enemy to none

im pitching on the 30th and im ready to die, yet, i started watching haikyuu and managed to catch up not only with the anime but also the manga

i’ll never stop mourning seijou, but im excited to find out why is akaashi crushing so hard on bok  learn more about fukurodani’s backstory

I feel like I remember seeing some Clara and River fans being kind of annoyed about the line about the Master being the only person the Doctor’s known who is anything like him, and on the Clara side of things especially I understand but also, like

I think this is more a sentiment the Doctor has had for a long time, since he was a kid

the Master is like him in two ways: they’re a Time Lord, but they’re not like other Time Lords

that’s what makes the two of them so special and bespoke

it’s not one or the other, it’s both - Clara and River both go a long way to at least partially match him personality-wise, especially Clara, just as Romana might be a brilliant Time Lord with mostly decent but also questionable morals

but none of them are Time Lord and a reckless outcast like him, and that’s what is needed for the kind of core, deep understanding the two of them have with one another, and in that sense, none of the others could even come close

anonymous asked:

"So it was you"

Harry woke up suddenly, sitting up straight in his bed. His heart pounded, still reacting to his nightmare. He looked around and tried to make sense of his surroundings. The darkness stretched across the room, but he could make out figures, breathing slowly as they slept. Harry sighed with relief.

He was in his dorm room, in the eighth year tower. Not many students wanted to continue their studies after the war, so the school just made one large space for those who decided to come back. Harry was one of them. Hermione and Ron came back, too. All of the Gryffindors. Most of the Hufflepuff’s and Ravenclaws. Even a good amount of Slytherins. The most surprising of them being Draco. A lot of people thought he would be sent to Azkaban, but after the trails, he was charged not guilty and permitted back to Hogwarts. Many people wondered how he was let go so easily, but only a few knew why.

Harry had been there, vouching for Draco, telling them that he was forced into the situation. What he said to Dumbledore. Everything… All but one. No one knew about it, not even Ron or Hermione. They didn’t understand that Draco really did recognize Harry at the Manor that night. But Harry knew. He could see it in his eyes.

Harry sighed, quietly getting up so as not to wake any of his roommates. He looked at his invisibility cloak, shaking his head and slipping out the door without it. He had a habit of waking up from nightmares, but it was especially frequent after the war. On nights like these he found his way up to the astronomy tower and stared at the sky, often waiting until he could see shades of pink break past the dark horizon. He was never interrupted there. He could think in peace.

He didn’t bother putting on shoes. He liked the way the cold felt against his feet. It grounded him.

He turned a corner, finding himself at the foot of the towers stairs, when he froze. A dark figure glided towards him, walking into the light of a torch.

“Malfoy.” Harry breathed. “… You startled me.”

“So even the chosen one gets scared?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but there was no venom to his voice. In fact, he sounded tired.

“Guess so…” Harry didn’t bother fighting back. He was still distracted by Draco’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you-” Malfoy stopped his usual retort. He narrowed his eyes at Harry, as if contemplating something. Then he let out an exasperated breath. “I’m going to the Astronomy tower.”

Harry blinked. “Oh…” His heart fell, his night plans going sour. He turned away from the stairs, “Have fun then.”

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy said quickly.

“Er…” Harry nodded towards the stairs awkwardly.

Draco stared at him for a moment before putting his nose in the air, “Well, no ones stopping you,” and glided up the steps. Harry glanced around, wondering what his next move should be, before his legs automatically brought him in stride with Malfoy.

They found their way to the top, settling down on a bench. Harry didn’t bother questioning why they sat at the same one. The company was oddly… refreshing.

They sighed in unison, staring out to the horizon. The night was bright with an almost full moon. Stars flitted in and out of sight, twinkling among a few clouds barely visible against the dark sky.

It seemed long, but Harry knew it could have only been several minutes. He was itching with a question, one he’d been holding to himself, never dreaming he’d be able to ask. After a few excruciating moments, Harry broke.

“Why did you let me go that day?” He blurted out.

Draco barely flinched. “What do you mean?”

“At the manor.”

Draco glanced at him boredly. “I used to live there, Potter. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” A flare of frustration shot through his chest. “When they captured me. Greyback. You told them you didn’t know whether it was me or not.”

Harry paused. Waiting for an answer.

Draco looked straight ahead of him, expressionless. “So it was you.”

“But you knew that already.” Harry said angrily. He wasn’t making any sense.

“Potter, I don’t understand why we’re talking about this. The war is over.” He rubbed his eyes and Harry almost felt bad.

“Not for me.” He pushed.

“Well, it is for me.”

“Then why can’t you sleep?”


“I like the stars.”

Harry huffed, leaning back against the bench. He ran a hand through his hair. He knew, of course, that Draco wouldn’t talk to him. But he had to try. He looked back up to the horizon. It looked different now. His irritation changing the serenity of the scene. He turned again towards Malfoy, just enough to look at him without seeming obvious. The moon made his platinum hair glow and his grey eyes shine. If it wasn’t for his somber expression, he would have looked untouchable. Almost ethereal.

“Why didn’t you tell them…” Harry jumped at Draco’s sudden words. “At the trails. That I hadn’t given you away.”

“I thought you didn’t know it was me.”

“Potter.” Draco pleaded. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow in a pained expression.

“… I guess, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t my imagination. That you really had protected me.”

“You seemed pretty sure it wasn’t your imagination a moment ago.” Malfoy turned to lock eyes with Harry. They were dark and intense, challenging him to be as honest as he wanted Draco to be.

“I guess…” Harry took a deep breath, looking away from him. “I guess I didn’t want to share that moment. With anyone.”

Draco said nothing, so Harry continued. “It was the moment I realized you were never the enemy. The moment I realized none of this was your fault. That it was mine.”

There was more silence before, “You complete prat, Harry Potter.”

Harry snapped his head back to Malfoy, startled by the use of his full name, then startled again to see grey, watery eyes.


“Your fault? How?”


“I was the one who brought in Fenrir to the school, I was the one who fixed that bloody cabinet, I was the one who got Dumbledore killed! I helped the Dark Lord, I even got this damned mark to prove it!” Draco was on his feet now, face red with anger, as he wrenched his pajama sleeve up to reveal his dark mark. He laughed maniacally, as if the world had finally broken in half on top of him. “I even gloated! As if I was the most important shit in this place. And you, you get me out of Azkaban, after saving the entire fucking wizarding world, and you have the gall to tell me it’s all your fault? You don’t know shit about fault, Potter. Don’t you dare try to take that achievement from me, too.”

Harry’s eyes were wide with astonishment. Draco breathed heavily, face splotchy and pink. He seemed embarrassed, but held his gaze nonetheless.

They stared at each other, unsure of what to do next, when suddenly Harry snorted.

Then Malfoy laughed. It was short, just coming up from the back of his throat.

Then they were both laughing. Quietly at first, before building up to loud, obnoxious guffaws. Draco slipped back in his seat, holding onto the bench to keep himself steady. Harry was doubled over, taking large breathes in between it all.

“Wh-Why are you -ha!- laughing?” Draco managed.

“I-I don’t -pfft- know! Why a-are you?”

Draco shrugged, although it looked odd with his shoulders already shaking, “I’m an utter lunatic?”

That only made them laugh more, eventually gripping onto each other with the intensity of it all. It died down eventually. They took in shallow breaths, trying to keep themselves from smiling. Small chuckles escaped once or twice.

Harry looked up once he was calm enough, finding one hand placed on Draco’s thigh and the other underneath his fingers, their hands resting at the top of the benches back. Their bodies faced each other, calves folded beneath them.

Draco looked up as well, a small smile still on his lips. Harry glanced to them, watching his mouth curve back down to a slight frown.

“Draco.” Harry glanced back to his eyes. He looked surprised as the use of his first name. “Tell me… Please.”

A flash of fear went across his face, making him look away. He settled for looking at their intertwined fingers.

“Why is it so important to you?” He whispered.

Harry thought for a moment, a slow blush creeping up his own neck as he realized the real reason he wanted to know.

“Because I’m hoping it meant what I want it to mean.” He said before he could stop himself.

Draco froze, keeping his eyes glued to their hands. “… What did you want it to mean?”

“You tell me,” Harry breathed, inching his face closer to Draco’s. Enough so that if he were to turn, just a bit…

Draco remained still.

“Why didn’t you tell them it was me, Draco.” Harry could see him shiver at his own name.

“Because… Because I-” But he never finished, instead turning and catching Harry’s lips into his own. Harry reacted late, Draco already shifting so that he could tilt his head back, forcing Harry’s mouth open. Harry suddenly moved, letting go of his hand in order to wrap his arms around Draco’s torso. He moaned. Or did Draco moan? It wasn’t clear, all they could do was try to be as close to each other as possible.

Harry moved his mouth with Draco’s, his tongue sliding along the others. He felt along the hem of his pajamas, slipping his fingers against Draco’s cool skin.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, Harry was being pushed back. He caught himself before he could fully fall off his seat, blinking rapidly towards Malfoy-who was currently wide eyed and flushed. His lips were already swollen and slick with saliva. He quickly wiped his mouth, shaking while he did so.

“Draco-?” Harry started, but Malfoy abruptly stood up.

“It’s Malfoy to you, Potter.” He snapped, trying to straighten his shirt.


“D-don’t you dare try that again. I-I’ll-” He couldn’t finish, somehow getting redder and redder by the minute.

“You’re the one who-!”

“Well, you obviously seduced me! Sure you’re not a Slytherin? Because that was some sly manipulation if I’ve ever seen any.” Draco huffed, crossing his arms.

Harry could only laugh, but that made Draco turn on his heel and storm out.

“Wait!” Harry called to him. He merely stopped, turning his head ever so slightly. “Same time tomorrow night?”

There was a pause and a twitch on the corner of his mouth, looking suspiciously like a smile, before Draco continued down the stairs.

Harry let a long breath out. He couldn’t help but grin, before a thought dawned on him.

He never did get his answer.

Stop getting mad at Rick. Just because he didn’t make one of his own characters something that you wanted, you’re going to throw a temper tantrum? What are you all, 5 years old? Grow up and realize he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his characters and honestly, I feel bad that he had to justify himself on a character he made with love and thought and devotion. You’re all happy with how he’s so progressive and making so many characters POC or LGBT, but the minute he tries to make Reyna being straight canon, and tries to justify it, he goes from being good old Uncle Rick to some sort of enemy. Without him, none of these characters would exist. So stop being selfish and deal with how he wants his characters to be. He never confirmed she was a lesbian in any of the other books, you all just assumed and hoped she would be. Realize things don’t always go your way.

It had been going on for a while. Rival papers, rival journalists. Clarke would get the tip, Lexa would arrive first at the scene – or vice versa. She rather liked it when it was her getting the story first, but her victories were just as frequent as Lexa’s.

There had to be a traitor in her office – there was one in Lexa’s after all, with Niylah feeding Clarke scoop after scoop just as soon as Lexa got word of them. Was Lexa flirting with one of her co-workers too? The thought was… oddly unpleasant.

Of course, there were the times when their rivalry, known (and barely put up with) by all, took a slight… detour and things between them would heat up in a very different way than usual.

Even though she would never admit it to anyone, those were the times Clarke revelled the most. Those were the times that made losing a few first hand stories almost worth it. Lexa didn’t need to know that, though.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

The voice, softer than her own, pulled the corners of Clarke’s lips up into a smile. She lay her chin on the chest underneath her, blue eyes playfully meeting green ones.

“Thank God none of our friends know about this,” she admitted, placing a soft kiss between Lexa’s breasts. “Raven and Octavia would tease me endlessly.”

To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa didn’t smirk; she frowned. “You haven’t told your friends about us?”

Clarke laughed and got off of Lexa, opting to lie down beside her. “What, like you have?” The deepening crease between those striking jade eyes was answer enough and she didn’t know how to react. “There is no us, Lexa.”

Suddenly Lexa was up, throwing covers off her lithe body and searching for her clothes among the jungle of Clarke’s bedroom floor. Clarke, in turn, was utterly confused, taken aback by Lexa’s sullen behaviour.

“Where are you going?”

“What does it look like, Clarke?” Lexa snapped as she pulled pants up to her waist. “I’m going home.”

“Why? We were just relaxing, I don't– what the hell is wrong with you?”

Lexa finished buttoning her shirt and heaved an exasperated sigh, turning to Clarke with a cold gaze.

“I get it, Clarke. We are rivals, we steal each other’s stories, and then we fuck to keep the adrenaline pumping.” Lexa’s voice was as gelid and stoic as her eyes. “It’s just curious that you still see it as that when we have been staying the night for over three months.”

Feeling exposed all of a sudden, Clarke sat up and pulled the blankets up to cover her chest. “We agreed that it was easier if you caught the morning train to your place,” she said defensively.

“I’ve got a drawer in your wardrobe, Clarke!”

“Not my fault you leave your clothes here all the time,” the blonde shrugged.

Lexa’s eye roll was worthy of some Olympic back flip medal or something. Were there Olympic medals for back flips? Clarke didn’t really know a lot about sports.

“You call me aloof and emotionally constipated, but I am not the one who keeps believing those easy ways out after three months of mornings after,” Lexa claimed, a hue of hurt in the rainbow of feelings in her voice.

Clarke was at a loss for words, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “We fuck. What’s the big deal about that?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, for Lexa just turned away with a huff and walked out, making sure to slam the door as she left.


They hadn’t talked for a month. Lexa had been keeping her distance: not coming any close to her stories, leaving Clarke alone to make the most of her own scoops. It would have been paradise, if not for the gaping absence of teasing remarks, insufferable smirks – any words at all. Clarke kept trying to steal some scoops for herself, but Lexa was relentless, never letting Clarke win.

In a fell swoop, Clarke had lost her fuck buddy and her rival. Every time she got to a place, Lexa would either be long gone or never show up at all. Journalism just wasn’t as fun anymore.

Clarke had loved the whole enemies/lovers dynamic, sleeping with none other than your greatest rival. After every hustle, they would fall into bed together, releasing their frustration and satiating their rivalry in each other’s arms, mouths, fingers. It was something Clarke had never experienced before.

Clarke was snatched out of her thoughts by a binder falling violently on her desk. She looked up to find Octavia glaring at her.

“What now, O?” Clarke asked impatiently. “Too much paperwork for your lazy ass?”

“Wow, Lexa really left your panties in a twist,” her brunette friend chuckled dryly. “Can you two please go back to fucking?”

Clark’s bewildered gasp and choke would have been funny if not for the situation they were in. “You know? she choked out in a spluttering mess.

“Of course I do,” Octavia frowned. “We all know Lexa lets you get half of her stories and then you two go home and fuck each other’s brains out. Or, well, did. Now you two just mope around like you lost your favourite candy.”

The knowledge that Lexa was doing just as bad as her gave Clarke an odd hopeful feeling. “She’s moping?”

“Of course she is. How would you expect her to react to a break up?”

“This was not– We weren’t even together.”

This time, Octavia laughed heartily, taking more than a minute to gather her bearings and turn to Clarke with a mocking expression.

“Sweetie, like or not, you two were dating for the past three months. You don’t do the morning after with someone you don’t care about.”

There it was again, the morning after. Clarke didn’t understand what relevance it had to the case. “I still don’t know why the morning after seems to be so important,” she grumbled.

Octavia just shook her head in disbelief. “You may be blonde, but you’re not blonde, Clarke. Don’t lie to yourself just because you’re afraid to face the truth.”


Clarke was determined to get this right. This story was Lexa’s, Niylah had promised, and she was going to get there fast enough to catch the brunette before she could leave.

She would also steal the story, but that was another story. Pun fully intended, Clarke decided in that moment.

When Lexa showed up, she was the image of beauty. Long brown curls tamed in a ponytail, her face was clean and open and probably what heaven looked like. Emerald eyes didn’t hide their owner’s shock to see her.

“Clarke,” Lexa half breathed, half gasped, eyes wide and lips parted.

Clarke had to remember the speech she had practiced at home, in front of her mirror, like a romantic loser.

“Lexa, I– Can we talk?”

Lexa eyed her suspiciously, but eventually agreed, with a discreet nod of her head. They headed to another room, making the interviewee wait for its five minutes in the limelight.

“What do you want, Clarke?” The hostility of Lexa’s tone made her flinch. She had a lot of explaining to do. “I will not go back to the way we were before.”

“I know, I know,” Clarke rushed to say, promising her memories of Lexa writhing under her that she would give them full her attention once she got home. “I don’t want that either.” At Lexa’s frown, she ploughed on. “I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, because I want so much more. I thought what we had was just an easy rivals with benefits situation. We would do the rivalling during the day, fuck during the night. You kept clothes at my place so no one would ever see you leave with the clothes of the day before on. In the middle of all the lying I did to keep myself from panicking, I forgot to realise that you started staying the night because I asked you to. And it went on for three months because I wanted you to. And I would ask and want you to stay the night because I needed to fall asleep and wake up next to you, because there is no greater feeling in the world than that of spending every hour of your day with the person you love.”

Lexa’s eyes were wide like saucers, but Clarke couldn’t stop now.

“That’s the other thing I forgot,” she admitted, her voice small. “I forgot that slowly but surely, I was falling in love with you.”

Lexa pressed her lips together pensively, letting the silence stretch before she broke it. “Why didn’t you tell your friends?”

“The same reason for all my other fuck ups: I was afraid. Telling them would mean they would be able to give me the advice I was dreading: that all those mornings after did hold meaning after all and that I couldn’t hide from my feelings anymore.”

Lexa nodded this time, still not making a sound. “Will you tell your friends now?”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. “Already have.”

Another nod. “Are we still rivals?”

“You’re as much my enemy as when we started this whole thing.”

Lexa was sporting a small smile now, a crooked little thing that Clarke had always found adorable. “I would not have it any other way.”

“But Lexa, now you’re also my best friend and… If you give me the honour… My girlfriend.”

Lexa’s shy smile turned into a smirk. “Only if you admit that Polis is the superior newspaper.”

Clarke didn’t even gasp. “For you, I would quit the Arkadia.”

Lexa’s amused smile, however, showed she was just kidding. “No need. Wouldn’t want to end the rivalry, would we?”

In that moment – and the moment after, when she finally got to get reacquainted with Lexa’s lips –, Clarke knew that she wanted all the mornings after and the nights during and the afternoons before.

She wanted everything with Lexa.

That feeling when...

…you’re tidying up some paperwork and you stumble across a novel proposal that you had completely forgotten about, including outlining, notes, and detailed timelining for the six main characters…

(here’s the text if the image is unreadable for you:)

LIGHTNING IN THE CUP tells the story of the deadly culmination of a three-hundred year war between two mighty nations, and the end of the world…all caused for the amusement of an angry god and goddess.

The world is in its Renaissance:  art, literature and magic are flowering as never since the great Triple Empire was destroyed in mysterious catastrophe, three thousand years before.  Poised at either side of the great continent which surrounds the Central Sea are the nations VOROSHEN and MIROKH, provinces of the old Empire, now finally grown into their pre-eminence as rulers of the known world.  Their ancient rivalry—Voroshen is the more populous nation, Mirokh the greater naval power, controlling the Sea—has been flowering, too. For the better part of the last millennium, they have practiced war against one another as another kind of artform, a violent and lucrative one, using the armies and territories of their various client nations as their battleground.  

Now this graceful, amused, habitual aggression is growing into something more deadly.  Each country has begun to feel it has the right to be the most powerful in the world. The old mindset, which would have seen life as not worth living without the existence of the essential, noble enemy, is passing away.  The new rulers coming to power—a less poetic, more opportunistic lot—believe that it would be better if there was only one “greatest country”.  And the only way to manage that, each side now feels, is by wholesale destruction of the other….

 People on both sides—powerful lords, wizards, politicians—are beginning to realize that the means may be within their grasp.  Mastery of the theory and technology of magic is growing by leaps and bounds, fostered by the patronage of Voroshent and Mirokhel lords for great theoretical sorcerers like ARDAN and ELIEGRI.  Things which would have seemed great wonders even a hundred years ago—cloudcastles, soaring-ships,  scorchfire—have become commonplace:  magic has been turned to the service of man in peace and war, and makes the exchequers of both countries fat by its taxation and control.  Riches and prosperity are more widespread than ever: on the surface, at least, because of magic, peace reigns in both the Great Lands.  

But each nation secretly is looking to magic for the answer to the question of how to get rid of its great rival…and one of them is on the brink of finding it.  Mirokh’s genius-mage ARDAN has learned of the existence of a sorcerous relic so potent that, properly altered and manipulated, it could cause the earth to open and swallow a whole country down to ruin.  Eagerly, Mirokh’s lords send an expedition into the Debatable Lands to find this thing and bring it home, for their glory and the final destruction of their enemies.

What none of the Mirokhel suspect is why this relic has now been found.  

…And then things get interesting.

Note to self: import into Scrivener. Add to ToDoIst project list. Schedule for more research after completion of YW#11 draft. Possible scheduling: spring/summer 2018.

(sigh) Just what I needed before I’d even had my tea. Another novel.

the lucky ones | rating: T | 10,382 words

“On average, most people consider themselves lucky to have one or two soul marks on their body. Usually one for their romantic soul mate, one for friendship or family. Sometimes, people found themselves with one for an enemy or, even, a pet. None were guaranteed. To have any was lucky.

Clarke Griffin had four.”


Clarke finds out Bellamy has a matching soul mark to her own and she assumes they’re enemies. 

a/n: this is for @empireofpainandfeels who won third place in my fanfic giveaway! this was actually supposed to be 1/3rd of the length but this idea got away from me… oops? HUGE THANKS to @fen-ha-fuck-you who, as always, is a godsend who saved my life by beta-ing this. 

Flashing sprites with a shader in GameMaker!

Alright, so combat is moving along, and I’ve also been working hard on creating SNES instruments! Yesterday I did a bunch of work creating a new room, drawing enemies, and so forth, but none of that is ready to show. So here’s another snippet of code. This time it’ll be how to use a shader to make a sprite flash!

ALSO THIS TIME I can show you what it looks like in practice. I have an old combat GIF. :)

So it’s just for a split second on hit, the enemy turns white (well, in this case, a super light shade of red). This is one method to sell the impact of the hit.

It’s pretty simple to do too!

All you need is a shader, and then you can set it in the draw step of whatever you’d like to flash. The enemy parent object, if you remember, sets “isHit = true” when it gets damaged, and then an alarm will count down 1/10th of a second and set “isHit = false”. While isHit is true, the object is drawn with the shader.

Note line 11 of the fragment shader (shd_white.fsh). That vec3 is where you can choose the color. The first parameter is red, the second parameter is green, and the third parameter is blue. So here we’ve got 100% red, 90% green, and 90% blue, making a red that looks almost white.

EDIT: A quick note. Shaders are magical and incomprehensible to me, so you don’t need any of the “uniform”s (lines 3-6 of the fragment shader). We aren’t using them in this shader.

Finally, credit where credit is due. I understand very little about shaders. This reddit comment by /u/GalacticBlimp is where I learned how to do this.

That’s it! Go! Create shaders and multiply!

Character’s Bonniebird Isn’t allowed to look after should they ever magically become real

My Friend keeps a list and it has reasons xD thought i’d share.

1. Jerome Valeska:

Me: Isn’t he cute, little blood covered pumkin.

Friend: He just killed like all of Gotham’s cops

Me: But he’s so happy, that cuties going to sleep so well

Friend: No, that is… no.

2. Klaus Mikaelson:

Friend: Its is not ok to keep uncontrollable hybrids in captivity when you A. can’t control them and B plan to feed them on a diet of your enemies (Of which you have none)

3. Saphira the Dragon:

Friend: You cannot keep a dragon in your house, It will burn.

Me: I’ll live outside with it.

Friend: no internet, no electricity, cold, no plumbing and I can’t have a unicorn so you can’t have a dragon

4. Captain Kirk:

Friend: He’s mine you can’t have him.

Me: But…

Friend: Mine!

5. Theo Raeken

Me: He is soooo cute!

Friend: Didn’t he kill all the people you like?

Me: no he just tried to.

Friend: If he comes to life surly they would to and they’d be in danger, also he sound evil

6. Void Stiles

Friend: No

Me: But

Friend: No!

Me: Fine

7. Demon Dean

Friend: Would you let him kill who he wants because he’s hot?

Me: Um… I guess i’d try and avoid it?

Friend: Then no you can maybe have normal Dean… as long as he clean out my ghosts for free

Me: Ghosts?

8. Alex Russo

Friend: You’d get in to much trouble and she wouldn’t help you out of it.

Me: You might actually be right on that one.

Friend: excuse me your blond vampire wolf guy would eat you before you explained your plan.

Me: No he wouldn’t he’d just trick me into working for him

Travelin’ Soldier Part 5

Summary: Reader is currently deployed in the army to an undisclosed combat area. She has been deployed for nearly two years. Anxiously awaiting her return is her husband and brother as they film for Supernatural. Letter comes informing the family that she may not be heard from for awhile and soon devastating news comes. In italic bold in the story is lyrics.

Characters: husband!Jensen x reader, Jared x Reader (twins), Gen, Shepherd, Thomas, Baby Padalecki, and Misha

Words: 2550

Disclaimer: I do not own the title of the song Travelin’ Soldier by the Dixie Chicks at all even with the minor change of lyrics to fit the story. I simply thought it could be a little fighting. Not hate towards Danneel either, as this is simply fiction and not real. I do not own any songs in this either.

Warnings: possible swearing, war, mention of death, mention of torture, a lot of angst as usual, and fluff

Author: Caitsy

Tagging a few at the end. Send an ask to be tagged, or request something.

A/N:  Once more Ash and I want to thank you for supporting us. Also I was going to write this on Friday night but I was involved in a minor car accident so by the time I got home I was exhausted.

Master List

Prompt List


The box sat in the drawer most of the time awaiting for the time it would come out. It was huge decision that in his opinion was more heavier than asking someone not in her career. He lost count of how long the box was there but he knew it would be empty soon. He loved her, that’s for sure but it’s a huge commitment to ask someone who’s life is always at risk. She would find it if it was in their apartment so he kept it in his trailer in Canada. He held it in his hand playing with the box.

“Hey Jensen! They need you!” Jared exclaimed opening the door to his trailer. Jensen shoved the box back into the back of the drawer as a shocked Jared stood there, “Is that what I think it was?”

“Pfft no.” Jensen waved the question off, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Well that diamond must be something.” Jared raised one eyebrow. He crossed his arms leaning against the wall beside the open door. The cool breeze came into the trailer.

“Shut up.” Jensen muttered, “I haven’t asked your dad for his blessing.”

“Wow. You do know he’s been nervously waiting for when you’ll propose?” Jared asked, “My parents love you J. I swear they love you more than they love me!”

“Not possible.” Jensen mumbled picking at a loose thread on his character’s plaid shirt.

“I’m serious. You’re the first of my sister’s boyfriends that gained the entire trust of my family.” Jared sighed, “Since she first got news of deployment her boyfriend dumped her fast. They were dating for six months I think and he wouldn’t accept that she was more willingly to get her hands dirty than him.”

“I never knew that.”

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So okay, this is the other, angry version of Percy having a post-episode 100 breakdown. And this one comes with a very important preface - not everything Percy says is right. He says some shit that he has strong opinions about but he is not necessarily correct. He is mad about some things he is not necessarily justified in being angry about. Anger isn’t always logical or reasonable. Do not get on my ass about this. I know. 

“I’m going outside,” Percy says in a flat tone of voice that brooks no argument.

Everyone looks up at him with varying degrees of concern but if Percy spends one more minute in this monument to bad memories, he’s going to start screaming, so he bypasses all of them and heads down the tunnels.

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Isaac Lahey | Little Vamp

Count of words: 574

Warnings: none really, maybe a little sad.

A/N: So I don’t know if you ment anchor for her humanity or bloodlust so I went with bloodlust. I hope you like it. Also I thought it was longer while writing this but ok.

Requested?: Yes 

Anonymous asked:

can you please do a cute Isaac lahey imagine where the reader is turning into a vampire and he’s her anchor xoxo

Author: Katerina ( @littlealphawolf )

requests here

The past couple of weeks have been tough. Exams were all over the place and the pack was facing a new unknown enemy.  None of us knew what it was but we were trying to figure out. Some though they could be werewolves but stronger, others thought they could be vampires but if they were that we didn’t really know what to do.

It was finally the last period. Coach was grumpy once again, yelling and once in a while his voice would wake me up. The bell rung signaling for us to get the hell out of the school and we happily obeyed.

The walk home was silent. Isaac was not with me today. He said Scott wanted him over to the animal clinic for some help. So I was walking alone. The silence was ringing through my ears like music until suddenly someone grabbed me and after that everything was black.

I woke up after obviously several hours on my bed, Isaac peacefully asleep on my side. Tears were gracing his face making his eyelashes appear bigger and his face sweeter making me worried. “I-Isaac?” my voice came out more hoarse than expected. “Y-Y/N? Bu-but yo-you didn’t ha-have heartbeat!?!?!?” He said surprised looking at me with wide eyes.  “What are you talking about Isaac??” I said looking at him confused. “I cannot hear a heartbeat Y/N. They gave me time to say goodbye.” He said tearing up. “You are not alive. I’m imagining this.” He said looking down never removing his hand from mine. “No baby, no. I’m here. Hush. I’m alive. Well no technically I’m dead but I still breath. ” I said chuckling in an attempt to make him calm down. “Stop! It’s not time to joke Y/N!” Isaac said giggling slightly through his tears. “But, no, I think it is darling.” I said kissing his forehead.

Days went by, questions were asked, my urge for blood grew day by day never knowing how to stop it. Until today. I was locked in the basement trying to stop my urge to kill someone just to fulfill my hunger. But Isaac had other plans. Even though Derek agreed to lock me in there Isaac was fighting him to let him in. And unfortunately he did. “Isaac, what are you doing? Leave!” I commanded but Isaac kept coming closer to me. “No, baby, I won’t.” “I could hurt you!” I screamed but he never stopped. “You could but you won’t, now will you baby?!” He said finally in front of me. My gaze was locked on the ground still trying to contain my hunger. “Y/N look at me!” He said softly. “Look at me!” he yelled making my eyes shot up and meet with his gorgeous ones. “Remember what you told me when you were helping me contain my urge to kill? When I was telling you to leave me alone cause I knew I would hurt you? You won’t hurt me. And you know what, even if you do it’d be my pleasure.” He said kissing my forehead and my expression softened. “I will be here and help you out with this, ok?” He said and I just nodded my head yes. “You owe me ten dollars Stilinski.” Derek yelled at Stiles. “What for?” I asked laughing. “I told him Isaac is your anchor. He said no… So, I won!” He said that with a straight face and I just laughed.

“We say that a society and a people are in good shape when: 1) they remain aware of their cultural and historical origins; 2) they can gather around a mediator—individual or symbolic—capable of gathering energies and catalyzing the will to destiny; 3) they retain the courage to designate their enemy. None of these conditions are realized in the present liberal market society, which: 1) dissolves memories; 2) extinguishes the sublime and crushes the passions; 3) does not want to have an enemy and  believes that it is indeed possible to chose not to have one.”
— Alain de Benoist, 1982

Child Reiner reminds me so much to child Eren. Both was “not as good” as the others while training, but both had something to fight for, a reason why they was joining that path. Reiner wanted to be a hero for his family and reunite his mom and dad, and Eren wanted to kill all the titans mostly because one ate his mom.

Who’s the enemy? WHO is the real enemy? Who’s the villain here? None of them, for sure. In my opinion, is the people of Marley lol

Originally posted by kuronekoyk

anonymous asked:

literally merlin's life goal was shortened from "protect arthur so he can become king and restore magic to the land" to "protect arthur". I mean, arthur did become king but arthur outright asks merlin if he should legalise magic and merlin says no because arthur MIGHT die like ??? I love him but why is he like this

no, exactly! like, that’s the point. somewhere along the line, it was no longer about destiny and the grand plan and peace in the realm and equality for magic users. it was no longer about merlin living free and being accepted. it was about arthur. and you can argue that, yes, that’s where merlin went wrong. he saw enemies where there were none. he created villains through his suspicion. he abandoned morgana and made mordred feel hated. he left aithusa to suffer. he did nothing to help the druids, who worshipped and trusted him and waited for him, their messiah, for centuries. he really did forsake all he was supposed to do with his life - for arthur.

merlin really did lose so much of himself over the course of the show. he came to camelot this bright-eyed child with steadfast morals, and turned into something else. someone who only saw things as black and white. he made himself judge, jury, and executioner. he made his own rules - always thinking it was for “the greater good” of destiny. but, instead, created the path he was lead down. because he thought he knew better than everyone else, and it really didn’t work out so well in the end.

honestly, for all the plans destiny had for merlin, i really don’t think any of the powers that be saw him coming. and they definitely didn’t anticipate how much he’d loved arthur.

anonymous asked:

So what do you think about Zeke saying war is a bad thing? Why does he keep fighting and turn people into titans if he thinks that way?

I’ve been mulling over this ask since a couple days ago and my answer is a needlessly wordy one – because I have to spew out all my thoughts to actually make a conclusion of some kind. Which is probably why I didn’t even attempt to put my opinion on the matter in my chapter write-up. 

I think a lot of things about Zeke’s line. 

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