blanket fog

Her eyes opened and her mind struggled to form a coherent thought as she felt movement behind her.

“Nnnnnnggghhhh.”  Her mouth was useless, her tongue heavy and sluggish.

“If you’ve forgotten the count,” a voice murmured softly in her ear, the honey-sweet sound sending a shiver of pleasure down her neck and across her chest, “you may start over.”

Her eyes fluttered uncontrollably as she felt the bristles of the hairbrush press lightly into her scalp.  They closed again instantly when she felt the all-consuming tug at her hair as the brush began to pull its way through her thick tresses.  Once again she felt the heavy blanket of fog settling over her mind.

One…

Two…

Three…

Winter fog blankets the valleys of the Jim Sage Mountains at City of Rocks National Reserve in Idaho. Travelers on the California Trail described the rocks here in vivid detail as “a city of tall spires,” “steeple rocks” and “the silent city.” Today, this backcountry byway attracts rock climbers, campers, hikers and hunters. Enjoy inspirational scenery, exceptional opportunities for geologic study and interesting stories of the people who lived and traveled through this beautiful land. Photo by National Park Service.

Patater Week (Feb 7) - Proposal

(ao3)

It was supposed to be a romantic camping getaway. Instead, they’re tearing the campsite apart as fast as possible because the radio announced a freak blizzard on the way and snowflakes are already billowing down.

They manage to get everything in the car and drive out of the woods without they get stuck in a forming snowdrift.

Alexei drives, because they’re in Canada, the car is a rental, and of the two of them, he’s the one with an international driver’s license.

(”Can’t believe you have passport but not international driver’s license, Kent. What you do when you playing in Vancouver? Or Montreal?”

“I go back to the hotel after the game and I sleep.”)

Alexei is calm but Kent is scrunched down in the passenger’s seat, seething. Alexei thinks the glower is darker than warranted, but he does kind of understand Kent’s annoyance. The camping trip was his idea. A just-over-two-years anniversary trip, since their actual anniversary was in the middle of playoffs due to their having hooked up during All Stars weekend one time and managing to admit mutual feelings of “like” around the time they realized they might be facing off for the cup.

They hadn’t, but the Skype call regarding that issue had been enlightening, to say the least.

“Is okay, Kent,” Alexei says as the windshield wipers zip across his vision and the road before him turns increasingly white. “We try again, yes? Maybe go back out tomorrow, if weather clears?”

Kent grumbles and buries his nose deeper in his coat. He’s cold-blooded and gets chills if a cool breeze blows by. Alexei loves it, because it gives him the excuse to wrap Kent up in Alexei’s warm arms all the time. Now, he pats Kent’s leg. But Kent’s not having it. He grumbles again and says, “No way this’ll clear up by tomorrow. Next week, maybe.”

“So we re-schedule our flights home,” Alexei says. He takes his hand back, because a responsible driver always has two hands on the wheel. “Stay in hotel until snow is gone. No big deal—”

And that is the moment one of their tires blows out.

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The Very Bones Of You.

This is a continuation of Sonas/Happiness which was supposed to be a one shot but it had a fantastic reaction and actually this instalment will lead directly to another prompt I have received (watch this space!) So please enjoy my own version of events for early Voyager times - *spoilers for fans of the show only* H xxx P.S this is the first time I have ever written in Claire’s voice so please do bear with me if it feels a little off - I’m working it out :-)

I remembered a time in which the cold did not seep so easily into my bones, a time when my calves did not ache with the ascension of a single slope. I looked down at the grassy bank, just visible beneath the clutch of fabric in my hands and frowned. The grass, if it could reasonably be called grass at the length it was, had made various little nicks and cuts across my knuckles and for a moment I considered shrugging out of the woollen dress and continuing upwards in just my shift and stockings and bitter March wind be damned.

“Alright, Sassenach?”

I looked up, still grinning fiendishly at the thought of leaving the heavy garment to the elements and saw Jamie smiling back at me with a mix of amusement and pity. Clearly my laboured breathing had been more pronounced than I realised and I forced my trembling legs back into motion, lunging up the hill with a renewed determination.

“Of course, just … enjoying the view.”

The cheeriness of my tone and the vacant wave across the expanse of valley below us did nothing but cause Jamie to raise one arched red brow in my direction and hold out his hand.

“Let me help ye, lass.”

“Unless you mean to carry me …”

“I probably could. Ye’re a wee wisp of a thing! Did they no’ have proper food in Boston?”

Jamie caught my elbow as I huffed past him and helped me over a sudden rocky patch of earth, his own feet sure and steady on the uneven ground.

“Ha! Flatterer! They had plenty of food and I assure you, I ate plenty of it!”

I immediately regretted trying a form a full sentence as the air left my lungs in a rush of words and seemed to remain empty whilst I gasped, sweat prickling beneath my hair.

“Ach. Weel if ye did, I ken where it’s all gone.”

Jamie grinned with an exaggerated glance at my posterior. I rolled my eyes but didn’t have the energy for further banter. We crested the top of the hill and I all but collapsed onto the nearest boulder, mopping my forehead with my already sweat soaked handkerchief and grimacing. Jamie had settled on the ground before me, like a little boy in class ready for story time from his favourite teacher but his face was carefully blank – like Brianna’s before confessing to some naughtiness when she was a little girl.  

“So, we are now safely in the middle of nowhere - what is it you have to tell me?”

The element of surprise most often worked with Bree and sure enough, colour touched Jamie’s cheekbones that could not be put down to the cold alone.

“As a matter of fact there is something, Sassenach. I should have told ye sooner but … well. I should have and I did not and ye may hold me accountable in whatever manner ye please but I would ask that ye let me finish the telling before ye have your say.”

His head had been bowed but he looked directly at me as he spoke, his eyes fixed on my own and I saw both fear and love, each battling to outdo the other and I noticed that his hands were shaking.

“Jamie, whatever it is … I’m here. We’re here. We can tackle it together.”

He made a sound half way between a laugh and a moan and stood up, his whole body seemed to vibrate with nervous tension and my own leg twitched beneath me in response.

“What is it then?”

“I … Claire, I …”

He came and stood before me, arms held rigidly at his side and his gaze burning through me, furious and wild, his emotions barely contained and for the first time, I was afraid.

“Jamie, please…”

He nodded once, then twice and finally took a breath that drew his shoulders upward before releasing it slowly through his nose. I felt almost ready to scream, panic rising in my chest with every heartbeat but forced myself to stillness, waiting for him to speak.

“I got re-married, Claire. A few years ago when I was released from my debt of servitude in England, when I came back to Lallybroch and Jenny couldna stand my listlessness anymore… it was arranged and I was wed to a widow … and …”

Jamie had started pacing, gesturing with his hands when the words stuck in his throat but I could barely hear what he was saying. The wind seemed to howl around me, through me, blocking my ears and wrenching moisture from my eyes that I did not want to feel against my cheek. Everything seemed to sharpen into focus. The way the grey light of the sky above accentuated the deep bronze threads of his hair and muted the gold. How his shirt pulled against the powerful swell of his shoulders and his lips, slightly chapped with the cold, formed the words he spoke with a delicate precision. The rough feel of his hands on my skin as he cupped my face between them and his eyes, those beautiful, slanted eyes that he had passed down to his daughter, our daughter. Brianna. Oh Bree! To have put her through all that I had only for it to come to this …

As swiftly as thick grey blankets of fog engulf unsuspecting moors in winter, misery covered me like a shroud and I found myself too numb even to weep for all that I had lost and all that I had given away.

“Please say something Claire. I ken ye must be…”

I pushed his hand away and drew upon what little courage I had left.

“We don’t need to talk about it Jamie. If you could ask Ian or one of the boys to see me back to Craigh na Dunn…”

“NO!”

The violence in his voice shook the layers of shock cocooning me from the full impact of his confession but it was his hands on my arms that penetrated it, the sudden heat of him, and the feel of his fingers biting into my flesh. I looked away and closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of him. Mine and yet not mine at all.

“When we first wed, you were marrit and ye had to make a choice. There is no choice for me Claire, it is you. It has always been you.”

“Jamie, don’t …”

“Look at me.”

I kept my eyes shut and felt the air stir by my cheek a split second before the warmth of his palm settled there again, as gentle as a hummingbirds kiss.

“Look at me, damn ye Claire. See the truth of it for yourself and know what ye are to me, what ye have always been and will always be.”

“I can’t. If I look at you … if … I … I won’t be able to leave you.”

My voice cracked and broke over the words as Jamie lifted me to sitting.

“Please Claire.”

I swallowed and forced myself to look; I didn’t want to but something deeper than want compelled me to it and I moved on instinct for it was all I had the strength to do.

He looked tired and afraid and in the moment before I blinked, I saw his twenty-six year old self, sending me away to protect our un-born child, the same haunted lines of misery in the corner of his mouth. Yes there was love, as there had always been love. But I had been a fool to think it was enough to overcome all other disruptions of life for twenty years. I had been a fool to come back and expect it to all be the same.

“I should not have disrupted your life like this. I had no idea you had … I found no mention of a … a second wife in the history books … but I am glad you know of Brianna. You deserved to know about her.”

My voice shook again but held firm and did not break.  

“I am glad ye came back.”

“You shouldn’t be!”

I shook my head and slapped my hand against the earth in frustration.

“Jamie, you are married!”

“Aye! To you!”

“No … I mean… yes but …”

“You are my first wife Claire, the only woman I have ever truly loved and you think I would cast ye aside for a sham marriage that Jenny concocted? Christ!”

“It’s not about casting me aside! It’s about what is right!”

“THIS IS RIGHT!”

Jamie roared, his face flaming as the fire of his temper lit and caught

“You are my heart Claire! I love the verra bones of ye! Do ye ken what it has been like to live without ye?”

“Of course I fucking know! I’ve done the same as you and more! I raised your child!”

We were nose to nose, our voices raised and echoing off of the ancient stone around us, twenty years of hurt compressed into the clipped sentences we could manage to form coherently.

“Then dinna speak of leaving for I canna bear it!”

“You think I can? What would you have me do?!”

“STAY WITH ME!”

I could not say which of us started it, perhaps it was him, perhaps it was me, but we came together with the fierce and desperate longing that I had remembered from our parting twenty years before. It was not the cautious love-making of Edinburgh, nor the joyous coupling of our days since. We were fighting with the need to consume each other, the metallic taste of blood between our lips and teeth marks blooming from stark white to heavy bruised purple on collar bones. The slap of hands against taught flesh and muscles quivering with the assault of our combined efforts.

The salt of his tears stung the abrasions his teeth had left on my breast as I clutched him to me at the last, the colours of him exploding behind my eyes as my voice rose toward the grey sky above, the noise entwined with his own cry.

“Thoir maitheanas dhomh. Thoir maitheanas dhomh, mo Gradhe.”
 

Jamie’s voice was hoarse, his cheek pressed into the damp earth beside my ear. My fingers stroked the thick tresses of his hair almost without my bidding. The weight of his body pressed me into the earth, our joining an anchor for us both. I clenched my muscles and felt him move, an answering touch at the very core of my being.

“There is nothing to forgive, Jamie.”

“Whatever there was between us is there still Claire, do ye no’ feel it?”

I nodded. Whatever else was true, it was between us still, the force which had been powerful enough to survive war and starvation, even lift the veil of time itself. I love the verra bones of ye he had said and I knew it to be the absolute truth for us both for even separated by two hundred years when all that had remained of him was bones, my heart had pined for its mate and here in his arms was where I felt the most alive I ever had.

Turning my head to face him, I realised that the decision was not mine to make. To say good bye or to move forward was not a choice I had; for I had placed my bets and allowed the chips to fall as they may and I had won more than I had any right to dare hope for. Jamie was alive, I had found him, and we loved one another still. Now I needed only to gather my winnings and carry on.

“What do we do now?”

years .

Originally posted by chicamaddox

i’m incompetant and can’t seem to write anything good for the actress series so that’s still coming, but here’s something to hold you over for now :)

The early morning light is just growing strong enough to force through the slats of the white blinds in your childhood home, making the space feel warm and sending straight lines of yellow across the hardwood. You smell your mom making some bacon and can hear your sister’s sleep filled and raspy voice chat quietly, so quietly that you can hardly hear her over the sizzling of the bacon. The scene is very nostalgic and familiar, so you lean back into the hard chest of your boyfriend as his grip tightens on your sweatpant-covered hips, his mouth finding your shoulder to kiss quietly before leading you further into the kitchen.

“Morning,” your sister says, no infection to be found in her voice, just monotone teenage tiredness. You smile at her and kiss your mom’s cheek.

“Thanks again for letting me stay,” Shawn says as he slides into the chair next to yours at the table. “I just didn’t want to drive back in this snow storm.”

Your mom hums from her place in front of the snow. “Hmm, right. The snowstorm is why you slept over.”

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Sick of Losing You

Summary: I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me, so how do we win?

Word Count: 4.4k

Genre: angst, some fluff, song fic, 2009!phan, 2012!phan

Warnings: pre-smut, mildly implied past abusive relationship, explicit mentions of self-harm, depression, and suicide in some of the artwork, and GLEE SPOILERS!!!

A/N: So this fic was a wild ride that I wrote for three consecutive days whilst on a road trip with my family.

This whole idea with the phanart has been in my mind for a while, so I’m finally glad it’s coming to life! 

This fic is purely inspired by Dodie’s song Sick of Losing Soulmates which you should definitely check out because it’s a very beautiful song!

Also *cheeky spon* I made a sub-par cover to this song on my youtube channel which you can check out here!

I’d like to thank my wonderful artists who will be credited down below and also in each of their pieces linked to their corresponding scenes.

Artists (credited with their Instagram users):

  • dustyctrl
  • em.ilyart
  • kiyanaxoxo
  • draqonfruiit
  • artisticozone (mik)
  • amy.louise.art
  • krly.friezzz
  • vivian_art_13

Also thank you to Sam @crescendohowell who beta’d this fic for me! Once again, very amazing and helped me fill in some minor details, gaps, and random grammar errors here and there.

for bear.

Enjoy my lovelies <33


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Hymne à l'amour [ Min Yoongi ]

Originally posted by sunkissedhao

BTS MIN YOONGI | 6K WORDS  | ANGST + FLUFF

Summary: SOULMATE AU! This was how his morning came to be. He would dragged himself out of the bed and into the bathroom he shared with his roommates so he could wash up. Once he dried himself, he would lowered the toilet lid and sat on it while taking out a drawing pen from the bathroom drawer under the sink, the guilt never once stop gnawing at his heart as he traced his fading tattoo, thanking the heavens for giving him a talent in art. He would walk out the bathroom when he was done, feeling like a complete fraud, the same words ringing in his head over and over again. Min Yoongi was a fucking coward and a filthy liar.

A.N : Let me know what you think! Not really proof-read to there may be some mistakes  

REQUEST


Min Yoongi, despite his brash and straightforward personality, was a fucking coward.

 

He laughed quietly to himself as he picked up the fine-tip drawing pen and neatly traced the fading cursive words on his left arm with impressive precision, a painfully heartbreaking routine he had to put himself through everyday. He had done it countless times, too many times, he realized, when he easily pressed the tip of the pen on his skin without a single hesitation, his muscles remembering each strokes and movements as he covered the fading ink with a new black ink of his pen. How pathetic could you be, he thought, eyes fixed on the newly touched-up cursive name on his wrist. How many nights did he spend praying, to God he didn’t even know, hoping it would stay on his skin for the rest of his life? And how many mornings did he spend watching the ink wash away under the running hot water, furious at the universe for being so cruel to him? Didn’t he spend enough time suffering? Hasn’t he done enough for the world? How many bad things do one had to suffer through before they get to be happy? Was it the universe’s way of telling him he was fucked? Well, fuck you too. Yoongi scoffed and threw the marker back into the drawer, slamming it shut before he exited the bathroom.

This was how his morning came to be. He would dragged himself out of the bed and into the bathroom he shared with his roommates so he could wash up. Once he dried himself, he would lowered the toilet lid and sat on it while taking out a drawing pen from the bathroom drawer under the sink, the guilt never once stop gnawing at his heart as he traced his fading tattoo, thanking the heavens for giving him a talent in art. He would walk out the bathroom when he was done, feeling like a complete fraud, the same words ringing in his head over and over again.

Min Yoongi was a fucking coward and a filthy liar.

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8

After dinner tonight, Lindy said it may be a good idea to journal our thoughts about our first weekend living on the homestead full time. It’s an easy task at face value - I have a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Who wouldn’t? Yet, at the same time it’s a difficult task because time out here is best spent doing something necessary - it’s hard work living with no city sewer, water, or power. Time not spent working is time spent driving or time spent sleeping. Nonetheless, I write because if it’s worth doing - it’s worth remembering.

The days on the homestead start early. Nature’s subtle nudge out of bed comes in the form of frigid cold. Our temporary living arrangements lack the insulation of a modern home and I am reminded of that as I start the generator at 5:30 in the morning while standing in my boxers to prevent Lindy and the kids from suffering my fate by firing up the furnace. That task at dawn feels like my duty, and if I can provide my family with an added level of comfort beyond our somewhat primitive arrangement – then I have started my day a hero.

Mother Nature has ripped the covers off of me with her biting cold and for good reason: it’s time to work. The physical work around the homestead is far more enjoyable beneath the blanket of the morning fog. The midday sun is no time for shoveling gravel, moving boulders, or other homestead improvements.

Yesterday, I spent my morning trying to figure out how to move my large, heavy BBQ from one end of my property to the other without a truck. Today, I spent half my day trying to find clean water for our trailer on a holiday weekend. After a local business shelled out almost 25 gallons of water to me for free, I loaded it into Lindy’s 2007 Toyota Corolla that she bought back in high school and drove it down sketchy unpaved country roads to get it home. At last, we can bathe.

The evenings on the property come early as well. As soon as the sun drops below our west ridge, darkness sets in and the only ambient light is moonlight. The unfamiliar rustling of surrounding bushes and a lack of visibility urge us indoors.

Bedtime rituals with the kids are simple, but meaningful. A story by flashlight, a few minutes with a sticker book at the kitchen table, an animated recap of the day’s adventures.

Lindy and I haven’t figured out nights yet. We sit on the couch in the dark, tired and accomplished. We whisper our entire conversation because of the close proximity to the girls who are asleep in our family bed.

Tonight we talked about giving the kids a bath tomorrow and taking our first shower in three days and how to best conserve water in the process. We stink - but we don’t mind. Oddly enough, I just smell work and earth - there’s a rawness to that and yes, I am aware that I sound crazy. Tomorrow, we have big plans to locate a safe indoor portable heater and track down a more reliable water source.

I really think this lifestyle has us on track for something great. The mere fact that I am writing tonight, rather than sitting mindlessly in front of the television leads me to believe that I am correct in my assessment.

The clarity out here is tangible and I want more.

Bittersweet | jughead jones

Summary: Y/N is feeling bittersweet over jughead and Betty’s new relationship
A/N:  just getting back into the grove of writing
Triggers: angst 
Word Count: 563
Jughead x reader

Bittersweet is the only word you could use to describe what you were feeling. Truly even though you and Betty weren’t best friend you still thought the girl was sweet and thought she deserved the world as she just held a sweetness you thought only existed in characters in movies. But no Betty was the living girl next door, the girl your parents would approve of, the one person who could commit murder and you’d help them hide the body and even stand trial and defend her. Betty always smiled at you in the hallways, she’d lend you a pencil if needed and she’d even compliment your dancing in the River Vixens. But the sting of hearing from your best friend Cheryl that Jughead and Betty had starting dating hurt and yet you were happy, you knew that Betty would be the perfect girlfriend and yet you managed to start developing a hate for the certain Cooper.

“Well if it isn’t my little Vixen” Cheryl grinned hand on hip down at you. You rolled your eyes sinking further into the plush couch centred in the student lounge. “I see we’re still sulking about Jughead and Betty’s pre-marital bliss hmm?” she sighed sitting down next to you. “I just, Betty never liked Juggy before they joined the paper y’know. While I’ve been trying to get his attention since second grade by trying to write love poems for him” you mumbled picking at your finger nails. Cheryl sighed putting a hand on your shoulder “I know, life’s not fair and Betty certainly has got Jughead wrapped around her pretty in pink fingers but as an honorary Blossom you must know this dire rule-“ she grinned leaning close causing you to finally look at Cheryl’s face, her red lips pulled into a smile. Maple red? Huh? You thought She’s got something planned. “oh yeah what’s that Miss Cheryl Bombshell” you could help but smile back at her infectious grin “We Blossom’s get what we want and if you want Jughead that’s what you do. You. Get. Him” She turned serious looking into your Y/E/C eyes. “you’re so sweet sometimes, in a weird way” you squinted at her “and if you tell anyone I’ll deny it but for now bye bye little Vixen I have a certain boy who I must get to accompany me to the tree tapping ceremony” she grinned walking towards the door waving bye as she fled, her red hair swinging as she walked.

Brinnnnggg

Groaning you pulled yourself up for the couch and headed your way towards English class as you had to recite a certain poem you had wrote for a certain boy. As you stood infront of the class and had everyones eyes on you, you held your poem in your hands and took a deep breathe before your eyes laid on Jughead’s slouched form leaning on his hand to keep him upright. Breathing deeply you spoke “this poem is named Bittersweet;”

Out of the craven sky
the flow of molten bittersweet

– no purity in these
that catch your lashtips
as you wrap your arms 
around the blanket fog 
and breathe in dew
from distant mountaintops –

You gaze beyond my eyes,
beyond my tethered dreams
to pierce the wound that bleeds
with molten bittersweet,

And from these drops
a rhythm beats
‘til nothing more,

Only you
Only you

A handful of nifty changes, removals, and additions to Bloodborne based on its pre-release marketing (including the leaked Project Beast trailer).

Block move, which is no longer in the game (and neither are the offensively purple crow feathers). The Good Hunter in this trailer is also adorned with the Charred set and (I think) the Grey Wolf Cap. The marketed gear for the Good Hunter in the promo material from E3 2014 and onward would be the more simply named, and classy looking, Hunter Set:

Hunter mob models, while obviously cut from the same cloth stylistically, received a substantial makeover in the final release:

The blood sprays and decals look a helluva better now, and also the round cemetery in Cathedral Ward is populated by the giants instead of hunter mobs. Also, behind the gate you can spy a few garish green lamps; these appared to be INCREDIBLY common in the levels during the Project Beast stage of development. Fortunately they were cut and the visual composition of the game was majorly improved with nary a glint of green in sight:

The cliff side of Cathedral Ward once featured some more hideous green lamps and a partially-turned manbeast.

Even more comical green lighting is present. There’s SO much of it in this trailer that I wonder if there was going to be some kind of story or lore significance for it:

The Good Hunter impaling a ghostly sword into the base of a statue. As far as I’m aware no animation or action such as this made it into the final game.

A tease for one of the Chalice Dungeon bosses:

Enemies fought in a street or alleyway thickly blanketed in fog, sort of like the Shaded Forest in Dark Souls II:

Messengers popping up in Oedon Chapel, sans lantern:

Perhaps this was originally Laurence’s skull in the Grand Cathedral? If so, his remains were altered into that of a bloodied beast skull in the final game:

Another Chalice boss teased, this time the Abhorrent Beast/suspicious beggar. Damn I hate this guy:

I don’t recognize this wall/mural from the final game. Maybe someone else does?

The awesome staircase leading to the Grand Cathedral, still adorned with those creepy Amygdala statues:

Ebrietas, one of the primary hidden bosses in the final game, is shown here in the Grand Cathedral:

The Cleric Beast was shown being fought at night (and I believe this was the case in the Network Alpha too) although Yharnam does not transition past sunset until you beat Vicar Amelia and examine Laurence’s skull; it’s still possible to fight Cleric Beast after nightfall but you’d be engaging the bosses far outside the intended order:

The kick didn’t make it into the game :(

The worship area for the beasts at the bottom of Old Yharnam is shown here completely bathed in fire. It’s actually rather appropriate given the lore for this area, but was changed for the final game (or was only altered for this shot in the trailer). The swirling smoke and ash look really amazing too:

The double barrel shotgun didn’t make it y_y. Though I imagine this was folded into what became the Repeating Pistol:

Spin2win was a winning strat since the beginning, Kappa:

And of course, a stirring Demon’s Souls nod was cut; players who glitched over to the Father Gascoigne fight in the Network Alpha were met with this bit of dialog from him if killed. If he was defeated however, he dropped the Great Bridge Key, alluding to the door linking the Cathedral Ward to the Cleric Beast arena. In the final game there is no way to open this door (even though there’s a prompt to give it a shot from the CW side):

UPDATE:

One thing I caught after the fact was how some of the HUD and item icons changed, and the Hunter Bullet was changed to Quiksilver Bullet:

Also, some folks let me know of some mistakes/omissions, namely that the worship area in Lower Old Yharnam can be lit aflame, the foggy alleyway is the alley beneath the Healing Church Workshop, and that the mural highlighted in the leaked trailer is from deep inside the Chalice Dungeons.

Thank you folks!

Scared To Be Lonely

No smut ahead but mature themes, just so ya know.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Request-hello! can you do an imagine with stiles to the song “Scared to be Lonely” by Martin Garrix and Dua Lipa?
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
It was great at the very start
Hands on each other
Couldn’t stand to be far apart
Closer the better

When I moved to Beacon Hills, the first person that I met was Stiles, it was love at first sight for us. The moment my eyes locked on Stiles, my heart began to race and my thoughts were filled with him. Our sexy glances, our note passing in class, secret notes in each other’s locker, it took us both quite a while for us to talk to one another, both nervous that the magic would be gone as soon as we opened our mouths but once we did, we didn’t want to talk to anyone other than each other. Stiles and I spent all of our time together for the next few months, I went to every Lacrosse game, wearing his jersey and cheering him on like a supportive girlfriend. He spent almost every night at my house because his dad was always at work and we would always fall asleep in each other’s arm with a movie playing. He would give me sweet little gifts, stolen kisses in stairwells, laughter filled study sessions. For the first six months, it was perfect, like something straight out of a movie, we felt broken when we were away from each other, we only thought of each other, we only wanted each other.
Now we’re picking fights
And slamming doors
Magnifying all our flaws
And I wonder why
Wonder what for
Why we keep coming back for more

“I’m not perfect Stiles!” I shouted, glad that no one other than us were home. We haven’t stopped fighting over the past month, the whole pack knows something is wrong and so do we but we just can’t admit it.
“You think I don’t know that?! I’m not asking you to be! You want me to be prince charming when I can barely keep myself safe let alone you too!” He said causing me scoff and tug at my hair. Stiles and I went from deeply in love to fighting every second in less than a month and it was breaking my heart.
“I don’t want prince charming, I want the Stiles that I fell in love with!” I shouted, tears escaping from my eyes making him pull me into a hug and try to calm me down. We had both seen the worst of each other, I Stiles knew that I over think things, that I can be clingy and annoying while he can be obsessive, he takes the sarcasm too far sometimes, and he forgets that I’m even there sometimes but as much as we fight I don’t want to loose him.
Is it just our bodies?
Are we both losing our minds?
Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight
‘Cause we’re scared to be lonely?
Do we need somebody
Just to feel like we’re alright?
Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely?

Our fights always end the same way, sex. Sex was the one thing that was always great between us, when we have good days and we don’t fight we have sex, when we fight until we lose our voices, we have sex. We need each other on some level, even if it’s just sex. Stiles is everything I could ever want but somethings are unavoidable and it seems like when we are having sex, we avoid the realness of our relationship.
“I don’t want to fight anymore.” Stiles whispered as he held me in his arms while my head rested on his chest, one of my hands tracing patterns on his body. I just nodded, feeling the same way but not wanting to say anything, scared that it might start another fight. I took a deep breath before climbing back on top of Stiles, ready for another round.
Too much time, losing track of us
Where was the real?
Undefined, spiraling out of touch
Forgot how it feels

Over the summer before Junior year, Stiles and I lost touch, I was busy with Lydia and he was always busy with Scott. We exchange a few texts here and there but nothing too serious. Even with all the fighting, I missed him. I love Stiles and I know he loves me too, couples fight and spending the summer apart showed me that. It was the first day of Junior year and I was nervous to see Stiles, I wanted to see him, I wanted to hold him again, maybe it would be different this time, maybe this time apart helped us. The minutes I saw Stiles, he ran over to me, holding me close, making my heart race like the first day that I saw him.
“I missed you so much.” He whispered as I smiled and pulled away just enough to kiss him. God, I hope this would be different, real this time, maybe the fights were just a bump in the road.
All the messed up fights
And slamming doors
Magnifying all our flaws
And I wonder why
Wonder what for
It’s like we keep coming back for more

God, was I fucking wrong. We were back to fighting in less than a day, but this time it was a whole pack fight.  It was over college choices. Stiles wanted us all to go to colleges near by, hell it would be a dream come true for him if we all went to the same college. We didn’t want to hurt Stiles but some of us don’t even want to be near Beacon Hills after what happened with everything that has happened here. Stiles yelled at every single one of us before storming off and out of Scott’s house which I of course, had to follow him.
“You are supposed to be the one person that I am supposed to have in my corner no matter what and you sided with them! Why?! Don’t you want to save our relationship because I don’t want to lose you and I swear to got I want to be rid of you all at the same time!” He yelled causing me to sigh, he finally said both of us had been thinking for almost a fucking year. I walked over to a crying Stiles and cupped his face in my hands. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew what to do.
Is it just our bodies?
Are we both losing our minds?
Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely?
Do we need somebody
Just to feel like we’re alright?
Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely?
Scared to be lonely

Jeep sex, a few frequent thing we have, seeing as most of our fights occur on the way to investigate something or on the way back from dinner, a pack meeting, school, anywhere.
“We need to talk this out Stiles.” I said as we sat in the back seat of the Jeep, the windows fogged up, blanket wrapped around us. Sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels. Stiles is my best friend, he knows everything about me, my flaws, my worst memories, the best things about me and vice versa. I didn’t want to lose him, I didn’t want to be single, he was the only person I have ever person I have ever been with.
“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. As much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” He said making me nod and take a swig from the bottle.
“I want to love you, so badly.” I said making him kiss my temple and take the bottle from me. We have made it through so much to just throw it all away didn’t make much sense.
“I know you do, I want to love you just as much. I think we do love each other but not in the way we keep trying to.” He said making a single tear fall from my eye. He said what I had been thinking, we don’t want to lose each other but we both know being together is wrong. I don’t know what we are going to do but at least we had admitted it to each other.
Even when we know it’s wrong
Been somebody better for us all along
Tell me, how can we keep holding on?
Holding on tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely
Even when we know it’s wrong
Been somebody better for us all along
Tell me, how can we keep holding on?
Holding on tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely

Stiles has always been in love with Lydia, my best friend other than him, and I knew that. I began to love Scott without even realizing it, but too bad for Stiles and I, the people we loved, loved other people that weren’t us. I was in love with his best friend and he was in love with my best friend and him and I were forcing the love between us. We didn’t want to put ourselves out there when we had each other so instead, we went through the same cycle over and over. PDA, fight, sex, over and over and over again. Stiles was my safety net, he was where I went when I’m scared, happy, upset, but never lonely. The one emotion that scared us shitless. It has been almost to years of being together, we were starting senior year tomorrow and I was all alone in my room until I heard a knock at my door.
Is it just our bodies?
Are we both losing our minds?
Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight
'Cause we’re scared to be lonely?

Stiles walked in, crying harder than I’ve ever seen him cry before he was shaking, I didn’t know what to do. We hadn’t had a fight, so it couldn’t have been us that made him like this. I sat down on my bed and pulled him over to me, clutching him to my chest, letting him cry into me and hold onto me as if his life depended on it.
“I had a dream where we weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. No more fights, no more sex, no more trying to fix the love between us. I was beyond lonely, (Y/N), I never want to feel that way.” He said making me sigh and run my hands down his back, trying to just let me him talk and vent.
“I love you but I’m in love with Lydia. I don’t want to lose what we are and unless Lydia suddenly falls in love with me or Scott with you, we are all each other has.” He said just before I handed him my college admission paper.
“I’m going to college with you Stiles. Girlfriend, friend, hook up, whatever we are. Maybe in time we will become better maybe we will eventually be in love instead of just loving each other. I have hope for us Stiles, I always have.” I said causing him to look up at me with tear filled eyes, hugging me tightly and chuckling softly. We both knew our hearts belonged to other people but our bodies, our minds, were filled with each other and we were going to have to live with that and go through this together, because fighting with someone I love is better than being lonely and pining over someone who doesn’t think of me as anything more than a friend. Lonely or try to fix this toxic thing Stiles and I have? Looks like I better find some kind of antidote.

marissamon  asked:

prompt : " that's not what i meant and you know it " & " it's you, it's always been you " ( you can mix them together or separate)

I didn’t know where I was going with this when I wrote it, but I think I like it haha. Hope you do too!! 

Title: Damaged

Background: Living the life as a Serpent has split Betty and Jughead apart in the worst ways possible. Jughead was sent to complete a task for the gang that put Polly in danger and because of that, Betty has distanced herself from him to the point where they barely even speak anymore. As a result, Jughead is a little lost.

A/N: This is supposed to mirror the trailer scene in a way, but the angstier side of things lol. The song I listened to while writing this was I Need My Girl by the National.

I thought about it once, what it would have been like if I were to find that one person who made my heart ache with the prospect of unspoken promises and tongue-tied innocence. I never let myself think about that sort of thing - you know, the thing that might, on the unfathomable spectrum between luck and fate, lead to potential happiness.

But looking at her - sparkling crystals for eyes and a veil of hair so golden that you would have thought you were looking at an angel wearing her halo - it was hard not to fall head first into the void of naive uncertainty and hope that came with the burden of falling in love. I was lost in everything that she was the second I stepped into that Blue and Gold office that day. And from that point on, there was no going back. I needed her. I needed her more than I’ve needed anyone in my life, and that scared me more than any chill-inducing nightmare of ghost story ever could.

I realize now that I was selfish to feel this way. I was selfish to put her in the position of loving me. Because loving me the way she did, she was doomed from the second she kissed me back that day I crawled through her bedroom window. And her life has been damaged ever since. 

Betty shut the computer screen with a painful click, Jughead’s words still lingering behind her eyelids as she leaned back onto the beat-up couch in his father’s trailer, breathing in the scent of built-up dust and the pine scented air freshener plugged into the wall closest to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?”

Standing from her spot on the couch and spinning around to face a stoic-faced Jughead, Betty noticed his too-long hair and disheveled appearance that was clouded by the classic leather jacket he had worn like a badge of honor for the past few weeks, and silently wondered how this was the same gentle, vulnerable boy she had fallen in love with all those months ago.

“I heard you were suspended from school,” Betty told him, her voice suddenly seeming too meek and unsure of itself for the way his eyes were boring into hers - hard and insistent, like he was trying to push her away with just one glance. “Jug, starting a fire in the boy’s locker room? That’s not you anymore. I thought you were past all that.”

“’All that’ is who I am, Betty,” Jughead shot back, his features sharp and intense in the moonlit trailer as he took a bounding step in her direction. “It’s who I’ve always been. You should have figured that out the day I was taken in for questioning for the murder of Jason Blossom, maybe it would have saved us both a little pain and heartache.”

“I wouldn’t take back a second of our time together, Jughead,” Betty said without hesitation, reaching out a tentative hand and placing it on a leather-clad shoulder. “You were the first boy I ever loved.”

“Please,” Jughead scoffed, jerking his arm away from her touch as he crossed the trailer to stand in the center of the living area. “We both know that’s a lie. You were head over heels for our ginger-haired football god of a best friend since we were innocent tykes making mud pies on the playground.”

That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Betty mumbled, tucking a strand of pin-straight golden blonde hair behind her ear and drawing her eyebrows together as a wave of hurt and confusion overtook her expression. “You and I both know that what I felt for Archie never even came close to what I felt for you. What I still feel.”

Taking a brave step forward to close the gap between them, Betty tugged on Jughead’s chin to tilt it downwards to meet her eyes.

“I loved Archie, sure, the way a sister loves a brother or a friend loves a friend they’ve known their entire life.” Betty’s eyes were shining wildly in the dimly lit room, locked in on his gaze so that she was sure that he was hearing every word that she was telling him. “But I was never in love with him.”

Jughead could feel the walls beginning to crumble underneath the weight of her stare. He could feel her words beginning to resonate deep within himself. But he knew they couldn’t be true. He knew she deserved better.

“It’s not like it matters now,” Jughead mumbled, backing away from her touch once more and making his way into the kitchen, his fingertips grazing the countertop where they nearly made love before everything changed between them. “Everything’s too screwed up to ever be repaired enough for things to find their way back to what they used to be. We’re too far gone.”

“However far away you think we might be from who we were and how we used to be together, I need you to know that I’m always going to be there for you,” Betty told him. “And I will never be too far away to love you, every version of you, good or bad.”

“How?” Jughead gaped at her, his head swimming with so many conflicting thoughts and emotions, that he was unable to fathom anything she was saying. “How could you possibly love someone like me? Someone so broken and unsure and lost. Why would you choose to love me when you could easily go back to loving someone like Archie? It’s the way things should have been from the start. I know it, he knows it, and I think that deep down a part of you knows it too.”

“Don’t you get it?” Betty whirled around to face him, her cheeks flushing a red-hot scarlet as the anger began to bubble up inside her. “It’s you, Jughead. It’s always been you and it always will be you. No matter what happens, no matter how hard you push me away I will always love you. Always. And if letting me love you was selfish, then I’m the luckiest girl in the world because it was probably the most selfless thing you could have done.”

“I’m no good for you,” he whispered, his eyes prickling with hot tears as he felt his bottom lip quiver and the barrier holding him back from giving into her completely, on the verge of crashing down. “I’m toxic in the worst ways possible and one day it’s going to eat away at the very best parts of you. The parts that made me fall in love with you. I don’t think I could live with myself if that were the case.”

“I don’t care, Juggie,” Betty whispered, her hands reaching up to caress his cheeks, holding onto them desperately as if letting go of them would cause him to disappear altogether. “You have my heart, my soul, my everything. I told you once a long time ago that I know who you are and that hasn’t changed. You are Jughead Jones. And I am Betty Cooper. And we belong together.”

In one swift motion, Jughead hoisted Betty up onto the counter, just as he had the first time they were alone together in this exact same spot, his lips pressing into hers as they urgently moved from her cheeks to her neck and lingering on her collarbone. Without wasting any time, Jughead’s hand slid up the silky smooth skin of her thighs, nudging her legs open with his hips as his fingers creeped up to rest just above the elastic band of her underwear. Betty’s head slammed back onto the cabinet, biting back a moan as Jughead’s hand slid in between her legs, his fingers already exploring the wet-hot flesh that-

“Betty!”

As fate would have it, the banging on the trailer door caused the couple to pull apart for the second time that they had been in this position. If it had been anyone but Veronica on the other side of that door, they would have continued - Jughead’s hands remaining exactly where they were, moving only to explore her body more intimately. But the urgent tone to her voice and the frantic pounding on the hard surface of the trailer caused Betty to hop off the counter, pulling her skirt down and crossing the room to swing open the door.  

“It’s Polly,” Veronica breathed, her eyes wide with panic as she tried to catch her breath. “She went into labor about twenty minutes ago, but no one could get ahold of you.”

“Is she okay?” Betty asked, her heart beating a million miles a minute and her pink cheeks flushing a pale white as fear gripped every inch of her body.

“There were… complications,” Veronica stuttered, her voice quiet and uncertain and so unlike her own as she met her friend’s gaze with sympathetic eyes. “It’s not good, Betty. Come on, we have to hurry!”

Veronica led the way back down the path leading up to the Jones’ trailer, Betty following closely behind before stopping suddenly and looking behind her shoulder to wait for the one person who she wanted standing next to her through something like this.

“I’m here, Bets,” he assured her, lacing his fingers through hers as he hurried to catch up to their quick pace. “I’m here.”

Uncertainties lingered all around them. Were Polly and her babies going to be okay? Were Jughead and Betty going to be able to work past who they’ve been for the past few months and find their way back to who they used to be? But with all these questions echoing in the back of their minds and floating above their heads like early morning fog blanketing an abandoned field, Betty knew one thing for certain: Jughead would always be a permanent fixture in her life. No matter what life threw at them or where they ended up, it would always be Jughead by her side. And in that moment, that was enough to keep her from falling to pieces and disappearing altogether.

Hockey Camp - Auston Matthews (Part 17)

Auston Matthews x Reader

Word Count: 2211

Warnings: Minor swearing

A/N: Thank you all for being patient with me, I really enjoyed writing this bit, and I hope you like it!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16]

PART SEVENTEEN

This is it. The day has finally arrived. After weeks of training, of pushing yourself mentally and physically to the limit, after years of working towards and dreaming about this opportunity, you have your shot at being offered a contract for the CWHL.

You spring out of bed, trying not to wake a still-sleeping Steph, and quickly get dressed.

The morning greets you a little colder than normal, damp and overcast. A thick blanket of fog covers the entire camp, and you can hardly see a couple feet in front of you. You don’t mind the cooler weather, however. If anything, it energizes you, and you feel fresh as you walk cheerfully down the path to the mess hall.

As you’re heading around a curve, a large shadowed figure emerges from the fog. You stop dead in your tracks, unsure if a bear has accidentally wandered into camp. The figure moves closer, and you hold your breath. You’re trying to remember what to do in the event of a bear attack. Run? Play dead?

Deciding on the latter, you drop to the ground and curl up into a fetal position, peeking out from between your fingers.

But as the figure approaches, you realize it’s human - just concealed underneath a dark, baggy hoodie. As the person takes a step closer, you recognize the familiar tired brown eyes and chubby cheeks.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?”

“Jesus, Auston - you scared the crap out of me! I thought you were a bear,” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet.

“What?”

“You looked like a bear, coming from the fog out of nowhere like that. I was trying to play dead. At least, that’s what I think you’re supposed to do.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Of course your first thought would be to play dead.”

“Oh, shut-up.” You push him playfully. “It’s called survival instinct.”

“Yeah, I know - it’s called running and getting the fuck out of there.”

“No way you could outrun a bear.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he says, giving you a smug grin. “My fitness test results today will say otherwise.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Fine. Ten bucks I beat your agility score.”

“Twenty I beat you in the wingate test.”

“Mean or peak power output?”

“Both.”

“Cocky much?”

“Just confident.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay there, hotshot. We’ll see what happens.”

“Alright, just try not to cry when I beat you.”

“Oh, I won’t be the one crying, rest assured.”

Auston pushes open the door to the mess hall, stepping to the side. “After you.”

“Why thank-you,” you say graciously, walking through the entrance. “Winners first, losers second.”

“That’s not what I-”

But you skip ahead into the hall, not hearing the rest of his sentence.

After a light, nutritious breakfast (there were no pancakes today, much to Mitch’s disappointment), you and Auston head over to the parking lot where everyone has gathered. Some people are milling around, jogging or hopping on the spot to relieve nervous energy, while others look half-asleep, yawning like they just rolled out of bed.

You both find Mitch and Steph in the crowd, and stand next to them while you all wait for the coach to show up and give further instruction. Mitch is an energizer bunny, hopping from foot to foot, his blue eyes widened with a slightly crazed look to them. Steph couldn’t be more the opposite. She’s staring straight ahead with a determined expression. You know she won’t break focus until everything is over, regardless of how many bad jokes Mitch tries to crack.

“You guys ready?” Mitch asks.

“Yup,” you say as Auston nods. You’re both fairly calm, knowing there’s no reason to waste unnecessary energy stressing out beforehand. You take a deep breath in and then exhale, pushing out the nerves in your stomach.

“What do you think our first test will be?” Mitch asks.

“I’m not sure,” Auston replies, disinterested. He may be even more focused than Steph.

“I think it’ll be the plate jump thingy. Or maybe the anaerobic test? I just hope it’s not the bench press, because I like to warm-up my-”

“Mitch, babe - relax,” Steph says, placing a hand on Mitch’s arm. “They’ll probably do our measurements first.”

“Oh.” He stops bouncing for a second to consider this. “You’re right.”

The coach steps up in front of the crowd, calling out for everyone to quiet down. Several other men and women stand off to the side, all smartly dressed in suits or tailored skirts with crisp collared shirts.

“Hello everyone, and congratulations for making it to this year’s scouting session. I’d like to give a warm welcome to our panel of scouts and evaluators this year.” The coach motions to the people off to the side as everyone claps politely. He introduces each scout, taking the time to explain who they represent, and allow them to make a statement on what they are looking for.

A strong looking woman in a grey pantsuit steps up to speak into the microphone the coach passes to her. Her expression is blase, her eyes cold and serious. “Hello everyone, my name is Catherine, and I am representing the CWHL. Today, my fellow associates and I are looking for a well-rounded player that will bring aspects of leadership both on and off the ice, particularly someone who leads by example, and who has a passion for the game that surpasses everything else.”

Auston nudges your arm. “She basically just described you,” he whispers.

“No, she didn’t,” you deny, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Sure. You can keep lying to yourself, Y/N, but you know you’re going to make the Toronto Furies.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Alright, I get that - but I truly believe that you’re going to make it.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

You smile softly at him, leaning your head against his shoulder and relaxing into him as the rest of the scouts make their statements.

You stay with Auston all the way until you get to the arena, where they split you up into boys and girls, shuttling you to opposite ends of the rink. They’ve taken out the ice from one of the arena’s pads, leaving space for stationary bikes, jump plates, long jump pits and other various fitness equipment to be placed out along the concrete floor.

You check in with one of the many officials wearing red shirts and lanyards, and she directs you over to the measurement centre. You’ve given a shirt with the number 23 on it, and you slip it on and line up behind a girl wearing number 22.

When it’s your turn, they ask you to stand against the wall, barefoot with your heels together and arms spread, measuring your wingspan and height.

Once they’ve gathered your data, you move on to the next section - the pull-up station. You stretch your arms while you wait, looking around at everyone else. William catches your eye from across the rink and smiles nervously.

“Good luck,” you mouth to him. He nods and gives you a thumbs up in return.

“Y/L/N, Y/N,” one of the official calls your name, and you step up onto the box, positioning your hands along the bar. Your eyes slip to the scouts panel, where Catherine from the CWHL is staring at you intently. You nod your head slightly at her, before shifting your feet up off the box and beginning to pull your body up and down, your arms straining with effort. You manage to do ten consecutive pull-ups before jumping down from the bar.

Your name flashes to the top of the leaderboard, where you hope it will stay, but there are at least fifty more girls that will complete the test after you. Trying not to think about it too much, you head over to the grip station, where they have you hold onto a dynamometer and squeeze as hard as you can, first with your left hand, and then with your right.

After you complete that, you walk over to the long jump, and then to the jump plate, the bench press, and finally to the agility test. You glance at the leaderboard, where your name has slipped down to the second spot. Your bench press hadn’t been as good as you hoped. You need to do well on this test to move back up to the top, and also because ten dollars is on the line.

You search around for Auston, and find him leaping into the long jump pit, completely focused on his test. You smile to yourself at his intense expression. You’ll talk to him later to compare scores, and see who owes who.

The official calls you up to the start line and then blows a whistle, signaling for you to begin. You dart to the right, running 15 feet, and then squat low, touching the ground by the pylon, before crossing over and sprinting to the next pylon. You fly through the exercise, not putting a foot wrong. This will probably be your highest score out of all the tests. As you cross over the finish line, the scouts glance at each other and scribble down notes on their legal pads. You’re given a minute to rest before you complete the same exercise, but crossing over to the left instead of the right this time.

The official calls out your score. “Number 23, Y/L/N, score of of 4.33 on the left, and 4.41 on the right.”

You hear a whoop from the stands, and you glance over to see your family cheering, your mom hollering, “way to go,” at you. You smile and wave back at them, pleasantly surprised by their arrival. Your dad had texted you last night, mentioning that they would try to make it in time for the fitness test, but they weren’t sure if they could get there in time because your little brother had a hockey tournament yesterday in Orillia. Your mom cheers again as your name pops back up to the first spot. You grin widely. Now, all you have to complete is the cycling portion of the test and then you’ll be done.

You wait in line, shifting and hopping from side to side, trying to keep the blood flowing through your legs. This is supposedly the hardest bit. When the official beckons you forward, you take a deep breath, readying yourself. You climb onto the bike and adjust your seat and pedals.

“Just warm up your legs for two minutes, I’ll keep it on the low resistance,” the official explains, turning the dial on the bike slightly.

“Okay, thanks,” you reply politely and cycle for a bit, getting your heart rate up.

The official’s timer beeps, and he turns to you. “Alright, now you want to start pedalling harder, gradually moving up to maximum effort. When you hit max, I will let you know, and you’ll maintain that effort for a total of thirty seconds, okay?”

You nod and he clicks his timer. “Go!”

You push into the pedals, spinning your legs faster and faster. Your thighs and lungs burn as you push yourself to go harder.

“Max!” the official yells, and you try to keep pedalling at the same rate. “Thirty seconds starting in three..two..one!”

You can feel that your leg muscles are fatigued, but you push past the burn of the lactic acid building up and continue to pedal.

“Fifteen seconds!”

Your breath comes in short gasps, and you can feel the sweat rolling down your spine.

“Ten seconds!”

You’re not sure if you can make it. You feel your legs hesitate for a second, and you think you’re going to have to stop, but then you hear his voice call out to you.

“C’mon, Y/N!” Auston shouts, and you glance up briefly to see him standing off to the side, urging you on. “You can do it!”

A rush of motivation fills you, and you force your legs to pedal, pushing through the last few seconds.

“…and done!” the official yells and you immediately cease your effort, gradually slowing your legs down until the wheels stop spinning.

When you hop off the bike, Auston is waiting for you.

“That was amazing.” He pulls you into his arms.

“Auston, I’m all sweaty,” you whine, trying to escape from his grip.

“I don’t care,” he says and squeezes you tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank-you,” you mumble against his chest. “I’m proud of you too. You looked great doing your long jump.”

“Eh, not my best, but I tried.”

“Auston, you’re holding first spot by a mile. I doubt anyone will catch up with you.”

“We’ll see. Will and Mitch still have to go through the wingate, and they might knock me down.”

“Well, regardless, you’ve done your best. Like I said yesterday, that’s all that matters.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do you want to go grab some lunch while we wait for the final scores?”

“Yes, I’m starving.” You take his hand and walk out of the arena.

The Signs and Space:

Aries: A little seaside town on the coast of California. Its small and touristy. The road is blanketed in an odd fog. It doesn’t show up on the map. The GPS says you’re not on the road.

Taurus: An extremely nice mall at near midnight. I think its closed. The store lights are turning off one by one. The loudspeaker music stopped a couple minutes ago. Your footsteps echo on the tiles.

Gemini: Your room when you aren’t home. Thin images of you move about performing all the tasks you might have done that day.

Cancer: A bustling train station. Thousands of people come and go. Nobody notices the half dozen figures cloaked in rags and leading people by the hand.

Leo: The pub reflected in the rainy glass. A shimmering image of you and the various bargoers. Two are missing.

Virgo: The woods outside your childhood home. The snow falls soundlessly on the statues you could have found. Friends you could have met.

Libra: Old town. Cobbled streets and restored antique lighting. Modern infrastructure attempting to masquerade as old iron. The stone well in the town center. The soft voice coming from it.

Scorpio: The basement reading room of your local library. Not many people around this time of day. The door you don’t remember being there. The odd dusty fluid covering the handle.

Ophiuchus: A vast vast desert. The volcanic vents deep below painting the landscape white and black. The dust devil in the distance.

Sagittarius: A gangplank under the pier. You come here to think. 

Capricorn: A church in old town that used to be an independent theater. This place would be perfect if you could catch a film. The doors are unlocked. A friend said the projecting equipment was still inside.

Aquarius: A road through flat dusty prairie. A sandwich shop literally hundreds of miles from any conceivable place to live. A fantastic hoagie.

Pisces: The nicest house in the nicest neighborhood. The spiral staircase up to the observatory. Who even lives there now?

Palliative

Along a bridge I lose your hand,
not the disposable narrative,
the dreams that care to spin
from my limpid calibrations.

There’s something so magnetic
In the distance.
Slices of gold seep into trees.
The wind redirects,
stars attempt to wink,
diaphanous music charms my ears.

From up ahead,
I walk,
first briskly,
then start to run,
compelled.
And you struggle to say don’t leave,
but I disappear into blankets
of waiting fog and night,
become a part of the earth
once more.

I find myself apologising
on behalf of the marrow of life,
a fount of confession
to my dark haired lover,
as if my excuse is better.

You understand my ruins,
the heart.
Words undulate a breeze.
You acknowledge the land
has a claim on me.
All things done in poetry
are admissible.
We somehow know
I am lost yet home.

I’m Back!!

So sorry for the long wait guys, but I’m finally going to start getting those requests out for you. I’m super excited to get back to writing!! This is for anon and is Widowmaker and Mercy on a midnight drive with their s/o, enjoy! <3


Mercy-

               Soft, warm wind buffeted your hair and lulled your overactive mind as you and your girlfriend cruised down a dark, country road. It was one of Angela’s favorite places to go when she needed to think or wind down from a long day. The only light you could see for miles were the flickering fireflies and the stars blinking at you from above. You spared a weary glance at Angela and the corners of your lips tugged down into a frown at the dark circles under her eyes.

               “Angela, are you sure you should be driving?” You said softly, not wanting to startle her. She smiled and shook her head.

               “Don’t worry, I’m fine, love,” she assured you. You didn’t believe her for a second as her eyelids drooped even further. She’d been having trouble sleeping lately, occasionally waking you up in the middle of the night when the tea kettle whistled or when she didn’t catch the microwave in time. She wasn’t as good at hiding her insomnia as she often liked to think. You assumed her lack of sleep was just one of the many side effects of being an overworked, world-renowned scientist and doctor who had seen enough horrors for ten lifetimes.  

               You were startled from your thoughts as the car jerked suddenly. You gasped and grabbed the handle on the ceiling before you spared a glance over at Angela. Her eyes glanced over at you worriedly as her hands shook on the steering wheel.

               “I- I’m sorry, I think I dozed off for a second there…” Angela bit her lower lip and her eyes began to well with tears. You gently placed a hand on one of hers and she guided the car to the side of the road. Once the vehicle was in park she slumped in her seat and ran a hand over her face. Locks of hair had escaped from the messy bun she had thrown it into before you left the house. You unbuckled her seat belt and then climbed out of your own seat. You circled around the front of the car and she met you halfway.

               She slowly looped her arms around your neck and let her head settle on your shoulder. You circled her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple, reassuring her. She slowly let go and walked around to the passenger side. You opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat and began readjusting the mirrors.

               “You’re okay Angela, go ahead and sleep,” you said softly. You flashed her a smile over your shoulder and she gave you the most grateful look you had ever seen. She was out before you were done shifting the car into drive. You pulled back onto the road and began the trip home as she snored softly. You made a mental note to do this more often, Angela was quite adorable when she was sleeping.

Widowmaker-

               The day’s mission hadn’t gone well and sleep had plagued both you and your girlfriend until the early morning hours. It was you who had finally broken the restless silence and suggested a midnight drive. Widowmaker offered to drive since she slept significantly less than you on a regular basis. You left the windows down to enjoy the fresh night air. A thin blanket of fog hung in the air and softened the harsh edges of the city as you drove aimlessly. You rested your arms on the doorframe and let your head droop, hypnotized by the lights streaking by, glowing off of the damp pavement.

You were drifting further away when Widowmaker slowly came to a stop. You looked up and couldn’t help but chuckle when you saw the only functioning light in the city most likely at the moment. The red light glared at you and bathed Widowmaker’s skin in warm light. You stared at her in fascination, not wondering for the first time what she was like before the reconditioning. What shade of rosy pink would her cheeks turn if she could blush, how warm would she feel beneath your fingertips and what would a real smile look like on her face, with light in her eyes?

You shook your head and groaned to clear the intruding thoughts. You always felt guilty when you thought like that, like you were betraying her as she was now. You relaxed when you felt nimble fingers slide onto your thigh and squeeze your leg gently. You turned to see a warm pair of golden eyes regarding you with concern. Your heart swelled with emotion every time you remembered how lucky you were to have the Widowmaker as the woman you had chosen to love. How lucky you were that she had chosen you too.

Your hand found hers and stayed there as the light turned green and the car rolled forward slowly. You stayed like that, your hands curled together with the night air washing you clean. You were you so far gone you almost didn’t notice when soft French singing filled the car, competing with the rocking of the vehicle as to see which could lull you to sleep first. The lullaby won, and when you finally slipped away you were pulled into your dreams by a beautiful woman and the cool brush of her skin. Widowmaker struggled to focus as you clutched her hand softly and thought she might get some sleep tonight after all.

AOS Fic - In Darkness, part II

Originally posted by lasheeda

For @gracieminabox

Read part I here

This keeps getting longer and longer, guys.

Warnings for language, discussion of disability, and some serious eye squick. I also feel that I should mention that Jim’s thoughts at the end do not necessarily reflect my own opinions regarding subject matter. More on that in my notes, which are at the bottom.

McKirk, ‘cause it’s always McKirk


“Bones!”

Silence greets him.

“Bones?” Jim’s voice cracks. He’s hoarse from screaming, his ears are ringing and his eyes are burning, and the world is pitching and reeling beneath his feet.

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