dim of the yard!

roseymama  asked:

My birthday was last week (5/21) but if you're in a lull and want to backtrack I love fluff and/or arranged marriage situations.

Originally posted by datemisstravel

How very fitting that our last story at everlarkbirthdaydrabbles is in response to what was, in fact, our very first submission! We’ve held onto this an entire year, gleefully looking forward to the day that we could fulfil this request! So happy birthday to you @roseymama, this incredible piece of Everlark was crafted just for you by the most wonderful @appleblossomgirl0305!

Blessed Accidents

A/N: Happy, happy day, birthday girl! I hope you have an incredible birthday and phenomenal year to come! (I also hope you have nothing else to do today besides eat cake and read this, as it is embarrassingly far too long for a drabble.)

To the @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles angels that have made this birthday gift exchange possible, thank you so, so much. You have done something so beautiful for the entire fandom.

Rated M

Trigger warning: parental abandonment

Katniss couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong. She could feel it, gnawing insistently at the back of her mind like a headache coming on, but couldn’t figure out what had thrown her so off-balance. At nearly eighteen, Katniss had spent the past six years keeping her small family alive, a finely calibrated existence that kept them skimming just above oblivion. She was well aware that any small disaster could be their undoing, so she was vigilant in her watchfulness.

She glanced over at Prim, who was sitting at the kitchen table, schoolwork open in front of her. Katniss followed her sister’s eyes as she cast a worried look at their mother, who was making tea in the small kitchen.

Katniss’ eyes narrowed as she took in her mother, her blond hair brushing against her shoulders as she swayed back and forth, humming quietly to herself. As Katniss scrutinized her, her mother turned dreamily towards the window and closed her eyes, smiling into the soft morning light. This can’t be good, thought Katniss. But if anything, her mother looked perfectly healthy, robust even.

As she and Prim walked to school, Katniss did a quick mental inventory of her mother’s recent behavior and found no warning signs of the crippling depression that had nearly killed them all. If anything, lately her mother had seemed the opposite, too… happy. It had taken years after their father’s death for her mother to crawl out of the chasm of her grief. In the past few years, she had even resumed work as a healer, training Prim to assist her and freeing Katniss up to dedicate more of her time to hunting and their continued survival. But the humming and private smiles were new. Katniss scowled, if her mother was going to fall apart again, she needed to figure out how to protect Prim.

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anonymous asked:

I currently have 16 days left of school and I'm very stressed out to the point, where I'm vomiting. Anyways, could you possibly write a very fluffy scenario with either 76 or Jesse and them trying to calm and relax their s/o?? Thank you so much sugar!! 🌸

I’m SO sorry this is a few days late!! I’ve been hella stressed myself and finally caught up on my classwork from being sick with a cold. I hope you feel better really soon and I hope that this helps make you feel a little better! I send lots of love and hugs and support and positivity spells your way!

So, how about 76 AND Jesse? :0


Jesse McCree

“Jesse, usually, when your romantic partner is stressed, your job as their romantic partner is help them chill out, not kick them out of their home for hours!” You pressed your thumb and forefinger against the bridge of your nose and you waited for your boyfriend to reply on the other end of the receiver. You sat in a large squishy armchair in some random study cafe, waiting for your dear, dorky significant other to allow you to come home.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I really am!” McCree exclaimed over the droning chatter that went on in the background on his end. “Just promise me you won’t head home until I tell ya to. I’m planning something fun fer us. It’ll help calm ya down, I promise.”

You sighed softly but a small smile graced your lips anyways. He was going overboard but at least he was trying his best.

“Fine,” you replied. “Just don’t take forever.”

You settled down in your big leather armchair and occupied yourself with casual mobile games and the occasional drink refill until, more than a couple hours later, Jesse shot a text your way: “Mosey on home lil darllin’, I got a surprise 4 you” ending with a smiling cowboy emoji. With a snicker, you paid and made your way home.

“Cowman?” you hollered as you made your way into your house. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be found but you could hear rattling in the backyard.

As if to confirm your suspicions, Jesse hollered from the backyard patio, “Out here, sweet pea! I’m just finishing setting up!”

“This better be good, cowman!” You snorted and tossed your jacket in the entryway closet before making your way through the small house and out to the backyard, where you stopped and gasped.

The patio had been transformed into a gazebo of sorts, with dark blue and cream-colored sheets hanging off the roof’s overhang and draped over the railings. Dim, white leftover Christmas lights decorated the stair rail leading into the yard, as well as the patio swing and he back door. A nest of sleeping bags and blankets covered the side adjacent to the patio swing, bordered by several TV dinner trays holding snacks and a portable holographic DVD player.

Beyond the patio, the backyard was surrounded by black night, though more dim lights seemed to flit around in the bushes of your garden, matching the stars that twinkled in the sky. The picnic table that was usually hidden along one side of the house, due to lack of company, had been moved to the yard’s center, cleaned up, and covered with a thick blanket. Sitting on the edge of the table was McCree, wearing his best faded plaid shirt and jeans, holding his arms out wide and sporting a cocky, welcoming grin.

“Whadd’ya think?”

“Christ, McCree,” you murmured, stepping off the last step into into the yard, “I was expecting dinner or a musical or something, not all this.”

“You were having an especially rough time, so I created an especially great night fer us.” The cowboy slipped off the table and strolled over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. He kissed your forehead before turning you around to have your back against his chest and facing the backyard scenery once again. Resting his chin on your shoulder and pressing his lips against your ear, he continued in a low, slow voice, “So, ‘ere’s my plan. First, we’ll lay out here on the picnic table and stargaze for a bit. Just talk and stuff. Then, after it gets cold, we’ll migrate to the fort where we’ll cozy up, pig out, and watch an awesome collection of old Westerns and cheesy musicals until we fall doze off. How’s that sound?”

“Absolutely amazing, Jesse.” You placed your hands over his where they lightly rubbed your waist and turned your head to kiss his scruffy jaw. “Thank you so much.”

“Nothing’s too much for you, sweetheart,” your favorite cowman replied. He returned the kiss before releasing you, then placing a hand in yours to lead you tothe blanket-clad picnic table to start your cozy nightly adventure.

(Soldier 76 under the cut)

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Stay With Me - Submission from user @mvrcy

From @mvrcy to @missvadner

At 11:23 P.M. on October 25th, 2077, Sombra told Satya the truth.

She’d been baiting along the architech for months in hopes of getting an inside contact to retrieve information for her on Vishkar, find someway to blackmail “Symmetra” into helping her using the dirt she’d dug up on the corporation. But after a few preparatory emails and months of digging through files and records, it was clear that Satya, despite having a high rank in the corporation, knew next to nothing about Vishkar’s true dealings.

And with that realization came a sense of duty that was wholly foreign to Sombra. Satya didn’t deserve to be remembered as some high-ranking Vishkar employee; history would be too unkind to her for that. She needed to be an example, a hero. She deserved to be.

At 12:04 A.M. on October 26th, 2077, Sombra received a request for a video call. She’d never taken one before; showing her face on camera was dangerous. But this was different; this was Satya.

She clicked answer the second it popped up.

“I’m sorry,” she said right as it connected, expecting to see the architech in tears, angry, something. But her face was completely blank.

“Is it safe to assume that Natalia is not your real name?” Satya asked, raising an eyebrow. Sombra nodded. “How should I refer to you then?”

Her voice was so calm it was unsettling. She didn’t seem angry at all; she seemed completely indifferent. Sombra knew she wasn’t wrong to reveal the information, and she was certain that Satya had no idea about the full extent of Vishkar’s doings. There was something terrifying about how she was handling it, like the eye of a storm. Completely serene while everything around her was being torn apart. “Sombra,” Sombra said.

“Sombra,” Satya repeated, almost as if she were testing the feel of the word. “Very well. Miss Sombra, at exactly 3:30 this morning I will be at my window. I’m assuming you know where I live.” Sombra nodded. “Meet me there, and take me away. Wherever you are will work.”

Satya ended the video call, and the window disappeared from Sombra’s screen. Sombra sat back in her chair, exhaling slowly, processing. Take her away. Meet her at the window. Take her away.

Wherever I am. Sombra blinked. No, Satya couldn’t come there, not to Talon. That was hardly an improvement from Vishkar. Sombra herself could barely stand doing work for them, but she could only throw so many missions before Talon became suspicious of her and the possibility of reconditioning would appear.

At 1:37 A.M., Dr. Angela Ziegler stood in her lab at the watchpoint, reviewing files on her computer. A notification for a new email appeared in the corner of her screen, and she clicked on it absent mindedly, welcoming the distraction from paperwork. The sender’s address was obscured so that she could not see it, and the message was short, and simple: I have a recruit.

Sombra was five minutes early to Satya’s apartment. She stood in the street, Satya’s apartment being on the second story, and wondered if she had the right window. There were three that overlooked a street, and they were all spread in weird places. She’d decided to stand under the bedroom window – it seemed to be the place Satya would most likely be so early in the morning – but she still paced back and forth, stopping every so often if she thought she heard a noise but being to restless to hide completely.

At 3:30 on the dot, the curtains pulled apart, and the window slid open. “Sombra?” Satya’s voice whispered into the night, and Sombra smiled up at her.

“Here, amiga,” she said, waving. “C’mon down.” Satya shot her a look that was somewhere between confused and apprehensive.

“You want me to jump?” She asked, and Sombra laughed quietly.

“Well, you can, but you don’t have to. I hear the front door is also a suitable way to exit a building.” Satya clicked her tongue.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she chastised, and pulled back from the window. “I will be down in a minute.”

When Satya exited the door, she was dressed in a black dress with dark red lining, and had a bag slung over her shoulder. “What is your plan to get out?” She asked. Sombra grinned.

“Well, it’s a bit unconventional,” Sombra said, extending her hand to the architech. “But you’re just going to have to grab on and trust me.”

Satya stared down at her outstretched hand for a moment before taking it. “Okay,” she said. “I trust you.”

Sombra’s heart skipped a beat, and she had to look away from the architech to regain her composure. Her face felt hot. “Good,” she responded, and she activated her translocator. They disappeared from the street in a dim flash of purple and reappeared several yards outside the development, where Sombra had left her transport. Satya was clutching her head, looking like she was trying very hard not to throw up.

“When you said unconventional,” she began, taking a few deep breaths, “that was not what I was expecting.” She reached back into her bag and pulled out her hard light bender, sliding into the passenger seat of Sombra’s transport and slowly forming small shapes with the bender and spinning them around.

“Sorry,” Sombra said, and Satya shook her head.

“No, it was very efficient. I… thank you, for coming for me.” Sombra felt her face flush.

“Of course. I wasn’t going to leave you here, with all that information dumped on you. That would be cruel.”

The architech simply hummed in response, continuing to spin the various 3-D models around with her hand. Sombra turned on autopilot and allowed the ship to take off, headed for Gibraltar, where she could only hope Dr. Ziegler would be waiting. Or any of the reformed Overwatch team.

People who could help Satya, and keep her safe.

At 5:09 A.M., the transport landed in the docking area of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Sombra gently prodded Satya awake, and Satya took a moment to survey their surroundings.

“You’re with Overwatch?” She asked, eyes wide.

“Not exactly,” Sombra replied. “I don’t work for anyone, really. Just myself. But the organization I’m currently… ah…” she paused, looking for the right way to put it. “…Affiliated with, lets say, is not the kind of place I want you to be.” Satya’s gaze cast downwards.

“I see.” She took a deep breath. “Is this goodbye, then?” Sombra shook her head.

“No,” she said, maybe a little too quickly. “I mean… it doesn’t have to be. We can stay in contact.” She smiled. “And, this is the kind of organization I would prefer to be affiliated with. So perhaps, one day, I will see you here again.” Satya smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Sombra felt her heartbeat speed up, could hear it thumping against her ribcage. She was glad for the dark, lest Satya see how red her face way. “Goodbye, Satya,” Sombra said quietly, and the architech stood.

“Goodbye, Sombra,” she responded, still smiling. She stared at the hacker for a moment before extending a single finger and reaching out towards Sombra. She pressed it against Sombra’s nose for a second, grin widening. “Boop.”

Sombra sat in stunned silence and watched as Satya disembarked the plane. She could see out the window that Dr. Ziegler was indeed there to greet her, as were some others she only knew by face. She took off without really thinking about it, her mind still replaying Satya’s light touch in her mind.


At 2:38 P.M. on March 30th, 2078, Satya and Sombra were curled up together on the corner of the couch, watching some old movie from the 2040’s and sharing a bowl of popcorn. Sombra glanced up at Satya and beamed, and the architech raised a brow.

“What?” she asked, and Sombra’s smile widened. She reached up and pressed her forefinger to Satya’s nose.


Satya laughed. “I love you too.”

 I’ll be posting this on AO3 on May 7th, I’ll be sure to tag you & my person !!

Happiest Place on Earth

Written for the 100 Kinks List,  #27 Inappropriate location - requested by @ancoowner and @kittenofdoomage Summer Lovin’ Challenge. My prompt was amusement park.   

Author: Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Demon!Dean x female reader

Word Count: 1732

Warnings: explicit language, nsfw, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, maybe dubious consent (if you squint), rough sex, public sex, some voyeurism,

Author’s Notes: This does not take place in Disneyland, just a random made up amusement park. I stole their logo for the title. This was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it!

Originally posted by nocturnal--soul

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Backyard Champagne

I want them to get drunk together in the woods behind their parent’s house.

The music and murmurs of the party blurred into a dull ruckus through the forest. Lexa inhaled the deep mossy air of her backyard and took another swig from the champagne bottle that tapped against her thigh.

Inside, people were looking for her, to congratulate her, to wish her well, to send her off. Her parents were toasting with the fanciest wines, with their fanciest friends, with their fanciest clothes, and all Lexa wanted was to not have to smile along and agree with what they said.

So she took to the backyard to escape the smothering that came with congratulations for her degree. The summer evening chilled her bare legs, but she fought against it anyway.

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Beauty and the Beast

I love love love Dan Stevens, and can’t wait to see the new Beauty and the Beast… also my fav animation. In celebration… a little Karoline take on the tale… to be serialised here

Caroline Forbes hated her job. It sucked. There was no denying it. But, it wouldn’t be forever, she told herself as she loaded the deliveries in the van and pulled out her checklist and addresses, all carefully sorted in route order on her tablet. She slammed the door to her battered ride and slid into the driver’s seat. Some way to spend your 21st birthday, she though sourly, as she slid on her sunglasses and flipped the radio station on.

At least there’d be dinner and drinks, lots of them, legal drinks, for once, later this evening. She pulled out of the depot parking lot and started to make her way to the highway, along mains street, peeping the horn at her friend Matt, who was outside his bar, unloading kegs, his tight shirt clinging in all the right places. She rolled down the window and whistled as she drove past, giving him a wave as she sped down the same street she had driven a million times. Yep, it was pretty depressing to still be stuck in the same small town she’d grown up in at 21 years of age, but hey, she had a plan. She was getting out of here, it was just taking a little longer than she’d planned.

Hitting the highway, she accelerated, winding down the window as she went, letting the hot dusty Virginia air stream up her arm and ruffle the curls that lay around her shoulders. Feet tapping to the music, she followed her route on autopilot. Yep, Matt had looked GOOD, she mused, but been there down that, and a birthday backslide didn’t seem the best idea.

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Marc Bartra Imagine || Valentine's Day

Marc is my favorite person in the world and I love him to infinity and beyond. That being said, I reserve the right to be mad at him for not being here on Valentine’s Day, even though I know it’s not his fault. He had an away game on the 13th and was supposed to be back that night, but his flight got cancelled because of some weather issues, so their moron of a coach decided it was best for them to stay the night, train there in the morning and then catch another flight home in the afternoon. Which means Marc will be here later tonight, missing most of our first Valentine’s Day together. He told me he never liked Valentine’s Day that much, but I was still excited to spend the day with him, so the way things worked out, or didn’t work out, really pissed me off.

 “What are you doing here, Y/N?” My assistant and best friend, Sophia, asks following me into my office.

“What am I doing in my office?” I retort sarcastically. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a magazine to run.”

“I meant what are you doing here on Valentine’s day, smartass?” I sit at my desk and sigh. “Why aren’t you with Marc?”

“Because he’s an idiot.” I snap and she takes a step back. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m taking this out on you. It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault either, actually. His flight got cancelled and he’s not going to be here until tonight.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it. Let’s just get some work done so I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself all day.”

 I spend the next hour or so going over some articles for next month’s issue of the magazine, mentally shrugging at every mention of words like “relationship” or “love” or “boyfriend”. I never knew there was something worse than being single on Valentine’s Day, but apparently being in a happy relationship and not being able to spend the day with the person you love beats it.

 “Y/N?” Sophia knocks on my office door and walks in, holding a black box. “This just came for you.” She places the box on my desk and I read the gold inscription on it.

“Maison des Fleurs.” I smile to myself, removing the lid. About a hundred of what must be the prettiest pink roses I’ve ever seen are carefully arranged inside the box. As I’m admiring my gorgeous flower arrangement, I notice a little note placed in between them. “The most beautiful flowers for the most beautiful girl. Wish I could be there. I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day! - Marc” I read the note out loud, earning a bunch of aw’s from Sophie.

“You have the best boyfriend, Y/N.” She smiles at me, as I’m still looking at the flowers.

“I do. I just wish he could be here.” I sigh.

“Did you guys have plans for today?”

“No, he’s not that into Valentine’s Day, but I hoped we’d at least be together, you know? I got him a present and I was going to make dinner and decorate the patio, so we could have a romantic dinner.” I’m getting sad just talking about it. “It’s silly. Nevermind.”

“It’s not silly. It’s your first Valentine’s Day together. That’s exciting.” She walks closer to my chair. “But if he’s coming back tonight, don’t you still have time for all of that?”

“His plane lands at 11 PM, so no.” This conversation is depressing me even more. “We should get back to work.”

“No. You should go home and decorate the house and do whatever else you were going to do, because Marc is going to be here tonight. You can have a very late romantic dinner. It’s not like you have anywhere to be tomorrow.” I’m looking at her like she has lost her mind, which might just be true. “Go, Y/N! It’s Valentine’s Day and you have an amazing boyfriend. You don’t get to sit in an office all day!”

 I don’t know if it’s because Sophie’s arguments were convincing enough, or because I’m afraid she will physically kick me out, but I leave my office without a word and drive back home. The more I think about what she said, the more I realize how right she is about everything. I walk through the front door of the house I share with Marc, determined to make this the best Valentine’s Day ever, even if we have to postpone it for a few hours, but it looks like someone beat me to it.

The entire hallway is covered in rose petals, leading to the living room, so I follow the path and my heart literally skips a beat at the sight in front of me. The entire room is filled with bouquets of roses in every color you can imagine, carefully placed in vases and spread all over the furniture, the floor, everywhere. They look like something out of a movie and smell even better.

 “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N!” I hear a voice say from behind me, so I turn around to see Marc standing a few feet away with the most beautiful smile on his face. I’m at a loss of words, so I just stand there as he walks over and pulls me into a hug.

“You did all of this?” I ask, pulling away and looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes. He nods. “I thought you couldn’t be here. When did you get home?”

“As if anyone could keep me away from my beautiful girlfriend on Valentine’s Day.” He smiles and kisses me, keeping one of his hands on the small of my back, as if to keep me from getting even an inch away. “Wait. I have something for you.”

 Marc leads me to the living room, carefully stepping between all the vases, and makes me sit down on the sofa, before handing me a nicely wrapped box that I hadn’t even noticed laying on the coffee table. I smile and give him a quick peck on the check, before tearing the wrapping paper away from the box and opening it, to reveal a silver bracelet with three charms on it. I pick it up from the box, so I can see the charms better. Two of them are our initials and the other is an infinity sign. It’s such a meaningful present that I can’t help but get teary eyed as Marc secures the bracelet around my wrist.

“Do you like it?” He asks.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.” I smile, admiring my new accessory, that I have a feeling I won’t be taking off anytime soon. “But I love you more!”

“I love you, too.” Marc leans in and kisses me, as I straddle his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I almost forgot. I got you something, as well.” I say, breaking the kiss.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding me?” I look around at all the roses and dangle my new bracelet in his face. “It’s nothing compared to all of this, though.” I run to the kitchen and return with another present wrapped box.

“Let’s see.” Unlike me, he removes the wrapping paper carefully, so he doesn’t tear it, which doesn’t seem to serve any other purpose other than to make the whole thing take a million years longer, but I’m too happy to care. “Whoa. This is really nice.” He picks up the watch I got him and puts it on.

“I was going to have it engraved, but I forgot, so it’s nowhere near as beautiful as the bracelet you got me but – “ He interrupts me.

“Stop.” He smiles at me and I suddenly forget what I was so worried about. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you!”

 Marc pulls me back onto his lap and we kiss for a while, before he suggests that we open one of the chocolate boxes he got me, that were apparently spread amongst the vases. I didn’t notice them before he pointed them out, but now that I do, I’m sure there’s enough chocolate to last us a lifetime. Or maybe not, because we’re us. In the next few hours, we manage to eat almost two of them, while cuddling on the sofa.

 “Hey!” I squeal as he takes the half empty box of chocolates away from me, placing it back on the coffee table.

“At this rate, we’ll get through all this chocolate in a week.” He laughs, slapping my wrists away when I reach for the box. “Maybe we should have dinner instead.”

“Is it dinner time already?” I grab his hand and check the time on his watch. It’s 5:30. “Time really does fly when you’re having fun.” I grab another chocolate from the box and run away to the kitchen before he can take it away from me.

 Marc follows me into the kitchen and we end up making dinner together, which usually turns into a lot of screaming and even more burnt food, ultimately leading to eating takeout in the middle of the night. Not this time, though. We manage to pull together a decent meal and Marc is extremely proud of himself for finally figuring out what most of our kitchen utensils are meant for. He is still confused about the meat grinder because “it looks suspicious” and “what if you accidentally get your finger in there?”.

 “I’m going to set up the table on the patio.” I say, grabbing a few things and making my way to our backyard.

 It turns out that he beat me to this, as well. The table has already been set, with candles and another gorgeous flower arrangement, making this better than any romantic dinner I could have ever imagined. The dim lighting in our back yard makes everything look absolutely perfect.

 “Oh, right. I forgot about this part.” Marc says, popping up behind me.

“You know, for someone who hates Valentine’s Day, you sure did a great job with all of this.” I laugh and wrap my arms around him.

“I might hate this holiday,” He kisses the top of my head. “But I love you.”

“You’re a very sneaky guy, Mr. Bartra.” I giggle as he kisses me again. “And I’m a very lucky girl.”

anonymous asked:

Spy Au first kiss pleeeaaassseeeeee

Percy slides down the shipping container to sit beside her. Their failure is written all over his face: blood shining on his split lip, a cut on his forehead, a deeper one across the bridge of his nose, splinters in his hair. She’s sure she looks the same. Her right eye is still throbbing, swollen and half-closed, but she can see him fine enough in the dim, distant flood lights of the shipping yard.

A second passes, the beep of the bomb’s timer loud in the silence between them.

“I can’t believe we lost,” she says, blinking tears from her eyes, hot as her anger. Buried beneath that is a fear she doesn’t want to recognize. Of the bomb on the other side of the steel wall at her back. The wires she wasn’t able to cut.  The clock counting away the explosion that’ll soon tear her body to pieces. Death, and whatever’s after. “I didn’t think—“

“Hey.” He slides his palm against hers. The tremors in her fingers still. “We didn’t lose. When the—when it goes, we’re taking the intel with us.”


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anonymous asked:

Imagine Bucky didn't fall out of the train and ended up with Steve when they crashed the plane and the two of them ended up being thawed out within a few days of each other

He knew the impact would be violent, but he hadn’t expected it to be that violent. Steve had grabbed him and braced with the shield but it hadn’t been enough. Everything had blurred together in a twisted mess of shrieking metal and shattering glass, the feeling of pressure and weight as if the sky itself was falling onto him, before everything went black.


Bucky wasn’t sure how long he was out, woken by the cold burn of water dripping onto his leg. He tasted blood on his mouth and felt the warmth of it dripping down his face but he paid it no mind, forcing his eyes open to try and see in the nearly-black cockpit.

“Steve?” he croaked out, coughing up a mouthful of thick blood. That wasn’t good. None of this was good. When he got no answer he tried to push himself up, momentarily forgetting his mangled left arm. He choked down a yelp and gritted his teeth, the acidic burn of the blue bolt Schmidt had hit him with now bright in the forefront of his awareness. The round had only grazed him but it’d been enough for it to tear through his sleeve and into his flesh, and now the sinister glow of it was advancing up his arm like a demented infection, eating away at him slowly. He knew that he only had a few hours, a day tops, before it got into his chest and he’d die.

“Steve?” he tried again but there was still no answer, his heart thudding loudly behind his ribs in fear. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw a dark shape a few yards away, partially hidden beneath a scratched shield. He completely ignored the pain when he shoved himself to his feet, needing to know if Steve was alright.

“Hey— hey, Steve, Stevie, wake up—” the cold was starting to creep into his voice, teeth chattering and whole body starting to shiver violently. He wasn’t going to make it more than a few hours in this cold but maybe Steve stood a better chance. He felt for a pulse and was horrified when he felt the warm tack of blood, but the heartbeat that thumped slow but steady under his fingers was assurance enough. He slid to his knees next to him, pushing the shield out of the way to wrap his arms around his friend’s torso.

It was stupid, he knew it, and he could just hear Morita’s blood pressure spiking at the mere thought of it but Bucky gathered Steve up in his arms anyway, getting as much of him up off of the cold metal floor as he could. Steve groaned in pain but he didn’t open his eyes, face caked in half-dried blood and hair matted with it; Bucky was more terrified about that than the alien energy slowly consuming his arm.

He knew he was likely not much warmer than the surrounding air but any little bit could be enough to get Steve through the next few hours while they waited for rescue. He curled himself around as much of him as he could, some delirious part of him wishing Steve was small again, he was so much easier to fold himself around when he’d been small.

God, he was already so cold. Steve was cold too; everything was cold, colder than the coldest winter he and Steve had lived through. That was the year the radiator had gone out and they had to curl up together for warmth under every blanket they owned. He could only hold out hope that Peggy and the Commandos could find them before Steve froze to death.

Bucky tightened his grip on Steve and pulled him closer, keeping his left arm as far away as he could, not wanting the death creeping through it to cross to Steve. He was shivering so badly and couldn’t feel much of anything, only aware of the faint warmth of blood and the meager body heat that leaked through Steve’s uniform. He almost barked out a morbid laugh at the whole situation; he’d always feared Steve would die young, wouldn’t make it through the winter, and now here they both were freezing to death in the belly of some wrecked plane. It seemed even the promise of the serum curing his ills wasn’t enough to get Steve out of that fate.

His eyes started to slip closed and he shuddered out a heaving breath, the cold sunken clean through to his bones. The air was thick with the smell of sea salt, and he tried to focus on it and the soft rise and fall of Steve’s chest against him, tried to imagine they weren’t both dying in this God forsaken plane and were sleeping back in their apartment, that one cracked window letting in the spray-laden air from the ocean. The dark was closing in on his awareness and he knew he was going to die, he could only hope Steve held on long enough to be saved. That was the only important thing. He was dead anyway, with the blue energy lacing its way up his arm and towards his heart, there would be no saving him.

Without willing it his eyes slid shut and he couldn’t open them back up, felt his heartbeat slow down and he knew it, knew this was it. He mumbled a choked sorry into Steve’s hair, trying to focus on anything but how cold and lifeless Steve felt before the darkness overtook him.


The first thing he realized was that he was warm. He felt sunlight across his cheek and softness underneath him and he let out a wheezing exhale. His left arm still felt cold, pins and needles of ice up and down the length of it. He couldn’t seem to move it and that was dimly alarming but that wasn’t what was at the forefront of his awareness. Something was breathing against his right arm, a delicate puff of warmth every few seconds. It was enough to bring him to open his eyes.

Bucky groaned at the brightness, everything warm cream colors and flashing sunlight, but he turned his head despite the horrible stiffness of his muscles to try and get a better look. Bright, gold blond hair sticking up every which way told him immediately that it was Steve, a huge weight dissolving off of him in an instant. He was alive. The Commandos must have found them.

Steve was leaning onto his cot, one arm folded under his head in a makeshift pillow as he slept. Bucky found himself smiling just a bit as he lifted his right arm, smoothing down the more unruly tufts of Steve’s hair and nearly laughing at the way he leaned into it like a cat. He hurt all over but Steve had made it, somehow they’d both made it, and that was good enough for him.

Those first few seconds of awakening were unclouded with the reality that his arm was missing, or that the radio was playing a game that had happened long ago in the past, or that the machine monitoring his heart beat was foreign and strange. Nothing else mattered at the moment, just that they had both lived through that hell, somehow.


Title: ‘Ghosts’
TV Show: The 100
Summary:  Trapped in the rubble of Tondc, Marcus Kane is saved by the last person he expected. A kabby AU fic that stems from the premise: What if Jaha had been just a few seconds too late to stop Abby from being floated in the first episode?
Rating: General (AU that includes major character death - see above)

Marcus awoke to a world full of rubble.

There had been…an explosion. He remembered that. Fire and noise and pain, and the sickening sensation of the world falling away beneath him. He had been knocked unconscious, clearly, but for how long? There was nothing that gave him any sign; the only thing he could see in the dim light was the crumbled remains of what must have been the buildings of Tondc, pressing in from all sides. If he strained his ears he could hear faint noises – distant screams and moans coming from around and below, but no-one within sight. His leg…

His leg was trapped. He tried to move it and nearly passed out again. It took several minutes for the agony to subside into a dull steady throb of pain. At least after some effort he was able to free his arms enough to move them, although a tentative exploration of his face revealed that he was covered not only in a thick layer of dust but a wet sticky substance that felt a lot like blood. The effort involved just in that slight amount of movement had him panting for breath, his pulse hammering. He lay limp against the rubble, trying desperately to think past the pounding in his head.

“Doesn’t look good, does it?” said a nearby voice.

Startled, Marcus raised his head a few painful inches, squinting into the dim, crumbling space around him and saw—


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minimalism - calum smut

pairing: calum + y/n

rated: R

word count: 5,210

request: “can you do one about Calum where it’s like a one night stand (you know each other and just fucked bc you were high and in the mood) not intimate but then the next morning you wake up together and Calum is amazed bc he’s never seen you in that way before but then he does you really slow and good omg please and thank you you’re writing is amazing” -anon

a/n: i absolutely adored this idea, though i did something a little bit different with it. i’ve decided to divide it into two parts, so expect part two sometime in the near future. i hope you like it! thank you for the request.

- - -

The air was cold, but something about the polar gusts of wind comforted you. You enjoyed the raw way the freezing weather bit at your cheeks, reddening your skin and numbing your fingertips. It made you feel, and after spending days on end cooped up in your bed, dreading the thought of the outside world, it was there in the winter weather where you finally found some sort of solace.

You were sat on a flimsy park bench just a short walk’s distance from campus. The sky was dimming with each passing second, the streetlamps a few yards away coming alive and illuminating the dark pavement beneath. You were shivering by the time you saw his old van pull up to the curb, squeaking and grating before it was put in park.

Calum Hood was someone you knew quite well, but not as well as you wished you did. He was completely alluring in all the ways that made you weak: dark, unruly hair, thick brow constantly furrowed over secretive brown eyes, lips ample and swollen always. He wore oversized jackets and smelled of cigarettes. You were sure that he tasted like them, too.

You willed yourself to stand up after a moment of examining the exterior of his van. You had never been alone with him before; only enjoyed his company throughout the hecticness of a house party, or that one time when you met him and a few friends at a bar outside of town. He didn’t attend your college - he didn’t go to school at all, actually.

So when you could feel the nervousness settle into your bones as you swung open the passenger door to his car, you knew exactly why your heartbeat quickened.

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Sugar Crash

Part 2 of Orphans and Angels

Original Requests:

Hey I just read ‘orphans and angels’ and it was great and I was wondering if you’d done a second part and of so could you link me to it and if not could you please do one if you have time and stuff?


I saw you do fanfictions and if you don’t want to do this you don’t have to just thought I’d ask if you want could you make a fanfiction wherethe reader tries suicide butGabriel stops her?kinda be a gabe x readerLike I said if you don’t want its fine

Word Count: 1273

Summary: Gabriel takes his friend to see her long lost father, John Winchester. Unfortunately she is hit with the realization that he may not want her in his life.


Author’s Note:

I want to reiterate what I’ve said before. I am always all ears to listen. I am bipolar and stories like this hit close to home. I know how the depression won’t fully go away, even when the problem is solved. But having someone to be there for you is VITAL. And you have that here. Please let me know if you need anything or need to talk.

Depression is real. And it hurts.

But someone to listen can help ease that.

I’ll happily be that person.

I hope you enjoy the story!

Please read Orphans and Angels before this! This is the second part.

“I… I can’t take you in, [Y/N].” Gabriel whispered and grabbed my hand. We were standing in front of an old house inside a junk yard. A few dim house lights flickered inside. I could hear voices. Two older men and two younger by the sound of it. They were fighting

I looked into the window and caught a glimpse of who was talking. One of the older men and the youngest looking of them were shouting. Loudly.

“Is that him?” I pointed to the dark haired older man. I looked at his features and ran a hand down my face. He looked familiar… Like a face in a dream. It was him. John Winchester. My father. Gabriel nodded slowly.

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Isaac- We’re Bringing Her Back

Request-  Requests open! Yay An Issac imagine were u find out you’re mates? And you kiss and its cute? Hope you had a fantastic Christmas

A/N- Thank you! I hope you had a great one too. So it might not be as cute as you hoped. Next up is a Stiles imagine.

You sat in english class, hastily scribbling down notes about The Crucible as your teacher lectured on about Puritans and their values. You were trying to pay attention, and maybe on another day you would have, but you couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that had you nearly squirming in your seat.
You cast a glance outside the window, hoping that maybe looking at the pretty blue sky would convince you that everything was fine. You should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, because of course nothing was ever easy in Beacon Hills. The coming supermoon did nothing to change that, and it might have actually been making things worse.
One seat behind you, Isaac Lahey couldn’t help but notice your nervous demeanor. He knew he should have been paying attention, especially since he had a lot to catch up on since he had returned from France, but he couldn’t help his concern. He had always been worried about your safety, even after you had broken up when he left.
He knew it might not be his place anymore, but old habits die hard, and he saw nothing wrong with just listening to your heartbeat for a few seconds. He frowned as he heard it alternate between different speeds, as if you were constantly trying to calm yourself down. He knew it might not be a good idea to ask you about it, especially with the current state of your relationship (virtually nonexistent), but he decided to ask anyway.
“Hey,” he whispered, poking you gently in the back with his pen.
You jumped slightly as Isaac pulled you out of your thoughts, looking back at him with a frown on your face. “What?" 

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And The Story Goes... Chapter 17

‘The Song’

I woke up in the middle of the night, completely disorientated in the dark, and sat up with a bolt as I looked around.  Recognising the guest room of Jared’s house, memories of the day started to filter back to me, clouded by the several glasses of wine me and Emma had consumed throughout the evening before we had all left Constance’s house when we realised it was getting late.  Despite being so far away from home, I had had a lovely Christmas Day surrounded by the Leto’s and their friends.  Everyone had been so welcoming, and despite Jared’s usually grumpy nature he had completely relaxed after the present swapping and our little conversation about his job offer.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, long after me, him and Shannon had come back to the house and I had gone to bed.  I couldn’t believe I was actually considering taking him up on it.  There would be a lot of details to work out, a lot of careful planning around my work load, and me and Jake would need to sit down and had a serious conversation about hiring an assistant photographer to fill in while I was away.  But the more I thought about it, the more possible it became.

I had seen firsthand how hard he worked, how much of himself he invested in what he did, and I knew that he would do everything he could to make this a success.  To be a part of that would not only be financially beneficial, and a great boost for my career, but it would be… exciting.

Wide awake now, I swung my legs out of the bed and threw my cardigan on over my pyjamas, padding down the stairs toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.  As I stood leaning against the breakfast bar, looking out at the dim security lights illuminating the pool and the back yard, the faint sound of music drifted down the hallway and I stood still, listening to see where it was coming from.  Living in a flat in London I was no stranger to noise and people and activity filtering through the windows at all times of the night – but in Jared’s detached house set into the hill on a quiet road, the sound was a foreign one.

Setting my glass down on the side I walked through the house, following the gentle guitar playing until I reached the door of their home studio.  Realising one of the brothers was awake and probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed I hesitated at the door, my hand against the surface as I listened to the soft melody coming from inside the room.  It wasn’t anything like the upbeat, rocky stuff I had heard from them before, and curiosity getting the better of me I pushed the door open slowly, peering inside.

Jared sat on the piano stool, his back to the keys as he looked down at the guitar in his hands, his fingers moving over the strings as he played and hummed quietly to himself.  He looked like he hadn’t slept, his hair dishevelled and the stubble on his face starting to out grown the designer look and turn into more of a 5 o’clock shadow.  But he looked relaxed, and peaceful, the most comfortable I had see him look in all the time I had known him.  He looked beautiful.

“You can come in, y’know.” He said quietly, his head still bowed as he played.

I blushed, cringing inwardly as I realised he had known I was just stood here watching him. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I said, still loitering in the doorway.  “I got up for some water and heard you playing.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, pausing to tighten one of the strings, testing the note again.

“Not really. You?”

“I don’t sleep much.” He said, running his fingers down the strings.  “I think I travel so much my body doesn’t have a clue what time zone it’s in.”

He smiled faintly, relaxing his hold on the guitar and looking up at me.  “Come and sit with me.”

I stepped fully into the room and let the door close behind me, wrapping my cardigan around me as he watched me cross the room towards him, sitting gently on the piano stool next to him.

“I’ve written some of my best songs sitting here, middle of the night.” He said, looking out of the window across the room at the moon high in the sky.

“I liked the sound of this one,” I said, gesturing towards the guitar in his hands.  “It’s very pretty.”

“I wrote the music months ago but couldn’t find the right lyrics at the time.  I got er… inspired, a few weeks ago.  Wanna hear it?”

He looked at me sideways, hands poised on the guitar as he waited for my answer.  I nodded, tucking my hands under my legs as he started to play the tune from the beginning, looking down at the frets and concentrating.

‘Witness, tell me, what you think of my life
Judge me, jury, if I’m wrong or I’m right
I’ve got, secrets, and lies, that will blow your mind…’

He paused to look at me, just a brief glance, and I realised I was completely captivated, watching him sing.

‘You’re the one that taught me not to love – I’m the one that taught you to say no
Away I go, away I go, away, I am a ghost’

His voice was breathtaking, low and quiet, and his eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in the song, performing for his audience of one.  I almost felt like I was intruding on something that was private for him.

‘Jesus, save me, I’m in love with this hell
Murder, madness, can’t escape from myself
I’ve got, secrets, and lies, that will change your life
You’re the one that taught me not to love, I’m the one that taught you to say no
Slow down, slow down, slow down – don’t let go
Away I go, away I go, away, I am a ghost’

He stopped playing, looking straight ahead for a moment before turning back to me where I realised I was just sat still, watching him.

“What do you think?” he asked, eyebrows raised slightly.

“It’s beautiful.” I smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s about you.”

I blinked, my tummy doing that nervous twisty thing when he looked at me like that. “Really?”

“After I saw you in London and we had that fight… I thought about the things you said to me.  Ended up writing the lyrics on the flight the next day.”

I replayed the words he had just sung in my mind, and instantly felt awful, a frown creasing my forehead as I watched him watching me.

“Jared… I am so sorry for the things I said to you that day.  I was so out of line it was unreal – I had no right to make such a snap judgment on you without even knowing you…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, cutting me off with a little wave of his hand.  “I’m not sure if your perception of me isn’t a little bit accurate, to tell you the truth. And besides, you should never apologise for the way you feel.”

He moved his guitar off of his lap, resting it against the side of the piano, and before I knew what I was doing I took his left hand in between my own, bringing his attention back to me.

“How about I give you the updated version?” I said quietly, trying to tune out the voice in my head telling me this was not a good idea, and taking a deep breath in. “A month ago I thought you were infuriating, and demanding , with this incessant need to control everything and get your own way, and I still think that now.”

“Er… thank you?” he chuckled, and I shook my head to signal I wasn’t finished, looking down at his hand in between both of mine. 

“But I feel like I know you better now,” I continued. “You’re also kind, and driven, and so focused on what needs to be done that I think you forget that you’re entitled to some time for you.  You intimidate me, and you excite me, and sometimes your mood swings make my head spin.  But underneath all of it, I think you’re a good person.”

I watched as his long fingers curled around mine, locking my hand in place.  “I excite you?”

I looked up at the low tone his voice had taken, and saw his eyes darken as he watched me.  That predatory look was back on his face, and I held my breath as I answered him.  “Yes.”

The hand wrapped around mine pulled sharply, tugging me to my feet in front of him before reaching up to wrap his hands round my waist, bringing me towards him so I straddled his legs as he sat me down on his lap.  I laughed, steadying myself on his shoulders, and he frowned up at me.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to laugh,” he said, smirking despite trying to sound annoyed, and I grinned back at him.

“Stop trying to control everything.”

I kissed him then, fisting my hands into his hair and holding him to me, feeling him tense in surprise before relaxing into me.  His hands left my waist long enough to push my cardigan from my shoulders, throwing it to one side before running his hands down my bare arms, sliding down my back to my ass, gripping me to him.  I could feel the effect I was having on him through the thin fabric of his jogging bottoms and I moaned lightly against his mouth, grinding down against him.  He broke away from the kiss, grabbing the hem of my top and yanking it up and over my head, exposing my breasts to him.  I blushed, feeling like a nervous teenager, and moved my arms as though to cover myself.

“No,” he said, catching my wrists and pulling my arms to my sides.  “I want to see you.”

He dipped his head to my nipple, taking it into his mouth and biting gently, teasing me with his tongue until I dropped my head back with a sigh, pushing my fingers through his hair.  Running his hands down the bare skin of my back he moved to my other breast, repeating the slow torture until I couldn’t take any more.  I looked down at him, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, finally getting to see that tattoo on his chest.  He stared up at me as I trailed my fingers over the lettering, and I leant down to plant little kisses along the words, gently nipping his collarbone as I moved my hands from his chest down his tight stomach muscles, moving to cup his erection through his trousers.

He let out a growl as I touched him, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head up, bringing his mouth back to mine with a crushing force as I moved against him.  Moving my legs until they were wrapped around him he gripped my ass, standing up from the stool and lifting me with him, carrying me across the room with ease and not breaking the kiss for a second, his  tongue caressing mine as I held the back of his neck to steady myself against him.

I felt his feet hit something solid and I opened my eyes as he dropped me down onto the sofa, his hand instantly grabbing the hem of my pyjama bottoms and yanking them down my legs, dropping them to the floor as he looked down at me laid out before him, naked except for my underwear.

“You are so… beautiful.” He muttered, kneeling on the end of the couch by my feet and smoothing his hands up my legs, his eyes travelling the full length of me as he moved to his knees and hovered above me. 

Resting his hands either side of me he dropped his head to my stomach, nuzzling the bare skin as he kissed and bit down on the flesh there, the roughness of his stubble grazing against me.  He travelled his way up the full length of me, crawling along me until we were skin to skin, his mouth caressing the side of my neck under my jaw as one hand slid back down my torso and between my legs, cupping me roughly.  I gasped, opening my eyes as he brought his face level with mine, watching me as his fingers started to drive me to distraction.

“Jared…” I whispered, moving underneath him as I tried to get closer to him, to intensify this feeling he was building.

He pulled my underwear to one side, pushing a finger inside me, then two, and I closed my eyes as I moaned at the contact.

“Open your eyes.” He said, his lips fluttering over mine until I did as I was told. “I want to see you let go.”

I stared up into his eyes, struggling to maintain the eye contact when all I could focus on was what his hand was doing, and panting as I tried to catch my breath I reached down and caught his wrist in my hand, stilling him.

“Wait,” I whispered, moving my hand to the waistband of his trousers.  “I need to feel you inside me first.”

Not needing any more encouragement he moved slightly, pushing his trousers down from his hips and sucking in a breath as I closed my hand around him, looking down as I stroked him.  Shifting his weight he moved between my legs, his hand pulling my underwear to one side as I guided him towards me, desperate to be closer to him, and he paused as he brought his face back to mine.

“Never say no to me.” He said, his mouth crushing to mine at the same time as his hips thrust him into me roughly, making me cry out as I arched my back from the sofa.

He covered my mouth with his free hand, muffling the moans escaping me as he pushed into me over and over again, watching my eyes as he brought me closer to the edge.  I lifted my legs, locking them around his back and digging my nails into his shoulders as I came, hard, grateful for the hand that muted my cries so that I didn’t wake the whole street.

I watched his eyes light on fire as he let go of me, moving his hand to grab my hair, yanking my head to one side so he could growl into my ear.  “Good girl,” he said, not faltering in his rhythm for a moment.

Sliding his hands underneath me he tilted my hips up towards him, the full weight of his body pressing me down into the couch in such a delicious way I wasn’t able to take a proper breath.  Matching him thrust for thrust I watched him as he threw his head back, adams apple bobbing and eyes closed as he slammed into me one last time with a cry of release, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I could already feel the bruises.

Breathing heavily, a fine layer of sweat coating his forehead, he opened his eyes and looked down at where I lay beneath him, legs wrapped around him tightly as I relished the feeling of him inside me.  He smiled then, the slow, victorious smile of someone who had finally gotten what he wanted, and he ducked his head to kiss me gently.

“I have wanted to do that since I saw you standing in that corridor.” He said against my lips.

I thought back to the first time we had met – him rushing through the O2 getting ready for the show, me standing there soaking wet from the rain and trying to rescue my camera – and I giggled against him.  “I looked like a drowned rat!”

“You looked incredible,” he said, kissing across my cheek before taking my earlobe between his teeth.  “And then you rolled your eyes at me and I wanted to fuck that condescending look right off your face. It was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

I bit my lip, smiling to myself as I remembered the events of that night, how he had simultaneously been arrogant and gorgeous, intimidating and unbelievably sexy.  “I probably would have slapped you if you’d tried.” I laughed.

He lifted his head back to look at me, smoothing my wayward curls away from my face.  “It only would have made me want you more.  I knew the second you pulled away from me on that stage that I had to have you.”

“That’s because you have to get your own way.” I pointed out.

“Yes, I do.” He nodded.  He moved then, pulling out of me and sitting up sharply, grabbing my hands and pulling me up with him.  “And right now what I want is you, up those stairs.  This sofa is great n’all, but I want you in bed.”

“And what if I say no?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows mischievously.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest so close that my entire vision was taken up with those blue eyes of his.  “I told you – never say no to me.”

the-sand-demon  asked:

Is there a chance you could write a prompt of Daryl and Beth having midnight talks once the group is reunited and he tells her how he felt when she got taken and while she was gone and have it get all fluffy? Thanks lol

sure thing, thanks for the prompt! 

The air inside the house had been a bit stale and stagnant, so of course Daryl preferred to be outside. He sat on the porch, crossbow nearby, one leg propped on the railing as he gazed out at the cloudy night sky. So many thoughts clogged his head. He couldn’t believe Beth was back, safe, unharmed overall and mentally stable. She’d smiled at him, hugged him, even cried as she clung to his vest, but he hadn’t done more than hold her. He’d remained wordless throughout their whole reunion. In fact, he’d only spoken to her once today, when he’d knelt by her bed and told her to get some rest.

It still hadn’t hit him. She was alive.

“Why’re you alone out here?”

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My dear Teri Polo now has a painting by Davyd Whaley. It’s called TIAMAT. Tiamat is the symbol of primordial creation. Depicted as a woman, she represents both the beauty of the feminine and yet also the chaos of the birth of creation.

Teri Polo has been such a dear friend to me. She read this poem, so beautifully, at Davyd’s memorial service:


A shadow of joy flickered; it is me.
I told you I wouldn’t leave.
My spirit is with you.
My memories, my thoughts are
imbedded deep in your heart.
I still love you.

Do not for one moment think
that you have been abandoned.
I am in the Light.

In the corner,
in the hall,
the car,
the yard –
these are the places I stay with you.

My spirit rises every time you pray for me,
but my energy comes closer to you.
Love does not diminish,
it grows stronger.

I am the feather that finds you in the yard,
the dimmed light that grows brighter
in your mind,

I place our memories for you to see.
We lived in our special way,
a way that now has its focus changed.

I still crave your understanding and
long for the many words of prayer
and good fortune for my soul.
I am in the Light.

As you struggle to adjust without me,
I watch silently.
Sometimes I summon up all the strength
of my new world
to make you notice me.
Impressed by your grief,
I try to impress my love
deeper into your consciousness.

As you should,
I call out to the Heavens for help.
You should know that the fountain of youth
does exist.

My soul is now healthy.
Your love sends me new found energy.
I am adjusting to this new world.
I am with you and I am in the Light.

Please don’t feel bad that you can’t see me.
I am with you wherever you go.
I protect you,
just as you protected me so many times.

Talk to me and somehow I will
find a way to answer you.
Mother, father, son or daughter
it makes no difference.
Brother, sister, lover,
husband or wife, it makes no difference.

Whatever our connection-friend or even foe-
I see you with my new eyes.
I am learning to help wherever you are,
where ever I am needed.
This can be done because I am in the Light.

When you feel despair, reach out to me.
I will come.

Our love for you truly does
transcend from Heaven to Earth.
Finish your life with the enthusiasm and zest
that you had when we were together
in the physical sense.
You owe this to me, but more importantly,
you owe it to yourself.

Life continues for both of us.
I am with you because I love you
and I am in the Light.

Overwarm October afternoon, on a ladder in a skeleton room, head in the rafters with a low dune of sawdust at about eye level. We are working on a vent. M. is on a ladder outside, and we are positioning a plastic vent mouth in a six inch hole and I am saying things like it’s catching here and do you want me to hold? But this has distant grip on my attention. The flimsy flap opens and shuts as we work to secure it, and makes a blinking in this rafter bay, bright then dim. A big hawk landed on a tree in the back yard earlier in the day. The small dog who lives here barks all day at trucks and men. It is a regular Wednesday. And I could’ve watched what the vent flap did to the light all afternoon. Blinking, dim then bright, it felt like waking up.