You think you’re doing fine. You go along with your life as if it didn’t matter. As if it didn’t hurt. Then suddenly, out of the blue, it hits you like tsunami waves, crashing mercilessly. Over and over again. Your eyes are dry but your heart is in pain. It’s crushing and breaking and tearing all at the same time. You miss that person. You miss that person for how they made you feel. For all memories, good and bad, they gave you. For the worry and the anger and the love and the care. You ponder for a second. You wonder if you truly miss that person, or if it’s just the loneliness speaking. Is it because you’re doing nothing now, talking to nobody that you miss that person? Or have you been missing them all along, it’s just taken you this long to acknowledge that? You’d like to think that it’s the latter but, really, it’s both. You’re constantly missing that person subconsciously. The loneliness only magnifies the longing. Everyday you’re fighting that loneliness. You try to overcome the sorrow it brings, but today just isn’t one of those days. Instead of wallowing, you look on the bright side. You remember the good that that person gave you. You realise that, although that person hurt you, you’re still grateful. That person made you realise things you didn’t know about yourself. How, when you love, you become a pushover. You’d do anything so as not to compromise what you both have. And you shouldn’t be like that. Not all the time. It’s alright to give in sometimes, but don’t make it a habit. You’re making yourself vulnerable. You learn that putting what you want first, isn’t always a bad thing. That if that person truly loved you, they wouldn’t put themselves in a position to lose you. Then, after all the thinking and wondering, your heart is kind of at peace…for now. Being able to release all this emotion, will greatly lift the burden in your heart. You’ll feel lighter. But it would be foolish for you to believe that it won’t come back. The heart is a fickle and finicky thing. But when it does come back, you’ll know how to handle it. You’ve done this before. Just remember what you’ve given and remember that loving yourself first is more important. Value yourself in the way that that person wasn’t able to do. Take a deep breath. Smile. You’re good to go. You got this.
back in season 3 Eskild sent this photo to the kollektivet group chat and what did Isak say “Don’t post it anywhere we’re not official or anything”
and as a live watcher i remember thinking “THEN WHEN ARE YOU OFFICIAL?” and ever since that chat and this photo I had been thinking…when is he going to post it. When is he going to become ‘official’
I half expected him to post it right before his season ended, almost as a “here i am and i am proud” photo but it didn’t happen.
of course we still got a boyfriend selfie, but it didn’t hold the kind of significance this one does.
This one was taken when Isak was still not ready to be himself yet
this photo represents him telling eskild to still hide it. It represents Isak hiding and not being proud.
the moment he shares it with the world is the moment he accepts himself and finally is P R O U D of who he is and who he loves
so now finally here we are. Isak has posted one of the photos taken along with the one above. People are asking “why an old photo? why not one of the many new ones i’m sure they have?….why not just take a new one?”
he is finally proud of who he is and it is official.
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn’t think he can fall in love. But every time he thinks of the way he’s around her, the way she makes him smile even in the darkest of days, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s wrong.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 2315
Warnings: Hmmm. Like the tiniest bit of angst. Drinking as a coping mechanism (not healthy, but this is Dean we’re talking about, so, you know…). And fluff, guys. So much fluff.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @supernatural-jackles Jen’s SPN Birthday Challenge. My sweetest friend, Jen, happy birthday (even if I’m a few days early) and thank you so much for letting me participate. I loved working on this one.
My prompt for this was a gif that’s inserted into the fic. The story is very much based on Chris Stapleton’s Tennessee Whiskey (which is the most amazing song ever and has Dean’s name all over it *cough* the glorious Jensen Ackles has covered that song and it’s a dream*cough*)
Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 because she is the best best-friend and writing guru in the world (and because she kept me sane these past few weeks). You’re the best, twin.
Thank y’all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3
had always liked bars.
He liked the way
they looked, deep mahogany booths and age-speckled lights making him feel at
home in places that had seen their fair share of stories, the way that distinct
scent of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey clung to his clothes afterwards, like
it was a piece of him.
He liked the inverted
bottles that were pressed along the walls, the beer and the whiskey and the
bourbon, and the way it burnt down his throat and made him feel something, anything, on those nights he was far
too numb and far too broken to believe he was alive in the first place.
used to be Dean’s poison and fuel anyway; it cleansed the impure parts of him and kept
him going when he felt like there wasn’t much to keep going for.
And then she came along.
Y/N waltzed into
his life years ago, when she’d shakily shot the werewolf that had kidnapped her
right in the heart, and, ever since that day, she’d somehow managed to wove
herself deep into the fabric of his existence.
Dean’s hurt, but not in the frantic, bleeding out right now way that leaves bloody fingerprints on Sam’s jacket collar and sick panic churning in his gut for days. This is much more mundane—a couple of sprained ribs they could easily deal with on their own, and a broken ankle Dean bitches about the whole two hours they spend staggering through the woods back to the car together in the pale predawn light, white-faced and hissing through his teeth. (Sam feigns annoyance, but in reality the sound is music to his ears. If Dean is complaining, it means he’s not hurt that bad, and everything’s gonna be fine.)
Setting the ankle themselves is a risky move if they want it to heal properly. So, hospital. Once they check in at urgent care—My brother’s ankle is broken. Hunting accident.—Sam sits through several more minutes of Dean’s whining, after which Dean promptly passes out in the hard plastic chair until a nurse comes to fetch him. He’s fine, of course, but getting thrown ten feet against a tree by an angry wendigo would be enough to exhaust just about anyone.
Dean’s in there for a long time while they take x-rays, set the break, and get him fitted with a cast and crutches. In the meantime, Sam hangs around in the waiting room; he drinks a couple cups of cheap watery hospital coffee, sprawls out in one of the chairs and plays around on his phone. He texts Jody to let her know the wendigo’s dead and burned, and Dean’s hurt but not bad, and they should be back at her place by tonight.
He’s dreaming of fantastic water pressure and a warm bed and absently scrolling through news sites for potential cases when a pointed dry cough interrupts him. Dean’s standing in front of him, leaning on crutches, looking pale and irritated but less like he’s in excruciating pain. He’s watching Sam with an expression of shock, dismay, annoyance, and intense disappointment. One of his patented older-brother looks.
Sam rolls his eyes, tamping down on the fresh wave of giddy relief that floods him at seeing his brother alive and upright again. “What?” he says flatly.
“Dude,” Dean says. “‘Everytime You Go Away’? Really?”
It’s only then that Sam consciously takes note of the tinny music playing through the waiting room speakers, and the fact that he’s been singing along softly. He fights through the accompanying rush of embarrassment, squares his jaw and looks up at Dean. “So? It’s not a bad song.”
Dean turns and starts hobbling away so fast Sam is surprised he doesn’t stumble. Wearily, Sam stands, stretches his stiff joints and follows after his brother.
Dean’s halfway across the parking lot before Sam catches up to him. They walk in silence back to the car together, where Dean begrudgingly allows Sam to take his crutches and help him into the passenger seat, a little unsteady from the pain meds they gave him.
Sam thinks that might be it, until he gets in the driver’s side and turns the ignition. Dean’s eyes are already half-closed and his head is lolling against the headrest, but he spares Sam a sidelong glance as the car rumbles to life and says, “You ever say anything like that again and you’re dead to me.”
“Hm,” Sam says thoughtfully. “Might wanna be careful what you say while I’m driving your car.”
Dean says, hazily, “You wouldn’t dare,” and then he’s asleep again, breathing deep and even and snoring softly.
Sam has been awake for more than twenty-four hours. Part of him wants nothing more than to pull over at the nearest hotel and sleep for a week. But Dean’s tucked up comfortable on the bench next to him, and he’ll be out of commission for a few weeks at least. There’s food and good company and a warm bed waiting at Jody’s, down the road. He’ll have plenty of time to rest when they get there.
(In the meantime, he switches the radio to an 80s soft rock station while Dean’s passed out, settles in for the ride.)
This isn’t some elaborate theory but more focused on the little things that I’ve side-eyed. Have you noticed when Alison got back, she’s been more lowkey and clueless? Some say it’s because Bethany (Alison’s twin) took Alison’s place while the real Alison is still lurking in the shadows. I highly recommend the in-depth theory of this idea which is a video on YT. It’s on the long side (an hour and twenty minutes) but it’s oh, so juicy.
However, I’m just pointing out things to go along with the Bethany has taken Alison’s place theory. The main points here is Alison’s sudden lack of knowledge that we’ve all noticed. Starting from when “Alison” just came back.
One would think that Alison would want her gang of girls to walk her during school because this is her first day back and she should have some kind of support system. But what if I told you it was because it was “Alison’s” first time being in Rosewood High and she needed her friends to lead her to places without seeming like she’s lost? Bethany has been locked up for majority of her life and with this new identity, she has to make it seem like everything is normal. Even if she has absolutely no idea what to do sometimes.
From there, Bethany has been continuing Alison’s identity through the journals she used to write. You know, the journals Alison kept so the girls could “continue her legacy”?
Bethany found the diaries and studied them front to back - memorizing every little detail so she could pull this off flawlessly. However, she couldn’t continue the nastiness that was Alison’s sense of ownership over the girls. That’s the difference between them. Alison feels like she’s a god towards the girls while Bethany cherishes the friendship. Isn’t it weird how throughout the early seasons of the show when Alison appeared to the girls in “hallucinations”, she’s acted exactly how she was before she “died” but as soon as she comes back, she’s completely different and less dominate? How could she be completely cryptic, talking to Aria in true Alison fashion one moment-
Then 3 weeks later (In PLL Time season 3-5a was A MONTH), be this completely vulnerable girl who is trying to stay lowkey and blend with the curtains?
The entire demeanor and aura has changed, it’s like two different people…
I also think this explains that weird thing that happened between Alison and Caleb in season 5. We all believed that maybe Alison knew Caleb from somewhere and they were keeping it hush, hush from everyone else. But maybe….that’s not it. From the journals, Bethany knew Ezra, Toby, and Paige, which counted for all of the girls’ romances but last time Alison was around, Hanna was on the thick side and had no romantic interests. Now, Hanna is with Caleb. And it made Bethany nervous. He was the only person she had no background information on and it worried her. This is why her guard was always up with him - what if he finds out about her secret?
(Even when Ali apologized to Paige, her apology was very basic. “I was mean. I’m sorry. For everything.” She couldn’t go into specifics because she didn’t know them. In that moment, it’s better to play the “for everything” card to be safe and cover all bases.)
However, although it was used as a blueprint, Alison didn’t write everything in those journals. That’s where Bethany had to freestyle. But sometimes, she wouldn’t know exactly what to say in certain situations. For example in 7x16 when Emily asked a question that she and the viewers have been dying to know since season 1:
Just when we thought we were going to figure out the reason behind Alison’s behavior towards Emily years ago, we get an “I don’t know”. That’s because Bethany doesn’t know why Alison treated Emily the way she did - she never wrote that in the journals. Even going into 7x18 with Emison’s intimate moment, “Alison” said she dreamed of them at the kissing rock. Did she really dream of it…….or did she read about Alison’s little idea and just went from there?
That would explain why so many Emisonians wonder why Alison never brought up their history with the kissing rock - it’s because Bethany doesn’t know it. Also, this sentence said by Alison was also a bit odd.
Emily and Alison escaping to Paris was a dream, something she had in Welby but her leaving? Where to? It can’t be her wanting to leave Rosewood because she made the active decision to stay while everyone else left so that brings us back to leaving where again. Alison did in fact leave. She left when she “died” - that wasn’t a dream but her reality for 2 years. But if this was Bethany, her wanting to leave Radley for so long……that could be a dream she had. A long-term fantasy.
This Bethany turned Alison change would also make sense why “Alison” has a soft spot for Charlotte. Majority of us and even the liars cannot understand the reason WHY Alison would pick Charlotte over the girls. Charlotte tortured them, trapped them in a dollhouse, almost killing them several times and all of a sudden, Alison is sympathetic because “she has a sister” and wants the best for her? Even begging the girls to testify for her release despite everything she has done to them? That was a slap in the face to everyone. The bogus idea of “this is my sister” is exactly that, bogus, and I believe the real reason is because Alison Bethany identifies with Charlotte. They have this sense of relation with being locked up like animals and now that she’s out, she wants to care for Charlotte and get her out as well. That’s why “Alison” kept pushing for the liars to help her, not really caring for their own trauma.
With the possibility of another set of twins running around: whether it being Alison or actually Spencer, there are some pretty interesting evidence stacked up against both of them. Alison specifically.
I think what I love most about Laurent and Damen together is that they don’t lose themselves, they become more like themselves instead. They become more like the people they were supposed to be. just because they’ve finally found the person who loves and accepts and sees them for exactly who they are.
Imagine: Pretending to be a man and joining the Night’s Watch, eventually causing Jon Snow to fall for you.
A/N: This was supposed to be an entry for @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen’s Disney challenge, it’s a Game of Thrones and Mulan crossover, however, I was not able to submit it in time because life got in the way, I still wanted to finish and post it though. A lot of this is not going to follow the plot of Game of Thrones, for example I know that Cersei doesn’t have a cousin named William, but I did what I thought would fit the story. Anyways, ENJOY!
Warnings: This is a Game of Thrones imagine so there is some violence!
Y/B/N = Your Boy Name (as in the name you choose to use to disguise yourself)
Another braid, another flower, you sigh as your handmaiden styles your hair, “Please stop moving Lady Y/N.”
“Why is this necessary Mary, I don’t wish to please Lord William or his family, I don’t even wish to get married, so why must I get ready for them,” You groan, you were the fourth child of House Y/L/N, and your elder sisters were both happily married, you however, were not like them. You did not wish to marry a nobleman and live a peaceful life of royalty, you had always wanted to be a warrior like your older brother.
“Your mother and father wish for you to marry Lord William. This will be perfect for you mi’lady, he is the cousin of the Queen, you will live a wonderful life.”
“Father and mother do not want me to marry him to give me a better life Mary,” Mary pins down your last strand of hair, then sits to face you with a confused expression on her face, “They want my younger brother Edward to marry William’s sister, and the only way the Lannisters will agree to that is if I marry William.”
You turn away from Mary, and look at your reflection in the mirror, “You know that that’s the truth Mary, I’d never pass a perfect bride, or a perfect daughter. I’ve always been the strange one, I’ve always been the daughter they wish they never had, and now’s their chance to send me away. If I were to show who I really am, I wou-I would break my family’s heart.”
“They love you very much mi’lady.”
“I’m not like my sisters Mary, I’m an imperfect girl, I can’t live a perfect life.”
“Y/N, mother is calling for you, the Lannisters are almost here!” Your sister called as she entered your chambers.
Mary urges you to get up, “We must go Lady Y/N, we do not want to upset your mother.”
Your family stood at the gates of your home, as the Lannisters approached. Your mother frantically looks around to find you, you rush down the stairs, praying to the Seven Gods to protect you from falling in your pathetic dress.
“There you are Y/N! Cover up those scratches on your arms!” You mother scolded, gesturing to the scrapes and scars on your arms from years of fighting, “And stand properly Y/N, you are a lady of the house Y/L/N for heaven’s sake!”
“Yes mother,” You sigh, pulling a shawl over your arms.
The Lannisters finally reach you, and one by one you greet each other. William approaches you and bows, he takes you hand and places a light kiss on it, “Greetings my lady. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you Lord William,” You respond, William is incredibly handsome, and any normal girl would feel insanely giddy if he greeted her in such a way, but you felt nothing.
The next few days go by, and you’re forced to spend time with William. It’s not entirely bad, he’s a very kind man, but you couldn’t be yourself around him. Your brother, Edward, on the other hand was really falling for William’s sister, so everyone was counting on you to impress William.
You were currently practicing your sword skills in the woods by the riverbed, hoping that no one would find you. You hear footsteps approaching you from behind, and in force of habit, you quickly turn on your heel and point you sword out, “Easy there!”
“Lord William! I-I…” You drop your sword, feeling at a loss for words.
“Lady Y/N,” He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts, “I did not expect to see you like this, I-I didn’t realize how…vicious you were.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Well, I guess it’s okay for you play around like this sometimes.”
“Play around?” You asked, feeling slightly upset by his choice of words, “William, I’ve been training since I was a little girl! I’m not playing.”
He chuckles, “Training? What would you need to train for my lady?”
It’s now or never Y/N, just tell him, maybe he’ll understand, you know he likes you! You sigh, “I want to be a warrior William.”
“W-what?” He looks genuinely confused, “You can’t be serious Y/N?”
“LEAVE. I WANT YOU TO LEAVE MY HOME AND NEVER RETURN!” You have never seen your mother so angry. William refused to marry you upon learning how you feel, and the Lannisters decided it would be best to leave. Edward was heartbroken, and the rest of your family refused to even look at you.
“Fine mother, I’ll go,” you spat venomously, “and I swear to you, I will never come back.”
You rush up to your room, and grab your knife. You stare at your tear stained face and slice off a strand of your hair, then another, and another, until all of it is shoulder length. You strip out of your horrendous dress and begin wrapping a long strip of cloth around your chest, hoping to make yourself look as flat as possible. You slip into your brother’s clothing and emotionally blackmail Mary into helping you escape.
You spend the next few days marching north, you finally reach the Wall and within the following week you have taken your vows and become an official member of the Night’s Watch. Your struggle, however, has not ended. Every night you go to bed relieved that no one discovered your secret, and every morning you wake up with the fear that today might be the day they find out.
You make your way out of the food hall, it was your first official day of training - up until now they were just trying to figure out what you were and were not good at - you were a good fighter, but apparently you weren’t good enough. You see the men gathered outside, you’re a few minutes late and from what you’ve heard, the trainer was not very lenient.
“And you must be Y/B/N, glad to see that you could join us,” He chided.
“I’m sorry,” You look down at your feet, he’s quite attractive…stop it Y/N!
“Since you clearly think you’re too good for this, take a sword and fight with me,” He throws the sword in your direction, and you catch it. The other men stare hungrily, waiting for the fight to begin.
He swings his sword at you and you duck away, you were good, but you’d never gotten into an actual fight like this. You hear a few men laugh, “Get him Snow!”
Snow? As in the Jon Snow, infamous bastard of Lord Eddard Stark? You heard rumors about him joining the watch, but you never thought you’d be fighting against him. He takes your moment of distraction, to punch you and throw you to the ground.
You sit up, coughing as you try to catch your breath, and you wipe a small trickle of blood off the side of your mouth.
“Pathetic,” Jon mutters, before deciding to continue with his usual lesson.
By the end of the day you were sore and completely out of breath, “Alright men, the last task of the day will be climbing. Everyone get your equipment and begin.”
You tilt your head up to see the top of the wall that you’ll be climbing, that thing must be nearly 100 metres high…bloody hell! You take your ice axe and strike the wall, it barely goes in, that would never hold. By the time you finally lodge your axe into the wall, most of the others are already at least 20 feet up. Determined to catch up to the others, you climb up and lodge your axe a bit higher. You’re about 10 feet off the ground when the axe comes loose. Before you know what’s happening, you go tumbling to the ground, you let out a feminine scream and groan when you hit the hard ground. As your vision refocuses, you see Jon standing above you, he gives his hand and the look on his face shows exactly how disappointed he is, “Get up.”
“I-I’m sorry! It slipped and…”
“Enough. You have no hope to become a Ranger, just leave Y/B/N.”
“But-” Before you can finish, Jon has already turned around and is dismissing the others.
No! No Y/N, you did not come all the way to Castle Black for this, you did not leave your family and future to become a steward! As everyone walks away, you march back towards the wall, take your equipment, and attempt to climb once again.
Night falls, and you are nearly at the top. A couple more feet Y/N, come on! Your body screams from exhaustion, but you continue. Finally, you reach the top. You sit on the edge of the wall and nearly cry from happiness.
The men who work the night shift circle the ground below you, and Jon walks over to speak to one of them.
“Snow!” You shout, “Am I still too pathetic to become a ranger?”
He stares up at you in shock for a moment before his face breaks into a charming smile, causing you to smile cheerfully as well.
“Men!” Jon calls everyone to attention, “A group of Wildlings have crossed over to our lands and are acting as a threat to our people. I will be leading a troop of Rangers to fight.”
You have only been training for a few weeks, and though you have become one of Jon’s favourites, you do not expect to be taken along on this trip, so when your name is called you’re taken aback but overjoyed at the same time.
The fight is in full force when you notice a Wildling sneaking up behind Jon with an axe in his hand. You rush forward and block the blow with your shield a second before it has a chance to hit him. Jon quickly turns towards you and shoots you a grateful look before continuing his fight.
Eventually, the fight ends. Most of the Wildlings are dead, and a few have fled. Jon walks over to you, “Y/B/N, what were you thinking jumping in front of that axe? You are the craziest man I’ve ever met, and for that I owe you my life. From now on, you have my complete trust.”
You smile at him, but your moment of happiness is short-lived, “Y/B/N! Watch out!”
You spin around to see what’s happening, and you’re met with a dagger to your stomach. You cry out in pain, and fall to the ground. With a swift movement of his sword, Jon beheads the man that stabbed you, and he’s instantly by your side, “He’s wounded! Get help! Y/B/N, hold on.”
You are woken up by a dull pain to the side of your stomach, you look around and find yourself in some sort of tent. You see the shadow of two people talking outside, and suddenly Jon walks in. You get up, and your blanket slides off your shoulders, Jon’s eyes go wide, you look down only to realize that you are in nothing but bandages that are tightly wrapped around your chest and torso, showing off every curve of your body.
“Jon, please! I can explain!” He looks away in disgust.
Peter, a man who’s hated you from the moment you joined the Watch, bursts into the tent, “So it’s true!”
He pushes past Jon and takes your arm, roughly dragging you out of the tent, he throws you to the ground as the rest of the men surround you, “I knew there something wrong with you! A woman!”
“My name is Y/N!”
He scoffs, “A woman in the Night’s Watch! This is treason! You’ll surely take care of this, will you not Snow?”
Jon looks down at you in disappointment, he sighs and takes his sword out. You look away, at least you get to die as yourself Y/N. He draws his sword back and drops it by your knees. You look up at him in confusion, “A life for a life. Now my debt has been paid.”
He turns away from you, “Jon…”
“Move out men!” He calls before mounting his horse.
You watch as the men recede in the distance.
“What did you expect?” You ask yourself out loud, “They’d see that you could fight, and take you in with open arms? Jon was right… I’m pathetic.”
You make your way back to the wall as it was your only way back home, when you hear two men approaching, “If they only knew, that was just the smoke before the real fire starts up. Those bloody fools will never know what hit them. We distracted the Night’s Watch long enough to get our people into the surrounding villages, their land will be ours in no time!”
You stand in shock, this was a part of their plan! I have to warn the Watch! When you finally approach Castle Black, you are met with disapproving stares and whispers. You walk up to a close friend of yours but even he turns away, “Matthew please, I must speak with the commander, it’s urgent!”
“It’s best if you turn back, you are no longer welcome here,” He says, the betrayal he’s feeling is evident on his face.
“Please, just…just listen to me. Once. Matthew, I’ve been living here for weeks, you’ve become one of my closest friends, have I ever done anything to hurt you?” He stares at you in silence, “Just hear me out.”
“Fine, but this will be the last time.”
“The Wildlings have planned to raid our villages, the fight that took place earlier was only a distraction. I’m going to help, if you believe, then please, send help,” With that, you mount your horse and head off towards the nearest village.
As you approach the village, you see a man holding an axe to a young boy’s throat. You slyly approach him, and point your sword towards his back, “Drop your weapon or my sword will go right through you.”
He laughs, “You don’t want to fight me girl, stand down.”
“I said, let the boy go,” You hiss venomously.
“And I said no,” With one swift motion, you push your sword through the man’s back, he cries out and falls to his knees, “You filthy bitch!”
Ignoring his final words, you crouch down next to the fearful boy, “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.”
“And we’re not going to let anyone hurt you either Y/N,” You turn your head to see Jon approaching on his horse, followed by Matthew and other men of the Watch.
“Jon, you came!” You smile.
He walks up to you and places his hand on your shoulder, “I was wrong to judge you Y/N. You are very brave for a woman.”
“Thank you,” You blush.
After you final fight in the village a year ago, you were sent back to your family. After hearing of your bravery, your eldest brother had decided to take you in, you trained and fought alongside him, and no one pressured you to marry anymore.
You woke up one morning and heard a familiar voice as you passed by the balcony. You looked down and so none other than Jon Snow talking to your brother. Blush crept up your neck as you ran down the staircase to greet him.
“Jon!” Jon and your brother turned to you with smiles, “What are you doing here.”
“As you probably heard, my father and brother, have been killed, I left the Watch and reclaimed Winterfell.”
“My brother has told me about how you bravely defeated Ramsay Bolton and his army, I meant, what are you doing here?” You ask, gesturing around yourself.
“I think it would be best if I told you Y/N,” Your brother answers, “Lord Snow has come here to ask for your hand in marriage.”
You blush harder and look down, Jon adds, “But your brother was telling me that you were not interested in marrying anyone.”
“I never said that!” You say defensively, “I just wanted to wait for the right man.”
Your brother chuckles, “So, are you saying that you would like to marry Lord Snow?”
“I-um-yes,” Despite the cool air around you, your face burns furiously. Your brother mutters something about how your mother would never believe the news, and rushes off, leaving you alone with Jon.
“It’s really nice to finally see you again Lady Y/N.”
Kurt Cobain sang Nirvanas song ‘school’ off of ‘Bleach’ and to Kurts surprise the audience knew every single word and sang along. This photo was taken immediately after the crowd applauded for Kurt for almost 2 minutes straight right before he began the next song. Apparently to the photographer and close friend Youri Lenquette, tears filled Kurts eyes due to joy. Youri claims Kurt considered this night one of the highlights of his career.
as all my jewish followers and friends know, we have a holiday coming up! the featival of purim is this sunday. purim celebrates hidden miracles and hidden beauty and hidden saviours. there’s a lot of hiding. that’s why we dress up!
i’m aware that the vast majority of gentiles and a lot of jews don’t fully know the story of purim, which is recorded in the scroll of esther, or megillat esther. the megillah’s my favourite story, and has so many amazing midrashim (bit like rabbinical fanfiction) that i study year round. this story, which is the story of how a young jewish woman saved our people from a genocide, has a lot of parallels with our current political situation in the u.s., so i thought now would be a great time to tell the story!
Request: Can I request a reader x casifer one shot where he and the Winchesters get injured on a hunt (the reader stayed behind to do research). And when they come back the reader helps patch them up but casifer gets very jealous that she is helping/touching/paying attention to the Winchesters?
Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, wounds from getting hurt, talk of sex, jealous lucifer, implied smut
“Please tell me you’ve found something useful.” Dean mumbles over the phone, sounding slightly drunk. You can hear people in the background talking loudly, indicating that they may be at a bar.
“I’m not finding anything in the books. I don’t know. You need to give me more time.” You groan, flipping to the next page of the lore books.
Sam, Dean, and Lucifer (who was currently preoccupying Castiel’s body) were out on a hunt. Lucifer demanded to be taken along, since he was a “viable member of the group.” They got to the place where the killings have been happening yesterday, and you know that Lucifer is driving them crazy. Dean has barely any patience when it comes to that man, and it’s leading to both him and Sam rushing you to figure out what it is that they’re hunting. They’ve only been gone one day and Dean is already overly annoyed with Lucifer.
“Just please hurry, alright? I can’t- I swear to god, I don’t even care that you’re occupying Castiel’s body right now, you need to fucking stop or I will stab you.” Dean hisses at Lucifer, making you giggle slightly. “Y/N, figure it out, or I’m making him stay with you while we do this hunt.”
“He’s not that bad. You need to be nice- he’s helping us with Amara, after all.” You roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see it. “But, yes, I will pick up the pace. I’ll call you once I figure it out.”
Migrants from West Africa are being openly traded in “public slave markets” across Libya.
As a departure point for refugees trying to get to Europe, migrants arriving in Libya from sub-Saharan Africa are particularly vulnerable due to a lack of money and little in the way of documentation.
Survivors have told the International Organization for Migration
(IOM) how there are slave markets and private prisons all over Libya.
Abdiker, IOM’s head of operation and emergencies, said: “The situation
is dire. The more IOM engages inside Libya, the more we learn that it is
a vale of tears for all too many migrants.”
One survivor from
Senegal spoke of how he was brought by smugglers across Niger in a bus
to the southern Libyan city of Sabha, where he was due to risk a boat
trip to Europe. When the middleman did not get his fee, the survivor was
put up for sale along with other passengers.
He was taken to a
prison where he worked without pay while the captors demanded 300,000
West African francs (about £380) before selling him on to a larger jail.
Livia Manante, an IOM officer based in Niger, said migrants would be
brought to a square where they were put up for sale.
Manante said: “IOM Italy has confirmed that this story is similar to many stories reported by migrants and collected at landing points in southern Italy, including the slave market reports.”
Those who did not get their ransom paid were often taken away and killed while others would die of hunger and disease in unsanitary conditions.
“If the number of migrants goes down, because of death or someone is ransomed, the kidnappers just go to the market and buy one,” Manente said.
The going rate for a migrant was between $200 (£160) and $500 (£400)
each, with many forced into captivity for months before they are freed
or sold on. So far this year more than 170 bodies have washed up on the
shores of the Mediterranean while the Libyan Coast Guard has also
rescued thousands more.
who go to Libya while trying to get to Europe, have no idea of the
torture archipelago that awaits them just over the border,” said Leonard
Doyle, chief IOM spokesman in Geneva. “There they become commodities to
be bought, sold and discarded when they have no more value.”
oK so i’m an absolute mess n i wasn’t sure how to take n this n i’m sleep deprived n it’s past midnight n i have a feeling this may be horrendous but it’s too late i’ve committed now
also this kinda became angsty?? but it get better i swear and i managed to avoid triggering shit so i guess there’s one achievement
Like most moments or conversations that hold even a sliver of significance, it starts on the roof. The autumn air is just cold enough to make skin hurt, just cold enough to be an anchor and remind them where they are, who they are, how things are - to stop them from sinking a little too deep into their own minds - and such sensation intermingled with that of each other’s presence is enough to leave Neil feeling so soft and safe he really can’t even try to suppress his smile as he shifts his body around to face Andrew, the crunch of gravel beneath him as he moves grounding him even more. He’s finally himself, finally able to smile at the notion of being completely himself, trying more and more to clutch tightly to that sense of self and it feels like flying, equally unequivocally freeing and undeniably terrifying.
Andrew’s eyes on him contrast the cool air, the gaze burning into his cheek as his left index finger reaches towards the other side of Neil’s face, digging into the flesh of his cheek hard enough to redirect his line of sight to Andrew. Neil finds himself once again trying to suppress a smile at the fact even Andrew Minyard wants attention sometimes, no matter how unconventionally he gets it, but this line of thought gets halted in its tracks when he hears the words “Yes or no?”
“It’s always yes with you,” is Neil’s default answer at this point; it comes slipping out of his mouth like a reflex. It’s enough - Andrew leans closer to him, his hands slide up to cup Neil’s face, it’s all very slow and sensual and the sunset makes everything feel eight times more wondrous and they’re so close he can see the blonde tips of Andrew’s eyelashes and even they are getting blurrier and it’s good. It’s really, really good.
But they don’t kiss. Their lips brush against each other and it’s uncharacteristically soft and warm and Neil’s just about to start applying more pressure even if it is against his better judgement when Andrew mutters “Stop saying stupid shit.” against his mouth before pulling back, leaving Neil cold and confused. And ever-so-slightly irritated, even if he knows he shouldn’t be and a horrible guilty feeling arises in his stomach at such a thought.
“We’ve had this discussion before,” he says boldly, eyes trained on Andrew’s as the hands on his face slide down to either side of his neck. “It’s hardly my fault that you can’t accept the truth.”
“I’m not the one with issues with the truth.” Andrew replies flawlessly, his face falling into a blank expression and his voice clear and bored all over again and Neil’s irritated at such a sudden regain of self-control and the recollection of such a topic again.
“I told you I’d stop lying to you. I promised.”
“And yet here we are.” Andrew’s hands slip away from Neil’s skin and the cold feels even more biting now, on areas that had just been almost on fire. He shifts until his body is facing the edge of the roof again, legs hanging off the side, no longer looking at or even acknowledging Neil’s presence - an easy indicator that he’s trying not to feel something for Neil again (his guess this time is annoyance).
“I’m not lying to you.”
“You are.” Andrew’s eyes map the sky. “‘Always’ is a lie.”
“‘Always’ is a word,” Neil snaps back.
“Words have meanings, idiot.” Andrew says, and it’s as close to acknowledgement as Neil knows he’s going to get. “‘Always’ isn’t trustworthy.”
“Why?” Something somewhere inside of Neil already knows the answer to this question, he thinks, but it seems necessary to ask anyway. He’s not always the greatest at judgement, apparently.
“I don’t trust you to say no.” Andrew replies, and there it is. Cards on the table. And now Neil finds himself turning away, legs hanging off the side of the roof and body facing outwards, watching the sky instead of the indeterminable expression on Andrew’s face, because it’s too much. Looking at Andrew is too much. There’s a horrible feeling rooted somewhere inside him that he can’t quite place but it feels like it’s about to consume him and there’s a lump in his throat. He wants to ask for more - for an explanation, but the words “I don’t trust you” have successfully rendered him utterly speechless. He remembers that feeling of smug pride that had filled him when his words had been enough to render Andrew speechless, and the thought is good but at the same time bittersweet. He can’t help but hope Andrew isn’t feeling that same sense of achievement.
Andrew’s legs are kicking, he notices, and it’s almost a good sign. There are parts of Andrew he can read like a book at this point, and kicking his legs puts him off balance. Enhances his fear. Makes him feel something. Allows him to claim any feeling his revelation has conjured up to be fear. Andrew may be unapologetically honest, but Neil had long since learned that this rule applied to everyone except Andrew himself. It’s one of his greatest flaws - as much as he won’t admit it, he cannot accept certain truths about himself, so he tries to find other ways to explain things, to trick himself into thinking the way he wants to.
He’s also a man of few words, thus Neil expects the conversation to end there unless he can find his voice again and prompt him to continue. He knows for now that they’re stuck at a stalemate, both of them too stubborn and too exhausted to try and continue such a tedious and meaningful conversation, and eventually the silence becomes much too raucous for Neil’s liking. He goes inside.
The conversation isn’t brought up again until they go to bed. Andrew is already lying down with a book in his hand when Neil walks into the room, nose wrinkling momentarily to stop his glasses from sliding down his face, and that single movement is enough to make all of his frustration from the evening dissipate, until Andrew shifts backwards so his back is pressed firmly against the wall and he pulls the covers out in offering, his eyes never moving from the book. That single movement is enough for all of Neil’s confusion and probably misplaced annoyance to come hurtling back, and even though he accepts the olive branch and slides in next to Andrew, this time he can’t hold his tongue.
“If you don’t trust me to say no,” he starts, eyes trained on Andrew to search for a hint of acknowledgement, to no avail, “then how can you trust me to say yes?”
It’s probably harsh, he knows that, but it’s a thought that can’t leave his head and he’s never quite been able to master the art of tactful speech - his form of tact comes in silence instead, usually.
Andrew places the book down on his lap, closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair and it’s the closest to a loss of control that Neil’s seen from him all day. His heart thumps a little louder.
“I don’t know if I can.” He replies, his tone not quite as even as he seems to have tried to make it, betraying the sense of resignation curled around the words. But it’s not enough - perhaps Neil is a junkie after all because he finds himself needing more, needing better, and he feels absolutely pathetic, but he says something anyway.
“But you have been.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Andrew’s response is so immediate that it startles Neil slightly. They’re facing each other now, lying parallel to each other and somewhere along the line Andrew’s taken one of Neil’s hands to play with his fingers and stare at, and Neil is finding it harder and harder not to get distracted. “But I do not know if I can trust you if I want to try something new.”
“Why?” Neil’s voice is softer now, hoarse and barely above a whisper, all frustration far gone.
“You have a martyr complex.” Neil opens his mouth to protest, but Andrew reaches the hand not currently occupied with his and places an index finger over his lips to shut him up. Neil kisses it without even thinking. “I do not trust you not to get too distracted by my progress. You think about my boundaries so much that I cannot trust you not to forget your own.”
Neil is holding Andrew’s hand to his mouth now, kissing his palm and sliding his own spare hand against it while Andrew’s other hand bends and stretches his fingers. For the first time that night Neil realises how intimate this is, how much trust every touch and every word possesses, and though he’s never quite forgot it, sometimes he doesn’t quite realise the extent of such a thing.
“I’ve never heard you say no.” Andrew finishes with, and Neil knows the hidden meaning behind that. ‘I need you to be able to say no.’
“I’ve never needed to,” he replies, kissing the tips of each of Andrew’s fingers, because it’s the truth and he knows that what Andrew needs is reassurance and honesty, so that’s what he’ll give him.
“Let’s make a new deal.” Neil finally suggests, and this, this, is enough to make Andrew’s gaze finally shift to his face again. And it’s good, feeling the glare of hazel eyes silently encouraging him to continue. “I promise to always say no when I need to, no matter what we’re doing. And in return, you can promise to always respect that no,” he states, quickly adding on the end: “not that I don’t trust you not to respect that no anyway but you’re the best person I know at keeping promises.”
He knows he’s said something right when Andrew’s face stops looking bored. There’s still no determinable expression etched into his features, but it’s no longer stuck in such a tight leash, instead appearing calmer and yet angrier all at once.
“I hate you.” Comes the reply, solid and reassuring as ever. “167%.”
“Is that a deal?” Neil simply asks, pulling on both of his hands so that he can hold both of his and Andrew’s close to his chest, a ghost of a smile hanging off the corner of his lips.
“Deal.” Andrew responds, leaning instantly forward and kissing Neil like he’s stuck in a desert and Neil is an oasis - everything he wants and everything he can’t have. Everything he doesn’t want to want. A pipe-dream.
can we talk about paschal for a minute i feel like we never do
ok I got thinking about Paschal when I started seeing a lot of similarities between him and Laurent
when he talks to Damen about Laurent’s relationship with Auguste in prince’s gambit he says
“’Auguste was straight forward: a champion, the heir, born to rule. You can imagine how Laurent felt about him’
‘He resented him,’ said Damen
Paschal gave him a strange look. ‘No, he loved him. He hero worshipped him, the way that intellectual boys sometimes do, with older boys who excel physically. It went both ways with those two. They were devoted to one another. Auguste was the protector. He would do anything for his brother’”
lets take a step back. Paschal is a physician, a good one too. He served Auguste and Laurent and is held in high enough esteem to not be left behind in Arles, but taken along with Laurent for “border duty”. His brother was a solider, and to be in the royal army he also had to be pretty good. So good that the Regent knew he would be close enough to the King to kill him. This probably means that Paschal’s family was pretty well off, if they were able to send Paschal to school to be a physician and for his brother to be able to train an become very skilled solider. So one brother excelled enough in school to be the royal physician, and one to be in the royal army.
One brother was smart and one was athletic.
Paschal tells Damen that Laurent hero-worshipped Auguste because that how he felt about his brother. Paschal knew how Auguste and Laurent felt about each other, how much they would do for each other, because he knows first hand. He also knows first hand how it feels to lose that brother. To lose the brother you looked up to your whole life.
Except Paschal has to live with his brother being the one to kill the King. The brother (if I remember right) was to be paid to kill the King. Does Paschal know that his brother most likely killed the king for Paschal? To help out his brother, at all costs.
(Another note, why would Auguste decide to go to single combat with Damen, who he probably knows is a better fighter. Is it because Auguste saw that they were losing, and did not want the line to be pushed further back to where only 13 year old Laurent was? Did he do it to end the battle as fast as possible so Laurent wouldn’t get hurt? again: “Auguste was the protector. He would do anything for his brother”)
So yes, Paschal most likely decided to work for Laurent over the Regent because he knew the plot the Regent had set up. He has the evidence and is smart enough to not get involved. But it wasn’t just that. Paschal decided to work for Laurent because he knew exactly what it was like to lose the person you loved the most. He decided to work for Laurent because he is basically what Laurent would be if Laurent was not royalty.