bring me the news




Evanescence - Bring Me to Life (Synthesis)

SPN Fans? (Beware VERY VERY Long Post!)

There has only ever been a very small handful of times where I have had to make a public post to call out hypocrisy in this fandom. And now, again, this is one of those times.These past few days I have seen fans, specifically Destiel & Cockles fans, hating on both Jensen & Jared. Some of these fans reasons being valid, while other reasons are just to be malicious to these men simply for the attention of a retweet on Twitter or reblog on Tumblr.

Just to be clear before I even start to delve deep into the several topics of what I am about to discuss. Yes I am a “AA” or whatever people like to insult Jensen fans with. And yes I am a fan and appreciate Jared. And lastly, yes I do ship Wincest. I am not ashamed of it either. All this evidence is visible when you (because I know some of you will) click on my account to view my posts. I normally avoid drama because I am fan that likes to reblog or to simply make posts that support the boys and the wonderful show that is Supernatural. But I do have a decent following and amount of followers on here. And me staying quite on issues like this is almost as bad as the malicious people who attack the SPN actors out of spite.

Now to get to the matters at hand.

Jensen Ackles: I’ve seen Destiel Fans hate on Jensen because he quote on quote “doesn’t speak up enough on political issues.” And when he does he still receives mass amounts of criticism for it. An example of this is when Jensen recently made that #metoo tweet on Twitter to show support for women who have been sexually abused/assaulted/and or harassed. And when I looked at his mentions I honestly cannot even give you the exact number of how many people attacked him for showing support to women because there were so many. I could have taken screenshots & added them in this post, but I wont. That is how disgusting I found them. If anyone would like to know what I am talking about for proof all you have to do is go to Jensen’s Twitter, click on the #metoo tweet, and see for yourself.

Another thing Jensen receives hate for and fans have called him homophobic for is because he said “Destiel doesn’t exist” at a convention. I do understand if you are a hardcore Cockles or Destiel shipper and what Jensen said grated your nerves. It is a common human emotion to be upset. What is NOT okay is to tag him on Twitter calling him all sorts of derogatory hateful slurs because your feelings got hurt over a fictional ship. I’d like to point out that Jensen being called homophobic has not happened recently, but when it did happen mass amounts of people dragged him. And yes I did call Destiel a fictional ship because it is not canon. That’s not a dig at the ship or anyone who participates in that part of the fandom either. That is literally just the truth. Destiel isn’t canon the same way Wincest isn’t.

When Jensen first dismissed Destiel questions at a J2 panel, within days the top Google search when typing Jensen Ackles name in the search bar was “Jensen Ackles is homophobic.” It stayed like that to for a long time. And it is crazy that people in this fandom do not realize how fucking damaging rumors like that can be to someones career let alone how that might make them feel if they were to see what was being said about them. 

Could Jensen have handled Destiel questions better? Absolutely. But the fact that fans started career damaging rumors about him out of spite of what he said is extremely harmful. 

The most recent thing Jensen has been dragged for is for liking a Blue Lives Matter post. Even I am a huge fan of Jensen and even I know that shit was wrong. But instead of attempting to educate him respectfully on his ignorance, he received slurs and name calling instead.  

Jared Padalecki: Recently Jared has been getting hate for calling out bad service on his social media in front of his several million followers. The first few times he did it, those could be semi excusable because everybody has their days where they’re off. I do believe fans had the right to say “man that isn’t cool, please delete this.” But instead of doing exactly that and trying to educate in a calm, cool and collected manner. The same way they should have done to Jensen when he liked that Blue Lives Matter post. Some of you do the exact opposite. You berate Jared with your words in attempt to make him feel lesser than. As if you fans not tagging him on Twitter means he won’t see the shit you say about him. It’s damn near common knowledge that most celebrities search themselves up online.

And the comments some of you say to Jared shake me to my core. When I see some of you telling Jared to kill himself, it literally hurts me which is a bit insane because these comments are not even directed at me. Fans wishing that Jared would die, makes me scared for his life. And I’m not trying to play that card of “ooooooohh poor weak Jared! He has depression! Everyone please be nice to him! Let him be, poor weak little soul! Awww!”

No, I realize Jared has made mistakes. But the way some of you go about correcting him is appalling. I am shaking as I write this because you are telling someone to die who has publicly said MULTIPLE TIMES he’s wanted to die and has been on the verge of almost killing himself, that he is basically a worthless piece of shit. Those types of comments literally make me want to cry which bothers me because I don’t consider myself a weak minded person. Not after all the obstacles I have personally went through. Jared, like Jensen, is a grown man that I’m sure can handle some criticism. But the criticism some of you show isn’t educational criticism at all it’s hate. And I have to say is that if Jared ever tried to hurt himself over something he’s read online that a supposed “fan” sent him, you will always be vile to me.

Jared’s most recent call out tweet, was that wrong? I have to say yes. And that is not hate, just truth. But clearly Jared learned his lesson seeing as he deleted the tweet within the first few minutes. 

Final Thoughts: It’s very sad to me that fans, and lets be honest here, mostly Destiel and Cockles shippers with Misha in their icons are the ones that continue to attack Jared and Jensen for things that happened years ago. Could you imagine everyone bringing up your past only to throw it in your face every five seconds? Most of you are lucky stuff like that does not happen to you like it does for celebrities in general every morning they wake up. Some celebs deserve criticism while others don’t.

What’s also fascinating is that a specific group of fans continue to drag Jared for calling out bad service or defame Jensen for several different matters like dismissing the ship that is Destiel. When only a few years ago Misha Collins was making racist and disgusting slavery jokes on Twitter.

It’s jokes like the one Misha made a few years back that literally give more examples and reasons as to why informative enlightening groups like Black Lives Matter exists. It is also jokes like that being the reason why I still get the “she must be angry” simply because I am a black woman who was having a bad day and didn’t feel like smiling at any creepy ass men. 

Stereotypes like the “black women are always angry” are so fucking hurtful and I can’t stand all the misogynistic and racist people out there. This fandom claims they’re so progressive but are the first ones to call a women or even some men of a certain age “old hags” or say things like “you’re too old to be in a fandom”.

As a woman of color I was extremely offended, hurt, and surprised when Misha made those borderline racist tweets. Did he apologize? Sort of. In the second screenshot above, that apology was half-assed. I still cannot for the life on me wonder why he seemed surprised that a slavery joke like that would not receive backlash just because he does a lot of great charity work. And that slavery joke that he made on Twitter is the number one reason why I can’t and will not support Misha and his endeavors. But despite the fact that I do not support Misha, you don’t see me slandering his name every five seconds either.

To be clear I don’t think Misha is a racist nor do I believe that people should loom this over his head for the rest of eternity. But I’m using this as example to show that like Misha, both Jensen and Jared have made mistakes. And to bring up their mistakes on a constant basis like Misha’s fans seem to do to Jared and Jensen whenever possible is out of decent respectful humane character.

There is one thing no one in this dysfunctional fandom can deny. And that is that all three of these men have some of the biggest hearts, when it comes to charity, in the sexist world that is Hollywood. And the fact that some fans can’t even let Jensen, Jared, or Misha do any charity work without them supposedly having some sort of hidden deceitful agenda behind their motives it is truly sickening. 

Now before anyone attacks me on bringing up old news, like the racist tweets on Misha, decides to say that I just contradicted myself. Or that I am trying to bring Jensen and Jared up while tearing Misha down. That isn’t even the case.The point I was trying to make was that I or anyone else really could say and do that EXACT same thing, in regards to bringing up old mistakes, the same way some of you do to Jensen and Jared whenever you get the chance or whenever they do or say something you don’t like. Jared, Jensen, and Misha are not your puppets. They don’t jump when you say jump and they will continue to make mistakes. Which isn’t all that surprising seeing as they are human beings with emotions like everyone else.

I realize many people will not take this post and message the way it was meant to be, which is honestly to stop being so petty and let people ship what they want to ship. And let them love their faves. No, I’m sure a good amount of people will see this post as something to start up drama. But it’s fine because I would not have made this post if I couldn’t handle people not agreeing with me.

This fandom always talks about how they support women, they don’t bully, and that they support the LGBTQ community. Now lets see if I get attacked and berated for expressing my opinion. 

I am going to put this post in the tags because I feel like it is extremely important. No matter your take away from my post and message I am trying to send. It is critical to realize that at the end of day, it is okay to respectfully call a celebrity out without any hidden shade and name calling. But it is not okay to tell Jared to kill himself, call Jensen homophobic or racist for liking that Blue Lives Matter post when you don’t know his stance on anything. It’s also not okay for people to tag Misha in their slander either.

It really is time for fans to start respecting Jared, Jensen, and Misha. This fandom is headed down the wrong path. And we really need to fix it before it’s too late.

You Can’t Have Kids~BTS Scenario {Vocal Line}

Like I said angst is my favorite thing in the world, expecially when fluff mixes with it. Oh a some concepts will be repeated as to why you cannot have children just twist differently for each member. {Rap Line}


Originally posted by arkysal

It wasn’t like you didn’t know you couldn’t have kids, you’ve known since you were seventeen you had .09% chance of having a child, a miracle to 1 chance. You just didn’t know how to break it to Jin, the topic of kids being randomly brought up with marrying you as well, three years after you two met.You couldn’t find the words to say it, that you could never carry his child, that you could never give him the experience of watching your stomach grow, to feel your baby kick and move. You couldn’t do the one thing you were built for, to make a life all you could do was try and live the life your own mother gave you.

So when he had gotten down on one knee at a band meeting, with the six boys standing around you, managers and producers. People that love and care for you and him, you cried not from love or excitement but of your body becoming riddled with sadness and confusion. You wanted to marry him, you want to be Mrs.Kim, you want to have the ring he probably took months to find just for you, thinking of you while he bought it. You just didn’t know if he’d want to marry you when you told him, but you said yes anyway. Because in the moment he wanted to marry you.

The feeling of the ring slipping onto your skin made you blush as tears fell, his own gathering at his cheeks. He stood up and wrapped you in a hug his lips pressing against yours as everyone cheered. Your hands cupping his face as he picked you up and spun you around. “I love you, I love you!” He laughed making you giggle the thoughts of never having his child leaving you.

“I love you too.” You whisper, your forehead leaning against his as you smile at him.

Later that night he had dragged you into your home, lip against yours as he let out a soft groan when your hand began to undo the buttons of his shirt. You hand spreading across his chest as he picked you up. “Let’s get start practicing.” He mumbles with a smile making you pull back, you tilt your head as he laughs tossing you onto your shared bed “For making kids…” he trailed as his lips trail down your neck, the words made you freeze making him stop and look at you. “Too soon?” He questions chewing on his lip.

“It’s not that.” You whisper, moving your body away from his. You twirl the ring on your finger, the smooth metal spun perfectly on your skin. His hand touches your shoulders, the large hand that made you feel alive and loved run down your arms as his lips push against your neck making you sigh as you push him back making him sigh. “I have to tell you something.. I should’ve told you this before…’s just I don’t know how to…say it.” You whisper, tears gathering in your eyes, he hand laces with yours. His other reaching your chin to turn to face him.

“Baby, what is it?”

“Take this back..” you mumbled pulling the ring form your hand, his eyes widen and start to water. His body yanking from yours as he stood up.

“You don’t want to marry me?”

“Of course I do!”

“The why?!” He cried out falling to his knees in front of you. His hands and head resting on your lap making your sigh.

“I can’t have kids.” You spit out, the words leaving a vile taste in your mouth. His eyes widen as he lets out an airy laugh.

“Oh god, I thought you just..I don’t even want to say what I thought.” He mumbles his hand grabbing your hands as he stood up, your body following his. “I don’t care if you can’t…I mean I would love to have a miny me or you but there us a child out there who needs us.” He mumbles his lips touching his neck. “Does this mean I didn’t have to use cond-”




Originally posted by kpopidolaegyooo

You two had been trying for what seems like years when in reality it’s only been a handful of months. Still, not even a possible sign of pregnancy, it was taking a toll on you. You blamed yourself, maybe if you’d taken better care of yourself as a younger adult it wouldn’t take as long, you even went as far and blaming Jimin trying to blam his party liking as a teenager destroy his fertility. But when you got the news that you had several cysts on your fallopian tubes it destroyed you even more.

You’d gone alone to get a checkup a week in advance, your wedding bands shinning in the office light as you wait for the diagnosis. Jimin was next to you, pacing the room, his raven hair going through his fingers over and over again. “It has to be bad news if you were told to bring me.” He breathes out, horrible ideas running through his head, cancer being the biggest leading factor. What if’s running through his mind as he paces. “It has to horrible, oh my god.” He whispers, his eyes tearing up at the unknown and over thinking.

What if you had ovarian cancer? What if he had to watch you wither away? What if you didn’t make it? What if he had to bury you? His Y/n, what if she died and he had to grow old alone? What if the one person who was made for him, just died?

A knock on the door made your voice break through his mind, his body moving to stand next to you. Your body in a chair, legs crossed and chin in hand. You other hand gripping his as it dropped over your shoulder. “Mr. and Mrs. Park?” The women asked, her hair in a back bun, eyes covered by glasses and a white coat over her shoulders. “Hello my name is Dr. Kim, I have some…bad news.” She says making Jimins grip on your shoulder tighten. She pulled another chair and sat in front of you. Her hand reached over and touched your knee the simple gesture made it click, the conversation you had with her a week ago, speaking of try for your first born. The look in her eye and the placement of her hand told you all you needed to know.

You could not bear a child in this life.

You let out a small sob making your husband’s mouth fall open, Dr.Kim let out a sigh as she let her hand moved around your knee. You yanked yourself from Jimin and fall into her. “You have several cysts on your fallopian tubes, it’s under 5% chance of conception, I am so sorry.” She mumbled as you cry into her lap.

Jimin stood there. The breath leaving him, a mix of sadness and joy. He can still grow old with you, sure he would never have the Minnie him he’s dreamed of. But he reached have you, then a baby. His hand reached out to touch your back, the feeling making you let out a breath as you pull away from Dr.Kim. “Thank god.” He let slip as he moved to bend next to you, “I thought I was going to lose you or something.” You let him hug you as you cried. When Dr.Kim came back in front of you two with multiple brochures and pamphlets.

“Now..I know I just gave you the news…but here. I’ve known you for a while now Y/n, and I know you’ll make a great mother one day….even if it’s not your own.” Her hand placed them on your lap as she smiled. “Leave whenever you’re ready.” And left.

Looking down you couldn’t even smile still feeling sick after finding out, but Jimins eyes shined. He took one, Adopt a child in need, on the front cover. “Wow.” He mumbled like a whole new light was shined in his eyes. The sound of his voice made you float out of your funk and look at the one he was holding. “Look at them, they’re so beautiful..” It was one for and African tribe who had had many successful adoptions. You smile as you watch him read over the process, you own eyes following with his, “Boy or girl?”

“You chose.” You mumble whipping your eyes, he looks up at you and smiles.

“A little girl…she’ll be so beautiful.”


Originally posted by jeonyween

You were two months along when you miscarried. You didn’t even know you were pregnant, waking up to a shooting pain that made you scream waking your Husband of three years snap up with you. You were sweating, clutching your stomach, his eyes widen as you throw the covers off you, there he saw blood, making him jump into action. Taking you to the car sheets still wrapped with you screaming in pain, he drove off.

Once at the hospital they whisk you away, “Miscarriage! We have a miscarriage in the process get OB down here…Mrs.Kim it’s going to be alright, how far along are you?” You panic, the oxygen mask making it harder to breathe, miscarriage? You’re pregnant?

“What? I did-where my husband I need him please.” You cry as another shot of pain went through you, a nurse left as another Doctor came in.

“OB.” She says, moving to takes a look, hearings after a few minutes, she sighs. “There’s no way to dave this pregnancy….get me an ultrasound though…there’s something else wrong she bleeding too much and is into muc-”

“Y/n! Baby, oh my…” Taehyungs voice made your heart rate drop, as he rushed to your side, his hand wrapping around yours. Cold jell was placed your stomach as you felt dizzy.

“Just what I fear…you have a fallopian tube pregnancy, I have to in surgically to repair the damage, now. Or we lose them both.” The voice shouted making Tae stop breathing.

“Pregnancy?! Lose then both?” He cried as the push him away whisking you off.

“We’ll do everything we can to save you wife Mr.Kim.”

Hours later, you woke up pain in a lower abdomen. A hand-laced in yours, balloons all around. Looking to the side you see a sleeping Tae, you froze when you moved your hand to your belly. No. “I’m sorry.” You breathe as you felt someone looking at you.

“For what?”

“Lossing our baby….I didn’t know I wa-”

“It wasn’t your fault…it was no ones. Okay, it was not your fault Y/n.” He says as your turn your face to look at him, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed your lips. When someone walked in.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Kim, I have some news. So first of the surgery went beautifully, but secondly, we had to remove the damaged tube, and ovary as we were in there I noticed something else. Your other tube was quite as I call it. Meaning it has not produced an egg in quite some time. In doing the further test I found that your other ovary has 6% fertility…I’m sorry.” After asking basic question the doctor left leaving your and him alone.

“We’ll get through this I promise.”


Originally posted by eatupbangtan

You and Jungkook had been planning to have children for almost a year. The mutual idea of being able to hold them, thinking it would be soon. So when it was brought up to your Doctor, they wanted to make sure it went off without a hitch.

As you and Jungkook wait for the Doctor to come back with preferable medications and vitamins. He was having you sit on his lap, his lips pressed your neck the simple motion made you shiver. As your Doctor came in, the vibe of the room changed in a snap. The feeling made you sick, the words that follow made you storm out of the room leaving you husband confused.

When he walked to the car to see you standing there, red eyes and messy hair. He lets out a sigh as he walked up to you, his arms wrapping around you as you let out a sob. “Are you okay?” His question made you shake your head as you fell into him. “That’s okay we’ll be okay.”

Hearing Voices Part II - Roscar
  • Oscar: So you've been surprisingly quiet on this subject.
  • Ozpin: Well... when I knew Miss Rose, she was a bright and promising student of mine, and several scores younger than me. My input on the subject feels...improper.
  • Ozpin: If you're looking for advice on romance more broadly, it is not something that is off-limits for us. We have known many great loves throughout our lifetimes. is complicated.
  • Oscar: Of course it is.
  • Ozpin: Destinies such as ours require full dedication. Shaping the future of mankind is not a part time undertaking. When we make choices, we often have to put what is best for the people ahead of our own wants and needs. This makes it understandably...difficult for the people we love. For the people who love us.
  • Ozpin: We have known many great loves...but those loves come with great hardship. And great loss.
  • Oscar: (dejected) Terrific...
  • Ozpin: Further, regarding Miss Rose, regarding Ruby, her path will not be an easy one either. The silver-eyed warriors were renowned for their fierceness, their courage, and their unmatched skill on the battlefield. But their power comes with a cost. They are the protectors of mankind. They take on challenges far greater than other warriors...sometimes challenges that can be more than even their great power can defeat. The silver-eyed warriors, more than the average Huntsman, are known for their heroic, but very premature deaths.
  • Ozpin: Ruby inherited her silver eyes from her mother, and she died very young. Ruby was only a small child. I hope the same fate doesn't befall Ruby, but that is not in my hands. When Ruby's battle comes, she alone will be the one who can determine the outcome. Regardless, however long or short Ruby's journey is, it will be a difficult one. You both have destinies that require great sacrifice to achieve.
  • Ozpin: So about what you are thinking about starting with her, that is your choice to make. But be warned: with the paths each of you are on, with the challenges each of you will face, there is little likelihood that the two of you will have a happy ending.
  • Oscar: You're just here to bring me sunshine and good news, aren't you?
  • Ozpin: I'm afraid not, no.
  • Oscar: Seriously? Don't you have anything that isn't gloom and doom and sacrifice and destinies? Can't you tell me one thing that is positive?!
  • Ozpin: There is a pastry shop two streets over that makes an excellent cup of cocoa. I highly recommend you stop in.
  • Oscar: *facepalms*
Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part VII)

Part VII – “You bleed just to know you’re alive”


Why do sirens cry in blue and red?

Are they calling for help, for the crushing urgency, the need to rob time of time itself? Or are they warning us to look away, to prepare ourselves because tragedy is upon us – we might as well be next?

Even after many years, I’d recall their grieving sound. The way my hands pressed upon Claire’s belly, blocking the exit of her life with my palms. The screams around me, senseless, enhancing my growing despair. How her eyes never left mine – daring me to stay with her, to keep death at bay.

The paramedics came. They could have taken from seconds to a lifetime to reach us – I wouldn’t be able to say. Time skipped and jumped, a leaf on the fury of wind, fragile at the thought of flying.

“I need you to step aside, sir.” A small man told me with assertiveness, trying to dislodge me from my position, kneeled next to Claire on the ground. His gloved hands were already evaluating her pulse, placing an oxygen mask on her face.

“I will not leave her side!” I growled, ferocious. He gave me a serious look, but didn’t make any further attempts to take me away from her, certain I would strike and maim any man foolish enough to try. He was right.

They quickly bandaged her abdomen with a pile of snow white compresses, held tight against her body by a bandage skilfully applied. Claire tried not to moan, but I could see her pain in every ragged breath, in the sweat that dripped from her brow.

The ambulance flew across the roads of Edinburgh, transporting us to the closest trauma centre. The driver had opened his mouth – about to object my presence – but was shortly discouraged by my menacing glance and a shook of head from the short paramedic.

“Hold on.” I repeated to Claire, like a mantra, holding her band – being almost thrown to the opposite side of the ambulance as the vehicle raced to the hospital, jumping on speed bumps and sliding on the curves like a car in hot pursuit. “Dinna die on me, mo nighean donn. I won’t let ye, do ye hear me?”

“I’m… not… too keen…. on the idea… either.” She puffed haltingly, making a weak attempt of a smile, which almost broke my heart.

“Woman of thirty, victim of an armed robbery, gunshot wound to the upper right quadrant with no exit wound – she’s losing blood fast.” The paramedic announced, as they erupted through the emergency doors, a team standing by to receive them. “Glasgow fifteen, she has been responsive during transport. Her blood pressure kept dropping, the saline is wide open but ineffective fluid challenge.” He informed to a man with brown hair and olive eyes, who nodded in acquiescence, leading the gurney carrying Claire to a trauma room as I followed closely.

“Denzel.” Claire whispered to the young surgeon, as he started to unpack her abdomen to access her injuries. “Is that you?” He looked at her face, surprised at hearing his name, and his eyes opened in shock.

“Claire!” He touched her face in greeting, as nurses hurried around, preparing trays and drugs that might be necessary. “Dear God! What happened?”

“Do ye know her?” I asked, grabbing her hand in spite of a nurse’s protest, prepared to shoo me away from the secluded room.

“Of course.” He looked at me with concern in his calm eyes, as he started to palpate her belly. Claire hissed in pain and he pursed his worried lips. “I met Claire during medical school in Boston and was very pleased when she decided to return to Scotland and be a resident here, as I am. You really shouldn’t be here, sir.”

“Please…” Claire pleaded, closing her eyes for a second and licking her chapped lips. “Let Jamie stay…just a while longer.”

“Alright.” Denzel Hunter patted her hand in reassurance. “As long as he doesn’t faint on me.”

“How… bad… is it, Denny?” She asked, her eyes more unfocused and glassy. “I’m…fairly…sure…it went through…my liver.”

“And I’m sure you’re right - brilliant even in this situation, my dear. I’ll ask Doctor Myers to come in to operate.” Denny smiled, skilfully inserting a catheter on her jugular vein.

“I’ll be dead…before…he gets here.” Claire said sheepishly, raising her brow. Her face was hazardously pale, her whiskey eyes shining even brighter, her orbs dilated from pain and blood loss. “It has…to be you. I trust…you.”

Denny nodded, solemn, checking her pupils with a small flashlight, as she suddenly became unconscious – the monitors around them going crazy with alarms. “She’s bleeding out! Let’s move people, hang that saline wide open and two units of blood on the rapid infuser!” He commanded, concentrated in the wound’s trajectory. “Do you know her blood type, by any chance?”

I didn’t know her blood type – never had the chance to ask her, that information amongst a million other precious details of her that I knew nothing about. I didn’t know her birthday, even though I knew the position she slept in. I didn’t know her favourite dish – even if I was aware she preferred sneakers than high heels. I almost choked at the realization of the lifetime of things I could be robbed of, so devastatingly – left wondering, forever, because the time we had been offered hadn’t been enough. Knowing how much I loved her – and yet knowing so little of the one I loved.

“I dinna ken.” I admitted, gripping my fists, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and weep on the floor, stained with her blood.

“That’s alright.” Denzel assured me, throwing away compresses soaked in blood. “Let’s go with O-negative! I need a blood gas test as soon as possible and someone call the OR, let them know we’re coming! I want to be doing the first cut in less than five minutes!”

“Is she going to be alright?” I fearfully asked him, reluctantly letting go of her hand as a nurse took blood from her wrist with a fine syringe.

“She’s going into shock from the blood loss.” He explained in a steady voice. “I need to repair the damage right away, before she’s too unstable to endure the procedure. We’ll take her away now.”

I approached her, feeling numb as if my own blood had been turned to ice in my veins. I kissed her forehead, my lips hot against her perspired skin.

“Don’t leave me, Claire. This time I’ll beg.” I whispered in a broken voice. “Don’t leave me.”


I roamed the strikingly white corridors, incapable of sitting any longer in the waiting room outside the OR, where other husbands, daughters and mothers gathered, hope and fear lurking inside their eyes.

I came upon the small chapel, whispering of shelter and tranquillity in the half-light. I sat on the wooden bench, my hands entwined in prayer – I was ready to surrender to His will well enough, but was intent on offering a bargain.

“Lord, ye gave her to me.” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the cross where he had been martyr, symbol of the most loyal of loves. “I canna make sense of it in any other way. When my need was greatest ye set her upon my path so she could heal my soul. All along I was meant for her.” A warm tear streamed down my check, too raw to be contained. “And I intend to love her well the rest of my days – to care for her and make a home of her heart. I shall repay the gifts bestowed upon me by loving her to the best of my abilities. So I ask ye now – dinna take her away.”

I clenched my teeth, fighting against the sobs that threaten to wreck my body. “For if ye ever loved, ye know this – there’s this place inside me that only exists as long as she walks the earth. Once she’s gone, the part of me that lived in her light – the best, the one that makes me myself and no one else - will die with her.” My voice was unhinged, resounding in the naked walls, pulsing as the chambers of His heart. “I’m none so brave as I was before, ken?” I added very softly. “Not brave enough to live without her anymore.”

I heard footsteps approaching the door – I didn’t bother to clean away the tear tracks on my cheeks. I didn’t turn either – I knew who had come to bring me news.

“Does she live?” I asked aloud – the hint of pain, of shaped glass an inch away from shattering, creeped into my voice.

“She lives.” Denzel Hunter sat next to me, sighing in tiredness as his bones found comfort in transient rest. “It was touch and go for a while, but I was able to retrieve the bullet and repair the vessels – she lost a bit of her liver, but it will regenerate itself with time.” His outline was sharp, softness mixed with edges, akin to a bust of an angel descending from grace to speak of hope to the lost crowd. “It will be a slow recovery – but she lives.”

“Thank ye.” I closed my eyes and bent my head, my body shaking from supressed grief, as I let go of the leash I had been using to keep myself together. “Thank ye.” I repeated. I didn’t know if I was thanking Denzel Hunter or God – but to me, in that moment, they were one and the same.

He squeezed my shoulder in silent acknowledgment and left me alone – to cry for joy and gratitude, for my heart had been saved.


I sat by her side as soon as she went to a room in recovery. I jumped each time a monitor bleeped, startled to the point of panic – but she slept peacefully, her lips still hauntingly pale.

I knew sleep wouldn’t touch me – my task was to watch over her. To guard her. To will her back to me.

I marvelled with each heartbeat – found terror in the infinitesimal space between each and every one of them. I talked to her in the Gaidhlig, the language of my dreams, in which I could best tell her all my heart. I brushed her hand with inquiring fingers, learning the lines of her to make sure they were still the same. I kissed her lips softly, remembering the promise of her laugh.

And as the moon rose outside, I watched the circuit of air inside her lungs, the tiny movements of flesh and bone, adjusting to the challenging rhythms of life. I watched her breathe again and again, until she opened her eyes to look at me – and I discovered that I too could breathe again.  

anonymous asked:

Isn't long hair a hyuga thing? tbh i'm kinda squick about pairing the younger gen with oro, but then I thought hizashi? i'm totally down for that. That way NEJI IS THEIR SON. Neji is the pretty baby. amazing. And then when Hizashi decides to sacrifice himself for his brother, Oro is like 'fuck no' and serves A's head on platter to his pretty husband.

Ughhhhhh, why did you make me ship this. 

It’s Jiraiya who brings him the news, bare hours after the decision has been reached.

(For this, rom thinks, he’ll forgive every slight and sin of their long friendship, without exception.)

“You’re sure?” he asks quietly, trying not to let his voice rise the way he wants to, because Neji is asleep in the chair by the window, blanket dragged up over his nose and head pillowed on the book he’d been reading.

Jiraiya nods, face grim, a deep frown pulling at his mouth. “I—” He stops, drags a hand over his hair, sighs. “Peace is one thing. I don’t want another war to break out, either. But…”

But. Orochimaru’s hands curl over the edge of the lab table, putting faint dents in the metal. But this is family, and Jiraiya will always put family above all else. He’s never had occasion to be this grateful for it, Orochimaru knows, but he’s not going to forget this moment, no matter what happens next.

“I have to—” he starts, and then stops short, eyes falling on the vulnerable form of his beautiful son. Leverage, should the worst happen, and Orochimaru has been a shinobi long enough to have every expectation that it will.

“Go,” Jiraiya says, a command rather than a way to finish Orochimaru’s sentence. “Hiashi tried to stop him, but Hizashi knocked him out, and the clan’s keeping him sedated so he can’t interfere. If you don’t help him, I don’t think anyone will.”

It’s the first time in years that Orochimaru has felt kindly towards Hiashi, and he allows himself a flicker of satisfaction as he pushes upright, stepping away. “Will you watch Neji?” he asks, meets and hold Jiraiya’s eyes so his former teammate will see just what the request means.

Jiraiya has never been as much of a fool as Orochimaru used to call him. He returns Orochimaru’s stare with a steady gaze and inclines his head. “I’ll take care of him. And if things go south, I’ll get him out of Konoha and come find you.”

Orochimaru isn’t one for sentiment, and never has been, but that moment is probably the closest he’s ever come to hugging Jiraiya. “Thank you,” he says instead, and without waiting for a response—because, knowing Jiraiya, it will be something that makes Orochimaru want to hit him, since that’s how things go between them—he turns to climb the stairs into the house.

“Good luck,” Jiraiya tells him, quiet but entirely sincere. “I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

“This is more than enough,” Orochimaru returns without looking back, and keeps moving.

The handoff is happening in Frost Country, neutral ground, and alone and moving fast Orochimaru makes it there hours ahead of the Konoha squad, even though he leaves later. The Kumo nin are already there, the Raikage among them, smug and satisfied and bristling with weapons, a show of force that makes rage crawl hot and biting up Orochimaru’s spine.

In the trees, carefully beyond the range of the guards, he takes a breath. The jinchuuriki is with them, crouched near the outside of the circle, and he’ll have to be the first one Orochimaru deals with. Behind him A is speaking with one of his guards, smiling, and Orochimaru is prone to losing his temper but this fury is as cold as the arctic, as devastating as an avalanche.

Hizashi is his, the first in decades to see him, even when others turned away.

They can’t have him.

This is every misguided and reckless idea Orochimaru has ever had, smashed together and magnified by the power of ten, but war and death and failure matter nothing at all in the face of hearing that his husband sacrificed himself without even letting Orochimaru know. Without facing him, because he knows Orochimaru would never agree, and that he isn’t as easily dealt with as Hiashi. There will be a reckoning for that, but only when Orochimaru is absolutely certain all threats have been dealt with.

He takes a breath and drops from the branches, shakes back the sleeves of his robe, and calls up his chakra. It boils across the clearing, sharp-edged and unsettling as a knife slashed across a bared throat, and before even Killer Bee can react Orochimaru is in front of him, Kusanagi in hand, his free palm already glittering with five points of light.

“Death to warmongering fools,” Orochimaru hisses, and slams the Five Elements Seal into the jinchuuriki’s chest with all the force of his chakra behind it. Bee crumples, collapsing at Orochimaru’s feet, and Orochimaru steps around him and brings Kusanagi up in a sweeping slash that cleaves through skin and bone with equal ease.

The Konoha nin take one stride into the clearing and stop dead.

Seated on a fallen tree in the middle of the blood-soaked grass, Orochimaru coolly looks up from where he’s polishing Kusanagi’s blade with loving care. He eyes his old teacher for a long moment, then uncoils himself and comes to his feet, sheathing his sword and reaching down to pick up what’s sitting next to him.

He doesn’t look at his husband, wrists bound, standing behind Sarutobi.

“Forgive me my impetuousness, sensei,” he says, and gracefully dips to set the Raikage’s severed head at Sarutobi’s feet. “I’m afraid my temper got the better of me.”

There’s fear in the faces of those watching him, but Orochimaru doesn’t care, doesn’t look to see if Hizashi shares their terror at the sight of him in blood-drenched robes, with streaks of it drying rust-red across his pale skin.

“Orochimaru.” Sarutobi sounds torn between exasperation and true anger. “This—you have—”

“Prevented you from making a mistake,” Orochimaru finishes for him, and lets his gaze slide past his teacher for the first time. Hizashi is staring at him, lavender eyes wide, and he looks exhausted and grief-stricken and so very pained that all of Orochimaru’s immediate anger slides away.

I’ve seen you on the battlefield, and only a fool wouldn’t fear you there, Hizashi had told him, one quiet night in the midst of the Third War, alone around a campfire and just come from a fight. Orochimaru had never spoken to him before, never looked at him with any thought beyond his abilities and his eyes, but that night changed many things. But the way you keep going, even when everyone else is ready to give in and die—that’s the reason I would fear you.

Hizashi has always given in too easily, and Orochimaru has never learned how to surrender. It’s in the middle where they meet that they can build something functional, but sometimes—

Sometimes a reminder that there are merits in both extremes is necessary.

“Orochimaru!” Sarutobi’s voice is as sharp as Orochimaru has ever heard it, but he brushes past the Hokage without pause.

“The jinchuuriki is alive, but unable to touch his chakra,” he says disinterestedly. “Use him as a bargaining chip. Kumo will not want to lose its only adult human sacrifice.”

Hizashi looks at him as he comes to a halt before the man, and there’s something in his face that feels like wonder and tentative joy. “You—for me?” he whispers, and raises bound hands.

Orochimaru catches them, presses his cheek to one callused palm and lets his lashes dip to hide the violence he’s sure is still burning in his eyes. “Neji would be heartbroken,” he says, and feels the faint flinch Hizashi gives without remorse. Hizashi knows by now that Orochimaru has never been one to fight fair; he should have expected nothing less.

“I couldn’t be the cause of you going back to war,” Hizashi says, and Orochimaru glances up to meet his tired eyes. “Not with Neji. Not after it almost broke you last time. I would do anything to keep my family safe.”

My greatest hope is to find something to live for, Orochimaru had told him, years ago, in a tent with walls too thin and more battles looming, his hands splayed across a broad chest. Exhaustion and too little chakra, coupled with the rare intimacy—so strange with a person who didn’t shy away—had made the words as simple as a thought. I have no reason to give in, but—

Sometimes I think that I would like one.

“So would I,” Orochimaru returns, and slices through the ropes holding him with a kunai. Instantly, Hizashi wraps his arms around him and pulls him in, drags him up against his chest and buries his face in blood-soaked hair. Orochimaru leans into his hold, feels the strength and solidity of him, and forces himself to breathe.

Even if this is the last moment before another war, Orochimaru doesn’t care. Hizashi and Neji are the only reasons he’s ever had to stop fighting, and now that he has them there’s no force in the universe that can take them away.

Shifted - Part 7, Chapter 5

In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…

Part 7 - The Visitor

Lallybroch, Autumn 1762

A hurried introduction to various nieces and nephews while the servants scurried about – and then the three of them were in Jamie’s study. Claire settled behind Jamie’s desk and gestured for Roger to take the chair in front of the desk. Jamie bolted the door behind them and stepped over to Claire, standing beside her and resting an arm around her shoulders.

“Now,” she said softly. “Tell me why you are here.”

Roger licked his lips. “Your husband looked for you. He found you.”

Claire’s hand flew to her mouth, wordless.

“Go on.” Jamie’s voice was low, steely.

Roger watched Claire’s chin crumple, but her gaze remained strong on his, her cheeks flushed.

“He kept in touch with the Reverend over the years – would come to visit every once in a while when I was growing up. Within a year of your – disappearance – he came to peace with the fact that you’d never be found.” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Mrs. Graham – he’d gotten to speaking with her every time he visited. He became more and more open to the idea that you’d, well, stepped through time. And that maybe you were in a place that you couldn’t come back from.” He shrugged. “It’s as good of an explanation as any, I suppose.”

She nodded quietly.

“Frank moved back to Oxford – began teaching again. Became a Jacobite scholar – the ’45, Bonnie Prince Charlie and all that.”

“And all that,” Jamie said softly, shaking his head. He rubbed Claire’s shoulders. “Go on.”

“He had you legally declared dead, Claire, in 1949. You’d been gone four years, without a trace.” Roger watched as she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Frank married again, Claire. In 1950. She’s a librarian at the university – they met when she helped him with his research.”

Claire took in a deep breath. “Do they have any children?”

“No. No, they don’t.” Roger dropped his eyes and starred at his hands. Claire pulled back and looked up at Jamie with a trembling smile. His troubled eyes relaxed.

“I ended up studying under him at university,” Roger continued. “He and the Reverend got a great kick out of it. I was helping him with some research, two years ago, focusing on how the British Army gave amnesty to proven rebels right after the Rising. And I found Jamie’s pardon.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Was he still looking for her, then?”

Roger shook his head. “No. But when I found the deed of sassine where you signed over this place to your nephew, and saw Claire’s name on the document…” He swallowed and raised his eyes. Claire’s fingers twined with Jamie’s on her shoulder, reassuring him.

“So I showed it to him – and I thought he was going to faint, right there. We knew it was you, Claire. We’d found you in 1746.”

Jamie tilted Claire’s chin to lock his eyes with hers. His free hand gently traced her cheekbones. It was an intimate gesture – one that spoke of deep feeling born of many years of a shared life – and Roger suddenly felt like an intruder on a very private moment.

Something unspoken was communicated between them, and Jamie gently released Claire’s face, sliding his hand down to rest on her other shoulder.

“So why come, then?” Claire asked softly. “Just to bring me news of Frank? Because he’s clearly moved on from me – and I hope you can tell that I’ve clearly moved on from him.”

Roger sighed. “Once we figured out what had truly happened, I started researching whether I could do it myself. To come back, I mean.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “How on earth do you research something like that?”

Roger shrugged. “Spoke with Mrs. Graham, for one thing. Met with some local druids, if you can believe that. Did some research at the Inverness newspaper to find other unexplained disappearances in the vicinity of the stone circle.” He paused. “Frank tried to go back – he went to the stone circle first.”

Jamie started. “Is he here? Did he follow ye?”

Claire rose and rested a hand on Jamie’s chest. “Jamie – no – ”

“Claire.” He grabbed her hand. “If he’s here, I must…I must speak wi’ him. I-”

“He’s not here,” Roger said softly. “He’s dead.”

Claire crumpled into the chair. “What?”

“Heart attack, six months ago.”

She closed her eyes. Jamie stilled beside her but his body tensed, still coiled for action.

She waited a moment to speak – and when she did, her voice was soft, weary, but firm. “I will ask you again, Roger. Tell me why you are here.”

“To see you, of course. To see if it was really you – and to see how you’d lived your life. And I wanted to see if it was possible to – to actually live for a while in the time I’ve spent the past few years of my life studying, getting to know so well.”

She didn’t respond for a long while, and he thought she’d fallen asleep.

Suddenly her eyes opened – cold. “You’re a bloody tourist,” she hissed.

“A tourist? No, I’m a historian. I wanted to see if it was possible. It is possible, for me. I know it’s not possible for everyone. Frank couldn’t do it. So I did it – to honor him. And I’ll stay here for a while – I found you, and delivered the news to you as I’d intended. And then in a bit I’ll go back.”

She rose and rested her arms on the desk, leaning across it, towering over him. “Do you just mean to come here and play around for a while, then? To study us like we’re some kind of science experiment? Test out your theories?”

He leaned back slightly. “No, I don’t mean that. I -”

“You can’t just drop in and out of a time like this. It’s dangerous, every day. You have no idea how dangerous it can be here.”

He raised one eyebrow, challenging. “You’re safe on this estate, with your husband and his family to protect you.”

Jamie laid a hand on her back, and she straightened. “You fucking naïve idiot,” she said slowly, deliberately, voice full of ice. “You can’t just play around. I’ve seen acts of violence and absolute depravity that would make your skin crawl. Men have tried to rape me. I was put on trial for witchcraft. I have fought a war. I have seen men die from simple infections and women die in childbirth. Soldiers have assaulted me and unjustly seized my family’s property. I have killed. I have done violence. I have aided and abetted criminals. I lost a child.”

She breathed short, shallow breaths. “And I’m only a woman. I won’t even begin to tell you what Jamie has been through, in his life. You have no idea how dangerous it is to be a man here, Roger.”

“But you’ve chosen to stay, Claire – you never went back. And I assume the two of you had – have – children together, yet you’ve chosen to raise them here.” He rose and rested his own hands on the desk, eyes level with hers. “All those things you’ve said may be true – and still you’ve chosen to stay. Why?”

Claire swallowed, trying to settle herself. “Because I’m a realist. I know what this world is capable of, and I try my best to prepare myself for it.” She breathed in and out, deeply. “And I have Jamie. I met him the day I fell through the stones. I married him a few weeks later. He is my protector. He has a sense of honor that men in your time don’t. He’s kept me safe. He’s kept our family safe.” Her eyes pierced his. “At a personal cost so great that it’s difficult to comprehend. He has sacrificed many times so that I didn’t have to. So that our children didn’t have to.”

Jamie lay his hand atop Claire’s on the desk. Roger startled to see it had been mangled – broken badly – clearly many years ago. That proved Claire’s point, then.

Roger nodded, processing. “Did you never want to go back, then? Never want to go back to Frank?”

She sighed. Roger watched Jamie’s fingers curl around hers. “I did at first. But I wasn’t sure if I could get back – to go back to that time. And then I realized that I didn’t want to. Even with the pain, the heartbreak, the violence, the danger.” She sighed. “And now I’ve been here so long that this is my time. Your time – it must be 1964? – it’s not my own. My life is here.”

Roger slowly sank back into his chair. “And not with Frank?”

She shook her head. “Roger, I love Jamie. He is my breath, the blood and bone in my body. He understands me – truly understands me. Frank, bless him, never did. It’s as simple as that.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jamie finally broke the tension. “Will ye stay wi’ us, then? For tonight at least?”

Roger met Jamie’s wary eyes. “If you’ll have me.” He tried and failed to meet Claire’s gaze. “Will you introduce me to your family?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, I will. Though God knows how.”

theaggressiverobin  asked:

Corvosider "You're warm" (maybe with recently made human!Outsider?)

Voices speaking in quiet tones were all that could be heard from the room next door, and only if he concentrated could the Outsider hear which one belonged to Billie and which was Emily’s. At first he had perhaps expected shouts or yelling, but the small smile Emily threw Billie before they disappeared had removed that suspicion. Instead there was nothing but peacefulness; nothing to stop his mind from going in circles.

Corvo was staring at him, silently, just like he had done ever since they had laid eyes on each other. Emily had been the one to talk, to ask questions and demand answers, while her father was as quiet as a statue. If it had been any other the Outsider supposed he would have felt uncomfortable or annoyed by the constant focus on him—but Corvo was different. Had always been, since he first caught the Outsider’s attention. The only source of irritation the Outsider felt was by his inability to look into Corvo’s mind and see what feelings were hiding there.

For once the Outsider found it hard to return the steady gaze. He wanted to speak, but there were no words that seemed fitting. Should he explain his situation in more details? Should he apologize for not contacting Corvo, for not letting him know what was happening? Should he ignore the question of the Void and ask how the rebuilding of the city went, even though he still knew more about the detailed work than Corvo himself? Should he ask how Corvo’s day had been? Should he talk about the weather? That was what people did when they didn’t know what to say, didn’t they?

Keep reading

Excuse me guys, I bring bad news: this morning I fell from a ladder while I was at work. I dislocated my right shoulder and I beat stronger the elbow (always right) so much that my arm is totally immobilized now. I have already solved all without surgery and I didn’t need plastered, but the orthopedist told me to sit still at least until Friday. therefore my work will suffer a slowdown. I don’t know if I will remain blocked until Friday, I might go crazy (damn)…

Originally posted by dbareactions