echoes in the movement

BTS reaction to their idol crush showing interest in them

Anonymous said: How would BTS react if an female Idol (they have a crush on) actually Shows her interest in them ?? ( + a Lot of other Male Idols have crushes on her and actually tried to Date her)

Ah, I’m so sorry it took me practically forever to get to this ;-;

I hope you still enjoy it though! c:

Rap Monster (Namjoon):

Originally posted by jimiyoong

Namjoon would be backstage with the rest of BTS at a music show, watching your performance in awe and amazement. As the music would echo through the venue, he would watch your powerful movements, his eyes fixated completely on you, wondering how you could pull off such difficult choreography and still look flawless in the process. The other boys would nudge each other, chuckling and giggling to themselves as they would glance over at Namjoon who would still be completely mesmerised by you. 

The truth would be, he would have had growing feelings for you for a few months now, falling for not only your good looks, but also your lively personality, the way you lit up the atmosphere of the room as soon as you walked in. The way you were always smiling and staying strong, even through difficult times. Plus it would be an added bonus that you were a natural beauty. “No wonder practically everyone has a crush on her,” he’d muse to himself, as you watched you take centre stage, capturing the attention of everyone there.

So, when your performance finally ended, the audience would roar up in applause, the lights on stage going out and so allowing you and your group to exit the stage. Namjoon would finally snap out his trance, vigorously clapping and bowing politely as you walked by. While the rest of your group smiled and thanked everyone before walking onward, you’d linger behind, looking directly at Namjoon as your lips curled up in a genuine smile. His heart would skip a beat, a curious expression forming on his face as he’d look around to ensure it was him you were looking at. You’d walk up to him, and before long, the two of you would be deep in conversation, to the complete surprise (and slight jealousy) of the other males idols around. Though Namjoon would act chill about the whole situation, his heart would feel like it was about to burst out his chest in joy, and so when you’d say your goodbyes and walk away, Namjoon would stand there, a grin etched on his face and the other members would pat him on the back and cheer for him. 

Jin (Seokjin):

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

You would be part of a popular girl group under BigHit Entertainment, and although you would’ve just debuted only a few months ago, your powerful style and sheer talent would attract attention worldwide. Being under the same entertainment company as BTS, you would often bump into them; on your way to practice, on your way out, even when coming in to record.

Jin would notice how cheerful you always were, always greeting the staff enthusiastically, and always putting 100% into everything you did. He’d appreciate your hard-working nature, your strong work ethic inspiring him to work harder. He would admire your seemingly effortless beauty, from the way your smile seems to shine brighter than the sun, immediately lifting the atmosphere, and improving the mood of everyone around you. The way your hair would tumble down your shoulders, bouncing around as you walked along. The way your eyes would light up, a small sparkle dancing across your pupil when you danced or sang.

So, one day on his way into practice, he’d notice you humming along with your earphones in, your hair swinging around in a cute ponytail as you’d throw your bag down into a corner, sliding your jacket off your shoulders and you’d prep for a long day of practice. You’d quickly adjust your hair, only to look up and see Jin standing by the doorway, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips and you’d beckon him to come in.

“What, me?” Jin’s facial expression would contort into one of both surprise and curiosity, as you’d beckon him to come into the room. He’d tilt his head to the side, a little like a puppy, which would cause you to giggle and stroll up to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him in. His heart would flip inside his chest, a smile forming on his face as you would endearingly grin up at him.

Suga (Yoongi):

Originally posted by pjkook

(A/N: I’m sorry if this part came out crap, my brain basically fell asleep ;-;)

You would be a solo artist, one of the most charismatic and successful female rappers in this present age. You’d never fail to get the audience hyped at your performances, lights flashing as you’d jump around the stage, the audience roaring and dancing along, as you (pretty much) spit fire from your vocal chords, rapping at seemingly the speed of light. Yoongi would admire you since your debut, clearly impressed by your rapping prowess. 

On the other hand, you would also be an avid fan of Yoongi himself before you debuted. You’d admire his amazing song-writing skills, always listening intently to the lyrics of every song of his and of Bangtan’s. You would look up to him, and so your own style of rapping would have a lot of elements of Yoongi’s style also, from his flow to even how he shut down haters.

During a music show one day, you’d be preparing for your performance, which would be straight after BTS’ performance, staring intently up at the screen while make-up artists would rush around the room, make-up products lying everywhere. During Yoongi’s verse, a grin would creep up onto your face as you’d admire his sheer talent, feeling your body moving along to the beat. When their performance would finally end, and you’d move backstage, mentally preparing yourself to perform. As BTS would walk past, you’d bite your lip anxiously, debating whether to say anything or not. 

“Ah, Yoongi sunbae?” You’d call out, causing him to stop in his tracks, looking over at you curiously. “I was wondering if you had any tips for me before I went on stage?” You’d ask, as you fiddled with your hands behind your back. 

“Uh, sure,” Yoongi would smile, pretending like his heart wasn’t soaring in his chest. He’d feel so happy that you came to him for advice, not Rap Monster, not J-Hope, but him. “So, what you want to do is…”

J-Hope (Hoseok):

Originally posted by cleolux

Hoseok would grin down at his phone, his eyes skimming over the text you had sent him.

You: Hey is this Hoseok?

Hoseok: Yeah who is this?

You: Ah this is (Y/N)? From (Y/G/N)? I was wondering if you could help me with some choreography, knowing how amazing you are at dancing haha

“Ah, what should I do? What do I do?” Hoseok would pace around the room, trying to work out what to text back to seem cool. “Namjoon, what should I say to her?”

“Just tell her, yes, you’d love to help, and arrange a time and place,” Namjoon would laugh, shaking his head with a smirk. “Clearly she admires you, calm down and stop freaking out Hobi.”

He’d take a deep breath, before sending;

Hoseok: Ofc, I’d love to help, when do you wanna meet? ^^

“Phew,” you’d sigh in relief, your heart doing somersaults when you’d realise that you were actually going to meet him, one on one. While you could use some help with your choreography, this was also partly an excuse to spend some time with him, as you would admittedly have had growing feelings for him since the time you first met him.

You: Is Friday good? At around 12 maybe?

He wanted to help you, so why were you feeling so nervous?

Hoseok: Yeah thats perfect, see you then ;)

“Do you think the winky face was too much?” Hoseok would dramatically press his hand against his forehead, a long sigh escaping his lips.

Namjoon would simply hit him playfully, assuring him that everything was going to be fine.


Originally posted by bangtanofarmys

Jimin would stand in front of the mirror, practising what he would say to you, how he would act. He’d push his hair back, smirking in an attempt to look suave, but this charade would only last a few seconds before he’d scrunch his eyes up in embarrassment, giggling at himself, shaking his head.

“Are you still freaking out?” Yoongi would smirk, leaning against the door frame, holding his fist to his mouth as he’d try to suppress his laughter. 

“Hyung!” Jimin would whine, still giggling as he’d push Yoongi out the bathroom, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. He’d sigh, anxiously looking down at his phone, anticipating a text from you.


You’d pace around your dorm room, nervously chewing on your lip as you’d glance around at all the clothes scattered around. “What should I wear, Lisa? Casual? Or should I dress up? Heels or flats?” You’d wave about five different items of clothing in your best idol friend, Lisa’s face, as she’d step back, laughing as she’d wave her hands. “Aren’t you the one who asked him out, (Y/N)? Why are you freaking out so much?” She’d laugh.

“Girl,” you’d put your hands on your hips, looking at Lisa with an expression of disbelief. “Have you seen Park Jimin? Ah, he’s so…” Your lips would curl up in a smile at the thought of him, causing Lisa to hit your shoulder, laughing.

(A/N: That last paragraph is low-key how I feel about Jimin ;-; He’s been wrecking my bias list recently, I’m so sorry Tae ;-;)

V (Taehyung):

Originally posted by taehanstic-baby

Taehyung would look around when you’d approach him, looking a little like a lost puppy. “Is… she talking to me?” He’d ask, his mouth stretched into an O-shape as he realised it really was him you were addressing, despite all the idols sitting at the tables.

While he would be flattered that you’d chose to talk to him, he’d be a little confused as to why him, and not all the other handsome male idols in the room that most girls would kill to even make exchange greetings with. After all, you were one of the most popular female idols in the present age, known not only for your stunning visuals, but also for your amazing voice. So why him?

Despite this, once you took a seat next to him, a pretty smile on your face, he’d relax, and the two of you would hit it off almost immediately, talking about everything and anything, the conversation flowing from topic to topic effortlessly. 

Truth is, you wouldn’t have given much thought about all the others who’d approached you before, trying to act suave as they’d attempt to talk to you. You’d simply politely greet them, turning them down gently so as to not come off as rude. But when you’d see Taehyung sitting there, a rectangular smile on his face as he interacted with everyone in the most enthusiastic way, you wouldn’t be able to help the grin that would creep onto your face, tilting your head slightly as you watched.

You’d exchange numbers, giving him a hug before you walked off again, leaving a blush creeping up on his face while his group members would all simultaneously cheer for him, as he’d press his hands to his flushed cheeks.


Originally posted by buy-me-jams

Jungkook wouldn’t know what to do with himself when he’d see you walking towards him, especially as he’d glance around to see the slightly jealous expression on the faces of the other idols, who were also waiting backstage. He would have had growing feelings for you for a while now, but he wouldn’t know what to do, whether to approach you, or whether to just keep quiet about it, leaving his feelings to bottle up out of control.

You’d approach him, touching his shoulder as you’d greet him. He would open his mouth to say something, only to close his mouth again when he’d realise he had no idea what to say, or how to greet you. You’d giggle at his awkwardness, instead deciding to take lead of the conversation, talking about pretty much anything, from their comeback, to other idols you looked up to. He’d eventually begin to relax, a grin beginning to appear on his face as you’d talk. He’d finally join in with the conversation, laughing and chatting along. 

The other boys would glance over at him, some of them holding their hands to thier mouths, laughing yet surprised at the same time that Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, was actually holding a successful conversation with a girl for once without finding an excuse to run away.

“Wow, our Kookie has really grown up, huh?” The boys would comment in awe, as they stared at the two of you, deep in conversation.
Hitler salutes and white supremacism: a weekend with the 'alt-right'
The ‘alt-right’ conference in Washington wasn’t a gathering of a forgotten white working class. It was a white nationalist movement buoyed by millennials
By Adam Gabbatt

“This was essentially a gathering of racists. Racists who have found a movement that echoes their views and gives them a place to vent their anger.”

the raven cycle characters (1/?) — noah czerny

gansey continued, “don’t look at me like that, both of you. the point is this. we found a body. rotted to bones. do you know whose it was?”
ronan’s gaze held gansey’s, solid.
adam felt like he had dreamt the answer to this question.
behind them, the door to the apartment suddenly slammed shut. they whirled to face it, but there was no one there, only the fluttering of map corners on the wall to show that it had moved.
the boys stared at the subtle movement of the paper, listened to the echo of the slam.
there was no breeze. adam’s skin crawled.
“mine,” noah said.

The first-born are so deeply entwined with middle-earth: more so than any of the mortal races. As such, their fëa is aligned with aspects of the world that surrounds them.

The Sindar are aligned with the trees and animals of their forest homes: they hear the voices of trees and plants, speak as easily to the animals as they do to each other. It is they who woke the trees in the beginning. Their songs can shape the forests to their will, make allies of the fiercest beast or calm the most timid of creatures. They are the twilight under trees, eyes glowing in the shadows, the echo of a voice across the grassy plain and the flicker of movement in the corner of your eye.

The Falmari are bound to the sea: to the very motion of the waves and the patterns of the currents, to every creature living beneath the surface. With a single song, they can summon a sea breeze to fill the sails or call forth the tides. Fish flock to hear their voices, dolphins dance to their music, whales harmonise with their melodies. They are fluid, forever in motion, and as ever-changing as the sea.

The Noldor are curious: forever seeking more knowledge or bringing mysteries to light. They delve deep into the earth, singing to the stone and hearing her sing back. Following the chime of gemstones and the voices of veins of metal ore through the earth. The forge and hammer accompany songs of creation, drumbeats in the deep halls. They raise up their high towers, carving runes of power and protection into the stone with their songs. They are glittering gold with all the strength of the mountains they adore.  

There is always music in Valmar. The Vanyar sing to the Valar, sing to the light of the two trees, sing to the sun and the moon. They glow with the light they have devoted themselves to: gold and silver and the palest of blue. They are eyes too bright to meet, translucent skin shimmering and hair like beams of light.

The Awful Daring: 3.2

summary: She doesn’t see that all along, what he wanted was her. Her, not a perfect wife. Just Sakura. — SasuSaku, AU. 

// previous - masterpost

In France, she’d asked him once if he thought they were going to be happy.  He’d quieted her with a kiss, the movement of his mouth an echo of the waves breaking against the rocky shore, steady and inexorable.

Sasuke is generally perceived as a man of few words; someone who makes his intent known through his actions and not what he does or does not say. Those actually close to the Uchiha know that it’s really a matter of evasion and misdirection. Naruto used to joke that the “chicken-haired bastard” would have made a great ninja during Nippon’s great Sengoku days.

But Sakura had figured out that it was something else entirely: Sasuke had learned to be silent back when every word he’d said was measured against his brother’s and always found lacking.

She’d adopted the same habit during their marriage without ever realizing it.

Keep reading

Creature of the Wheel

You cannot pace me.

Your metronome moves irregularly.

Can you not see I’m bound?
Peel wide the slits of your eyes
see the harness of hardened steel
cured leather and chrome for class
because the indentured clutch at straws
to soften that insistently scratching
unbearable knowledge of fate,

The shaft spins wildly

The wheel spins madly

The engine moans eternally

Because the destination
is an illusion of an ending
that offers only cruel comfort
as all the days crumble soft until
indistinguishable debris
is all the calendar holds,

The storms sweep over and pass
leaving black and white rainbows,
head down dug in and hauling
the colors are saved for others
who see days through clean eyes
and look forward to see more
than the singular sameness
of the circularly enslaved,

Your movements are a dance.

Your world echoes with music.

You never bought your own ticket
to the endless trail looping over
to return to no place over and over,
There is a freedom in your intent
that I will never again grasp,
Lift your eyes higher than this rut
where all is always less than all,
You are unbound and unbroken,
Look up and never look back

i really love the headcanon that marinette can secretly sing okay

like it’s just got so many opportunities for cute moments??? 

  • she could be sitting on a rooftop ledge as ladybug during patrol and just start singing out of boredom, and chat is so surprised and entranced by his wonderful, beautiful lady who’s got the voice of a literal angel that he can’t help but stare with these big green eyes as he falls even deeper in love with her
  • or it could be during school, marinette is humming behind adrien and he happens to hear. after class he shyly tells her that he heard her singing and that he thinks she’s got the most beautiful voice ever
  • or even post-reveal, where adrien is playing the piano and marinette is singing along as the two make music together. his hands dance along the keys while she sits next to him and watches every movement of his fingers, her voice echoing off the walls of the mansion

i really,, really love the headcanon that marinette can secretly sing and i want it please. plea se

New Cassian Andor x Reader Fic Preview!

Here, away from K-2’s pessimism and the rusting confines of the ship, you were at least given the chance to find something to take your mind off matters. Now that you were sure Cassian’s contact wouldn’t be showing up, you had the opportunity to let your eyes wander to more interesting things; like the dance floor.

It was surprisingly un-crowded, for the amount of people in the cantina, but you suspected it was because the majority of the eyes in there were lecherous, and enjoying the free show. There were seven people total on the floor. Two pairs, and a trio. There was music in the background, muffled by the many voices echoing around, but still distinct enough to see how their movements matched the rhythm. The melody was made of full, low, provocative notes, with the occasional higher pitch thrown in for spice. It acted as a sort of pulse for the rest of the room.

The two couples were on opposite sides of the floor, each intertwined together, grinding, and twisting together to the beat.  The trio proudly took the center, and mirrored the movements of the others. They melted together, as their hands travelled freely, and without shame in time with each step. They were taunting the other pairs. Showing them that if two was a party, then three was certainly the best sort of crowd. And as they all danced, you realized that it was, perhaps, one of the most sensual things you’d ever witnessed. Beautiful, flowing bodies, letting themselves travel with a song they probably didn’t know, putting themselves on display, and not giving a fuck who watched. Everyone was clothed. Everyone was dancing, and nothing more.

“Have you never seen dancing before?” Cassian’s voice strangely didn’t come as a surprise to you. It was only a matter of time before he cut into your staring.

“I have. Maybe not like that, but I have,” you shrugged and turned towards him. And it was maybe the biggest mistake you’d ever made in your life.

Every feeling you suppressed. Every promise you ever made to yourself. Every resisted admission of affection began to pound dully at the back of your head. He looked so good, sitting there, with his disheveled hair and stubbled cheeks. His eyes were perpetually tired, but still held glints of danger and life. He was a captivating man, who you’d worked so hard to stay away from him, in that sense. You were a soldier, first and foremost, and so was he.

But then he asked the last question you ever thought he’d ask, and you realized your entire life was about to go downhill.

“Would you like to dance?”

This is gonna be some NSFW shit right here. 

Southwestern Gothic
  • They call them dark-sky cities. The stars are a brilliant canopy above the muted city lights, cars driving a bit more carefully in streets with shadows creeping around the corners. People shut their doors as the unseen shape moves slowly over the city, putting out the stars. The constellations flicker back as the shape passes, creeping out toward the scrub land.

  • The tunnels are just a legend. They might have been there once, dark arteries beneath the city surface, havens from the heat or passages for migrant workers, but they’ve been filled in, collapsed, blocked off. The small echoes of footsteps beneath you are your imagination. You definitely didn’t see movement between the cracks of the sidewalk.
  • The desert is wide, and you can see the shape of the earth from the high places. The mountains jut up from the city floor, the highway curving to avoid collision with those islands amid the suburban sea. The tall columns of overpasses are like monoliths as they swing above you, concrete and cement a modern-day marble to a modern-day Ozymandias. Prayers and supplications are in the currency of sirens and car horns, and the new gods accept their tithes in blood.

  • There are sunglasses in your car. At your work. In your bag. In your hand. Someday, the desert-dwellers will evolve small lenses in their eyes, leaving the world with a permanent filter for UV.

  • The clouds are rolling in now, the sky darkening with the promise of rain. The sky is gold, and then brown, and then red, but when the winds come the rain is only a lie. Thunder vibrates the power lines around your house and nothing pours from the sky but sand and small bits of paper.

  • Your grandmother tells you not to look into the eyes of a skin-walker, but you do not believe her. Their eyes are like an animal’s, she says, but the man at your door has human eyes. You meet his gaze, and they reflect yellow in the porch light. It’s said that eyes are windows to the soul, your grandmother said, but for yee naaldlooshi, they’re more like doors.

  • “At least it’s a dry heat.” The words come from cracked lips, in a weathered face, all moisture sucked from the skin in the slow dehydrator of summer. You hear the words echoing through the still air. Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and there is a film that tastes of dust and green chile. A dry heat. A dry heat. A dry heat.

    continued here.

The alt-right has a new code for its racism, anti-Semitism, sexism and homophobia

Months after the anti-Semitic (((echoes))) symbol made headlines, the modern white supremacist movement is still relying on coded language. Users who want to use slurs without being flagged by algorithms have developed a new system of slang. You probably use their hateful words for black and Jewish people every day.


Gustav Klimt                                              Egon Schiele
Hope II’                                                      ‘Gerti Schiele’
1907-08                                                      1909 

Here Schiele echoes his mentor’s style but with pared down decoration and movement toward a more natural portrait.


“Bowie dons a navy blue striped body suit and, crouched on the floor, doodles diagrams of Kabbalah’s Tree of Life, a series of 10 spiritual emanations. Lyrics from the title track "Station to Station” echo the language of Kabbalist symbols and beliefs. “Here are we, one magical movement from Keter to Malkuth,” Bowie sings, with Keter (the Crown) and Malkuth (the Kingdom) being the first and last virtues on the Tree of Life.“
-Steve Schapiro

Grumpy Old Man//Tate Langdon

(A/N): Tate interrupts reader during an embarrassing moment…

Warnings: none

Your hips swung to the fast beat as your arms moved around sporadically in the air. The loud music encouraged your spontaneous movements.  When your favourite line came, you belted it out into your imaginary microphone. You laughed as you continued your personal dance party, but what you didn’t realise was the pair of eyes observing you from the hallway.

“What is this shit?” Tate questioned, appearing at your doorway. As his raspy voice echoed across your room, your movements came to an immediate stop, but the music continued. He leaned against the wooden trim with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with much amusement in his eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?” you stammered, running a hand along your hairline. A heat cast upon your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat.

“Long enough,” Tate responded; a prominent smirk displayed across his lips. The simple expression made your stomach turn happily. He turned away from your flushed figure and strode towards your speaker dock where your IPod sat.

“How do you turn this damn thing off?” Tate mumbled, fumbling with the touch screen. Another song began which happened to be one of your ironic favourites. Tate groaned once again as he turned the volume up and back down. The sound of a screen shot blasted through the deafening speakers, causing him to jump. A giggle erupted from your throat, causing Tate to shoot a playfully glare.

“Here, like this,” you instructed, taking the device from his hands and demonstrating how to use it. The loud music ceased as you turned back to Tate with a victorious smile.

“I was just about to try that,” Tate mumbled with a pout. His chocolate eyes gazes towards the floor bashfully.

“I know you were,” you joked, giving him a peck on the cheek before returning to your bed. Tate began flipping through the bin of CDs adjacent to your bed.

“Tate, what are you doing?” you questioned, rolling onto your side with your hand propping up your head. His back was turned towards you as he continued sorting through the noisy packages.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. You huffed, rolling onto your back. The clanking of plastic against plastic filled the otherwise quiet room. You took gentle breaths, lulling yourself to a peaceful sleep.

“Here, listen to this,” Tate suddenly announced, throwing a CD case on your bed. “None of that new shit.”

“You are such an old man, Tate,” you joked, grabbing the disc from the bed. Inspecting the aging case, you found that it was Nirvana’s ‘In Utero’ album, which didn’t surprise you given Tate’s love for the band. You were about to make another comment, but Tate suddenly jumped onto your bed, causing you to nearly roll off the small space.

“Tate,” you shouted, trying to pull yourself up from the edge of the bed. Tate scooted closer to you, putting his hand on top of your struggling grip with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Not until you say that I’m the coolest,” he announced. Your fingers were slipping from the thin comforter, encouraging your defeat, but your stubborn attitude wouldn’t give up so easily. Your arm gave out, sending you and the CD case to the hard floor. A dull pain filled your back as the sound of Tate’s laughter rung through the room.  

You quickly stand up, rubbing a hand against your aching body. A frown graced your lips as you looked back towards Tate’s chuckling figure. You place a hand on his vibrating chest, pushing him to the other side of the bed. You quickly lay down, facing your back towards him much to his dismay.
The bed squeaked as Tate moved closer to your side. You remained motionless as You felt his gentle breaths ghost over your neck, causing goosebumps to rise.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Tate mumbles into your neck, trailing kisses up to your jawline. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck as his hair grazed your bare skin. You bit your lip to stop the smile that was threatening to show as his actions continued.

“Tate,” you groaned, being unable to contain your laughter any longer. “Are you asking to be kisses?”

“Well, not directly…” he murmured innocently, running his hand down your arm to wrap around your waist With a smile curling at your lips, you flipped over to face Tate. You put your hand on the back of his head, pulling him into you roughly. His lips chapped lips moved slowly against yours, savouring the kiss. His cold fingers lifted your shirt slightly, drawing shapes against your burning skin.

Running out of oxygen, you had to pull away from the loving kiss. You breathed heavily as you smiled gently towards your love. You snuggled into his embrace, wanting the moment to last forever.


Thanks for reading!

Flight or flight

Characters: Esper, Lusa, Masi
WC: 2136
Rating: T
AU: Esper has wings
Category: hurt/comfort
Notes: the title is a double pun ;3
written for @requiem-for-the-strongest​, who wanted some wing angst + Lusa & Masi complimenting wings! proofread and illustrated by @dezimaton​ ( ❤️ ❤️ )

Esper stares at the mirror.

The mirror stares right back.

His pale face, unruly hair, magenta eyes, scar on mirrored left cheek. Everything would be okay — maybe except the returning circles under his eyes — if not for the background.

The things twitch when he brings his attention to them, the absolute nuisances. Two masses of black, with purple peeking here and there and magenta staring straight at him, with leathery sounds echoing with each movement. Absolutely disgusting. Repulsive. Repugnant.

Keep reading


   High up on the mantle of a rathere serene sort of waterfall, the Warframe curls her deadly claws over the rocky ledge deep into the moss underfoot. Crouched and ready to launch, she is completely focused on a figure in the distance.

          It looks to be Corpus. Heavily armored, tall, armed.

   Valkyr’s hackles are raising with each moment she wasted, just aching to tear into them. The moment that She caught movement was the trigger, and with a echoing shriek, the Warframe covers the distance between them in mere seconds — Twisting like a vicious bullet through the air towards the Corpus soldier.

   She didn’t even bother to apprehend them. Valkyr’s claws simply sink into whatever she could grab, slamming all of her weight into their form ( finding it oddly without give — Was it not organic? ) and knocking them to the ground with ease.

        Just before she is about to unleash her fury, the Warframe suddenly hesitates.

        This is no Corpus.

Terrible Things (Part 1)

Imagine meeting Dean while working as a waitress in a small-town diner.

Author: hogwartsismyhometoo

Requested By: 13sjacobs

Song: Terrible Things by Mayday Parade

Word Count: 2,785

Dean turned off the TV and stretched his arms above his head, groaning. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, which had gone blurry from staring at the screen for so long, and glanced at the clock. It was almost one in the morning.

He climbed the stairs with heavy footfalls, dragging himself up the stairs with the little energy he had left. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in almost thirteen years. The house was quiet and still, causing every one of Dean’s movements to bounce and echo off the walls. Crickets chirped their soft melody off in the distance while the cicadas harmonized. The sounds were drowned out only by the occasional whir of a car driving by. Dean had gotten used to such suburban noises by now. He hardly noticed them anymore.

The rustle of blankets and long, low creak of box springs caused Dean to pause in the hallway. He used two fingers to push his son’s door open ever so slightly, leaning back to poke his head into the room.

The little boy—though Dean supposed he should stop thinking of Mason as “little” now that he was hitting puberty and shooting up like a weed—laid on his side, facing the window away from the door. This was a dead giveaway. Mason never slept on his side, and he never slept with his back to the door.

“Mason,” Dean whispered. “You awake?”

Keep reading

cut off my wings and come lock me up

Originally posted by starstunning8

just pull the plug yeah, I’ve had enough

Originally posted by uchiharaira

tear me to pieces, sell me for parts

Originally posted by dusenyapragakusenkiz

you’re all vampires so here, you can have my heart

Originally posted by zealotss

the world’s a funeral, a room of ghosts

Originally posted by enomototakane97

no hint of movement, no sign of pulse, only an echo just skin and bone

Originally posted by hatredandsorrow

they kick the chair but we, we help tie the rope

Originally posted by shukapoo

so come rain on my parade

Originally posted by cristianime

cause I want to feel it

Originally posted by naruto-uzumaki-generation

come shove me over the edge

Originally posted by peindevapath

cause my head is in overdrive

Originally posted by lovebenihime

I’m sorry but it’s too late and it’s not worth saving

Originally posted by cristianime

I think we’re doomed

Originally posted by shinobi-bonds

I think we’re doomed

Originally posted by shinobi-bonds

and now there’s no way back

Originally posted by uchiharaira

you must have made some kind of mistake

Originally posted by dattebayos

I asked asked for death but instead I’m awake

Originally posted by laetia

the devil told me “no room for cheats”

Originally posted by lndras

I thought I sold my soul, but he kept the receipt

Originally posted by shinonstail

so leave the light on, I’m coming home

Originally posted by kankurobot

it’s getting darker but I carry on

Originally posted by doodleonpaper

the sun don’t shine but it never did

Originally posted by lawlu

and when it rains it fucking pours

Originally posted by jrugs

but I think I like it

Originally posted by eternity-of-moon-and-sun

and you know that I’m in love with the mess

Originally posted by red-beet-soup

I think I like it

Originally posted by theakazawaa

I think we’re doomed