fifteen cover

chillableus  asked:

What happened after Kara punched Oso and dragged him out of the room?

i couldn’t live in such a toxic household.

Roses On Your Neck

Parring: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word: 1419

Warnings: nope

Summary: Soulmate!Au idea by @amoux-da-wolf, changed a bit. You get flowers where your soulmate gets injured

A/N: I love Soulmate!Au, let me know what you think!

Part 2 Part 3

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

Most people got scared and worried when flowers appeared on their body. They became worried when a violet showed up on their check, or called their loved ones when a dandelion appeared on their check.

The first time you had gotten a flower you were barely three years. A small marigold had appeared on your knee, and you had hurried inside to your parents, amazed by the yellow flower. However, as soon as they had explained why it appeared, you became terrified. What had happened to your soulmate? Were they okay?

After you told your parents off your thoughts, they only smiled. They assured you that the person probably just had fallen and scratched their knee. You had smiled nervous, before running off to show your knee to your friend.

Flowers started to appear a lot over the years. When you were only five years old, your ankle was covered in lilies, causing your parents to look worried at each other. They told you not to worry about it, but didn’t let you wear shorts or dresses without socks that covered your ankle.

A month after you had turned nine a big orchid covered your left arms. Your parents reached out to touch it, expressing their worries for your soulmate. When you were alone that night, you had trailed your fingers over the purple flower, wondering what had caused it, and if your soulmate had people taking care of him like you had. 

At fifteen you started covering up the flowers. You did not show your parents the lotus on your waist, you did not show your friends the magnolia that were hidden by your hair on your neck, and you did not show your doctor the daffodil on your lower back when he asked if you had any flowers. They became something private, something you would let your fingers gaze over late nights, something for you and your soulmate only.

Sometimes it was hard to hide. An iris had once appeared on your cheek while you were at work. Your co-workers had gasped, careful told you about the flower, and you had hidden your face for the rest of the week. Once you had taken a whole week off, because of the gypsophila covering your face. Your friends had laughed at you for wearing long sleeved on a summer day, but none of them knew it was to cover up the big gerbera on your shoulder.

All your flowers disappeared, some after a few days, some after a month, all except one. On your chest was a white daisy. It had appeared a long time ago, and had never left. You had more than one time wondered what had caused it, and if your soulmate had ever recovered from it.

It was the first time you were happy to see a flower show up. A small azalea had appeared on your forearm, and it was the first one since the daisy. Probably only a cut, but it had been the first time you bad been able to breath freely in weeks. It was fun, how knowing your soulmate was hurt could cause so much happiness. The azalea faded, but the daisy stayed.

You got use to see the flower every time you took your shirt off. It had haunted you once, but it became a part of you as much as the scar was a part of your soulmate.

Then you meet the Winchesters.

 

“FBI”

You had opened the door after you heard three knocks, and now you faced two men at your age. They were both taller than you, dressed in nice suits and holding their ID.

“Can we come in? “one of them asked, and you nodded, opening your door. Two weeks ago, your friend and roommate had disappeared, and a few days ago her body had been found dead.

“can I get you something? “you asked as you had showed them to your kitchen, gesturing for them to take a seat at the table.

“No thank you, it will not take long” the taller one said, and you nodded as you sat down on the other site of the table.

“I guess this is about Moira” you said, looking down at the table. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the men nod, and you took a deep breath before starting to tell the story.

 

You never really got over the fact that supernatural creatures existed. Even though the men told you their story you had a hard time accepting it. It raised so many questions in your head, questions the eldest did not have anything against answering.

“And what is this exactly then? “you asked, silently thanking the man for being patient with you.

“Well, we believe it is vampires” Dean Winchester asked. He sat on the chair he had sat on a few days earlier when you first meet him. In the chair beside him sat his brother with his computer open.

“And what? They’re coming for me? “you asked, as you started to peel some potatoes. You had asked if the brothers wanted dinner, which they had said yes to.

“We can only guess, but if they know you saw them that night, yes” the man at your table said. You stopped, thinking about what Dean had said.

“don’t worry, we got it under control! “The younger rushed in, obviously understanding how scared you suddenly had become.

“Yeah, we are professionals” Dean said, flashing you a smile.

 

You had not been yourself since that day. Not that anyone noticed, you hadn’t really seen anyone. You couldn’t bear having people look at you like they felt bad for you. They did not know how you felt, heck, a lot hadn’t even known Moira! The only one you saw were the Winchesters, and that was only a late night where they would capture the vampire.

They told you to lock yourself in your room, and not go out unless one of them said that you could. And so, you did. You sat on your bed as time passed and your palms became sweaty. You waited to hear something, from a fight, a sign you could come out, anything, except the hiss from your window.

You turned your head as soon as you heard the noise, widening your eyes, and screamed. Outside you could hear the boys starting to yell at you, running towards the door, except it was locked. You could hear them banging as the vampire ran towards you, grabbing your arm with such a force it surely would leave a bruise.

It was then the monster was ripped off you, and you looked up to see Dean struggling with him, before Sam swung a blade, separating his head from his body.

You stared terrified on the head on your floor, before looking up on the boys in front of you.

 

Sam and Dean had planned to leave the very same night, so when they had calmed you down, it was time for a goodbye.

“Thank you” you said, as they stood outside your door as they had done a week earlier. Behind them was their car, surely packed with all sorts of things you would never be able to guess.

“Ey, it’s what we do, right? “Dean said with a smile, and you nodded, before frowning.

“Are you okay? “you asked, referring to the blood on his neck.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it” he said, and you were able to manage a smile. You hugged both boys, before they wished you luck, and left.

 

You took a deep breath as you walked through your house. The boys had taken care of the body, so you had no problem with that. Your plan was to go take a shower, and finally get a good night’s rest.

When you stood in front of the mirror, you finally got a good look at yourself. You skin had become pale, and dark circles were painted under your eyes. You looked sick. Then your eyes felt on your neck.

On the left side were a stem with two, small roses on. You raised your hand, letting your fingers touch the flower.

You left the bathroom in a rush, not caring about the cold outside or anything else for that matter. The only thing on your mind was the rose. As you opened the door you ran outside of your house, looking down the road. In the distance, you could see a car driving away.

AU where your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your skin (bc every fandom should have one and this is my favourite fic trope ever)


Jack gets his words when he’s five years old. At first, he’s kind of confused.

“Maman,” he says, tugging at his mother’s shirt where she sits at the dining room table. He holds his arm up for her to see. “Je ne comprends pas!”

Alicia Zimmermann starts when she sees the words now permanently inked on her son’s forearm. They’re written in a loopy, pretty script down the middle of his arm, stark against his pale skin. She smiles when she reads the words – English, which he hasn’t yet learnt to read – and pulls him up into her lap. She holds his arm gently in her hands, and he pokes at the words suspiciously.

“Qu-est ce que c’est, Maman?”

“It’s your words,” she explains. “They’re the words that will tell you who your soulmate is.”

“Je-“

“Jack,” he looks away from his arm to meet her gaze, his confusion evident. Alicia pulls her jumper to expose her collarbone and the words written there. The handwriting is one Jack knows, recognizes pretty quickly as his father’s, but he’d never really considered the fact that the messy scrawl on his mother’s skin was actually written by his papa. “Everyone gets them at some point or other. Most people get them when their soulmate is born, but not always. Sometimes it’s a little later, or a little earlier, but the point is, there’s someone out there waiting for you.” She lets her jumper sit back in place and runs a gentle hand through her son’s messy black hair. “One day you’ll meet someone who says those words to you. You’ll know they’re your soulmate because it’ll be the first thing they say. Somewhere on their body will be the first words you’ll say to them.” Jack looks thoughtful.

“What do my words say, Maman?”

“Are you sure you can’t work it out?” Jack looks at his arm again, brow furrowed in concentration. His English reading ability is poorer than his French, and the handwriting is a bit too cursive for someone as young as him, but he’s always been determined. Alicia waits patiently as Jack mouths the words slowly, working them out in his head, trying to sound the letters into something he understands.

It’s five minutes before he smiles again, clearly pleased with himself. Whatever he’s worked out is evidently a sentence he understands from the way he bounces excitedly.

“Maman, I know what they’re saying!”

“You know what your soulmate is saying?”

“Oui. I know what they will say.” He takes a deep breath as he looks back down at his arm, running a small finger underneath the words as he reads them carefully out loud. His mother praises his reading, and after a few more minutes of questions about soulmarks the day returns to normal.

It’s only later, when he’s curled up in bed with his stuffed whale toy tucked against his body that he remembers the words again. He pulls back the sleeve of his pajamas to see the words still stark and clear on his skin, even in the low glow from his night light. He whispers them into the air wondrously. For all his excitement now, over the coming years his faith that the words will be spoken with good intention fade and fade as he learns more about the world.

By the time he’s fifteen he covers the words in a long arm sleeve specially designed to hide soulmarks. He only takes it off to shower, and never lets Kent see what’s beneath it. His mother tries to broach the topic once, suggests carefully that soulmarks are rarely ever said in the way one thinks, but his anger makes her sigh and leave it alone. She does encourage him to see a new therapist though, increasingly aware of his unimpeded anxiety over soulmarks and everything else. He feels guilty at his reaction to her concern so he reluctantly agrees to talk to someone about it. They’re better than the last one, and though they specialize in soulmate-related anxiety they quickly latch on to the fact that there are a lot more pressing things endangering Jack’s mental health. His visits are upped to thrice a week, and his prescription is swapped for something less intensive. It doesn’t rid him of anxiety, but it does help. He ends up making some changes to his life that help to lift some of the weight off his shoulders, and everything begins to feel more manageable.

When he’s drafted first pick to the Providence Falconers he’s in a tentatively good place. He’s happy about his team, pleased for Kent as he heads to Las Vegas with the Aces, and feels surprisingly positive despite the pressure the draft had put on him. The future looks brighter, clearer, and as he settles in during his first night in his new Providence apartment, he feels the urge to look at his words for the first time in years.

They still sting when he sees them, an old wound reopened, but he takes deep breaths. The writing is prettier than he remembers, and he almost chuckles at the thought that there’s someone out there with his god-awful handwriting on their body. He sobers up almost instantly, though, running a finger across the words like he did so many years ago. He knows what they mean: that his soulmate doesn’t want him, that he’s a disappointment, that he’s never going to have a relationship like his mother and father do with his soulmate. As he stares at the words he thinks that at least now he can probably deal with it. He’s got a great team and a promising future; a best friend; a much less strained relationship with his father. He knows, now, that he’s not a disappointment to his parents, even if he is to himself or his soulmate. He lives in a nice apartment in a nice area. He thinks he might get a dog.

Despite the hurt they cause, Jack finds himself pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his words, closing his eyes for a brief moment, desperately trying and failing to imagine a way someone could say these words and still want him.

Oh no, he recites in his head, those words that have been impossible to forget, it can’t be you.

Keep reading

never forget them (always treat them well)

pairing: jeon jeongguk | kim taehyung { minor: kim taehyung | min yoongi }

genre: angsty fluff

word count: 3,496


All Taehyung sees is splashes of color. Red of the winter rose, yellow of the sunflower, sunset orange of the tulips. Sometimes he sees the lavender fields, its pale violet petals spread for miles into the horizon. But he can’t smell them. He never can.



Taehyung has always had a miscommunication with flowers. Taehyung thinks the flowers hate him, but they just want to be his friend. The flowers think Taehyung hates them, so they pretend to hate him too, even though when they wilt at night, they always think of Taehyung.

Taehyung was thirteen when the flower bloomed on his wrist. He jolted out of his slumber with jolts of searing pain throbbing throughout his muscles, pinging his nerves. The only thing he could do was scream for someone to hear him, so he would have someone to take care of him, to explain to Taehyung what is happening to him. The only person that ended up hearing him, unfortunately to the younger’ demise, was Jeongguk himself, sleeping right next to him.

Jeongguk rubbed his wide eyes, mouth hanging with uncertainty of what to do. “TaeTae!” Taehyung looked next to him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Gukkie, it hurts.” That was when it clicked. The younger has always been more observant, coming to his senses, he pointed at Taehyung’s arm, the shock of the situation adjusted his eyes to the dark for him. Jeomgguk grew scared at the sight before him, what would Taehyung do?

“Your flower..”

Taehyung’s flower began in a thin black line, stretching across, slowly binding into a cluster of weeds. “N-no, Jeongguk, make it stop. I don’t want it.” Taehyung scratched at the flower forming hoping it wouldn’t seep into his skin.

“Taehyung stop!” The smaller boy pulled at his arms, putting them around his thin waist to stop him from scraping into his own flesh. “You’re going to hurt yourself. I need you.”

Jeon Jeongguk was only eleven. He had only known the flower appears whenever it wants to, and since his own flower hasn’t came yet, he figured his was a late bloomer. Jeongguk always wanted one. His parents had one, his cousin, his teacher. And now his best friend had one. He began to feel left out, but a warm drop hitting his shoulder pulled him out from the thoughts flooding slowly in his mind. “Guk, take it away, I don’t like it.”

How he wished he could.

But it was Taehyung’s flower and no matter how much he hated it, he was stuck with it until death finally caught up to him, vines clutching around his ankles, dragging him away. Jeongguk never knew exactly why Taehyung hated flowers so much, he never tried to smell them on the way to school like Jeongguk did. He never bought them for his teacher on the last day of school, and when he was presented with flowers for his first grade recital, Taehyung threw them on the ground running off the stage and to his car. He never told Jeongguk why, so he never pushed the reason, he thought it would push Taehyung further away from him.

Jeongguk couldn’t do anything but rub his friend’s back and wipe away the stray tears that got away smiling at him, softly telling him it would all be alright. That night Jeongguk hummed him back to sleep, not letting Taehyung see the flower on his wrist. Maybe when they both woke up it would be gone, or even on Jeongguk’s wrist instead.

It was still there.

Jeongguk woke up to Taehyung thrashing out of his arms and throwing a lamp to the floor. “Taehyung!” Taehyung turned his head towards Jeongguk, a blubbering mess may he add, and snickered colby, looking down at the mark.

“Who would of thought? The kid that hates the flowers most will have petals and leaves running throughout his whole arm one day.”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“They hated me first, Jeongguk.”

“Hey—”

“Don’t. You don’t have to deal with this. Stop trying to coddle me and keep me sheltered from it, you know nothing.”

And with that, Taehyung turned back around and stomped out of the younger’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

When Taehyung was fifteen, he covered the marking on his wrist with a bandage so no one would have to see him with it. So he wouldn’t have to see himself with it. It was only a reminder. A reminder of the thing he could never have. Jeongguk always covered it for him so it wouldn’t be so hard on Taehyung, he could see it in his eyes he never wanted to see that flower bloom. Jeongguk is just lucky the vines haven’t started growing yet, he never wanted to see the day. There wouldn’t be enough bandages for when that day would come.

Taehyung envied the thirteen year old boy. Jeongguk’s wrist was clear of the flora that haunted his own, he was pure, not a petal in sight. Taehyung longed to go back to the night where his flower etched across his skin and somehow stop it from happening. Transmit it to Jeongguk instead. He knew that Jeongguk envied him as well. Whenever he unwrapped the bandage on his wrist he always felt Jeongguk’s fingers graze amongst the ink forever seeped into his skin. He marveled at the cluster of wild daisies, Taehyung ignored how his breath hitched when he saw the marking. Taehyung ignored it all. Jeongguk always sighed and placed a new bandage on the skin and pulled down the sweater sleeve once it was out of his way.

When Taehyung was seventeen, he fell in love with Jeongguk.

“Taehyung, we can’t. I am not your flower. I don’t have one, it isn’t me.”

Jeongguk always went by the book when it came to falling in love. If there was one action that didn’t match what his professor told him during spontaneous soulmate lectures, then it wasn’t love at all.

“I don’t need a flower to confirm anything about me, especially how I feel about you, Jeongguk, you got that?”

Taehyung, on the other hand, threw the book at the person who invented on love. He wanted his own path to fill with mile markers of memories and speed limit signs documenting how fast his heart raced. Maps scribbled with Sharpie, circling landmarks of the moments where he knew that love existed.

“Why did they hate you first?”

“They never answered me.”

Jeongguk didn’t press matters any further with him, he knew he would get nowhere with the older boy.

When Taehyung was nineteen a vine slowly grew on his skin. He was of age, and he was determined that they finally came to torment him climbing up from the depths of hell.

His soulmate’s first cry, the first cry Taehyung could know about anyway. He wished he wouldn’t cry so much, it only bombed him with more vines, spreading like a disease through his whole body.

Those markings only grew when the other would cry, leaves marking the times they thought about their soulmate. No leaves grew. Only vines distanced themselves towards his left shoulder and glittered across his collarbones. Taehyung never thought about them either after all, Jeongguk was the only person he needed.

Until Jeongguk had enough.

“Taehyung, you have someone else’s life etched into your arm! All the times they cry, how much they think about you! Do you know how terrible that makes me feel? Knowing you supposedly love me but see every action the person makes on your body? When we are together and another vine grows, how could you just ignore it? How can you not stare until your eyes water and mind freezes with anything but that damn vine? It makes me sick knowing that I am not the one on your arm, Tae. I can’t.. I love you, but I cant anymore.”

“Do you really think I want this all over my arm, Jeongguk? Don’t you really think if there was a way to take it all off I wouldn’t have done it already? If I want anyone’s flower, it should be yours! I don’t want this person, I want you.”

His neck began to burn, teeth grinding to distract him from the pain. Taehyung’s hand clutched to the side of his neck wanting to hide what ever was happening away from Jeongguk’s vision. He didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Let me see, Tae.”

Taehyung fell to his knees wrapping his fingers around his neck tighter. “N-no.”

“Move your hand,” Tears began to drip down his cheeks. “I need to see.”

Taehyung hung his head, shaking it violently avoiding Jeongguk’s gaze. “Don’t, Jeongguk please, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk pulled up his sleeve and gently raise Taehyung’s head moving all of the hair away from his eyes so he could look into them. “You’re crying.” Taehyung looked down to his bare arm only to find a vine growing from a small lavender bundled by his wrist, surrounded by leaves.

He was right, he was a late bloomer after all. The smile of happiness Jeongguk accumulated when he was in the middle of reading a book, when it started forming, quickly changed courses to a dull frown. Tears grew in his eyes, throwing the book across the room. He didn’t know if the flower was meant for Taehyung until the first leaf appeared when he called Jeongguk between classes and said he loved him.

“When? When did this happen? Why am I there but you’re not here?!” Taehyung scraped the daisies that embraced his wrist. “I hate them, I hate the person who is on my arm. I hate it all. And I am going to lose the only thing I don’t hate.”

“It happened last month. I didn’t know until you called later and said you loved me. I a, sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I know how bad you don’t want someone else, and it only seemed rude to say I had the privilege of your flower but you don’t have mine,” Jeongguk pulled him into a hug and held him in his embrace. “Taehyung, please stop.”

“I hate them!”

“Why, Taehyung? How could you hate them so much? Why wouldn’t they answer you?”

“My mother died when I was seven, you know that.” Taehyung sighed into Jeongguk’s chest. “She loved flowers, we used to put them in every empty corner of the room, made space for them amongst the clutter in the tables. Her favorite was lavender, said they reminded her of me. Saying they were a social plant, bees always were attracted to them and everything naturally just surrounded themselves around them. My favorite were daisies, they were always many of them, but one flower always meant more to the others than other people. She was my daisy, amongst all the other ones growing, she was the one that was special to me, the only person that mattered. About a year earlier, mom became really sick. She could hardly walk out of bed and eat anything. So, I talked to them, prayed to them to keep her with me, to not let her go. But they didn’t listen. She said they would always be there for me when I needed them most.”

Jeongguk moved the fingers combing through Taehyung’s hair, letting his chin rest against the top of his head, holding him tighter. “Taehyung, she is still with you. She is there on your arm.”

“No. No she isn’t, Gukkie.”

“All those vines aren’t her crying, they are for every time she says I love you. And that leaf one your neck, the ones that will grow after that, they are when she kisses you goodnight when we get into bed.”

Taehyung moved his head and looked straight at Jeongguk. “Don’t leave me. I already lost her, I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t lose me, Taehyung. I am right here, always.”

When Taehyung was twenty-three that was when Jeongguk was by his side for the last time.

“Kim Taehyung,” he says, with a smile as sweet as hyacinths.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook says, watching Taehyung as the nurse roll him in, helping him into the bed next to where Taehyung sat.

“So I’ve heard a lot about you from around here,” Taehyung says, settling into Jeongguk’s best, pushing himself down into the pillows with a steady laugh.

“Really? How could anyone be talking about me?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow. Taehyung grins, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Some weirdo went around the whole floor talking about his boyfriend and how much he loved him. Don’t know who that was, but you really became the topic of conversation.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist, placing a kiss to the cluster of daises. He would hope that would make Taehyung shut up, but Taehyung keeps talking. And Jeongguk doesn’t necessarily mind to hear about the stuffed animal he bought Jeongguk waiting at home on his side of the bed.

The next day, Taehyung visited him again after his shift of work, and was greeting with squinting eyes and a laughter as melodic as honeysuckle.

“I made this waiting for you. I know you don’t like flowers and all but—"Taehyung looked at Jeongguk’s hands, shaking wondering what reaction he would have.
A flower crown of lavender was placed into his grasp and he marveled at the creation.

“I hate them, but it’s still prefect. It’s…you.” he answers glaring at the bouquets and bouquets of flowers taking up space in Jeongguk’s room.

“You’re going to grow a flower allergy one day with all these flowers in your room. When we go home I am not letting you take a single petal home, you got that? You deserve a flower free life.”

Jeongguk chuckled, “Can’t, sorry. There’s this one flower, for some idiot, some people call him my boyfriend, it can’t go away no matter how bad I want it to.”

Taehyung scans over his lips, leaning over the side of the bed watching Jeongguk reach for another flower, bending the stem just so, reaching out for another, tying each stem to the next until it is a knotted mess with irises popping up here and there. Taehyung watches with a sense of enlightenment, wondering how someone could be so bad and making flower crowns, but look so cute doing it, proud of his creation treating it as if he won the world.

“Will I ever get to go home?” he’d said, gripping onto Taehyung’s shirt pulling him into the empty space that resided next to him in his bed.

Jungkook nods like he is certain he will. He does but he really doesn’t. How could he? Jeongguk knew how bad he was getting, Taehyung did too.

Please, this time. Save him, I love him.

The flowers grew no reply.

“Weeds from outside,” Jeongguk exclaims, holding out a thin stem of white hued with a flush of pink. “I went outside today, they let me before you got here. They’re pretty basic but they go nicely everything else,” Jeongguk’s skills at flower crowns hadn’t grown any better, but he enjoyed it all the same, they were the prettiest things to him in the world. Well, besides Taehyung anyway.

“Don’t leave me.” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung blinks back tears threatening to escape, not wanting to grow another vine across Jeongguk’s arm. Jeongguk knew he would go home and cry. Cry for him, even though he pretended not to notice the way purple rings bloomed under Taehyung’s eyes and his build became daintier, completion fairer. The vines hurt, but he realized it could never be as terrible as what Taehyung was feeling. He could deal with the pain.

“I could never.”

“What’s up, stud-muffin,” Taehyung asks, waltzing through the door, stopping in front of a patch of flowers, blocking them from view.

“I hate you,” Jeongguk sighs.

“You love it,” Taehyung winks and blows him a kiss, sitting across from the boy. “Your parents are doing better. Your mom is almost over the flu and your dad told me to say he misses you.”

He thumbs at his daily flower crown in his hands for another minute or two leaning into where Jeongguk laid.

“They miss you,” he says, eyes starting to glaze over with something unidentifiable to Jeongguk. But something so very common.

“I miss you,” a voice chokes out, trying not to break apart in front of the person he was supposed to make feel better.

“Thanks for spending all the time you could with me, up to the very end,” Jeongguk says, head turned on his pillow enough to see Taehyung staring at him. Taehyung is clutching his hand so tight both their knuckles have gone white, losing all feeling.

“Jeongguk, Don't—"but the younger cuts him off with a smile, a laugh, that still made Taehyung feel weak when he heard it.

“You know the very first time your flower came, I thought it would never be me. That you would fall in love with someone from your class and go to college together and I would visit on the weekends. I am glad that it was me instead. Even if I wasn’t the one on your arm, even though I knew it wasn’t me, eventually it felt like I was. You didn’t need a vine to see when I was crying because you were always right by my side. You didn’t need a leaf to see how much I was thinking of you because you were already there for me to tell those words to when I felt like it. You were right, I didn’t need a flower on you after all. But promise me something, find that flower, Tae. It is there for a reason, don’t give up on it. Don’t cut your life short just because mine was.”

“Don’t fucking say that.” Taehyung almost squeezes too tight digging his fingertips into the other’s hand. He didn’t want to hear those words. He didn’t want to hear that goodbye. Jeongguk was supposed to be with him forever, they were supposed to raise twenty cats together at fifty and knit blankets for one another. They were supposed to take walks together outside of confined hallways that smelled like dull saline and linen sheets. They were supposed to lay back in a bed of their own and not worry about feeding or medicine schedules. They were supposed to live their lives. Together.

“It’s true,” Jeongguk says, running his thumb along the back of Taehyung’s hand. “I never understood why you hated flowers so much, until I realized that they never answered my prayers either. But I think I am okay with them not granting my will to live, but for the one to live yours. To move on, after I am no longer here to make you shitty knotted flower crowns and corny jokes to make it seem like I wasn’t dying,”

“Jeon Jeongguk, I swear to God, don't—” Taehyung is not crying. He isn’t. They both ignore the blast of pain Jeongguk fills grow to his back from his chest. He isn’t crying. He isn’t.

He is.

“Fucking let me finish, Tae,” Jeongguk says, and Taehyung slams his feet on the floor, looking back into his lover’s eyes. There it was again, that look. Jeongguk finally thought he knew what it meant: Goodbye.

“So thank you, Taehyung. For loving me, every second, even when I never doubted you did, and all people on their death bed can’t say that, but I can because I have you.”

“I fucking hate flowers,”

“Good,” Jeongguk says, and he giggles. Taehyung wants to reach out and grab Jeongguk, but he knew he was too fragile, his porcelain doll. “But even if you hate them, never forget them. Don’t forget me even if I wasn’t your flower, always treat them well.”

“You were always my flower laced in invisible ink for only my eyes to see.”

He wasn’t supposed to have flowers at his funeral, but lavender hung from the ceiling woven in golden thread knotted terribly together, daisies danced across the room, blooming towards Jeongguk and the bountiful life he lived. A tribute, a goodbye to their old friend.

He lets his eyes trace over the name engraved into the marble—Jeon Jeongguk , “Never forget them.” and then his date of birth, date of death, years ago.

“You’re a fucking terrible person, Jeon,” he says, scratching at the corners of his eyes because even now, all those years later, he can still see Jeongguk’s smile like the night has wrapped it around his mind long enough to scar, just like those daisies did. “We grew up together, fell in love together, everything we did, we never had to go through it alone. You changed me, Gukkie. And if the roles were switched, if you were the one talking to me right now, I know that you would have done the same thing for me. Only you wouldn’t bitch as often and complain about my side of the bed being cold. Thank you, for teaching me that flowers don’t define what I feel. Hatred doesn’t define. Only I define. And you defined me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut if only to stop the tears.

“I would’ve wanted… to spend the rest of my life with you too… but you asshole, you didn’t let me.” He hiccups. It’s been so many years.

Taehyung visited him every week with a fresh bouquet of lavender and daisies, crumbling the old ones to blow in the wind above his headstone. Taehyung smiled, “I know I have already told you, but I want you to know your prayers, the ones you thought they would listen to…they did come true. We met at this terrible bar a couple miles from where we lived. He drove a terribly blue colored Chevy and almost ran into me drunk off his ass. Turns out he is allergic to flowers so I don’t have to worry about that,” Taehyung chuckles. “ Min Yoongi. You would like him, I think. He’s a complaining bitch, but he is my complaining bitch. We got married about four years ago, you were my best man, you should know. I knew even though we couldn’t see you, you were there. I just hope you weren’t watching the honey moon, your poor eyes…I miss you, Jeongguk. I love you.”

“Is that Uncle Jeongguk?”

Taehyung turned around only to find a small boy looking up at him, beaming, a curious smirk growing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah it is. Jeongguk you remember him right? He visited after me and Yoongi adopted him. Yoongi had to work today, so he had to come along, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Are those all for him?” The boy looked around the marble and saw piles and sprinkles of daisies and lavender.

“They sure are.”

“You must really like flowers, huh?”

Taehyung chuckled, “Actually I hate them,” he turned for a brief moment to look back at Jeongguk. “but he loved them, and I loved him.”

“Well do you want me to bring you flowers too?” He placed his small hand in Taehyung’s jacket pockets, trying to grow warm from the cool breeze that hits his frozen cheeks.

“Only if you want me to haunt you from the grave.” He giggled, throwing the boy in his back. “Come on, Daddy should be home from work any second now and he will get pissy if we don’t bring him food.”

“Oh shit.” Taehyung froze at the word, he had to or he would have dropped the boy from laughing too hard. “That’s my boy. Alright, hop in and I will race you to the front door when we get home, deal?”

“Deal!”

If only the dead could speak.

I miss you too, Taehyung.

The Prince with the Ugly Heart Chpt.1

Jungkook x Reader - Fairy Tale AU 

Chapter 1: A Change Of Fate 

Genre: Fluff/Slight Angst

Length: 2,650

Next Chapter: Chpt.2

x x x

“What do you mean?!” Jungkook demanded. His father had just concluded his vastly significant speech and was as stupefied by the message that had been delivered through it. In addition to the blow, he couldn’t believe that his father would keep such major details from him - his only son.

“I mean what I mean. Wasn’t my speech clarifying enough?” they have reached the main living space and settled upon separate seats. In spite of Jungkook’s secretion of distress, his father remains unfazed.

“No! Why have you kept this from me?” the perplexed prince enquires after finally regulating his  asymmetrical breathing.

“I have my reasons…”

“And you choose to keep those to yourself as well?!” Jungkook wasn’t aware of his blaring voice, and although it was as booming as an echoing thunder clap, the mild, coarse hack of his father was enough to silence him with an overwhelming wave of worry.

“I apologise but I thought it best to keep you from fretting over something so trifle.” his son gazed at his slumped form. Jungkook had shot up when delivering his argumentative statements but his dad remained seated, almost seeming to slouch further with the ever present weight of his illness. It was confusing to the prince how he was not able to determine the sufferings of his only father. The symptoms should’ve hit him right away. Maybe it had, but he was too engrossed in his own self that he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge anything.

“Appa…this isn’t a trifle matter. You know how I feel whenever you keep something from me.” by the end of his distressed utterance, Jungkook was seated at his father’s side.

“I know son and I’m sorry.”

‘Sorry’ wasn’t going to cut it, “I deserve to know father.” Jungkook declared, brows furrowing into a creased mess at the centre of his forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that…you know for a fact that sorry isn’t as helpful as actually going back to correct your wrongs.” there was true wisdom in the words that the young prince spoke, arousing a sense of pride within his father’s failing-to-function chest.

“After this little lecture you’re putting me through, I believe that this kingdom may be handed over to good hands.” a striking blow in the gut. All that Jungkook could manage was an unbelieving, wide-eyed stare at the old king. It wasn’t to take in his wrinkled features, but was an attempt to telepathically question what he had just said. This is all a joke..isn’t it?

“Appa…”

“Don’t doubt yourself son, you’re more fitting for this role than you think. Obstacles must be conquered, yes? However, that cannot stop you. I know for a fact that you will do what’s best for this kingdom. The weight of peer pressure cannot touch you. It’ll only worsen your self-doubt. Promise me that you’ll remain confident and wise…”

“…I promise…”

x x x

In his mind (when recalling the past event), he saw the horrified expression of the public after his father had announced his retirement as their monarch. If the prince wasn’t trying to overcome the unpleasant surprise as well, he wouldn’t have felt offended at all, surprisingly. In fact, he would’ve felt the same level of alarm the public were given, unable to digest the announcement his father had made.

He wasn’t ready to take over as the ruler for the kingdom. In spite of his unmindful acts, Jungkook was well aware of his weaknesses - it’s a longwinded list that continues to exist within his mind.

“Are you alright your highness?” a concerned member of staff asks, disturbed over his uncharacteristic pacing. Every few minutes he would either jitter from anxiousness or almost walk into something, so lost in his own daunting reality.

“Don’t touch me! Stay away!” Jungkook snarled, scowling at the poor woman who had her hand reached out - in caution - to place onto his tense shoulder. Her full lips pressed into a tight line before she forced herself to bow her head and scurry away.

A hefty sigh attempted to relieve him of his worries but only created more space within his conscience to panic. So engrossed in his own dilemmas, Jungkook didn’t comprehend the escalating footsteps that echoed through the pristine halls of his family’s castle. It wasn’t until the person, who was responsible for such a disturbance of the previously noiseless atmosphere, was in front of him and talking, that the prince finally paid attention to his surroundings.

“Sire, the king is unable to do his first-hand surveillance of the kingdom and requests that you do so in his place.” Jungkook recognised who this messenger boy was. He was a tall lad that adorned vermillion locks, a metaphor for his bright personality. The boy’s attire was sharp and  elegant , however, the seriousness in his countenance was exceedingly unusual for the male to adorn, as Jung Hoseok was renowned for his vibrant nature.

“What is he so caught up in that he is requesting me to do his chores?” the prince had no intention of his words to come out at such a harsh tone (his intonation made it appear as though he was harbouring great despise towards the king), even so, he had too much pride to surrender and acted as if he meant to be spiteful.

“He is currently being taken care of by several doctors your highness. They have advised him to stay in bed and suggested that he renounce his inspection, they fear that he’s at a rather frail state at the moment.” another wave of anxiousness flooded Jungkook’s being, it was evident on his face for just a moment but no longer did he allow himself to appear weak in front of an employee of the palace.

“I suppose that’s a reasonable enough vindication. I shall get ready then, tell the staff to assist me in my quarters.” the male nodded and was about to go off in order to fulfil his given instructions, “Also, I’d like to request the additional presence of the head butler.” with that, the two males went their separate ways.

Hoseok was almost tripping over his steps. He had just witnessed a side of the prince that he’s never seen before. Honestly, he agreed with the large number of people that disapproved of Jungkook’s future reign due to the adverse reputation the prince had made of himself, although, after seeing the sovereign display signs of fright for his father’s ill health, a glimmer of hope for a somewhat brighter future than what he had previously imagined if Jungkook really were to become King, arose inside him. It wouldn’t be a big difference from what he had formally visualised, but there was still a dissimilarity.

Perhaps…there can be hope.

x x x

It had been a long afternoon for the prince and he was more than willing to skip his dinner in order to just lay in the welcoming mattress of his bed, where upon he’ll succumb to a peaceful slumber. He felt consistent spurs to throw up the contents of his stomach when seeing average, low-class people go about their days as happily as they allow themselves. The feeling came upon him like an instinct, one that blossomed from an afflicting past.

Whatever has gone by belongs behind us all, and the graceful prince had hoped to have grown an endurance for such a sensation, however, not all things can ever go one’s way.

Truly, to be cradled by his velvety sheets and pillows was the most inviting idea he had been keeping in mind for the past hour. No longer did he want to continue such an unimportant scrutiny, feeling that it has been prolonged far too much, and had easily become a chore that he felt great discontentment in fulfilling.

“Tell me that this is our last place of inspection before heading off to the palace.” Jungkook groaned.

“Yes sire, it is.” a contented look crossed his features but upon taking in the state of the knights at his sides, he came to realise that he had not allowed them to take a break for the past three and a half hours. He was so eager to get everything done as soon as possible, that he had been utterly ignorant towards them. Feeling slight pity, he announced that he’ll allow them a fifteen minute break, covering up his empathy by stating that it was more for his benefit - “I want to get down and have a walk, my inner thighs are cramping.”.

Avoiding their suspecting eyes, Jungkook proceeded to get down from his stallion and set up the order of what they should do to start their break. One by one, the knights dismounted their chargers and secured them before dispersing, talking amongst themselves about casual things. Jungkook took some time in patting the mane of his lean, muscular white horse (typical of a prince) before deciding to head off when seeing that he had nothing to do. He had made sure to also secure his tall stallion prior to his leaving.

Upon looking around, Jungkook was able to identify night and day within the town located closest to his castle. The rich aristocrats and such were distinguishable by their affluent attires and self-conduct, whereas those who are poor were bustling about in partially tattered garments, sections of their skin pampered with a light but discernible dust of dirt. He held his nose high around them, only minding the noblemen and women, though still subdued.

Around him, people forcibly bowed in respect, which only fed his ego and, in turn, made his lips turn up into a complacent smirk that made the bowing lower-class men and women bite their lips, suppressing their scowls. In the air, he caught various scents. There was a cafe and several restaurants near by that served appetising edibles, however, there was also the foul odour of waste material and mud, it made his nose pinch together but scoffed and muttered under his breath how low individuals were to not care for the repellent stench enough, in order to manage it. The crowded scuttling encircling the prince that looked so out of place, was a clear attempt of suffocation and ended in him deciding that he was better off in the clear field, petting the unpolluted mane of his stallion, so unlike the grubby beings scampering past his form.

Turning with his heel, the young prince walked back the way he came, however, with all of the rush that rang in his ears, he unintentionally got lost upon his way back. It wasn’t until he involuntarily stumbled into a narrow ally that he realised he had strayed from his deliberate path. A grumble and a huff later, he changed direction to walk out, striving to take the right turns and track in order to reach his awaiting mount.

“E-excuse me sir…” the sudden voice made him jump. There was somebody else here? The prince mulled over the thought before turning to see a figure that was unquestionably not there the last time he had checked, which was not too long ago. It was a woman. She wasn’t beautiful; elegant; proper; important and clearly not a royal. She was unattractive; unrefined; obscene; insignificant and distinctly impoverished.

“What do you want?” the prince snapped, disgusted at himself in even giving the old hag the time of day.

“Pl-please may you lend m-me some m-money?” her voice came out fractured and with an unintelligible accent that made it difficult to distinguish her wording, but Jungkook miraculously managed to perceive her difficult speech and pulled a face of revulsion.

“Why should I?” there was a mongrel of a bark in his offended enquiry.

“Pl-pl-“

“I don’t have time for this!” Junkook turned and took a step.

“If you take four more steps then your fate shall be changed.” the old lady’s utterance was a little more legible but the prince shrugged it off, too prideful to allow a threat to break him.

He took a step.

“One..”

Then another.

“Two..”

Was her voice becoming clearer? More feminine?

“Three..”

Her voice sounds younger..and smooth.

“Four!”

A bright light engulfed Jungkook, eliciting a scream of pain from the back of his throat as an acute pain shot through him. It began at the tip of his tail bone before quickly launching itself up his vertebral column, he felt his bones bending into an uncomfortable hunch as he watched in horror when his skin bubbled like boiling water before finally settling with hideous scars and blemishes - flecks of dark tones peppering his once immaculate complexion. An uncommon inflammation beneath the surface of his face spread like wildfire across his distorted jaw until it eventually became a sore ache. His hair fizzled and shrunk, becoming short and spindly thin, dry at the tips yet oily at the roots. He then felt an addition of weight clinging around him before an off-putting invisible canopy of miasma encompassed him. In his eyes, there was a look of panic and terror, wishing to the gods that what had just happened, was all a nightmare. He could tell that his physique had changed drastically as he physically felt as though he was in an entirely different body.

“Young Prince!” Jungkook looked up with substantial difficulty, at a beautiful, elegant, proper, important and seemingly royal lady.

“Who are you?” he whimpered weakly before quickly coming to a realisation, “Were you the one that did this to me?!” he spoke roughly, surprised at how unpleasant his voice came out as. Coarse like sand paper and deeper than the deepest of oceans, accompanied by highlights of the highest of tonal frequencies, one that had the aptitude to break glass.

“Yes..and for good reason.” her large and gracefully winged eyes glared at his new appearance. “Your heart was ugly and foul and reeked with the stench of all things ill-favoured. You did not deserve such an angelic and handsome outward appearance. Now, you shall pay the price for all the sins you’ve committed.” Although her voice came out smooth, golden and sweet, like honey, she spoke with excessive bite and bark, causing Jungkook to shrink back, slightly intimidated by her air of outstanding beauty and momentous demeanour. “With each step you took, you have to pay back a sin. You took Five steps all together.” outstretching her hands, her fingers made a swift motion to instantly wrap a permanent bronze necklace around his neck. “The jewels on this pendant are dull and represent all the things that you must learn and become, in order to gain back your previous appearance. It won’t be easy so I will allow you to seek help.” she gave a short, humourless chuckle, “if your ego will allow you to do so.” Jungkook bit his tongue to prevent a comment that could potentially worsen his current situation. “You are forbidden to speak of this spell to anyone, understand? If you try, your lips will be sealed shut until you begin to talk about something else.”

In the silence that followed, Jungkook sighed in defeated and lowered his head. “What do I need to learn and become?..” he muttered softly, not wanting to express his new, gruff voice more than he had to.

The enchantress before him raised a brow but complied in answering, “You must learn to be Considerate, Caring, Capable, Charismatic and Compatible. Your deadline is the day of your coronation, the 3rd day of Spring. You have exactly eight months until then. If you haven’t reached your goals, you will forever remain grotesque in looks, an appropriate reflection of your heart. Good luck, you’re going to need it.” and with a swish of her lengthy robes of gold and silver, she vanished, leaving him in a deserted alley.

I love Moana so much it’s just so good and pure and the music is incredible and everything about it is perfect and I wanna go and see it again and again because it’s literally the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life I haven not stopped thinking about it for literal weeks it’s SO. GOOD.

Sterek + Halloween Fic Recs

Happy Halloween guys! 

Here’s a list of some Halloween themed fics posted within the past year, (in no particular order) 

Also, this list got kind of long so the majority was put under a read more. 

Enjoy!

This Isn’t Real by littlefrog1025 (1/1 | 3,634 | R)

A well-meaning witch causes a bit of angst between Stiles and Derek with a love spell on Halloween.

Something Spooky, Something Blue by crossroadswrite (1/1 | 2,483 | G)

Derek sighs and boredly stuffs a handful of gummi bears in his mouth, straight out of a Halloween candy bowl Aunt Olivia insists in buying every year even if they never get trick or treaters this far into the woods.

He tilts his head and tunes back into the boys’ conversation, which has been the prime time entertainment of the Hales for the past ten minutes or so.

“It’s dark,” one of the boys whines.

“Don’t be a baby, Scott,” the second chastises.

“But, I don’t wanna,” Scott whines, like a baby.

Imagine Me And You by callunavulgari (6/6 | 16,080 | G)

“My name,” the kid tells Derek, sounding amused. “It’s Stiles. I figure if I’m going to wrestle a complete stranger for a pumpkin the least I can do is offer my name afterwards.”

“Stiles,” Derek tries, testing the way the name sits on his tongue. “I’m Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, like he’s testing the weight of the name too. He grins, bright and blinding, which Derek guesses means that he likes the sound of it. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but since we almost got to second base a minute ago, I’d say we’re past that point.”

reason to stay by bleep0bleep (7/7 | 12,564 | PG13)

Life is cruel. Derek Hale is only going to be here in Beacon Hills for a week. Sundays Fun Days is a lie. It was not fun, getting a bit of hope and having it torn away.

How much wooing can Stiles do in a week, anyway?

~
It’s the last week of October, and a small town baker has run into his first crush again. Fate might have other ideas. Stiles tries for romance with a little help from what Beacon Hills does best— Halloween.

The power of Superman by mildmanneredmissy (1/1 | 2,566 | PG13)

Derek’s Superman outfit breaks Stiles.

Marked for Later by hazelNuts (1/1 | 5,005 | R)

The Hale and the McCall pack have an uneasy truce. Now, when a witch has been killing people in both their territories, Derek and Stiles have to go undercover and actually work together to stop her.

‘We’ll go as a couple, of course. Then we either ask her if she wants a threesome, or I complain to her about my dick of a boyfriend. That role shouldn’t be too hard for you,’ Stiles grins, delighted at Derek’s horrified expression. ‘Now all we need are costumes.’
‘No.’

Little Red Riding Hoodie and the Sourwolf by SourWolfie (pieprincess_andthe_fallenangel) (1/1 | 7,233 | NC17)

It had seemed like a good idea when Stiles had first thought of it… it was funny… would make everyone laugh despite all the recent deaths in their pack.

Or the one where Stiles wears a revealing little red riding hood costume to Lydia’s Halloween party.

Keep reading

shit arctic monkeys say

”plenty water”
”that rock ‘n roll”
”plant”
”yeezus”
”invoice me for the microphone if you need to”
”its rare that we dont look like that”
”jamies fridge”
”hips”
”death ramps ring”
”accidently matching clothes with band”
”LAAAAAAAAAAAADIES”
”glastonbreh”
”miles”
”puppy face”
”jamie’s new hair”
”matthew j helders the third”
”matt = god poster”
”do the macarena to the devils lair moves”
”humbug hair”
“dont believe the hype”
”wank friends”
”scummy man”
”scumbag”
“17 years old spanish girl”
”what came first the chicken or the dickhead”
”slag”
”alex’s comb”
”i spit nothing but the truth”
”get out me garden”
”alex’s knees”
”fifteen more years”
”sos cover with miles”
”poker face cover”
”the view from…”
”the apollo”
”im a rock drummer”
”alex’s bulge”
”nick and his grammy awards photos”
”fookin”
”alex in a suit”
”jamie cook the name finder of arctic monkeys”
”i cant remember the fucking words oh babe”
”plastic cups?”
”al’s crazy dance on stage”
”alex forgets he’s the singer”
”margarita?4 margaritas no 5 margaritas”
”delighted”
”fuck do you think”
”rock ‘n’ roll poet sex god”
”and the band forgets the countdown”
”nme falls for arctic monkeys”
”b-sides”
”alex turner sex appeal 54” wtf
”jamie ironing his jacket while the band singing knee socks”
”turnergasm”
”its the solo what do you gonna do about the solooo”
”artic monkeys”
”wet humbug hair”
”nick’s true reaction”
”yellam osalohcin ”
”kung fu fighting moves specially bbc reading 2014”
”vertigo”
”we’re arctic monkeys,if you enjoyed our language lesson,please share with your wank friends”
”humbug jacket backs 2015”
”one for the road mic”
”wank bank”
”i a napper”
”the age of the understatement”
”Luke…soy tu padre”
”finsbury park jacket 2014 like a pimp”
”alex’s oral with mic”
”agile beast”
”#0114”
”guilty feet have got no rhythm”
”alex tooks of his shirt”
”Alex responds to a passerby on a jet-ski”
”a fucking broadyway musical”
”alex’s in tight pants”
”got enough room there,love?’
”pointing something”
”submarine”
”cq man awards speech”
”its just says Matt Helders sings like a crow”
”am south america”
”ay,you stop it”
”hasta la vista”
”alex’s hands”
”do we give you that impression face”

and manys…

anonymous asked:

Ok but Frankercy boyfriends in the kitchen. Literally EVERYONE comes to their Christmas parties (or any party for that matter) because the food is SO. FUCKING. GOOD.

oh my god this is so real and true

  • they have dinner parties
  • DINNER PARTIES
  • like with wine and cheese
  • oh my god oh my god why are they like this can you even believe
  • they have matching aprons
  • and frank sets the table while percy cooks
  • and they have like really good appetizers and hors d’oevours (or however the fuck you spell that, frank probably knows alskdj;lakfja)
  • they’re such good hosts like it’s ridiculous
  • and like their friends are always so excited when they invite them over
  • i have a very clear image in my head of annabeth in a black cocktail dress clinking wine glasses with frank idk
  • ugh and like there’s jazz playing in the background or something oh my god
  • frank is such a good host percy’s always like “…we have seen each other covered in fifteen different types of monster slime and blood at the same time, is all this really necessary” and frank just tsks and is like “um hello that’s what makes this necessary”
Magickal Uses for Hawthorn

Planetary Association: Mars

Element; Fire

Gender: Masculine

A Druid sacred tree, this deciduous, thorny shrub has serrated, lobed leaves, dense white flower clusters in late spring, and red false fruits (haws). The flowers consist of five white petals, sacred to the Goddess. 

Hawthorn was formerly regarded as sacred, with the belief that it was used to create the Crown of Thorns that was said to be placed upon Christ`s brow. During World War I, young Hawthorn leaves were used as substitutes for tea and tobacco, and the seeds were ground in place of coffee. 

Hawthorn has long been used to increase fertility. Because of this power it is incorporated into weddings, especially those performed in the spring. Call on the Goddess Áine or the Goddess Brigit while holding a hawthorn branch or wand of hawthorn to increase fertility.

Keep reading

  • Patrick Rothfuss: Sorry guys but Book 3 isn't going to be out this year, best come to terms with it now.
  • George RR Martin: Yeah, Winds of Winter isn't looking likely either.
  • Brandon Sanderson: Well it's an incomplete list but I'm currently working on these fifteen books covering eight distinct universes and twelve planets three of them will probably be released this year and at least two in 2016, I'll keep you guys updated though. Also I'm touring so come to a signing!
2

paramore covered fifteen magazines in 2013 and received dozens of features worldwide.

Nice Chaps

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: T, Word Count: 1005
Halloween, Costumes, Human AU, Deputy Derek, POV Stiles

Read on AO3

(For Day 5 of my 13 Days of Halloween & for @sterekweek2016​ Day 1: Scene Stealer (very loosely inspired by the costume part in Bridget Jones’ Diary))

Fuck.

This cannot be happening to him.

Of course it’s happening to him. Who else could this possibly happen to?

Stiles consider ducking into the bathroom or finding a supply closet, hide there for the rest of the night. He could also run back to his car and drive back home. His apartment is only a couple blocks away from the recreation centre where the Sheriff’s Department is holding its Halloween party, he could be hiding under the covers within fifteen minutes.

Technically, only employees and their partners are invited to this, but Stiles has been helping with organizing the Halloween party since he was eighteen. And with the hours he spends at the station, he likes to consider himself an honorary deputy. Even if his dad disagrees.

A sharp whistle sounds through the air, quickly followed by others. Well, they’ve seen him. If he runs now, he’ll be branded a coward, which will invite far worse jokes than if he stays.

‘Stiles,’ his dad says, breaking loose from the small crowd that has gathered to watch Stiles’ entrance. Stiles has only been here ten seconds and his dad already looks like he wants to bang his head against the wall. ‘Please tell me you didn’t get my message.’

‘Obviously,’ Stiles hisses. ‘I thought there was supposed to be a theme.’

Keep reading

“PPPPPRT, open your mouth, dear, the Shinra pudding helicopter needs to land. SOLDIERs gotta eat. Ppppprt-”

“That’s-" 

The spoon was shoved between his lips. The mildly chemical taste of vanilla pudding exploded in his mouth.

That’s not how a helicopter sounds, he had wanted to say.

"Pppppprt this helicopter wants to land too!” The nurse in front of him scraped the spoon over the bottom of the near-empty plastic bowl and then lift it.

Sephiroth wondered what her white uniform would look like when stained with strawberry sauce. With her on her back, eyes bulging out as she stared at the ceiling, gurling on more sauce.

A collegue of hers passed by, Jorgen, who was in charge and had a mean black frown: “For the love of god,” he said, and Sephiroth looked up at the word god, “Bella, don’t treat him like that.”

Bella shrugged. She brought the spoon to Sephiroth face with the speed of an oncoming train. 

Sephiroth opened his mouth.

“He responds better when I make the  noises.”

“The noises are fine. Just don’t confirm his ideas. The patient 012 is here to get better, not to deepen his identity crisis.”

“Huh,” Bella said. “Of course." 

When Jorgen had passed, she looked over his shoulder as he knelt by Patient 010 to admire the completed puzzle of…. what seemed to be the Shin-Ra logo. 500 pieces.

Sephiroth smirked, easy, he thought. He could do the 2000 pieces puzzle of the logo!

Bella leaned closer to him, "Open your mouth last bite” she said, and held up a spoonful of pudding  Sephiroth knew was a layer covering fifteen different pills  

“I know who you really are,” Bella whispered. She whispered it every day to all the Sephiroth during dinner. But as she looked at him expectantly with her big brown eyes Sephiroth coulld see she didn’t believe it. Neither did he. But he opened his mouth and bit the pudding off the spoon, because he needed to believe it

Patient 012 thought he’d been in the lifestream when a premature Omega was triggered and then silenced. He thought the Lifestream had spit him out, where he’d been drifting in the sea and hauled up by fishermen like some whale. Then when he’d said his name, they’d wrestled him to the ground, tied him up, brought him here. It had taken him a few days to lose the smell of fish.
Jorgen had told him he probably was a fisherman too, had probably hit his head and fallen overboard, his claim wasn’t strong.

Patient 003 said he’d went out to find his friends Genesis and Angeal, gotten lost in Wutai, and spent some time alone there until ninjas discovered his fortress and poisoned him with various bug-poisons. Shin-Ra had seized him before he could’ve been executed, which was an viable claim to being Sephiroth.

Patient 007 was cruel, and as insane as the others. He was the one that needed restraints most. After official-Sephiroth’s fright against Cl-….against… against someone, he’d used Materia to shoot an Airship out of the sky, then pointed his sword at the survivors. Those terrorists had overpowered him easily because he’d been defeated once already. 
That was an equally viable claim to being Sephiroth.

The staff wasn’t fond of having twelve Sephiroth around. Pros were that they all responded to the same name and all wanted silver shampoo, cons were that they quarrelled and sometimes fought over the strangest things - how Sephiroth held his sword (“Put that chair down!”) or how he combed his hair, down-up or up-down (“Give me that fork! Blimey how did you get that!”). 

They were supposed to sleep for eight hours each night, which everyone but Patient 004 and Patient 012 didn’t. When the staff noticed, they’d be drugged. But the drugs didn’t work for 012. During the day, Patient 005 said she always kept her eyes closed while lying awake, so she’d at least ditch getting pricked with the syringe.

Around Christmas, a Professor Hojo visited and handed out edible masamune candy. Patient 012 didn’t think he looked much like the real Hojo, but 009 and 008 were convinced their Professor had returned. And what did 012, a poor fisherman who hit his head, know of Shin-Ra’s finest?

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okay you guys. i messed up, but i just wanted to get this on here for divergentgrl22, because she loves this.


also for my frans: yourhappycandylove seleniftie taylorkeepdancing west-coast-taylor thismomlovestaylorswift heardinthesilence tennisballer09 and new friends: dreamswiftdreams, swiftymama86 wanderingswiftie (who made me feel a whole lot better about singing)

 sorry i look unhappy, im not. my eyes are so dry from zero sleep. also the guitar is right handed, and im not. it’s upside down…but that wont stop me from trying.


thank you if you do watch. it means alot.

and always: taylorswift