conquests taken, lovers kept and hearts broken? Did you free people or take them?”

He’s a captain of course, a powerful one, which means he must have done this in some form, even if on accident. This is one of the truths of the world that Brook has long since etched into his nonexistent heart. People like them… they do not live life calmly.

More cards. The captain across from him waves his fingers across the designs on them, hands calloused with the marks of a pirate, a sailor, though the seas are not troubled by anyone now, for the most part.

(Often, Brook wishes they did.)

(Perhaps he would have more company then. A few more memories to play around in his mind.)

The Children.

The Soldiers.

The River.

“My crew, my beloved friends, they did it all! I hope, where ever they are they are continuing to do so – chasing dreams across endless waters and freeing countries from tyrants and gods.” The captain does not acknowledge the odd lilt – something like a breaking, a shattering – in Brook’s voice

The breeze from the sky rushes against their cheeks – that is, if Brook had any. Skull joke! The skeleton smiles at the wind as the tune from his instrument wavers across the sky. The man across from him, again, does not react to the wind or the sky or the sun. This table that they sit at, this duel between souls, is on the deck of some ship, but the captain does not seem to care.

Seem is the key word, for Brook knows souls and he knows this man.

He loves the sea and open air and sky. He loves freedom, if freedom has changed from water to air now. Freedom is still a crown, after all.

The captain is smiling, if his face does not show it.

Ringed hands place three more cards down.

The Union.

The Loom.

The Perfect Crime.

“My captain, my King, did both you know. Free people and take them, all at once. He was so selfish, so foolish, so brave. He took me from the fog and brought me too the light, and never told me that I would be his forever more. Funny that, that with his freedom came power and chains of love.”

The captain sits back now, shuffling the remaining cards once more. There are jewels in his hair and jewels decorating his neck, his coat like a louder, more imposing version of Brook’s own Captain’s coat. Red, and burning and bold – a captain in spirit and force and presence.

Brook does not know much about this man sitting before him. A captain, perhaps, a dueler maybe. A man who wants to be king, most definitely, and a player for sure.

But his soul? Brook does not want to say for certain, for all that it rings for love of the sky, but he things this is the kind of man his captain would have liked.

He’s certainly tall enough, towering as he is, and the confidence in which he lays these cards out is one Brook finds rarer these days, when one is not gambling.

“Do you like your crew, good sir? You seem the sort too. All good captains do.” Brook’s skeletal fingers pause on the strings of his guitar as he stares at Luminaries on the table. He’s played before, who hasn’t in this world of seasons and sky? A gamble was a gamble and a life was a life. Brook had neither money nor life but he did have a siren song, and a good game was a good way to past the time.

In bars, performing on a stage where not everyone screamed his name (Soul King! Soul King! Was a cheer he heard before but nowhere near as treasured as Brook! Brook! From dear friend’s voices) he had seen many a man and woman and person lose their way to the game. Only stupid sailors walked into a game expecting to win without loss.

The captain is not a stupid man, but expects to win nonetheless.

But they are not playing on this empty, floating ship deck.

They are merely talking, existing.

One dead man to another.

Brook looks at the cards.

“A reading of man, aye? Of the future or the past? I have already lived longer than most, longer alone than with company, but you learn to treasure moments spent together. And fate, dear captain sir, has no bearing on my life.”

The captain raises an eyebrow, the first expression he has given thus far. Brook takes pride in it.

“Yohohoho! It’s true!”

Luminaries, spread out upon a table, with no board or setting or anything of the sort, is an art that few know now. Brook was there for the birth of these Luminaries, and he was there for their rise and their not quite fall.  This is a game he knows well.

The Luminaries dictate a life lived or a life to live.

Brook has been given the gift of life and ordered by his Captain, his beloved Captain, King, Lord, Savior, to keep living until the natural end.  

Brook will never mutiny, and thus, the Luminaries can only show what he has already lived for Brook has almost quite lived it all.  There is nothing new the Luminaries can tell, nothing that Brook doesn’t know is already coming.

And what use is there to know? The end of the story takes away the fun of living after all, yohohoho! His captain, not this captain, had made sure to teach him that.

The captain before him is on his second life, but Brook will leave it to him to figure out the truth of a life twice lived.

Strings of the divine pull at him as he begins to strum again, a familiar tune filling the air.  

“Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho, Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho – Oh, I don’t suppose anyone knows lyrics to that one these days. Shame – it is my favorite! Though I suppose I could play something more fitting to the mood, dear captain sir?”

The captain nods his head, short and simple, looking out over the clouds as Brook readies a different tune. One more familiar to the skies than the sea.

Funny, how the world changes. Brook had sailed in the sky before, to islands made of cloud and beautiful sights, on a ship fit for a king, but nothing quite like this.

Sustained flight – oh how his crew would marvel!

The captain stares pensively at his cards as Brook hums the song in tune with his guitar.

“Health to the strangers who've ever been kind, And once for our friends ne'er to rise…”

In the sky there are no dangers for devil fruit users that would not kill any other.

In the sky, Brook has learned more truths than not, stories of the second fall and the truths behind the devils that lurk in his chest.

There is a church of a slain god now.

Do they know that before, men (a man, a king) dueled with gods instead of worrying himself with mortal affairs? Do they know of the bones that lie on the moon, and the beast that dwell in the deep? The ruins of a kingdom long fallen at the bottom of the ocean and the countries above the ships where even the loftiest air ships could never reach?

Brook knows they do not know, but still, he wonders.

(What if what if what if – what if he was not alone?)

“Ah, good captain sir. Tis a marvelous day. I hope you find joy in it.” He’s lost his train of thought. It’s common, now, in some nine hundred perhaps thousand years of life.

Truly, though, he’s no worse than when he was in the fog. At least this time he can go where he pleases, and feel the sun shine so warmly on his sea bleached bones.

The captain takes back the cards he splayed out for Brook and reaches into his coat pocket. A card, slender and gleaming, of much better quality than the rest, is held between his ringed fingers.  The card is slipped into the Illimat deck and quickly hidden but –

Brook knows better.

He watches, fingers still moving on the guitar, as none other than Orimar Vale, the man with the smile of the devil, picks his own fortune.

There is only a single card chosen this time. Orimar Vale is in his second life, yes, but his first ended too early for a man of his persuasion. He has much to live for – much to dream for, Brook hopes (knows.)

The wind blows.

The sun shines brighter.

The flag of the Uhuru flies in the wind, jolly roger gleaming proud in the sky.

The captain, the ‘Devil’s Grin’, places a card upon the table between them.

A smile curls Brook’s bony face.

The Straw Hat.

(The mark of the Second Pirate King shall never be forgotten.

Brook had made sure of that in the creation of the Illimat, even if only the worthiest of sailors knew. A man dies when he is forgotten, and his captain will never die.)

This deck’s straw hat is wreathed in gold, shimmering in the light. The red band around it is vibrant, like slashes of blood on golden jewels, and it is a sort of fitting ruthless in the open air that makes Brook wish to sing. As it is, Brook looks at the way the hat is tilted like a crown and the way a crescent design beneath it slopes like a familiar scar.

(Now, people say that design is tradition, a tribute to some moon or star or other pattern. In reality, it is just the face of his captain, captured imperfectly on paper. A pity, really, but Brook will take it.)

“A king, aye? A worthy goal, dear captain sir. Do you have what it takes? Do you have the Will of Kings, the Will to reach for freedom?” Brook asks, meeting a dead man’s eyes with empty sockets at last. A grin forms brighter then, a smile curving lips of bone and flesh alike.

The captain winks.

“Yohohoho!”

Orimar Vale is not a successor, and never will be. The throne of Monkey D. Luffy will never be over thrown, of that, Brook is sure.

But – to have someone to challenge the seas, the skies, to take what he sees as his, with his beloved crew at his side? To have someone be bold and daring and unchanging again – to have the will of conquerors and kings that are from an era long past, beating again in time with the waves of the crashing sea?

That is a challenger.

Brook will gladly see him fight.

(Win.)

Something solid settles on his chest, and it feels a little like hope again.

(A little like freedom.)

“Then, dear sir, I will be taking my leave.” Brook has his answer to his unasked question. It wasn’t something he expected to find when venturing upward to some strange, divine pull, but it is welcome all the same.

Orimar is dead, but so is Brook. Neither of them are forgotten however, and the sea does not let hers go quietly. The sky is the same.

“I do hope you succeed, dear sir, and I will be watching. You love your crew, don’t you? The Uhuru is a place for the lost and the lonely. Perhaps soon I will join your ranks – though not as a crew member I can assure you that.” Brook chuckles at this, collecting his violin and placing his cane over his wrist. “It’s been so long, dear sir, since I have been part of a crew.”

To their left is a commotion, a crashing of crates and the shouts of chaos.

“Ga-Gable! Do, do, do not rush in so brash!”

“Dref. There is something aboard this ship – something that should not be here – and it’s not the fucking captain! What do you expect me to do?”

“Relax?”

“Travis, I don’t think you should be telling that to Gable.”

“Oh hush, Jonnit – wait, did you hear that?”

The deck had cleared out when Brook had stepped onto the Uhuru. He was no conqueror, but his soul was powerful. He could influence those when he wanted to.

But an angel – oh, and a seer? A changeling? Oh, those were mighty souls indeed, some he had not seen the likes of for centuries.

(Yes, Orimar is most definitely like his captain, to be able to pluck the strongest, most unsuspecting people and trap them into the most selfish loyalty one could have. The strong gravitate to him, people from unlikely paths, and somehow, Orimar does not seem to care – but only seems to love.

Just like the pirate king indeed.)

However, unlike the necromancer, Brook has no real urge to mess with the warriors of the divine at this moment. They were simply not fun, always trying to smite him when he smiled at them in the most kindly of fashions.

Orimar does not look behind him as the scolding draws closer, only watches calmly as Brook jumps onto the railing, steps feather light, like the breeze could blow him over at any moment. “Take care of them, won’t you, dear captain? Friends are the most cherished type of freedom.”

Orimar nods.

“Then, Farewell! Till we meet again!”

And as the captain’s inner circle rounds the bend of the ship, Brook steps off the ship a thousand yards above the sea, and falls into the open air.

Behind him on a lonesome sky ship bursts of confusion echo, but Brook only laughs as he falls and falls and falls, into the embrace of the sea.

And all Orimar does, when Dref murmurs about him and plucks the Straw Hat card from his hands, is winks.

Yohohoho!

[plainvanillapotato]

Quarantine diaries: its still may 22 2020.

Continuation of my “the 100 diaries” cuz y’all asked for it

Season 1. Ep. 2 Earth Skills

These kids sure have some stamina for people who have been stuck on a space blob all of their life. Ok wait imagine if instead of all these super attractive and fit actors we got the space people from wall-E who barely walk to save their lives. Now that is realistic.

Some bones. Mystery. Intrigue. Clearly not a human skull tho.

*hears jasper screaming* yes lets run toward the danger. I know I know be the hero and save the guy but if we’re living by the “do whatever the hell we want” rule then you bet your ass that I’m not gonna be the hero

Also how did jasper not die cuz really it looked like an instant kill

Side note: I’ve just realized where I recognize Clarke’s mom. She’s that aunt in the game plan.

Thelonious… really? These character names are all over the place. I mean you have regular names like Finn and Abby but then you jump to thelonious and Bellamy?! But who am I to judge? I live in a universe where Elon Musk's kid is named X Æ A-12.

Aww wells...such a nice guy! Did he really just bury those two people all by himself? Like no one else saw him and didn’t offer to help him. But I guess as these are some angsty teens who only care about themselves

Wait...wells also stripped them of their clothes kinda gross but you gotta do what you gotta do

Wow first appearance of a shirtless Bellamy. He’s hot

So I really don’t like this Murphy character. It does not help that the jacket that his wearing, the shoulder pad looks like one of those spiky balls I used to play with as a kid. Ill insert some images to prove this. Like I swear to god I bet that the costume design people straight up cut one of them spiky balls and just slapped that on the jacket

Lol I was really worried there for a moment thinking that Bellamy would actually stop that fight between wells and Murphy. Bellamy is chaotic neutral/evil giving wells a knife for a fair fight

Grounders. I wonder if they had a discussion on what they should call the people that survived on earth cuz i feel like there’s a better name for them but idk what. Also does that mean that the 100 and the ark people are called ‘spacers’

Clarke is being very anal about these wristbands like I understand her reasoning but it’s annoying me rn

This show shows more politics than I thought it would. It’s interesting how the kids take on the traits and characteristic of their parents

Wooow this show is really going with the smart Asian stereotype. Like you’re literally keeping Monty from saving his best friend because his brain is too valuable. please tell me there is more to monty than his brains

Clarke really be out here negging Finn AND Bellamy into a suicide mission to find jasper

Also I find it fascinating that one of the main reasons that Bellamy is the leader of these spacers is because he has a gun. Is this supposed to be reflective of real life?

I watch this show with subtitles on and… they spell Adam as ATOM. Like what? I literally had to look it up on IMDb to see if that was an error but nope it wasn’t

Bellamy is a very possessive big brother. Like I know its out of love but its a bit much and kinda anti-feminist like he treats octavia like a doll

Who is this raven character cuz i really don’t be needing another subplot

“Lockup has been quarantined. There’s some kind of a virus” …. CORONAVIRUS?! Is this show the parallel universe everyone is talking about

For a girl who had very limited social interaction, octavia is very confident flirting. Like for real, she flirts with boys better than I do. Possible the most unrealistic part of the show so far

Are they really setting up a thing between Clarke and Finn like keep it in your pants guys? It’s been like 2 days.  Fuck they are making finn and Clarke a thing. And i bet its that troupe where he’s a free spirit and she’s all uptight and he teaches her how to let loose

Also back to my Star Wars parallel, I think I’ve figured it out. Clarke is Rey. Wells is Finn (the guy friend that loves the main girl but she only sees him as a friend). Finn is Poe (the careless fun guy that contrasts the oh so serious main girl). And Bellamy is Kylo ren (the ‘antagonist’ that actually has a heart). Like guys the friend zone relationship between wells and Clarke is VERY finn and Rey like. Then there’s this scene where it seems like Bellamy is trying to turn wells against finn almost like kylo ren trying to turn someone to the dark side. i know rn its finn and clarke but there are strong reylo vibez between bellamy and clarke 

Now there’s atom and octavia jesus this girl moves faster through boys than i have in my entire life but i guess since she lived under the floor for much of her life she has a lot to make up for.

I find it very American who these spacers think that because they have a gun that they are safe.

They really put jasper, titties out, up there in a tree

You know how Bellamy said that he would do anything to get clarke’s wristband even if that means cutting off her hand so that the arc doesn’t come down….he really could have just let her die when she fell into that pit. But I get it plot and to show that Bellamy isn’t all evil. Also very intense eye contact between Clarke and Bellamy.

So this council meeting...ngl i kinda side with Kane especially with that violent table slap

Yess wells you kill that mutant animal thingy. The “now she sees you” yeah Bellamy no shit. Ofc Clarke is gonna notice wells shooting and killing that animal right in front of her. 

Are they really gonna eat that radioactive animal????? I’m serious when i say i want to straight up vomit thinking about eating that. Guess that its a good thing that i don’t live in this universe. Side note it looks like one of those mutant beast that was in the first hunger games movie.

Oh fuck...raven is finn’s girlfriend. Ofc she is

The scene where finn takes the food without cutting off his wristband and Murphy is like no you ain’t special but then finn is like “i thought there were no rules” cut to Murphy’s face is just like “but he’s got a point tho” then finn just walks off with the music blaring like that was the most badass thing ever (the time stamp for this scene is 39:39)….this show is too much

Bellamy really hung atom for kissing his sister…..no just no this is no okay but I’m kind of too invested to stop watching

Oooo a grounder. Does that mask have any functional purposes? Or like is it purely for intimidation

this was murphy’s face when Finn said that there were no rules. 

[ragequitthatshit]

down in flames : sweet pea x reader (chapter 1)

(gif not mine)

Fandom: Riverdale (season 3)

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Andrews!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, underage drinking, mention of attempted rape (in a later chapter which can be skipped), angst, gross fluff 

Summary: On his first day of elementary school, one of the bigger kids had pushed Archie to the floor and skinned his knee. You had promised then and there you would protect your brother from everyone and everything in this world.

Now in high school, your main concern should have been that the boy you liked was sleeping with someone else. Instead, you were researching how to cover up a murder and discovering the use of alcohol as a coping method.

Riverdale wasn't safe for anyone these days.

You knew Archie was scared. You knew he felt guilty. You knew he just wanted this all to be over. You didn’t know he’d plead guilty and take the deal of two years in juvenile detention.

The shock you felt jolt through your body left you reeling, bolting from your chair in a reflex to protect, but there was nothing you could do. Next to you, Sweet Pea clasped your wrist and gently tugged you back into your seat. Clinging to him, you absentmindedly noted that you were digging your nails into his exposed forearm, but you were too busy trying to breathe to stop yourself. 

Archie looked accepting, resigned to his fate, but it was the look on your dad’s face that broke your heart. As Archie was led away in handcuffs, he spared you a tight smile that you couldn’t return, tears dripping from your eyes instead. Leaving Betty to console a distraught Veronica, you rushed to your dad, throwing your arms around his waist and burying your face into his shoulder as he clung on to you just as tightly. 

Much later that night, you found yourself sat in a booth right at the back of Pop’s with Betty, Jughead and Veronica. None of you spoke, merely picking at your food and milkshakes, lost in your own thoughts.

It was a strange feeling, like it wasn’t really happening. This was Archie, who got in trouble in elementary school for fighting bullies on behalf of the smaller kids. Archie who protected his family and his friends with everything in him. Archie who loved pancakes and hated mushrooms and wore odd socks - your little brother. It didn’t matter that there was barely 10 minutes difference in age, you still insisted you were elder. 

You were polar opposites in some ways - Archie was reckless where you were methodical, easily manipulated where you had trouble trusting anyone. He could be stupid sometimes, making rash decisions like starting the red circle or chasing after gunmen, but he was good at heart, and there was no way in hell he could ever kill someone. 

And now he was locked up in a place with a bad reputation and you hoped to god that if nothing else, the serpent tattoo would grant him some reprise - he’d need comrades in there even if he wouldn’t have friends. 

You kept opening your mouth to speak, uncomfortable with the silence, but what were you supposed to say? 

Luckily, you were saved by the ring of the bell as the front door was pushed open. In walked a crowd of leather, and you jumped up to greet them. 

Toni was the first to rush forward and hug you, followed by Cheryl and Fangs. They joined the group in the booth as Sweet Pea analysed you with his dark eyes before pulling you into his chest. The familiar smell of leather and smoke was comforting, and you clutched to his jacket for a moment to ground yourself. 

When you stepped back, you quickly wiped at your eyes to rid yourself of any tears and tried to smile up at the boy. He looked concerned, and you knew that your pathetic attempt at fooling him into thinking you were ok wouldn’t work. Still, when he asked if you were alright, you nodded and turned quickly to squash back into the now-crowded booth. Sweet Pea took a seat by your side, leg pressed against yours, and arm draped over the booth behind you. Over the course of the next hour, as the group swapped back and forth between discussing pointless subjects and possible plans to clear Archie’s name or break him out, the warmth of Sweet Pea kept you grounded, and you both pretended not to notice when his phone lit up with Josie’s name several times, instead he turned the device face-down and moved somehow even closer. 

You couldn’t even find it in you to feel guilty.

Despite your dad’s hesitation, you decided to go back to school with the others. It was funny in a sad sort of way that you usually looked for any excuse not to have to go, and then when you had one, you didn’t want it. You just couldn’t stand another day at home. It was so empty and quiet, just you and Vegas, who’d taken to lying on the floor of Archie’s room and whining. 

School wasn’t much better though with all the looks, the whispers. At first it upset you, but a couple of hours in and it was rapidly pissing you the hell off. The second the bell rang for free period, you stormed through the hallways, earphones in and scowling as you threw yourself down into a chair in the corner of the student lounge. Everyone kept their distance, casting glances at your furious scribbling before quickly retreating. Eventually, the bell rang again for lunch and you knew your peace was going to soon be disrupted as people streamed into the room. Mere minutes later, you felt someone looming over you, and quickly grabbed the hand that crept into your peripheral. 

“If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs.”

Sweet Pea merely laughed and leant against the desk you were hunched over, Fangs by his side flipping through the text book you’d been taking notes from. Knowing it was hopeless, you rolled your eyes to the ceiling before fixing them both with a glare.

“I’m trying to work, what do you two idiots want?”

“For you to pull the stick out of your ass and come sit with us,” Sweet Pea replied with an easy smirk, Fangs snorting in amusement as he passed you your book back. Your glare quickly shot to the shorter boy, who adopted an innocent look and held his hands in the air.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t say it!”

Huffing, you stood and shoved your belongings back into your bag.

“Drop dead, Fogarty.”

You spun on your heel and headed for the couches to squish into an armchair with Kevin, ignoring the indignant splutter and deep laughter of the boys behind you. Immediately after you sat down, Veronica leant towards you with her usual determined look. 

“So, this football game that Archie’s planning for the juvie boys, what do you think? Want to come and cheer him on with us?” Noting your arched brow of confusion, she elaborated. “Archiekins was saying that the guys in there needed a pep rally more than most, so what better way to raise their spirits than with a good show? The Vixens are practicing the routine tonight ready for Thursday. Join us?”

You wrinkled your nose and gave Veronica a weird look as she waited for your answer.

“Are you asking me to dance like a slut in front of my twin?”

As everyone else laughed, Veronica gave you an unimpressed look at the teasing smile on your face.

“Ok, ok, I’ll take that as a no.”

Grinning, you turned your eyes to Fangs.

“I know someone else who would look great in a mini skirt though.”

Never one to turn down a bet, it wasn’t long before things had escalated and Fangs decided to don one of the cheer uniforms and run around the school in it. His conclusion that he enjoyed the freedom and the breeze that came from a skirt kept you giggling the rest of the day.

Archie was a week into juvie, and already he looked like shit. He was pale and tired, and as a Serpent you had enough experience with fighting to know that he couldn’t sit normally because he was bruised as hell. Concern flooded your face, and you spared the guard a quick look before leaning closer to your brother.

“Arch, who did this?”

Archie looked around them, noting the other prisoners who sat close enough to hear all seemed to be too busy to listen. He turned back around, staring down at his hands instead of you.

“It-” he started, only to quickly close his mouth and shake his head, “it doesn’t matter.”

Glaring at him, you ground out his name in a warning tone. Knowing you weren’t going to drop it, he sighed heavily and leaned in close. 

“Ghoulies,” he mumbled, only meeting your eyes for a second as thunder thrummed in your bones.

“Those fucking sons of bitches!” you spat, hands balling into fists. “What about the Serpents, are they protecting you?”

Archie opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get a chance as yells rang out, an inmate and their guest throwing punches at one another across the room. The inmates were herded to the far wall as the guards called for the end of visits, ushering you and the other visitors towards the exit. A quick hug and a demand that he stay safe, and you were all but shoved out of the room. You were furious as you began the drive home, hands clenching the steering wheel so tight you stopped being able to fully feel your fingers. 

The Ghoulies had been a problem ever since you’d joined the Serpents, and you had always hated them. Now that they were after your brother? No way were you about to let that slide.

Instead of going home, you’d gone straight to Jughead with an intense need to rant before you exploded. With an agreement that something had to be done, you decided to brainstorm possible ideas the next day after school, and you left the trailer slightly calmer than you had arrived. 

Nothing ever got to be done regarding the juvie situation, as three weeks then went by without anyone being able to see Archie. You and your dad were angry and fearful, unaware of what was happening to him. The Warden’s claims of Archie starting a riot were bullshit, and you all knew it. You were curled up on the sofa watching Game of Thrones reruns as your dad met with his lawyer when your phone buzzed with a call from Veronica.

Intrigued, you quickly answered, and as soon as you heard the name Penny, you were stuffing on your jacket and trainers with the promise you’d be at the speakeasy in 10. Once there, Veronica quickly explained Penny’s offer of protection and the following shipment of Jingle Jangle, as well as her belief that her father was behind it, and her, Cheryl and Toni’s  storming of the drug lab at the Whyte Worm. 

“So you blackmailed your father into backing off, what do you need from me?”

Veronica fixed you with a smile, rounding the bar to hand you a glossy card invitation.

“To come to opening night. Not only do you have to be there as a friend, but also I have a feeling Penny might come sniffing around with threats - we both know she isn’t what you’d call loyal and I wouldn’t put it past her to try and pull something.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you stared at the card in your hand, raising your gaze to meet Veronica with a sly smile.

“I need to speak to her about a Ghoulie infestation anyway. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent! Then there’s just one more thing,” Veronica smiled widely, casting a raised eyebrow at your scuffed trainers and ripped jeans. “Wear a dress.”

That night, La Bonne Nuit was packed out with the younger residents of Riverdale. Josie was singing, drinks were flowing, and everyone was dressed to suit the 20s decor. A black cocktail dress and heels had you fitting in nicely, and you were feeling pretty good as you spent the evening laughing with friends. 

You stayed on alert though, keeping an eye out for Penny or Ghoulies sent to cause trouble. Sweet Pea, Fangs and Jughead were doing the same, keeping a watch on the entryway as they mingled. You were sat in a booth chatting to Betty when you felt eyes on you. A quick glance over the blondes shoulder and you caught Sweet Pea turning back to Fangs to whisper something. They seemed to be having a heated discussion, some stupid disagreement knowing them, but as you carried on talking to Betty you realised that as they talked, the boys swapped between looking at you and looking at Josie. 

You shook off the weirdness, getting lost in anecdotes as more people came to join you, until a hand on your shoulder had you looking up to meet Veronica’s steely gaze. Excusing yourself, with a quick reassurance to Betty that everything was fine, you let Veronica pull you by the hand through the crowd to the bar. There, Reggie looked pissed as he hung up the phone, and you looked at him expectantly.

“Penny’s just pulled up outside and I’m gonna guess she ain’t here for a burger.”

Sighing, you gave Reggie a nod, and beckoned for Veronica to follow you upstairs. On your way, you caught the questioning stare of Sweet Pea, and you cocked your thumb at Reggie in answer. He could explain, you needed to move. Steeling your expression into your ‘I know i’m short but im actually a tough gang member’ face, you pushed past the queue of people still waiting to get into the speakeasy and stalked outside to the car park. 

Illuminated by the light of the diner, Penny leant against her car, her cocky smirk instantly irritating you. Veronica stuck close by your side and, as you’d done several times before, you admired her tenacity. Still, she was out of her element, more used to the organised turn-taking style of mob business rather than the rough and tumble gang fights, so your priority was ensuring she got out of this unscathed. 

“What are you doing here, Penny? I thought I told you that your services were not required, as much as I appreciate the offer.”

Penny snorted at Veronica’s steady words, choosing not to heed the warning and instead pushed off the car and began to stroll towards the two of you. Despite her casual pace and crossed arms, you took a step forward to keep some distance between her and the girl behind you, wary of her intentions. 

Noticing your movement, Penny smiled sickly and stopped in her tracks, narrowed eyes watching you with a dangerous glint.

“My, my, Lodge, you sure are a lucky girl,” the blonde began in a mocking tone, “you always seem to have a little Andrews guard dog yapping around your heels.”

Not in the mood for Penny and her games, your fingers reached for the pocket that wasn’t there, then clenched into fists, teeth gritted as you realised your knife was in your jacket pocket, which was still in the cloakroom.

“Listen, bitch, you’re not welcome here, so get the hell out. Veronica and her speakeasy are protected by the Serpents, so go do your dirty business elsewhere.” 

Your sharp tone and pissed off expression seemed to rile up the older woman, and she took a step closer to square up to you.

“Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what to do, ok little girl? I could 

you with my pinkie. So how about you and the princess here show me some respect before I have one of my guys on the inside slit your brothers throat.”

You barely heard Veronica’s gasp or the bell above the door signalling someone exiting Pop’s over the rushing of blood in your ears. You didn’t feel yourself move, just felt a wave of total fury before your fist collided with Penny’s cheek. The blonde went sprawling onto the tarmac as you glared down at her, pain shooting up your arm and you learn down to grab the lapels of her jacket and tug her up to a half sitting position so you were face to face. 

“Go anywhere near my brother,” you whispered menacingly, “and you’re fucking dead.” 

Roughly releasing your grip, you stood and backed away as Penny pulled herself up from the ground, laughing as she wiped the trickle of blood from her mouth. 

“Oh, you have no 

what you’re messing with, but I promise you now, I’m gonna kill your bro with my bare hands.” 

You lunged forward, barely making it a step before strong arms pulled you back. Despite the vice grip of leather sleeves and tattooed hands, you still tried to fight free and get to Penny, all the emotions that had been building up for weeks begging to be set free. Either side of you, the Serpents appeared, Fangs half in front of you in a protective stance, and Jughead slouching cockily on your right. 

“You’re outnumbered, Penny, take the advice and get the hell out of here,” ordered the Serpent King, staring her down.

Penny didn’t respond at first, letting her eyes drift over the small group. Finally, with a cheery goodbye, and a smirk that spelled trouble directed at you, she stalked back to her car and made a speedy exit. You watched the lights disappear around the corner in silence, muscles going slack as Sweet Pea relaxed his grip on you. 

Everyone stayed quiet, and you took a few staggered breaths to try and release the adrenaline coursing through you. When you felt sufficiently calmer, you eased Sweet Pea’s hand off of your waist, squeezing his fingers quickly to quell the hard frown he was currently staring you down with. You turned to the others with a quick thank you, flexing your fingers experimentally to make sure you hadn’t damaged anything on Penny’s stupid smug face. You knew they were all staring at you, waiting for you to explode in anger from Penny’s words, and you couldn’t blame them. You had a notoriously short temper, and the strange calm you felt surprised even you. With one last look at the dots of blood on the ground, you avoided the gazes of your friends, striding straight past to head back inside and get a seriously strong drink. 

Exchanging concerned glances, the rest shortly followed, and spent the night on edge as they waited for you to snap.

Instead of snapping, you got wasted. 

It seemed to work, as you were no longer angry - you were stumbling around laughing your ass off instead. Despite the initial worry over your choice of distraction, everyone else had shortly started to drink with you in solidarity, which led to the Serpents and their Northside buddies crashing out of the front door of Pop’s and spilling into the car park way past closing time.

Cheryl and Toni were flirting, Sweet Pea, Jughead and Fangs were play fighting, and you had your arms linked with Kevin and Betty as you slurred through Mean Girls quotes in a competition of who knew the film best. At the corner you split ways to head home, leaving you with Jug, Betty and Sweet Pea. The couple quickly cosied up together, whispering, while you dropped back a few paces to link arms with Sweet Pea. Heaving a contented sigh, you lent your head right back to look up at the stars, and if you weren’t hanging on to the boy next to you for support, you’d be on your ass. 

“You know you live in the opposite direction, right?”

Sweet Pea’s eyes quickly darted to you when you spoke, as if he had been deep in thought. Smiling, he steered you around a lamppost.

“You think I’m gonna trust you walking home alone right now?” You turned to him, opening your mouth but he shot a pointed look at the couple in front of you and beat you to it. “And no, they don’t count, they wouldn’t notice if I got naked and started doing the Single Ladies dance.” 

You laughed unabashedly, prompting another grin from the usually sullen Serpent. 

You walked most of the way in silence, bid goodbye to the loved-up couple outside of your house, and now stood on your porch. The night was quiet, the house dark, and luckily you had sobered up enough in the cool night air to keep your voice low. 

“Thanks for walking me home, Sweets. And thanks for having my back earlier. You’re always there when I need you.” 

His face was gentle, lit softly by the porch light as his eyes searched your face.

“And you’re always there for me. We look out for each other - that’s what friends do, right?”

You felt a stab in your gut at the word ‘friends’, and you took a half-step back as you realized how close the two of you were. 

“Well, still, Penny’s gonna be out of my blood now and you didn’t have to risk being pulled into it, so thank you.” 

You gave him a hug, throat going tight at the feeling of his arms around you. Pulling back with a cough, you gave him a smile and murmured goodnight before twisting around to unlock your door. Before you could disappear inside, Sweet Pea grasped your wrist, tugging you gently to look back at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t brush off my help and think I give a shit that sticking up for you could get me in trouble. I’ll protect you no matter what, even if it kills me, ok?”

You were stunned and speechless, stood gawping at him until it was his turn to mumble a farewell and stride down the pathway. Collecting yourself, you headed inside, and as you shut the door behind you, your eyes met Sweet Pea’s as he stood on the pavement in front of your house, waiting till you were safely inside before he left.

Leaning back against the cool wood of the front door, you slumped down onto the floor of your dark hallway, head in your hands.

“God, I’m so fucking screwed.”

[67midnightwriter]

Wait For Me

A/N: Hi. It’s been awhile. To say life has been crazy would be an insane understatement, but here we are. I set aside my writing for the better part of a year in order to focus on the important things, like staying alive, and getting put on the appropriate meds, and a general sense of betterment for myself, and for that I will not apologize. It’s a new year, however, with new goals, and one of those is to write more. I’m not promising it will happen as much as I want, but I am promising you that i’ll try. All of that being said, let’s move forth with this, shall we?

I started this with in intention of it being a quick little one-shot, and it turned into a medium sized one shot. My bad, kiddos. It was started in the beginning of October with the intention of being posted before Halloween, and yet here we are in January of an entirely different decade, and I just finished this an hour ago. Whoops again.

Basically, @impala-dreamer gets on these rants where she asks me to kill her, and this was bore from one of those moments. It fits nicely in the new season without spoilers, so never fear. I hope you enjoy, and as always, please reblog and feel free to flood my inbox with your rants, opinions, validations, and screaming, even if you hate it. Criticism is the best way to learn.

W/C: 2166

Angst, Death

Dean x Beka, Cas x Logan

It was a simple salt and burn, a run of the mill ghost hunt they had done time and time again, an errand to stretch their legs after weeks of research in the bunker.

“Halloween is next week.” Logan’s voice called out through the still night, drowning out the squelch of their boots on the damp ground.

“Yeah, so? You’re a little old for trick or treating.” Beka shone her flashlight over the gravestones, searching in vain for one name amongst thousands. They’d already been at it for a few hours, and the damp air was beginning to make her hands ache.

“Does that make this a festive family outing?”

Beka stopped and shone her flashlight on her friend’s face, simply to be greeted by the signature Cheshire cat grin she had expected to find. “You’re insane.”

“After everything we’ve been through, that’s the line of insanity?” Logan’s laugh rang out across the graveyard, pulling an unwilling smile to Beka’s lips.

“Come on, let’s get this over with. I’m freezing and I want a greasy cheeseburger. With bacon. And mushrooms.”

Static filled the air as Beka turned, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as the ghost they were hunting flickered into view before her, a large butcher knife glinting in the moonlight from its hand. She tried to swing the iron bar in her hand, but found herself frozen as the spirit closed in. She heard her name from her right, and from the edges of her vision she saw Logan launching herself from the top of a gravestone, a groan falling from her lips as her ankle buckled on the slick granite, lurching her towards the ghost. Her aim rang true, and the ghost disappeared as her fireplace poker slashed through its chest. She slammed shoulder first into a headstone as she fell, and Beka winced as Logan sat up on her knees, her back to Beka.

“You okay?”

“Can you get Cas for me?” Logan’s voice caused Beka’s heart to pound hard in her chest; it was soft, small and quiet, the voice she only used when she was terrified, stumbling into Beka’s room after a night terror. “I think I need his help.”

Beka caught her by the shoulders as she crumbled, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes were drawn to the deep red oozing from Logan’s chest, quickly soaking her shirt, spilling out from a jagged gash. She went into field dressing mode, pushing the edges of the already opened flannel out of her way and pushing Logan’s t-shirt up under her chin. She glanced over her shoulder and screamed for Cas, a sense of relief falling over her as he made his way out of a nearby crypt and began sprinting toward them.

The relief dissipated when she turned her attention back to Logan.

At first glance the wound seemed mostly superficial, but upon further inspection she noticed that she could see the edge of something, just below her ribcage, that seemed to be pulsating and oozing. Her face paled as she realized she was watching the bottom of her best friend’s heart beat. She screamed for Cas again as her hands began to shake, fear freezing in her veins and panic electrifying her skin. She pressed down on the wound, biting her lip at the squelch, wincing as the blood oozed hot and think between her fingers.

“H-how bad?” Logan’s voice was trembling, her face paling, her hands beginning to shake.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay. Just a scratch. Superficial.” Beka risked a glance back over her shoulder, adrenaline speeding her heart as Cas seemed impossibly far away.

“Promise?”

“Yeah kid, I promise. Maybe you could even talk Cas into leaving you a nice scar, it’ll be a great campfire story later.”

Beka tried not to think about the slowing heart beneath her palms, or how she could see her breath as she exhaled, or how the hair on the back of her neck was beginning to stand on end as the static once again gathered in the air. She risked a glance up, and saw the target spirit sprinting toward them, butcher knife raised.

She adjusted her position on the ground, putting herself between the ghost and her ailing friend, careful to maintain the pressure of her hands. She lifted her head to gaze at the spirit, rage flaring in her eyes; if she was going to die, she would meet death head on, the same way she faced the world.

Cas erupted onto the scene as a flash of beige in Beka’s peripheral vision, swinging a tire iron flaked with rust the way Beka imagined Babe Ruth swung a baseball bat. The ghost dissipated with an enraged howl, leaving Cas to turn towards the mutilation beneath her hands. Always in garrison leader mode, he was in action, his hands replacing hers and his gruff voice barking orders before Beka could fully process his presence.

“Salt circle. Now.”

Beka looked down, a shock induced sluggishness leaving her body with a physical jolt as she stared at a container of salt Castiel had placed in her hands without her even noticing. Her hands shook, both with intention and without, as she began forming a clumsy circle around the pair, allowing the soothing tones of Cas’s voice to lull her into a false sense of security.

“How bad?” Logan’s voice was now barely more than a gurgled whisper, and Beka knew that the ever paling face with bright blood stained lips would haunt her nightmares for years to come, even if they all made it out.

“Your artery has been severed from your heart.” There were many things Cas was, but tactful was not generally one of them.

“Superficial huh?”

Logan tried to scoff, and the wet coughing that replaced the attempt stole Beka’s attention away from the task at hand. She didn’t trust her tightening throat to allow words through, so she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, attempting to keep the pity out of the sorrow-filled smile on her face. Her friend's eyes widened, and years of companionship gifted her the ability to immediately see the danger in her eyes. Beka spun, coming face to face with their menacing, knife wielding foe.

Beka tried to do three things at once; complete the salt circle, step away, and flick the iron bar in her grasp through the spirit, and failed all three. In her haste to step back, she slipped on the blood-slickened grass, which caused her to lose her balance and fall backwards, thus skewing her salt circle line and rendering the circle incomplete. She threw her hands out in a vain attempt to catch herself, tossing her critical piece of iron off to twang against a distant headstone.

The spirit bore down on her, knife raised as though it was death’s scythe, eyes locking with hers. He opened his mouth and released a bone chilling cackle, but before he could deliver the finishing blow the cackle turned into a scream, and his translucent body went up in an orange burst of heatless flames.

Beka hadn’t even realized some of the blood dripping off the end of his knife had been hers until Castiel’s hand was wrapped around her throat, a rare desperate look blooming in his deep blue eyes.

“I think I got the son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice bellowed from a few rows away.

“Dean!”

The tone of Castiel’s cry brought Dean running. Beka’s train of thought began to feel loose, as though time was both speeding ahead without her, and standing still beside her. She wondered, momentarily, if she would even get to see his face again, as she felt the warm slickness of her blood pumping out from under Cas’s hand to join Logan’s on the grass beneath them.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” The word tumbled into the air like it was the only one Dean’s lips could form as he slid to his knees beside her.

“It’s okay Dean, I’m going to be okay.” Beka tried to calm him, but the sentence came out as a gargle. Hot copper replaced the cool flavor of mint in her mouth, and she fought the urge to cough, not wanting to know what her blood would look like splattered across Dean’s face.

She discovered regardless.

Dean’s hand replaced Castiel’s. Memories of the good times he had gripped her neck fought to take her away from the cold, damp night, but she resisted falling into them. She pretended not to see the tears filling Dean’s eyes as Castiel confessed he couldn’t heal them, his voice thickened by worry, sorrow and regret.

Beka forced as much spit and blood out of her mouth as she could without turning her head, blackness creeping all too quickly in on the edges of her vision. “Save her.” She murmured, as clear and loud as she could muster. “I’m ready.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, but was not quick enough to completely hide it’s quiver. He knew better than to argue, and nodded to acknowledge her choice. He bent to press his lips to hers, pouring every emotion he would never let pass his lips into their final kiss. Beka shut her eyes, content to just feel him for a moment, raising a hand to cup the sharp stubble on his cheeks, the bright blue of Castiel’s grace turning the darkness a deep red. She had accepted her death from the moment she had hit the ground, and was content to know that she had sacrificed herself to save the life of her dying friend, even if it wasn’t in the way she had imagined every time they stepped into the field.

Logan let out a gasp, pulling air into lungs that had been still too long with a ragged  wet sound. Beka opened her eyes as Dean pulled away, leaning into the touch of her palm. A cry left Cas, filled with exasperation, frustration, sorrow and defeat.

“I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I can’t. There’s nothing left. I only made it worse, I can’t-“

He broke off with another cry, and Beka tore her gaze from Dean in time to watch Logan lift her own trembling hand to Cas’s cheek, a knowing smile on her face as she tried to comfort the angel.

“Dean.” Beka could feel the cold creeping up her limbs as her tunnel of vision tightened, leaking out through the gaping wound in her neck. Green eyes found hers, searching her face for answers that would never be found. “I hated every stupid western.”

Dean barked a sharp, surprised laugh into the night, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. Logan grasped for the hand that was still on the ground, and Beka squeezed back, both of their grips weak.

“Wait for me.” She rasped, her eyes searching Beka’s. Beka smiled, turned her eyes back to Dean’s, and let go.

A tear slid down Logan’s face as the hand in hers fell limp. She turned back to Castiel, quieting his murmured apologies with a single uttering of his name.

“Thank you for trying.” Her chest burned, but her limbs were icy, and her eyelids were beginning to feel impossibly heavy. “Thank you for being safe all these years.” She coughed, and Castiel winced. She reached up and guided his lips to hers, pressing a soft kiss to them. “I’ll find you in the next.”

Castiel held her as she slipped quietly out of consciousness, every rise of her chest, no doubt an echo of the stubbornness she had carried throughout life, broke pieces of him he hadn’t yet realized existed. Part of him bitterly wished she would just be still, and he hated himself for it, because his lack of grace and inability to fully heal her was the reason she was slowly suffering, the reason Beka’s dying wish couldn’t be fulfilled, the reason they were failing, the reason the wellbeing of the world was slipping out of their grasp.

Finally, as the damp air turned into a steady cold drizzle, Logan was still.

The pyres had been nothing but piles of cold ash for three days, but fire still raged in Dean’s eyes. The door slammed shut behind Castiel, and he flinched at its sound, though he could not find regret in his decision no matter how deep he searched. The sound of Dean’s shouts still rang in his ears, his soul still stinging with the lashing from Dean’s tongue. Nothing Dean said was foreign to Castiel, but his words still deepened the wounds of failure. He walked toward his truck with a gait leadened by guilt, wishing more than anything for his wings back so he could try and fly away from this place, so he could have one more last chance, so he could win where it mattered the most. Castiel pointed the nose of his truck toward the open road, sharing the cab with ghosts.

Tags:

@impala-dreamer @sculptorofbeginnings @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-idjit-95 @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @missjenniferb @tumbler-tidbits @maddiepants @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield

[malereaderinsert]

Wildfire - Part One

Fandom: Game of Thrones.

Pairing: Jon Snow x Male Targaryen Reader

Warnings: I tried to get the most accurate translations for this chapter, but it`s not 100% perfect sorry. Italic words: Dothraki and High Valyrian. Bold Words: Translations.

Aside from that there are no warnings (I know, shocking).

Word Count: + 7.000

Summary: (Y/n) Targaryen, was separated from his twin sister Daenerys on birth for their own safety. He eventually found his way back to Westeros in search of his destiny. But, will his growing affection towards the Stark bastard get in the way? 

Set on the beginning of Season 07, but I plan on writing until the end of Season 08.

Sub: (Y/n) your name. (Y/D/N) your dragon’s name. (Y/D/C) your dragon’s color. There are no options for choosing your eye and hair color cause you know, pure blood Targeryen, so white hair and purple eyes it is.

-

“Dany, you're doing it again.” (Y/n) spoke after taking another bite from the apple in his hand. His sprawled limbs occupied the entire throne, that was rather uncomfortable since it was made of stone.

Daenerys’s only answer was to give her brother an eye roll while resuming her pacing in the throne room.

“Don't speak with your mouth full.” It was (y/n)'s turn to give his twin sister an eye roll that was considerably more dramatic than her's. “You know I can't sit still when I'm nervous brother.”

“I still don't know the motive of your unease, dear sister.” At that the woman stopped pacing and gave her brother an incredulous look. “We both know the white wolf needs our help. The people from the North can be quite headstrong and I heard this Jon “Snow” is rather stubborn too, but he needs something from us and we can use that in our favor.”

(Y/n) rose from the throne and started lazily walking towards Daenerys with a smirk. “And I heard whispers that he's still unmarried and is quite the charming.” The man knew his sister was in need of a distraction. All she could think about was the damned iron throne. She deserved the best and (Y/n) knew more about Jon than he was letting on.

The northerner was indeed headstrong and stubborn, but the way he fiercely defended his family and men was something you didn't see every day. That, certainly, made him a great man and an admirable leader.

“You know I'm not interested in romance.” (Y/n) knew his sister was clinging to her past, to the love that was taken from her and to the son she could never have. And seeing the mournful look in his sister's face made his heart ache.

“I'm sorry. I'm just trying to look out for my little sister, huh?” The male reached out and tucked a stubborn strand of white hair behind his sister's ear while giving her a teasing smile.

“You were born ten seconds before me, ten! There's barely any age difference between us.” Daenerys had an indignant expression on her face but an easy smile graced her lips.

Missandei chose that moment to arrive in the throne room and the attention of the twins were draw to her.

“I apologize for the interruption my king, my queen. Your guest has arrived. Tyrion is greeting him at the beach as we speak.” The interpreter gave a slight bow after delivering the message and narrowed her eyes when (Y/n) started laughing.

“That's great news!” The man begun walking towards the door before being stopped by Daenerys's voice.

“Where are you going?” Her voice held doubt and apprehension at what (Y/n) was about to do.

“Well dear mandia, I'm going to greet our guest of course. The king in the North deserves a proper reception, don't you think?” Mandia = Sister

“He's not the king in the north, lēkia. At least not yet.” Daenerys tone were reprimanding, a tone she used a lot when speaking to her brother. lēkia = Brother.

The white-haired man’s only response was to chuckle and turning his back on the two woman that looked at each other with knowing looks.

“The king is going to ride (Y/D/N), isn't he?” Missandei asked her queen which responded with an amused and exasperated smile.

“You know how he loves dramatic entrances. I just hope he doesn't scare our guest to death and causes another war.” At the mention of Jon Snow the interpreter remembered something.

“Your brother has been very interested in the bastard, don't you think?” The ex-slave was trusted enough by her queen to have that kind of conversation.

“What do you mean?” Daenerys asked while eyeing her friend with interest.

“He's been asking for many whispers about the man, and a lot of them aren't about politics.” Missandei grinned when her queen understood the implications of the information. “And if I might say, he is indeed very handsome.” The woman gave a shy smile which was responded with a curious and surprised one from Daenerys.

“Come, you must tell me everything. Is he as short as they say…?” The queen and her interpreter proceeded with linked arms out of the throne room.

The mother of dragons was very protective of her “older” brother, as he liked to put it. As a matter of fact, they hadn't even grow up together.

(Y/n) came back to Westeros after spending almost all his life back at what was left of the home land of the Targaryen’s, Valyria. But his identity was known to Daenerys, so when a man with white hair and purple eyes came riding on the back of a (Y/D/C) dragon she knew what to expect, but the moment still came as a surprise.

(Y/n) was a laid-back guy, with a sassy and cheeky attitude. He was instantly liked and disliked by many. Most men envied the king due to his swordsmanship and physique while the women would swoon every time he spoke.

The striking similarity between the twins was proof enough of (Y/n)'s heritage. They were quick in warming up for each other and soon became inseparable.

Daenerys made the decision to share the rule of the seven kingdoms with her brother, after he proved to have a sharp mind and “unusual abilities” that made him invaluable to their success. And she needed someone she could trust by her side and the queen knew she wouldn't find that in any other man.

So, it was only natural for Daenerys to know everything about the man her brother seemed to be infatuated with. She could only hope the situation didn't came between them and the iron throne.

(Y/N) strode confidently across the many stone halls of the castle until he reached the side exit. His crimson cloak was blowing in the strong wind that was coming from the sea, and the family crest embed in the metal of his armor, right above his heart, shone in the pale morning light.

The winds were getting colder by the day, but the young dragon had fire in his blood, it warmed his body and soul against the freezing air.

(Y/n) crossed rocks and grass until he reached the dragon nest.

On a burned patch of stone, surrounded by bones and other animal remains, stood four dragons. Two smaller ones, Rhaegal and Viserion. And two bulkier ones, Drogon and (Y/D/N), the latter being the bigger of the four.

Dany was afraid at first that Drogon would get too territorial and would eventually try to kill her brother's dragon, but the opposite happened. Both dragons turned out to be best buddies, if you could explain their relationship the same way humans do.

The four giant beasts turned to look at the man as he approached, raising and flaring their frills in excitement. Drogon got closer and gave the young rider a small bump on the sides with his giant head, his way of greeting.

“Is good to see you too, you rascal.” (y/n) gave the dragon a teasing smile and a few head rubs, then after getting what he wanted, Drogon turned back the way he came.

The giant beast bumped its head on the other dragon's neck and went to lay down not too far away.

It was (Y/D/N)'s turn to come closer to the man, lowering himself and silently asking for a head rub, just like Drogon.

“Someone's feeling needy today, huh?” (Y/n) reached with both hands and started scratching the hard scales. The dragon let out a puff of hot air that warmed the man's skin.

The dragon rider gently touched their foreheads together as they often did, and the beast made a purring noise similar to a cat, tough much louder.

(Y/n)'s magical bond with his and Dany's dragons was deeper than the one between parents and their children. He could feel their spirit and the fire essence running through their veins. Five consciences melding into one, becoming hard to determine when one ends and other begins.

The peaceful silence was broken by the young man that remembered why he came to see his dragon in the first place.

“Let's greet our new guest (Y/D/N). He deserves a proper welcoming committee.” The dragon let a sound that looked awfully like a chuckle.

The stories about dragons that mimicked their rider's personalities were very much true. While (y/n)'s dragon was playful and mischievous, Drogon could be as brooding and frightening as Dany in a bad day.

The young rider moved easily when climbing his dragon's shoulder, the action almost automatic.

The beast's huge horns served as a make shift ladder and soon the rider were positioned on the dragon's back.

“Sōvēs!” “Fly!” At the command, (Y/D/N) arced his back and extended his wings, each as brilliant as stained glass, and with a powerful movement they took off.

Tyrion and Grey Worm stood by the beach, the former had just greeted the bastard of Winterfell and his advisor Ser Davos Seaworth.

Dothraki men surrounding the four figures regarded the visitors with wary curiosity, they trusted their khal and khaleesi, but one could never be too careful.

“Come now Snow, it's time for you to meet the rightful rulers of Westeros.” Tyrion remarked while leading the two men through the stone staircase.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the Onion knight and the bastard followed the dwarf, with the Dothraki men right behind them.

“If you don't mind me asking Lord Tyrion, but when did the Queen's brother arrived in Westeros?” Jon asked while eyeing his surroundings. The topic of the male Targaryen was one that came in many conversations between him and Sansa.

Since his appearance rumors were quickly spreading to all the seven kingdoms, but what Jon and his half-sister knew was probably just that, rumors.

He couldn't deny his curiosity anymore, the man intrigued him.

“Oh, he arrived a few days before Daenerys and the Unsullied took the city of Meereen. He was actually detrimental to their victory that day. If you're concerned about his heritage, don't be. They're very much alike, frightening so. And something tells me you'll be meeting soon.” Tyrion had his eyes set on the horizon, right above the man's right shoulder.

Jon had just followed the dwarf's gaze when he heard a loud roar and a pair of giant (Y/D/C) wings blocked his sight. He could barely dive in time before being decapitated by huge sharp talons.

The winged monster took another turn, and Jon could only gape and stare at the creature with wide eyes.

The dragon finally landed on the staircase making the whole structure shake and blocking the way.

Jon's attention that until now was set on massive black teeth, each the size of a man's arm, snapped towards the dragon's back where an armored man sat.

Brown eyes met purple ones. The man on the dragon's back had white snow hair, tied in a single long braid that went past his waist and a playful smile graced his lips when he looked at Jon, sprawled on the ground.

“Aena Shekhikhi. Qhono!” “Good Morning.” (y/n) greeted his men, the Dothraki, and called the attention of the taller one that stepped as closer to the dragon as he could. “Zhey qoy qoyi! Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh? Chek?” “Blood of my blood! How are you feeling today? Better?” The dragon rider asked the man, that bowed respectfully. 

“Anha dothrak chek asshekh, Khal vezhven.”  “I feel well today, great Khal.” Since arriving on the island, a large number of riders were getting sick, their bodies were not accustomed to such cold weather. (Y/n) was paying close attention to them and did what he could to speed their recovery using his medical knowledge, and other means.

“Akka zhey Moro?”  “And Moro?” The male inquired about the other rider.

“Mae's davra ale, khal. Vo afazh asshekh. Anha tih mae dothralat disse ajjin.” “He’s better, Khal. Not hot anymore. I saw him riding just now.” The rider's mouth twitched and (y/n) was pretty sure the man was fighting a smile, happy that he's fellow rider was finally getting better no doubt.

“Hazi davrae. Hezi davrae.” “That’s good. That’s good.” Sighted in relief. He had been worrying sick, and the good news were definitely welcome. “Astat mae tat jadat tihat anna. Haje? Akka zhey Qhono, zhorre yeri mahrazhi akka mithri. Yer tat davra.” “Tell him to come see me later. Okay? And Qhono, take your men and rest. You deserve it.” The young dragon spoke respectfully with his bloodrider.

“Ven yer astat, zhey Khal vezhven.”  “As you wish, great Khal.” The dothrak then spoke with the rest of his men and they began descending the staircase.

Only when the last Dothraki was out of ear shot did (Y/N) spoke, eyeing the man that yet had to get up from the ground.

“Lord Stark, it's an honor to finally put a face to the name. I promise the view is much better when you are standing up.” Jon seemed to come out of his haze when Tyrion came close and offered his hand.

“I'd say you get used to seeing them. But you never really do.” The dwarf shared his mind while giving the dragon rider a knowing and amused look.

Jon was able to recollect himself pretty quick and greeted the male Targaryen.

“Your grace, it's an honor to finally meet you too.” The white wolf gave a slight nod while looking from the dragon to his rider.

“If you don't mind me interrupting your grace.” Ser Davos came forth and spoke directly with the king. “You addressed Jon Snow as Lord stark, but that's incorrect. He never took his deceased father's family name and Jon is a king not a Lord.”

“With all due respect Ser Davos, from where I come from we never punished the child of the unfaithful. We punish the unfaithful. And we shall see about the king situation soon enough.” (Y/N) said the next words to Jon, and the intensity of his gaze almost made the man squirm. “You have the blood of the first men running through your veins Jon, you have every right to be called a Stark. And if that wasn't enough, your actions in protecting the north and your house speak for themselves.” Only the strong wind could be heard while the two men stared at each other's eyes.

(Y/N) could see that his words pleased Jon in a deeper level, maybe the man was just seeking approval and the young rider was happy to oblige.

“What happened to the unfaithful in Valyria, if you don't mind me asking your grace.” Tyrion spoke breaking the uncomfortable silence. The dwarf had an insatiable curiosity about everything related to Old Valyria.

“Well Lord Tyrion, let's just say there was amputation of certain limbs involved and leave it at that.” (Y/n) was the only one smiling at what he just said while the other three men looked at each other and gulped.

Suddenly (Y/D/N) advanced towards Jon. The man was caught by surprise, but still held his ground. It took every ounce of courage for him not to cower in the face of such monster.

(Y/n) could only look in surprise at the scene unfolding beneath him. He didn't detect any violent thoughts coming from his dragon just curiosity, so he only watched.

The dragon's massive head got closer enough to touch. He took his time inhaling the man's scent. Big and slitted orbs perused every inch of skin it could find before focusing on auburn colored eyes.

Jon did not blink or moved while the other three men watching could only gawk at the scene. (Y/n)'s expression was one of pure amazement and awe when suddenly an idea popped in his head.

Dany would probably ground him for life for even having this idea in the first place, but when did that prevented him from doing anything.

“Lord Tyrion, Aegon's Garden at this time of day is strikingly beautiful if I recall, and it has a lovely piney scent that I'm sure Ser Davos would find quite pleasing.” (Y/N) had a sweet innocent smile on his face, however Tyrion could see right through it, but knew better then questioning the king's motives so he simply nodded.

“I don't think that's wise Jon.” The old knight was quickly interrupted by the man.

“I'm going to be fine for now Ser Davos, you may accompany Lord Tyrion.” Jon removed his eyes from the dragon rider just enough to dismiss the knight from his services.

The dwarf went first to guide the way and soon the old man reluctantly followed.

When both men were far enough the young rider started to climb down from the dragon. His agile limbs made quick work and he was on the ground in a few seconds.

(Y/N) lazily walked towards Jon while caressing his dragon's scaled neck. Heat radiated through the thick plates, warming his hand.

“(Y/D/N) seems to really like you my lord.” The male Targaryen got closer to the man and was surprised that Jon stood a few inches shorter than him, a fact that brought a predatory smile to his lips.

The white wolf would be disturbed if someone else looked at him like that, but he just felt a heat spreading through his body that only worsened when the young rider started to circling him.

(Y/n)'s violet eyes roamed every inch of armor, leather and skin. His intense gaze focused on the slight blush on the other man's cheeks and ears, making them even more vivid. Inching his nose a little closer to the man, (y/n) breathed his scent in, which was earthy and reminded him of freshly cut wood, like the damp forest after a snowy day.

Jon finally was able to fight through the intense heat coiled in his belly that was clouding his mind and making his whole body ablaze. He cleared his throat before attempting speaking.

“Y-your grace, you've said earlier that you're from Old Valyria. Wasn't Valyria destroyed millennia ago?” As soon the words left Jon's mouth the man wished he could take them back.

(Y/N)'s face once joyful became full of sorrow and hard as stone. The man turned his back to Jon and looked up, meeting his dragon's slitted eyes. The immense creature stared down at him. Whatever he saw in those big orbs made up his mind.

He would trust a piece of his past to a man that he knew nothing about, or only knew what his dreams had shown him, and what his spies had uncovered. The bastard could turn out to be the enemy depending on the reason of his visit, but a feeling from deep down told him that he could trust the white wolf, the same gut feeling that led him to his sister all those years ago. The feeling he learned to follow without question.

The truth was, (Y/N) had already fallen for the man, a man he didn't met until that day. But he knew Jon to be compassionate, brave and stubborn. A man that refused to stay dead when his people still needed him. A man that would sacrifice himself to protect the family that never returned his love.

Jon was about to apologize for his lack of manners when the white-haired man started talking.

“You probably already know of when I came to be. The story goes about a great storm, that wrecked ships and shook the very foundations of this island. Me and Dany were born during that storm, hence her title, Stormborn.” Now that the gates were open the words came flowing. “My mother, gods bless her, had what the Dothraki calls a bloodrider, dothrakhqoyi, as said in dothraki language. He would kill and die for her without a second thought.” (Y/n) finally mustered the courage to turn back around. His piercing eyes focusing on Jon's brown orbs.

“That Dothrak warrior I talked to a few moments ago is one of those, my bloodrider, Qhono. Every respected Khal and khaleesi have a few warriors that had pledge their life and service to them. I'm really lucky to have two of those warriors, Moro and Qhono. We didn't come from the same womb, but they're blood of my blood nonetheless.”

“It amazes me how the Dothraki followed you and your sister here, your grace. From what I've heard they are not very fond of the sea.” After the north proclaimed him as King, Jon was set on a quest to know everything he could about his potential “enemies”, and that included the Horse Lords.

“They are not. But they are a strong people that value strength above all. When I arrived things were hard, they were wary of the new comer which is understandable.” (y/n) talked about those times with fondness, his eyes became distant probably remembering something from the past. “In time, after many battles fought, I proved my worth. Some of them died in the process, as their culture dictate, but then I became their Khal. My greatest honor. A day I'll never forget.” The man's purple eyes were glistening in the pale light of the rising sun, but he quickly wiped the tears away.

“Your grace seems to really care about the Dothraki.” The, even though they are not really your people part was left unsaid by Jon.

“They are my people. Dany tends to forget that they are her's too. I would give up everything for them, even my own life.” (Y/n) stated with such raw honesty that the bastard had no doubt the man was telling the truth. Jon felt his stomach fluttering and his heart swelled in admiration.

The bastard didn't know from where those feelings were coming from, but he smiled through the confusion making the other man frown.

“As a true king should do.” (y/n) stared into the man's eyes, that were a deep, earthy brown — the color of earth after torrential rains.

“I'm right to assume you would do the same for the north, Lord Stark?” The young rider asked, his soft lips stretching into a smile that didn't quite reach his violet eyes. The bastard thought he would never get used to be called like that, but it would be a lie if the man said he didn't like it.

“Without a second thought.” Jon answered with no hesitation and (y/n) had no choice but believe him.

“I hope we never come to that.” The king replied giving Jon a sad smile, one the man mirrored.

(Y/n) started climbing the stone steps that would eventually lead them to the castle. Jon followed close behind and soon they were faced with a giant (Y/D/C) dragon. The young rider gently caressed the smooth and hard scales.

“Jikagon hae se jelmio.” “Go like the wind.” The words were said to the dragon that after nuzzling his rider's hand took off towards the cliff. The two men stood there, silently watching the immense beast flying away, well (Y/n) was at least. Jon's eyes were admiring the man's profile. The dragon rider had a soft expression, making his eyes less intense and more peaceful. This look suited him better, Jon thought.

It was time for the bastard to blush again when the male Targaryen realized the man was staring. With a soft and teasing smile (Y/N) got closer. 

“It's amazing how a man that faced the frozen hard winter of the north, can blush with just a cold breeze.” The young rider reached with his fingers, caressing the other man's cheek that was like ice to the touch.

Jon closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him without ill intentions. And the ones who actually did it caused him great pain, physically and otherwise, and he had the scars to prove it.

But (Y/n) touch, despise his teasing tone, was gentle and radiated warmth. A warmth that Jon didn't know he craved until he had a taste of it.

“Or maybe is something else entirely.” Jon felt the warmth leaving his cheek and for just a second he chased after it before snapping back to reality. 

Jon couldn't look (Y/n) in the eyes so he focused on a very interesting patch of stone close to his feet. The bastard could feel the other man stare a hole in his head, which made him even more embarrassed. He was regretting ever letting Ser Davos leave with Tyrion.

(Y/n) didn't know Jon would react the way he did, but it was a nice surprise. The lord commander,  the man rumored to have come back to life, the king in the North, and he was blushing to the tip of his ears and all it took was a slight brush of his fingers. (Y/n) could only imagine how the man would react to a real touch, or maybe something more.

The young rider finally took pity of Jon and diverted his eyes towards the horizon. The bastard looked up when (Y/n) started speaking again.

“As I was saying, my mother's knight sailed to the continent of Essos a few months before my birth, in search of what was left of the Valyrian Freehold, now known as Old Valyria. He found great many things. One of those being, the stone men were not the only living beings residing in the ruins of my city. My people still lived, a few of them at least, and our culture lived with them.” Jon could only listen to the man. What he described should be impossible. Every tale he had ever heard about Valyria depicted the city to be nothing but ruins. Nothing could leave there.

 “He stayed in the city for a few weeks. Helping where he could, building trust with the locals, and making connections. When he returned to Westeros the war was already happening. The War of the Usurper, primarily instigated by Eddard Stark, your father.” (y/n)'s expression didn't betray any emotion as the words left his mouth, and Jon stared in confusion. “What wouldn't we do for the ones we love, huh? If I were in his place I might have done the same thing. The world would burn before anyone could laid a hand on my sister.”

“I know the story. It seems our families have quite a history.” Jon stated, giving a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything. The topic wasn't a pleasant one.

“Indeed we have. Much blood was spilled between our houses, but that's in the past. The sons shouldn’t be blamed on the mistakes of their fathers. I hope we can agree that our real enemy are one and the same.” (y/n)'s eyes were holding the wisdom of the words he left unsaid, and Jon could swear the man knew more about the reasons of his visit than he was letting on.

(Y/n) diverted his eyes before the bastard could decipher the information they held.

“Needless to say, my mother died giving birth to me and my sister. But before that, she instructed her trusted knight to protect me with his life, and they knew I wouldn't be safe in Westeros. The Targaryen twins would draw to much attention if we stayed together, making us easy targets.” (y/n) started climbing the stone steps once again, in a lazy pace.

“So, your mother's knight took you to Essos?” Jon inquired, walking side by side with the taller man.

“Yes, he did. Ser Willem Darry, the former master-of-arms of the red keep, led four other loyalists in smuggling my brother Viserys and Dany from this island in the middle of the night. They ultimately sailed to Braavos across the Narrow sea. I went next, with only my protector and a wet nurse. We took the route south towards the summer sea, arriving at our final destination weeks later, the Valyrian Peninsula.” Of course (y/n) didn't remembered any of those facts, but his caretaker told him all about those early years.

Jon couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing, but something told him he should trust the man walking beside him, and that had nothing to do with his growing feelings towards the male, he told himself.

“How was it? Growing in such place, I mean.” Jon's curiosity wasn't academic like Tyrion's, he wanted to know (y/n) and for that he needed to understand his upbringing.

The man gave a humorless chuckle before responding.

“It was no place for a child to grow. But it was better then death, that's certain.” (y/n) joked, and this time both men laughed.

Jon's laugh was followed by small giggles that made his whole face flush. The laughter created a small vacation for both men, a blessed relief from all the distress that didn't seem to have an end. For a single moment Jon forgot about the night king, the white walkers and all the people depending on him. He lost the tightness in his chest. The muscles in his neck relaxed, and his shoulders sagged. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that good.

(Y/n) lost all sense of his surroundings. Staring wasn't quite the word for what the male was doing. His eyes rested, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh.

(Y/n)'s violet eyes focused on Jon's figure and everything about him. His hair, black and tied in bun, seemed to engulf every ray of sunlight. The male knew that underneath all the thick clothes was a powerful and strong body, able to withstand the cruel and harsh life of the north, and certainly marred with scars. (Y/n) never wanted more to strip the man bare, to break him apart just to… The male snapped back to reality.

“Ao mittys, ao mittys.” “You fool, you fool.” The white-haired man whispered over and over again between gritted teeth, cursing himself. He had done it again. A stupid thing, letting his feelings cloud his judgement. Tyrion always said he had too much heart, a growing rarity those days.

“Is everything all right, your grace?” Jon asked while his hand hovered above the man's shoulder, uncertain if the touch would be welcome or not.

“I'm fine my lord. It's just, I have a lot on my mind right now.” (y/n) answered with a fake smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Jon let his hand drop while giving the man a slight nod, his brows squished together in a concerned frown, but it was not his place to call the king out of his lie.

 “Where were we?” (Y/n) asked no one in particular.

“Your upbringing, your grace.” Jon responded after a few seconds of silence; the man seemed lost in thought.

“Right, how death can be compared to my childhood days. Gods how I can be morbid sometimes.” The king gave a humorless chuckle. His past wasn't a pleasant memory but it had its good moments. For the most part he chose to focus on those times, the happy ones. And yet his mind had other plans.

“Isse iā dārion hen perzys ānogār, mērī se quba kostagon umbagon paktot.” The words came flowing from his mouth, as it did years before from his protector's.

“What does it mean?” The bastard inquired in a soft tone. He knew the topic wasn't a pleasant one for the man.

“In a kingdom of fire and blood, only the wicked can stay sane.” (y/n)'s face was hard as steel, his eyes grew dark and haunted, but he forced the words out. “My guardian told me those words when I killed my first man. I had no choice, it was me or him, and I didn't take pleasure doing it. For me life is important, more than anything, but sometimes death it's the only way.”

“I learned great many things from him, my protector, particularly the best way to swing a sword. But to survive in Old Valyria one needed more than a metal stick.” (y/n) responded while taking a detour, so instead of going towards the castle, both men were heading to the other side of the island.

Jon realized this and almost told the king he had taken the wrong path, but decided against it. If anyone knew how to navigate the island was him.

“Do you believe in magic, my lord?” The white-haired man asked while taking careful steps between the rocks that littered the ground close to the cliff. The question caught Jon by surprise, but he answered after a few seconds of thinking.

“Well, I heard old stories. Warlocks on Qarth, red priests capable of seeing the future by gazing into flames and pyres. Men who are able to control untamed beasts by entering their minds. There was an old woman in Winterfell that used to tell all sorts of crazy stories, and I've seen things that I can't explain too.” At that Jon stops talking. His memories flashing back to what he saw during his time beyond the Wall. White walkers, the wights and the night king. He knew that that was true, because he had seen it with his own two eyes. The same couldn't be said about the rest.

“A skeptic, my lord? I understand. You can't believe in everything you hear, you need evidence. I like that.” (y/n) nodded his approval as a slight smile tugged his lips. “When I was a child, I used to believe in all sorts of fairytales that my wet nurse used to tell me. As I grew older I discovered that some of those tales were false while others were very much real. All proved to be true: blood magic, fire magic, greensight, skinchanging and finally, the darkest of them all, necromancy.” At the last word the white-haired man gave Jon a dark look, a look that made his skin crawl and the fine hairs covering his body to stand on end. Could the king be talking about the army of the dead? That was the reason Jon had come to Dragonstone in the first place. But how could (y/n) know about what happened beyond the Wall, the Targaryen’s never ventured so up north.

“What your grace meant about necromancy?” Jon asked when he was finally able to move his mouth again.

“Patience my lord. I have a feeling that all your questions will be answered soon.” The male twin replied giving Jon an enigmatic grin.

Soon they stopped at the edge of a cliff, and both men admired the sight before them.

Four giant beasts flying in front of the rising sun. The dragons had a way about them, a slowness and grace. Their immense leathery wings, each as brilliant as stained glass, blocking the pale rays of sunlight, casting the island in a dragon shaped shadow.

“They are beautiful, aren't they? How can you not believe in magic when the proof of its existence is right in front of you?” (y/n) asked the man beside him. Jon stared at the flying creatures in amazement and scoffed.

“With all due respect your grace, I don't even know how dragons are born, or created for that matter. All I know is that they went extinct hundreds of years ago and then suddenly they were back.” The bastard replied with crossed arms and a sarcastic expression, one that (y/n) couldn't help but laugh of. And damn it if Jon didn't want to hear that laugh many times more.

“So allow me to educate you my lord. Dragons lay clutches of eggs that are roughly the size of a human child's head, but much heavier. The spark of life inside these eggs can last for decades or even centuries, no one really knows. But the secret key to hatch a dragon's egg is made very obvious in my house words. Fire and blood.” The king then returned his gaze towards the flying dragons, while Jon took the opportunity to marvel at the man's profile.

“So you see, to give birth to a dragon one must have magic in their blood. The connection between rider and dragon can't be explained, it goes beyond our flesh. I would die for my ride Jon, as a mother would for her children. Do you understand?” (y/n) searing purple eyes focused on Jon, the man felt as if his feet were rooted to the ground, unable to move, he could only stare back. Whatever the king saw in those earthy brown orbs convinced him. Convinced him to show the bastard another piece of his past. “I want to show you something.” 

(Y/n) closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh, emptying his lungs. He focused on his dragons, their connection, and in their shared spirits. The man was able to feel every inch of scales and every shift of the powerful muscles underneath them. He watched from their eyes and heard from their ears. At that moment they were one. The same fire that burned in him burned inside of his children.

When he felt that their connection was complete (y/n) finally opened his eyes, and they were milky white. If Jon wasn't so engrossed at what he was seeing he might had fallen from the precipice. The sight scared him to his core, but it also amazed him. Of course, he had seen the same thing when he was beyond the wall, but this time it felt more powerful, more raw.

Jon could only gawk and hope the man couldn't see how much he was shaking.

“Māzigon.” “Come.” (y/n) whispered. If the bastard wasn't so captivated by the whole thing, he surely would've missed the moment when the four dragons started flying towards them. When the creatures were close enough to the cliff they dived towards the sea, dipping their tails and huge talons into the water. When Jon was sure the dragons would hit the rocky side of the island they extended their leathery wings, gaining speed towards the sky, only a few inches from where the bastard and the king stood.

If it wasn't for (y/n)'s good reflexes, Jon would had fallen face first on the ground. The king maintained a strong hold on the man's arm, keeping them both on their feet. Each dragon gave another turn before landing right in front of the two men, making the ground shake.

“Careful where you step my lord.” Jon looked at the man startled, half expecting to see eyes glazed white, but the foreign violet orbs were back and they were looking at him in amusement. “And now I scared you to silence. Great.” (y/n) chuckled while Jon diverted his eyes between him and the dragons, his mouth kept opening and closing like a stranded fish.

“H-how did you…? Were you controlling them?” The bastard spoke, after finally being able to form coherent words.

“Controlling? No. I was part of them, as they were part of me. I can control them if the situation requires, but is not something I would like to do. They are intelligent creatures my lord, more than certain men I know.” The snark comment drew a laugh from the bastard, that was watching the male twin caress the scaled head of his dragon. “They have affection for their friends and fury for their enemies. They grieve for the dead and rejoice at every victory.”

(Y/n) still had his hand around Jon's biceps. The male twin slid his fingers down the bastard's arm that was covered by hard clothing, the rough fabric was definitely made to protect the wearer from the cold.

Jon's breath hitched, all of his attention was focused on the soft feeling of the other man's touch, that radiated warmth even through the thick leather.

When their hands touched the world around them seemed to fade. (Y/n)'s hand was calloused but not as Jon's. His felt more like sandpaper, or perhaps stone, rough, unfinished and cold as if all heat had been sucked out of it. It suited him, the king thought, looking into his deep brown eyes, that held a gentle glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a shy smile. The male Targaryen brought Jon's hand up to his lips, the warm breath graced the man's fingers and goosebumps flooded his skin.

(Y/n) marveled at the harsh feeling of the man’s palm. A hand of a warrior. His lips caressed every callus and rough patch of skin, without taking his eyes off the bastard that had become a blushing mess. The king then took Jon’s hand, guiding it towards the awaiting dragon, that was still close. The irregular scales were warm to the touch, more so than the king’s hand, that was still on top of his, the bastard realized. (Y/D/N) nuzzled at the two hands in an affectionate manner, making both men chuckle, Jon in amazement and (y/n) in relief that his dragon accepted the man that he was, probably, in love with.

They were so immersed in the moment that Tyrion was able to sneak up on them. The only warning been the sounds of protest coming from the three dragons. Jon reluctantly removed his hand from the dragon’s warm scaled snout when he saw the dwarf making his way towards them.

“I’m sorry for the interruption your grace, but the queen awaits.” Missandei spoke while bowing in respect.

“Certainly. I think I kept you to myself for long enough, my lord. Believe me, you don’t want to leave my sister awaiting.” (y/n) said, giving the man a fake  frightened look, for which Jon responded with a chuckle. Missandei only eyed the interaction with amusement. “I trust Missandei to show you the way. I’ll be there momentarily.”

Jon gave the king one last lingering look and an awkward bow before following the ex-slave towards the castle. 

(Y/n)’s eyes followed Jon’s retreating figure for a few seconds before looking at his dragon and saying.  “Issa, kesi gaomagon bisy.” “Yep, we'll keep this one.”

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 43: 2x06, 13x04

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

November 2, 2021

2x06: No Exit

Written by: Matt Witten

Directed by: Kim Manners

Original air date: November 2, 2006

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean meet up with America's first serial killer, while Jo lies to her mother about going to Vegas and joins Sam and Dean to help them on their hunt.

Features:

Jo’s first case, ghostly kidnappings, H.H. Holmes, Jo is captured, the carelessness of John Winchester.

My Thoughts:

Jo Harvelle my dear, my beloved, I adore you. I love that even though she gets caught she’s not a damsel in distress. She gets to stab the creepy hand with the iron knife, she gets to scream in the ghost’s face, she gets to be instrumental in capturing him and trapping him in the sewers. She gets to be in control of her own life and hunt even when everyone is telling her no. And she’s allowed to be scared and cry and it doesn’t take away from her being smart and strong and brave.

I love the chemistry between her and Dean even though I don’t see it as a romantic vibe (lesbian-Jo truthers unite). They are so fun to watch in scenes together, especially when they’re whisper yelling at each other while Dean is on the phone with Ellen.

This episode does a great job of making a scary ghost, too. I know it’s only season 2, but they do ghosts so often on this show that they often feel kind of run-of-the-mill, so it’s nice to have one where the horror vibes are a little bit stronger. Thanks, Kim Manners, director of some of the best episodes of seasons 1-4 (Laz Rising, Dead in the Water, Houses of Holy, and Mystery Spot, to name a few). The shots of the fingers coming out of the vent and the mouth at the eye hole of Jo’s cabinet are super creepy in the best way. Also, Kim you make Dean look so pretty so often, god bless.

I like when the solution is forced to be something smarter or more creative than “burn the bones” or “burn the object that the spirit is connected to”. It’s exciting, and I love the salt trap. I wish they would use tricks like that more often.

The saddest thing about watching that episode is having already watched Defending Your Life and seeing Jo’s ghost. The Harvelles continue to die for the Winchesters :(

Notable Lines:

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't.”

“I was six or seven, and uh, he took me shooting for the first time. You know, bottles on a fence, that kind of thing. I bulls-eyed every one of 'em. He gave me this smile, like... I don't know.”

“Dean. It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but... I guess my father figured he could trust him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed. [...] It was your father, Dean.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: [rating]

IMdB Rating: 8.3

13x04: The Big Empty

Written by: Meredith Gylnn

Directed by: John Badham

Original air date: November 2, 2017

Plot Synopsis:

When multiple patients of grief counselor Mia Vallens turn up dead, Dean, Sam and Jack investigate the mystery surrounding the murders and, each inadvertently, are forced to deal with unresolved grief of their own.

Features:

Killed by your dead wife, Jack’s first case, the grief therapist that Dean desperately needs, shapeshifter therapist, weird German Empty Castiel, Jack tries to do Good, Cas wakes up.

My Thoughts:

This episode is good to me in every way except for Weird German Empty Castiel, who makes me cringe so hard that I physically can’t look at the screen or I’ll explode. It’s a real whiplash going between scenes in here, y’all.

Jack makes my heart explode in this episode. It’s insane how many times he asks about ghosts, or talking to dead people, or dead people coming back to life, and somehow the boys both just think he’s curious about hunting. He misses his parents! He never even got to know them! He missed Cas so much that he woke him up from the dead! And he’s so scared of Dean in this episode, as he should be, but it makes me so sad because I want them to bond so much. I love the widower arc in theory but I get riled up when Dean is mean to Jack. I’ve said it before, but I’m a Deangirl until Jack is threatened and then I switch teams. Jack is so good, and he’s so scared of being bad, and he only thinks he’s bad because Dean told him that he is.

I’m watching in my office while I work today, and I almost burst into tears during the Jack and Kelly scene, in front of my assistant and my boss and God and everyone. Would have been extremely embarrassing and I would have had to come up with a lie on the spot or admit to watching Supernatural instead of writing contracts. Truly, I think my weakness is characters confessing that they’re afraid that they’re evil. It’s so vulnerable and honest, and the fact that they’re asking means they’re not but they can’t see that. It’s so brutal that Tombstone is about to happen and he’s going to feel so much worse so soon.

I’m glad that they went with having the Empty use the form of people because I don’t think that they have the special effects budget for the black goo effect to really work well long-term, but I think there were more interesting options for it’s face than letting Misha do that truly horrendous voice. It’s wild because his acting is great as Cas in those scenes, but I can’t stand his acting as the Empty. I think having him be confronted by someone whose guilt he harbours a lot of guilt over would have been a better option. Why not bring Meg in earlier? Or an Angel? He killed tons of those and it would have been a chance to surprise us with someone we haven’t seen in a long time. Even Anna or Raphael would have been really cool.

I was thinking about how this is the second (third? I can’t remember) time that Dean has had his identity stolen by a shapeshifter, plus the time that the Leviathans were impersonating him and Dean. I don’t know, but there’s something so tragic that comes with Dean being so associated with a monster whose strongest characteristic is their ability to be deceptive.

Sam being all squished up in his chair in the last scene was so precious, it really got to me.

Notable Lines:

“You’re starting to sound like dad.”

“My brother’s delusional [...] He won’t even admit that Mom’s dead. Won’t even admit it. [...] Because if he admits it, then it’s real. If it’s real, then he has to deal with it, and he can’t handle that.”

“Why are you awake? ‘Cause fun fact—in all of forever, nothing ever wakes up here. I mean, ever. Ever. And second fun fact—when you woke up, I woke up, and I don’t like being awake.”

“I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love… what you fear. There is nothing for you back there”

“Sam thinks you were right, that—that I’m good. He wants me to believe it, and I wanna believe it, too. It’s just, I… I’ve hurt people. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. And I know I should feel bad, and I say I feel bad, but most of the time, I mostly… I don’t feel anything. And that’s why I think maybe… Maybe I’m a monster.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what you do. And even monsters can do good in this world.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 8.7

IMdB Rating: 8.6

In Conclusion: The rating for The Big Empty got dragged down significantly due to Bad Weird German Castiel Empty, but overall a great day for Stacked!

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[alwaysrunningoutoftime]

idealistic-imaginings BTS Fic Rec (Summer 2017)

If I’m gonna reblog fics, I’m gonna do it right. In an organized and set fashion. And sure I’m a complete no one, but these fics deserve love and attention because they’re all beautiful in their own way. And hey if this fic rec catches at least one persons eye, then I’ll be satisfied.

You’re gonna see a lot of the same authors...possibly their whole masterlist.

Once again I am a no one, but I’ve actually decided to do an endless series of fic recs because they’re constantly gonna be new stories to find and share. Some fic recs could be seasonal (as in I discovered them in that season, THIS), Memorable (these fics are ones that have strongly affected me and as it says are memorable), YouNeedaCheckIt (Chaptered stories, I’m keeping up with) and masterlist (a list of fics I’ve fell in love with in particular, in a persons masterlist, or several people’s. Basically gonna tell you who I stalked.)

I also just started reblogging (August2017) fics so theres a ton of hidden jewels I’ve read, but lost. Or haven’t read yet.

Ah Summer, the warmest season of the year. In the northern hemisphere it is linked to vacations, the end of school, and fun. Fun in the sun. For me it’s a time to finally take a break from school and relax. Hang out with friends, family and it is filled with opportunities to read fanfics. So with that heres my Summer fic rec... (there’s lowkey way more fics I’ve read this summer but those will go in SEVERAL other lists)

Kim Seokjin: 

Show me by @floralseokjin (Seokjin x Reader)

W|C: 14,138 AU: College Genre: smut, fluff, little angst Summary: your friend Jin has a proposition for you that you can’t seem to refuse, no matter how hard you try.

Great Romances of the 21st Century by @floralseokjin (Seokjin x Reader)

W|C: 12,799 AU: Highschool Genre: drama, fluff, smut, comedy Summary: in which you must tutor the most arrogant and pretentious jerk that ever existed, who can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than football, working out and girls… but then something changes and you find yourself thinking – maybe Kim Seokjin isn’t so bad after all?

Regret by @hskswife (Seokjin x Reader)

W|C: 473 Genre: Angst Summary: I miss you, I really do.

Home Is Wherever You Are by @hijoonie (Seokjin x Reader)

W|C: 3,600 AU: Military Genre: angst, fluff Summary: Kim Seokjin believes he can face any and all things with dignity and strength - prides himself in his resilience and armoured heart. He is a brave man, through and through. The only fear he has is the inability to find his way back into your arms, which in turn would mean he has lost his way home. Because home is wherever you are.

Min Yoongi: lol why is there no Yoongi. Don’t worry Yoongi is one of my three main biases (umm my bad). See it was originally Taehyung, but then that faithful day came 150309 (did I seriously fall in love with him on his birthday) in this video , I don’t know how or why, but there was some sort of shift and I saw Min Yoongi in a different light (there weren’t any english subs even). And then I slowly fell in love with Min Yoongi, for all his layers and personas. For his tsundere complex and love for armys, his ability to say what he feels but at the same time not say anything at all. Especially his passion for music and hard working mindset, even though it makes us worry a lot about him. He’s chillaxed and easy-going and isn’t afraid to stray from the crowd, he’s comfortable and confident with who he is, but there’s so much more to him under the surface. And I really admire that about him. Also for being my spirit animal ey. 

But trust me he’ll be in a whole bunch of other fic recs. Trust me, it’s just bad timing, In fact I started reblogging fics more then halfway through August. And it’s either I’ve saved those Yoongi fics to read later on. They’re a chaptered fic that hasn’t been updated in a while. Or they’re meant to be on another list.

Anyway you may be wondering who that third man is, well he’s up next. You see I don’t know how this man swerved and wiggled and danced his way into my heart. I guess it slowly happened over the course of a semester and the summertime, until finally he officially sticked. The golden hyung (who I lowkey think will kill it on broadway), a man of many talents, the happy virus, our hope, our angel. But also an amazing brother (and mother) to his BTS members, who carries such a passion for his art. In fact he’s fighting Yoongi for 1st place. As you can see from the total difference between the amount of fics I’m recing of his. (I’m sorry Taehyung)

Jung Hoseok:

Journeys Which Are Long Gone by @strawberrymarshmallowstories (Hoseok x Reader 

AU: Magic Genre: Mystery Summary: Your days pass as usual, customers to meet, life to be risked with getting trapped in unknown realms. Just, the usual

Bones by @floralseokjin (Hoseok x Reader, Yoongi x Reader)

Chapters: 5 AU: College Genre: angst, smut, friends with benefits, fluff Summary: you were broken from a past relationship, and Hoseok wanted to fix you, but what price was he willing to pay? Would he end up worse off, or would you realise in time, that your best friend was the one…? 

It’s Alright Honey by @strawberrymarshmallowstories (Hoseok x Reader)

Chapters: 4/? AU: Normal life Genre: Angst Summary: There had always been something underlying burning between you two, something that you never had a chance to explore as one of you had always been in a relationship. You played around with each other a lot, teasing, inviting, but always stopped when this innocent game was in danger to turn serious.

Dressed Like A Daydream by @dat-town (Hoseok x Reader)

W|C: 10,354 AU: Royalty, Cinderella Genre: adventure, fluff, romance, humour Prompt: Cinderella did not come to the party to enjoy it, but is instead an assassin tasked to kill the prince. (cr.) / I  snuck into the castle to kill you, but wow you’re good with a sword, and I quite like your eyes Summary: When the Crown Princess’ best friend agrees to go to the ball instead of her, to kill Prince Hoseok and save her from an arranged marriage, that’s definitely not how she planned this.

Part of Your World by @guksthighs (Hoseok x Reader)

Chapters: 5 AU: Mermaid/Siren!Hoseok Genre: Fantasy, Angst, Fluff Request: AU where he is a merman and he tries to get you to go and live in the sea with him thanks Excerpt: ‘never trust a mermaid because they could be a siren in disguise’

Waiting For Him by @strawberrymarshmallowstories (Hoseok x Reader)

W|C: 880 Genre: slice of life, fluff Summary: When rainy evenings make you feel alone

First Meeting by @strawberrymarshmallowstories (Hoseok x Reader)

W|C: 1,360 Genre: Fluff Summary: You knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about you. But in that moment you knew enough. His name was Hoseok.

Early Fluffy Mornings by @strawberrymarshmallowstories (Hoseok x Reader)

W|C: 1K Genre: Pure Fluff Summary: Early mornings with Hoseok were the best.

Kim Namjoon:

Mission Bad Boy by @oppamansae (Namjoon x Reader)

Chapters: 6/? AU: Highschool Genre: Angst, Humour Plot: What if you could win 100,000 Won by giving someone a makeover? But here’s the catch – you have 6 months to turn a nerdy, anti-social male into the school’s biggest heartthrob.

Park Jimin:

Young and Beautiful by @hayjeon (Jimin x Reader)

W|C: 12.6K AU: Great Gatsby Genre: angst, mentions of smut/murder, slight fluff Summary: “For a moment, all of earth and heaven held its breath as they witnessed a man who’d loved so fiercely, so unconditionally and thoroughly that he challenged god. Maybe once, the world had stood at this place, compelled into a trance at the single man who had dared to live so passionately to the greatest of human potential that one could ever comprehend nor desire to understand, faced with the man who’d dared to dream as magnificently as Park Jimin did.                                               

Bitter Aftertaste by @hskswife (Jimin x Reader)

W|C: 689 Genre/Warning: Angst, Cheating Summary: Your love was like coffee. It had a bitter aftertaste

Kim Taehyung:

The Beautiful Creature Living In This House by @lthyl (Taehyung x Reader)

Chapters: prologue + 3/? GENRE: Horror / Angst RATED T: for mentions of esoterism, blood, death, and mature themes SYNOPSIS: It’s a rainy night when you end up getting lost in the woods and then it’s a silent night when, luckily, safety comes in a form of a strange house and a tempting man. Somehow you feel no danger with him, but, really, shouldn’t you, when the old rooms hold such a mystery and his eyes such a dark gravity? 

Xeno by @oppamansae (Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x reader)

Chapters: prologue + 8/? AU: Furturistic, Idol!JK, Scientist! Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst Plot: The best part about being an assistant in a lab was watching all new inventions come to life, although sometimes some of them fail, leaving them away in a storage room, never to be bothered with; free for the taking.

The T-Shirt Thief by @jungblue (Taehyung x Reader)

W|C: 9,812 AU: Idol Genre: fluff, smut Description: In the midst of your loneliness due to Taehyung’s absence, you decide that you need a distraction, which somehow manifests itself as going over to his apartment and stealing a t-shirt or two… or three… Request: being in a relationship with taehyung, and stealing all of his t-shirts while he’s busy with bts’ latest comeback + smut

Jeon Jungkook:

The Blue Princess and Her Red Rose by @cutaepatootie (Jungkook x Reader)

W|C: 34.8k AU: Prince!JK,Princess!Reader Genre: Angst, Fluff & Smut Summary: After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. 

Portrait by @guksthighs (Jungkook x Reader)

W|C: 1.1k AU: College, Photography Genre: fluff Summary : You choose Jeongguk to work with for a project or is it because you have a crush on him? Request: oumaimafngr said: Hey, I love ur blog so much, and if requests are open I hope you’d make scenario of jk at college and he found out that his current crush is his childhood best friend thank you so much for writing great scenarios ❤❤

Untitled by @floralseokjin (Jungkook x Reader)

W|C: 1,679 Genre: angst Listen To: untitled // gdragon

[loriendragonqueen]

In His Arms She Found Her Place - Chapter Six

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Words: 1.313

Warnings: bad language; Masochism; Smut;Death; nearly death; Attempted Rape/Non-Con; Violence; Sadism; Blood; Depression; Emocional;

Notes: Sorry for posting it after a long time, but, now, after the new season trailer, I’m full of ideas!! ♥

Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five

____________________________________________________________

"He will not!" she said almost without voice, making her horse gallop.

Earl Erald was unpleased with his daughter's manners. But, after what he did with her when he heard what she done, killing the brother of an important merchant, it was to be expected.

"Isa! Where were you?" he asked harshly when she got down from the horse.

"Not now, father!" and she passed straight by him, going inside the palace to, finally, pay respect to the queen.

After doing her duty, she sat down and simply waited for the end of the evening. Finally, when it found its end, she were able to just escape for a few moments just to see the moonlight.

Her heart was heavy like a bundle full of stones. The cold within her was killing her natural fire.

"I ask your guidance, allfather. I do not want to be a monster. I do not want to kill anymore. Please, help me to understand what I am about to face!" she said to the wind while sat ontop of the hill nearby the city.

Tears fell from her sad eyes.

"I do not want to be a monster!" she repeated.

"But you are not!" the familiar voice said getting closer.

She looked over her shoulder and saw those piercing blue eyes staring back at her with such doubt.

"What have they done with you?" he asked concerned, finally sitting beside her.

She said nothing. She just hugged his torso in an attempt to get lost inside his arms.

"What happened, Isa?" and he held her body close enough, feeling her almost crushing his bones.

She was crying like a child.

"Look at me!" he demanded while feeling quite scared.

She obeyed and he saw that she was even more broken.

"I killed innocent men and women. I was obliged to raid with my father after what I did with that man. I was forced to kill. I am a monster, Ivar!" she sobbed while still crying.

"Listen to me, Isa. You are no monster. You are no beast. You are the best... the best thing that ever happened to me!" he whispered in the end.

"I am not. Can't you see how I suffer when I should not?" and she looked down.

"You are the light of my thoughts, Isa. Can't you see what you've done to me?" and he forced her to look at him. "You marked me in a way no one ever did. I still feel the burning touch of your lips on my skin whenever I close my eyes!"

And, in an impulse, she kissed him.

"All my life I've been waiting for someone like you!" she said still close from his lips. "My arms are mine. My lips are mine. My heart is mine. But it seems that I am not. It seems that I am yours. I have always been!"

She sighed while hugging him tight again, placing her head in the gap of his neck and his shoulder.

Ivar felt his heart ache. It was a piercing pain, little and yet annoying. But he did nothing but tight his arms around her.

"I am sorry for saying such things. You may not feel the same, but I could not keep it inside me. You make me feel complete." she spoke while slowly dancing her fingers on his back, feeling each muscle tremble at her touch.

"I..." he tried to say, but his voice became shy for the first time.

"You don't have to say a thing. Just do not cast me away now. Please, let me be with you a little longer!" she asked squeezing him and, as an answer, he started to intertwine his fingers in her hair, touching her scalp tenderly almost like a small ritual.

After a while in silence, they heard dogs howling and she knew that it was time for her to head home. Although she didn't want to, she moved a little away from him, just enough to admire his intense gaze and, with passion, kiss him a passionate goodbye.

"I thank the gods everyday for they put you on my path!" she said against his lips while running her fingers through his nape.

"Are you trying to fish my heart? First with your food, then with your kindness. So you soothe me in my tides of chaos and then you leave me. Then you return and make me so happy, and, now, you say these words. I cannot even speak the way you did. How can I put my thoughts out of my head and heart the way you did? It is unfair!" he sighed, finally speaking.

"Just to know that you think about me is enough, my war prince!" and she kissed him once more.

"It is not. I want to tell you how you make me feel, but..."

"Isa!" the echo found their ears and the young woman growled.

"I will make Einar suffer in such a way that he will regret of being alive!" she thought in loud voice while with her eyes closed.

"You want me to..."

"There is no need. I love my brothers with all of my heart and I would gladly die for them, but lately they are being a pain in my ass. Since they heard that you..."

"Isa!" the echo found them again, interrupting her.

"That I what?" he asked curious, frowning.

"That you almost killed that slave in your bed. They fear for my well being." and she took a deep breath.

He twisted his lips and closed his face.

"Yet, I fear you not. Besides, you would get tired just trying to hurt me and not being succeeded." she smirked in an attempt of making him come back to the past state of spirit.

"You are one of a kind!" and he kissed her with hunger, making their lips get swollen.

"Can I visit you at the first light of the day tomorrow?" she asked almost breathless.

"You can come even before if you want to. I want to... to wake up next to you. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning. You are so precious, my..." he was finally saying when Einar yelled again.

"Wait for me then. You have me, entirely, deeply, madly. Thank you for coming to my hut that day, even with your revenge plots. Thank you for staying with me!" and she kissed him one more time before getting on her feet and head home, finally.

Isa grabbed the reins of Svaldifair and then started to walk towards her brother. Einar was still calling for her.

"Stop acting like a mad old woman, Einar." she said when she saw him.

"Where were you?" he asked before seeing her swollen eyes and lips.

"It's not of your business!"

"You were with that boy, weren't you?" and his face closed. "How many times I have to tell you..."

"You are not my father. You are not my mother. Lately I don't even know if you are my brother, for you keep torturing me. Are you liking it, Eraldson? Is it amusing enough to you?" and she growled.

Her four dogs then came to meet her, for Einar had let them free to find their leader.

"Watch your tone, sister. You don't want to trample on our family just because of a crippled bastard!" he retorted peeved.

"YOU better watch your tone, Eraldson, for if he hear you saying such things, he'll kill you and I will do nothing about. I love you, but I don't know anymore if it is enough to endure all the things you've been doing to me." she mounted her horse.

Einar closed his fists, angrily, in hate.

"You made me a monster, now handle it!" and Svaldifair ran after she command him to. The four dogs followed them.

[fraggle-batches]

Because these are fun

1:Full name: Not comfortable sharing that

2:Zodiac sign: Libra 

3:3 fears: ladders, loneliness

4:3 things I love: my cats and boyfriend and laptop and dogs

5:4 turn on’s: tattoos, good hair, smoking, choking, hickeys

6:4 turn off’s: trump supporters

7:My best friend: my boyfriend

8:Sexual orientation: pansexual

9:My best first date: went to a concert (styg, stray from the path, knocked loose), was soo much fun, and also my first concert with a s/o

10:How tall am I: 5′7

11:What do I miss: my nana, being confident in myself and those around me

12:What time was I born? like 5:30 am 

13:Favorite color? grey

14:Do I have a crush? on my boyfriend, and cole sprouse

15:Favorite quote? “

16:Favorite place? Algonquin park

17:Favorite food? Pizza

18:Do I use sarcasm? Never

19:What am I listening to right now? Flaked Season 2 on Netflix

20:First thing I notice in new person? Shoes, hair, actions

21:Shoe size? Women’s 9.5, Mens 8.5

22:Eye color? Shit brown :))

23:Hair color? Naturally: Brown, Currently: Blonde, Previously: Pink

24: Favorite style of clothing? Uhm idk like casual/skate/dude clothes

25:Ever done a prank call? When I was like 11, but i grew tf up

26:What color of underwear I’m wearing now? I’m not..

27:Meaning behind my URL? Lord of the Rings (on a comedy video)

28:Favorite movie? ^

29:Favorite song? 

30:Favorite band? Don’t know, either The Wonder Years, Pink Floyd, The Tragically Hip

31:How I feel right now? Kinda shitty

32:Someone I love. Aaron

33:My current relationship status. In a relationship, one year at the end of the month.

34:My relationship with my parents. Was pretty fucked up for a while, I got kicked out and shit but now we’re civil and they buy me stuff to suck up for the shit they put me through/

35:Favorite holiday. 

36:Tattoos and piercing I have. I have my nose pierced, three 18g holes p/ear and one 10mm hole p ear.

37:Tattoos and piercing I want. I want to get a second nose piercing, maybe a septum, and my 10mm holes are going up to 22mm as we speak, I also intend to get an assload of tattoos when I’m no longer broke.

38:The reason I joined Tumblr. Joined it when I was like 12.. so I don’t know, just because it was ANOTHER form of social media for me to have.

39:Do I and my last ex hate each other? I hate him because he’s a rapist piece of shit and I’m sure he doesn’t even think of me so.

40:Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night” texts? No.

41:Have I ever kissed the last person I texted? Idek who the last person I texted was.

42:When did I last hold hands? Last night

43:How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? Depends what my hairs like, if it’s good, then 15 mins, if it’s shit then 35mins.

44:Have I shaved my legs in the past three days? Yeah

45: Where am I right now? On the couch at my boyfriends grandparents.

46:If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? Maybe my boyfriend, maybe a nurse 

47:Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? LOUD

48:Do I live with my Mom and Dad? No

49:Am I excited for anything? I’m going to see Roger Waters in October and I’m moving in 1-3 months.

50:Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? My boyfriend.

51:How often do I wear a fake smile? Often.

52:When was the last time I hugged someone? Earlier today I think

53:What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? I’d fucking leave him and move alone and go back to fucking instead of dating (other people obv)

54:Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? Maybe

55:What is something I disliked about today? Got into a couple pissing matches with the boy.

56:If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Gord Downie

57:What do I think about most? The amount of debt I’m in

58:What’s my strangest talent? Licking my nose maybe?

59:Do I have any strange phobias? I don’t know..

60:Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind all the way

61:What was the last lie I told? “I don’t want anything to eat rn”

62:Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? NEITHER

63:Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Ghosts: no. Spirits: Yes. Aliens: no, Extra-terrestrial life on another planet potentially in a different solar system: Yes.

64:Do I believe in magic? No

65:Do I believe in luck? I don’t know

66:What’s the weather like right now? Shitty, cloudy, cold, and dark

67:What was the last book I’ve read? The Handbook of Human Sexuality

68:Do I like the smell of gasoline? Uhh yeah

69:Do I have any nicknames? -----

70:What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? Probably when I fractured my skull as a kid. Or the two times I broke my clavicle in the SAME spot like 3 years apart lmao.

71:Do I spend money or save it? I’m a compulsive spender

72:Can I touch my nose with a tongue? Yep

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? I don’t think so

74:Favorite animal? Elephant maybe

75:What was I doing last night at 12 AM? Same thing as I’m doing now basically... fuck all

76:What do I think Satan’s last name is? He doesn’t have one/exist

77:What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? I believe by Stevie Wonder

78:How can you win my heart? Be a decent person and show the fucking world that I’m yours and you’re mine.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? “fuck all you cunts from my hometown”

80:What is my favorite word? cunt

81:My top 5 blogs on tumblr? nah

82:If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? “stop polluting, kill trump, learn how to give a girl good head, end world hunger, adopt dont shop, support everyone regardless, cherish each other”

83:Do I have any relatives in jail? I don’t think so, but maybe

84:I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? To be able to like pause life and be the only one who isn’t paused but I don’t age on pause so it’s chill. Or to turn off my bad emotions whenever I want

85:What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? I don’t know, I;m pretty open

86:What is my current desktop picture? My dog 

87:Had sex? Daily

88:Bought condoms? Hate them, but yeah

89:Gotten pregnant? No

90:Failed a class? Yeah

91:Kissed a boy? Yeah

92:Kissed a girl? Yeah

93:Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? Yeah

94:Had job? Yeah

95:Left the house without my wallet? The worst!!

96:Bullied someone on the Internet? No... well maybe this one stupid piece of shit that raped my friend, posted her nude pics on a porn website and harasses her to this day. But I think that’s with warrant to bully so idc

97:Had sex in public? In a few places...

98:Played on a sports team? Other than school, no

99:Smoked weed? Daily

100:Did drugs? some

101:Smoked cigarettes? Yep

102:Drank alcohol? Yep

103:Am I a vegetarian/vegan? Used to be 

104:Been overweight? Currently am

105:Been underweight? Yep

106:Been to a wedding? Yep

107:Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? Most of the time

108:Watched TV for 5 hours straight? Yep

109:Been outside my home country? Yep

110:Gotten my heart broken? Sort of

111:Been to a professional sports game? No

112:Broken a bone? Skull, elbow, clavicle x 2, wrist x3, most of my toes, both my thumbs, my left ring finger, my ankle, and foot.

113:Cut myself? Used to

114:Been to prom? Fuck prom

115:Been in airplane? Yep

 116: Fly by helicopter? No

117:What concerts have I been to? To name a few (not even close to 1/4 of them: The wonder Years x4, Moose Blood x2, Neck Deep, Real Friends x3, Modern Baseball x3, Knocked Loose, Stick to Your Guns, etc...

118:Had a crush on someone of the same sex? Yep

119:Learned another language? Started to learn german, dropped it. Spoke some french but I’m rusty.

120:Wore make up? Most days

121:Lost my virginity before I was 18? Way before I was 18

122:Had oral sex? Yeah

123:Dyed my hair? Every few months for the last like 4-5 years

124:Voted in a presidential election? Not yet.. 2019 here I come

125:Rode in an ambulance? No

126:Had a surgery? Small one

127:Met someone famous? A few people.. Dan Campbell from the Wonder Years being one of them

128:Stalked someone on a social network? In an innocent-ish “what the fuck is my boyfriend doing liking your slutty pics” stalking

129:Peed outside? Yep

130:Been fishing? Yep

131:Helped with charity? Yep

132:Been rejected by a crush? No

133:Broken a mirror? Yep

134:What do I want for birthday? A camera

135:How many kids do I want and what will be their names? 2-3. Nora, Avalyn, and idk maybe Declan, Jax, Quinn?

136:Was I named after anyone? No

137:Do I like my handwriting? Sometimes

138:What was my favorite toy as a child? Pogs, Pokemon Cards, Idk I mostly read books

139:Favorite TV Show? Shameless is lit

140:Where do I want to live when older? I don;t know yet, used to be Alaska but the US is fucked rn

141:Play any musical instrument? A little piano, tried guitar

142:One of my scars, how did I get it? one on my hand is shaped like a dick.. i stuck my hand in a fire to get a cigarette that dropped when i was drunk and burned the fuck outta my hand, when it scarred the center got prominent, and dick shaped

143:Favorite pizza topping? Bacon

144:Am I afraid of the dark? No

145:Am I afraid of heights? A little

146:Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? Yeah, I’ve been caught sneaking out and smoking pot and getting drunk when I was supposedly studying or having a quiet movie night in

147:Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? All the time

148:What I’m really bad at. Life, keeping my temper in check

149:What my greatest achievements are. I graduated high school, and got into college and university

150:The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me. “fat homewrecking bitch”.. but it wasn’t the truth

151:What I’d do if I won in a lottery. Pay off my debt and adopt a load of animals in need

152:What do I like about myself? I got some nice eyelashes, and a nice rack

153:My closest Tumblr friend. ------

154:Something I fantasies about. Cole Sprouse 

155:Any question you’d like -------