comfort pit

Tyler Seguin: Then There’s You

Originally posted by mapleloafs

FLuffY Seggy

word count: 1304

warnings: some sexual innuendo

All day you had been insanely busy at your office job. Finally, getting a chance to settle down at your lunch break you got to check your multiple snapchat notifications from Jamie Benn. The team was back to conditioning together before the start of the season and apparently the boys had been teasing Ty about you all morning. Your relationship had been going strong for about 6 months. In the beginning, before it was official, you had been weary about how serious he was about you. It wasn’t until Jamie began sending you snap videos of Tyler drunk and talking about you endlessly that you truly gave him a chance. Since then, the endless videos of teasing your boyfriend were a daily occurrence.

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black water || prologue

summary: jungkook was your friend from childhood who you hadn’t seen since you were eleven. the death of your father sends you back to your hometown, but jungkook’s not himself anymore. you’re left wondering when your best friend became an asshole, and a wolf. 

werewolf!jungkook, bitten!reader

pairings: jungkook x reader

genre: smut/angst

a/n: i’m an asshole. warning

“Since when the fuck were you a werewolf?” 

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Two Can Play This Game

1,000 Followers Drabble

Prompt: “Umm…I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Requested by: @feelmyroarrrr

“It’s my birthday, bitches!” Charlie announces, opening the front door of her parent’s huge expensive house.

You, Jess, Sam and Dean all rush inside. Everyone is excited that Charlie’s parents are gone for the next few days. Leaving you and your friends a perfect place to party for the weekend.  

You make a beeline towards the kitchen and immediately pour yourself a strong drink. To say your college courses have been stressing you out lately is a huge fucking understatement. This party couldn’t have come at a better time. 

“You’re not wasting any time, sweetheart.” Dean smoothly points out, eyeing the glass of whiskey in your hand as he strolls into the room. Naturally you ignore his comment and down your drink before pouring another.

“You’re my friend, not my dad. So act accordingly.” 

“All I’m saying is pace yourself. No need to get shit faced…at least not so early.” Dean tries to charm you with a wink but it has no effect on you.

“Go find a Barbie doll to play with, Winchester. I saw a couple of blonde bimbos prancing around here.”

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anonymous asked:

Ohhh, I'm already dying for more of the NotByChoice verse... Would you mind writing what happens next? (And if it holds any weight, personally I think Mace and Obi being v close friends with some interesting chemistry would be more fun to read than established MaceObi, but it's totally up to you and this faceless anon, for one, will be ecstatic to read the next installation either way ;) )

With a scream that seemed to rattle invisible dust out of ceiling, Obi-Wan threw another sparring droid at the wall, sweat and blood rolling down his body beneath his tunic. The beige fabric was darkened by both moisture’s, the red peeking out vividly against the paleness.

Faintly, Obi-Wan was aware of Mace, Yoda, Ahsoka and Anakin in the room as he continued his onslaught against the droids, releasing rage into the Force as he did while they observed him. He wondered what he looked like and shame joined his anger, making him even more lethal as he moved through every saber motion, every pull of the Force his instinct demanded.

And then he had nothing left.

He slid to his knees, sabers extinguishing as Anakin turned off the droids.

A careful hand squeezed his shoulder before Mace knelt down in front of him, offering him a bottle of water. “Better?” The Korun murmured.

“Calmer at least.” Obi-Wan rasped out before taking several sips of the water, leaning into the hand. He looked up as Yoda came closer to him, the old master resting his claws against Obi-Wan’s forehead for a few moments before nodding. “Calmer.” He agreed before sighing. “Healing you now require.”

“I can handle that.” Mace offered calmly, helping Obi-Wan up as Anakin came over to them, the blond surveying the destroyed droids. “I can fix these, I’m sure. Perhaps get them a bit quicker on the defense if this is how we’re going to work your rage out Obi-Wan.” He offered confidently.

“That would be…appreciated Anakin. I’d rather not destroy them every time this…happens.” Obi-Wan leaned on Mace, feeling the other slip an arm around his waist to keep him upright. “Force I’m exhausted now. Is this how Sith’s always feel? I hope we can find some karking answers.” Obi-Wan sighed tiredly.

“Overusing the Force you are, working out the rage that is not natural to you. Straining your body you are.” Yoda crawled into his chair and then got it to hover up as Ahsoka handed Obi-Wan a clean towel.

Obi-Wan sent her a small smile that she nervously returned before he started to wipe his face slowly as he leaned into Mace side. “So I have to find a way to return to normal is what you’re saying, and soon. Any luck with Dooku and Ventress?”

“None so far.” Mace sighed, pulling the other closer to him.

“Great…so the black library is still our best chance then.” Obi-Wan grumbled. “If we can find it.”

“Difficult to find the black library is. Hopeful we are to locate it though.” Yoda offered as they started walking, heading out of the shielded sparring room while Anakin and Ahsoka settled to repair and improve the sparring droids.

Mace kept his grip around Obi-Wan’s waist. “If only it wasn’t located on a moving comet…”

“Well at least Darth Oolaga got his wish about the difficulty in locating it, building it on a karking moving comet that forever moved through space, its orbiting motions lost to history so no one is really sure where and when its suppose to pass next.” Obi-Wan offered sarcastically before sighing. “I am so tired of being angry.” He sulked.

Mace squeezed his hand on Obi-Wan’s waist and the redhead struggled against another emotions he could usually put a lid on.

He took a deep breath through his nose. “Just…please get me to my quarters so I can clean up.” He sighed.

“Of course Obi-Wan.” Mace murmured.

Quietly the trio passed through the halls, Jedi who passed them bowing quickly while glancing at Obi-Wan before hurrying away.

“…Does everyone know?”

“Yes. It was easier to be upfront about the situation. Especially you’re unwillingness to be like this. And our search for the cure. The educational and the exploration corps are both at our disposal, the latter has a holo copy of the letters on your forehead. I believe both are working closely to try and locate the library.” Mace sighed and Obi-Wan nodded mutely.

“Cure you we will. Get your state of mind and emotion back. Leave you like this the Jedi will NOT.” Yoda offered firmly.

It got a smile out of the copper haired man for a few moments. “Thank you master Yoda. That brings me some comfort in this…pit of darkness I’m in.” He sighed.

“Make tea I will, heal Obi-Wan you shall.” Yoda grunted once they were in the younger Jedi’s quarters. The Korun silently took the other to the couch to do as told, carefully helping him out of his tunic to get to the injury. Obi-Wan hissed a bit as dried blood had glued the fabric to the wound before relaxing when it was gone, watching Mace.

“You did well, considering you’ve been at the droids for five hours before you got injured.” He murmured while resting his hand above the slice on the others chest.

“Thank you…but don’t praise me. I hate this. I hate how I am. I…and I know I shouldn’t be hating anything.” Obi-Wan looked away.

“…You’re still you. You’re back in control of your emotions for now. Like Yoda said, we won’t leave you like this Obi-Wan. You are one of our most promising members.” Mace looked up and then leaned in a bit, Obi-Wan’s breath stuttering in his chest.

“More tea you need to buy Obi-Wan.” Yoda called out from the kitchen, effectively breaking the moment.

Mace sat back and cleared his throat. “Ah. You…you should go take a trip in the fresher, clean up, get new clothes on.”

“I…yes.” Obi-Wan stood quickly, taking the soiled tunic with him with a nod to Mace before he headed to the fresher, taking a deep breath as he went. ‘Karking hell…’

In the livingroom, Mace dropped his face into his hands. ‘Great…just great Mace…’

“Move to quickly, you should not. Especially now.” Yoda cackled.

“…Please stop that. And stop teasing. This is difficult enough when he’s not Fallen.”

Yoda continued to cackle.

I don’t deserve this

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Prompt: “George Weasley x Reader based on “the only man who deserves you is the one who thinks he doesnt” ?”

Requested: By anon

Word count: 3,000

(A/N): Okay, so I really liked this prompt you guys! I don’t think it was meant to be used like I did, but hey! Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Love is hard. Love is complicated. Love is commitment. How many people actually are willing to continue in a relationship when ‘falling in love’ is over? How many people actually want to make the commitment of loving once the chemicals your brain made stop. Falling in love always ends. Loving doesn’t as long as two sides are trying. That is where it often goes wrong.

Many people still think the feeling of falling in love will last forever, they think that the blushing, stuttering and awkward butterfly’s stays. Forever. A lot of relationships end because they aren’t ready for love. They aren’t ready to work to love each other. At that moment, when your partner leaves you because that feeling is gone while you were ready to fight, when you hit that point with the wrong person, your life seems to collide.

It feels like you can’t fall any lower, like you will never feel love again. Like you’ll never feel again. Of course, that isn’t true because the heart is strong. The heart can heal itself, even though time may not always help. Sometimes you need a person, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. There are stories of people who died because of heartache. Almost similar to elephants. Elephants can die from a broken heart, and when you realize that animals can, while humans can’t, at least not really, then you realize that love is an illusion. Then you realize that the feeling you thought you felt wasn’t love, that was just puppy love. That was the fun part. The part with butterfly’s, small kisses and wanting to spent every second with each other.

Real love, the one that takes commitment and will, is far from that beautiful. When you love someone, you’ll need alone time, you’ll have fights. You will be scared when the butterfly’s are slowly being replaced with a steady, comfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. It feels kind of like an extra organ, a part of you. Even when your partner isn’t there with you, the feeling stays. It feels like a part of your partner, a part that can be comforting but also painful.

it will turn painful when your partner is away for a long time. It will be painful when you realize that the one that gives you that feeling, doesn’t feel the same about you. But what hurts most of all, is seeing the one you truly love falling in love with someone else. It hurt because you don’t want to ruin their relationship. You don’t want to do that because you know how comfortable that feeling can be. You know how much pain it can cause and you want to protect them from feeling like that because you know it will hurt you to see them just as broken as you feel. That’s the ugly part of love.

George Weasley understood that. He was young, and most people didn’t think such young people would be capable of feeling real love, but he did. George Weasley knew he was lost once he got to know Y/n. It started out as just friendship, then he developed a crush. He was shy, he didn’t dare to tell her how he felt. Maybe he would have been less hurt if he had just told her how he felt. Maybe, if he had told her the feeling of falling in love would end. Maybe if he had told her, he wouldn’t feel so broken.

But then again, he couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t fall for her. She was beautiful, that was something only a blind man couldn’t see. What only a select group of friends knew, was her shining personality. She wasn’t a living ray of sunshine, she wasn’t always and sweet. She had her bad days, bad weeks. But every time she smiled, all the pain in the world seemed to be just a little bit less. When she smiled, laughed or even looked at him, he thought all the pain he was going through, was totally worth it. he knew he would do it again if he had the choice. Without blinking.

George learnt that heartbreak was something friends and family could put him through, too. After the battle of Hogwarts, he had lost his brother. And in some ways, he had lost Y/n, too. He shut himself out, Y/n tried to talk to him, but it didn’t go well. He remembered he straight up ignored her, he remembered she had come every day for weeks, each day bringing fresh, self made food. She had lost her brother in the battle, too, but kept coming to him, she kept comforting him, trying to get a word, or even a sound from him. It was pointless.

After a month, she stopped. She started coming only once a week, she stopped trying to talk to her. And as if it was yesterday, he remembered her last words to him.

“I’m sorry to bother you with my love. I fought for us while there wasn’t even an us. Now, I’m done. I’m sorry for everything, George. I’m just tired. I don’t want to be the only one fighting. I love you.”

He remembered how soft and broken her voice had sounded. He had always thought she had been in love with someone else. He thought she was the blind one. Guess he was the one who couldn’t see. After that, George slowly tried to get his life back on track. He wanted to open the Joke shop again, but not just now. He knew he would collide again when he stepped inside without Fred. Only thinking about his brother hurt.

Slowly but surely, as time passed, George got better. He learned how to smile again, he learned how to laugh and joke again. He learned how he could gain happiness by himself again. He never forgot about Y/n, though. He had often started writing a letter, but he never wrote more then ‘Dearest Y/n,’. He despited himself for that. He wanted to talk to her, tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her he loved her too. But he couldn’t. She had probably moved on, it had been a year, after all.

But he was wrong. Y/n loved George just as much as George loved her. The feeling in her stomach never faded. She remembered the pain she felt when she finally left him. They never had been together, but it felt like it. But George didn’t know Molly had been sending owls to Y/n. She knew how George was doing. That both hurt her, but it gave her a happy feeling, too. He was getting better.

Y/n knew George had been to the joke shop three times, and each time he came back with puffy, red eyes. Y/n wanted to talk to him again, she really did. Even though he had broke her heart, even though he had ignored her feelings for more then a month. After hesitating, Y/n finally searched contact again. Not in a letter, no. She went to the joke shop. She waited. She knew he would come, Molly wouldn’t lie to her.

When the sky started to turn grey, and a small drop landed on her nose, she stayed. And that was good. George came, many people were already leaving the small village. He walked slowly, head down. But he looked happier. At least, since last time she saw him. When he looked up, she felt a smile tug on the corners of her mouth, she saw how his brows knitted together in confusion. She noticed the small lines next to his eyes and on his forehead. They were from laughter and pain. It was strange to see marks of long-lasting pain on the face of someone who used to be smiling all the time.

George soon stood next to her, on the first step to the shop. He reached his hand out, wanting to touch her arm. But he didn’t. He couldn’t believe she was real. He couldn’t believe he saw her again.

“Hello, George.” She said. George was not a broken man, but at this point he felt himself snap. A string of his being, the string that stopped love from coming in, snapped. The walls around his heart and eyes broke down. He smiled. His smiles still were rare. Tears formed in his eyes. Then, he hugged her. He hugged her as if it was the only thing he could do. And that was true. He could only wrap her arms around her, tears leaving his eyes. they both weren’t bothered by the rain, which was falling softly on them.

“Y/n.” He said into her neck. She had never been hugged this tightly. “I am so sorry.” He breathed out.

“George.” She breathed out, struggling to keep her eyes dry. She hugged him back, at least just as tight. The feeling in both their stomachs was back, and it was stronger, because even after all this time, they still loved each other, they were still willing to commit to the other.

That day, they didn’t make it into the shop. Y/n went home with George, Molly was more then happy to see Y/n. Y/n went with George, who refused to leave her, who refused to let her out of his sight. In bed, he held her tight, he held her tighter then you could imagine. He pulled her close, fingers dancing over her skin while she enjoyed being with him. Their bond may be hurt, but not broken. It felt impossible. They listened to each others heartbeats, to the other breathing. They both were afraid to fall asleep, afraid that this was a dream and the morning would take it all away. But it wasn’t. This was real.

When they finally had fallen asleep, the morning was near. But Molly let them sleep. She understood the pain they both had felt. She truly cared. When Y/n’s heavy eyes opened, she smiled when she remembered where she was. She didn’t move, she stayed put, hugging George’s waist. She couldn’t imagine a better place to be. Her fingers traced over his skin, over his arms and back. She didn’t want to wake him, but she had.

“Good morning.” He said, smiling, eyes full of sleep.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She whispered.

“I woke up in a dream.” He whispered back. Y/n smiled, fingers starting to trace figures on his back again.

They forgot about time, they forgot about getting up. They wished they could stay like this forever. They didn’t talk, and it was as if last night started again. The room was bathed in yellow light, the covers grew too hot. Then, their stomach craved for food. Eventually, they got up. George still didn’t want to let Y/n go. So, he took her hand, refusing to let go. Y/n felt safe. She felt safe and loved and beautiful. And that only because of George.

The days passed, Y/n stayed in the Burrow. She understood why George still lived with his mother and father, and she didn’t mind. Molly kept telling her George hasn’t smiled this much since forever. Y/n felt better, too. Maybe she was falling back in love, or maybe there just were a few lost butterflies still in her stomach. She knew she wanted to stay with George. He was her forever. She wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. They hadn’t told that they loved each other, they hadn’t kissed. But at this moment, that was enough.

George wanted to go back to the joke shop, he felt as if he could do it now. He didn’t want Y/n to be with him, and he snook out. But Y/n was far from stupid, she picked his plan up and followed him. From the shadows, Y/n saw George, watching the door. For one short moment, it looked like he’d open the door and walk in. Then, that moment passed and Georg let his head hang. Y/n’s heart seemed to break. She couldn’t reach him fast enough, she couldn’t push through the crowd fast enough. She almost fell, but she made it.

Y/n’s hand wrapped around George’s hand, she squeezed his hand and he  rested his head on her shoulder. He didn’t cry, not really. Tears did leave his eyes, but he soon stopped.

“I don’t know If I can do this, Y/n.” He whispered.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” She cooed, running her hand through his hair. “Let’s go back, okay? We can visit Ron, or Ginny! They don’t live that far away. I’ve been dying to see Ginny.” She smiled and softly pushed his head up.

“No. It’s not that. Not anymore. If I open the door, if I start it again, then I will realize he is gone. Then I will have nothing left.”

“George, look at me. I will always be there for you. I won’t leave you. I won’t stop fighting. Not this time. You can’t lose me, not even if you tried.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve your care, I don’t deserve a happy life. I am starting to be happy again, but I couldn’t save him, so how could I safe you?”

Y/n smiled. “George. I don’t need saving. I’m a grown woman. You don’t need saving, you need help. A shoulder for when your sad, a hand when you feel lost. Neither of us need saving. We have proven to ourselves that we are strong enough to fight for ourself. You don’t see it yet, but you are strong. And you deserve everything in the world.”

Y/n leaned in, her lips only softly brushing against him. “I love you. And you can try tell me that you don’t deserve me, you can try and run away, but I’ll always find you. Because I will always love.”

George didn’t say anything. What could he say? ‘I love you too’, that would just be weak compared to what Y/n just had said. He chose for action. His arms wrapped around her body, he pulled her closer in a kiss. Y/n froze, but soon melted into the kiss. This is what she had wanted for a really long time. Her hands rested still on his face, she let her hands travel through his hair. And maybe, the few butterflies that had survived all the pain, came back to life. Maybe everything would be fine as long as they had each other.

       Okay guys, I don’t say this often but I really like this one!

Festival of Snails - Part 3

@batcrooks@duskthicketbonepicker@missblindbat-fr​ ;)

Lore update is under the read-more! Things are progressing for Snastle and her clutch, only three days until something incredible happens…

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These Dogs That Comforted Each Other In Shelter Have Now Found A Caring Forever Home Together

Saint Is A Sinner Too

Chapter 35: Where Is Your Savior?

Pairing: Isabella Moretti (OFC) x Mob Boss Negan

Warnings: Mention/description of burns. Violence. Graphic description of violence & injury. Blood. Lots of blood. So much gore. 

Previous chapter // Masterlist

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eensy weensy

genre: fluff o

word count: 1K

summary: hoseok is in desperate need of a roommate with very specific skills. Roommates!AU.

Originally posted by troiskims

Your eyes wander absently over the scribble of text on the screen, fingers scrolling mindlessly down on your screen as you look through roommate advertisements. It’s late and dark in your room, the only source of light coming from your phone screen illuminating your face in a fluorescent glow and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open and you know you’ll be regretting this over a strong cup of coffee at your 7AM lecture tomorrow, but you’re also in dire need to find an apartment. 

Preferably male.”

“Can cook and clean. Must be an attractive female 19-22.”  You feel your eye twitch. What the everliving fuck.

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j-hopemixtape  asked:

if you were given the chance to tell jimin anything you want, what would you tell him? 🌸🌟💖💫

ok be ready because i don’t know how long this is going to be hxjkvk i just have so much love and words can’t add up to it so here i go,,,,

if i had the chance to tell him anything i would say:

jimin,, mi tesoro, mi cielo, mi corazon, mi luna de miel, mi amor,, i love you !! i truly feel its a miracle witnessing you make up all the light in this world, and i am so grateful ! in fact, i’m so humbled to be existing in each others’ universes along with so many others that i’ve encountered thus far, and they’ve only brought me even more space to bring pure adoration for you and every !! beautiful !! being i encounter throughout my days. your laughter and smile makes flowers bloom in my heart every minute, and at this point, it’s a whole monet garden with lilies and roses and a fountain flowing with love and support for you and everyone around me.

you take up the most space in my head !! you take up the whole house, the rooms, the kitchen, even the dusty corners of my mind. you flicker the lights on and off, run through the hallways, open all the doors and windows, lower the AC to the coldest degree and i’m suddenly awake,, i’m no longer wherever i am at that moment. i am Home. i walk back into myself and you’re there,, and i’m happy its home when i see you ! i get this feeling of pure comfort in the pit of my stomach knowing i carry you with me wherever i go. i’m consumed in honey love and the idea of safety is always wrapped around you.

you’re the sunset reflecting the warm streaks of light and the illuminating sky when the sun has said goodbye to my side of the world to greet yours. you breathe and glow this cosmic love with your planetarium heart and it shows in all the stars and moon basking in all the energy you shed on the world. you’re,, the kindest spirit and you truly inspire me to grow love for myself every day. i feel that you carry everyone else’s hearts and lose balance sometimes,, just the effort you offer to help those around you makes my whole being shatter because you just continue to prove the genuine care you feel for others. it makes me ache !!!! i cry at your smile knowing you’ve made so many positive changes for everyone. it’s overwhelming being able to witness timeless healing unravel before my eyes. but please remember the balance that makes up your essence,, you’re so beautifully giving to everyone, but i’m sure you save some of that care for yourself at the end of every day.

one last thing, you are Love. you leave me and millions so overjoyed simply knowing that Love is you. you represent this wondrous, celestial, out of body sensation that is unconditional, unadulterated, and pure and i am simply changed at the thought of you,, the universe shifts with this intense yet subtle gleam,, and i just know in my gut that you cause these unearthly effects that leave me believing we truly are more than just skin and bone. you defy space and time by just Being, and i don’t think i can ever compare you to another love i’ve had in my life; they all grew roots from you💌

jimin, may your 22nd year and every single year after that be days full of growth and care. may everyone’s sweet words to you serve as reminders that we support you in all you do !!! te adoro con todo mi ser y alma, mi amor !!!!!

Lessons In Survival

Mark Blackthorn x Kieran of The Hunt

Lesson #1: There are no Shadowhunters here.

I am a Shadowhunter. I am a Shadowhunter. I am a Shadowhunter. He repeated it like a mantra, muttering it under his breath while the wind whistled in his ear. He mumbled it at night, a lullaby to put his mind at ease. He let it occupy his thoughts, a last defiance to claim the identity he had always known. They could rip him away from his family and the world he knew, but they couldn’t take the angel out of his blood. At least not literally.

They walked across barren land with Gwyn at the front. A few of the faeries laughed and sniggered boisterously while others kept quiet, keeping their exchanges to meaningful looks and nods. Mark kept his gaze focused on the sky in front of them. These were not his people. They had no kind words or warm expressions for him. But he felt their gazes searing holes into his skin, hot like hellfire.

“I am a Shadowhunter,” he murmured to himself. He noticed the faeries several yards ahead of him had stopped walking and were beginning to make themselves comfortable. A fire pit was under construction a few feet away from Gwyn. Mark was certain he would not enjoy the comfort of a freshly kindled fire.

“What was that?” A gravely voice from behind Mark sneered. A hand had reached out to grab Mark by the back of the neck. The grip was steel around his feeble skin. New bruises were sure to replace old ones. 

“I am a Shadowhunter,” Mark repeated, louder this time with conviction in his voice.

The faerie behind him tightened his grip and pulled down hard causing Mark’s knees to buckle and his back to arch. Other faeries had begun to surround them, putting Mark at the center of the spectacle.

One faerie approached the two, looking at them with a keen interest. He glided over to Mark, taking his wrists into his calloused palms and outstretching his pale arms for inspection.

“No runes,” he announced before pulling Mark’s arms to reach towards the sky while the first faerie kept him in place. 

A third faerie had entered the picture and yanked Mark’s shirt up to just below his chin before he called out, “No runes here either!” He then lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Mark. “But we can give you some if you so desire.”

He was hauled to his feet and dragged to the fire before being shoved to his knees to kneel before it. His instincts told him to fight, but logic told him to hold still. It would only be worse if he resisted, and after all, it’s not like he had anywhere to run. There is no safe place in The Hunt.

They lifted his shirt up to expose his back. Now everyone was watching. The tip of a sword was thrust into the flames, the steel becoming orange with heat. Mark could see what they were doing. It was right in front of his face. They wanted him to know what was coming, let the anticipation make it that much worse.

The sword was removed from the fire and shoved into Mark’s back in one swift movement. Only the pointed edge pierced the skin, but that was enough. Mark ground his teeth to keep himself from screaming out as the angelic rune was burned into his skin. He bit through his lip when they carved in the fearless rune, and finally he screamed his throat ragged when they marked him with the rune for courage.

“Where are your angels now, Blackthorn?”

Lesson #2: Lonely is safe. 

After the incident with the fire and the “runes”, Mark kept to himself. He kept his head down and stayed at the back of The Hunt. He did everything he could to not stand out in any way. The “runes” on his back served as a painful reminder of what would happen if he dared to challenge the status quo. There were only faeries here, and the dead, but it was the faeries he had to worry about. 

They hadn’t paid much mind to him in awhile, but they were always watching. They were always waiting for an excuse to jump down his throat. He didn’t give them one. He did not match their leering gazes or respond to their biting remarks. It was lonely, but it was safe. He rode with The Hunt on his silver mare in silence, naming the stars after his brothers and sisters.

Lesson #3: It means nothing to be a prince.

Most days in The Hunt blended together, becoming indistinguishable as a different day, week, month, or year. It was all the same, except for the one day that stood out from all the others. There was no way for Mark to know at what period in time during his stay with The Hunt that this event had occurred. But it did become a pivotal moment for him as a hunter. 

He had no real concept of time, all there was were the days before Kieran joined The Hunt, and then the days after.

Kieran was a dangerous looking thing- all sharp lines and jagged edges. But he was also beautiful. Even when they found him chained up in the cavern, left to become a part of The Hunt. It was no surprise when Gwyn addressed him as “Prince Kieran”. Even contorted oddly on the floor of a cavern, Kieran looked like a prince. He exuded an air of arrogance that only gentry royalty could be capable of.

From the very first glimpse, Mark was fascinated by the creature that was Prince Kieran. His ever-changing ocean hair dictated by mood and black and silver eyes made him quite the object of enthrallment. Like Mark, Kieran preferred solitude, and also like Mark, he was the object of vicious taunting.

There was no security in being an ex prince. The others denounced him because of it, calling him “princeling” amongst other things. There was no respect for the title he once held, no respect for being the son of a king. Just a boy who was different, and for that he would suffer.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Mark had thought.

Lesson #4: An ally is essential.

The two outsiders did not care for niceties with the other hunters, nor did they find any worth at merely looking at their companions, but Mark watched Kieran, and Kieran watched Mark. It was the classic game of shifting eyes when one wasn’t looking. It was subtle and curious, undetectable and full of wonder. 

They were a brilliant contrast of day and night, the sun and the moon. A hunter with white-gold hair sat atop a silver mare that never strayed too fair yet never came too close to another hunter with dark blue hair that often resembled the ocean under moonlight who sat upon a black, skeletal steed. It was like the sun chasing the moon, or the moon chasing the sun without ever bumping into one another. 

The game of watching without being seen, chasing but never colliding, finally came to an end at the hands of cruelty administered through a whip. Kieran watched the others take out their rage against the Nephilim who had hung their friends on Mark. They whipped him till the skin on his back was in shreds and the snow on the ground ran red. 

It seemed nothing short of a crime to do something so ugly to a boy so beautiful. The sound of Mark’s screams made Kieran want to shove the edge of a dagger into his own ears to make it stop, but instead he stood there expressionless as his insides turned ill and his heart screamed in agony. 

He couldn’t stop them. He wanted to. Oh God he wanted to, but his attempts would have been futile. Better to let them release their anger and clean up the aftermath than provoke them further and suffer who knows what, making the situation worse for the both of them.

Instead Kieran tended to the injured Nephillim with a gentleness he himself had never been shown. It was amazing how one could learn to be gentle through the absence of it.

Mark had been equal parts delighted and surprised to find an ally in Kieran. Although the soft touches made it feel like something more than just an alliance formed out of necessity. 

Kieran looked like sharp angles and jagged edges, but there was a tenderness in him that turned Mark’s curious ogling into genuine adoration. Kieran found a strength and loyalty in Mark also worthy of adoration. He wondered what is was like to love your kin enough to withstand such vile abuse. Kieran’s family would never do that for him, and vice versa. 

All within the same night Mark had experienced the most hatred and the most amity thus far in The Wild Hunt. He would never say it out loud, but being held in Kieran’s arms made the whipping worthwhile. He would endure a thousand whippings for just a moment of affection.

“The wounds that blemish your skin, do they still ache?” Kieran asked, touching Mark’s hair softly. His long fingers slipped through the tresses with ease. It was impossible to tell if the action was more calming to Mark or Kieran.

“There are far worse pains to bear than those that will scab over and heal,” Mark replied, leaning into Kieran’s touch.

Kieran nodded soundlessly in understanding.

 It hurt far worse to be alone.

Lesson #5: All you need is one.

The sun still had a few hours before it would relieve the moon of its duties, which meant Kieran and Mark still had time to remain hidden in the safe place underneath Kieran’s woven blanket.

Kieran took advantage of Mark’s positioning that had his naked back pressed into Kieran’s torso to trace the various scars that decorated Mark’s back. Some were “runes” from before Kieran joined The Hunt and some were lashings from the incident that served to bring them together. In Kieran’s opinion, all of them were beautiful. They proved that Mark was strong. They proved that he was a survivor.

“Kier,” Mark groaned sleepily, “Must you do that? The sun has not yet risen, it is time for slumber.”

“I have found better ways to occupy my time, Shadowhunter. Sleep cannot offer me this kind of pleasure,” Kieran kissed Mark’s shoulder softly, his hot breath cascading up Mark’s neck. 

“What pleasure you derive from touching such imperfections is beyond me. It causes me great grief to even think about their presence,” Mark huffed, but shifted closer to the faerie prince. 

“They are a part of you and I find every part of you beautiful. Consequently, the scars must then, too, be beautiful,” Kieran grinned, pushing his face into Mark’s neck. 

“I do very much appreciate you indulging in my vanity,” Mark smiled brightly, turning to face Kieran whose hair had turned a pale blue that reminded him of the clear waves of the ocean that he and Helen had played in as children. “Your hair has lightened.”

“Indeed it has. As it always does in the fleeting moments we have alone,” Kieran whispered as he let his hand rest against Mark’s cheek.

Mark nudged his nose against Kieran’s, encouraging him to keep going. Kieran took the hint and closed the minuscule space between them. Kisses like this made Mark forget about it all. During the time that Kieran’s lips were on his he forgot about the home he used to yearn for. All he could think about was the wind that whistled in his ear as he held onto Kieran’s waist whilst atop his stallion. In this way he loved The Hunt because he loved Kieran.

Perhaps he would always be a Shadowhunter amongst faeries. Perhaps he would always be an outsider, but he had found one to confide in, and in Kieran he had found more than just enough to survive. He had found enough to thrive. 

Legend of WELP! #28

Pit: Wow, Link’s taking a beating but he just keeps getting back up. He seems really motivated to fight Rosalina and Palutena.

Mario: I wish I could hear what he’s screaming. I bet it must be something really heroic and epic.

Link: *…just HAD to leave an unspeakable demon in the Earth… thousands of years of this crap… most people are lucky enough to have only ONE fucked up childhood but nooo, me and Zelda have to have HUNDREDS! OVER AND OVER AGAIN! FOREVER! … why don’t you Goddesses do your own dirty work, Huh? …And why did I get stuck with the part of the Triforce that doesn’t do ANYTHING? ALL THE TIME? AT LEAST LET ME HAVE WISDOM OR POWER JUST ONCE!*

Pit: Whoa! He just took a stock off Rosalina! 

Mario: Yeah, but, is he starting to cry?

Pit: Huh. He’s not losing that badly…

Link: * …I just wanted to see her again… turned me into a fucking adult… Did you guys have to flood ALL of Hyrule? That’s how you solve your problems? Just drown everyone? And why did you even create a mountain called Death Mountain??? … we tried our best… we always do… Fi’s at the bottom of the fucking ocean… *

Pit: Um, now he’s just sitting there? 

Mario: His opponents are comforting him…

Pit: What are they even saying?

Link: I’m sorry… I just…

Palutena: You just need a break from fighting is all.

Rosalina: There there. Would you like to come go karting with us some time?

Link: … what’s Go-Karting?

A Second Chance - Part 4

Wow… Long time no see on this story. So sorry for all of you who have been loving this story and tirelessly waiting for it to post. 

The inspiration for this story has been lacking, so any ideas please submit them to me. I do have anon asks open. 

You can find Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 all on my Master Fanfiction List.

Enjoy and as always please let me know what you think!

“Here? You’ve been staying here?” I asked, aghast.

Jamie nodded, a small smirk tugged at his lips at my look of disbelief. He reached out and helped me down from the horse.

“Aye, Sassenach. It’s no much, but it’s home.”

The small cave was well hidden behind leaves, flowers, and such thick branches of wild bushes that I was surprised he found it in the first place. The cave mouth showed the foot traffic of the wilderness, not a single sign of human disturbance.

My mouth hung open in horror and shock. No fire pit, blankets, comfort, or any sign of a home. Deep into the cave a barrel sat corked with a small wooden cup atop it and a roughly hewn plate beside it. He was surviving off the bare minimum, scraps, and hardship. My eyes started to water.

“How?” I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper, breaking with the unshed tears.

Jamie frowned, his left shoulder lifting up in a nonchalant shrug. “I’m doing what I must to survive.”

“So alone,” I whispered. Gently, I cupped his face and soothed my thumb across his prickly cheek bones. “I never want you to live this alone again. I’m here. Brianna is here. You have no need of this solitude.” I implored.

“Aye, but I do, Sassenach.” He said, then gripped the hand holding his face. “I must keep the family safe, more now than ever. Wi’ ye and wee Brianna here,” he paused, and shook his head. My fingers felt the fresh tears being shed streak down his face. “I canna let anything happen to ye. It would kill me, mo nighean donn. If the English were to come searchin’ and I was there, death would be all that would ensue.”

He breathed hard and pulled me against him, burying his face in my hair. I planted my free hand deep into his curls, stroking the tender skin surrounding his skull.

“I’ll never leave you.” I told him with conviction, “Never again. You sent me away once for my safety and nothing good has come from that separation. I cannot—no I will not—let you go on living this way. I need you, we need you. Please don’t banish yourself from us.”

I felt him sob into my hair in response. His hands tightened their grip around my waist.

“Mo Sorcha,” his voice was husky and broken, “Mo graidh. Tha gaol agam ort.” He kissed down from my forehead to my chest muttering broken whispers of Gaelic.

“Jamie,” I breathed out. “Jamie. Jamie.” His name was a chant, a mantra, a prayer that I couldn’t stop.

His nose dragged up the column of my throat, peppering kisses as he went. “Mo graidh, I need you.”

“Oh God!” I exclaimed. Jamie had ripped the laces free from my corset and flung it aside to free my breasts from their confines and into his mouth.

“Not God, Sassenach.” He laughed and bit down on my nipple. Pleasure rippled through me, a scream caught in my throat.

“Please,” I cried as he switched breasts, biting again. “Jamie, please!” I begged.

I could feel his smile against the sensitive, tender skin under my right left breast. His two-day old stubble scratching sensually as he tore his way through my stays.

“I like it when ye beg, Sassenach.” He wrenched my skirts from my body and I stood there in my shift, which hung loose atop my shoulders. The lightest touch and it would fall helplessly to the ground.

“Let’s see how much ye can take before ye are crying out for more.” Jamie’s hand gently cupped the curve of my shoulder, brushing my shift off causing it to pool on the ground. His right hand traced lightly down the swell of my breasts, to the now more rounded area of my stomach. His ring finger, stiff and unyielding, followed the silver lines of the stretch marks caused from my pregnancy with Bree.

I gasped in pleasure as his left hand went to where I wanted him to be the most. My hips bucked involuntarily. He leaned forward and bit my shoulder, then soothed the spot with his tongue.

The vibration of his voice sent spikes of pleasure through my body, though his words were lost on my lust addled brain.

“Jamie,” I attempted to say, unsure if the word was uttered or not.

His finger slipped inside me.  I threw my head back with a gasp, unable control myself. For the first time since that horrible day at the standing stones, I could feel. My body was on fire, the flames flicked up from my center to the tips of my breasts, all the way to my hairline causing my hair to stand on end. The slightest touch sent a convulsion of pleasure through me. I grunted in protest when Jamie’s hands released me and his touch disappeared from my skin.

“Shh, a graidh.” Jamie soothed. “Are ye goin’ to beg for me, Sassenach?”

I groaned at the tone of his voice, but shook my head. I would not give in. He let out a low growl and his hands were back on my arms, dragging me slowly closer to him. My nipples hardened further as they brushed against the wiry curls of his chest hair. My mind was too muddled to comprehend when he had undressed himself.

“Mo nighean donn,” he whispered, grabbing the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into his arms.

Jamie carried me deeper into the cave, but I didn’t care. He was there, in my arms, real, solid, hard beneath me.


“Next time ye say my name like that I’m taking it as ye beggin’ me.”

Jamie placed me on a fabric of some kind that lined the cave floor. The heat and weight of his body pinned me to the ground and to the present.

“Jamie!” I gasped as he entered me.

“What did I tell ye, Sassenach? Next time ye called my name like that…” He trailed off and thrust once, hard, causing me to grip his arms tight, both of us groaning in pleasure.

A rhythm that I never believed possible to find again became reality. The slow push and pull accompanied by heavy breaths enhancing each movement gradually became fast and frantic. I had no control over my body, my mouth, or my thoughts. I was lost to the overwhelming feeling that was Jamie.

“Christ, Sassenach!” Jamie cried, as his weight fell fully on top of me. A sweaty mass of limbs encircled me, pulling me ever tighter and himself ever deeper. “I didna believe it was possible,” he murmured into my skin.

“Hmm?” I muttered, still in a state of bliss.

“I ne’re believed to have this. This feeling of bein’ complete, mo nighean donn. I havena felt it since the day I sent ye through those cursed stones. Now to have ye here again,” he shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

“I know what you mean, Jamie. I never thought I’d feel whole again, or loved.” I shakily found my words, and touched his cheek.

“I canna let ye go, Sorcha,” Jamie whispered, turning his head to kiss the palm of my hand.

“Then don’t,” I said simply.

A smile that made my heart skip a beat lit up his face at the same time that his needs became apparent once again.

“I canna get enough of ye, mo nighean donn,” he groaned, kissing my neck.

“There will never be enough time in the day to make up for what we lost.” I whispered back. “Take what you must, my love. I’ll willingly give you anything you desire.”

He rolled us, though, so that he was now below me. “No, Sassenach, take what ye must from me.”

Cautiously, I rolled my hips, gaining my bearings once again. Jamie’s face contorted in pleasure at the motion. I steadied myself, my hands gripping his chest, and started moving in that way that caused his face to contort into a look of pure ecstasy.

The more we reconnected, the more I could feel my heart and soul stitch itself back together.

I was finally, home.

A witness protection AU set in the States, yeah? Like…

When Harry wakes up in the hospital he’s told that he’s been in a coma for four weeks. He sleeps a lot – has to ask what happened to him several times a day, until the fog starts to clear in his mind another few days along the line. He got shot, outside the building of his flat. Is told by middle-aged officers that the noise he heard before he passed out wasn’t a fucking car backfiring because it’s two thousand fucking sixteen, but an earlier shot piercing through someone’s skull. His bullet hit him in the middle of the chest – not aimed as precisely as the first one had been since it was taken in the middle of a hasty getaway – a shot meant to take out the witness Harry didn’t know he had become. Harry’s lucky to be alive, apparently.

Keep reading

glitterprinxe-deactivated201705  asked:

okay i know you have answered this a million times but im going to monumentour and i have pit tickets and i was hoping you could break down all your basic rules yknow like all in one place because reading all these anons is incredibly confusing and they were really helpful for a concert i went to in october, but it was much smaller

  • If you have long hair, put it up tight.
  • Wear deodorant.
  • Wear something comfortable and light - pit is hot and packed. 
  • Jeggings or jeans are best. Something with pockets and material that is somewhat durable is best.
  • No bags. NO BAGS.
  • For girls- Wear a sports bra over your bra and put your money/credit cards/phone in your tit pocket. The sports bra keeps it tight so your phone doesn’t fall out.
  • If you put your phone in your boob, make sure you have a durable cover and make sure the screen is facing out so you don’t smother it in boob sweat. 
  • No flip flops. Or heals. Or slip on anything. Get some fucking combat boots or converse and tie that shit up tight cause if someone steps on your heal and you lose your shoe, it’s gone.
  • If you wear glasses- either wear contacts or get a strap for them. 
  • Don’t take that many pictures. Live in the moment. A few in the beginning is fine but seriously there are thousands of photos out there of the same thing- Enjoy the show. 
  • Make friends with the people around you. Look out for each other. If someone falls, help them up. 
  • Don’t grab/scratch.
  • DON’T FIGHT. Even if someone pisses you off, the last thing everyone in the pit needs is the person halfway up their ass receiving a punch to the jaw and then everyone is one big fighting soup of humans. 
  • Don’t throw things on stage. 
  • Refrain from screaming ‘I WANNA RIDE YOUR FACE’ a billion times at the band members. 
  • Respect all bands. If you don’t like Paramore- tough. If you don’t like New Politics- tough. If you don’t like Fall Out Boy- tough. They are all friends and did this tour for their fans. There are people there wanting to have a good time and see their favorite bands. Don’t act like a shit stain if you don’t like one of the bands.
  • Don’t complain when there’s pushing- If you can’t take a hit, get out of the pit. It happens. You screaming for people to stop will not make them stop. 
  • HYDRATE HYDRATE HYDRATE. Start hydrating like a week before the show. 
  • Pee before the doors open. You won’t be peeing for a while. 
  • Don’t fight over the drumstick. Much. 
  • If you are that special part of the barricade that Wentz climbs on at the end of Saturday- Don’t grab his wiener. Also don’t scratch him or tear his shirt off. 
  • Don’t piss Marcus off. 

If anyone has any additional things that I may have missed, feel free to add them!

Tips to Moshing

1. If you don’t feel comfortable in the pit, leave. No one is forcing you to be there. If you don’t feel a-okay with having strangers crush into you and touch pretty much every part of you, moshing probably won’t be your scene.
2. For the love of god, don’t just stand there. Dance, jump, throw your arms up, but don’t stand still, it makes it more awkward for everyone around you.
3. Be symbiotic. Let people flow between you. Don’t be that asschump that shoves their elbows into everyone around them.
4. If someone faints or is about to, HELP THEM. The best thing you can do is either get them out of the pit yourself, or call a guard to pull them over the barrier to safety. Fucking standing there with a limp body next to you makes you look like a goddamn fool.
5. On the flip side to this, if you feel faint and you think you will faint, get the hell out. You’re not doing yourself any favours by staying. And hey, you could get carried out of there like a goddamn war hero (it seems a bit humiliating, but its actually kinda bizzarely fun, trust me).
7. Feel free to take pictures and videos, but don’t do it the whole bloody gig. You look like a tool and you’re missing the experience.
8. BE KIND TO EACH OTHER. You all share an intense love for whoever is performing, so enjoy it together.
9. Just don’t be a dick, okay?