a good name shines in the dark

You are only a child when they start feeding you stories about the greatness your last name carries.

You are six years old and playing with your fake wand as your father looks at you with pride and assures you your future will be filled with power and no wizard will look down on you.

You are seven when he starts telling you about those with less pure bloodlines, you nod your head as your idol, your hero, fills you with hatred and ignorance. “Dad is always right” he says, you believe him.

You are eight when you watch him mistreat others and spit on their heads for their status. You watch and learn.

You are nine when he encourages you to do the same and smirks at you with pride shining in his eyes. He calls you his good boy. You’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again.

You are ten when you notice there’s a darkness that creeps in your home on some days, even though the curtains aren’t closed.

You are eleven when he asks you to befriend the boy you’ve been hearing whispers about since you can remember. He says it’s your first task of many. You wear your name with pride.

You are twelve when he tells you you’re not his son unless you obey and bring glory to the old and proud family name. He tells you it’s your duty.

You are thirteen when you try to ask him for advice and he closes the door in your face because he’s busy. He says one day you’ll understand.

You are fourteen when he tells you it’s almost time to make your family proud.

You are fifteen when the darkness in your home no longer lurks behind closed doors.

You are sixteen when he lets the darkness use you as a punching bag. You are sixteen when he asks you to choose between following his path or dying. When he asks you to damage your soul.

You are seventeen and you’ve seen more death than most people your age. You have scars time cannot fade. You can end all of this by turning the boy in, quick and easy, you’d ensure a good future that way, but you don’t. Because you no longer believe Dad is always right.

You are Draco Malfoy, but you wish you were just Draco.

The Ink of My Heart

Summary: Prompt 51 for @rotisserierogers ‘s writing challenge: A tattoo artist gives clients tattoos that determine their fate 

Pairing: Tattoo Artist/Alchemist!Bucky x Reader 

Word Count: 2824 Words

Warnings: Fluff, angst in the form of physical pain and being scared

Notes: This is pretty cute, but I’m so sleepy that I dunno anymore ahaha, sorry this is late Kumi!

Permanent Tags are OPEN | masterlist

Originally posted by winter-barnes

“Nattie, I’m fucking terrified. Is this even legal?” You’re gripping her hand so tight that you’re sure that you’re crushing her bones.

She gives you a withering look, before pulling up her sleeve. “It works, every time, guaranteed. Look at mine. Perfectly passive, and it’s gotten me my dream job and boyfriend.”

Your eyes linger over the highly detailed tattoo on her bicep, before looking back up at her. “You sure that this guy won’t use his…tattoo powers to murder me?”

She snorts, leaning against the brick wall. “He’s not allowed to do that, he doesn’t know what he’s casting but they can’t involve death or illness. Well…maybe illness, but there’ll be a good outcome. He sort of has a selection of objects, and you choose them, and they’re meant to influence your tattoo’s meaning. People don’t know what they’re getting, but in the end, it’ll be something that they’ve wanted for a while.”

“Do you know how sketchy that sounds?” You cross your arms, heart running wild with panic and oh shit this is a horrible idea isn’t it-

“Shut up, you’ll be fine,” Nat snatches your hand and marches you towards the door of the building, “you can’t miss your designated appointment, he stores his magic up for each client.”

“So what is he? A wizard? Like, from Harry Potter?” The bell tinkles as you enter the waiting room area. You take a brief look around, taking in the modern interior, with succulents on benches and plant pots dangling from the ceilings. There’s nothing ‘magic’ to this, what with fluffy blankets on the arms of the sofas, and industrial light bulbs casting a glow over the room.

“I’d prefer the word ‘alchemist,’ but you can call me a wizard if you want.” A voice says behind you, and you shriek, whipping around instantly.

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The Vampire Chronicles Facebook Interview **Recap**(5/4/17)

The Television Show


  • As many know now, they will be working with Paramount Television and Anonymous Content
  • They want to stay fully engaged with fans in the production process
  • No set broadcaster, all options open (Netflix, Hulu, etc.) (Chris joked about it being on Facebook)
  • Next announcement will be when that network is decided
  • No timeline for production. They have no idea how long it will take. Script-writing is next. Chris is the one who will be script-writing, Anne will review
  • Chris: “She finished writing season 1 when she wrote the books!”
  • Pilot is done. Next are more episodes. They are starting the process and having several meetings with Paramount and Anonymous Content
  • Anne SWEARS the series will be 100% loyal to the books. (They named GoT as an example of doing this though soooooo)
  • Anne said compromises are inevitable but artistic control comes from good will and respect; you make it work by picking people you admire and trust. They worked with Paramount and Anonymous Content since they all agreed on a common vision and the end result of the series
  • No idea about locations of sets and whatnot
  • Don’t know if they will keep with the 80’s period of the books, however Anne wants to do Lestat’s pre-vampire period period-accurate
  • Neil Jordan may end up helping out on the project


  • Still taking suggestions from fans and looking fancasts up on imdb
  • Anne: “Lestat is always shaking his fists to those who would break him down…Scrappish impish…lovable hero”
    Chris: “–and he’s hot!! :D He’s gonna be hot. #LestatIsHot”
  • Chris and Anne might want to cameo in the series (joked about making a game out of it)
  • Some characters may change where “ethnicity is flexible”
  • Anne and Chris agree that POC being casted are important and will be considered in casting. The Millennial vamps (older gang) will most likely be largely POC.
  • Anne says she has taken notice of black fans showing their admiration of Aaliyah playing Akasha.
    • Anne gave a story about meeting an Akasha cosplayer who mentioned that she and her friends feel left out of high fantasy for being black and how Anne was moved by this.
  • Anne: “Akasha isn’t written as black or a person of color…she’s middle eastern”
    Me: ??? (Those aren’t…mutually exclusive???)
    Anne: “–but she could be a person of color.”
  • Marius was played by a black man in the musical and Anne thought he did a great job. Marius can be any ethnicity so long as he’s half Roman. She’d prefer to have Marius as blue eyes and blonde haired like Lestat but it’s “not imperative for him”.
  • Anne: “Louis at least has to be beautiful”
  • Armand has to look as described as well.
  • Anne wanted Cher to play Gabrielle.
  • Anne and Chris to be inclusive, but will always focus more on how fine the actor is. Talent is needed to get the role, not just looks.
  • Armand will be casted as someone who looks 17, but will be technically older. Not sure about age for Lestat and Louis (Anne is thinking early 30s)
  • Physical and emotional aging will be put into consideration (she gave Marius as an example as him looking like he’s in his 40s but being mentally older)

Plot and Episodes

  • They will tell the story chronologically in Lestat’s eyes so wolves-paris-so on. Basically, how knowledge unfolds for Lestat is how it will unfold for audience THIS MAY CHANGE depending on when they talk to producers, however this is not what they want in terms of how the events should happen.
  • Don’t want to cheat on Lestat’s life and skip out any details of it (go figure)
    • Stay faithful to the books and to Lestat’s story
  • Chris warns for us to be mindful of news that doesn’t come from official page
  • Lestat and Gabbi’s journey to be expanded
  • Origin stories of Marius and other older vampires will be shown and expanded on (done through the flashback stories Marius gives)
  • Blood and Gold will be involved but they won’t DO the story (so using that material for possible spin offs)
  • A lot about the Talamasca and especially David. Jesse too, but mostly David
    • (Anne: He’s close friends with Lestat in TOTBT
      Me: Is that what you call it? lmao)
  • TVL could be 2-3 seasons. IWTV may be one. Depends
  • Anne and Chris want to know what goes wrong in the translation from book to media in other series so they can avoid it
  • They’re keeping eroticism the same as in the books.
  • Lestat turning Gabrielle will be a big scene, as they feel this is when the series starts to truly bring the vampire world into view and Lestat really starts becoming a vampire. This scene is significant in asking the audience what they would do in that instance. Lestat turning will also be significant.

Characters and Character Relations

  • There will be a lot about Louis and Lestat’s relationship in the series (and Lestat and Nicki)
  • Anne says she understands how important queer relationships are and how they have driven the series
  • *On expanding on other characters*
    Chris: …human characters like Jesse or Daniel Mollo-
    Me: :/
  • Anne doesn’t feel a need to make new characters.
  • More info on Théâtre des Vampires and the characters in that part will expanded as well
  • Chris and Anne openly acknowledge Lestat as bisexual and this will be depicted clearly within the show
  • On the topic of Armand, what that character means to Anne will shine, so he will gain a more sympathetic role outside of just the IWTV perspective. Both his dark side and his more childish, light-side will be shown
  • Jim Morrison of The Doors was Anne’s inspiration for Lestat’s singing voice and for the band (I forget but I think this was the song Anne named as being a good example. Though, I’m partial to their sexy song “5 to 1″). She describes Lestat’s voice as somewhere between a “barratone and tenor…Melodic”. (Something about Jon Bon Jovi also a little bit)

Mayfair Witches

  • Rights of Mayfair Witches not available to them (?) and thus, the crossover books are not a part of the VC TV series and, thus no show for them right now
  • Maybe Mayfair TV series in future. Anne doesn’t want them to play second fiddle to the vampires

Anne and Chris

  • They talked about the recent April Fool’s Joke. Anne apologized to Justin Beiber?? Why?? I don’t know (they weren’t behind the joke article)
  • Chris likes Riverdale (ew)
  • Chris worked with Anne on Ramses the Damned.
    • Someone in the VC Discord Server brought up the question of if Chris could/would carry out the VC books after Anne. Based off this interview, I think it’s very likely depending on how well the VC TV series goes. He seemed a little apprehensive about it, but he’s worked with his mother on writing and is familiar enough with her characters to care about them. I think it’s possible
  • Chris went to the VC balls in New Orleans as a kid
  • Chris’ A Density of Souls may get a chance to be a film. Chris is in discussion with someone about it (?? that’s what I got from the interview anyways)
  • *After Anne leaves to get Chris a Coke*
    Chris *to the camera*: She won’t let me out of the house. She won’t let me leave!!
    Me: Same

The Facebook Page and Other Information

  • Anne, yet again, made a little speech about how nerds mean a lot to Hollywood nowadays
    • “Readers know things about the novels that are valuable”
  • They have a record of fan comments that Anne reads every so often
  • They mentioned some of the fights going on in the FB thread
    • (Chris: There are some people with…strong casting choices.
      Anne: I got into fights with people lmao)
  • Anne prefers if you message her over the page rather than through emails
  • They cannot do much about given resumes and asking about jobs related to production. There will be a time for that later
  • Anne is in contract for two more VC novels. It sounded like her next novel is also included in the TV series’ contract, but I could have misinterpreted. 
  • Anne asks about any regrets or things she would change from the books as she goes into the series. More fleshing out but that’s about it
  • Disappointing the fans is their biggest concern and worry

okay but i’m ready to bet $10 that the real reason adam doesn’t want to stay overnight in monmouth is that once he did and woke up to gansey laying on his side, one arm under his head, staring in awe at adam and whispering “magnificent………. pure perfection… @ god thou art a good man .. creating this …… even in the darkness of the moonless night he shines bright like a diamond (diamond) *chokes on tears* good LoRD adam parrish. parrish. adam. what a poetic name he has .. like a sound of a silent forest,,, a peaceful rivulet,,, a lucid sky,, his delicate eyelashes …. no contest. nono. *sighs dreamily* adam parrish”

brotp tags masterlist

👽 hear ye hear ye!! look at me being productive for a change. alright, i see a lot of otp tags masterlists around and although they’re all awesome, brotps deserve some attention too. since i always find myself stuck on tags for them i decided to do one myself and so this was created!! so, under the cut you’ll find tag ideas for brotps (that fit otps too if you wanna) to which i will add as i think of more. i hope this helps you guys in some way and please reblog if you find useful!! 

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anonymous asked:

well now you have me thinking bout my dog, who is easily 65 pounds, but insists that he is a lapdog. magnus with a giant demon dog on his lap, drinking a martini, enjoying a quiet evening in with man's most frightening friend.

look, welcome to my mind

hellhounds are supposed to look like doberman pinschers (best thing i’ve ever heard) and just imagine this massive black dog with glowing red eyes, tendrils of something magical curling off of it’s body, crawling on top of magnus, whining in the back of it’s throat and opening it’s mouth with glittering teeth to lap a soft wet tongue over his face.

magnus of course indulges this animal, laughing deep in his chest and rubbing between it’s ears, even though it really doesn’t know it’s own strength. magnus feeds it some raw meat and then continues drinking his martini.

an hour later alec walks in and sees this huge animal, terrifying and beautiful settled on magnus’s lap, whining every time magnus doesn’t pet it’s head enough and his eyes go wide. magnus glances up, giving alec a happy smile.

“ah, alexander. meet excalifur.” he says, his eyes shining. the hellhound perks up slightly, watching alec like a hawk as he approaches cautiously. alec holds his hand out after a second, a slow smile spilling across his face.

the dog leans forward, sniffing it experimentally and then opens it’s glittering mouth and leaves alec’s hand a mess of blood tinged drool.

“that’s a good boy.” magnus hums, leaning forward to press a few soft kisses to the black mass of it’s head.

A Stolen Life

Here’s the long awaited Part 3 of “A Stolen Kiss” series. 
Sorry it took so long. 

Notes: I would also like to point out that this is a very different version of Author. He isn’t portrayed like Mark intended, so I apologize if this Author seems a little off character.

Part 1 
Part 2 

Originally posted by mpl0u

“You may have copies, but I’ll still enjoy every single blood-spill. You will be the start of a long and terrible nightmare for the others.” Dark snarled, the shadows of the room rising up to consume you, obscuring your sight of the scuffle.
The fog was shredded by the blackness of your mind. Dark’s influence completely taking over and destroying any ounce of the Author’s power that clung to your subconscious. He made sure it hurt the Author. That he felt every string of agony as he ripped him from your head. 
Dark’s fingers wrapped around the Author’s skull, and then with a vicious twist, he snapped his neck and dropped the body. It too was torn to nothing by the black. 

The Author looked at you from across the room. His previous copy, the one Dark slaughtered in your mind, lay twisted on the floor of his office. 
Or it seemed like you stood in his office. 
You weren’t sure where you were, but you knew it was Author that stood in the room with you. 
The memory of Dark’s anger, the violence you saw played through your mind. And the Author smirked, watching as your face drained of blood and horror clouded your eyes. 
He wrote that his second copy moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. 
You were still in your mind, but in the very deepest part of it. Where Author had written a version of himself inside you, a place where not even Dark could find. 
The real Author, the one that had replaced his fallen copy in the real world, kept writing on a new blank page. 
He had scripted the horror into your mind, playing with your thoughts and memories to believe you saw a twisted version of Dark. One with jagged fangs and yellow claws. Eyes that glowed with red hell-fire and a voice that made your blood run cold. 

“I’m sorry.” Author said as his hand rested on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I lost control of my own lust. I was foolish and selfish. Please forgive me.” 

You looked up from the broken body. Eyes settling on Author as he waited for your response. 
“I will never forgive you for what you did. Even if it was a dream. It was not consensual!” Your voice raised in volume, anger and fear rushing through you. “Why can’t you just leave me and Dark alone?” 

“Because I fear for you.” Author replied sharply. “I know what Darkiplier is truly like. He isn’t some broken soul for you to fix. He’s an entity of hate and anger. You are Mortal, my dear. You have an entire life that will waste away because of him.” The Author shook his head, sighing. “I didn’t expect myself to feel so strongly about this. But I cannot watch another Mortal be claimed by this creature. Please, my dear, let me protect you. Or at least take you away from Dark. I’ll create a new life for you if you wish. And you’ll never see me again.” 

The real Author leaned back in his chair, contemplating what he just wrote. 
How did he feel about Dark’s claim on another Mortal? It was definitely becoming a habit of this entity to become possessive of a less powerful creature. Author briefly wondered what drew Dark to them. It couldn’t be compassion. 
Dark was as his name labels him. 
A cold being, void of emotions other than those that were given to him by his creation. He couldn’t evolve humanity. And love was out of question. 
Was it the need to feel wanted? Dark did act like a spoiled child sometimes. 
Wanting attention, and doing harmful things to get it. 
Author returned his attention back to you as you started to speak. Coming out of your doubtful thoughts. Sinking into a pool of dread and confusion at the mention of “another Mortal”. 

“Dark….had more lovers?” You asked slowly. “What happened to them?” 
“Mortality, my dear,” Author said, his eyes watching you worriedly. “I did not wish to upset you. But perhaps you should know that Dark does take Mortals as lovers very often. When one dies, he takes another. For what, I am not sure. But they waste their lives trying to please him. Do right for him and make him happy. When in the end, he cast their memory aside like an old toy.” 
The words were like droplets of ice water. Dripping into your mind and freezing it over. 
Was that all Dark thought of you? A toy for his pleasure and comfort? 
He was so charming and dedicated. You knew he couldn’t feel adoration, but you knew there was more than just lust beating in his chest for you. 
However, sometimes it did seem like you were the one doing all the work. Trying to make him laugh and pleading for forgiveness when you did something wrong. 
So easily swayed by his voice that it only took his words to make you a putty of obedience. 
You looked up at Author, your eyes burning with frustrated tears. You didn’t know what to think anymore. Was Dark truly some shark that went from Mortal to Mortal? 
He couldn’t be. You prayed it wasn’t true. 
“Send me back.” You said firmly. “I want to talk to him.” 

The real Author’s eyes hardened. The pen in his hand tapping with irritation. 
This was going to be harder than he thought. You were too trusting of that creature, mere doubts and fears weren’t going to move you away from Dark. 
So Author got to work, forming new thoughts inside your mind. 
The Author was just as greedy as any entity, and you were the prize he sought. Nothing, not even Darkiplier, was going to keep you away from him. 
With the words embedded, the copy of Author nodded and stepped back from you. 
“I won’t hold you here. But, (Y/N), think on your relationship with Dark. Being with him is not healthy. Your life will be left unsatisfied if you waste it trying to make him happy.” Author smiled softly and clicked his fingers. 
You were awoken by a searing hot pain rushing through your head. Like burning fingers were tearing at the inside of your skull. 
That same chilling voice echoed in your ears and you spun, scrambling from Dark as his eyes burned with hell-fire. 
Your mind played what Author wrote. Dark’s twisted being reached for you with yellow claws, howling for you in a way that made you scream. 
Terror bloomed inside you as your skin turned black as his fingers grabbed hold of your arm. Tearing yourself from Dark’s grasp, you sprinted from the bed. Bursting into the hallway but then collapsing to the floor as another wave of pain hit you. Warm drops trickled down onto your lips and you touched your nose, pulling your fingers away to find blood pouring from your nose. 
You hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and looking into the mirror. 
Your skin was crawling with black veins, blood dripping from your nostrils. Becoming worse as the pain increased. 
And when you closed your eyes, you saw Dark destroying Author. His shadows ripping your mind apart to rid of Author’s influence. 
You collapsed when the pain stopped. Every ounce of energy seemed to have left you. 
You were crying when Dark entered. His hand reaching for you, and you found yourself terrified by the thought of his touch. 
You pushed him away, crying out. 
Just as Author had written. The pain and fear he wrote you to feel, was now spreading through you like wildfire. Forcing you to tell Dark to leave. And Author watched as Dark collapsed outside the door. His own despair showing in his burning black gaze and the red and blue lines that splintered around his body. 

Author wrote himself into the bathroom, crouching beside you and opening his hand for you to take. 
“Come now, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said warmly. And you sniffled, looking at the hand with uncertainty. But after a moment, you took it and Author helped you stand. Guiding you to the door and you didn’t even hesitate as you stepped out of the bathroom and into a luxurious bedroom. 
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me.” You said with another sniffle. 
Author waved away your apology with a wave of his hand. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the blood from your nose.
“A blood nose would upset anyone, my dear. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.” He said smoothly. Kissing your forehead and moving away to fetch you a glass of water. 
“But I’ve never got them. I don’t understand why I did today. On our anniversary as well!” You grumbled sourly. Thanking Author as he handed you the glass. 
He crouched in front of you, taking your free hand in both of his. His smile was sweet and warm, eyes sparkling as they crinkled at the corners. 
“There’s a first for everything, (Y/N). But don’t worry; once it’s stopped we can finish getting ready to go out for dinner.” 
You nodded and sipped on the cool water. Smiling. “Thank you. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.” 
Author shrugged, “Well, you would have been eaten up by that suit wearing cretin at that bar. It was a good thing I was there to save you when I did.” 
You laughed and lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. “My knight in shining armour. I wonder what happened to that man. Dark was his name I think. Strange name. But then again, I am dating a man called Author.” 

(I’m just gonna leave that cliff-hanger there because I’m not a nice person. Hope you enjoyed!)



A/N: Hello everyone! This is the beginning of my new series and I hope y’all would enjoy it! Just some side notes, my OC is heavily inspired by Evangeline Samos of the ‘Red Queen’ series by @vaveyard , one of my most favourite authors, as well as the ‘MAMA’ MV by Exo themselves! This dystopian series has a heavy theme of feminism and gender equality, a topic which I felt needs more exposure! Enjoy, my babies, and remember to leave feedback when you’re done reading! x

Genre: Dystopian/Supernatural/Action/Smut in later parts

Word Count: 8825

Synopsis: In the land of Exotica, thirteen kingdoms reign. Thirteen different types of bestowed powers, thirteen different types of abilities, thirteen different types of gifts. In this world, everybody is bestowed with only one ability. So what happens when The Chosen One is discovered to possess all thirteen powers at once?

Originally posted by exoxoolf

‘Survival isn’t a race. It’s a dance’.

I, Princess Kwon Syona, was born with the bestowed gift of being able to manipulate metal. It’s a deadly power and I wasn’t always a master at it; in fact, I’d always struggled to accept it when I was younger, unable to comprehend the fact that such an unassuming young girl like me was gifted with such power.

Over the years, I’d observed with wide-eyed awe as metal pieces bent to my every will, creaking and groaning with a mere flick of my wrist. Steel knives slice through air whenever I command them to, aluminium foils twisting and turning into dangerous daggers and harmless silver jewellery morphing into weapons of my choice.

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His Heat || Youngbin

Group/Member: Sf9 Youngbin

Genre: smut, werewolf!Youngbin, knotting, 

Word Count: 1.6K

Request:Anon Can I get a youngbin smut pleaseee where you pleasure him and make him go crazy that he grabs you and goes wildddd thankyouu xxx

kingaegyo said:Hi! I would like to ask a smut fluffy scenario with Youngbin. Sorry for the bad english

a/n: this was hard since I got two Youngbin smut request so I added a small werewolf twist onto it. Hope its not to weird or bad!! I sent a lot of time doing this. 

Originally posted by armurx

You smiled giving a pose with the pair of fake dog ears on your head, fluffing them up at a bit to make them look cute.With a lace underwear looking rather cute and nice. Was Youngbin going to like it? you thought staring at yourself reflection. 

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A Brief Inter(ruff)tion

AO3 Link: Here
Written for: @spnkinkbingo
Square Filled: Puppy Play

Ship: Jared/Jensen
Rating: Explicit
Content Warning: puppy play, pet play, collars/leashes, breeding kink, knotting kink, knotting toys, under-negotiated kink, mild watersports, bathing, handfeeding, puppy!Jared, bottom!Jared, sub!Jared, top!Jensen, Dom!Jensen, smut, fluff, coming untouched
Summary: Jensen loves his long weekends. Mostly because it means he gets to spend most of the time playing with his pup.
Word Count: 3029
A/N: Tags are at the bottom, add yourself (link on blog) or send an ask to be added to my tagslist!

Jensen had barely set his keys on the table and kicked off his sneakers before he heard the familiar thud and scuffle of knees and palms again the floor of their apartment. Sure enough, Jared came bounding from around the corner, slamming into Jensen’s legs with a loud, sharp bark.

Jensen laughed, reaching down to scratch between Jared’s ears. They were fluffy and dark, blending in with his natural brown hair perfectly. His collar sparkled on his tan neck, a bright pink with gemstones and a shining tag that had his name on one side, and Property of J.A. on the other.

“Were you a good boy today?” Jensen asked. Jared barked again, running around his legs. The only other thing Jared had on, his dark, fluffy tail, attached to his ass by a thick metal plug, wagged and bounced when he moved.

“Alright buddy, I got some bills to pay, okay? You wanna be a good boy while I do those too?” Jared whined, rising up on his knees and pawing at Jensen’s crotch.

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Where Ryan and Gavin are a package deal before the FAHC

They’re a marauding rumour, notorious from coast to coast, the Vagabond and the Golden Boy; names that taste like blood. They drift from place to place in patterns no one else can predict, taking jobs that catch their fancy, leaving ruined bodies in their wake.

The Vagabond is the mercenary, oversized and unforgiving, a masterclass in brutal power. There are people who kill and then there are killers, and the Vagabond has never once implied that he didn’t enjoy his job. His disguise has become an icon, instantly recognised by any in the know, a shorthand imagine for grisly ends. The mere presence of the Vagabond sends a shot of dread into even the most experienced of adversaries, primal fear born from a flawless record, from his relentless drive and unmatched talent, from the way death bares its teeth behind his eyes. Only one has laughed in the face of the mercenary and lived to tell the tale, fondly and at great length.

The Golden Boy is the talker, the charmer, the irrepressible deal maker. He is blinding smiles and quick fingers, pretty knives and prettier lies. Getting into his good graces is a boon of untold fortune, but falling from them is a curse few survive. The Golden Boy’s shine covers a dark streak, an edge of something deeply wicked and always amused coated in false sweetness, in bubbling laughter and fickle affections, in deceptively clean hands. Smarter than he’ll ever let on the Golden Boy is always presented exactly how he means to be, exactly how he needs to be, and no one sees even a flicker of emotion he doesn’t intend. It’s easy to see his name in the visible affinity for precious metals but it’s more than just that; the boy is walking fortune, a well of good luck and perfect timing that never seems to run dry - like everything he touches turns to gold.

It’s an unusual partnership, their differences almost perfectly symmetrical; the shadow and the sun, the apparition and the vision, the reaper and the siren song. Cold apathy and vicious elation; a mask to hide emotion and emotions used as a mask. Alone they’d each be dangerous, together they are an unstoppable force.

Not that people haven’t tried. Not when they’ve made so many enemies, when the bounty on their heads could buy small countries and they serve no one but themselves. And each other. Their only perceivable failing, that inexplicable devotion, adoration between monsters. It’s not hard to spot, the ineffable way they’re linked together, a fond affection beyond any business-only partnership. It’s visible in the handles of Ryan’s knives, elaborately gilded in gold despite the utilitarian matte black of all his guns. In the medallion Gavin never takes off, differentiated from his other jewellery by the intricate engraving of a distinctive skull. In the way they look at each other, the way they talk to each other, the way they’ve both given up the protection of hardened self-interest in favour of vicious loyalty. Emotions so wildly out of place and yet even this is not the weak link it should be;  the two are rarely separated and never out of contact, responding to threats against each other with a far greater degree of horrifying retribution than is ever afforded to a threat against them both.

So many have tried and failed to understand their dynamic, attempting to pick it apart and unravel hidden weakness. Countless numbers who think the solution is to kill one, or the other; who’ve somehow gotten it into their heads that either the Vagabond or the Golden Boy is more valuable and the other is merely dead weight, easily replaced.  

There are those who claim the Golden Boy is the Vagabond’s pet; pretty and pampered and merely tolerated by the assassin, more temporary appeal than true partner. Those are the one’s who’ve seen Ryan huff long suffering sighs as Gavin grows restless, seen him adopt the tone of a frustrated parent speaking to an unruly child as he demands patience, wraps commands in condescending endearments only to crumble into indulgent acquiescence in the face of exaggerated insult. Who’ve seen Gavin spin traps out of words then fade into the background while Ryan does the heavy work, turning his nose up at blood and lamenting ruined clothing.

There are those who claim the Vagabond is the Golden Boy’s dog; boorish and fierce and above all obedient. Those are the ones who’ve seen Gavin command Ryan with a flick of his fingers, slink around the edges as his bidding was done and offer crooning praise when a bloody head is dropped at his feet. Who’ve seen the sharp violence of Gavin’s mind, the way he pushes for slower and crueler and more entertaining; seen how the Vagabond watches him with adoration in his eyes; a rabid animal tame only in the presence of a master with equally sharp teeth.

Ramsey is one of the few to see them as they truely are. To understand that neither rumour was true, that both were, that power flowed equally between the pair and neither could for one moment be thought useless without the other. To see that their connection was less weakness than it was violent strength, and realise that being forcibly separated would only make them infinitely more volatile. Ramsey noticed it all, and he wanted. He schemed. He sent out feelers, hints and suggestions and little incentives. An invitation in blood and gold and wicked chaos. In the only language they speak.

When the Vagabond and the Golden Boy sweep into town Los Santos goes still, holds its breath, prays to be forgotten. They’re not exactly trying to be subtle, stories pop up all over the city, a nightmare of violent shadows and polished gold but they don’t seek him out, so Geoff waits. Patient despite the way his hair stands on end, the way the back of his neck itches and he’s deafened by the relentless ticking of his own watch.  

It’s less surprising than it should be when they appear in the penthouse unannounced; they were invited after all, in a manor of speaking, and Geoff, ever the good host, narrowly prevents his growing crew from launching into a firefight he’s not entirely confident they’d win. The Vagabond looms, cold and unrelenting, demanding answers with tangible menace. The Golden Boy lounges, smirk as lazy as his eyes are sharp, all obnoxious comments and negligible threat. It’s a test. Geoff Passes.

Campaign Prompt:

The light is failing.

Not in a philosophical or metaphorical sense, not like good versus evil or hope versus despair, but in a most horrifying and terribly literal sense: The light is failing.

Each day, the light from the sun grows dimmer. Each time a lantern is lit, its light shines a little shorter. Shadows grow longer, nights grow colder. Even magical illumination seems to be losing its luminance. The world is marching inexorably towards a time of utter and complete darkness, and none can explain why.

Some are taking this in stride, namely the races possessed of greater vision than humankind (the elves are worried, the dwarves are scarcely concerned save for the growing lack of warmth, etc.), and the division of response is increasingly threatening to explode into a political division.

The party is conscripted by a very panicked council of philosophers to seek out the cause of this seeming apocalypse and, most importantly, discover if it can be reversed.

forget the birds, my love

Stanlon nursing home au where Stan’s suicide attempt failed and they all survived It. they’re now old men and Stan has bad dementia. after all these years, they still love each other. 1661 words.

Mike takes him to the nearby park to watch the birds every day and reminds him of their names. every time he does, Stan smiles in pure joy and writes it down in his notebook. his notebook’s almost full, the same names repeating through the pages. Mike doesn’t mind when Stan asks the names over and over. he tells him facts Stan had told him lifetimes ago, and Stan listens in happy wonder. sometimes, when they go, Stan asks him to dance with him. it’s a slow dance, gentle and careful, two old men swaying softly as one of them hums ‘Because’ to the other, brushing thin, silver curls out of his husband’s face. they love each other, even when one can’t remember why sometimes.


the nursing home is a quiet place where people come and go. sometimes someone will come in who seems so very familiar, thick glasses and buck teeth or auburn hair with an age induced stammer, and Mike’s heart will pull when quiet confusion dawns on Stan’s face, recognition unrecognised. sometimes he thinks Stan has forgotten their friends, but some days when they sit in the park Stan will start to laugh as he shares a memory of Richie or smile in wistful remembrance as he recounts the times Ben and him had stayed in the library until dark together, gently murmuring as they read. sometimes someone will stop by the home, missing half of an arm. Stan’s face flickers in the same uneasy look, and Mike gently pulls Stan away, suggesting they go to the park, to dinner, to bed. the newcomers always leave soon enough. it does no good to stir up memories that already haunt his love’s dreams. sometimes Mike will awake to quiet weeping beside him, and turn to see Stan’s delicate skin streaked with tears,  painting over the wrinkles with shining silver. unconscious murmurs of names, accusations, pleading, horror. Mike draws him close, presses soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks until he wakes, holds him while he cries. when he asks why, all he is ever answered with is a slow, sad, “I don’t know.” Mike does. but it’s okay. at least this time, when horror strikes anew, he can be there. he can save him.


it hurts Mike to see Stan slowly forgetting it all, even with the physical marks of the past stained on his skin forever. the first time Stan asks him where the lines on his arms came from, it takes all he has not to start weeping. but he continues. he tells Stan stories of their time with the others, reminds him of the days spent rushing around Derry on too-big bicycles, feeling as if they ruled the world. there are good days, days where Stan will sing with him as they dance, days where he’ll relate to him stories of when Richie decided he wanted to live and almost got arrested, days where Stan will tell him of birds Mike’s not yet see. those are the days where Mike feels as if his liverspots and arthritis disappear, where Stan somehow looks more vibrant and his skin looks healthy and young as opposed to old parchment paper. but the bad days come too, the days where Stan shakes his head in confusion at the mention of Bill’s name, where he’ll ask if Mike has heard from Patty lately (dead seven years and not a single letter since from Stan’s ex-wife), where even a common finch is a discovery. Mike doesn’t mind hurting. He just wishes it wouldn’t be over the fact that his love is unable to remember even the good, even their past together. He hurts for the time his Stan has lost.


one day at the park, Stan calmly lists the birds he sees, pointing them out to Mike. every time he raises his thin, slightly crooked finger to point at another ball of brightly coloured plumage, he squeezes Mike’s hand in his own, and Mike kisses him on the cheek. the sun shining through the leaves of the surrounding trees seems to shine through Stan’s papery, thin skin, the pale blue veins tracing through his arms and hands and neck seeming to glow. his face seems translucent, amber in the light. still, when he looks to Mike again, chuckling slightly as he points to a bluejay, his eyes are as warm and amber-brown as always, solid and sparkling. he can see in his lined face the boy he loved, the young man he married. Mike thinks now is the most beautiful he’s ever been. when they go back to the home that night, Stan speaks softly to him as they lay together in their bed. taking Mike’s hands in his own, he tells him of the first day he knew he loved Mike and how he’d felt so scared. the first time they had kissed, how he’d wondered at how rough Mike’s palms were yet how soft they’d been on his cheeks. the first time they’d danced, and he’d felt so giddy he thought he might faint. he presses his lips against Mike’s, raises a hand to wipe the tears from Mike’s face, kisses a salty droplet from his nose. Mike pulls him into his arms, presses kisses to the scars framing his face, tears running into Stan’s silver hair. When he finally pulls back, he smiles, and Stan kisses him again, and again, and again, as if they are children again, as if they don’t know what comes next. finally, they just lay together, a silent, warm embrace. Stan kisses him one last time, murmurs a returned love in his ear. When he sleeps, Mike doesn’t need to protect him. Stan’s rest is safe from nightmares, from monsters in the dark. He sleeps soundly, finally at peace, surrounded with only love. Stan doesn’t wake in the morning.


Mike somehow finds their addresses, sends them simple letters. ‘Stan is gone.’ somehow, they all come. the night before the funeral, they meet at a Chinese restaurant, the setting somehow familiar. Eddie comes first, steering a now nearly blind Richie to Mike for a five-armed hug, only a stump left of the missing sixth limb. Ben and Bev come next, Ben’s strong hug accompanied by soft tears dripping omto his shoulder. Mike leans down to embrace Bev in her wheelchair, and she giggles, accusing him of being a “still-perfect gentleman.” Bill arrives last sans accompaniment, the only trace of Audra in a closed locket that chills Mike’s collarbone when they embrace, sharing an understood sense of loss. they talk as they eat, banter and laughter and beeps filling the air. for a brief time, it almost feels as if they’re children again, together for this, as if they’re unaware of what comes next. at the end of the meal, Mike thanks them for coming, sad smiles spreading to all of the others. Stan would have wanted them all together again. as they push their empty plates into a small pile on the table, Ben speaks up, voicing the heavy topic they all felt hanging over them. holding Bev’s hand, he quietly asks if it’s time, if the circle is moving again. Mike nods, and says that it is. at least it gave them this long, though. the waiter comes, and Mike hands them his card, shooting away protests from the others as they set down a small plate of fortune cookies. though they may not agree on Mike’s payment for the meal, they all agree to leave the cookies untouched. the next day, at the funeral, they all speak, telling stories of the Stan they had known, a boy who laughed at odd things and obsessed over cleanliness and excelled at baseball and could name every bird in the state. they share their memories of good times, times that Stan would have wanted remembered, and after the wake, they share tears and embraces as they bid their goodbyes. as Mike embraces them, he considers for a wild moment asking them to stay, stay with him and fight, the Losers club’s last battle against age and fate and the circle. the Losers beat the devil, one last time. but he can’t bring himself to do it, to interrupt their lives once more. so he bids them adieu, and returns to the home, to a too-large bed in a lonely room. he lays down and he cries tears of sorrow and grief and acceptance. soon after the funeral, Richie calls, voice thick with grief as he explains that Eddie passed away, healthiest man they knew but for a nasty cough. Bill goes next in a bicycle accident, a fitting passing if Mike may be honest. his next flight is to Nebraska, to hold Ben as Beverly is lowered into the ground, winter fire extinguished by Ben’s tears as Mike embraces him. he thinks that it will be a while before he sees either Richie or Ben again, but Ben ends up having to board the next flight with him after a phone call from Richie’s cousin. after it all, they stand beside a freshly-covered grave, staring with wet eyes as a headstone Mike had never thought he would see. he puts an arm around Ben’s shoulders, and Ben pulls him into a hug, murmuring choked admittance that he thinks he’s finally ready. Mike chuckles softly through a tear-choked throat, and says that he thinks he is too. the circle waits for two old, old men standing beside a grave, perhaps allowing them just this time more. they finally pull apart, but Mike keeps his arm around Ben’s shoulder, for his comfort or his own he cannot tell. he imagines that Richie is there, that they’re all there, listening patiently through the ground and grass and trees, and he softly hums Because for the last time, a final serenade to his old friends. he’ll be able to sing it to Stan himself soon enough.

“All bets are off”-Chapter 1

Originally posted by awhoreslies

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Ship: Thomas x Reader / Reader x OC

I am not a native speaker so I had three wonderful people that helped me to get over my grammar troubles. Lots of love this time for @sarcastiphonix <3

If you like the story, please let me know! I try to upload at least every week.

Prologue (x)

Chapter 1

“Good boy“, I mumbled, laying my hand on the neck of the huge sorrel I was going to ride at the course today. The eyes of Valerosso were closed and he seemed to enjoy my hands that were resting upon his impressive body. "We are going to relax together after this, I promise. The odds on us are promising today, as are the bets.“ I told him. His rich chocolate eyes gazed calmly at me and for a brief moment I was almost sure he could understood me.

"Ally?“, Jim’s voice interrupted, startling me. I turned back towards the horse, speaking softly, "Do you hear that? They’re coming to get us now. Let’s get over this hurdle, I promise you, I’ll be with you the entire time“, I whispered in Valerossos ear.
"Ally, love, you’re late“, Jim blurted out, showing up around the corner, anxiously pacing.
I couldn’t resist it, I had to giggle. After all my years of riding, he still became so nervous whenever I was about to race. The worried young man with raven-black hair and handsome features had kept me laughing everyday for the past few years.
Compared to my own past, his life seemed to have always been just as pure as he appeared. You had to look almost microscopically close if you wanted to find his flaws but even then you were left with the feeling that he might be straight out of a fairytale.
I closed the gap between us, pulling my arms gently around his neck to give him a kiss.
"Keep calm, boy!“, I laughed, "This is my job! And with you, I have my own mojo! Nothing will go wrong!“
Naturally my statement was naive, why did the Lord feel the need to bless me with the greenness of my father? I shall never know.
But despite my own unjustified arrogance, not even the smartest man alive could have had imagined how this race would change everything.
Jim smiled lightly, placing his hands on my hips.
"I love you Alice Humber. And I don’t worry about the course, I worry about all those little fuckers that will try to take a look at you.“
"Oh, they won’t get the chance to take one look at me, I’m off the course like lightening once I’ve finished my race. That’s my structure. I train racing horses, I take the care for them and then I’m off! Would these eyes lie to you, Jim?“ They could. And they just did. Nonetheless, Jim smiled and was soothed by that answer.
I truly loved the man but there were things he would not understand. Of course, I never cheated on him but small talk was reserved for my business.
After the races you had to be seen to make an appearance in the lodge, new clients would come by themselves then. It was obvious that they were usually rich men who wanted an adventure. They all had to use their fickle minds to figure out that I only intended to ride their horses and not something else. Every one of them suffered from gratuitous arrogance and too much hair wax. Sometimes I felt like a whore when I had to dress myself up after the races. But to remain in the business, games had to be played.

I always took the dress, bundled up in the stable before and went directly to the upper class area for the necessary drinks.
While amongst those people I had to remember to repress my inner thoughts and feelings regarding them and their methods of earning money. The key was to constantly keep certain rules in mind while talking to them, acting as a mental bodyguard, concocted from my inner monologue.
Never be too interested in their offer, always remember your worth, make them feel like they need you to win, not the other way around.
It was almost like an echo of the voice of my father.

As I got out of the car heading towards the track, I could already hear the blare of the narrators. The stands were already filled by several hundred people, the rich distanced from the poor. As expected. Many people were still strolling around the course. Eager children with wide eyes ran across the alleys on their way to the stables. I remembered how enthusiastically I had been on my first visit, not knowing that I would end up in the position I am now.
The smell of the fresh cut grass filled the air and diverted the people from the stench smoke that poised their lungs in the streets of Birmingham everyday. The courses were a sophisticated magnet that pulled them away from the grey gaol they resided in.
I walked into the stables, changed my clothes and received Valerosso, who had been there awhile and was contently chewing on a carrot.
As I stood there, basking in the quiet before the storm, I caught a man looking at me. He stood in the door frame, both hands concealed in the pockets of his long black coat. A silver glint flashed menacingly in the flat cap he wore. He nodded my way and smirked as my face failed to disguise how unsettled he made me feel. 

"For fucks sake…“, I mumbled.
What the hell did this prick want from me? I mean, what could the notorious Peaky ‘fucking’ Blinders need?
It was obvious but I still tried to escape my thoughts.
Valerosso snorted and I was determined that I first had to do my job before allowing myself to care about other stuff.

The seconds before the start of a race are the worst. You feel the horses growing uneasy, nerves building as they realize where they are. A multitude of cheers from all directions yet all the jockeys focusing intently on the road ahead them. And then there comes a terrifying moment of silence. At least, for one minute, it feels like you’re in a world of your own. You notice how the horse sits between your legs, the animals breathing heavy and your breath catching up as you concentrate. So many thoughts run through your mind, voices calling out to you from within, a mirage of worry.
But at this moment it all means nothing. Because during it, you aren’t yourself. For this one moment, you are numb, and free.
And with the starters gun, you come crashing back down as the haze of anticipation clears from your eyes.

Third place was an adequate achievement for the young age and inexperience of Valerosso. But I found myself unable to celebrate my success. All I was thinking of was how I could leave the courses without falling into the path of any of the Peaky men. Grasping Valerosso’s rein tightly, I handed him off to the stable boys.
I picked up my walking pace, attempting to make a speedy exit without drawing attention to myself, but my fortune fell short.
I had strolled into a man with a distinctive black coat and flat cap.
"Damn it! You bloody bastards are everywhere…“, I whined.
"Oh, the rumors are true, you really are as charming as they say!“, he smiled at me in dangerous way and I knew it would be wise for me to keep my mouth shut from now on. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you, Mrs. Humber?“
I felt the goosebumps raising at my whole body. He wouldn’t hurt me, surely not in a public place.
I mean, if they wanted something from me, they needed me.
I told myself to remain calm and vigilant, breathe- just breathe.
"Never knew you guys had manners…“, I spat but regretted that directly in the next moment. Fuck, Ally! Why couldn’t I restrain myself just once in my life? "Seems like you don’t have any“, he replied but smirked at me. It was hard not to pounce at him for his insults. He was deserving of a few cutting words, he had effectively kidnapped me after all.
He took me to a classy black car, making an attempt to be chivalrous by holding the door open for me.
Perhaps I was hasty in my judgement. At least he had manners. "Would you kindly tell me, what the Shelbys want from me?“, I asked.
"They have an offer for you which you cannot deny.“
Oh. There were clearly two ways he could have meant that.
And I guess it was the Peaky Blinders way.

We stopped in front of an average flat in the Watery lane. I soon recognized it as the betting shop of the Shelby Family.
My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest within the following three seconds.
"Don’t worry, darling!“, he laughed at me when he saw my face.
I sniffed and got out the car, moving to his side.
He opened the door to the shop which was usually closed on sundays.
Apparently I was a special customer.
"Follow me“, he ordered.
It seemed to me I was in a central office. Different doors with names ordained on them marked the bureaus of the invincible Shelbys.
"Wait here“, the man said, opening the door at the end of the alley,
"Our guest is here.“
"Alright, John! Thank you very much.“
I heard scuffles and footsteps, followed by the sound of another man.

I’ll never forget the first time my own eyes reached his.
Ice-blue, allowing you to immerse yourself in them every time you had the good fortune to do so. There was, however, darkness contained within them, as if the light of life had ebbed from his gaze. I could only imagine how they would shine when he laughed. My vulnerability only increased when he entered the room, and I knew I was beginning to become involved in something much larger than myself.

Show Me (Part Five)

Welcome back!! Our boys finally get their date and Steve is head over heels in love. Bucky decides to share a secret and open up a little more. Sexy times ensue. Twice. NSFW near the end so keep an eye out!

Catch up with our boys HERE.


“So. Did Natasha put the fear of God into you while I was upstairs?” Bucky asked casually, and Steve’s eyes opened wide.

“She put the fear of HER in me. How is someone so small so scary?”

“Yeah I don’t know.” Bucky handed his menu to the waitress. “Burger, bacon, blue cheese. Steak fries.”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger with fries. Thank you ma’am.” Steve smiled up at her and she winked back, hurrying away with their order.

“So polite.” Bucky muttered, and Steve grinned.
Bucky looked…could he use the word edible?- in dark blue skinny jeans and a black v neck t shirt. His hair was back out of his eyes, and Steve could just barely see a tattoo behind his ear.

“So. Almost done with school, right?”

“I’ve got a week left. Finals. Then home free.”
Steve watched Bucky carefully. He was anxious, looking everywhere but at Steve, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table. “You’re nervous. Why are you nervous? We talk every day.”

“No, we text every day. There’s a difference. I’m just-” Bucky took a swig from his beer. “It’s nothing.”

Steve reached across the table and took Bucky hand, lacing their fingers together. Bucky eyes widened, and he glanced around to see if anyone else was looking.
“What are you–”

Oh that’s why he’s nervous. Steve suddenly understood. It made him a sad, that Bucky would feel like he didn’t want to be seen with him. Or seen with a guy period. But Steve was done caring about that, so he set out to prove it.

“Did you think I was kidding? When I asked you out?”
He tugged, and Bucky scooted  tiny bit on the bench. “Closer than that. Come on, I just want to be close to you.”

“That’s what you said. That night in high school.” Bucky confessed, moving farther down the booth.

“Yeah?” Steve asked. “Well it was definitely true then. More true now. Get your butt over here.”

“You know.” Bucky said once he was firmly pressed thigh to shoulder against him, trying to keep the giant giddy smile from his face. “one day I’ll drive you to swearing. No more of this golly gee whiz crap.”

“You want me to start swearing?” Steve laughed. “And why’s that?”

“Because I feel like the only way to really make you swear is to-”

“Here’s your food boys!” The waitress plonked their plates down, breaking the moment, and Bucky slid away to give Steve some eating room.

“You gonna finish that sentence?” Steve asked after a moment, eyebrows raised.

Bucky just grinned, and took a big bite of his burger.

Keep reading


There are many versions retold as the story of our creation. The beginning. There is one, however, that is playing on and on within each of us, renewed at every sunrise. Needless to say, it doesn’t ask for telling. It pours in feelings. Lingers in energies. Breaths with transitions of the skies and transforms along the passing ages.

For the beginning, Pisces was the End of something that might, or not, have been Something. But, as Anything, it had to end. Hence, instead of it, Another Thing began sprouting buds. Pisces was one, but occurred as more. When the time was good, night and day, Cancer and Leo, were made to glow and shine as two coins that will never see eye to eye. Once there was no more darkness, the first three earthly shadows were let to bloom. For fauna, flora and the obvious flow of the world, Virgo’s influence reached for the earth and grew greens, taught creatures what sensibility is.

After that, Capricorn raised the skeleton of societies. Buildings and associations. Gave a name to the matters as what we call now trade and work.

Taurus followed. With the necessary sense of self-preservation. With indulgence for when there has been done enough. With patience for this continuously growing world.

And when the material, the fundamental ones took care of their share, a new delegation was sent.

First of them, Aries, was the one bringing fire. Bringing light. Initiative. Conflict. Heroes. Fools. A flaming backbone to keep the people ever moving forward.

Next, Leo’s influence revealed that its spotlight was to be stepped on and not feared. Leo created a thirst for dramatic and luxuries. Showed that pleasure is necessary to enjoy life.

At least, Sagittarius brought curiosity and uncertainty. Sagittarius made maps for travelers and opened passages through lands. Expansion, so that the world will never fall asleep in old habits.

And when the spiritual, the inflammatory ones took care of their share, a new delegation was sent.

Aquarius had to found the world’s scientists. The activists, the fanatics and conviction. A vision for the future. Want for innovation in people.

Meanwhile, Libra took care to instill a feel of community, of togetherness amidst people. Taught the art of socializing and blending in. Of compromise.

Gemini provoked languages. The phenomenon of wanting to tell others what irks at the back of your head. Misunderstanding, too.

And when the mindful, the communicating ones took care of their share, a new delegation was sent. A last one.

Pisces, a guise of influence, shared depth. Ambiguity and confusion. Streaming waters and longing for what lies above.

Cancer built home. Told people that they don’t have to carry on only for the sake of evolution, but for their close ones and life itself. Cancer also coined grudges.

Finally, it was time for Scorpio to show that this existence had its explicit boundaries. And that there is a beyond. Scorpio confessed that it will never fully influence as others, but that it will wait, on the other side, as death omits no one.

With this, souls of one kind made out of everything started populating the creation. Unlimited, undefinable. Pulsing and circling the whole world as if searching for a singular source that they will never know it prevails as everything.

“Reasons why Lucifer is a victim” WARNINGS: this must be read in a philosophical way, not religious one. As I’m an atheist, I’m treating this as literature. I love Lucifer’s character as I love Hamlet or Faustus. So don’t call me Satanist or whatever =___= This is purely for intellectual delight. The dualistic battle between “good” and “evil” does not start with monotheistic religions. We can see that evil figures can be found in the Ancient Mesopotamian religion (Nergal), in the Egyptian mythology (Apophis, Set), in the Greco-Roman paganism (Chaos, Erebus, Tartarus, Discordia, Nemesis, Invidia), in the Norse mythology (Hel). The said dichotomy is very common in philosophy, religion, ethics and it was felt in the same way by different people worldwide. While they tried to explain, offer their point of view, or show evil/good in a religious way, everyone would destroy the evil and make the good shine. In a philosophical contest, evil was explained as absence of good, that was its opposite; but some philosopher would argue that both factors (good and evil) were essential to the universe’s unity (like the Taoist Yin, that can’t exist without the Yang and the Yang that can’t be without the Yin). The pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus stated that a war comes from opposites, but that this duality is necessary for harmony. He called this “logos” or universal law of the Nature. Later, Spinoza would say that “By good, I understand that which we certainly know is useful to us. By evil, on the contrary I understand that which we certainly know hinders us from possessing anything that is good” But what’s “good”? What’s “evil”? From a non-theological point of view, good can be explained as everything we do that does not harm others or ourselves, helping other people or living beings in the ways we can, respecting others, promoting peace and justice; while evil is basically the opposite: harming others (physically or psychologically), disrespect, injustice, inequality, in short, doing something we know it’s bad. Of course, every person has in itself its own way to explain them, following their own ethics, but, in big lines, this is it. Religions included the good/evil discourse and made it its ethical base, but also changing their connotations. To guide people, they would say to believe in Gods/God and be good, because, only in that way, Heaven would have been reached for sure. As we know, religious power had always been strong, along with the imperial one; what I’m trying to say is that their only power was in the people who believed. If there were no believer, every religious system would have fallen, and so their privileges, and they couldn’t let it to happen. So, often, they would brutally kill or force into conversion or to leave the country who didn’t conform. How did the king make his people follow the rules? By laws. How did institutionalized religions make people follow them and so maintain their power? By a God’s laws. Funnly enough, in the past, State and Religion were so much linked (though often in hostility too) that the King, the Emperor or the Pharaoh was considered chosen by God itself, and so, like a God on Earth. It was a vantage both for the ruler and the religious power. Things got harder and stricter when the institutionalised religion forced conversion on the countries they conquered: just think about the pagans (though they were in their own land), the Saxons, Jews, Muslims, Hindus or the Native Americans. (By Catholics). Examples of forced conversions can be found in religions like Judaism, Hinduism, Islam and Atheism too (though this one is not a religion, of course). It would be too long (I would say, impossible) to talk about how every institutionalized religion had always tried to keep control and power from their birth till now, so I’m going to leave it and reach the main point of my discourse. You will understand why I had to talk about all this before going to the crucial subject. The title was “Reasons why Lucifer is a victim” So now let’s see who Lucifer is and how his figure is portrayed in different religions. “Lucifer” means “the morning star”, “the shining one” (from Latin Lux + Ferre) and we find him first in ancient mythologies (in one of these he attempted to take the Ba'al’s throne, but, since he couldn’t do it, he descended and ruled the underworld.) As the name itself suggests, Lucifer is not a dark, obscure entity; he is something that shines like a star. In ancient and modern connotations, light has always been seen as something positive, something good; while dark as something evil. So Lucifer’s name itself says that he is no evil. - Christianity: in this religion, Lucifer is an angel, I may say, God’s favourite, and becomes “Satan” only after his fall. Why did he rebel? On what? Can an angel rebel? Let’s go with order. After the Creation, God asked the angels to bow to Adam; Lucifer did not, as he was an angel and Adam a human being. For this, he was eternally punished. (Though God is said to be compassionate, merciful, etc) Now, we know that angels have been created with NO free will, unlike human beings; so how did Lucifer “decide” to defy God’s order? The only explanation is that God simply PLANNED it. After the Creation he needed a Hell too (as people have free will and so a possibility to sin) and someone to “inaugurate” it. God created Lucifer in that specific way. After all, God is Omniscient and so he knows the future too. Lucifer was only a valuable, needed piece in his plan. And a victim because of it. Plus, in the Bible (and the Quran too), God explicitly says to bow to him only; bowing to Adam would have been too much for Lucifer, who could only bow to God. When the war started, some angels (always with God previously knowing) fought side by side with their brother Lucifer, but in the end, they were defeated and thrown down from the Heaven. Lucifer, must have felt so betrayed and wronged. He was the way he was and reacted that way ONLY because God created him that way. Also if he didn’t know that. Anyway, he found his newly discover (free will) appealing. Imagine of being a so old angel with no autonomous thoughts and then, suddenly, being awake. Being yourself. Taking decisions. Once he discovered this, he OFFERED (not tempted, but offered), the possibility to decide to Eve. She wanted to grab it too. Who wouldn’t have? (I would have lol). Plus, notice the name of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil. Ring something? Look at the name carefully. Basically God said it’s a sin to distinguish good from evil and so having a free will. ANYWAY God already knew it would have happened and he wanted it too. But Lucifer is displayed as the bad one and God as the victim and restorer of order and peace. - Islam: in Islam, Lucifer is called Iblīs (there is no consensus for the root the name: it can mean “devil” or “despair”) and is a Jinn (and so created from fire) elevated at an angel state by Allah. This version explains how he could have a free will, unlike the Christian one, as he wasn’t a true angel to begin with. His figure is already much darker than the Christian one. When Allah orders the angels to bow in front of Adam, Iblis says  "I am better than he: Thou didst create me from fire, and him from clay" and refuses to do so, just like Lucifer. And just like him, he respects God so much, that he does not prostrate before anyone else, than his creator, even if ordered. Iblis then asks to have mercy till the Judgment Day, which Allah grants him. In the meanwhile he would offer people “another way”. A REAL free will. (Because, where is free will in “if you don’t believe in me you’ll suffer for eternity”?) Also here we can notice how Allah already foreseen everything; he also brought a Jinn among angels to do so (as angels do not have free will). - Judaism: here there is “Satan” (which means “the adversary”) and we find references of his previous life as an angel with his brothers Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel and Michael. He is also presented as the being who brought death into the world, but that can’t be as God is the only one who can give life and decide for deaths. It’s simple to observe how it was NECESSARY a negative and opposite figure to God’s one. Lucifer was created with the only intent to make the Hell a place where people like him could follow. And, just as in a political campaign, God portrayed Lucifer in a negative light (when the one who created him this way was only him!). In the end, Lucifer was necessary, as in every religion or mythology there is the famous dichotomy good/evil, so I don’t understand why we should demonize him. A character who bravely decided, started a war to defend his right to think and act the way he wanted to and to not be a puppet. He is both a hero and a victim of a God’s absolutism and tyranny. As Milton wrote in his Paradise Lost (though this is REALLY taken out from context, as Milton was a Puritan): “Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven”’

Originally posted by strange-life-strange-world

Daughter of (Athena) Tony Stark Part 3

Okay here’s part 3.  I wrote most of this when I was suppose to be doing a book report so I hope you like it.  In the next Chapter were going to go through Iron Man 1 and 2 and maybe go the Camp Half Blood!  hope you enjoy.

SummarySofi Stark thought she had enough just being the daughter of Tony Stark, but now she also has the pressure of being the daughter of an actual goddess.  Not only that but now sh has this weird boy who has the same power and name sake of her worst fear following hear around.  Now she has to balance both her mortal life and her demigod life.  How can her life get any weirder?

back to the start

I grew up with a pretty normal childhood.  Well as normal as it can be when you have tony stark as your father.  He tried to keep me under the radar from everyone. For the first couple of months of my life the only four people knew i existed, Dad (duh), Pepper (again duh), my dad’s bodyguard Happy, and my own body guard Cole. Cole is a muscular man with really butch facial features.  He is 20 years older than me with messy brown hair that he always pushes back with his left hand.  He looks all tough and mean, but when he’s with me he’s very gentle and nice.  I always saw him as an older brother, somebody to look up too.  I use to often question him and my dad why would a baby need a bodyguard?  I got the same answer every time i asked it, “You never know what crazy person is going to show up a ruin our fun time.”  I also felt it was strange how young he was when he started working for my dad.  I mean what type of 20 year old gets a job guarding somebody of high importance.

I’m getting off topic.  The secret was out of the bag when i was 8 months old.  My dad’s business partner, Obadiah Stane or Orbie as dad called him, came bursting into our house demanding to know why Dad has not been in the office for the last six months.  At the time Dad was feeding me my lunch, and being an 8 month old baby of course this scared me and started me crying.  Dad glared at Orbie as he stood shock staring at me as i continued to cry.  “Tony what in the hell is going on here?” Orbie asked still in shocked.

“What’s going on here is you scared my poor, little, baby, girl.  Who just barges into somebody’s house yelling at people?” Dad asked getting a little defensive.  He turn his attention back to me bouncing me up and down trying to calm me down,” It’s okay baby girl.  Shh, shh.  Daddy’s here.”  After a few minutes I finally calmed down and was back to my giggly self, “Aw there we go.  There’s my little happy owl,” dad muttered down to me.

“Hey boss I heard yelling, is everything okay?” Cole ask coming down the stairs holding what appeared to be a regular broom.  At least that what it looked like to mortals.

“Everything’s fine Cole, we just have a very rude business partner who apparently thinks that it’s okay to just burst into people’s homes.  Go back to your break,” Dad told Cole who nodded and head back up stairs, “What do you want Obie?” Dad asked the older man, with an almost warning tone in his voice.

While this was all going on Obie just stood there shocked.  If this was an anime he would have had his soul flying out of his body.   He was finally pulled out of his shocked when Tony addressed him.  “I’m here because you’ve haven’t been to the office in 6 months, and you’ve barely send any of the paperwork you get back and when you do it takes weeks for you to do it!”  Obie asked finally comprehending that THE Tony Stark is holding and feeding a baby. “Why do you have a baby?” He asked not beating around the bush.

“This is my daughter, Sofi.” Dad introduced me shifting me so he can burp me.

“One of those one-night-stands finally caught up with you?,” Orbie asked laughing a bit. “Are you sure she’s your’s?”  He asked his voice losing his playful edge.

“I’m positive.  I did a paternity test as soon as i got her.” Dad said feeling a little offended that his business partner and family friend would think he wouldn’t check.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Orbie said putting his hands up in surrender. “She is quite the cutie though.  Can i hold her?” He asked holding out his hands.

“Sure just watch her head.  She’s still really young.” Tony said gently handing you over to his friend.

“Hey there Sofi.  I’m your uncle Orbie, and you’re just the cutest little thing, aren’t you?” Orbie told me in a baby voice, “Tony if she has even half of your looks and charms, you’re going to have to beat the boys away with a stick.” Orbie joke.

“Please don’t remind me, I just want to enjoy the time i have where i don’t have to worry about boys,” Tony groaned sinking into the couch.

“I wouldn’t count on that being so far away with that face Tony,” Orbie told him laughing as I started to grab onto his face.  “Tony real talk time.  You can’t stay here until she grows up, and you also can’t keep her hidden forever.” Orbie told dad in a serious voice.

“I know Orbie, but what am i supposed to do?”

“Introduce her to the public.  Let the media see you caring father side.  Then you’ll be able to take her to the office with you, and this would look really good the our clients and investors,” Orbie said going to sit by Dad. “Just picture it, ‘Billionaire turned single dad’, ‘Brilliant inventor working towards a better future for his daughter’, and so many more Tony.  You have to do this.” Orbie said getting closer to my dad trying to get him to agree.

Dad thought about it for a few moments.  If he did finally go public with you, he could get back to work to provide for you.  And then you can come to work with him, and he can teach you all sorts of things.  “Okay I’ll introduce Sofi to the public, but not right now give me until she’s one year old.  I’ll introduce her on her birthday, but for now i want to keep things as they are.” Dad saw that Orbie was about to protests so he added, “If you let me do this i promise that i’ll do better at this working from home thing.  I’ll sign paperwork, video call into conferences, and I’ll do interviews again, just let me hold this back until her first birthday.” Tony bargained.

“Okay, but you better keep your end of the deal,” Orbie warned.  Dad smiled wide and nodded his head.

After that Dad got better at balancing work with me.  He still spent a lot of time with me, but he set aside 4 hours a day for getting work done.  And he spent the rest of the day with me.

The 4 months passed in a blink of an eye for my dad.  Before he knew it was my first birthday.  Dad had planned an owl theme birthday, complete with a soft, gray, owl stuffed animal, I so brilliantly named Hoot.  Of course I couldn’t talk yet so I just called it Hoo.  Everybody my dad was close to was invited to that party. It’s how I meet Rhodey.  He ,of course, was shocked to find out his playboy buddy was a dad.   He looked down at the curly, dark, haired girl.  It’s as obvious that I got my hair from dad, but my shining gray eyes must have been from my mom.  The military man looked down at me, and smiled.  Rhodey knew that I would be good for his friend.  Dad needed something to keep him grounded, with me around he would have a reason to better himself as a person.

The party went great all of dad friends loved me and we all had a great time.  But like all fun things it had to come to an end.  Dad had schedule the press conference to introduce me to the world at 5 pm, that way I should be up from my nap at the time of the conference and awake enough to not be grumpy.  


Tony paced around backstage of the press conference.  ‘How will they react?  How will Sofi react to all the cameras and people?’  Tony wondered.  He heard his daughter’s giggled and looked up to see her playing with her new stuffed owl in Cole’s arms.  He knew that if became too much for her Cole would spirit her out of the conference ASAP.  Tony took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Hey it’s time to begin, are you ready?” Pepper asked walking up to her boss.

“Yahea, I’m ready,” Tony told her before looking back at Cole, “You know your cue right?”

“Yehea boss,  I come out with Sofi when you say ‘I would like you all the meet my daughter Sofi Stark,’,” Cole said doing his best Tony impression (which to be fair wasn’t that good) as he quoted the older man.

Tony rolled his eyes at the young man, before giving a nod to Happy to tell him it’s time to walk out.  Happy nodded back and pulled the curtain far enough back for Tony to get on stage, but not so much that the reporters can see the baby girl in the other body guard’s arms.  As Tony walked out onto the stage flashes of lights from cameras started to go off immediately.  Reporters  started to yell out question after question, like he was going to stop on his way to the podium in the middle of the stage to answer their questions.  Tony quickly made it to the podium and tapped on the mike three times to get the crowd to quiet down.  It was another five minutes before the crowd was finally silent.  Tony looked out into the sea of reporters and started to talk, “I would like to thank everyone who came out for this press conference,  I may or may not answer questions at the end of the conference so either way hold your questions till the end.”  The crowd laughed at what they thought was a joked.  “So anyway Stark industries have some major things in the works right now including a new missile that is in early stages of development.” Tony started to talk about all the things Stark industries was working on, stalling for the real reason why they were all here.  After about 10 minutes he ran out of things to say, he had no other choice than to make the big announcement.  “And there is one more reason why you’ve all been called here today.  The Stark family has gained a new member,” there were gasps of shocked throughout the room, “I know I know.  I would like you all to meet my daughter Sofi Stark!” Tony exclaimed making a grand jester with his hands to the curtain covered stairs where Cole was walking through with little Sofi in his arms.  The crowd went crazy.  Reporters started yelling questions, cameras were going off left and right, the room was in chaos.

Tony looked over to his daughter, and could see all of the commotion was upsetting her.  She was on the brink of tears and was wiggling in Cole’s arms.  “SHUT UP!!!” Tony yelled into the microphone, the room quieted instantly.  Tony looked out into the mob of reporters, “You are upsetting her.  She is just a little girl and is still scared of loud noises, so i will answer questions now, but one at a time and only those who are called on.”  After the final sentence left his mouth almost all the hands in the room shot up.  “You in the blue,” Tony called pointing to a woman in the front row.

“Is Sofi your biological daughter?  If so where is her mother?”

“Yes Sofi is my biological daughter, can’t you see the resemblance?” Tony asked getting a chuckle from the crowd, “Sofi’s mother was just a fling i had last year.  She drop Sofi off with me 2 months after she was born giving up all maternal rights she had to her.”  Tony finished the answer.  

This continued for almost a hour.  Tony would call on people, they asked their questions, he answer them.  It was all going well until he called on this one reporter, “I have no doubt that this girl is your daughter Stark, but are we to believe that you took her in out of the love of your heart?” the reporter asked malice clear in his voice, “How do we know that this isn’t just another publicity stunt?”

Tony saw red for a second, he took a deep breath and let out through his teeth, “How dare you say something like that.  I know I’m not the best human in the world but I would never stoop so low as to use my own daughter like that.  This press conference is over.  Any questions you may still have should be directed to our publicity department.”  With that Tony stormed off the stage, stopping to take his daughter into his arms, and give her a gentle squeeze, before continuing on to backstage.

After that day Tony rarely brought Sofi with him to press conferences.  It was obvious she didn’t enjoy all the attention and noise from people she considered strangers.  Tony started to bring her to work with him though.  It was very rare for Tony to be seen at the office without Sofi.  If she wasn’t with him, then she was either with Pepper, Cole, Happy, or Rhodey if he was in town.  


5 years later

Sofi had what she considered a perfect life growing up.  Sure her dad still continued in his playboy ways, but he did cut down on it.  Tony saved one night stands for special occasions, like big parties, or getting big awards, and only when Sofi was not with him at the event.  And on the rare occasion when he brought them back home, he made sure that your room was restricted for them to walk into.  One of these occasions happened February 12, 2009.  


It was 7 AM when woke up for the day.  I sprung out of bed and got dress in my favorite sundress, it was red with a gold belt that ended at my knees.  I knew dad was leaving today to go demonstrate one of his new inventions, and that he’ll be gone for about a week, so I wanted to make sure I got up in time to have breakfast with him.  After I ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth I rushed out into the hallway.  I made it to the living room/kitchen just in time to see Pepper shove a woman I never seen before out of the house.

Pepper turned around, spotting me.  “Good morning Sofi,  have you’ve been up for long?” Pepper asked bending down to my level.

“No I just wanted to make sure I was able to see dad before he leaves,” I said swinging my arms around, “Oh I also wanted to give you something!”  I quickly turned around and ran back into my room to grab the card I made for Pepper.  As I ran back into the livingroom/kitchen, I slid to a stop in front of Pepper holding out the card to her.  It was nothing fancy just a picture of her, me, and dad, all holding hands with the words happy birthday written over us.

“Oh I love it Sofi,” Pepper said pulling me into a hug.

“Is she gone?” Dad asked peeking out from another room.

“Yeah she’s gone,” Pepper said.  As they started I move into the kitch.

“Hello Ms. Stark should I prepare your usual breakfast?” Jarvis asked as I sat down at the kitchen island.

“Yes please Jarfis,” I answered still having trouble with the v sound.  

“Very well miss,” Jarvis said starting the program to make my breakfast of chocolate chip waffles, Sunny D, and apple slices.  

There was a ding to signal that it was done.  Dad walked over to hand me my breakfast.  “Jarvis make me the same with coffee please,” Tony ordered.  Jarvis gave his reply, then dad turned to me, “Why didn’t you tell me it was Pepper’s birthday today?”  Dad asked looking down at me.

“Because I thought you knew, you’re the one that told me how to write Happy Birthday,” I said digging into my breakfast as dad got his own.

“Tony you have to leave for the plane in half an hour or you’re going to miss your flight, finish quick and get ready,” Pepper told him.

“How can I miss the flight?  It’s my plane it’s not going to take off without me?”  Tony whined looking down at me.

“Yeah dad and Rhodey’s the only ones going why does he have to leave so early?”  I pouted crossing my arms over my chest.

“Sorry Sofi, but it’s a must.  Come on Tony,” Pepper said as dad finished his last bit of breakfast.

“Okay I’m moving I’m moving.  I’m sorry owl but we can’t put off leaving any longer.” Dad said giving my forehead a kiss.  Dad walked towards his room to grab his suitcase.  He walked back into the livingroom to give his last goodbye to me.  “Okay, it’s time for me  to go.  Now you listen to Cole and Pepper.” He said kneeling down to my level.  I nod to show I understand, “Good I love you Sofi,” Dad said looking me in the eyes.

“I love you too dad.  Do you promise to come back?”  I asked.

“Of course I’ll come back.  Don’t even think like that okay,”  Dad said looking into my eyes.  

“I’ll miss you,” I said jumping forward and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He hugged me back tightly, “I’ll miss you too.”

I let go of him as he left through the door.  If I knew what was going to happen to him while he was gone I would have never let him go, because this was the trip that turned my dad into Iron Man.

Tag List: @phoenixiax, @purplekitten30, @lets–be-honest, @superwholockbooknerd526

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could I have weecest, but like teen sam and hasn't grown taller or anything. And they're at school and maybe trying to hide it from the pupils but someone finds out. Thanks x I love your blog!!

Thank you anon! Sorry this took such a long time, I’m a horrible person.

“Sam! Hurry your ass up before I leave you!” Dean yells into the motel room.

He sighs and walks over to the Impala, running his hands along her sleek, black hood.

“Second most beautiful thing in the world,” Dean smiles wide, green eyes sweeping over the nice car.

“Ready,” Sam comes jogging out to the car in the deserted motel parking lot.

And there’s the most important and beautiful thing in his life.

“You’re so lucky we didn’t have time for a quickie this morning,” Dean smirks as he pulls his little brother against him.

Sam blushes hard and smiles shyly, 14 and Sam is still small and lanky. It’s sexy and cute to Dean all at the same time.

“Maybe at lunch, Dean. We need to get to school!” Sam squeaks as his big brother kisses wetly at his neck and grabs his ass with both hands, almost lifting him onto his tippy toes.

Dean just groans and releases him, slapping him hard on his butt as Sam walks over to the passenger seat. Sam might bite his lip and blush, push at his brothers chest, but he loves the attention he gets.

Doesn’t even mind it when Dean lays his hand high up on his inner thigh as he drives them to school.


They’re in Bumfuck, Alabama and it doesn’t matter that they’re brothers with an incestuous relationship, its the whole gay part that would bother most of the red necks in this small town.

The girls ate Dean right up when they first got here two weeks ago. Dean only smiled nicely, no intent. He talked without flirting and didn’t upset Sam at all.

Today is no different as they get out the car and walk down the pathway to the school. Dean doesn’t carry his bag around anymore, he’s not looking to pass, just looking to be near Sam.

“God, Sam. I know you love getting deep dicked every other day, but girls, man. You have to try them at least once, baby,” Dean leans low to whisper to him as they step into the crowded school.

Sam just rolls his eyes and shrugs him off. Dean nods at a group of girls in short skirts and they lick their lips at him. The freshman girls trip over their own feet at the sight of Dean.

Sam sometimes wishes he could show everyone that Dean was his, show it off. Have Dean put his arm around his small waist like he’s Dean’s girl (he is in a sense if the panties he sometimes wears for his brother is any indication) and kiss Dean in public.

Dean walks him up the steps to the second floor, the older boys hand brushing the youngers arm.

Dean jokes with him and a couple of boys, nerdy boys, for a bit. It makes his friends feel better that the new and cool boy is talking to them, that their new friend’s big brother is popular and acknowledging them.

“You boys be good in class, keep Sammy in line too,” Dean winks, ruffling Sam’s hair as the bell rings.

“Of course, Dean,” a boy named Devin says.

He eyes Dean with too much gusto, his eyes shine too bright, and his blush too dark for Sam’s liking.

Dean doesn’t notice and just pats the boy hard on the shoulder and Devin smiles shyly from under pretty lashes as Dean swaggers away.

“Jeez, your brother is so cool, Sam,” Devin sighs as the other boys go inside the class.

Sam grunts and pushes past the boy and into class where people jumpn to make space for him at tables. He just sits in the back with rest of the nerdy kids.

And Devin.

Dean doesn’t like leaving Sam alone in class for that long. Makes his skin itch fiercely. He knows that people sometimes bully his younger brother and lover.

“Dean Winchester?” Mrs.Collins asks.

Dean snaps back to attention and gives her a charming smile. A girl next to him laughs softly and he looks over into warm brown eyes. They don’t pull him in and he doesn’t try to pull her in either, but it happens without him trying.

Amanda. The name could roll of his tongue easy and smooth, but he doesn’t let it. He just looks away.

He doesn’t look to get close to nay on here. They’ll be here another week, tops. Dad is only hunting a werewolf.

He just looks forward to the night time where he can envelop himself in miles and miles of Sam. Can hear his lovely laugh, his adorable giggle. Where he can feel smaller hands run along his back and plump lips whisper against his ear.

Where he makes love to his boy and revels in the sweet sounds he pulls from that even sweeter mouth. Where he can fuck Sam in a number of different positions and his lover doesn’t complain, just begs and takes it in stride.

God, he loves his baby boy.


At lunch time, Sam goes looking for Dean in the gym. He’s usually there waiting if he isn’t out in the field or in the lunchroom.

The large area is seemingly empty and that’s when Sam starts to panic a bit.

“Dean?” He calls out, slipping his knife from his jeans, taking careful steps.


The voice makes him jump a little, he turns and sees Dean poking his head out from the boys locker room.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, jogging over.

“Picking locks and taking a few things,” Dean smirks, pulling Sam inside.

Sam just shakes his head as Dean lifts him up and walks with him to the lockers. He likes kissing at his brothers neck and sucking dark bruises there. Likes the feel of Deans skittering pulse and he gets to grind his growing erection against Deans stomach.

“Mh, always wanted to do you up against the locker, baby,” Dean sighs against his neck.

Sam giggles a little, “Then fuck me against the lockers.”

Dean shudders out a breath and kisses Sam with plush lips and a strong, wet tongue. Sam will never stop feeling so lucky.

Sam puts a foot firmly against the locker and tugs at his loose jeans, pulls them under his ass and Dean growls, nipping at his neck.

Sam lets him, sinking back down and rubbing his ass against Deans bulging cock.

They stay like that for awhile, Dean rubbing Sam’s ass raw with his jeans and zipper, their lips smacking loudly as they kiss.

Sam knows no boy in his grade knows how to do what he does. Dean has taught him well and Sam has learned a few tricks of his own.

“You know,” Sam starts as Dean fumbles with the button in his jeans, “I think that boy, Devin has a little crush on you.”

Dean grunts before answering, “Your little friend?”

Sam nods, smiling when Dean takes his cock out, long and thick. Dean hasn’t bothered to trim the hair down there and Sam doesn’t mind.

“Is that so?” Dean chuckles as he kisses up Sam’s neck, thumb rubbing his nipples through his shirt.

“Yeah, but I figured it was no harm as long as he doesn’t find out you’re fucking your little brother almost every day,” Sam pants as Dean nudges up against his already slick hole from when Dean ate him out and fingered him this morning.

He came deliciously hard on those skilled fingers.

Dean groans as he finally gets inside, cock jumping happily. He stops when he’s buried deep inside Sam, Sam sighs in complete content against Deans neck.

“Yeah, that would blow over well, ” Dean murmurs, hips thrusting slow and deep.

Sam closes his eyes and feels his body slide up and down the locker with each pump, his ass greedy and his dick leaking.

Dean gets needy after a couple minutes, breathing erratic as he covers Sam’s mouth. Dean is about to get a little rough and he doesn’t want Sam to be too loud.

“Oh! God, Dean!” Sam’s voice is muffled as Dean pounds up into him.

He squirms and writhes in ecstasy while Dean’s harsh breathing and slapping of hips echo out into the locker room. Sam shakes with the effort to keep quiet. Sometimes they make it into a game, see who can be the quietest.

Sam reaches between them to fist his dick, slow and tight thrusts. Dean smiles and removes his hand to kiss hungrily at Sam’s lips. Dean is going to come soon, Sam can tell by the way Dean can’t control his fast pace and the sloppiness of their kiss.

“Oh God, I’m about to come,” Dean says it like a blessing.

Sam rubs his thumb quick and fast over the head of his cock, his hole tightening with the over stimulation.

“Yeah, fucking love it when you do that,” Dean growls, pinching at his nipple hard.

Sam cries out, rubbing himself rough and fast even though its making his wrist ache.

Sam can hear the loud sounds his body is making against the lockers, the clanging, he thinks they should maybe–

“Are you two fucking serious?” A voice says.

He and Dean freeze, his dick twitching hard inside Sam and he can feel it, feel him. Dean is coming inside him, shaking apart, but his eyes are wide.

Sam turns to the side and see who interrupted them.

“Devin, what the hell are you doing here?” Sam hisses, stuffing himself back into the front of his jeans as Dean shudders silently through the aftershocks.

“I came looking for…” Devins eyes trail over to Dean who’s busy sliding out, his come dripping noisily out to the floor.

Devin watches with wide eyes and Sam doesn’t even bat an eye, just kisses Dean softly, knowing his older brother is still trying to put himself back together.

“You two are brothers for fucks sake,” Devin snaps.

“Like you really care, you just want to him to fuck you, too,” Sam snorts as Dean lets him down, pulling his jeans up and fixing himself.

Devin blushes hard at the comment, his red hair a sweaty mess.

“I’m telling everyone about this. This is fucking disgusting,” Devin shakes his head and turns to leave.

But Dean strides to him fast, taking the kid by the arm and slamming him against the door.

“You tell anyone and I will come for your whole family, you little fucking slut,” Dean hisses.

“What, you think I haven’t heard about you from the other senior boys. You give that ass out for free, boy. It wouldn’t be nice if your sweet sister–Amanda is it? It wouldn’t be nice if Amanda knew about you and your little escapades right?” Dean says a little too nicely.

Devin shakes his head no and Sam fixes his hair and his jacket before going to pick up his book bag.

“So, be a good little boy and keep your mouth shut for about another week,” Dean growls, shoving him out the locker room.

Devin runs all the way out the gym and doesn’t look back.

Dean just turns around with brilliant green eyes and a smirk.

“Now, back to what I was doing,” his brother says, dropping to his knees in front of Sam.

“Y-you don’t have to, Dean,” Sam whispers as Dean reaches inside his pants to grab at his still aching dick.

“But I want to, baby boy. Suck your sweet, little cock till you come all over my tongue,” Deans voice is rough and he strokes Sam.

His hands are big, so big and Sam already feels his orgasm right there in his damn balls.

Dean leans forward and puts plump lips around Sam’s whole length, he isn’t that big and Dean can fit the whole thing in his mouth.

“Oh, Dean. I’m about to come,” Sam whimpers, grasping at his brothers short hair.

Dean suckles harder, bobbing his head slightly. Sam doesn’t expect him to fit a hand in his jeans and slip a finger up into his used hole, pressing against his prostate.

“Dean, Dean. Yes!” Sam whines loudly as he starts spurting across Deans come.

His older brother sucks him hard while swallowing down his whole load, releasing his dick with a wet pop.

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes.

Dean just smiles up at him.

Turns out Devin tells everyone the last day they’re there.

Dean tells the rest of the school, Amanda, and happens to get a hold of Devins parents to tell them about his being a hoe.

Dean just laughs as they walk out the school, people staring, mortified.

Dean opens the passenger door for Sam, Sam reaches up and kisses Dean sweetly.

Dean is for him and him only.

Sorry for any mistakes!

Film Listesi

Yeşil Yol
Sil Baştan
The Perks of Beeing a Wallflower
The Others
Aşk ve Gurur
Requiem for a Dream
Beyaz Bant
A Beautiful Mind
Ejderhanı Nasıl Eğitirsin
Safe Haven
Silver Linings Playbook
Easy A
Now is Good
Usual Suspects
Into the Wild
Hunger Games
In Time
Big Fish
Sixth Sense
Kız Kardeşimin Hikayesi
The Godfather
Shutter Island
My Name Is Khan
Ps: I Love You
50 İlk Öpücük
V for Vendetta
Edward Makaseller
Umudunu Kaybetme
Black Swan
Kaybedenler Kulübü
Harry Potter
Aşkın 500 Günü
Forrest Gump
J'eux D'enfants
The Notebook
Şeytan Marka Giyer
Fight Club
Yes Man
Lord of the Rings
Karayip Korsanları
Demir Leydi
Terabithia Köprüsü
Pitch Perfect
Umut Işığım
3 Idiots
I’m Legend
Esaretin Bedeli
Life of Pi
Yapay Zeka
Modern Times
The Dark Knight
Star Wars
Toy Story
Sherlock Holmes
Resident Evil
Hotel Transylvania
Paranormal Activity
Kelebeğin Rüyası
Kuzuların Sessizliği
17 Again
Ajan Salt
Mr. Nobody
Alice in Wonderland
Pembe Panter
Azınlık Raporu
Slumdog Millionaire
Benjamin Button'ın Tuhaf Hikayesi
Da Vinci Şifresi
Total Recall
Kanlı Elmas
Kelebek Etkisi
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Ölü Ozanlar Derneği
Pulp Fiction
American Psycho
Kill Bill
Taare Zameen Par
The Truman Show
Little Miss Sunshine
Kaçış Planı
American Beauty
Otomatik Portakal
Jurassic World
Inside Out
Hector and the Search for Happiness
Midnight in Paris
127 Hours
12 Years a Slave
Catch Me If You Can
Good Will Hunting
Inglorious Bastards
Inside Man
12 Monkeys
12 Angry Men
Edge of Tomorrow
Dial M for Murder
The Man from Earth
The Thirteenth Floor
Source Code
The Mist
Seven Pounds
Fahrenheit 451
American History X
The Family Man