for all the shade he's been casting

If Music Be The Food Of Love

I’ve never written anything before, so be gentle with me! But I was thinking about Outlander and the little things that make up our lives everyday that Claire (or myself) would miss when she fell through the stones. For me, I think the thing I would miss most is music. :) I think this little moment takes place just before Jamie and Claire leave Lallybroch in Dragonfly in Amber to go visit Lord Lovat. Read, enjoy, give me some feedback!

@bonnie-wee-swordsman, @writtenthroughtime, @lenny9987, @gotham-ruaidh, @takemeawaytocamelot, @westerhos, @dingbatland would love if you would read! If you like it, reblog? :)

The bright lights blinded Claire to all but the first rows of onlooking audience members. She stood tall and took a deep, calming breath. The conductor raised his arms, and as one they began. She felt herself dissolve into the choir, as though they shared one mind for the space of the song. She could feel the deep, rumbling tones of the bass line, accompanied by the light, fluttering notes from the soprano section. And in the center of the intonations, she found the place where she belonged, where she fit perfectly.

The harmony line danced around the melody, jumping to meet it and then darting away. She knew this song well, had sung it a hundred times in rehearsal. While she sang, she lost herself in the rolling waves of music. She couldn’t tell where her voice ended and the rest of the choir began. As the song swelled into a crescendo around her, she felt whole. She could feel the song gently caress her, wrap it’s arms around her as though it were a physical being, holding her tight and safe.  

She awoke with the strains of the song just outside of her conscious hearing. If she concentrated she could almost feel the perfect locking in of the last chord. A chord that was not only pleasing to the ear, but somehow made the heart feel whole. The dancing lines of melody and harmony, dipping and weaving together in a constant exchange. An expression of emotion so much stronger than mere words or actions. But now she couldn’t recall the flowing melody that flitted around the edges of her brain. She couldn’t share the simple song that was pulsing through her veins. The knowledge of that nearly crushed her. Left her lonelier for her own time than she had been in a long, long time.

Why hadn’t she paid attention more to the small details that comprised her life before? How could she have taken for granted the simplicity of written music? She could never reproduce the notes and chords of the compositions she longed to hear, that had not even been written yet. And even if she could somehow replicate those songs, how would she play them? She had no piano, no instrument other than her own singular voice. There was a good chance she would never again hear the perfection of a chord that holds your soul and then releases it just as quickly.

She closed her eyes and let the waves of bitter longing wash over her. She would allow herself this small moment of remembrance for her time before coming back to reality. Reaching over, she felt Jamie, warm and strong, lying beside her. She could live with the lost memories of music so long she had him beside her.

Claire’s touch on his arm woke Jamie. He looked over at his wife, a sleepy smile on his face. He reached over, caressing her face with his large, callous hands.

“What are ye thinkin’ about, mo nighean donn? Ye have that far off look in yer eyes. Where are ye?” Claire looked down, not wanting to meeting his eyes. She sat up in their bed, stretching the sleepiness from her limbs.

“It was just a dream, from before. It’s nothing important.” Sitting up with her, Jamie stroked her back. She leaned into his touch, wanting the comfort of something familiar and solid.

“Sassenach, every thought ye have is important to me.” He turned to hold her chin in his hands, forcing her eyes to look at him. “Please, tell me what’s causing that troublin’ look in yer eyes. Let me help ye.”

Claire looked deep into her husband’s slanted blue eyes. Telling him would not bring back the music she dreamt of. And even if it did, Jamie could not hear the music she wanted to share with him so much. He could understand the fact that there was music playing, but he couldn’t make sense of the sounds. The only music Jamie could hear at all was the rhythmic beating of a drum. But still, Jamie understood the words and meaning of the music, even if he could not make sense of the scales that were being played.

Jamie’s hand moved from her cheek down to hold her hand between his, comfort flowing from his touch. Her eyes followed the motion, looking at her hand in his.

“It’s silly really. Just a dream.” She paused, wondering if that was enough of an explanation. Jamie held her gaze, waiting for her to continue. Claire took a deep breath, going on.

“I was dreaming about music. I was on stage, singing with the choral group I was a part of, back in my time. We were performing a song we had sung a million times in rehearsal, a song that I loved. The dream was so real, I could feel the music, could feel the resonance in my chest. It was perfect. I woke up, and I couldn’t remember how the song went. I’m thinking about it now, and I still can’t recall it.” She was getting worked up, and a single tear slid down her cheek as she said “And I can’t ask anyone to help me think of it, because the song hasn’t been written yet here in this time. And even if I could figure out the name of the song, how could I replicate it? I’m just me, how could I replicate harmony?”

She kept her gaze down, feeling silly that she was so emotional about something that was so selfish. What could music do to help stop Bonnie Prince Charlie and the disaster that would be Culloden? Jamie brought one hand up to wipe away the tears that now spilled freely from her eyes.

“Sassenach, I’d no idea -” Claire gently pulled her hand away from him, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets as she rose from the bed. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, feeling selfish about wanting something that was so clearly not a necessity. They were here in Lallybroch, getting ready to march with the soldiers, and all she could think about was wanting to hear a song.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I am crying over something so simple.” She walked out of their room quickly, going outside to feel the crisp morning air on her skin and to avoid any more questions.  

Jamie watched her go. He ached to fill that void for her. She had given up so much for him, and never once complained. Claire truly was an amazing woman. He wanted to give her a fraction of what she had given him: love, support, and comfort. He would give her anything, as he had vowed those years ago at their wedding ceremony. Yet music…the one thing he could not physically bring to her himself. He cursed the day he had been struck in the head, knocking the ability to hear and understand music out of his head.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He may not be able to recreate the sounds she remembered, but he could give her something else. He dressed quickly in his plaid, pulled on his boots, and raced to the stables to get a horse. As he rode, he made a list in his head of the houses he needed to visit, hoping everything would fall into place by evening.


Claire stayed outside most of the day, keeping her distance from the other residence of Lallybroch. She didn’t want her melancholy mood to rub off onto anyone else. She worked in the garden, collecting herbs and plants that she would need to treat the ailments of the soldiers as they traveled. As she worked, she hummed a simple children’s song to herself. It bothered her that she couldn’t hum the song from her dream. Why was she still thinking about music and songs in a time like this?

Looking up, Claire saw Jamie striding towards her. The setting sun cast his hair in a shade of deep auburn, with tinges of gold and copper sprinkled throughout. Claire smiled as arrived at her side and held his hand out for her.

“Ye’ve been working mighty hard out here today Sassenach. It’s time for supper, no?”

“I suppose you’re right. I am rather hungry.”

Leading her towards the house on his arm, Jamie seemed to have an excited energy about him. Usually, he was calm and collected, especially here at his home in Lallybroch. Claire wondered what he could have been up to all day. Maybe he had been working on plans to move his men to Lord Lovat’s land with Murtaugh.

As they rounded the final turn from the garden to Lallybroch, Claire came to a complete stop. Standing on the steps of the house were a dozen men in formation, all dressed in full Highland Scots regalia. Each man held a bagpipe in his arms waiting to play. Leading her forward, Jamie gave the men a signal, and they began to play.

(Play song here and continue reading for the full effect!)

Claire felt as though she were floating forward towards to music, the familiar tune of Amazing Grace pulling her closer. As she got close enough to see the faces of the men, she noticed she recognized them. These were the men Jamie would be traveling with to Lord Lovat’s lands. As her gaze drifted to the men on the end, she was surprised to see Murtaugh standing with the men, bagpipe in hand, playing with all the gusto he could muster.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Jamie handed her his handkerchief, wrapping his arms around her from behind and settling his head in the crook of her neck and slowly rocking her back and forth. Claire closed her eyes, letting the song become burned into her memory. When the song finally came to an end, she applauded loudly, and went up to each of the men to thank them.

As the men began to walk back towards their homes, Jamie shook each of their hands in thanks. As Murtaugh passed her, Claire gave him the warmest embrace she had ever given the man. She never imaged that Murtaugh could play the bagpipes, let alone play them so well. When all the men had all left, Claire turned to Jamie, embracing him as tightly as she could.

“Jamie, I can’t believe you put this together for me.” She said into his chest.

“Sassenach,” he said, pulling away to look down into her eyes. “Yer heart is my heart. Whatever it is ye want, if it is in my power to give it to ye, I’ll see it done.” He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Now, shall we see about that supper?”

She smiled, placed her hand in his arm, and together they walked into the house.

P.S. - I know the song not historically accurate and wouldn’t technically be written until 1779, but it felt right here. :)

anonymous asked:

I've been reading The Scottish Prisoner over the past few days and I really enjoyed the parts with Jamie and Willie. Men + babies will be the death of me and makes me kinda super mad that DG didn't have Jamie see Willie grow up. Do you think they will include some of it in S3?

I really hope they do. There are some better Jamie and Willie scenes in The Scottish Prisoner than there are in Voyager. And it is one of the bright spots in the 20 years when Jamie lives without Claire. One of my favorites is Jamie introducing Willie to the horses and remember his father doing the same with him. 

Relief washed through him, as the wide eyes stared into his face. His guilty conscience had convinced him that William was an exact small replica of himself, whose resemblance would be noted at once by anyone who saw them together. But William’s round face and snub nose bore not the slightest likeness to his own features. While the child’s eyes could be called blue, they were pale, an indeterminate shade between gray and blue, the color of a clouded sky. 

That was all he had time to take in, as he turned without hesitation to settle the little boy on the horse’s back. As he guided the chubby hands to grasp the saddle’s edge, though, talking in a conversational tone that soothed horse and child together, he saw that William’s hair was—thank God!—not at all red. A soft middling brown, cut in a pudding-bowl style like one of Cromwell’s Roundhead soldiers. True, there was a reddish cast to it in the sunlight, but, after all, Geneva’s hair had been a rich chestnut. 

He looks like his mother, he thought, and sent a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving toward the Blessed Virgin. 

“Now, then, Willie,” said Lord Dunsany, patting the boy’s back. “Just you hold on tight. MacKenzie will take you round the paddock.” 

Willie looked very dubious at this proposal, and his chin drew back into the neck of his smock. “Mo!” he said, and, letting go the saddle, swung his fat little leg awkwardly to the rear, plainly intending to get off, though the ground was some feet below him. 

Jamie grabbed him before he could fall. 

“Mo!” Willie repeated, struggling to get down. “Momomomomo!” 

“He means ‘no,’ ” the nurse murmured, not displeased, and reached for the boy. “I said he was too young. Here, poppet, you come to Nanny Elspeth. We’ll go back to the nursery and have our nice tea.” 

“Mo!” Willie said shrilly, and capriciously flung himself round, burrowing into Jamie’s chest. 

“Now, now,” his grandfather soothed, reaching for him. “Come to me, lad, we’ll go and—” 


Jamie put a hand over the child’s mouth, stilling the racket momentarily. 

“We’ll go and speak to the horses, aye?” he said firmly, and hoisted the child up onto his shoulders before Willie could make up his mind to shriek some more. Diverted by this splendid new perch, Willie crowed and grabbed Jamie’s hair. Not waiting to hear any objections, Jamie took hold of the chubby knees wrapped round his ears and headed for the stable. 

“Now, this sweet auld lad is Deacon,” he said, squatting down to bring Willie to eye level with the old gelding, who lifted his nose, nostrils flaring with interest. “We call him Deke. Can ye say that? Deke?” 

Willie squealed and pulled on Jamie’s hair but didn’t jerk away, and after a moment, urged on by his grandfather, put out a hand and ventured a hasty pat. “Deke,” he said, and laughed, charmed. “Deke!” 

Jamie was careful to visit only those horses of age and temperament to deal well with a two-year-old child, but he was pleased—as was Lord Dunsany—to see that William wasn’t afraid of the enormous animals. Jamie kept as careful an eye on the old man as he did on the child; his lordship’s color was bad, his hands skeletal, and Jamie could hear the air whistle in his lungs when he breathed. In spite of everything, he rather liked Dunsany and hoped the baronet wasn’t about to die in the stable aisle. 

“Oh, there’s my lovely Phil,” said Dunsany, breaking into a smile as they came up to one of the loose boxes. At his voice, Philemon, a beautiful eight-year-old dark bay, lifted his head and gazed at them for a moment with a soft-lashed, open look before putting his head down again, nibbling up some spilled oats from the floor. 

Dunsany fumbled with the latch, and Jamie hastily reached to open the door. The horse didn’t object to their coming into the box, merely shifting his huge rump a bit to one side, tail swishing. 

“Now, ye must never go behind a horse,” Jamie told William. “If ye startle them, they might kick, aye?” The little boy’s soft chestnut hair whorled up in a cowlick at his crown. He nodded solemnly but then struggled to get down. 

Jamie glanced at Dunsany, who nodded, then he set William carefully on the floor, ready to snatch him up again if he shrieked or made a rumpus. But William stood stock still, mouth a little open, watching in fascination as the huge head came close to him, soft lips nibbling at the grain, and with the oddest sense of dislocation, Jamie suddenly felt himself on the floor of a stable, hearing the deep slobbering crunch of a horse’s chewing just beside him, seeing the huge, glassy hooves, smelling hay and oats and the wonderful pungent scent of the horse’s warm hide. There had been the feeling of someone behind him, he’d been aware of the man’s big legs in their woolen hose and he heard his father laugh and say something above him, but all he’d had eyes for was the horse, that massive, beautiful, gentle creature, so amazing that he’d wanted to embrace it. 

William did embrace it. Entranced, he toddled forward and hugged Philemon’s head in an access of pure love. The horse’s long-lashed eyes widened in surprise and he blew out air through his nose, ruffling the child’s clothes, but did no more than bob his head a bit, lifting Willie a few inches into the air, then setting him gently down as he resumed his eating. 

William laughed, a giggle of pure delight, and Jamie and Lord Dunsany looked at each other and smiled, then glanced aside, each embarrassed. 

Later, Jamie watched them go, William insisting upon walking, his grandfather limping behind the sturdy little form like an aged black crane, leaning heavily on his walking stick, the two of them washed in the pale gold of the soft spring sun.

Tales of Berseria Analysis - Laphicet (Phi)’s and Eizen’s character arcs - Coexistence and Romanticism.

Three and counting.

I don’t have problem with child characters (And when I talk about child characters, I mean genuine child characters, no adults or teenagers looking like children or immortal children or characters that age different and looks like child but in reality are legally adults…they are a complete different subject)…conceptually. I don’t like when they are used as plot devices, I don’t like when they are pointless and I specially dislike when they behave like fucking adults without a motive. 

…Therefore you may suppose that I really like Elise from Xillia 

…and you would be right reader, I love her, she is a great character and Teepo would be the best Tales mascot if not for Rollo…

(…He is a god in comparison with other anime (Videogame) mascots…)

But if you want to have a child character, with clear motives, good development, a meaningful arc, etc. I say go for it, and make it great…and Laphicet (Phi) is indeed great.

First of all, he is adorable, he can cast Indignation and he also is the middle-ground between emotion and reason that the game wants to reach.

If Eleanor is the constant inner-conflict between the ideas, Phi would be their natural coexistence.

Phi starts as blank page, a puppet just referred as Number 2 and a representation of the Malakin subdue for the Abbey, then he is “taken” from Teresa and joins for the party and then…he just start to learn, to grow, to know these flawed people…and even if he cannot understand the totality of each one, he can acknowledge the inner goodness that he sees in each one of them. And in that matter, we as the players get to know a lot more of the cast trough his interaction with him (Eleanor also serves to this purpose but is with Phi that we get to know the best of the party because…). He is an adorable, cute and innocent child and the party, conscientiously or not, TRIES (and I emphasize the tries, because wanting it or not, the Menagerie is still the Menagerie and there is still conflict here, these most notorious been Velvet’s seen him as a replace for her brother, that gets resolve in a really heartwarming scene, I loved that scene… or Rokuro intent to kill him during the encounter with Kurogane) to be the best to him, teaching him, explaining and in reward we, and Phi, have this amazing little insiders for each one of the party members; Velvet’s first redeemable traits are shown us thanks to her interactions with Phi, seen Rokuro and Eizen playing the wiser older brothers is hilarious, Am I right, Rhinostragros? But it also let see us that Rokuro and Eizen have a genuine concern about been good examples for Phi with they “Don’t be like us” and fuck it, some of the first shades to Magilou’s true character are through her interaction with Phi. And in the end he takes the best all of this knowledge and experiences, this great and epic journey, and grows thanks to that travel.

He is the moral compass of these less than perfect people (Eleanor also tries to play this role, although with less success than Phi) and thanks to him we get to know the better of them.

He is also the best developed character in the cast and seen him grow from this helpless and quiet child to this determined badass who will fight for what he thinks is right (And been honest, leaving Magilou’s monologues to Melchior, he has the best scenes in the game)

“Eat my arm! I don’t care just leave me the other one! I need It to clobber the jerk who made my Velvet cry!”)

It is just fucking amazing.

In regard as his ending as Maotelus (And his eventual fate in Zestiria)…Is fitting. This kid that was nourished for this amazing journey with Velvet and the Menagerie, for all of these different experiences, points of views and teachings…He grows assimilating both ideologies and now he stands as the ideal manifestation (With Eleanor been the practical) of the healthy coexistence of reason and emotion…and the literal hope to reach Velvet’s endless and idyllic dream, …it gets the better of me in the same way that Velvet does and it’s just a beautiful ending for Phi’s arc and the game.

And that was the four…Uff…uff…you know what they say about pointless worries…


Eizen is awesome; he has the height, the posture, the voice, the long coat, the quotes, the family connections, the dorkiness, the “Perfect Mayhem” one of the most kickass designs of the franchise, his character screams “I’m fucking badass”

…Badass indeed…

…he is also one of the most interesting members of the cast.

Eizen is 1000 years old Malak afflicted for The Reaper’s curse which cause misfortune to the people that surrounds him, he is also a pirate, the second mate of The Aifread’s pirates, who ends joining Velvet quest in order to seek pass through one of the Abbey’s fortress and later for the possibility to find clues of the missing Captain Aifread whose disappearance maybe connected with one of the highest ranks of the Abbey.

Eizen is pirate, a ruthless thief, a man with little regards for the rules of the Abbey or the Kingdom, someone who has no moral compass other than his own convictions, an intrepid and dorkish adventurer who travels the eleven seas for the pure joy of doing it, loyal to his crew, to his captain, and his creed…

Wait a minute…He is still a bad guy, right?…

Let me see, thief? Check. Inclination to punching people? Check. Does business with morally questionable people? Check….oh he is also a second in command of a well knowing pirate crew…double check …then why he still looks like he could be one the good pirate characters in One Piece?…Well because that is the point.

In the same way that One Piece (Or the first Pirates of the Caribbean) explore a heavy romanticize vision of what a pirate is, Eizen is the romanticize vision of what a life led by emotions is. His arc doesn’t deal with themes like obsession or blindness or about losing yourself in your own overwhelming emotions (through there is something like that in regard to his arc during the Zaveid side quest, but is played in a different manner but don’t worry we’ll get there) like Rokuro’s or Velvet’s. No, his arc revolve about why emotions are so important for us and how following our own path, our own believes, is the only way to live our own life to the fullest, and in that regard he is the biggest contrast with the oppressive ways of the Abbey.

Eizen is someone that live adventures with his friends, he travels to exotic places, he doesn’t answer to anyone, a man that values his freewill above anything else and that will not letting that anything or anyone take it away from him, but as I said in the begging he’s not an auto-destructive person nor an anarchist, he plays the role of the lovable rogue (Despite that we actually don’t see much of thesem because the game isn’t about the adventures of Eizen and Benwick in the Van Eltia) with a stoic attitude and tough demeanor but also with a heart of gold a dork and in that regard he is the most enjoyable and funny member of the party (Aside for certain witch)…he is the most open to express his appreciation for the group aside for Phi, maybe, his completely honest fanboy rants about history or relics or just expressing his more pure inner feelings about his ways of life…He is amazing…Live hard and day young, Am I right, Eizen?… but in that regard, how many people have the raw muscle to decide their own fate? But even more important than that. Do you have it, Eizen?

Eizen has a role in the narrative and goal in the game, but they are just little bifurcations in a much greater story about Eizen fighting his own fate.

His natural affinity as an earth Malak, The Reaper curse, the laws of the Abbey, the Malevolence that slowly has started to overcome him and even the event of the game are no more than other rock blocking his way to…well, nothing. Eizen journey is just an endless resistance test that will have an abrupt end (In the context of the life spam of Malikhim/Seraphim), a romantic one for sure, fighting for the sake of the word against a future Lord of Calamity, and later, after becoming a dragon, killed as a way of saving him and putting him to rest of his madness state, but an end after all.

Eizen’s story is one of a man against the world, an endless path which mere travel through him symbolize the quest of men for freedom in his lives…Eizen is the coolest, and he was made to be the coolest, a romantic hero who has been throw it in a cynical story about clashing ideas as one of the idealist and inspirational parts of the emotion side…and again he does amazing in his job.

Part 1: Tales Series Retrospective

Part 2: The Elements of a Wonderfull Game

Part 3: Velvet’s character arc - Blindness and toxicity

Part 4: Rokuro’s and Eleanor’s character arc - Obsession and Conflict.

Part 6: Magilou’s character arc - Contradictions.

The White Princess: Henry VII [ISTP]

OFFICIAL TYPING by Charity / the Mod

Introverted Thinking (Ti): Henry is detached and realistic in his approach to the throne; he tends to prioritize “rational” methods all else; he is not afraid to deal harshly with traitors, nor secure his throne through whatever means he deems necessary. His analytical nature makes it hard for others to read him, or understand his thought process; he prefers to think in secret, then act, instead of consult others on what steps to take. His rationality is not always practical, though (his need to “test Elizabeth’s fertility” is counter-productive to the legitimacy of their heirs).

Extroverted Sensing (Se): His focus is more on the present than its possibilities; Henry prefers to do things himself, to be involved in the action, and to confront problems head-on. He struggles in how to balance his natural aggressive tendencies with a desire to “control” his environment. Henry frequently takes new approaches to everything, with very little faith in outdated systems or traditional beliefs; his treatment of Elizabeth of York, his intense physical relationship with her (despite a lack of emotional connection), and his arrest of her mother show a tendency toward knee-jerk, based-in-the-moment reactions.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): He is afraid of what the future holds; Henry wants to protect it. He’s not nearly as capable of long-term thinking as his mother, and tends toward more negative, singular conclusions… that are sometimes off, and sometimes right on point. Henry speculates (correctly) that Elizabeth Woodville is scheming against him and Lizzie is going behind his back, but he assumes she is not on his side, even after she tells him several times that he has her support.

Extroverted Feeling (Fe): Oh, boy. Henry rails against Lizzie’s affair with her uncle, within several people’s hearing; he announces her premarital pregnancy with delight, when it should be a court secret; he blithely goes along with whatever his mother decides is the right thing to do, without any private moral conscience… and then, over time, shows his deep insecurities and need for external validation. He mourns that Lizzie can never love him, he shows and talks about his feelings toward her, her family, and their children. Henry can have an amiable, good natured, even charismatic side – and he can also deliberately set out to antagonize others and hurt their feelings (when Lizzie snarls at him over how “quick” he was in their first encounter, he counter-attacks with thoughts of her sister).

Note: Yup. Gotta say it. This Henry isn’t much like the real one, except both were known for their fear of betrayal; the real one had every reason to be suspicious and paranoid, given the amount of nobility that betrayed him over the years in an attempt to put a York back on the throne.

The REAL Henry VII was an ISTJ, a meticulous, intelligent, and logical man who would find the rationality behind this Henry’s decisions absolutely absurd from a Te standpoint; “testing” Lizzie’s fertility is unnecessary and dangerous – first, if he really does think she’s had a long-standing affair with her uncle, and has never had a child, she’s proven infertile; second, all he has to do is look at her mother’s enormous family, and the enormous families of her mother’s siblings to realize the odds are in her favor she’s going to have a ton of kids (Si + Te); third, any child conceived before marriage is illegitimate in the eyes of the Church of the period, and given his precarious hold on the throne, Henry needs all the religious support he can get. Thus, it’s unlikely the real Henry would have been dumb enough, from a religious and political perspective, to sleep with the future queen of England before the wedding, much less smear her name all over the court as “used goods.”

Extroverted Thinking… thinks about these things and in these terms. This isn’t the character’s fault; it’s the irrational writing’s fault. But still. UGH.

I will say this, to dissuade the Henry-haters from casting shade on the historical Henry: unlike this series depicts, Elizabeth of York and Henry appeared to have a healthy, stable, and loving relationship – and her death almost killed him from grief. It weakened him so much his ongoing battle with consumption nearly won. I don’t think the miniseries will repeat the book’s “he cheated on her" subplot, but that’s not true either. Even if he didn’t love her (which I think he did) enough to stay faithful, SiTe would think: Gosh, I can’t risk having little bastards running around threatening my children’s line of succession now can I?

There’s plenty of reasons to “dislike” Henry VII, based in his miserly attitude late in life and his careless treatment of Katharine of Aragon; there’s no need to slap the slanderous and false accusation of “rapist” on top of him and make him a passive, childish mamma’s boy. Still, in comparison to what the series did to his mother, I guess he got off easy. :P

Gabriel’s Wings

(gif is not mine)

Title: Gabriel’s Wings

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word count: 1,268

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: It’s Sweet Treat Saturday!! I hope you guys enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much!! <3 This was requested by @piertotumlocomotor22: Can I request a Gabriel fic where the reader is cold so Gabriel wraps his wings around them?

It was a cold winter night and you were stuck in your car.  It was just your luck that your car would break down in the middle of nowhere on a cold night.  The gusts of wind slightly rocked your parked car.  The temperature of the car was dropping at a moderate rate.  You didn’t even have a blanket to keep you warm.  You were unprepared for this kind of situation.  

You shivered, hugging your arms around your chest.  Your teeth started to chatter as you let out a long sigh.  You weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for Sam and Dean to come to your rescue.  

There was a sudden knock on your car window.  It startled you, making you flinch in your seat.  You were relieved to see a familiar face.  You could have had a run in with anyone or anything, but here Gabriel was, outside your car door.  

Keep reading

Ignored pt 4

Sirius Black x Reader   Part 1   Part 2    Part 3    Part 4 (Here)   Part 5/End

______= Your name

(L/N)= Your last name

Summary: Sirius completely ignores your entire existence and when he notices you alone in your train car, after 6 years, he finally starts talking to you. But doesn’t know who you are until after you tell him. Sirius had sort of apologized but messed up. after you and Sirius were basically forced to be together you find that he’s not as bad as you once thought. This chapter you both get a bit closer and realize certain feelings

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines

It’s been a month into the school year and things were going okay, something weird has been happening these last few days of the month, however.

Sirius and his friends aren’t in class.

They haven’t been for about a few days now, but when I told Dumbledore my concerns, he just waved it off and switched the topic to something else.

I decided they were probably ditching or something and took notes for them in all the classes I had with them. Which were most of them.

But it’s been a few days and I’m quite distressed. Perhaps something happened to them? With the War and everything going on. On the other hand, the school grounds do contain an extended array of protection spells, there’s no way someone dangerous could get in here and hurt them.


I’m sitting in the common rooms, there’s no one else up, I’m pretty sure it’s fairly late in the night. It’s also a Saturday or perhaps Sunday depending the time. I’m waiting to see if any of the missing boys appear from their bedroom. And do my homework as well as copy notes for each one of them to pass the time.

My eyes droop with the lack of sleep having done the same thing all week, every time I’ve always fallen asleep before they appear if they appear at all. This time, however, I am determined to catch them. To make sure they haven’t gotten themselves killed.

With that, I find extra energy to keep my eyelids open and my handwriting.

They’ve been kind to me all month, actually seeking me out for nothing but to hang out with me. At first, it was tiresome, they finding me in the library and causing a ruckus, distracting me from my studies. I’d sit in the halls and they’d sidle up next to me, steal my book and or just ask me about it.

Especially Sirius, he’d find any excuse to make conversation, but James would too, more about Lily, however. Remus would actually understand what I’m saying in the classes and have answers to any questions I’d have. Sparking a conversation on the topic, leaving both of us smiling. Peter was a quieter one, he usually just followed up James or Sirius sometimes Remus with one of his own comments or to repeat theirs in his own words. But one day I got him alone, the others who knows where and got an actual conversation from him. About house elves but hey, you get what you get.

I don’t know why but that boy gives me a strange vibe.

The days continued like that, I learned from them, more than I could if I was on the sidelines like I was before.

Like how Sirius cares deeply for his brother, despite him being in Gryffindor and Regulus in Slytherin. Another Gryffindor was talking to their Hufflepuff friend and started to talk bad about the Black family, Sirius didn’t mind until they brought up Regulus’ name. Let’s just say, the two had to make a trip to the infirmary.

I also learned that Remus doesn’t believe in himself. He always seems like the kind of guy who would always know the answer, which is true. But he doesn’t think he deserves it. Any of it, he doesn’t really understand why his friends are always there for him. Yet they are.

And James, Oh James.

I learned that he questions a lot of things.

Like his name.

“Why is it James if there’s only one of me. Shouldn’t it be Jame? But that sounds weird. Is it because I’ve been hearing it as James all my life? Should I have you all call me Jame from now one?”

“Mr. Potter, please be quiet during a quiz,” McGonagall says firmly.

“But this is a Serious question.”

“No, I’m Sirius.” The two teens high fived before letting out a laugh-

A yawn escapes my lips, cutting me out of my memory. A quick look at a clock determined that it was in fact past midnight. Later then I’ve ever been able to make it. I let out a sigh and decided I should just retire to my room now.


What was that?

A sound, it was faint but still there. Was that a laugh? It’s coming from the portrait entrance.

I stood, my wand ready in my hands, a hex on the tip of my tongue. The painting swung open, the Fat Lady grumbled angrily.

One second there was nothing there, then all of the sudden four figures stood in the entrance, I almost cast a hex at the one closest to me when he started speaking.

And I recognized his voice.

“Sirius?” I lowered my wand and took a step back.

The talking stopped and they looked at each other than to me, it must have been a trick of the light from the fireplace but I could swear Sirius’ face turned a shade of red.

“______? W-what are you doing up this late at night?”

“I was copying notes for you guys, you’ve been gone for like a week. Are you okay?”

His smug smile is back, he takes a step forward towards me, his friends forgotten.

“Worried about me?”

I let out a sigh and rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. I turned and walked over to the couch and picked up the papers, sorting through them by subject.  “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Well, here you all go. I’m glad you’re fine. I’m going to bed.”

I turn back and hand them their papers, but when I got to Remus. I noticed his hands shaking and his skin was sickly pale. He avoided my eyes, took the papers and hurried off to the boy’s dormitories.

I turn to the others, they all avoided my eyes and stared at their notes with an exceeded amount interest that they don’t have.

“Oh.” Sirius looks at me, he recognizes the look on my face.

I piece it together. My hand was still hanging in the air, my gaze drifted to the ground. But something’s not right. I understand that the boys were out this whole week for Remus, but why?

I shook my head and looked up at the three remaining males, who were concerned and ready with some BS excuse for any questions I had. But I was too tired and it’s too late for that right now. I dropped my hand, shuffled over to my items and gathered them in my arms.

I started towards the girl’s dormitories, relieved that they weren’t killed nor hurt but a bit disappointed at their lack of explanation.

I heard an intake of breath, someone was making an effort to speak but I beat them to it.

“You should get some sleep, I bet you’re all very tired. Good night. Study hard tomorrow. You’ll need it. There’s a test coming up… And get Remus some chocolate. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Not waiting for their response I headed off to bed.

The next week went by tensely, they seemed to be waiting for something. Perhaps for me to ask some questions or something. But when I didn’t, they calmed down.

Then it was the first week of December and they were gone again.

I let out a sigh, first class of the day and no sign of them. Doesn’t help that it’s a project in Potions and I have no partner.

Goddamn, it Sirius. What are you guys doing? I hope it’s nothing dangerous.

I pulled out a piece of paper and started copying down notes again, deciding to make multiple copies later.

It was the same result with them, a week passes by and then they stumble in at 2 am, where I sat still multiplying notes. Remus in the same state as he was the first time I caught them.

Finally, it’s Christmas and they seem to have a pattern of disappearing for a week before coming back and Remus is sweaty and pale. It always happens towards the end of a month to the beginning of the next month. My confusion grows along with my worry for one of my longest and only friends. But still no explanation from them.

Students are leaving to go to their families for the break, my family is across the ocean at the moment so I don’t even bother packing. A few others in Gryffindor is staying. Sirius a couple First years and Fourth years.

James, Remus, and Peter are off visiting their family; Sirius was invited to go with James however Sirius stayed for some reason.

The first day of break passed by relatively slow, breakfast was broken down to a hand full of people, even some teachers were out for the break.

It passed, consisting of sitting and reading in the common rooms, hanging out with Sirius and visiting the teachers who had nowhere to go this Christmas.

It was lunch time a week into the break, we sat with Dumbledore, I sat with Sirius on my right and some first year on my left. When the headmaster decided to announce a party.

“I thought it clever of me to have a little get together with the few of us here. How does that sound? Good? Good. I’ll need to borrow your teachers for the time being. It’ll be on Saturday, six days from today. Hope to see your there! Dress nicely.”

After he sat back down, the table talk grew more frantic and excited. Sirius turned to me with a grin.

“I do hope there’s punch.” He commented. I elbowed him with a grin.


“Do you doubt my love for the stuff.”

I shake my head playfully before turning back to my food, but got distracted from it once again when Sirius started speaking once more.

“So uh… are you going?”

“Hm? To what.” I look at him, he seemed shy. Avoiding my eyes and fidgeting with his hands.

“The party.” He had to clear his throat, I supposed the liquid he drank was sticking to the back of his throat.

“Oh, I’m not entirely sure.” I look up and think about the plans I made for this week. “I suppose I will. As long as I’m not busy.”

Sirius let out a silent breath then nodded and looked back to his food, the topic didn’t get brought up between us till a couple days later.

“Hey, I’m not sure I can go to the party.” I walked beside Sirius, my arms held books from the library where I helped Madam Pince. Along with a cart of plants from the herbology teacher that Sirius and I were taking to Madam Pomfrey for medicine. I volunteered and Sirius was just helping.

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “Uh, why not?”

“I have too much to do from now till Saturday.”

“…” It was silent for a bit before Sirius came up with something to say. “Anything I can help with?”

I pause, stopping momentarily in the hallway surprise covering my features. Sirius stopped a few steps ahead of me and looked back with concern.

“Sirius Black, Asking to help. With work? Is the world ending?!” I duck, keeping a strong hold on my books in my arms while looking up.

“Oh ha ha.” He rolls his eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from forming.

I straighten and walk along side him again till we made it to the infirmary a few minutes later. We both stood outside the doors, I turned to Sirius. Shoved my arm full of books into his chest causing him to force out a breath, emptying his lungs in a matter of a few seconds. I turned to the tray we wheeled around full of the plants for the medicine, wrapped my hand around one handle then opened the door and entered the infirmary, Sirius walking behind me, his face red for some reason.

I hope he isn’t getting sick or anything.

I walked down the long white corridor, looking for Madam Pomfrey.

“Oh! Thank you, dear. I hope it wasn’t too much hassle.” The nurse seemingly appears out of nowhere, startling both me and Sirius.

Shaking myself out of my momentary fright I turn to her and offered her the cart shifting her attention to it.

“I do hope you plan on going to the party Albus is planning Saturday. It’d be a joy to see you there my dear.” The nurse spoke.

“I probably won’t. I’ll be too busy.”

“With what? It’s Christmas break, hang out with friends. Have a little fun. Oh .. hello Mr. Black.”

She acknowledges Sirius stiffly, Sirius nodded back. Avoiding eye contact. An awkward taste settled in the air.

“Oohhh kaay. Anyways. I should get going, I’m helping out Madam Pince in the library.”

“Yes yes alright, I’ll see you sometime I suppose.” She waved us away.

Once Sirius and I were out the door, I motioned for him to give me the books but he shook his head and kept holding them.

“I’ll carry them to the library.” He stated in a tone I couldn’t argue with, that being the only thing said the entire way to the library as well as in the library. Madam Pince wasn’t in there so we just put the books in the correct placing, leaving a note explaining that we had gone by.

It wasn’t until we made it back to the common rooms that he spoke again.

“So what do you need to do? I can help.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well. You’ve been working a lot lately. I think you deserve a break..” His face got strangely red and his voice steadily got softer till I had to lean forward to hear the last part.

“I-….. Fine. You can help.”

“What needs to be done.” He looked excited and ready to work.

“Nothing tonight” He looked dejected.

“What? But today’s Wednesday the party’s on Saturday. You said you had a lot to do, let’s get started now before it’s too late.”

“Oh look at you Mr. Good Decisions.” Sirius snickers “Besides, I can’t. That’s all that was planned for today. I start on the next thing tomorrow and it’s a three-day project by myself Sooo.”

“How long would it take if you weren’t alone?”

“… It’d cut the work time in half, so about a day and a half.”

“And You HAVE to start tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Cus the actual utensils don’t come in until tomorrow.”

“… What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

“To who?”

I stayed silent. He let out a sigh then stood.

“Fine…” When he waited for a bit but I didn’t move, he asked. “Well, you coming?”

“Hm? Where?”

“For supper.”

“Oh. Uh yeah.” The rest of the evening seemed to get more awkward, Sirius seemed to be agitated and annoyed about something. But every time I brought it up. He’d change the subject to something like Quidditch or just ignore the fact I had said anything at all. Night came, once we left to our rooms he hadn’t even said goodnight like usual. A feeling of guilt layered on the bottom of my stomach, my mind running a marathon of awful thoughts. Keeping me up.

Eventually, I got to sleep.



“How-?” Sirius starts.

A large box, two times my size sat in front of us. Several tinier boxes littered around it.

I ignored Sirius and flicked out my wand, mentally sent a silent spell, and lifted the large box. The weight admitted through magic and sent a force on my shoulders, causing my legs to quake under an invisible weight.

Once I had a solid hold, I moved away. The box floating after me. Sirius pauses for a second and watches me, a strange look in his eyes. When I met them he suddenly looked away and pulled out his own wand he flicked it and sent out the wingardium leviosa spell then carried three boxes, following behind me.

We had started at the front of the school by the bridge and had to make our way to the back, to Hagrid’s hut. We went through the front doors, scurried through the passageways, running into a couple students here and there who scuttled to get out of our way. Turning corners, and rounding turns we eventually made it to the back, but not without consequence.

My legs already ached from the weight of the box, my wand arm was getting tired of holding, and my stomach growled at the lack of food. Several times I’ve almost dropped it, but Sirius encouraged that we were close, that we’d be there soon. And I kept going.

We made it outside, but I groaned when I saw the hill to the hut.

“What?” Sirius heard my groan and hurried to my side. “Oh.”

I sucked it up and slowly walked down the hill. The weight of the box made me a bit unbalanced and the walk down the hill was slower, as well as the fact of the heavy invisible burden making it hard to stay upright. Practically dropping the box for relief when we finally made it down the hill.

I leaned against the box and slid down the side. Letting out a sigh of relief. But realized there were more boxes to be taken back to the hut and no time to spare. I sat for a second, my mind blank, looking up at the ocean blue sky. Relaxing for a second. Sirius said something that snapped me out of my trance.


“Oh uh nothing.” He mumbled before

My legs shook as I stood up exhaustion running through my veins. I picked up my wand, ready to force myself to carry more.

But Sirius walked over to me, lifted his hands as if he was going to place them on my shoulders but hesitated and dropped them.

“You stay here and get started on whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll get your other boxes, okay?”

I nodded. He spun on his heels, with the energy I couldn’t even muster, he ran back into the building. His wand ready in his hand.

I turned to the box and got started.

We both worked diligently, he even opened the boxes before I got to them. I unloaded a bunch of utensils and started working on putting them together. My wand being constantly used for different welding spells, Sirius standing close by. Eventually, it started to get dark when I realized we hadn’t gone in to get any food. But the device was almost all put up.

“What is it?” Sirius asked. I shrugged in an I don’t know manner causing Sirius to let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re doing a favor for someone and you don’t even know what it’s for?”

I hesitated before nodding, my throat dry and my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Sirius noticed my slowed manner of movement, I was tired and hungry, I realized, but that’s not all. Something was wrong

“Hey, you okay?” He took a step forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t manage to look at him in the eyes when I shrugged half-heartedly. My breathing slowed and darkness skimmed around the edges of my eyes, my legs felt weak and my stomach started feeling weird. I shook my head violently, Sirius took this as a ‘no I’m not okay’ and swept my legs out from under me and lifted me into his arms when I started to sink to the ground. Sirius was saying something before it all went black.


I told you to eat more ______..” The nurse let out a sigh. “Apparently, you had gotten cut while working and with the lack of food to help with the malnourishment, which in turn caused you to black out. Please be more careful Ms. ______.” She walked away, Dumbledore stepped up and replaced her spot. He smiled softly.

“How about you just work on the item after the party. Okay? You must take care of yourself. Plus, it would be rude of you to miss my party. Yes?” I nodded. “Good, good… Lucky Sirius was there or you might have gotten severely hurt. He rushed you to the infirmary, very nice of him. Why don’t you bring him to the party, that’d be nice, Yes… anyhow. I should go, rest up my dear.”

And he stalked off leaving me alone in the infirmary in the dark of night. The party being the day after tomorrow.

So I slid down to my pillow and slept, and slept.

Then it was Saturday, the day of the party. And I was better, the nurse wanted to keep me a day to make sure I healed correctly, somehow a large wound appeared on the side of my leg and I lost a lot of blood but either didn’t notice or just forgot. Nothing happened on Friday, Sirius came and went a couple times, bringing food or news but Madam Pomfrey kicked him out several times because he caused too much of a ruckus, to be honest. I don’t think she really likes him.

I sat on the end of the cot, my feet dangling over the edge. I was fully dressed in my own clothes and my wound was completely healed. The only thing I waited on, was the sign-out sheet.

It was unusually early in the morning to be signed out so I pegged the lack of Sirius on that. It wasn’t until lunch came and went after I got signed out that I realized that Sirius wasn’t anywhere to be found. Confusion etched into my eyebrows.

After he didn’t show up to the table with only a hand full of people. I started to question things. I went back to the common room behind the portrait hole and started there. My search went from the Gryffindor dorms to the many halls, the library, the infirmary, classrooms, nowhere. Finally, I opted to look outside, I rushed back to the rooms and grabbed my coat, unaware of the time.

The absolute silence is what got me, it was usually a bit louder than this, at least a couple people here speaking. I slowly slipped on my jacket, thinking carefully. I looked at the time and saw that the party was in twenty minutes.

“I guess I’ll get ready.” I turn and stalk back up the stairs to put on an appropriate outfit, hoping Sirius would be at the party.



Sirius was in a hurry, he had to quickly get to the common rooms, he lost track of time. He hoped he wasn’t too late and you haven’t left yet, he didn’t have to, though, he is fully capable of going by himself, he just wants some quality time with _____.

However, along with the way, he noticed a group of girls hanging out in the corridor waiting for something. Then he realized there was some mistletoe above the girl’s heads and they were waiting for someone when he turned the corner and saw some of the group stands and watch him he realized they must have been waiting for him.

He cursed. He doesn’t have time for this, the girl he planned on winning over was going to show up behind the portrait hole any second. Of course, they had to stand in front of the exact room he needed to go to.

There was no other way around it, he had to go through. So he charged forth and a chorus of girl’s called his name, some grabbing hold and forcing him to look at them then the mistletoe.

“Oh Sirius, look Mistletoe. Christmas tradition~” A blond sing-song. Sirius deadpanned, looked at the mistletoe then to her before speaking.

“I’m Jewish.” Then pried himself off of her before making it inside the room and standing face to face to ______.

“Oh really?” You spoke once the painting closed behind him. “I’ve never known that about you.”

Sirius grinned. “You expect me to kiss those pieces of fish? HA! No way.”

He stepped forward and towered over her. “So let’s get going to the party.”


“Where have you been?” I asked the moment I entered the room Dumbledore assigned to the party, it was well decorated. Tinsel, candles set up like Christmas lights, one of the corners had a large Tree, Presents littered around the tree. There was a mistletoe growing on one of the archways. But I found that out later, I hadn’t looked up at this time.

The beginning of the party went by relatively slow, we greeted Dumbledore and thanked him for the party. He said a few interesting words before ushering us to try the punch.

“Yes!” Sirius cheered after he got a cup. Causing me to roll my eyes.

There was music playing in the background causing me to absentmindedly rock to the beat.

Sirius, however, noticed and offered his hand.


“You want to dance?”

“…. Sure why not.” I accept his hand and he pulls me onto the dance floor, rocking to the beat.

“You’re a horrid dancer”

“Shut it.”

The day passes into night relatively quickly. We were one of the only people left, some students showed up said hello then left. Some brought presents to Dumbledore but only a handful stayed. Sirius and I were sitting at one of the roundtables with refreshments, he kept conversation sometimes starting sentenced but ending them quickly.

I let out a yawn, cutting Sirius off of the topic he was passionately talking about. He smiled softly, looked outside and saw the lowered sun on the horizon. He stood. Lending out his hand for me to take, for some reason, my face lit up. It felt on fire, the room was suddenly warm and I didn’t understand why.

I took his hand and shuffled forward. “Let’s go back, it’s about time to get some rest.”


I heard someone say something, perhaps to get our attention, there was an underclassman pointing up. When I followed where he pointed, I saw a familiar looking plant. Mistletoe. My face heated up further, no doubt my face was certainly on fire. Something caused me to look at Sirius, his face in the similar state of embarrassment. He gaped for a second before making eye contact, his face lighting up further. The tips of his ears turning a dark red. He cleared his throat, the room went still as he leaned forward, I could feel his breath on my face.

He neared me, his lips ghosting over mine, our eyes lidding. Okay, this is happening.

I almost whispered “I thought you were Jewish” But I couldn’t get a sound past my lips.

It was when his lips softly pecked my own then he pulls away, causing me to want more from it. I finally noticed.

I have feelings for Sirius Black.

submission: rookishhellion

Imagine Johnny and Max getting stuck in some kind of spirit-maze together after Johnny isnt just seeing shades, but full on spirits. He’s still unaware of Forge. Johnny gets frustrated Very Fast because he cant do anything and Max cant really either bc all he has is a magnet bat, so theyre stuck navigating it the long way. Johnny takes the opportunity to grill Max for info, asking about the levitating and all the weird junk hes been seeing since Max came to town, especially since hitball. Max picks up on whats going on after he asks if the little octopus on Max’s arm is actually… There, and not some kind of illusion Max is casting. He tells him to look at the pic he took of them levitating and asks if now he sees the bottom of what looks like a Snake-Train. Johnny asks if Max is a witch. Max explains that hes seeing ghosts and stuff because apparently, hes a spectral.

Johnny and Max continue getting more and more lost, chatting for what feels like ages, learning a bunch about eachother in the process as Max does his best to explain exactly what the deal is with spectral stuff, and they bond over being mutually confused as hell and new to this stuff. They have similar tastes in music, they both love Sick Stunts, etc. Over the course of their hours stuck in the maze, Johnny’s admiration evolves into a Full Blown Crush. Johnny signs Max’s cast the BIGGEST he can, but with an itty bitty teeny tiny heart beside it. Eventually Johnny starts carrying Max piggyback and tries to hurry so they can get out of here and he can sort through those feelings by himself, but no matter how far they go it just seems to keep going, as though its literally changing around them as they go. Johnny gets more and more frustrated and flustered and his chest starts to feel warm until they hit a dead end and johnny screams. But. Fire breath comes out when he scream. he falls over in shock over just how goddamn cool and also cathartic that was, while its max’s turn to scream for a second. Once the shock is out of their systems, Johnny asks if all spectrals breathe fire. Have you been keeping secrets from me max. Are all spectrals metal as hell. Max figures hes a medium after some deduction, but Johnny’s slightly too absorbed in how Sick that was to care much about the explanation. They burn their way through like six layers of maze walls to finally escape, johnny laughing maniacally as he finally just collapses face first outside of it with max still on his back and Max tries really really hard to keep up his cool guy aloofness but he cant help but to laugh out of pure relief that theyre finally out.

  • Sincerely, a person with a fanfic concept theyre too lazy to write
Against all odds - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Against all odds

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,466

Warnings: Age gap

Prompt: Could you write a DeanxReader longer one shot where the reader is 20 years old. They’ve known each other for a couple years and always had feelings for one another but not known how to deal with the age gap. Maybe include them telling Sam and him freakin out a bit?

No one could miss the looks you gave each other. No one but you and Dean. Or at least that was at first. Back then when you would look at Dean biting your lip like a teen in front of her crush and acting ever-so-shyly. Back then when your eyes would always find him and you’d laugh at the funny faces he made while eating or reading, only for him to catch you and you to play it off as nothing or tease him to make him not see the blush that would always creep up your cheeks. But Sam saw it, crystal clear.

Unlike his brother who, much like you, would use every small chance he got to sneak glances at you. But unlike you, and unlike the shyness you had when you’d look at him, his face would express guilt. At first it was always all accompanied by a soft smile and a pure look of peace on his face but then things changed. They always changed and Dean’s, well, almost carefree and adoring expression would shift. And Sam knew all too well that it was just because Dean would lock eyes with his only moments later.

Keep reading

Have a Kevin of the Day – Day Two

- The day Kevin needs help getting back onto his feet

Day 2

Early Days

Have a Kevin of the Day – Day Two
- The day Kevin needs help getting back on his feet

Early Days

Days at the gym are a hit or miss for most people; either you get your head into the zone pretty much right away, or everything turns into some kind of self-imposed torture session and you can kiss your endorphin rush good bye. For Andrew Minyard that rush is out of the question right from the start. He likes the gym though.

If his meds have one upside, it’s his seemingly endless stamina. For someone his size he can pack quite a punch, and lifting weights isn’t half bad when it has saved your ass more times than you can count, when the next threat is only a corner away, when you just made a promise with a guy who’s a head taller than you, but somehow still manages to look up to you.

Kevin Day has only recently gotten rid of his cast, but he will probably never forget the day his supposed-to-be brother in everything but blood has broken his hand. From what Andrew has gathered he can’t be blamed, Riko is after all a real piece of work in all shades of fucked up. Only a matter of time until he comes knocking to get his favorite piece on the board back, he figures and puts the weights down after his last set.

The Foxes, his new team, –well, not so new anymore, he supposes, he has been here for a while now –finish their workouts and start to head out of the gym. Kevin hasn’t been cleared to lift weights with his left hand yet, and working around his injury has put that permanent miserable look on his face whenever he gets close to the gym. The guy hates it, Andrew knows. He feels like someone has –no, Riko has– cut his arm off. He might as well have, since everyone keeps telling Kevin that he will never use that hand to play Exy ever again. Game over.

For Kevin, there is no life without Exy. For Kevin, there had been no world outside the Raven’s Nest for years, and when he had finally grown wings strong enough to fly Riko had clipped them. Kevin is damaged goods –like Andrew. Maybe that’s why they get along. That, and Kevin’s painful absence of a spine. The guy backs down as soon as Andrew squares his shoulders. They will have to work on that eventually. Right now it’s like having a puppy following him around.

Speaking of which, his new grotesquely large shadow has vanished from his sight. Kevin usually finishes his workout a little sooner than Andrew, but he sticks around and keeps close to him. Odd, Kevin won’t leave without telling him. Well, technically he can’t since Andrew is driving them pretty much everywhere these days, him or Nicky.

He turns to his cousin. “Where is Kevin?” Nicky has been slacking off the last fifteen minutes, thumbs busy texting with someone –probably Erik.

“Uuhmm…” Nicky isn’t great when it comes to multitasking. He finishes his text and looks around. “I don’t know.”

“Lost you puppy?” His brother joins them, crosses his arms over his chest. Aaron might not think so, but Andrew can still read his twin like an open book. Aaron knows where Kevin went and he wants Andrew to ask him, he wants the attention. Tough luck. Kevin can’t have gone far, and the fact that Aaron has said nothing so far means there is no real danger. His twin isn’t stupid after all.

Andrew turns away and heads towards the showers, not without giving Nicky a look. Now, Nicky isn’t stupid either. In fact, Nicky might be the one who understands non-verbal-Minyard the best of all of people Andrew knows. He gets it, heaves a sigh, and Andrew leaves it to him.

“So, where is Kevin?” he asks Aaron. His twin gives in as soon as it’s clear that Andrew won’t ask and won’t wait to hear his answer. He speaks up so Andrew has to hear it. He can hear the smirk in Aaron’s voice.

“Why? Probably crying his eyes out somewhere. I saw him watching the Raven’s interview on his phone. Have you seen it? The part where Riko talks about Kevin coming back for sure? Hilarious.”

Andrew’s shoulders stiffen but he keeps walking, lets the door fall shut behind himself a little too loudly but doesn’t give a shit. Aaron should know better. Andrew knows that his twin is still pissed about the whole Katelyn thing. His brother has been stupid enough to get too close to one of the Vixens lately. Andrew won’t let him get away with it, but that’s no reason to pull Kevin into this.

He skips the shower for now, throws his towel on one of the benches in the locker room. No sign of Kevin. Looks like he hasn’t gotten changed yet, so he can’t be far. The hallway to his right leads to the lobby, and that’s where the rest of the team will gather to wait before they head out together. It’s the reason Andrew turns left. Kevin wouldn’t hide in plain sight for the whole team to see. He could have done that in the gym.

The stairs to his left lead up to some doors with Staff Only written on them. Andrew has never seen any staff around here. He doesn’t have to walk far. On top of the stairs, out of sight, sits Kevin, knees drawn up, back against the wall, cradling his injured hand. His eyes are dry, against Aaron’s believes, but his face tells Andrew that the guy is losing it on the inside. Kevin takes ragged breaths, and Andrew thinks he would probably run away without turning back, if he would only have a clue where to hide right now.

How many times will they have to go through this? He isn’t good at giving pep-talks; quite frankly, he sucks at those. He doesn’t get why people need the extra encouragement. Either you want something bad enough to do your part, whatever that might cost you, or you don’t. Simple as that.

“Kevin.” He won’t cuddle the guy. He won’t fake concern. He has run out of pity years ago. Some things fall by the wayside if you live lives like theirs. Kevin looks up at him but says nothing. He rocks a little back and forth, back hitting the wall, and Andrew watches him until the rocking gets bad enough so even Kevin’s head hits the wall with dull thumps. He stops rocking, closes his eyes and keeps hitting his back against the white painted concrete.

“Stop that.” He has no time for this. Either Kevin can have his nervous break down right now and gets it over with, or they are leaving.

“He’s coming to get me,” Kevin mumbles.

“He’s not.” Andrew crosses his arms.

“How do you know?” the striker whines. He is pathetic like this. To be honest, a guy like him should be able to take Riko down if he wanted. That Moriyama kid must have seriously fucked with Kevin’s head over the years.

“Because I won’t let him. I promised you, didn’t I?” Kevin leans his head back and grimaces. “Didn’t I?” Andrew repeats, demanding an answer. The taller man shivers but nods. “Say it.”

“You did,” he manages. “You did promise.”

“Do you trust me?” That’s the argument it always comes down to; it’s their breaking point, hit or miss. Nothing else matters between them. Kevin looks him in the eye as if he would find his answer there. He always does that, judging by Andrew’s eyes if the goalkeeper can be trusted.

“I do.” They will be fine for another day yet. Riko will remain the demon in Kevin’s head and Andrew will be his keeper.

“Then get up. We are leaving.” He waits and watches as Kevin tries to convince his legs to carry him again. They are stiff from fear, have probably been shaking like the rest of him. Kevin lifts a hand to let Andrew pull him back onto his feet, then hesitates. It’s his left hand, the scar on it is in plain view. He does that sometimes. It’s his dominant hand and now that the cast is gone, his brain tries to make him use it again, refusing to accept the changes yet.

Andrew reaches out anyway, grabs Kevin by the forearm and pulls him up. Kevin’s hand mirrors the movement, his grip weak above Andrew’s armband. It’s an achievement for him to be able to make a fist again. Therapy is slow and painful and the results are more than doubtful.

“I won’t say anything if you take a hit at Aaron for calling you a crybaby.”

“He did?” Kevin grimaces. Andrew shrugs.

<<Day 1                                                                                                             Day 3>>

baby dragon au that I’m not writing because I have a hundred other plot bunnies already:

  • it’s come to my attention that rather than 5 reds, it’s most likely there’s one of each chromatic color. this is even better tbh
  • clones of the Conclave, obv, but only Raishan’s was mature enough to function. but then when her soul was transferring, Vax did something deathy and Pike did something lifey and Percy did…something; no one’s really sure what (possibly including Percy himself) but you can be damn sure they’ll ask later because there was a considerable amount of black smoke billowing from his sleeves at the time
  • somehow it all results in five dragons who really are just fresh babies? no memories? most everyone’s ready to kill them, except Pike stands between the dragons and her friends as a cleric of Sarenrae, goddess of second chances
    • I, for one, ignore the whole “alignment/personality by nature” thing whenever possible, and so would Sarenrae. Anyone can be anything they choose to be.
  • and then Vex starts petting them
  • it all goes downhill (GETS WAY BETTER) from there

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Im just hoping that Chris will at least be going to comic-con with the rest of the cast this year and he will hopefully see how many people love and appreciate him and that the cast will address the ridiculous hate that has been going around the show this past season.

If Melissa is attending Comic Con, Chris is attending Comic Con. At this point they’re just following each other around all the time. lmao no shade, it’s just the truth. I think they’re really cute and supportive of each other but it does make me sad to know that he thinks he can only rely on Mel to feel safe when interacting with the fandom. I do hope the hate gets addressed and condemned by the cast or producers or whatever. Because ignoring it isn’t working. 

kurosmind  asked:

I've been thinking about a prompt all day so here's two, if you're still taking them 8D *slides Fael over table*. sfw: elf eyes slightly glow in the dark, they travel at night in the Hissing Wastes. Dorian finds that both mesmerizing and slightly unsettling. nsfw: you don't think to put your mouth in certain places when you don't have regular access to bathtubs, but now you have it, if you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SFW prompt, Dorian can’t get over those eyes.

A distraction. That was the word Dorian was grappling for as he set a flurry of fireballs at a pair of Venatori coming after them, his mind half in the battle, half lost to contemplating other things.

Dangerous, yes, to have his heads in the clouds during battle.

He sidestepped the bladed tip of a staff’s end, brought his down in two smooth motions of the wrist. He swung it up, shifted his weight onto one foot, smoothly avoiding a thrust of a sword, before bringing down his staff down on the back of one opponent’s neck, knocking him out and then batting the other that followed after, clean across the face. Blood flew across the air, shimmering in the moonlight and Dorian’s thoughts simply strayed further into earlier that night.

The memory was distinct in his mind, for no other reason than the novelty of it.

They had been at the site of the Colossus. Dorian had been admiring the handiwork on the humongous statue, contemplating on the logistics of such an undertaking, before Fael had called his attention. Of what, Dorian could no longer really remember, those eyes had seized his attentions and arrested his senses completely.

Bright, reflective eyes in the dark, shimmering purple, like amethysts glinting in the moonlight. Dorian could write a sonnet on it.

His body turned to the owner of those eyes, like a compass seeking north, he turned and found Fael, hurling spell after spell in a silent but deadly ferocity.

In the fire of battle, his eyes no longer that eerie, strangely mesmerizing glow. No, this time—

“Dorian!” came Fael’s roar, alarmed and on edge, pulling on mana to cast another spell.

It was a prompt for Dorian to tear his eyes away and he was met by the sight of reinforcements only a stone’s throw away from him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. It can wait. It should wait.

He weaved through the Venatori with a fade step, the prickle of the fade warping around him like bells in his ears, wrenching his thoughts away from his daydream. He cast fire from the ground, sending the reinforcements into a frenzy.

He’d return to being careless when they’ve been dealt with.


From that vantage on the mountain pass, the night and the desert both seemed endless, but the beginnings of dawn trickled from the edges of the horizon, casting soft shades of pastel across the sky. They had been at it all night and they would make camp there, sleeping off the harshness of the sun in favor of moving in the cover of the dark.

Fael sat beside him, staff across his knees and silently enjoying the view.

All this time, Dorian could still not shake away the spell he had been struck with the strange quality of Fael’s eyes. he wondered if he might see it once more.

How he knew well the qualities of Fael’s eyes; in battle as valiant as the summer sun, in joy as bright as clear spring water and in solace of each other’s arms as warm and cozy as a hearth in winter.

Was it any surprise then, that he would like to uncover that elusive, mysterious gleam?

He said nothing, wondering how that might come to fruition, when Fael reached out to touch his arm.

“Dorian,” he called, turning to face him.

Dorian turned to his lover, the sharp, jagged edges of the mountain and the remnants of the light of the moons cast sharp shadows down on one side of their faces, while the coming dawn lent a gentle glow on the other.

There was that glint again on one of Fael’s eyes and it was all Dorian could do to bring his hand up to the other’s face.

Fael made a lopsided smile and leaned up to capture Dorian’s lips in a kiss, unaware of the whirl of thoughts in Dorian’s mind, the racing beat of his heart in excitement as Dorian came to sear that image in his mind.

Later, surely, he would dream of amethysts.

anonymous asked:

Unpopular Opinion: Sonic Chronicles could've been one of the best RPG Sonic games if given a better plot development and better characterization

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree


Okay, hear me out. There are some elements about the game that don’t make sense. But as Forces retroactively proves, Chronicles also had some major game-changing elements, such as the ending’s basic premise that Eggman had conquered the world in the team’s absence. And I really, REALLY wish there was a better build-up to that outcome than “Sonic and co. left the doc behind because he said he’d reformed.” No no no no no no no.

As y’all are probably aware, I really like Shade as a character—or rather, for her potential character. She’s a unique figure in the cast with a different perspective having been shaped by the time gulf. And I do believe the game robbed her some major character development by turning her into Ms. Exposition. She showed signs of regretting defecting from her master, hints of an insecure sense of self when removed from a commanding authority. THEY COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING WITH THAT KDSNKADNAASK

Not only that, but it merely skimmed over Knuckles’ internal conflicts regarding no longer being the last of his kind. And Amy’s desire to stop and smell the roses in between bouts of fighting Eggman. And just about any other bit of character development, really.

Overall, I think Chronicles could have had a pretty touching story if it’d been forked over to writers who knew what the hell they were doing.

Gossip Material

Request: Professor!Neville imagine where you and him are both hogwarts professors and the students spread a rumor that you two are dating (when you aren’t at the time) and it just leads to fluff

“Alright, class dismissed. Remember to complete your assignments by Wednesday!” You remind the class as students rush out of your classroom and into the halls. The had had finally concluded and you were very, very tired.

You look out of your classroom window to see a grand view of the greenhouse. Professor Longbottom was still tending to his plants and helping whatever students that needed his help. You remember the times you struggled yourself in Herbology back when Professor Sprout was still teaching. 

You’ve been on the edge of asking him out for the longest time, but there just wasn’t any time to do so. First school, which was too crowded and awkward, then the battle, then you lost touch, and now you were both professors in school. It would be strange to be dating in front of the entire student population, you reasoned with yourself.

Behind you, you hear giggles and hushed whispers. You turn around to see a few of your younger students with flushed faces.

“What are you doing here? Class is over. Do you need help with something?” You ask. 

“Not really Professor, but we were wondering. Is it true that you’re going out with Professor Longbottom?” They ask eagerly. 

You force yourself to cool down as to not get over-heated. “Where did you get that idea?” You ask curiously. It’s not as if you’ve been saying anything…unless he said something? 

“You two are always talking to each other!” A student says. 

“Yeah! And you’re around the same age,” Another points out.

“And you would be perfect together!” The third student practically shouts. 

“Alright you guys, settle down. No one is going out with anyone. Now off to wherever. This classroom is officially closed,” You chuckle and usher them out.

As the students ran out, you could still hear them whispering. “I think she does like him! Professor Longbottom will be so glad! He’s always nervous around her.”

Their rumors got you wondering..perhaps it was high time to settle your feelings out. You make your way casually to the outdoors in search of Neville. You see him wave goodbye to a final student and retreat back into the jungle of plants. Cautiously, you follow him inside. 

A variety of plants, flowers, and roots greet you there. It was cluttered, wild, but amazing to be viewing it up close. You get enraptured by the different flowers that you barely notice Neville staring at you until he clears his throat. 

Your head snaps to his face and you’re greeted with a small smile and a blush on his face that you thought made him look rather dashing, even though he was coated with dirt and dust. 

“Hello there Neville, how are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound casual.

“I’ve been doing well. The, uh, students are progressing. How are your’s doing?” Neville shuffled his feet and replied.

“Well enough, although some can’t quite get the hang of casting Patronus Spells. They’ll learn soon enough. We can’t all have the Chosen One teaching us,” You laugh. 

Neville’s face flushed an even deeper shade of pink. Why couldn’t he just get a grip and ask you out? He’s been wanting to ever since you started teaching. He was so lost in his own thought and the only thing that brought him back to the real world was you, slowly inching towards him.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit spaced out,” You put a hand on his shoulder and stare into his eyes. 

“I-it’s fine, I mean I’m fine,” Neville reassured you. 

You give a small smile, and just throw caution to the wind by saying “Would you perhaps like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend? As a date?” 

Neville gapes at you for a moment, before smiling and nodding his head. You smile and bring your lips to his. He wraps his arms around you, and slowly sinks into the passion. 

It lasted for a good half minute before you both hear excited squeals coming from the outside. Both of you break away and stare out the clear windows to find the same group of students from before going ballistic over what they just saw. 

After you shoot them a stern look, they run off back into the castle laughing. You chuckle and turn back to Neville, who was blushing even more now. 

“They’re never going to let us live that one down,” He sighs. 

You reply with a laugh. “Let them talk. They need something to gossip about now that Hogwarts is missing Harry Potter. It’s not as exciting as it used to be. Then again, it’s not as life threatening either,” You joke.

Neville gives a hearty laugh and takes your hand in his. As you two walk back to the castle, you remember than dinner is approaching, and you have a feeling the Great Hall will be much chattier than normal. 

forever in your arms...

Felt the need to write some post-Underworld comfort and intimacy. (a bit spoilery if you haven’t been following casting spoilers) Rated S for smuff. (FF / AO3)

He’d seen the sun rise and set from the bow of his ship, an entire day with his eyes on the ocean as melancholy ripped at his salvaged soul and pressed heavy on his heart. Emma was at home, having left her before dawn with a kiss to her cheek (barely reachable from her position burrowed under the covers) and a note on the counter as to his whereabouts. He knew she wouldn’t disturb him today, would understand his need for solitude. But as each hour passed alone on his ship, he wished more and more for her to be by his side. The calm he once felt with the rise of the tide now pales in comparison to the press of her cheek against his, the warmth of her somehow filling every shadowy corner of his darkened thoughts.

Night has fallen and led him back home, back to her, where he should have been all along. With limbs heavy with fatigue, he trudges through the door, stopping just inside to lean back against the cool surface and close his eyes. She’s there almost in an instant, one arm circling his waist to take his weight while her hand strokes through his hair and pulls his head to her shoulder. Like a boat finally untethered, he sways into her arms, surrendering to her softness, her strength, thankful for both.

“It isn’t fair.”

Keep reading

That’s Okay

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Depression, Swearing, like 2% fluff 

Word count: 3.4k 

Summary: Dan has bipolar disorder, he’s broken, to put it bluntly. Even after all this time he can’t fathom why Phil still sticks around.


Some days, Dan Howell is so fuelled by energy that he feels like he could run a marathon, make a thousand videos and paint an artwork so beautiful that it could rival the work of even Van Gogh.

And that’s okay.

Other days, Dan Howell can almost not find the energy to provide for his breathing, let alone for the rest of his muscles. He lies facedown on the carpet as he wonders what is it about life that makes people want to live?

And that’s okay too.

Or at least, that’s what his therapist says, “that’s okay” coupled with the infamous “it’s not your fault” and sometimes even a “you don’t deserve this” during a really bad session.

And Dan wants to scream. It is his fault! His fault entirely. No one exactly force-fed him the pills when he was 16! The depression that led to it in the first place wasn’t caused by pricks or social injustice, it was caused by an imbalance in his own brain chemistry. Everything was entirely his fault and Dan knew that lying to him wasn’t going to make it otherwise.

Dan doesn’t know why Phil sticks around, as Dan often repeats to his weekly. The standard oh-so-Phil response is a bone-crushing hug, a murmur of “you’re my best friend” and the offer of a mug of tea and a movie marathon.

In all honesty, Dan appreciates Phil’s resilience to stay with Dan. In his deep dark recesses of his mind Dan knows that if it was Phil that was bipolar, while Dan wasn’t, Dan would’ve tried to escape as fast as he possibly could.

Or maybe not, Dan muses as he unfocusly scrolls down tumblr one day while in one of his rare in-between states. Because in the deep, dark recesses of his mind, Dan know that he loves Phil, be it platonic or maybe even something more.

“Dan.” Phil’s voice calling from the kitchen snaps him from his reverie.

“Mhm?” Dan hums back as loud as he can.

“Are you prepared to accompany me on a quest of epic proportions?”

“Depends what it is, if it’s just to fetch carrots then I think not.”

Dan hears Phil’s laugh drift in from the other room, Dan’s pretty sure that that laugh alone could power the whole of London, if not the UK.

“No, I need to find a new tripod considering you broke the last one.”

Dan snorts, “You’re the one who tripped over it.”

“But you’re the one who left in lying in the hallway.” Phil mocks in a sing-song voice.

“Then you should’ve had your glasses on, you dumbo.” Dan muttered, returning to his dashboard.

“Come on, you haven’t seen the sun in days.” Phil’s voice sounds from the doorway.

Dan looks up from where he sits in his sofa crease to see Phil holding out his hand to him.

Dan groans, “If I must.” he says, closing his laptop lid and accepting Phil’s hand, letting him pull him to his feet.

Phil laughs again, as Dan tries to concentrate on anything but the feel of Phil’s hand in his own, trying to ignore how right, how natural it feels.

“Come on.” Phil says, still holding Dan’s hand in his own as he starts to drag him out the room and down the stairs of their flat.

Grabbing both of their coats, Phil pulls Dan down the stairs, both of them giggling like a pair of japanese schoolgirls, the plain joy shining in their faces spreading throughout the flat

Phil drags Dan the last flight of stairs, both of them tumbling onto the tiny metre-wide landing where the entrance of their apartment lay.

Suddenly Dan finds himself nose to nose with Phil. quite literally. Phil, who’s eyes seemed to be illuminated from within. Phil, who’s tongue was sneaking it’s out of the side of his mouth as his face was lit up by a smile which could probably heal cancer patients.  Butterflies didn’t even begin to cover what Dan’s was feeling in his wrecked stomach, the sheer presence and closeness of Phil sent his thoughts into a spiralling freefall, as Phil’s fucking smile just the sheer joy in it that seemed to be all directed at Dan, kickstarted his heart into beating ferociously like a trapped bird trying to flutter its way free.

All too suddenly, like the tiniest film of cloud worming its way in front of the sun on a perfectly brilliant day, a thread of concern weaves its way into Phil’s carefree blue.

“Have you taken your pills today?”

And Dan tries his hardest not to scream, they had been in the middle of something that almost seemed like it was taken straight from Dan’s old books that used to sit on his shelf, something out of a fairytale. All of it ripped away by the fucking fact that he was broken. Good for nothing. Either in a state of frenzied energy or death-crushing depression, broken and unfortunately, hopelessly in love with his 100% straight best friend, he realises, letting out a breath as the finality of the situation sinks in.

Dan knows what he should say, he should really run upstairs and gulp them down before heading out. He knows that he should run away from the magical moment that had just transpired, he can sense the tiny tendrils of depression starting to weave their way up into his mind from their resting place in the darkest corner of his mind.

Banishing them with the already fading memory of the euphoria that has spread through him mere moments before, Dan averted his eyes from Phil (he doesn’t think he has the strength to lie while staring straight into Phil’s eyes) and says “Took them this morning.”

Dan moves his eyes back to Phil, feeling a tiny prick of guilt as relief spreads through Phil’s ocean which lies in his eyes.

You really could go swimming in those eyes Dan thinks hazily, as Phil throws him his coat, and Dan retreats up the stairs due to lack of space to quickly slip it on. Phil then hesitantly, holds out his hand to Dan as he opens the door, with barely a moment’s hesitation Dan takes it, their fingers interlocking as Dan silently shuts the door behind him.

And for a moment, even if it was for sheer comfort, Dan can pretend that he and Phil are more then just best friends.


It’s been four hours.

It’s been four hours and Dan can feel himself slipping.

The tendrils that had curled themselves around the edges of his mind earlier had now firmly taken root and had thickened and darkened, casting their shade on even the brightest memories in Dan’s head.

The trip had been a disaster, to say the least. First of all there had been some sort of back-up on the Northern line, which had led to then standing uncomfortably in a dangerously claustrophobic train for 15 minutes. After they had finally stumbled out of that mess, they had found their usual first port of call for filming equipment closed, with no clear reopening date. It was around this point that the sky has darkened considerably, with the static feel in the air of an impending thunderstorm.

Finally, leaving the fourth electronics store they had visited that day with satisfaction hanging in the air, after having finally found a tripod to replace the one which had been broken by the combined effort of both of them. Well the satisfaction was more just Phil’s, Dan, however, was paying for the mistake of not taking his pills earlier in the day.

Dan is on the verge of tears, he can feel the horrible gaping emptiness of depression start to swallow him. As they cross each street, the sickening proximity and rush of people makes Dan’s head spin, and not in the warm and fuzzy way either.

Almost by instinct, Dan reaches out, grasping blindly beside him for Phil’s hand, past the point of caring for who saw them. Feeling Phil gently take his hand in his own only makes Dan cling on tighter, clinging onto Phil’s hand like it was his lifeline, which, he supposed in some ways it was. Dan hears Phil chuckle quietly as he begins to rub his thumb in soothing circles across the back of Dan’s hand.

Dan let’s himself be slowly calmed and comforted by the rough, familiar feel of Phil’s hand in his own, that is, until they are interrupted by a slight cough from behind them.

Dan’s dread and worthlessness comes crashing back him instantaneously, threatening to crush them as they both turn around and spring as far away from each other as physics allows in that busy London street.

The person whom the offending cough belongs to, short in stature, bright red, teenage girl, pulls down the sleeves of her blue and white polka-dotted coat nervously. Dan catches a flash of familiar white letters on one of the numerous wristbands on her arm OFFICIAL PHANDOM MEM-

Dan curses inwardly, the feeling of absolute helplessness and terror being added onto the already crushing weight imposed by the tendrils which have wrapped their way around his mind. Dan wipes his already clean hands frantically on the front of his coat, as though he’s trying to wipe away any evidence of the crime, the fact that a fan just caught he and Phil’s fuckingholding hands.

Dan likes to get caught up in his own little homemade fantasy in which he pretends it’s not platonic, the fan, by her bright red face and muttered apologies thinks it’s not platonic, however the truth is, now matter how bleak, Phil knows it’s not platonic, and both Dan and the fan knows that that’s what matters.

So Dan and Phil do what they do best, the act, they smile and the routine that both of them have danced a seemingly infinite amount of times begins. Phil poses for a selfie, dragging Dan, now feeling even more worthless than before, into the frame. They exchange customary hugs, Dan hoping that the fan won’t notice how hard he’s shaking. How forced each smile is because he’s attempting to keep the tears at bay. How much the universe hates him because every single time a good thing has ever happened to Dan Howell in his life, it is counteracted by an equally terrible thing.

As they bid the fan farewell, they start to walk towards the station for the tube to carry them back to the safety of their flat, both of them keeping the other at arm’s length, desperately trying not to make any sort of contact, physical, eye, hand, with the other person, which harder than it sounds on a busy London street at rush-hour, with a creeping dread of an impending storm hanging in the air.

Dan can feel the rushing sense of dread and the tightening of his throat, as though something is lodged in there. He starts to try and take in deeper breaths, to try and calm himself but people are spinning their way around him and the ground seems to be heaving, every brush against him, instead of feeling apologetic, feels aggressive and only succeed in making his pupil dilate and his breaths more irregular.

Dan can feel Phil giving him a sideways glance of concern but he barely notices, he feels panicky and worthless, totally out of control of his own life. Dan wants to reach out and grab Phil’s hand tightly in his own and never let go but he can’t, fans would notice, it’s not what platonic best friends do, a hundred different contradictory reasons pass through Dan’s brain at the speed of light until it’s too much, it’s too much. Oh god, it’s too much.

And suddenly they’re on the tube the doors are closing and everything is too tight, people are pressed up against him and Dan feels like he is being crushed from all sides. Dan thinks that it couldn’t get worse until he hears a screech of “OHMYGOD IT’S DANANDPHIL.” from behind them.

Dan feels Phil tense up beside him, it’s the other kind of fan and both of them know it. The complete opposite from the quiet, reserved polite girl who they met on the street earlier, the type of fan which was unnecessarily loud, especially nosy, and had zero respect for the fact that Dan and Phil were normal human beings too, with lives and feeling and mistake upon mistake piled on top of them. If Dan wasn’t on the very edge of tears, he would’ve marvelled at how different the two types of fans were.

And suddenly they were in their faces, quite literally, the two fans were pressed up against them, both of them screaming and attracting shifty looks from their fellow passengers.

Phil of course, puts on smile, not quite reaching his eyes, Dan notices through his haze of despair. The fans were making Dan want to run and hide forever, they were being loud, obnoxious, completely disregarding Phil’s feelings with their onslaught of questions and comments. Dan is seriously considering just running away and hiding forever before the fans turn to him and start their interrogation.

Dan no longer quite has the energy to force a full smile, instead dropping into a sort of half-grimace as he concentrates on fighting back the tiny pinpricks at the back of his eyes. The fans’ questions too obnoxiously rude and personal, he wants to either run and never look back or curl up into a tiny ball and scream.

Dan doesn’t know what pushed him over the edge, he has a faint memory of one of the fans basically demanding him to upload more and suddenly Dan can feel tears running down his cheeks, his fake smile drooping down as he retches and tries to breathe, only to find out that he can’t.

Dan knows what it is, Dan knows what it is and he wants to scream except he can’t because he has no energy left as his body attempts to fight off the panic attack. He just stands there, in front of two crazy fans, with tears creating a fucking waterfall cascading down his cheeks.

Karma is really a bitch, Dan thinks faintly, through his panicked attempts at drawing breath and the deep seated searing embarrassment and hopelessness that has started to spread throughout his body.

Dan dimly hears the announcement for their stop ring out through the intercom, he barely hears the muttered words of Phil saying that they have to go as Phil, keeping a tight grip around Dan’s shoulder, starts to push their way out.

Dan is sure that he must’ve blacked out for a second, because suddenly they’re standing outside, with rain just starting to fall, the droplets falling on Dan’s cheeks and mixing with his tears.

Dan barely has the strength to keep his eyes open as Phil hails a taxi and drags Dan inside,  quietly telling the driver their address as he draws Dan closer to him.

Any other time Dan would’ve relished the physical contact, he would’ve treasured every second of it, but right now Dan is shivering and stone-cold both inside and out, as the horrible void within him starts to claim every single piece of his soul.

Phil says nothing the entire ride home, he just merely draws Dan closer and keeps him there as tightly as possible, as though he’s afraid that Dan could slip through his fingers at any moment.

The silence between the two remains as they pull up outside their flat, Phil pays the driver, and still hanging onto Dan, drags him inside and starts to help him up the stairs.

The click of the lock is the only sound that echoes between the two as Phil pushes open the door and starts to help Dan make the final ascent towards Dan’s bedroom, Phil quietly helps Dan into his room, and removing Dan’s coat, tucks him into bed before leaving the room.

Now that he’s finally safe and sound, in the comfort of his own room, Dan finally lets himself think of what transpired in the last 20 minutes. Dan closes his eyes as hopelessness devours him, the story will already be circulating the Internet, across tumblr, instagram, twitter, Dan daren’t check, Instead he opts for staring blankly at the wall opposite, wondering what the big hype of being alive actually is.

A quiet knock on the door echoes throughout the room before it opens and Phil’s coming in with a two mugs of tea and a packet of pills in his hand.

Mutely, Dan sits up and accepts the tea, before quickly swallowing the pills which should’ve prevented the whole disaster, if he’s only taken them earlier. As Dan drains his mug, he sets it on his side table as the bed dips under the weight of Phil, who has perched himself on the edge of the bed beside Dan.

“I’m sorry.” Dan whispers, after a while of both of them just sitting in silence.

“it’s not your fault.” Phil answers back almost immediately, taking Dan’s hand and absentmindedly drawing circles in his palm.

“But it is,” Dan shoots back, trying to not let himself be distracted by the pattern being lightly drawn on his hand by Phil’s soft fingers. “I fucking broke down over a simple suggestion.”

“Suggestion?” Phil forces out a short, bitter laugh. “Dan, that was a demand, even if you didn’t take your pills this morning, even if you lied to me.” Dan tries not to burst into tears again at the slight hitch in Phil’s voice “you have every right to react like that, you’re working so hard, just because the fans can’t always see how hard, they have absolutely no reason to mach up to you and demand more, it’s selfish and mindless and just fucking rude.”

Dan starts slightly at the anger in Phil’s voice, Dan is usually the angry, passionate one of the two. Dan honestly can’t remember the last time he heard Phil swear either.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that I’m broken.” Dan retaliates.

“Dan…”  Phil’s voice trails off as Dan looks up, shocked to see Phil’s ocean in his eyes brimming up with tears.

“Phil, it’s fine, I know that you’ll end up leaving me one day because of it. I’m broken and you’re the one having to pick up the pieces.” Dan says, hoping that Phil won’t detect the tremor in his voice.

Immediately Phil’s eyes snap to his, “Dan, I promise that I will never leave you, I mustn’t leave you, I can’t leave you.”

Dan sighs, the hollow aching place inside of him where his heart used to reside throbbing painfully “I’ll kick you out then.”

The silence which follows those simple words is deafening, “What?” Phil whispers quietly.

“You heard me.” Dan says sharply, leaning back on his bed and closing his eyes. Too tired to care anymore, only desperate to not have Phil share his burden, “I refuse to let yourself be tied down by some sense of obligation to me.”

“Dan I do all this because you are my best friend and I love you.” Phil replies, his voice catching and hitching as he attempts to choke back the betraying tears.

But not in the way I love you, Dan’s hollow soul throbs painfully, a splash of violent colour among the swallowing grey.

“Prove it, prove it that you’re not just doing all this out of some sense of obligation.” Dan says, tiredness washing over him, threatening to pull him into black nothingness.

Five seconds pass in silence, then ten, Dan silently counts in his head, and just as Dan is convinced that Phil has left the room he feels a warm pressure on his lips.

Dan’s eyes fly open in surprise as he feels Phil’s lips fit against his own, attempting to wriggle some sort of reaction out of him, another second passes before Dan gives him and kisses Phil back for all he’s worth.

Dan feels like he could stay in this moment forever, both of their tears mingling together as they kiss each other desperately, blindly scrabbling onto the other like they were drowning.

All too soon, Phil pulls away, closing his eyes he rests his forehead against Dan’s whispering “Please don’t send me away Dan.” 

Dan’s crying and he can barely choke out a “God no.” before he’s pulling Phil back in for another kiss.

Dan’s broken.

But that’s okay.

Because Dan has Phil.

And he will forevermore.


I’d like to clarify that I do not have bipolar disorder, nor do I know anyone who has it. All references in this fic is taken from the internet and asking psychologists. I apologise if you feel like I have misrepresented the condition.

OKAY. I have gotten about nine thousand questions from people about Eliza’s tweet here: 

and how it can be interpreted as shade. 

I think a lot of the reason people are saying it wasn’t is due to her follow-up tweet here:

I totally see why there are people who wonder if Eliza’s original tweet is shade at all due to that last line: “Means we did our job.” 

But remember back before the episode aired?

Jason was pushing fans to watch live, and I can’t find the tweet right now but there was another one where he said, “If you only watch one episode live, 3x07 is the one!” or something to that effect. 

Eliza livetweeted with us the week before for the previous episode. Then this one, she and many of the cast mysteriously missed it. Then she says, “I’m SO sad I missed it!” Then there’s “The response has been amazing! You guys are so passionate!” 

The response? You mean the overwhelmingly negative reaction to Lexa’s death, not just from Clexakru, but from both sides of the fandom? Now, I can’t say I’ve been as deeply involved in any other fandom but I have never seen a fandom explode like this following a character death before. (I suppose maybe Red Wedding compares but that’s GOT and GOT’s fanbase is on a whole other level.)

#The100 trended for a couple hours. Lexa trended for 15 hours following the episode with over 300k tweets. Lexa deserved better trended yesterday for 8 hours straight with over 100k tweets. The response Eliza is referring to? That response is “Jason, you fucked up.” 

But, as Lindsey reminded us with her tweets… They have contracts. They have obligations. They’re not allowed to say or do certain things because these are their jobs on the line. 

Which is why, to me, that follow-up tweet is not Eliza brushing off the reaction to Lexa’s death. It’s her saying, “Yes. I’m heartbroken. But this is my job.” Means we did our job. It was out of her hands. It was out of Kim’s hands. It was out of Layne’s. This was on Jason. 

If that is not enough to convince you, remember during hiatus. Remember following the Clexa kiss. Remember how overwhelmingly proud Eliza was of Clexa. Remember how much she stanned Lexa’s character and the Clexa ship and ask yourself, do you really think the #1 Clexa stan was happy with the way things played out? 

If even that doesn’t convince you… remember this post (x). Look at how the cast has reacted to this. Look at how much support they’ve thrown out. Look at Kim’s tumblr. Look at Layne’s. 

At the end of the day, Jason is still Eliza’s boss. He is still their employer. But they are just as upset as we are. 

edit: thanks to @commanderofraccoons for pointing this out:

yeah. eliza’s with us.


It’s white wine. It’s so unexpected, hot , though it’s chilled, and Christian’s lips are cool.
“More?” he whispers.
I nod. It tastes all the more divine because it’s been in his  mouth. He leans down, and I drink another mouthful from his lips… oh my.