every now and then i'm just overcome with a wave of love for these two

Southern hospitality 1/1

******POTENTIAL TRIGGERS******* 

I’ve never done anything like this, certainly nothing as dark as this and never ever attempted a historical AU.  Thanks to @inkcollectorus @scully-loves-ruthie and @baronessblixen for the encouragement because I was terrified to post it.

This is written in response to the @txf-prompt-box challenge. @today-in-fic

An American Civil war AU 


They advance quietly, bodies weary and bloodied from a battle lost that should never have been fought.  These men in their prime fighting for a cause that has somehow become blurred and confused amidst the stench of death that seems to now be imbued permanently in the very air that they breathe.  

A bloodbath of such magnitude each of the small group wondered if the fortunate ones were actually those who had fallen to the dusty earth, a final howl of anguish as frail bodies - flesh and bone- were torn and ripped and lifeforce was stolen in the blink of an eye as though it had never been.  Those hundreds of bodies who would never again be required to stare the devil in his face and be found wanting.  Fathers, sons, brothers of years past who now would be mourned by loved ones who waited for news behind closed doors amidst an ever-waning hope that things would ever be the same as they had been before.

Before.

He can barely remember.  Can barely recognise the young man in the crisp navy serge who marched so proudly alongside his comrades, waving confidently amid promises that he would be home for Christmas; that this war was as good as won.

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Fire and Ashes: a ficlet for ask-tiny!cas

This fic takes place before this post. I felt inspired by what Jenna had said in her tags and had to run with it. Hope you enjoy! Follow ask-tinycas if you don’t already.

Ashes rained down like leaves as twisting fingers of flame clawed upwards. Part of the ceiling collapsed, a great boom rising above the noise of the fire. Dean threw an arm up to shield himself, but the heat still burned his face as the fingers of flame reached for him.

“Cas!” he cried out, his voice hoarse and lost in the sound of another part of the room falling. He coughed, choking on the smoke that was filling his lungs. “Cas!”

The flames were dancing higher, and he knew he only had a few precious moments. His mind began to shut down. All reasoning was cast aside and was replaced with an animalistic drive. He had to save Cas. He had to save Cas. Save Cas. Save Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas. The name beat like a drum in his head and fell in rhythm with his beating heart. Cas. Cas. Cas.

He sprang into the flames.

As soon as he did, the flames began to take shape. They twisted and contorted themselves into wicked faces. They bared their pointed teeth at him and laughed. Arms of flames shot forward and grabbed onto his body, holding him in place. He struggled against their grip, but he could not move. Suddenly, the flames in front of him parted, revealing a small, crumpled form in front of him on the ground. It was charred and half buried in ashes. Its raven wings were singed and tattered, and one was bent at an unnatural angle.

Dean’s heart stopped.

Cas.

He let out a roar and tore himself from the clutches of the flames. He fell to his knees in front of his fallen angel and gently scooped him into his hands. The angel was so frail and fragile that he was afraid that even the smallest touch would shatter him like glass. His fingers ghosted over Cas’s wings and his hair.

“Cas?” he whispered, his voice as gentle as his touch. “Cas, buddy, are you alright? Come on, man, give me a sign. Don’t do this to me.”

Slowly, the angel lifted his head. Blood and ashes caked his face, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He did not say anything, but only stared vacantly at Dean. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he lowered his head again. Slowly, his body began to turn into ashes, starting from his wings and eventually spreading to the rest of his body. Dean tried to clutch onto Cas as he slowly disappeared, but no matter how much he tried, he could not save his angel. The ashes fluttered upwards and into the flames until there was nothing left in his hands.

“No…” Dean whispered, staring at his empty hands. “No! Cas!” He whipped around and faced the flames behind him. “Cas! Come back! Cas!”

He lunged forward, but another hand of flame lashed forward and grabbed his right wrist. Another reached out and wrapped itself around his left wrist. Two more shot forward and grabbed his ankles. Dean struggled against his restraints, gnashing his teeth and shouting senseless profanity at his captors. As he struggled, the flames in front of him began to shift again. This time, they formed a person. As the person walked towards him, it began to take on sharper detail. It came to halt directly in front of Dean in its true form: Cas.

“You did this, Dean,” The flame-Cas hissed, embers falling out of its mouth as it spoke. “You failed.”

“No…I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Dean cried, fighting against his restraints again. The heat from the flame-Cas burned his face, and he tried to turn away. “I didn’t want this to happen. I am so sorry, Cas. I…”

“You what, Dean? You wanted to protect me? Wanted to save me from the fate of every person who gets too close to you?” Flame-Cas sneered and shook its head. “No, Dean Winchester. This is what happens to everyone you love, isn’t it? They become flames, ashes.”

“Please, don’t…”

“You didn’t deserve to be saved.”

Dean’s blood felt like it had become ice. “Cas…”

Flame-Cas frowned. “I will send you back to Hell myself.” He suddenly shot his arm forward and pierced it through Dean’s chest.

The pain was unbelievable. Every cell in Dean’s body screamed and fire burned him from the inside out. The flames around him rose higher as the hands grabbing him began to pull downwards…downwards…downwards…

He awoke with a gasp, his heart thumping in his chest and his breathing heavy. A thin layer of sweat covered his body and his hands shook. It had just been a nightmare. He turned to his right to the pillow next to his head, but it was empty.

Cas really was dead. The dream had been real.

No, Cas wasn’t dead. Cas was alive.

A wave of relief washed over Dean, but it was quickly overcome with sadness and isolation. Cas wasn’t there. Although his nightmares had been few and far between lately, Cas was always there to soothe him. He would sit next to his face and lovingly rub his forehead, or kiss his freckles and tell him that everything was alright. Sometimes, Dean would simply hold him in his hand, as if the tiny angel was the only thing anchoring him to reality and letting go of him would make him lose that grip.

But tonight, Dean was alone.

His fingers dug into the empty pillow next to his head. He had been an idiot and now he was alone. Of course Cas wasn’t useless. Of course Cas wasn’t weak. Cas was sometimes his only grip on reality. Cas was more than Dean would ever be able to put into words.

But Cas was so fragile. He couldn’t lose him.

A few tears ran down his cheeks of their own accord. He would talk to Cas in the morning. He would apologize. He would try to put into words what he felt. He would fix things.

But tonight, he was alone. Flames danced behind his closed eyelids. He could feel ashes fall gently on his face like snow. He could feel the weight of a broken angel in his hands. He could feel his mistakes crush his heart that continued to beat its mantra: Cas…Cas…Cas…

Sleep did not come again that night.

salfblog  asked:

Hey, I have a CC prompt :D Remember the series wrap video where Chris started crying and Darren couldn't hold him? I want a fic where Chris leaves the room because there are too many cameras and Darren goes after him to comfort him and at the end, Darren or Chris say "I'm never saying goodbye to you". Can you write it?

Sorry it took so long to get to this. My wifi picked today out of all days to be annoying.

Darren wasn’t much of a crier. It took a lot for him to get emotional, and even when he did, he hid it very well.

Sometimes it would go as far as his voice breaking, he’d avoid eye contact and sometimes even laugh louder than usual to avoid crying.

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Scruples

Written by - Tay

Words - 1.4k

Smut - No

Summary - You reunite with your ex-lover Luke years later

September 1922

  His hands trail down your body caressing and feeling every part of your soft and silky skin with his calloused hands. Every kiss is filled with so much love and passion. This wrong. So wrong. But  he doesn’t love her, not like he loves you.. The way your name falls from his lips so effortlessly is like he was made to say it. The way you felt so secure and valuable in his arms. You have never met her but how he describes her isn’t the way you describe someone you love. 

 “I love you more than anything Y/N” he moaned against your neck. And those were the words that would keep you coming back, that would allow you to make sense of this immoral situation. He loves you. Although those same words drove you into a hostile state, you removed his body from against yours. 

“If you love me so much why are you marrying her! Why her? Why?…” you whimpered. He sighed seeing the tears in your eyes.

 “Because my love, I cannot marry a poor woman while trying to live out my life as a rich man.”  He didn’t want to hurt you, you could tell by the remorseful look in his eyes, he had.

 “I should be going” you said gathering the clothes you had shed around the room.

 “Y/N please stay” he begged. You gathered every ounce of courage you had to say “It’s me or her, choose.” 

He looked up at you and stayed silent not to say you were surprised but you certainly felt inferior, you just didn’t have a position in his lavish and decadent lifestyle.

 “I will always love you Y/N” he voiced

 “As will I” you whispered so he could just barely hear you. And with that you left and put an end to this relationship.

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anonymous asked:

could you write some domestic, established fluff! like with the whole family, moira and thea and everyone? thank you :)

So this takes place in a crack!verse where everyone’s happy and they all love each other and it’s a big cozy family. Also, nobody’s dead and nobody ran off with any crazy villains. Told you it was crack!

* * *

Sometimes Oliver finds himself wondering what he did to deserve what he has now. With all those years spent in darkness, he never imagined he’d get to have this side of life.

He walks into their house, locking the door behind him and throwing his keys into the bowl nearby. The smell of homemade food and the sound of laughter permeate the air and a feeling of contentment settles in his chest. He moves through the hall, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes settling on Felicity, sitting on the kitchen counter, her hair loose around her shoulders. She’s talking quickly, hands waving around, feet kicking against the cupboards.

It always catches him off guard, how much he loves her. He’ll see her doing something so completely ordinary, and his heart will skip a beat and he’ll be overwhelmed with sheer adoration for every aspect of her. Usually when that happens, he grabs her and takes her to bed, showing her just how much he adores her for hours and hours. But he can’t do that tonight, because it’s family night and she’s chatting to his sister as they make beef ragout.

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