Von (Hope)

Þar sem gróir þar er von.
Allt sem græðir geymir von.

Listen to [x] while reading.


On the night of May 2nd 1998, Draco Malfoy lays awake on his bed.

It’s over. He’s dead. It’s over.” His mind chants. But is it?

A dark, hooded figure that hadn’t been there a second before stands on the edge of his bed, Malfoy starts. He grasps for his wand before realizing he hasn’t got one. The hooded figure chuckles, voice acidic and cold.

“You cheated me.” It says, Draco is frozen in place, searching his brain for whoever this might be. It can’t be the Dark Lord. He’s dead. Draco saw him die today. It can’t be.

“I’m Death.” It answers the question he hadn’t voiced, the knowledge brings a sense of Deja Vu, but he can’t quite place it “and no, I’m not here to take you with me.” he fails to conceal his disappointment. The room feels colder than it had.

“You were meant to die today, in the fire, but you didn’t.” The hairs on his body stand on edge at the mention of it. He’s shaking before he realizes it.

It had been so hot, he’d been gripping Potter’s waist like a lifeline, the fire licking at the hems of his pants, his screams drowned by the roar of the flames, Crabbe falling down and being consumed by them like he was nothing. He thought he’d die. He wishes he had.

“It was written on the stars, Draco Malfoy. However did you cheat the heavenly bodies?” It drawls out impatiently, he doesn’t know the answer. Is he supposed to?

“For this, however.” Death says, swishing it’s cloak, bony hands showing “I owe you a wish. Any wish at all.”

Draco’s eyes widen and his heart picks up speed in his chest. Any wish at all.

He suddenly remembers hearing a similar story to this one. Every bone in his body advices him not to accept, for Death could only be cunning and deceitful, not giving and generous.

Or perhaps Life was the first two and Death’s sweet release was the last. Perhaps life had been the cruel one all along. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to feel all of this, where the guilt doesn’t eat him alive, where he never takes the Dark Mark, where war doesn’t kill hundreds, where he’s happy.

He realizes that even if Death is fooling him, he doesn’t mind the likely outcome.

“I want a time turner” he says firmly “One capable of going back to 1991.” If Death is surprised, it doesn’t show it, it moves it’s hands in a swish and a time turner appears between them. It floats until it settles on Draco’s hand.

“Act wisely, Malfoy boy. For I can only grant you one wish.” It says, the ghost of a smile behind the dark hood. Then disappears.

Draco clutches the object and adjusts the time. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if it’ll work. Maybe he’s already dead and doesn’t know it, he doesn’t mind much. 

Doesn’t care to find out.

He closes his eyes and is launched into the paradox of time and space. He sees a colorless void and falls falls falls. His body small and insignificant in the never-ending space. Just when he’s starting to become fond of the quiet nothing and the soothing air touching his face, his stomach twists and he appears in a room that he knows too well. High ceilings and cool toned ancient furnitures. No feeling of home or coziness despite belonging to a child.

His childhood bedroom. If one could call it that.

He looks at the clock with a sharp twist and beneath the time, it reveals the date.

July 31st of 1991.

He almost can’t believe he has succeeded, but can’t dwell on his fear and excitement too long, for a small boy whom he knows too well and not at all stands at the foot of his bed, staring at him in horror. It’s a shock, seeing himself so full of life in the innocence of a child who doesn’t know what the future entails. A child with eager eyes and a prideful chest. Malfoy realizes he’s a ghost of what this child is.

“Who are you?” The small one shrieks. Draco presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He’s grateful that the Manor is big enough for them not to be heard.

“I’m you. From the future.” young Draco flinches back and is about to start shouting again, before he seems to take in Draco’s features and connects them to an older version of himself. His eyes widen and Draco can see himself panic and glance around frantically, although also subtly, for an escape.

Slytherins. He thinks fondly.

“That’s not possible. Why-how are you here?” He demands.

“I have a story to tell you. But the first thing you need to know.” He swallows a lump in his throat “is that today you will be meeting a boy as you get fitted for your Hogwarts robes. I want you to change what you will say to him, for it’ll change how he sees you. It is extremely important that you do so.”

“Why? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” young Draco looks even more confused, of course he is.

Draco explains as much as he can and sugar coats what a child shouldn’t have to know. He attempts to explain to his own self that the opinions of his father are wrong, the small Draco tries to protest, but he doesn’t allow him to and continues telling him what’ll happen if he doesn’t listen carefully. By the end, his voice is hoarse and little Draco looks sick with fear. But he nods, seemingly understanding he has a duty to perform even if he doesn’t quite understand all of it it. Ah, the usual Malfoy, accepting what’s presented to him, born to please his elders, he thinks bitterly.

“Who’ll be the boy I’ll meet today?” His younger self asks tentatively when Draco is done talking and stands up. Draco smiles nostalgically as he adjusts the time again.

“I have put my faith in you, what you choose to do from now can change everything.” He says, and just as he feels the void sucking him in again, he says his last words to the last hope he’s got.

“And Draco, one last thing.” the kid nods “offer him your hand before you learn his name.”


where things grow, there is hope,
all that heals has hope.

Stealing Sweaters (Part 8)

Thank you so very much! To this anon and all the others that have sent me such wonderful messages!

  If you’re new to the series, please start here!

“What do you want, Pansy?” Draco asked bitterly, pulling his cloak around himself more tightly as a bitingly cold wind gust of wind swept of over them on the Hogwarts grounds.

“Nothing wrong with a little fresh air, is there?” Pansy said primly.

Draco’s expression darkened, “You hate fresh air and pointless exercise. If you’re going to lie to me at least try to be a little more clever about it.”

Pansy was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the faint crunch of the thin layer of snow, frozen hard overnight, melting in places under a brilliant late winter sun that seemed to be promising an early spring.

“You’re in a shit mood. I wanted to help,” Pansy said, “and you happen to like long, pointless, moody walks.”

That seemed closer to the truth although Draco could tell Pansy was still hiding something. Blaise was the only one who could lie to his face and get away with it.

“They’re not moody,” Draco retorted, on principle.

Pansy snorted inelegantly, “Whatever you say, sunshine.”

They followed the path along the bank of the lake, to the edge of the forest and back again. Right before they were meant to head back into the castle, Pansy veered off, walking out onto the small dock that, as far as anyone knew, was only used for the first years boats on the very first day of every school year.

“What are you doing?” Draco grumbled but followed her out onto the creaking wood, ducking his head into his scarf as the wind whipped across the black lake.

“It’s our last year,” Pansy said quietly.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Sentimentality doesn’t suit you.”

“I didn’t say I would miss it,” she said sharply before her expression softened, “Just, a lot has happened here. It’s strange to think we won’t be coming back.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled but he kept his mouth shut, not particularly wanting to encourage Pansy one way or another into any sort of conversation that would increase the amount of time it would take to get back to the warm castle.

“I don’t want to have any regrets,” Pansy was saying, turning to him, “You know, Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow, “If you’re done reminiscing like a soppy Hufflepuff?”

She frowned at him, “Oh, just use a warming charm  if you’re cold, you ninny.”

“Or we could just leave,” he said pointedly, none-the-less taking out his wand to replace the waning warming charm he had cast before they left. He turned the tip of his wand to himself, the words of the spell on were on his lips when his feet slid out from under him.

He had one breathless moment of utter terror as he fell backwards where the world seemed to be holding its breath. He hit the water. He hadn’t the time or thought to hold his breath and the bitingly cold water over his head filled his mind with panic. His feet touched the bottom and he pushed to the surface and took a deep gasping breath. The water was only chest deep.

It was so cold it hurt.

Draco’s fear and panic was instantly replaced with pure and utter fury.

Keep reading

destiel, meeting at a masquerade

“Your majesty, the carriage is waiting.”

Castiel looked in the mirror to the servant behind him. He smiled.

“Thank you, Samandriel. Come in.” The younger boy shyly stepped in and closed the door. He approached. “How do I look?” Castiel checked himself in the mirror another time, the two ladies fixing his hair and jacket stepping away.

“You look very royal, sir. Your mother will be proud.” They smiled at each other knowingly.

Though he wasn’t that keen on showing off, Castiel had to say he liked his attire. The rich, dark blue clothes were decorated with threads of gold at the ends, small golden emblems on the cuffs, shoulders, and bottom of his long coat. The rest of the coat was covered in a lace pattern, going together with his dark blue mask.

“Thank you, Samandriel- and for the last time, call me Castiel.”

“It is your mother’s wish that I talk to you in the correct form, sir.”

Castiel knew it was, but he wished Samandriel would see him more as a friend than his master.

“Then only do so when she’s around.” He followed Samandriel out of the room after thanking the women and walked through the halls, towards the front lawn where his coach was waiting.

Before he could step in, though, his father suddenly came outside the castle.

“Castiel, wait,” King Shurley’s face lit up when he saw his son. “Oh, you look so strong and manly. Look at you- you’ve grown so big.”

“Father,” Castiel said a little embarrassed as his father checked his clothes.

“Of course,” the king said with a look at Samandriel. “I just wanted to say that me and your mother will arrive at ten, and you’ll leave with us at twelve- now remember, we’re representing our kingdom, our country- there will be lots of different royals, princesses, princes… find yourself good company.” He looked at his son with a meaningful smile, patted his shoulder and walked back inside.

Castiel looked outside the window as they drove, the horses running fast over the rough pavement. The coach hobbled a little, but Castiel was used to sitting in here for long periods of time. Being a prince meant traveling a lot, he’d soon learned. It also meant going to masquerade balls, and this would be his first.

He thought about what his father had said and smiled. Princesses, princes…. His father knew Castiel preferred the company of male royals, he always had. Though two princes being together, or two kings, wasn’t the usual, it wasn’t taboo either. The way their kingdoms seemed to agree on certain rules like this had always surprised Castiel. When he learned about the history of their kingdoms and surrounding places, the older lore always spoke of relationships between men as something bad and demonic. But ever since king Shurley and king Masters had been ruling two of the largest kingdoms at the same time, this entire image had been faded away. Castiel often wondered what would’ve happened if his father wasn’t this good of a man, so noble and strong, yet kind and understanding. What if he lived in that period of time where his feelings towards men hadn’t been accepted?

Maybe, he thought excitedly, maybe I will meet someone today. A masquerade ball was often meant for the younger princes and princesses to meet up with one another and get to know each other- find a good partner. Sometimes they were sent with a focus. ‘Go dance with prince Roman, princess Talbot makes a great companion, make sure you meet prince Adam at least!’

King Shurley hadn’t done this, thankfully. He knew Castiel would make his own decisions and wouldn’t let anyone force him into a marriage. Castiel had always had a strong will and his own way of doing tasks.

He got out of the coach when they arrived, let the coachman help him to the door and thanked him.

“I will be here at midnight, sir.” The man bowed. “Have a good evening.”

Castiel was overwhelmed by all the beauty and costumes inside. He almost forgot to put the masque over his face, but once he got used to the rich golden decorations and the many people in expensive attires, he began to notice people and people began to notice him. Many greeted him, and he did as he was told. Be neat, be kind, be humble and calm; be yourself.

Dancing had never been something he was extremely good at, but as a prince, you had to be good at everything - so he got lessons from teachers and practiced a lot with Samandriel. Now, he was able to do most performed ball dances as a second nature.

He knew he had to dance if he wanted to blend in. So he found himself on the dance floor a few minutes later, gliding around with Princess Meg from the Master’s kingdom. She was sweet, a little spicy in her words, something that made Castiel smile. He liked her, the way she was herself like he was himself, somewhat rebellious. When she almost pinched him in the eye with one of the feathers on her mask, they laughed a little too loud to be royal.

But Meg started dancing with someone else, and Castiel stood alone for a moment. He was about to walk away when he saw someone looking at him. He stopped.

The young man’s face was hidden behind a black and silver mask. From what Cas could see of his face, he was handsome with a determined, mysterious look. His hair was dark blond, a honey color. It looked rich and warm in this light and contrasting with the cold tones of his mask. He started walking, and several people turned to follow his path. He clearly walked towards Castiel. His clothes were all black and gold, a long cloak draped over his shoulders. When he came closer, Castiel could see most of his mask was metal. The stranger made a bow, which rustled his cloak. For some reason, Castiel felt like this man was too young for this outfit- from what he could see, he was no older than Cas and yet he dressed as a king, not a prince. The man took Castiel’s hands and kissed it, his lips warm on Cas’ knuckles.

“Can I have this dance from you, prince Shurley?” His voice was low but soft, a hint of daring playfulness that Castiel noticed with delight.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The man’s strong arms wrapped around him immediately. They danced on the waltz that was currently being played, swayed on the floor, gracious and slow. Castiel looked into the bright green eyes, almost entirely hidden. Freckles were speckled all over the man’s skin as far as he could tell.

Way too young for a king, but the clothes… Higher royalty. He didn’t dare to ask about it, maybe later. Castiel was being observed with the same curiosity, though there was barely anything to see with his mask on.

“It might be impolite- but how did you know who I was?” He asked.

The other smiled.

“They told me you would be here and… described you. You must understand,” The stranger leaned in as if telling a secret, “I don’t dance with princesses. I didn’t want to come at first, but my father gave orders. And then they said there would be a prince to dance with, so…”

Castiel felt himself blush under his own, golden mask. The young man smelled fresh, as if he spent a long time outside like the knights and caught all scents of flowers and lakes, with a hint of leather from horse saddles and equipment.

“So… you came for me?” Castiel concluded. His smile was returned with a smirk and the guy chuckled.

“Yes, you could say that.” He pulled him closer for another dance. “Do you mind?”

Castiel didn’t expect such a bold question and he didn’t answer at first. But looking at him, with the young man’s hand resting on his shoulder and his other hand in Castiel’s, he knew the answer.

“No, I don’t mind.” He tilted his head, frowning under his mask. “But I don’t know your name, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” The young man nodded. “I’m Dean Winchester.”

Castiel was surprised but barely showed it. He knew John Winchester had a confusing past and wasn’t always described as a great man. Dean seemed to be reading his thoughts, because he softly squeezed his hand. “Don’t- think I’m like my father. I’m not. I do as he says but there are limits. I know where he is wrong.”

Right now, Dean looked his age. The bit of expression Castiel could see was that of a young guy trying to rebel against his king and parent at once. Worried yet determined to prove himself a better man, bitter in his voice.

“It must be… interesting, having him as a father.” Castiel indirectly agreed.

“Let’s just say I’m glad to be away from home for a while. The trip was worth it.”

The smirk returned.

They danced until more people left the dancefloor for a drink, and they decided to follow them with feet tired of moving around. Dean offered Castiel his arm, a proud smile on his face when Castiel took it.

After they finished their drink, they wandered past the dancefloor until they reached a door. Dean seemed to know where he was going because he pushed he pushed it open and gestured for Castiel to go through.

“Want to get some fresh air?”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all, so Castiel went through and Dean followed. The empty hall was cold and dark, but Dean’s hand was on his back and guided him to a second door, which led to the garden behind the castle.

Lights and garlands were draped across the trees, illuminating the paths.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Dean took his arm again and they walked past the flowers and trees and all different plants Castiel barely recognized.

“We don’t have gardens like this,” he sighed. “I wish we did. It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” Dean looked around. “If I take over the kingdom- I’ll get a garden too.”

They passed two other masked people that apparently hadn’t enjoyed the warmth of the ballroom either. Dean lowered their pace when they reached a fountain, and sat down. Castiel observed him again, his long black cloak, his gloved hands, the mask. Gold glistened in the silver moonlight and played with Castiel’s temptation to touch the lining on Dean’s clothes.

“You aren’t dressed as a prince,” he broke the silence, “I mean- you look more powerful. Like a king. Why is that?”

Castiel couldn’t quite see if Dean was surprised by the question or not, but his voice sounded calm.

“It’s how my father wants me to dress. He’d rather have me impress and make people be… afraid, rather than people- holding me dear for being kind and compassionate.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good.” Dean smiled and Cas smiled back. The water rustling behind them made them feel even more separated from the festivity inside.

Castiel tried to scratch under his mask without letting it fall, and wondered if they shouldn’t just take it off. He broke the silence. “When are you going back home? Such a long trip… You can’t just be staying for a day.”

Dean didn’t answer immediately.

“I… wasn’t sure. I don’t really have plans. It kind of depended on the people I’d meet if I could stay at their castle for the night. Actually, it kind of… depended on- you.”

Castiel wished his itching mask would hide his stupid grin, but he looked away before he’d make a fool of himself.

“Right. Of course.” He huffed. “I- I don’t… You can stay the night, for my part… My father would need to approve of it first, though. “

“Good. We’ll ask him later.”

Castiel scratched under his mask again and Dean chuckled, took Castiel’s wrist and lowered it.

“Shall I take it off?” He asked and shifted. “Then you take off mine.”

“Alright.” Castiel smiled as he reached for Dean’s mask and felt Dean’s fingers on his. They carefully took them away from each other’s faces and stared at one another.

Dean’s mask had been hiding his handsome, still young face, with long dark lashes rimming his eyes. The freckles covered his entire face indeed.

“Wow,” Dean whispered and smiled, Castiel’s mask on his lap. “I wish I’d done that earlier.”

Castiel couldn’t hide his blush now, felt his heart flutter and his voice wavered when Dean, maybe on accident, shifted closer.  

“Those… th-those masks are very unfortunate.”

“Yes. They’re pretty itchy.”

Dean was leaning in now, so slow he gave Castiel all the opportunity to move away. But Castiel didn’t. He leaned in, held Dean’s shoulder with one hand to keep his balance. Their lips grazed against each other, just enough for Castiel to taste Dean’s drink on his lips. He wanted to move in, taste and feel more, pull him closer, but the sudden, loud stroke of the clock startled them both.

“It’s midnight.” Castiel realized, his cheeks warm and rosy. “I… we should get back.”

They did, their arms locked. Dean’s smile was softer now, and he kept looking aside. Castiel met his glance and smiled.

There will come a day when a Name must be gotten, though the owner cannot tell it. Your friend has been Taken, and returned in a trance, and Harbinger says xe needs a name to restore them. One of Them seeks to rescue their lover from a higher power and must weave a mighty spell to do so. A sibling seeks to win back the brother who was melded into a tree. 

On that day, someone comes before the Nicknamer. The Nicknamer is not kind, but he is not unkind, and his right hand is cloaked in shadow. He will ask, “Whose Name is it you wish to know?” He will ask, “Who are they to you?” He will ask, “Do you know what you ask for?”

The wisest turn back.

The kindest, the most loving, the most broken hearted stay. They say “yes, I know what it costs. I have brought you the payment.”

The Nicknamer smiles. “No, do you know what you ask for? Do you know what a Name is?“ They will tell him they do.

They do not. 

He says to them that there is power in a name. There is no power that remains as pure as it was when it was given. The friends will give gifts that are no longer truly as free. The Gentry seeking a lover will subsume them. The sibling will resent his family, given time. He asks them to swear an oath of fealty, on their name, that they will not harm the one they seek the name of. This is well known, that he asks that. Those who come seeking the names of enemies will find themselves bound to them.

They swear.

He steals the names, then, with his hand of shadow, and gives them to the seeker. Bound to each other they know that no use of the name will come without equal retribution. They have to stay with each other as long as the oath stands. They come to shreds, then, wishing there was some way to leave each other, to go back. The Nicknamer’s power cannot be undone.

He knows better than anyone that forever is a curse. But something in him cannot stop. His Fae hand would choke the breath from his body if he gave up his post. He swore his oath, long ago – to guide lovers to their beloveds, for a price. A price too high to pay.

A price no one resists paying.


The Plan (Young James Potter x reader)

A/N: this is so cheesy but my brain was like “you need to write this. you nEED THIS” so i did it :))

word count: 1235 (aw hell yeah)
warnings: noooope

“I can’t believe you didn’t get your form signed, Y/N!!” James huffs as you both enter the common room.

Sirius and Remus follow behind you. “Wait, you didn’t get it signed?! The first Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow!” Sirius cries, a look of panic on his face.

“You can’t possibly expect us to go without you!!” Remus exclaims.

You sit down and bury your face in your hands. “I know. I’m sorry. Just- please don’t make me feel worse about this than I already do,” You sigh.

“Wait. Guys, there could be a way we could get her there.” James implies, a smirk of realization on his face.

You lift your head to look at him. “What d'you mean? Prongs, I didn’t get my form signed.”

“We’re the Marauders, for crying out loud!” He announces, his grin growing. Remus and Sirius give him a look. “Moony, the map, if you would.” He places the map in James’s open palm. “Right here. Secret passage. Leads to the basement of Honeydukes.” He points to an entrance. “You two,” He gestures to the other two boys. “will go with the rest of the group. Y/N and I will meet you at the candy shop at noon.” He turns back to you. “We’re gonna have to use my cloak.”

“You guys can just go without me. It’s-”

“No,” The three decide all at once.

You laugh, “Alright, then.”

So, the next morning, you wait for the boys in the common room. The two dogs come down first with smiles on their faces. “Prongs’ll be down in a minute. He’s just making the last few preparations,” Sirius smirks. Preparations? Aren’t you just sneaking out under the cloak? How many preparations are needed?

“We’ll see you there, Y/N.” Remus says and claps you on the shoulder. They leave. They’re acting a bit strange, aren’t they?

James comes down a few moments later, invisibility cloak in one hand, map in the other. “Well, c'mere.” He places the cloak over your shoulders and then shortly joins you underneath it.

“A bit snug, isn’t it?” you note.

He nods. “Yeah, I suppose so.” The two of you share a beat of pure quiet, just taking in the close proximity of each other’s bodies. You swear you can feel him breathing. “Right then,” he breaks the silence. “Let’s go.”

You and he exit the common room and head to the entrance to the secret passage. “Here, take my hand. It’s- er- pretty dark down there,” James says, gesturing down the dank, gloomy staircase. “Wouldn’t want you to trip or anything.”

“We have wands, Prongs. We literally have spells to light up the tunnel,” you chuckle.

He rolls his eyes. “Just- take my hand, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin, and nod. “Alright, alright.” Your fingers interlock with his and you can’t help but feel heat rush to your cheeks. “How long until we get there?” you ask after having already walked for a good ten minutes.

“Depends.” He shrugs vaguely, absentmindedly licking his lips and glancing around the tunnel. Your hand is sticky in his. You’re not quite sure if yours is the clammy one or his. You wait for him to go on but he doesn’t.

“Depends on what?” you muse.

He merely shrugs again. “I dunno; it usually takes around an hour.”

Your eyes widen. “An hour?! James, I’m cold! I can’t-”

“I’ll keep you warm, then!” He lets go of you hand and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. “We are not going to Hogsmeade without you, so suck it up.”

Okay, your heart is pounding. You clear your throat. “O-okay, then.” You have to force the words out your mouth.

He furrows his brows at you. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Just cold, like I said.”

He gives you a look. “You’re doing the nervous thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scoff. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

“The thing you do when you’re nervous. You tap your fingers on your leg. Incessantly, I might add,” he notes, poking your side playfully. You let out a giggle, not meaning to. “Now, what are you worried about? D'you think we’re gonna get caught or something?”

You exhale shakily and reply, “No. I’m not worried about anything.”

“Well then, why are you-?”

“Come off it, Prongs!” you snap. “I’m fine-”

So caught up in hiding your nerves, you aren’t watching where you’re going. You trip. Of course. You’ve stepped on the corner of the cloak and you’re about to fall.

“Y/N!” James luckily still had his arm locked around you. He pulls you back to keep you from face planting; only he pulled you back too far. You’re practically in a dip position.

You gasp so loudly. You’re catching your breath as the boy stares down at you. You feel him grip you tighter, draw you closer to him. Though it’s dark, he smiles down at you, and everything around you just seems so bright. In this moment, your body held up by his, nothing else matters. There is nothing else in the whole world except you and him. God, you wish that you could just tell him how much he means to you. You wish you could tell him how he’s all you think about, how he makes your legs turn to jelly when he says your name, how-

Your thoughts are interrupted by his lips pressed softly to yours. Slightly startled at first, you quickly assess the situation and find yourself kissing him back. It’s gentle and warm, just like how you’d imagined.

He pulls away, somewhat reluctantly. “I’m sorry- I’ve just been wanting to do that for so- you were just so- Are you alright?”

You nod, a grin playing on your lips. “I’m fine, now shush. You’re ruining it.”

“Sorry,” he laughs, leaning back down into you. His mouth meets yours again and you don’t think you’ve ever felt happier. There’s this fuzzy feeling pulsing through your entire being. You haven’t got a single care or worry. James Potter is holding you in his arms, kissing you. “Glad to know everything went according to plan,” he smirks against your lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire. “What plan?”

“The plan the boys and I stayed up all night plotting out. The plan for me to finally get you alone to- well- to do this,” he answers. “Moony and Padfoot have had to listen to me ogle over you since fourth year,” he chuckles, standing you upright and brushing your hair behind your ear.

You’re practically speechless. “Fourth year,” you utter. “James, fourth year?”

He bites his lip. “Yeah..”

“Me too!” you giggle, overcome with giddiness.


“Yes!” You’re full on laughing now. “I’ve fancied you for so long! Why didn’t you ever say anything?!” You’ve buried your head in the crook of his neck now.

He just laughs right along with you, shaking his head. “We’re just a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

“Think so,” you respond, grabbing his hand. “Okay, okay. We oughta get going now. Don’t wanna leave the other two waiting.”

“At this point, I couldn’t care less if they’re left waiting.” He kisses your cheek still beaming dopily. The two of you continue walking until you get to Honeydukes to tell the dogs the good news.

MariChat May: The Oracle’s Gift

Special thanks to @toukabunni33 for playing Beta for me!

Love Square

Rated: T

The Oracle’s Gift

MariChat May Prompts:

Aged Up! Chat

Aged Up! Marinette

Identity Reveal

One Shot

Adrien, in the guise of Chat Noir, had been enjoying one of his few moments of leisure at Marientte’s, laying down on her chaise, eyes watching as the girl fussed over a new design that she was making.

This moment, this was one of his favorite moments of time. Where he was able to spend time with Marinette without her stuttering. He adored watching her work, playing video games with her. Everything seemed platonic between them. Adrien quickly and easily called her his best friend after all the time he spent with her as Chat.

Sadly, he wouldn’t tell her his identity. Not until he showed Ladybug. Marinette had an ever-growing spot in his heart, but Ladybug was there first, and her grasp was still firm. He hoped one day she’d have it completely as his partner, friend… and hopefully his girlfriend, maybe more one day.

He had few days like this. When he meant days, he meant daylight hours. It took much pleading and bribing, but he had convinced Nathalie to give him a couple days off just to hang out with friends and get his energy back. Between school, modeling, and all of his extra lessons—not to mention his time as Chat Noir—he was completely burnt out energy wise.

It was when his Baton sounded off with an Akuma Alert from the Ladyblog that he hissed in annoyance.

He heard a lighter hiss, Marinette shaking her hand, the sound having startled her enough that she stabbed herself in the finger with a needle.

“I’m okay! Just got my finger.” She moved the digit between her lips, looking towards him. “Go. Go save people, Chat. I’ll be here when you get back.” She said, pulling the digit away once the bleeding had stopped.

A small smile was tossed her way as he moved to go out the hatch that lead to her balcony.

Keep reading

Currently working on a Swan Prince!Victuuri AU, and it’s not going so well so have a feathery Victor instead :’3c He’s so pretty, but so hard to draw….

this anime is killing me in more ways than one

Bad Habits

Warning: NSFW [Very much citrus]

Raven had a problem.

She had always prided herself in being highly attuned to and analytical of her own emotions. It was, after all, essential for her to properly process every bubbling hormone and neural impulse that fizzled through her brain and sent her heart beating. The lives and safety of those around her depended on this, and Raven had the memories of her own failures to serve as a heavy reminder.

Still, she was loathe to admit such a girlish thing to herself, as if she was somehow above the most basic human tendencies. Perhaps at one point she had believed she was, but after some recent revelations, Raven realized that was most definitely not the case.

She liked staring at Beast Boy’s butt. Often.

His spandex-esque uniform really didn’t help the matter either; if anything, it made her dirty little hobby far easier to maintain. The material only served to emphasize his features, allowing Raven to ogle from a distance almost daily.

What made the situation even worse, was that Raven didn’t just admire his behind. She imagined things, like touching it. Often. Daily, in fact. It was as embarrassing as it was enticing, and Raven quivered at the mere thought of the changeling’s firm rear.

Keep reading

forest elves and minotaurs

a little something i wrote for @incaseyouart​‘s phan elf au ,, enjoy !!

summary: ((it’s literally just the verbal form of this post here)

words: 1.4k

t/w: none

((it starts a little slow but bare with aha)

Patrolling, as uneventful and inconceivably dull as it was, was probably the most exciting part of Dan’s week.

Which he supposed made his week pretty uneventful and inconceivably dull in itself

Patrolling alone was not particularly interesting at all. Dan had heard enough faeries tell him that their silvery glowing liquid was actually ‘a luminescent forest protection balm’ (instead of what Dan suspected it to be) to last him a few decent lifetimes. And it was just so boring, strolling around one godforsaken area of the forest for hours at a time. That wasn’t what made it interesting, though.

It was more the atmosphere of it all. 

The Darker Forest was the type of place to send shivers cascading down your spine. The breeze crawling through the fog and reaching out at the most unsuspected of moments. Grabbing onto your shoulders, cloaks, your hands, trying to tug you further into it’s depths. 

Dan lived for it. Understandable- it was to be expected of a Dark Elf.
Live in the darkness, and guard the Villages. The boring principles they were all forced to live by. Dan had strayed as far as he possible could from the stereotypes that basically governed them, opting to become a performer and the main storyteller of his village, instead of a guard or night-raiser. Yet, this month, he’d been forced into patrolling instead of performing.

The Council liked to do this sometimes, they didn’t see his storytelling as ‘contributing to their established world’, basically meaning it wasn’t a real job and he needed to pull his weight around the Village. Which he didn’t agree with in the slightest. People went batshit crazy without his stories to brighten up their days, but he guessed he needed somewhere to get his stories from- and if not the Sprite’s villages, the Darker Forest was the prefect place to find them.

Still, this job had nothing on the thrill of entertaining. The Darker Forest creeped him out, plus he was sure all the forest elves, and the river sprites and everyone else hated him for the patrolling and having to interact with everyone he came across. That was okay though, he hated it too. 

Dan stopped moving suddenly. He let out a stale breath, feeling the tree roots behind him slithering under his boots, coiling themselves around his ankles and winding up to his knees.


He needed to move faster. The tree roots around these parts tended to do that if you stood in one spot for too long, Dan figured it had something to do with the faeries ‘luminescent forest protection balm’, doing it’s luminescent forest protecting.

He grabbed at his shoes, tugging the roots from where they had attached themselves to the buckles and trampling on them, breaking into a little jog. He could hear a humming from somewhere nearby, a soft little jingle that made the ominous darkness of the forest seem a little brighter. 

Then it all dimmed again, Dan realising that humming meant people and people meant interaction. Probably a Pixie- it was in their nature to sing and hum and be generally obnoxious. 

Dan moved through the trees as quietly as he could, Pixies tended to overreact and scream when they were surprised- a sequence that often led him into a lot of trouble.

As he drew closer to the sound, he realised it was not a Pixie. It was far too deep in comparison to their strange tinkle and, in Dan’s opinion, far too nice. Something nearby was casting a strange glow now, a greenish light emitting from in front of him, lighting a clear path towards the humming sound. The wind was strengthening and Dan shivered, hiding further into his thick black cloak. The trees blew wildly, leaves raining down from them like raindrops. The sky had begun to darken and the entire forest had that sort of scent like it was about to rain. Dan hated the rain. Too cold and miserable.

He peered through the trees, curious as to see the source of the light.
It definitely was not a Pixie. A boy- a forest elf, sat crouched over a tree. He was sort of strange-looking, dressed all in green, his feet wrapped in leaves and a shawl covered his shoulders, buttoned up with little leaf clasps. 

And he was glowing.

The glow, the greenish one that tinted all the trees and lit up the entire Darker Forest, was coming from this boy, emitting from his hands and face and through the leaves on his feet.

It made Dan stop and stare.

He didn’t quite understand what the boy was doing, he looked to be scavenging around for something at the base of a tree. His hands dug around in the dirt and his cloak shimmered as he moved his head.

Dan groaned. It pained him to have to interact with people, but the protocol basically forced him to ask questions to everyone he came across. This was why he hated patrol. 

“Who are you?” He demanded, marching over to the boy. The elf’s head whipped around quicker than a sprite running from trouble- a little too fast. Dan leapt back as the boy let out a squeal, tumbling to the ground. Falling backwards and jerking his head up to avoid landing on it, in a way that Dan could only describe as about as elegant as a giant sitting down too fast (which wasn’t a pretty sight, and Dan could tell you that from experience).

“Ah, sorry, you startled me!” The boy smiled widely, and Dan was almost intimidated by the sheer glow of cheerfulness in his grin, “My name is Phil!”

“Oh, uh sorry about that,” Dan mumbled, smiling back despite the mask that covered the bottom half of his face. “Here,” He offered a hand out to the boy to pull him up, and he took it gratefully. 

“Thank you,” Phil said.

“No problem. What are you doing in this forest anyways?” Dan chuckled, “It can be dangerous… for someone who literally glows.” He added, mumbling the last part under his breath.

“Well, I was trying to find a plant, but then this squirrel chased me! It was so determined? Maybe it knows there are bigger plans for me in this forest,” Phil rambled, Dan trying his best not to laugh.

“A squirrel? Are you actually kidding me?” Dan giggled, pulling his mask down a little, “But aren’t you like… a forest elf? And you’re scared of a little squirrel?”

Phil beamed, “I know- I’m just a bit weird,” He shrugged. This guy was a complete goofball and Dan couldn’t lie, he was a little worried he was going to get himself killed in the Darker Forest.

“Anyway the plant you were looking for… what was it called?” He tried to spark up a conversation, intrigued at the strange elf.

“Oh! It’s called Sanitas Medela. They grow at the bases of trees like this one,” Phil smiled, gesturing to the tall tree they stood under.

“Did you try looking all around?” Dan questioned.

“Ah, no.”

“I’ll be happy to help!” He offered. It beat patrolling any day.

Phil nodded gratefully, “That’d be amazing.”

Dan pulled his mask back up, following Phil as they began to hunt through the trees, Phil stopping to admire a particular leaf every few seconds.

“Look at this one!” He exclaimed, “The patterning is exquisite!” Dan giggled at Phil’s use of ‘exquisite’ to describe a leaf, and he glanced at the tree.

“It’s, uh, nice.” It was really just a leaf. A very average leaf.

“I know! Beautiful.” Phil smiled, plucking it from the tree and shoving it into his bag. “I think we’re nearby a grove of the tree the Sanitas Medela grows under- we should be able to find one there.”

“Perfect!” Dan smiled.

Phil had begun to talk again as they walked, but stopped mid-sentence, “But I don’t think it’s necessary- that’s one there!” Phil yelled excitedly, rushing to grab the small plant. It was a little underwhelming, Dan had to be honest. Basically just a green stick with some red dots at the end. Nothing special.

“That’s so lucky- these are rare,” Phil seemed so content that Dan couldn’t help but beam, “Thanks for your help…uh…”

“Oh, it’s Howell- but you can call me Dan I guess!” He said, pulling the hood of his cloak down and the mask along with it.

“Nice to meet you, Dan!”

“So, uh, what’s the plant for anyways?”

“It’s one of the best for healing the body,” Phil smiled down at it.

“Are you sick?” Dan questioned, feeling sick to his stomach with worry.

“Not me, but my-“ Phil stopped. His ears perked up at a noise from far away. A low growl, followed by the a cracking sound. Branches snapping. “Uh- what’s that,” He whispered nervously, fear forming in his eyes as he stared, scared, at Dan.

They both turned around. The beast stood, snuffling in the shadows, hidden partly by the trees. It’s great bull-like face showed no emotion but anger, and it’s eyes glowed a sinister red.

“Minotaur.” Dan said shortly, his fingers reaching down to grasp his dagger.

Gendry x STARK!reader...

((I’M SORRY IF GENDRY IS WRITTEN BADLY! Or…if this is written badly in general :/))

Word Count: 1,891

Warning: NONE but…occ Gendry?

Keep reading

Help Me {Soulmate AU} [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 1574
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever Y/n writes on her skin also appears on her soulmate’s skin. Draco is determined to find the girl who is begging to be saved from herself.
Other Parts: Part 1 Part 2
WARNINGS: Do not read if you are triggered by depressive thoughts.
Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

+ + + + +

Depression is a complex thing, meaning so much to one person, yet so little to another. To one, it’s a demon, reaching out and taking the joy from everything in the world, and replacing it with hopelessness and despair.

It isn’t always easy, to see who has depression. Sometimes, it’s the person you least expect. Sometimes, it can be the happiest-seeming person ever. But then one day, they may be in the middle of a laugh,

and they just stop.

Depression is a constant thing, and it rips apart everything you ever hold dear.

It stops you from caring, about anything, really. It consumes you, filling your head with thoughts that wouldn’t even dare to enter other people’s minds.

Depression is the slow, painful process of accepting life’s negatives, and being exhausted whilst waiting for death.

Because sometimes, suicidal people aren’t really wanting to die, but rather, they just want an escape from the horrors of day-to-day activities.

Depression is hard when you have no one to talk to, because no one seems to care. Hell, you don’t even seem to care. It’s made even harder when those around you frown upon anything in the mental health region.

It’s impossible to try and do anything, without second-guessing yourself about it, because that’s what depression does.

And maybe that’s the reason why, when you came across a strange group of dark, hooded figures in your third year, that though they tried, they couldn’t take away your happiness.

Because you had none left to give.

Life had chewed you up and spat you out. And you were done.

Because depression is like screaming in a room filled with people, yet none of them seem to hear or care.

It’s like drowning, but people are watching you struggle, enjoying your pain.

It’s like waiting for something dreadful, sitting around with a ball of angst circling your stomach, as you try to cling onto any last hopes you have.

Except, it’s all disappeared.

When you sat around, alone with your looking thoughts, all you had was parchment and a quill. It wasn’t enough to take your mind away from all the negativity - nothing was - but it helped. Marginally.

You had lost all hope for anything getting better, but you did cling onto the fact that maybe, possibly, there was somebody out there that could help you. That cared.

You had heard rumours, where a thing printed onto your skin, would appear on your soulmate’s. You didn’t know if it was true - nobody spoke of it directly to you. Nobody spoke of anything directly to you.

But it was the last thing you could do.

You picked up your quill, and printed two words.

Help me.


He hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in trying to catch Potter doing something he shouldn’t.

He barely paid attention to the black ink that had mysteriously appeared on the back of his hand.

It was only when Crabbe pointed to his hand and asked what it was that he finally noticed two words etched into his skin.

Help me.

He stared at the words, his heart pounding, and breath getting caught in his throat.

Help me.

They appeared again, written carefully underneath the last. His mind clogged with situations where his soulmate would need to try and communicate with him like this.

Help me.

“I have to go,” he said, pulling the sleeve of his cloak to hide his hand as he walked out of the Slytherin common rooms.

Help me.

He glanced down at his hand, which was becoming filled with black ink, the same phrase written over and over.

Help me.

He had to find you. There was no doubt about it. You needed him. For once, he was going to try and help someone other than himself.

And that’s when he pulled out his own quill, and began to write.


You dropped the quill, your hand aching. If the rumours were true, your soulmate would see what you had written, and, with any luck, save you before it’s too late.

Gripping harshly on the table in front of you, your face contorted in pain; emotional pain.

You stared down at your ink-covered hand until your eyes began to blur.

That’s when you saw it.

The intricate handwriting printed on the back of your other hand, appearing like magic.

How can I help?

Your heart jolted. The soulmate rumours were true. And now… now you had someone who was willing to help you.

Slowly, as if you expected it to be a dream, you began to answer the question.

I need help saving me from myself.


“How many times do I have to tell you, you filthy little mudblood! Stay out of my way!” A voice ring through your ears as you clenched your hidden fists. “Just leave me alone, Malfoy,” you muttered, pushing past him.

You wanted to get to the library, where you could communicate with your soulmate in privacy.

“Wait a minute, come back here!” He said as you held a hand grabbing your cloak and yanking you back, “You seem to be in a hurry. Where are you heading to? You better not be contaminating everywhere with your dirty blood.”

“Why would I tell you?” You said quietly, removing your cloak from his grasp, and trying to turn away.

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!”

“Well I’m done with you,” you said as you stalked off, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

You could just lay down and cry right now, a voice inside your head said, Nobody cares, not really.

Finally making it to the library, you took a seat hidden in the shadows, far away from the other people sat down studying, and took out your quill.

I can’t do it anymore.

Your reply was almost instantaneous.

Don’t say that, please don’t say that.

You gulped harshly.

I’m sorry, but nothing’s working. I’m not getting better, and I don’t think I ever will.

You will! I’ll help you. I always do, remember?

You remembered all the times where you sat alone, talking to this mysterious person, who always seemed to be able to make you feel even slightly better - at least temporarily.

I don’t think words will work this time.

The words were shaky, and you didn’t expect the reply as quick as you received it.

Then I’ll meet you someplace. That is, if you’re at Hogwarts school?

Your heart raced. Your soulmate wanted to meet you. You.

I am.

Then I’ll meet you in the Astronomy Tower at 7 tonight.

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you smiled.

I’ll be there.


You started having second thoughts when you walked up the steps to the tower. What were you thinking? This person was the only one to ever help you, and now you’re meeting - what if they decided they didn’t want to help anymore?

This person, though you hadn’t properly met yet, was, by far, the most important person in your life right now.

And, if you were completely honest, you didn’t know if you wanted to put a face to the writing.

It was nearly 7, and your heart was beating faster than it should have. Your nerves were at an all-time high.

You didn’t know why you agreed to this.

When you finally heard footsteps, you braced yourself, looking out of the window to look across the school grounds, and took a shaky breath.

The footsteps stopped, and you turned around.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” You said in shock, hoping, praying this wasn’t what you thought it was. You glanced over his shoulder to see if your real soulmate had somehow appeared yet instead.

“I’m meeting somebody, not that it concerns a mudblood like you. You should just leave, so I can wait alone.”

“Who are you meeting?” You asked, your heart plummeting down into the depths of your stomach. You had a terrible anxious feeling; you knew what was coming.

“I’m meeting my soulmate, if you must know,” Draco said with a smug tone, “Bet you haven’t found yours yet have you?”

You felt a pang of pain in your heart when you realised who you’d been talking to, “I’ve got to go.”

Rushing out of the room, you ran down the stairs and heading straight for your common room.

Draco Malfoy was your soulmate.

If that wasn’t enough the send you over the edge, you didn’t know what was.


Why didn’t you show up?

You glanced at your hand, your chest seeming to tighten.

You didn’t know how to reply, not now you knew your soulmate was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had been bullying you for the past couple of years or so.

Sighing, you picked up your quill.

I did.

You lay on your bed in your dorm, staring up at the ceiling and wishing it was someone else you were talking to.

Anyone else.

I didn’t see you there.

You did.

There wasn’t a reply for a while, though you kept checking. It was more of a habit now, than you actually wanting a reply. In fact, though you were attached to the person you had been talking to, now you knew it was Malfoy… things were different.

You couldn’t believe how much you had actually told him in the space of two weeks.

When you looked down at your hand again, you sighed.


Meanwhile, a recap on Jon and Sansa's 'unadulterated platonic relationship'
  • S05E07
  • Sansa, after being raped and abused: ...but you are a bastard
  • Ramsay: (this girl never learn does she?) well you know who else is a bastard? Jon Snow
  • Sansa: Jon Snow who?
  • Ramsay: this dumb bitch... Your half-brother!! Remember? He's Lord Commander now. Another bastard rising. Bastards for the win!
  • --
  • S06E04
  • After 84 years... (The first Stark reunion, i sure TF am crying)
  • Jonsa: (intently stares at each other for 30 seconds and the hug™)
  • -
  • Sansa: *reminisce childhood memories*
  • Sansa: im sorry im an ass to you and havent really treated you as my brother until now
  • Jon: nah. It's not your fault
  • Sansa: i was awful, just admit it
  • Jon: (snorts) well what you gonna do. I was always been a brooder
  • Sansa: can you forgive me?
  • Jon: theres nothing to forgive
  • Sansa; forgive meee : (
  • Jon: okay. :)
  • Sansa: :)
  • Sansa: *tries to be cool by drinking ale, but fails miserably)
  • Jon: (oh shes so cute, my cute little sister)
  • Sansa: okay but real talk where will you go?
  • Jon: me? There's no more 'me'. There's only you and I.
  • Sansa: fine. Where will WE go?
  • Jon: we can't stay here
  • Sansa: Home™. We have to go home.
  • Jon: you crazy?? Boltons are there and i'm tired of fighting.
  • Sansa: that is the wrong attitude, Jon!! We are going home and winning Winterfell, even if it's the last thing I do!!
  • -
  • Jon: *reads 'you traitor bastard', 'rickon is here', 'sansa is my wife'* okay im done
  • Sansa: no go on. *reads basically ramsay being the psychopath that he is* you see my point now?
  • Jon: we have no army to fight
  • Sansa: *the hand hold™* you are father's son. We need to take back what is ours.
  • Jon: okay
  • -
  • S06E05
  • Sansa: the North remembers and they remember the Starks
  • Ser Davos: ok. But Jon is not a Stark.
  • Sansa: but I am. And idc, he IS my father's son.
  • -
  • Brienne: im your sworn shield. Im not gonna leave you here alone w these untrustworthy dudes
  • Sansa: im here w Jon
  • Brienne: jon is ok. He's too dark, but okay. Others, not too much. Esp the bearded-guy. He's so obsessed w me.
  • Sansa: (snorts) but Jon is not others. Jon is my bro. 'Jon is Jon'™. He'll keep me safe. I trust him
  • Brienne: then why the fuck you lyin' to him?
  • -
  • Jon: new dress?
  • Sansa: i made it myself. Did you like it?
  • Jon: i LOVE it!! I mean, the wolf?? The details are so intricate. Such a talented hand!
  • Sansa: awww. Well, good cause i made one for you too. *hands the cloak™* since you're gonna be Ned 2.0, you should dress the part.
  • Jon: thank you, Sansa.
  • Sansa: You're welcome :)
  • Jon: *grins like an idiot* (wtf just happened)
  • -
  • S06E07
  • Lyanna: Bear islands knows no King but the king in the North whose name is Stark. I see no Stark. You're a Snow. And your sister is a Bolton, or a Lannister. Who knows anymore
  • Sansa: hun, the fact that I'm here in one piece and still sane after the idiot mad king Joffrey, and the psychopath sicko Ramsey should speak for myself.
  • Ser Davos: *gives motivational speech*
  • Lyanna: ok. I'll give you 62 o our men
  • Later, Sansa: did we just stand there and get dragged for 62 men?
  • -
  • S06E09
  • Jon: you dont have to be here
  • Sansa: yes, i do.
  • Ramsay: aww. My beloved wife. Ive missed you terribly. Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely. Now bend the knee.
  • Jon: i think TF not. One on one, you and me.
  • Ramsay: you kidding me? You're the best swordsman in the North, no one is dumb enough to fight you one on one. Whats the point of having an army, if you wont use it?
  • Jon: will your army fight for you if you wont fight for them?
  • Ramsay: oh wow Sansa. You got yourself a fine young man right here. Jon snow, your pride will be the death of your little bro
  • Sansa: how do we know you have him?
  • Ramsay: *throws Shaggydog head*
  • Sansa: oh now you've crossed the line, consider yourself dead tom. *dramatic exit*
  • Ramsay: she's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed. ofc you guys are fine too. My dogs are starving for you.
  • -
  • Men talks military strategies.
  • Jon: i want him angry. I want him making a mistake.
  • Sansa: youve met him for 6 seconds and you think you know him. Ive lived w him. I know him. Did it ever occur to you to ask my opinion?!
  • Jon: okay. You're right.
  • Sansa: *rants about Ramsay being manipulative* he's been doing it all his life
  • Jon: hun, i've defended the Wall from Giants and barbaric cannibals with what? 100 people? I think i can handle Ramsay Bolton just fine
  • Sansa: you dont know him
  • Jon: okay. Then tell me. Whats YOUR plan?
  • Sansa: idk!! Dont ask me!! Just dont be stupid
  • Jon: ????
  • Sansa: *continues to tell jon they need more men BUT not telling him they can have the knights of the Vale*
  • Sansa: if Ramsay wins, im not going back there alive
  • Jon: i wont ever let him touch you again. I'll protect you, i promise.
  • Sansa: i'd like to see you try.
  • -
  • Jon: if i die, dont bring me back
  • Red woman: im not your servant
  • Jon: you're in my camp. Im your Commander
  • -
  • Jon: *probably forgets his plan and that he's the Commander, so he stupidly marches front and center to the Boltons*
  • Ser Davos: *waited until Jon Snow is halfway through the battlefield* Go! go!! Follow your stupid commander!!
  • -
  • Ramsay: oh well, since my army is gone. How about i take you up w your offer? One on one?
  • Jon: bitch... *finally beats the crap out of Ramsay but stops when he sees Sansa*
  • -
  • Sansa: Jon. Where is he?
  • --
  • S06E10
  • Jon: im having the Lord's chamber prepared for you.
  • Sansa: you should take it.
  • Jon: no you take it.
  • Sansa: no you!!
  • Jon: 'I'm not a Stark'™
  • Sansa: You are to me.
  • Jon: You're the Lady of Winterfell. You're the reason why we're standing here. You. The knights of the Vale rode for you. Speaking of, you wanna tell me why you never mentioned you have a battalion in your pocket?
  • Sansa: oops. Sorry?
  • Jon: (comes closer) we need to trust each other. *forehead kiss™ that lasted a little longer*
  • -
  • *Sansa sits at the left side of Jon, looking proud as the North names him King in the North*
  • --
  • S07E01
  • Jon: you are my sis but i'm king now. You cant undermine me.
  • Sansa: i cant tell you when youre being an idiot? Bec joffrey--
  • Jon: *shookt* you think i'm like joffrey??
  • Sansa: (softens) no
  • Jon: thank you
  • Sansa: you're good at this
  • Jon: psh. No.
  • Sansa: you areee. They respect you but--
  • Jon: (laughs) everything before the word 'but' is horse shit.
  • Sansa: ok. Whatever. Stop babying me
  • Jon: i'll stop if you stop undermining me.
  • Sansa: i would never!! *grabs hand*
  • Jon: (this girl cant keep her hand to herself)
  • Sansa: i love dad and Robb but they are idiots. And you know what happens to idiots? They die. So dont be an idiot
  • Jon: And how should i be smarter? By listening to you?
  • Sansa: that would definitely be a first.
  • *insert ned/cat parallel here*
  • -
  • Sansa: youre so obsessed w the Night king, you forgot about the Incest queen in the South.
  • Jon: im obsessed w him bec i saw the fantasy shit he has beyond the wall
  • Sansa: hun, the South has their own fuckery. Father underestimated Cersei, that obvs didnt turn out so well
  • Jon: ok but--
  • Sansa: Jon, you've read the Art of War by Ned Stark. I've read the one by Cersei.
  • Jon: Did she sign your copy?
  • Sansa: Yes. I'm her number one stan.
  • -
  • S07E02
  • Jon: *after Sam tells him there is dragonglass in dragonstone which lol Ser Davos DID NOT even mention) i should go to dragonstone.
  • Sansa: Jon 'reckless, stubborn, you know nothing' Snow! What did we talk about being an idiot? Have you forgotten why father fought the mad king in the first place? That girl is dangerous!!
  • Everyone: we need the King in the North in the North!!
  • Jon: North is my home. And i will never stop fighting for it. But we need allies
  • Sansa: you're abandoning me!! You're abandoning our home!! (Stay)
  • Jon: You'll be safe here. I'll leave Ghost to you. And you'll keep everyone safe. Until I return, the North is yours. (This is me trusting you)
  • Sansa: okay.
  • -
  • LF: *blah blah blah*
  • Jon: (oh god. When will he ever stop talking? Is it too much to ask for a moment of silence around here? I just wanna be emo w my homies)
  • Littlefinger: i love Sansa--
  • Jon: (snaps and chokes LF) istg you touch her and i'll kill you myself
  • -
  • LF: so that was a little intense. Oh Cat 2.0!! There you are!! Hellooo!!
  • Jon: *looks back and waves at Sansa before leaving - ala Brienne & Jaime style*
  • LF: damn. At Ned 2.0? Story of my life, huh?
  • --
  • S07E03
  • Tyrion: And Sansa. Does she miss me terribly?
  • Jon: (i'd be careful of what you say next)
  • Tyrion: well i've never touched her and i was really nice to her
  • Jon: oh good. I mean idc. But that's really great. I'd hate to almost kill you myself. Not that i care.
  • -
  • Jon: *looks like fine snack at the mountain top* i miss home.
  • Tyrion: *subtly ships Jonaerys*
  • Jon: (rolls eyes) you know what's real? The White Walkers.
  • -
  • Bran: *comes back to WF but is cryptic AF*
  • Sansa: i wish Jon were here
  • Bran: and you were so beautiful, in your white wedding dress--
  • Sansa: (kim kardashian voice) if you know how i feel why would u say that like you put me in such an uncomfortable situation like u know im not happy i know im trying to see if it will work out here and i know that its not--
  • --
  • S07E04
  • Arya: jon left you in charge?
  • Sansa: he did. I hope he comes back soon. I remember how stoked he was to see me. We're buddy-buddies now. His heart will probs stop if sees you.
  • -
  • Ser Davos: so you and the Pretty dragon lady.*nudge, nudge* jonaerys is real. I ship it. Bec i saw you look at her direction for .1 second and i know foh shure you are secretly in love w her. I have the receipts.
  • Jon: you're delusional™
  • Theon: Sansa--
  • Jon: (loses his shit) you think i'll be tired of going all batshit crazy over someone mentioning her name?? Your traitorous coward useless ass can choke
  • Ser Davos: (this damn bastard cant keep it together ffs)
  • -
  • S07E05
  • Northerns lords: *kiss ass to Sansa*
  • Sansa: ok thats nice but Jon is our king. Im a loyal ho, you fake ass lords cant relate.
  • -
  • Sansa, probably: Jon I wish you can come back v soon. I miss you. Obviously Ghost does too, remember him? The Northern lords Are bipolar fuckers who are as loyal as fake fans are. Arya and Bran are back but they've gone cray cray. PS. Bran says the undeadz are heading towards the Eastwatch. He has visions now.
  • --
  • S07E06
  • Arya: *hypocritical speech about something that happened 6 seasons ago*
  • Sansa: sis i love u but stfu. Even tho Jon is an idiot, he gives me credit that i deserve. We won Winterfell back because of ME--
  • Arya: 'Sis', idk about you and Jon and but 'I' single-handedly avenged the Red Wedding by wiping the Freys out. But go awf i guess.
  • -
  • Sansa: their loyalty is to Jon. Which is debatable btw. Jon had left me on seenzone for weeks.
  • LF: doesnt matter. He left you in charge. The North likes you
  • Sansa: those lords probably doesnt even know what 'loyalty' is. If they found out about the letter I wrote 6 seasons ago when my character hasnt developed yet, by the time Jon comes back, he'll have no army left
  • LF: ok but Arya is your sister. She wouldn betray you
  • Sansa: she would if she thinks i'm going to betray Jon. Which is never gonna happen.
  • --
  • Meanwhile,
  • Jon: i serve the North
  • Also, Jon: i'd bend the knee but...

This is my new cosplay philosophy.

Because how else will you learn if you don’t accidentally set your smoke detector off while making a lightsaber or shove a leather needle through your thumb or overestimate the size of a cloak and end up handing sewing 9000 rooster feathers to it? Try something new, fuck up so spectacularly that people are scared and a little impressed, and then learn and try again ✨

kitsunesongs  asked:

After ROTS, Obi-Wan gets really sick. Knowing that he won't survive, and also can't be on his own, Obi-Wan heads to some mid rim planet and checks himself into a hospital. He goes under his own name because he's already dying, and Vader shows up - only to be confronted by a delirious Obi-Wan who thinks he is a hallucination, and apologizes and says he loves him, and says he knew about Padme but just wanted Anakin to be happy...Vader decides to take Obi-Wan with him/save him. Vaderwan please!

Of all the ways he thought he’d catch Obi-Wan, this had not been one of them.

Not because Obi-Wan had checked into a hospital in need of service under his own name as if he didn’t have a Sith lord and an Empire hunting him down.

Not because Obi-Wan looks like a wreck of a man, pallid and skeletonish with labored breath.

“…Well?” He looked at Kix who was standing with the medical information.

“Bulb plague sir.” Kix said around the mask he was wearing.

“Bulb plague, are you serious?” Anakin blinked at him, glancing quickly down at Obi-Wan and then back at the medic. “Where did he even pick it up? Not to mention why didn’t he get trea-treatment…” Of course Obi-Wan didn’t go get treatment, wherever he had been hiding had a thriving strand of bulb plague which meant limited medical help and the help Obi-Wan would have needed would have brought him into the Empire’s light.

“How far advanced?” He settled on asking.

“He’s dying sir. He’s reached stage four. Puss and blood filled bulbous, fever close to fatally high, blood filling his lungs, coughing fits and advanced state of dehydration and starvation as we can see.” Kix made sure his mask was properly on. They had the meds to prevent it but he didn’t want to catch it in the first place.

“So he’s dying…” Anakin mused quietly, feeling a pang of disappointment and old fear.

A soft tug on his cloak made Anakin look down, Obi-Wan’s skeletal hand wrapped in the black fabric.

“Ani…” The other rasped, blinking up at him before smiling, lips cracking and bleeding but smiling up at the Sith. “Hi.”

“…Hello Obi-Wan.” Anakin returned.

The Jedi stared up at him, still smiling faintly.

‘He doesn’t think I’m real.’ Anakin realized, Obi-Wan’s lowered barrier showing all his thoughts as Anakin sat down on the bedside of the other. “You look like shit old man.”

“Uhu. Tatooine sucks as much as you said.” Obi-Wan confessed, rubbing the cloak in his hand.

‘Of course that’s where you went hiding.’ Anakin shook his head.

“I’m sorry about Padme.” The copper haired Jedi whispered, swallowing heavily as he gave the fabric a tug. “She loved you. Always knew she did. Was good someone did. Someone could.”


“Obi-Wan?” Anakin shifted, reaching out to touch his old master, cupping his chin to make sure the other was looking at him. “What do you mean?”

Dazed green eyes stared at him. “Always knew. She was good for you.”

No, no that wasn’t…Padme and he had been so careful. Obi-Wan couldn’t have known and yet…

“Sad I didn’t get invited to the wedding…” Obi-Wan mumbled then groaned, twisting a bit out of the Sith’s grip as a bloom of red and yellow appeared on the thin medical gown he was wearing.

“Popping bulb.” Kix offered quietly and unasked.

“…Can he be saved?” Anakin questioned, staring down at the man on the bed as Obi-Wan panted in pain.

“I…I’m not sure sir. We could prolong his life? If we bring him to Coruscant and place him in a bacta tank sir but Bulb plague in stage four doesn’t have a cure.” Kix hesitated. “Isn’t he a traitor lord Vader?”

Anakin looked up then down again, reaching out to stroke Obi-Wan’s lank hair of his sweaty forehead. “I don’t think this man is any danger to the Empire.” He offered quietly before looking back at the medic. “How do we transport him without causing an epidemic?”


Sick as he was, Obi-Wan only had the barest of shields that was easy for Anakin to slip past and inside to catch every thought and memory the other had though he resisted the urge to delve deep. He didn’t want to harm the other after all.

Not anymore.

Obi-Wan had known.

About Padme and about the babies. He had even suspected that Anakin was married and said nothing to anyone because he had wanted the other HAPPY.

And speaking about babies…

Anakin glanced down at the vid monitor, smiling as he saw both Luke and Leia still sleeping peacefully in their cribs, both twins unaware that they had been taken from and then reunited with their father.

“It was foolish of Yoda to request them separated.” He murmured and looked up at the bacta tank that contained Obi-Wan’s thin, floating body. At least the bacta had healed the bulbous growths and sedated Obi-Wan did not radiate pain. “But then again you already thought so when you took Luke to Tatooine.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, just slowly breathed.

“We may have a solution to the plague Obi-Wan. Soon.” Anakin rested his hand on the tank. “You’ll be able to join us soon hopefully.”

Obi-Wan made no response and Anakin sighed before reaching out, sliding in past the others mellow shields. -Obi-Wan?-

There was silence and darkness before something dazed sparked. -Anakin?- Soft and confused and it made Anakin smile a bit as he followed the trail to Obi-Wan’s consciousness.


A soft glowing ball that softly pulsated. Anakin wondered how he felt compared to the light as he wrapped himself around it carefully, caressing the light gently.

-Anakin?- Another soft confused thought floated.

-Its alright Obi-Wan, you’re safe. You’re on Coruscant.-

A quiet spike of panic and dread.

-Shhh no, the Emperor is not going to touch you Obi-Wan.-


Anakin carefully stroked the light he had wrapped himself possessively around. -Because you’re mine. The Force gave you to me and I will not let Sidious take you from me. Rest Obi-Wan, your body needs it.-

Uncertainty lingered before the light settled, exhausted in his grasp.

At my university there is an old forgotten quad that is usually locked up on the town side (although I know a secret way in) where an ancient building once stood.

There are a number of things about the old quad that make it feel different, unusual, alluring. There is a huge tree, perhaps an oak there with a trunk as wide as the castle turret on the other side of the quad. when the sun sets the enormous tree at the entryway glows a brilliant emerald green.

and a statue of a man with a billowing cloak and staff in hand. Around the quad are benches with names of people who died young, when they were still at the university and castle turrets and walls surround the sides.

But oddest of all is the gateway in the very center of the quad. There lies an ancient stone archway with a cast iron gate padlocked shut at its center and 7 feet away from the gateway on all sides is a waist high wrought iron fence chained shut. Where does the door lead? And who or what is sealed on the other side? Whenever I am in the quad I feel the pull towards the gate and I have to stop myself from climbing over the fence and trying to make my way through the gate.


boss-saarebas  asked:

Kiss prompt: Distracting kiss! leaving the pairing open for whatever you want to write!

“More needs to be cut. Properly this time, and properly mended,” the healer says, poking and prodding at Lavellan’s arm. Or, at least, what remains of it. It’s not sorrow she feels this time. Oh, it was all misery and mourning at the last, begging and weeping, please don’t do it. She didn’t feel the axe bury itself in long dead flesh, but she had screamed anyway. The smoking ruin of the anchor, the bleeding green veins. She thought it was done. “Above the elbow this time.” If not for Cullen holding her other hand tightly, she might have punched the healer. Not the healer’s fault, but she has no room for anguish. Anger has taken its place.

Red hot rage, boiling and bubbling, barely contained underneath the surface. From the first, they’re going to kill me, they’re killing me, they’re killing me, they’re pulling me apart. Breaking her piece by piece, bit by bit, scraps of flesh for the highest bidder. At first that was the Chantry, then the Inquisition, then the Dread Wolf, and now… there’s hardly anything left. Burning, searing, scorching, burning everything in its path, a dark cloud on her brows and the healer knows. She steps back, casts an uneasy glance at the Commander.

“My love,” he murmurs, his lips by her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. Resting his head gently against hers even as she fumes, his thumb running over her knuckles. “My love.” The times Cullen is not dressed in his full regalia are rare, far and few in between. He wears simple trousers, a loose tunic. No gloves, no breastplate, no sword, no cloak. The hand not holding hers curling against her cheek, turning her face towards his.

“It needs to be done,” he tells her, a kiss to her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks. “It will only get worse if we leave it.” The ache, the throbbing, the knowing that something was wrong. She could only keep it hidden for so long. Waking up in the middle of the night, teeth gritted, soaked in sweat, clutching at the stump. A red and weeping thing, infected and angry just as much as she. Cullen pulls her in, a hand at the back of her neck, and she gratefully buries her face into his chest.

“When would you like it done Inquisitor?” The healer asks quietly.

“Now. Right now,” she answers. It takes a few minutes for the room to become flooded with people – the mages, and the ones holding the knives. They strap her arm down. Cullen takes her face in his hands.

“I love you,” he tells her fiercely, and he doesn’t give her a chance to reply. Crushing his lips against hers, all mess and desperation, reassurance and worry. She barely feels the metal at her skin, the magic pressing in at all sides. Just him, only him.

Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 2

Originally posted by sugaglos

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Summary: There was surely no way the your father could be serious about marrying this…this stranger from another kingdom! Right?

Word Count:2840 

Warnings:Blood (In later parts), Smut (in later parts)

     You stormed into your father’s study, fists balled and face red with fury,

    “I won’t marry him! I won’t do it!” you roared as you entered the room. Your father rubbed his forehead and sighed, tired.

Keep reading