chaotic rhythm

Behind The Door

Castiel x Reader 

Word Count: 1678 

Warnings: swearing, dirty language, sexual tension, masturbation, oral sex, smut. 

**Sorry, this is yet another late night creation. Enjoy?

You stared into the deep blue eyes across the map room table. The angel was there again, pretending to be of some help to the brothers. You had only met the being a few times before, and every time he was involved, things got… distracting. Sure, he was as sexually advanced as a pre-pubescent sixth grader, but his appeal was…

Out of this universe.

Keep reading

It’s Me, Sweetheart

Characters/Pairing: Dean x Reader, Mary, Cas (mentioned), Sam (mentioned)

Word Count: 1860

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: Blood, guns, some swearing, maybe a little angst? Basically supernatural stuff. Season 12 spoilers!

Summary: Dean and Mary show up at the bunker and find an injured reader and Sam missing.

Author’s Note: Okay, so a few things: I don’t know where Mary actually got her clothes but I’m gonna assume from the Impala and we’ll leave it at that, I tried to keep the dialogue as close to the original scene but some things are changed, most specifically that Mary almost shoots the reader and not Cas, there’s a brief third person section for Dean and Mary, and when I started writing this a few months ago (I kind of forgot about it, oops!) I was thinking I would do another couple parts and extend it till when they get Sammy back but now I’m not so sure I’m going to. If people like this and want me to write a few more parts I’ll consider it, but honestly I found this difficult to write for some reason and it’s not really what I was hoping for. I wouldn’t be changing anything except for the addition of the reader, but basically it would just be a rewrite and we all know what happens with Sam already (and if you don’t know you probably shouldn’t be reading this yet anyway!) so I hope you guys don’t feel like I’m leaving you hanging. So let me know if you guys want more, but no promises. Wow that was a lot of words, sorry guys! Happy reading!

If you would like to read any of my other fics please check out my Masterlist!

*Gif is not mine, all gifs used on my blog are from Google Images.*

     Darkness faded in and out of your vision as your eyes fluttered open, your head pounding and something warm and thick dripping down the side of your face. You groaned and reached up with a shaky hand, wincing as you made contact with a gouge on your forehead. You pulled your fingers away and found them coated in blood.

     “That Bitch.”

     You put your hands on the library table in front of you and used it to claw your way off the ground, wobbling when you finally managed to stand up. Your head was throbbing and you felt nauseous. You swore again when you saw the blood on the floor.

     “Sam?!” you called into the silence, your voice echoing off the walls and piercing the eerie quite. You used the table and chairs to make your way out of the library and crouched down in front of the red stain on the floor.

     That woman was going to regret ever touching Sam.

Keep reading

Enter Sandman, Nursing Edition


I’m dreaming

I looked down the hall at this oddly still moment at 2am. Custody of 9 patients on this side  in a full ICU. A night that was either going to be met somewhere down the line litigiously, or with one of us creating unintentional harm.  

It’s an odd sort of witching hour, where the unit has all but settled, save for a few chaotic rhythms and ventilator beeps, crying families and wandering sleepy eyed  residents. The hour where nurses are either going to start going on breaks, or ditch the idea completely, the hour where the one nurse on the tail end of three-way cross coverage is alone for an hour with all patients . The hour where on one side, 3 nurses have three critical patients each, the norm that shouldn’t be the norm.


By luck of the night, the gods, the patients are still alive.

Or maybe it’s fight or flight response.

I’m assessing my patient who almost self extubated, when I hear a ventilator beep in the distance, loud, urgent red alarm - how do I leave this patient? What would NCLEX say, I muse, as I retie the restraints safely, and scurry down the hall. A second patient attempting to self extubate and climb over the side rails. I look down at her face, she looks frightened, and for a moment I am swept by how it must feel to wake up with a tube in place, with no idea what was happening. And for the second time, I resentfully think of what NCLEX would say here, with the “most important priority,” which in an ideal world wouldn’t be to simply keep the patient safe, but also to take the time to explain what was happening without the fear of someone extricating themselves from a restraint, falling, or decompensating from too much sedation…where’s the balance?


I’m dreaming again. I walk into a room, and the bed is saturated in blood, my patient has pulled his A - Line out, the one to one  companion, asleep.  I shoot over and hold pressure, startling the companion awake, shouting down the hallway, simultaneously realizing, there is no one to help. She scoots off, and returns with a bored shrug. The first nurse is back from her break, helping with line insertion on her new admission. There are no doctors, the other side nurses are involved in a cardiac arrest. It’s me alone, and it seems forever that I am holding pressure. Will this nightmare end?


It feels like it’s the first time I’ve really looked at my stepdown level patient, despite the hourly rounds. She’s an elderly lady, not a peep out of her all night, sleeping quietly. She has no one at her bedside, it’s a cold and empty room, and she’s alone. I step in and she looks hopeful - hopeful for a little conversation, hopeful for some interaction, and I just feel sad. I feel sad that I can’t pull up a chair, shut the door, pull the curtain closed, and just keep her company.


It’s the last hour, a chance to pull it all together, resurrect the night. Except we can’t take it back. The frightened patient extubated herself.The cardiac arrest expired. The A Line person needed four units of blood. I couldn’t give the one thing that wasn’t taught in nursing school to my elderly patient.

We are factory workers, going down the line to help one another turn, clean, replace electrolytes, hang new IV bags, organize rooms in record time…All the while silent

I’m not dreaming. This is reality, when supervisors, administrators leave for the day, and night shift is left to survive..It  isn’t the nurse I want to be.

We aren’t nurses tonight, it doesn’t feel like we helped anybody tonight, survival nursing.

7 am

I can hear crying, but I can’t seem to find what room it’s coming from, patients are either sedated, or appear asleep. I roam from room to room… the crying continues. I pass by a mirror, and I realize, it’s me.


I breathe a sigh of relief, report is complete.

I walk back to the room of my elderly patient.  I can’t take back what I didn’t do the night before, but I can do more, now. I can hope for another chance to do more, again.

I sit in the empty chair at her bedside, that’s known no family, nor any guests. I watch her for a little while as she sleeps, and I too, fall asleep.

I fall into a dreamless sleep where I am free of responsibility.

A Coffin For All That I Love: Part 1 We’ll Relive Your Story Again

Part 2  

 Part 3

 Part 4

Words:4342 in this part

Characters: Thranduil, Legolas, Guriel ( Original Character),Elrond

Based on: Imagine being an archer from Rivendell, a young Legolas sees you in the annual archery contest and becomes your fan; his father asks that you become his tutor. The years go by and you’ve become a mother figure as Legolas grows up, and you’ve fallen in love with his father, having no idea he feels the same about you - Imaginexhobbit

An: So I was going to wait a while and edit this a bit more but I couldn’t wait anymore to post this series. The finish product is 12,000 + words so i split it up into 4 (?) parts. here is le premier. thanks to @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor for helping me edit this ( though I may have jumped the gun and edited the last part myself out of excitement) You’re the best!.

The cheers and wails of the normally tranquil elves in the crowd ricocheted and echoed rambunctiously through the grounds as arrow after arrow was shot. Rivendell’s annual archery competition brought large crowds and contestants from across all the elvendoms. The festivity brought even the great king of Mirkwood to spectate. Thranduil sat high in the stands with Lord Elrond upon his left, watching silently as the targets were struck. He was reclining and watching the competition with mild interest. He applauded Elrond’s twins as they appeared to sweep the competition in an arguably unfair manner,,but his enjoyment was minuscule compared to that of the bouncing prince seated to his right. Legolas cheered, jumped,and all but refused to sit as the excitement erupted from him like an angry volcano. Thranduil couldn’t help but smile at his son, his joy almost seemed contagious. He wished he could feel the excitement and joy his son felt, but he could not find any true interest in the competition. With the archery games illuminating his son in a way he had not seen before, he could not dampen Legolas’ spirits with his own dismal state.

Keep reading

the soft overhang of new green growth provides little shelter from the gently falling rain. The pure grey sky betrays a startling lack of depth as if staring into infinity; the clouds releasing their offering to the ground below. Staccato chirping intermingles with the pitter pattering of drops, offset by the all at once harsh and soft warble of brass instruments giving voice from the record on hand. The ensuing combination creating a sort of new age jazz band. Nature combined with human intent blossoming like the spring flowers around into a new creation. Life is all at once chaotic and planned, finding rhythm where there is none, seeing patterns as an act of meaning. 


Shattered Like Glass (Part 3)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1387

Warnings: swearing, violent language, mild angst, kissing, masturbation (both self and mutual), smut.

Part 1, Part 2

The air in Dean’s hotel room was thick with anger and adrenaline. You and Dean both had quite the temper, and both of your angry switches were activated. You sat on the corner of Dean’s bed, your legs crossed and arms folded over your chest.

“So, all of this bullshit started because you couldn’t handle the thought of me and Sam being a thing? But, instead of coming to me to talk about it, you pout like a toddler and throw the tantrum of the century? I thought I knew you better, Dean Winchester. I mean, you are one of my best friends. You and Sam both.” Your voice is hoarse. Your buzz was long gone and all that was left was your anger. “Look, I’m here now. Just talk to me like a normal human being.”

Keep reading

Sunset Frost

Characters: Ice Skater Jimin/Reporter Reader

Length: 8985 words

Genre: Fluff

Author: Faryn

Summary: He was a sports star who skated in fame and you were an unknown reporter with not much taste for champions.

The sharp sound of skates cutting across the ice filled your ears for the 100th time since you entered the busy indoor ice rink. You were currently sitting on a set of frozen bleachers with possibly the absolute worst view of the professional ice arena. Reporters, sports columnists and fans were all milling about in front of you, blocking your disinterested view, and filling the echo of the hall with a loud buzzing of excitement.

The tournament favorite was supposed to be here soon, to enter and perform in a flourish and yet again wow the judges and shatter records and win first place and earn a standing applause. You glanced down at the slightly crumpled paper assigned to you from your employer at a small sports journalism company. This was one for your very first jobs and your excitement had initially overwhelmed you until your eyes had laid upon the name that seemed to scream back at you from every corner of the sports world.

Park Jimin.

You heard that he was a skating legend, that he would move with such eloquence and beauty that he might as well be water. You heard that he had already won hundreds of glinting trophies that he used for his doorstep sometimes. You heard that he was an ice skating prodigy since he could walk and that he could get anyone to fall in love with him with only a flash of his smile.

Keep reading

redphlox  asked:

12. Kiss on the nose + SoMa

I really hope this is as fluffy as it made me feel, or else I’m gonna be disappointed.

The rain that fell against the windows created its own rhythm. Chaotic and senseless, it was the perfect lullaby. From the corner of his eye Soul could see that it was affecting Maka, who struggled to keep her eyes opened.

Keep reading

… like her poetry

her eerie punk poetry
throws confetti
at the
the neurological
aplomb of navigating ideas

sinking into the festival
of her hormonal eruptions … as

lovers trace
the aches of
warped stamina … onto the moon …

remembrance of
her swirly erotic revivals

she is the root of
the book of solvents
basking in the alchemies
of pirated epiphanic psyches …

feminine gestures
with fingered frenzy
migrating into textasis

her poems
love me at

temptations …

in hidden chambers
are chaotic … like her poetry …
in the indulgence of her vertigo … torqued
into the dance of my insatiable flossy madness.


Have you ever wanted to be part of a music magazine, and reviewing artist albums? How about interviewing bands and asking them insightful questions that most magazines don’t? How about photographing at concerts and writing reviews of the concert afterwards? 

Chaotic Rhythm is looking for new writers, photographers, and reviewers to add to our staff! If you’re interested, please email the following information to or!

For Writers/Reviews/Interviewers:
Age: (We like to know what base of people we’re drawing in)

Location: (This can just be the nearest big city by you. We’re not asking for your home address. It’s neccessary for possible concert oppertunties.)

Musical Interests: (Such as favorite bands. Again, we like to know what you like so that we can get a grasp on what bands we need to inquire about.)

You will also have to include a 500 word album review so that we know what level your writing is at. Here at  Chaotic Rhythm we like to have skilled writers who can come off as professional. 

For Photographers:
Age: (We like to know what base of people we’re drawing in)

Location: (This can just be the nearest big city by you. We’re not asking for your home address. It’s neccessary for possible concert oppertunties.)

Musical Interests: (Such as favorite bands. Again, we like to know what you like so that we can get a grasp on what bands we need to inquire about.)

You will also need to include five of your best photographs that you have taken at a concert. We will discuss your application with our head photographer.

Craving [Klaine, PG]

Set around Kurt’s first few weeks in New York, Season 4, prior to 4.04.   Fluff.  Angst.  Mostly the promise of something more. Hints of trouble on the horizon – and hope. Enjoy.  ~1400 words

Also available on ffnet and AO3.

Living in a big city makes Kurt feel infinite.

Keep reading