calm after the storm

If I didn’t know that there will be a wedding in a few weeks, tonight’s episodes would have been excruciating. Aaron & Roberts pain was so hard to watch but I just kept up the mantra “ Robert tells Aaron that he will stand by him no matter what”

So through all the misery tonight there is a light at the end of the tunnel & by God I’m sticking to it!!!

Ten toasts for uncertain times

1. To the hedgehog of truth, and all who pull the litter of lies from its bristles.
2. To draining our glasses, lining them with soft wool, offering them to adorable baby animals as beds and posting the results on the internet.
3. To the wandering and lost: may there be a lantern and a hearth for them, and a welcoming door open in the darkness.
4. To the calm of the ocean after the storm, and the first sunrise after the clouds have cleared.
5. To time, which no wall can endure.
6. To the construction and maintenance of an efficient fuck supply chain, such that we may give a fuck when it is needed but not otherwise have fuck silos overflowing with excess fucks.  
7. To the tide that is ebbing, but will one day turn again.
8. To the passing of months and the change of seasons.
9. To the toast in the kitchen of uncertain times: may it fuel us for the work that is to come.
10. To people: may they never forget that other people are also people.

It’s 2:28AM and My Head is Pounding From Crying So Hard. I Finally Broke The Way I Always Do From Holding So Much In and My Husband Held Me and The Pair Of Us Talked and He Pulled Me Back From The Edge Again.
He Saved Me Again and Now I’m Having Tea on The Couch Like None of This Happened and I Hope Tomorrow is Good To Me…I Hope Tomorrow is Good To Us.

The Value of a Life

It was the calm after the storm. Baker Street was quiet and dark, the shadows playing softly along the floor as the breeze blew the drapes in a gentle wave.

Hearing a soft cry, Sherlock sat up and stole silently from the bed, leaving the exhausted Molly to her slumber, drawn to the hand-carved cot in the corner.

He leaned over the side and traced his finger along the soft skin of his son’s cheek and his heart clenched, in both wonder and fear.

At his father’s touch, the baby scrunched his nose and twisted his body, another cry on his lips. Sherlock immediately scooped him up and cradled him high on his chest.

After bending to kiss Molly’s forehead, he left the room, his heart in his hands.

Out in the lounge, he soothingly rubbed the baby’s back and walked the floor until he settled back down, his lips parted in sleep.

Sherlock pressed his lips to the top of his son’s head and closed his eyes. ‘I love you. And I will always be there for you.’

From her place by the book-covered desk, the phantom of Mary Watson smiled.

In saving my life she conferred a value on it. It is a currency I do not know how to spend.

‘You’re doing just fine, Sherlock Holmes,’ she whispered.

@thedoorfacesnorth asked: Imagine Jamie is home unusually early, he is in their apartment in Paris looking out the window to see Claire arrive in the carriage, she is wearing her Dior outfit…It is the day after their night in the alcove and he hasn’t been able to think of anything but her…

Peace. Absolute, utter peace in body. And mind.

And soul.

Everything today had been fresh, new – as if seeing the apartment and the carriage and Jared’s offices for the first time, blinking in the sharp sunlight like a hare emerging from its warren after a thunderstorm.

Claire – Sorcha. The light in his darkness – his calm amid so many storms.

They hadn’t returned to bed after Charles had left – preferring to draw the sliding doors shut and nestle, skin on skin, in the small, safe darkness of the alcove.

Talking. And feeling. And tasting. And loving.

The child had been awake most of the night as well. Claire’s mouth hadn’t stopped smiling.

Magic.

And when they’d heard footsteps in the living room – with the pale glow of dawn seeping beneath the door – he had wrapped Claire in his plaid, helped her to her feet, and ushered her quickly to their bedroom. Nodding at Magnus, busy trimming the wicks in the lanterns, not caring for the first time in a long time of a stranger seeing his back.

Then he’d shut the door – and Claire had turned to him and dropped the plaid. And then they loved – slowly, languidly – for the first time in their sumptuous, decadent bed.

He hadn’t washed this morning – not willing to lose the scent of her on his skin.

It had been only six hours since they parted – him for the docks, her for the Hopital – but he craved her.

No use looking at the account books today – not when his heart thrummed with joy, with completeness, for the first time in a long time.

Finally – hoofbeats on the cobblestones in the courtyard. The carriage glided in. The footman jumped off to set the footstool in place and open the door. Magnus emerged from the shadows to extend a welcoming arm –

Claire.

Even from behind – with only the back of her hair visible beneath that ridiculous hat and the lovely shiny white and black silks of her dress – she was so very beautiful.

One long white glove extended to take Magnus’ arm, easing out of the carriage.

She disappeared into the house.

Jamie flew through the parlor and down the stairs to greet his wife with a kiss.

She smiled against his lips, inhaling deeply.

He pulled back, gasping.

“I love you,” he rasped.

Her eyes – her smile – were dazzling.

ninjago season template
  • episode 1: the antagonist appears and attacks one person at random! chaos ensues!
  • episode 2: Somebody Explains Shit That They've Been Hiding For Years.
  • episode 3: the ninja make a plan to try to figure out what's going on. it works, but at a high price.
  • episode 4: the ninja try to find more information and have to face a variety of obstacles in order to do so, also at a potentially high price.
  • episode 5: the epic midseason fight™.
  • episode 6: supposedly the calm after the storm, but shit quickly hits the fan.
  • episode 7: team takes a weird detour somewhere which accomplishes nothing and ultimately wastes time on the way to their goal.
  • episode 8: team makes a last-ditch effort to defeat the villain without having to resort to a final battle, but unfortunately it fails. one of the best episodes of the season, if not the best.
  • episode 9: beginning of the finale. an ok episode at best which is extremely underwhelming compared to the previous episode
  • episode 10: yay we win but ooh whats that scary new villain??????
It Was The Way- Bucky Barnes Imagine

It was the way she looked in the sunlight, the way she seemed to have a heavenly light about her. It looked like she wore a golden halo even though she would say she was far from an angel. Her skin seemed to glow in the lazy Sunday evening sun.

It was the way she looked when a storm was roaring outside. She would always sit by the window in one of his long sleeved shirts while watching the lightning crack and dance across the sky. She would eventually notice him in the doorway and beckon him closer with a grin. He would indulge in her silent request to be next to her.

It was the way her arms wrapped around him after he woke up from yet another nightmare. She calmed the raging storm within his mind and held him tight. She held him tight so he would know that it was real, that she was real.

It was the way she looked at him from the very beginning. Her eyes softened from just the sight of him, it had always been that way. It was a look reserved solely for him and he relished in that fact. Her eyes would only calm for him and him alone.

It was the way she was that Bucky knew he was in love with her. He would always love her with everything he had in him.

We’re so attracted to beautiful things - beautiful people, beautiful words - that we forget the beauty of simplicity. I want to live in the moments. I want to be comfortable sitting still. I don’t want every moment to be perfect, or beautiful. I don’t want to chase this dream that every day of my life will be great, because that’s not beautiful. We only appreciate the calm after the storm. We actually enjoy the rain after a drought. I learned to love myself after you destroyed me, and my revival is what made me beautiful. I lost all my thorns, and I wilted, and I died, and then I rose like a phoenix from the ashes. I’m not chasing passion, or a thrill, or excitement, or even beautiful. I want simple - because if everything transforms into a movie, then that’s it - I won’t feel alive in a fantasy.
—  excerpt from my journal. 
Calm after the Storm

Request: Dean getting really angry with reader for doing something he told her not to, and when she tries to confront him about it and apologize, he gets pissy with her, so then she decides to sleep in her old room while he fixes his attitude. And one day she notices that her blanket is gone, only to find Dean lying on the bed with it, whimpering and crying over it. Then happy ending!

Thank you so much @pepewinchester for requesting, I hope this is what you wanted! Sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos. 

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: Blood, Violence, not edited, cursing, Dean being a jerk

Word count: 1,768  

The impala’s engine hummed loudly filling the angry silence. I sat in the back seat holding a piece of cloth to my bleeding forehead. Sam sat quietly in the passenger seat while Dean drove in quiet rage, his hands tightly clenching the steering wheel and he avoided making eye contact through the review mirror. I rolled my eyes at his immaturity and leaned my head back and looked outside the window. The dark road only illuminated by the impala’s headlights while the moon illuminated the empty fields that we drove by. My whole body ached after my pathetic attempt of killing an angry spirit, but I didn’t dare complain. In my defense I didn’t know it the very angry spirit of a 6’7 championship wrestler. Sam awkwardly cleared his throat and neatly swept his hair out of his face as he cradled his now broken arm to his chest. It was my fault he was hurt and I felt horrible. The spirit was choking me, and Sam tried to stop him but that only made the spirit angrier and snapped Sam’s arm like a twig. I had apologized over and over but Sam said he had already forgiven me. Dean was a different story.

            “So I-” Sam began but was immediately cutoff.

            “Why the hell did you ago? I told you that you couldn’t handle it!” Dean’s angry voice shook me down to my core.

            “You aren’t my father Dean, you can’t tell me what to do! And I was handling it just fine before you got there!” I yelled back angrily. Dean yanked the steering wheel to the right and drove the impala off the road and recklessly onto the gravel. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car; I bit my lip in attempt to keep my groans of pain from my movement quiet. I slammed the impala door only fueling Dean’s fire. I ignored him yelling out my name telling me to get back there and just kept walking down the road; Dean was out of the car with Sam following close behind. He grabbed onto my arm spinning me around to face him. I winced when his fingers tightened around the forming bruises that the angry spirit had left. His hold softened but his eyes were as pissed as ever.

            “Hey! We aren’t finished here! I am not your father but I am your boyfriend and when I tell you not to do something it’s because I’m trying to protect you! You were getting murdered back there, what if Sam and I weren’t there to save your ass huh? Sometimes you are just so stubborn and one day you’re going to get one of us killed!” Dean yelled.

            “Dean, stop.” Sam said in a quiet voice, and layed his good hand over Dean’s shoulder but Dean shrugged it off angrily.

            “No Sam, stay out of it. If she hadn’t gone to that warehouse like I told her not to, she wouldn’t be covered in bruises and you wouldn’t have a broken arm right now. Enough is enough, her recklessness and impulsive behavior is out of control and I refuse to let her be the reason you get killed!” He said and I knew he was right. I almost got Sam and myself killed. I yanked my arm out of Dean’s grip and faced both of them.

            “I am sorry! Is that what you wanted to hear?! I was wrong; I shouldn’t have gone on this stupid hunt alone ok? …. You know what?! Don’t worry I’ll keep my reckless and impulsive self away from you two.” I laughed bitterly and turned my back to them and started to walk again.

            “Y/N!” Dean shouted at me furiously. I flipped him off without turning to look at him.

            “Leave me alone!” I shouted rage burning through my veins.

            “Fine!” he shouted back, “Get in the car Sam!” the doors slammed shut and the impala roared to life, its black sleek body blurred right by me. The familiar sting in my eyes started and the tears that I had been holding back began to freely flow down my cheeks as I watched the tail lights disappear into the night. I walked for about an hour until I finally reached the bunker and even though I was cold, hungry, and in pain both physically and emotionally, I refuse to let Dean see me crying over his words. If he wanted to be an ass then fine. As I approached the bunker, I didn’t see the impala parked outside but there were lights lit up inside the bunker and knew Dean was out later, probably a bar to hook up with some stupid blonde. I walked down the steps and pulled the heavy door open letting the warm air welcome me. Sam came running out of another room and let out a relieved sigh. His hand was now wrapped and he had his old cast duct taped closed around his arm.

            “Thank God you’re home Y/N, we were worried.” He said. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

            “Yeah right, Dean didn’t seem very worried when he left me, when both of you left me.” I said resentfully. I pushed him aside and walked down the endless hallway of the bunker. Sam’s giant body following me to Dean and I’s shared room.

            “Dean was angry, he wasn’t thinking straight. I tried to get him to go back for you but he just dropped me off here and left.” He tried to explain and I took a deep breathe before turning around to look up at him. It wasn’t fair to be mad at Sam for Dean’s actions.

            “I know Sammy, I’m sorry, I’m just not having a great night.” I tried to smile but Sam could see right through it. I opened the door to our- Dean’s room now. I grabbed a clean pair of clothes and snatched my blanket off the bed. I walked out of the room where Sam was patiently waiting for me. He arched a brow and crossed his arms over his massive chest.

            “What are you doing?” he asked.

            “While Dean adjusts his attitude, I think it’s best if I sleep in my old room. Just until he cools off.” I said and he nodded. He walked me back to my room and offered to clean my bloody forehead and other scratched but I politely declined. I wanted to be a lone for a while and let out a good cry in peace. I opened the door to my old room and stepped inside. It was exactly how I left it but it felt odd to be in here again after not sleeping here for months. I set my blanket on the bed and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind me. I set the clean clothes on the counter and turned on the hot water for a much needed shower. I caught my reflection in the mirror and winced. I looked like shit…bruises littered my neck and arms from the spirits unbearable grip and I began sporting a black eye with a split lip. All because I thought I could handle it by myself, I knew Dean had been right when he told me not to go but I got so angry that he barely ever let me hunt with them. I just wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t weak and I could hunt with them without holding them back. But I just made the whole situation worse. I sighed and shed the rest of my clothing before stepping into the heated water. I took my time making sure I was thoroughly clean and scrubbed my body until my skin felt raw. But the hot water felt amazing on my sore muscles. Once the hot water ran out I knew it was time to get out. I wrapped a fluffy towel around me and dried off. I was putting on my pajamas when my fingers ran across the familiar fabric of Dean’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirt that he had given me. I clutched it close to my face and inhaled his faint smell that never seemed to fade no matter how many times I washed it. I slipped it on and stepped out of the bathroom, the light was on and Dean sat on my bed with his back to me. I padded across the room and around the bed to look at him. His head was down but in his hands he clutched my blanket rubbing his thumb over the soft familiar fabric.

            “Dean,” I said and he lifted his head to face me. His green eyes seemed glossed over and red surrounded them while a few tears escaped his eyes. I could smell the whiskey radiating off of him and I knew he was drunk. I dropped to my knees in front on him and raised my palm to his stubble-covered cheek; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

           “God, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Dean’s green eyes seemed to glow in the dark room and even though he was drunk, I could tell he was being sincere.

           “I know, I’m sorry too Dean.” I apologized and he nodded in response.

           “I know I was being an ass but I was just terrified that I lost you. I was scared that I was going to lose you and Sammy. I woke up and you were gone and I really thought you would be dead by the time we got to you and I-” he couldn’t finish what he was saying before another tear escaped his eye. I immediately enveloped my arms around his warm body and held on so tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and his hand cradled the back of my head holding me closer as sobs echoed through the room and I didn’t know if they were his or mine. He lifted me off the floor and I wrapped my legs around his lean waist as layed us back on the bed. He tugged my blanket over our bodies and held me next to his body. I layed my head on his chest and listened to the recognizable heart beat that I listened to every night. His handles gently ran through my hair and down my back before repeating the soothing pattern.

           “I love you Dean Winchester.” I whispered.

           “I love you Y/N” he said and leaned down to press his lips to the top of my head. I smiled and shut my eyes letting my self drift.