i come to the sea to breathe

concept playlists part ii

it’s the year 2077 & you’re at a nightclub in tokyo with your best friend, you’re both on the run from a group of rebels but you feel safe in this little neon corner of nowhere so when a robot waiter offers you a strawberry daiquiri you accept it

you’re a tourist on mars & you’re trying to contact home but the signal is really crappy so you just end up buying yourself an icecream sundae & waiting in this strange alien queue to buy an interstellar sim card

you’re in a small virginian town that was wiped off the map several years ago housesitting for a mysterious neighbor when you find a secret passageway in their library, you have no idea where it leads but you’re curious to take a look 

you’re in victorian england & you’re walking down a path adorned with the warm aureate glow of gaslights & it’s snowing softly & you have your hands buried deep in your coat pockets while somewhere in the distance, someone announces that the queen is dead

you meet god at a gas station at 3.03 am & he asks you if you want to go for a motorcycle ride with him & when you say yes he warns you that he’s about to introduce you to things you can never unknow 

you’re in love with a ghost who shows up in all your household mirrors & keeps turning off the kitchen light but one night you realize that you’re the one that’s been doing all the haunting 

it’s a rehab centre for celestial beings, where angels with dying halos flitter past & talk to you of stars, you love working this job, learning about the woes of a dozen flighty beings, & they endow you with their strength & light in return

you’re stuck in a time loop inside of a 80′s horror flick and your entire world feels like it’s glitching around you nothing is real except for your strange lover with eyes like moonlight calling you to come back to bed 

you’re at an island at midnight all by yourself, the night sky is so clear the sea reflects the star-matted sky, a salty breeze lifts your hair, you breathe in deep & dream of someone beautiful coming to your rescue

hotmess / midyouth crisis / mud puppy / lucid dreaming

Sea Witchery: a Brief Overview

Originally posted by mermaids-luv

At the request of so many followers, I have decided to mock up a little bit of information on Sea Magick and Sea Witchery.  This is just a brief overview to give you some information when wanting to research or begin working with the ocean, storms, the tides, and the many creatures associated with the sea. 

However, I will caution you that the many sea creatures (especially the Merfolk) are not very forgiving creatures, thus they can be pretty tough to handle for beginner, baby witches.  It takes an experience sea hag to get them to cooperate properly, so keep this in mind when studying them.

Once again, this is a brief overview and introduction to my craft and path.  if you have any questions, you can direct them to me via PM or ASK.

Let’s get started!


Traditionally, sea witches are witches who appear among sailors or others involved in the seafaring trade. Sea witches use witchcraft related to the moon, tides, and the weather, and are believed to have complete control over the seas. Many sailors fell prey to the sea witches curse on ships and were finally delivered to the one who rules all.  In some folklore, sea witches are described as phantoms, ghosts,or in the form of a mermaid. These creatures would then have the power to control the fates of ships and seamen.

As the name implies, sea witches are believed to be able to control many aspects of nature relating to water, most commonly the ocean or sea. However, in more modern times, sea witches can also practice witchcraft on or near any source of water: lakes, rivers, bath tubs, or even simply a bowl of salt water.

In addition to their powers over water, sea witches could often control the wind. A common feature of many tales was a rope tied into three knots, which witches often sold to sailors to aid them on a voyage. Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind.

Sea witches often improvise on what they have, rather than making purchases from a store or from another person. Common tools include clam, scallop, or oyster shells in place of bowls or cauldrons. Other items include seaweed, fishing net, shells, sea grass, driftwood, pieces of sea glass, and even sand.

Other types of titles they use are: sirens, water witches, storm witches, and sea hags.


Eh, there isn’t really a specific type of person the sea calls to, however I have met many sea witches that would be described as walking contradictions.  Much like the sea, we can be quite flexible, but also forceful.  Moods tend to fluctuate with the tides and lunar cycle.  Hags both enjoy and love music and poetry; are quite expressive with their emotions, but also don’t easily award entry into their hearts; and can easily win the attention of a crowd, but then seek solitude in the comfort of their own homes.  You would be hard-pressed to find a stagnant sea witch–they’ll always be on the move, searching and discovering.  However, be warned: if you fall in love with one you must understand that a sea hag’s heart belongs to the Sea first and foremost, forever and always, and it calls to them over the span of lifetimes.


For the most part, sea witches draw their power directly from the source: the Ocean.  You’ll find that many of them, even landlocked sea hags, have trinkets from the shore and enjoy baths, storms, and the moonlight.  Of course, there are many different kinds of sea witches all over the world and it really just depends on what seafaring folk culture they subscribe to that determines their power source.


I am not even lying–there are HUNDREDS upon HUNDREDS of water and sea deities that sea witches call upon for aid and worship.  Probably the most popular would be Poseidon, Neptune, Lir, Gong-Gong, Hapi, Sobek,  Agwé, Aegaeon, Delphin, the Gorgons, Samundra, Pariacaca, Watatsumi, Rongomai, Njord, Nix, and even Davey Jones.

One of the beauties of being a sea witch is that you can call on many ancient and powerful deities to aid you in your craft.  However, I do advise that you make sure that these deities do not come from a culture/religion/belief system that is closed.  You can check out a full list of water/sea/storm deities here.



Water (salt, fresh, or storm), sand, sea shells and cockles, sea glass, driftwood, ship wood, compasses, maps, mirrors, bowls and chalices, sea weed, sea grass, fish and fish bones, coral, telescopes, sand dollars, pearls, bath salts/bombs/goodies, sea salt, linen, umbrellas and mops, windchimes, ropes, weather vanes, and blood are just some of the few tools we use in our practice.


The Mer or Merfolk are probably one of the more popular topics when it comes to sea witchery.  I get questions all the time like “DO YOU TALK TO MERMAIDS?” or “HOW CAN I GET A MERMAID TO BEFRIEND ME?” or “AREN’T MERMAIDS JUST THE COOLEST?”

The Merfolk are an integral part of sea witch culture, but they aren’t the end all be all when it comes to water spirits/fae/demons/entities.  There are so many to work with and all have interesting backstories.  But let’s talk about the Merfolk for a moment…

Depending to what you school you subscribe to, the Merfolk (also known as mermaids) could be fae, demon, or simply water spirits.  Some believe that  the Merfolk are a species of kithain (also known as changeling or fae.) Ancient and unknowable, the Merfolk pose something of a problem to both fae and human alike. The arrogance of the mer is tempered only by their truly alien natures.  The Merfolk claim that they are the sole legacy of the Tuatha De Danann, the oldest fae on Earth, dreamed long before any human ever set foot on land. When curious people ask how this could be, the merfolk are disconcertingly vague and ambiguous.

As I have stated before on the blog, the Merfolk are certainly an odd lot. The product of a totally alien mindset, the mer are simultaneously deadly, serious and playful, highly ritualized and completely free spirited, repressed and yet libidinous as a drunken prom date. The first thing one will notice about a mer is his incredible arrogance. Of course, as far as they are concerned, they have every right to be arrogant. After all, in their minds, they do rule the world.

Other mythologies tell us that mermaids are the bane of seamen.  These half-fish, half-women lured countless sailors to their deaths. Breathtakingly beautiful humans from their torso-upwards, their lower bodies where those of fish, complete with scales. Men find their songs irresistible and follow them willingly into the sea. Mermaids can be caught and held in exchange for the wishes they grant. The males of the species, Mermen, are regarded as vicious creatures who raised storms for the purpose of sinking men’s ships.  Occasionally they are successfully courted by human men. The offspring of such pairings are often granted great powers in healing by their mothers.

In short, mermaids are extremely beautiful, temperamental, powerful, and dangerous.  They are not to be confused with Sirens, either, and find contempt at the very accusation.  I will probably go into more detail about Merfolk magic in a different post.


Again, like the deities, there are so many different kinds of water spirits and this topic in of itself could be an entire article.  So, here is a brief list and some traits about my favorites…


In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Greek singular: Σειρήν Seirēn; Greek plural: Σειρῆνες Seirēnes) were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. Roman poets placed them on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli. In some later, rationalized traditions, the literal geography of the “flowery” island of Anthemoessa was somewhere tucked in a cape, with rocky shores and cliffsides.

Sirens were believed to combine women and birds in various ways. In early Greek art, Sirens were represented as birds with large women’s heads, bird feathers and scaly feet. Later, they were represented as female figures with the legs of birds, with or without wings, playing a variety of musical instruments, especially harps.


These are the elemental spirits of water. Their magic centers upon this element, whose course and function they can control. Undines exist within the water itself and cannot be seen with normal human vision. Their homes are typically within the coral caves in lakes or upon the banks of rivers, though smaller undines may choose to live under lily pads. Their appearance is similar to human beings in most cases, with the exception of those living in smaller streams or ponds. Undine clothing is shimmery, reflecting all the colors of water though green is typically the predominant color.Every body of water is home to undines, from ocean waves, to rocky pools, to marshlands, to rivers, to lakes and ponds. Even waterfalls and fountains have an undine living in their midst.


The shapeshifting selkies, who are also known as silkies or roane (Gaelic for seal), occupy the seas surrounding the Orkney and Shetland isles. The exact nature of their undersea world is uncertain, though some believe it to be encased in giant air bubbles. Their true forms are those of faeries or humans, though they take the form of large seals when traveling the through the oceans. In particular: great seals and grey seals are said to take human forms. Older tales tell that selkies are only able to take on human forms on certain nights of the year, such as Midsummer’s Eve or All Hallows.

Occasionally they encounter humankind, sometimes becoming their mates. A human male may take a selkie female as his wife if he finds her seal skin on the beach and hides it from her. In the end she always recovers the skin and returns to the sea, though she may return occasionally to watch over her human family from the safety of the waves.

A human woman may bear the child of a selkie male if she weeps seven tears or seven drops of blood in the nighttime sea. Such relationships are rarely lasting. Seven years hence, the selkie would return for his child, offering the mother a fee for nursing her own babe.


One of the most dreaded and best known of the Irish faeries is the Banshee, properly named the Beansidhe literally, “woman fairy.” The Irish have many names for her (perhaps they feared invocation of her true name may invoke her presence?) They included: Washer of the Shrouds, Washer at the Banks, Washer at the Ford and the Little Washer of Sorrow. The Scottish called her Cointeach, literally “one who keens.” To the cornish she was Cyhiraeth and to the Welsh either Cyoerraeth or Gwrach y Rhibyn, which translates as “Hag of the Dribble” (to the Welsh she sometimes appear as a male). In Brittany her name is Eur-Cunnere Noe.

The Beansidhe is an extremely beautiful faery, possessing long, flowing hair, red eyes (due to continuous weeping) and light complexions. They typically donn green dresses with gray cloaks. Their wailing foretells of a death nearby, though it never causes such a death (which is why they are wrongly feared.) 

As her other names might suggest, she frequently appears as a washerwoman at the banks of streams. In these cases, she is called the Bean Nighe (pronounced “ben-neeyah”). The clothing she washed takes different forms depending upon the legend. Sometimes it is burial shrouds, others it is the bloodstained clothing of those who will soon die. This particular version of the Bean Sidhe is Scottish in origin and unlike the Irish version, she is extremely ugly, sometimes described as having a single nostril, one large buck tooth, webbed feet and extremely long breasts, which she must throw over her shoulders to prevent them getting in the way of her washing . Her long stringy hair is partially covered with a hood and a white gown or shroud is her main wardrobe. The skin of the Beansidhe is often wet and slimy as if she had just been pulled from a moss covered lake. They are rumored to be the ghosts of women who died in childbirth and will continue to wash until the day they should have died. The keening music of Irish wakes, called caoine, is said to have been derived from the wails of the Beansidhe.


The Sea giveth and the Sea taketh away.  The sea is both mother and reaper, passionate and cold, serene and turbulent, loving and cruel, generous and vicious.  And if you meet a sea witch, you’ll know this to be true:

Neither chains of steel, nor chains of love, can keep her from the Sea.

i know tumblr likes violent man eating mermaids but i fuck p heavy with pretty playful pretty scaled mermaids in warm sorts of waters keeping the tide gentle when lil toddlers are learning to swim and kissing the breath into good sailors because they have someone waiting on a cliff by the sea for them to come home and cutting seals and turtles out of netting and plastic bags 

but maybe being from hawaii just made me think of the ocean of a safe cradley sort of place i know its scary i know it’ll kick your ass but sometimes its ten types of turquoise and and sometimes sea foam sticks to your eyelashes sometimes the sun hits your face even when you’re twenty feet under and i have a hard time forgetting its first and foremost a womb 

so mermaids who watch the triple crown and scare sharks away from the surfers 

Olympus is not the sort of place you go to have fun.

At least not the kind of fun Persephone thinks of.

It’s a well tuned game of veiled threat and rampant sin, so in that sense there is definitely pleasure. It’s intoxicating, between golden pillars and vibrant colors, but the air is ripe with tension. She feels the eyes of others the first time she visits.

Bastard daughter, but not in the same way as Athena or Artemis…She isn’t Titan borne. Her mother is perhaps what saves her from Hera’s wrath.

She’s simply Demeter’s daughter not Zeus’s.

Olympus is not the sort of place you go to make friends.

She takes her seat, power thrumming in her fingers as she rests her hand on armrest. She likes the feeling. The control.

She’s half listening to her father speaking, when she feels a new set of eyes turn to her.

His hair is so dark, but his eyes are a piercing blue with far more gray than her own. His throne is higher, more ornate and near the front signifying his place as an elder god. Hades.

He has a smile on his lips that is so faint she can barely see it, and he’s looking at her with so much sadness she feels she can barely breathe from it.

But there’s something else there. Something that is so foreign it makes her heart quicken in the second he holds her gaze before his eyes flicker back to her father.

This is dangerous. She thinks.

Olympus is not the sort of place you go to hear a soft truth.

“He’s not like the others.” She says softly, her fingers trailing the edges of the book in her hand.

Hermes looks up quickly from where he’s been re-arranging books, no doubt to slight Athena. He stares at her for a moment. “I admire Hades.” He says in a voice nearly a whisper, “He knew his one brother could not bear the dark, and he didn’t have the heart to deny the sea from the other, so he chose his own path and tried to be just.”

“Why does he look at me with such sorrow?” she breathed.

Hermes comes over and takes both her hands into his, staring at her outstretched palms.

“He doesn’t believe something so lively should be promised to him.”

Excerpt from Myth Untold // L.H.Z


Favorite Films, 2016

  1. Moonlight (dir. Barry Jenkins)
  2. Lemonade (dir. Kahlil Joseph and Beyoncé Knowles Carter)
  3. Certain Women (dir. Kelly Reichardt)
  4. Little Men (dir. Ira Sachs)
  5. Elle (dir. Paul Verhoeven)
  6. 13th (dir. Ava Duvernay)
  7. American Honey (dir. Andrea Arnold)
  8. The Fits (dir. Anna Rose Holmer)
  9. Green Room (dir. Jeremy Saulnier)
  10. 88:88 (dir. Isiah Medina)
  11. Toni Erdmann (dir. Maren Ade)
  12. 20th Century Women (dir. Mike Mills)
  13. Pete’s Dragon (dir. David Lowery)
  14. Personal Shopper (dir. Olivier Assayas)
  15. The Handmaiden (dir. Park Chan-wook)
  16. Paterson (dir. Jim Jarmusch) 
  17. Neon Bull (dir. Gabriel Mascaro)
  18. The Invitation (dir. Karyn Kusama)
  19. 10 Cloverfield Lane (dir. Dan Trachtenberg)
  20. La La Land (dir. Damien Chazelle)
  21. Mountains May Depart (dir. Jia Zhangke)
  22. Wiener-Dog (dir. Todd Solondz)
  23. The Love Witch (dir. Anna Biller)
  24. Everybody Wants Some!! (dir. Richard Linklater)
  25. The Eyes of My Mother (dir. Nicolas Pesce)

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order): Arrival (dir. Denis Villeneuve) | Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (dir. Zack Snyder) | A Bigger Splash (dir. Luca Guadagnino) | Don’t Breathe (dir. Fede Alvarez) | Jackie (dir. Pablo Larraín) | Julieta (dir. Pedro Almodóvar) | Krisha (dir. Trey Edward Shults) | Kubo and the Two Strings (dir. Travis Knight) | Louder Than Bombs (dir. Joachim Trier) | Manchester by the Sea (dir. Kenneth Lonergan) | No Home Movie (dir. Chantal Akerman) Things to Come (dir. Mia Hansen-Løve) | Train to Busan (dir. Yeon Sang-ho) | The Wailing (dir. Na Hong-jin) | The Witch (dir. Robert Eggers)

Films I Missed: Aquarius | Cameraperson | Cosmos | The Edge of SeventeenEmbrace of the Serpent | Fences | Fire at Sea | Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party | Hidden Figures | I Am Not Your Negro A Monster CallsNeruda | Nocturama O.J.: Made in America | The Ornithologist | Right Now, Wrong Then | Shin Godzilla | The Woman Who Left

A Review of the Appreciated - Fic Rec from The Foxhole Court

 I decided to start keeping track of the fics I read and enjoyed, along with some comments of my own. This is only my own personal opinion, but overall I do recommend all those fics. All of them will be Complete, unless I mention otherwise.

Here I start with The Foxhole Court ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)

An AU where Death, aka Neil, is convinced to spend some time playing at being human. Working at the Laughing Fox coffee shop has him meeting ordinary people, as well as less ordinary people.

I really loved this fic so much. Neil failing at being human was hilarious, his friendship with Matt was precious, and the Coffee Thief Andrew was great! Easily one of my favorite. It’s apparently based on the Sandman by Neil Gaiman, but no knowledge of that story is required. I never read it and the fic made perfect sense to me. Not all of the characters are gods, magic or such, but imo they still all have Something Special about them.

Read it for: an endearing Neil trying to understand the appeal of human things such as drinking, eating, watching movies or shopping; an oblivious Neil; Andrew’s intense attraction to Death; express traveling to another country just to have dinner.

The pirate crew of The Fox find an unexpected treasure in the form of a captured merman named Neil. It might bring them more troubles than riches.

Set as my go-to feelgood read, I’ve read it multiple times and it never disappoints. The universe is rich and well detailed, especially under the sea. The parts in Neil’s pov are entertaining and transcribe the feeling of being from another species pretty well. A good point of this story is that there is absolutely no likeness to The Little Mermaid, which would have been ooc. Instead, it suits the rebel side of the characters.

Read it for: an etherealy beautiful mermaid, a bunch of kids adopt a pet but they have no idea how to care for it, Neil talking to whales and cleaning barnacles-ridden boats, an entertaining travel throuhg the seas.

The Urban Fantasy AU where Kevin is finally #1, they still fight Riko, Neil rents flat but doesn’t read the line where it specifies a Hellhound comes with it. The dog is Andrew.

Hard to define without spoiling the entire story, this is a fresh breath of air in the world of AU. An overall original setting that gives us fae and magic. I takes some time to really start, so the beginning might be confusing, but I strongly encourage giving it a try, if only for snarky Hellhound Andrew.

Read it for: a new approach of the Urban Fantasy theme, Kevin is still a Drama Queen, a reassuring lack of zoophilia, Neil cooking pasta.

“hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it’s fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?” Jeremy first falls in love with the dog, then with its owner.

An incredibly sweet reading. I don’t know what was cuter: the dog, or the men. Also features a cool appearance from Laila and Alvarez as Jeremy’s not quite helpful friends.

Read it for: a dog with a very cliché french name, drunk texting in broken french, unhelpful dating advice, Jean as a painter.

The recorded number of times someone hit on Neil Josten and got nowhere, and the one time Andrew didn’t even have to try. 

It’s a classic I guess, but it’s well written and hilarious. This oblivious Neil is delightfully funny.

Read it for: a Savage Moment, helpless fools attracted to each other, the team as witnesses.

Three days after he signs his death sentence to Palmetto State, five after Andrew Minyard sends him flying breathless to the ground, Neil’s gaze snaps to the locker room mirror and stares, frozen, at the word threat scrawled along his spinal cord in terrifying, heavy bold.

This is the AU where your soulmate’s opinion of you gets tatooed on your skin. Effective writting coupled with punch-like settings makes this a one of a kind read. So believable you almost forget it’s an AU.

Read it for: soulmates refusing to be soulmates, an very andrew-like andrew, Neil is one the run, the sweet feeling of andreil being soulmates.

Three takes on their daily lives: an evolution of Sleeping together, Fighting each other, and Protecting each other.

I had heartburn reading this, I find this series almost perfect. Some daily-life action in the future, but it’s never boring. It’s both intense and fluffy.

Read it for: sweet everyday things, but also intense in character interaction, boys figuring shit up together, a good Healing of the Soul.

Normally, Andrew is the one who has bad days. 

The one where Neil has a bad day, and they deal with it. A touching piece, that felt very in character. A believable interpretation of Neil’s feelings, while Andrew is There, ever present as his understanding and supporting self for him. Almost bittersweet but somehow by the end, all that was left was pure, positive feelings.

Read it for: a bag of neatly packed feels, a how-to manual on handling them, quiet time together.

In which the Foxes become parents too young, and Neil is truly just fine. Neil is somehow, suddenly, eight year old.

An interesting take on Neil’s childhood, with the added bonus of the foxes interacting with a child. I think this might be the most civil Aaron has ever been toward Neil in. Some are better at handling a child than others, and it’s surprising.

Read it for: a cute young Neil, an heartbreakingly scarred young Neil, unsurprising temper-tantrums, a lost Wymack, having your heart burned to ashes by how pure a child is.

Five things Neil was surprised to enjoy, and one thing he wasn’t surprised to discover he still didn’t.

Don’t let it fool you, there is only pure sweetness here. Several moments of Neil discovering the wonders of life, it’ll definitely leave you smiling.

Read it for: Neil eats a sweet (almost unbelievable), Nicky’s bad influence on Andrew’s boyfriend, catching up after a life on the run.

the Salt Jinx

Originally posted by she-is-beautifully-broken

A jinx, (also jynx,) in popular superstition and folklore, is a curse or the attribute of attracting bad luck. Historically, the idea of being “jinxed” or “jynxed” is particularly prominent in nautical contexts. Ships which suffered a series of misfortunes were considered by many sailors to be “jynxed”, and were then avoided. The jynx might be associated with a particular sailor or passenger, who the crew might then seek to remove.  Note: All magic, especially vengeful magic, comes with a price.


–a 4x5 photograph of the negative person who has been rubbing you the wrong way
–two cups of sea salt 
–a teaspoon of ash
–a cauldron, firepit, fire safe bowl
**NOTE:  If you have a larger photo, it will require more salt.


1.  Place the photo on a flat surface outdoors.  Stare into the eyes of your oppressor and begin to take deep breaths.  In through the nose, out through the mouth, breathe these words, “I am the water and you are the salt.  I will dissolve your presence around me.”

2.  Take your salt and begin to slowly pour it over the photo.  Start with their mouth and cover the face.  Say, “Though we must coexist together, I am the tide and you churn because of me.”

3.  Sprinkle the ash over the salt and chant, “You are invisible to me.  No longer can you effect me negatively.”

4.  Pick up the picture and sift off the salt into your container.  Light a match and burn the photograph.  When the fire goes out and the contents have cooled, stir the remainder and sift into a bottle.  Cork it and keep it in a dark area.

5.  If after that, the person continues to effect you, take a pinch of your Salt Jinx and sprinkle it into your hands.  Rub it over all of your palms and fingers, then wash your hands with warm soap and water.  Chant as the Salt Jinx washes down the drain, “I wash my hands of you.  You are, once again, invisible to me.”

Huntress in the Castle: Part One

This is a very special story to me I wanted to share with all of you. I’ve been working on it for a long time  and I’ve been too nervous to share it. I think now is the right time.

           Once upon a  time, my Granny told me my fate rested in the forest. It was where I would find an evil meant for me. Now, every family had a different story they told their wee ones on why they should never ever go into the forest. Unlike those tales though, my Granny’s story turned out to be true. My Granny, you see, was an oracle. She could see into the future. She could see the things that other people couldn’t.

           She told me, many a time, that I should never ever go into the woods, that was until I turned seventeen. She would tell me, “then, and only then will you be ready for what the forest holds. Because it is there, my precious child, that your destiny lies.” She smiled comfortingly, her gold tooth glinting in the light of the fire.

Keep reading

Summary: Sansa is sent as an emissary instead of Jon to meet with the Dragon Queen [Season 7 Spoilers - some of the dialogue is word for word from the script]

Dedicated to the lovely @qinaliel for the prompt!! 

“Then send an emissary!”

Jon paused, turned towards her and sighed. In the few short months since they’d been reunited, Sansa had come to learn his sigh’s and this one said that she had won. He was finally beginning to listen to her.

“Sansa,” he said slowly, coming to stand before her. They had been arguing in his solar for most of the afternoon. “Who will I send? You?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, not after everything they’d done to get it back, but for Jon? For their home? She would face down Cersei if she had to. What was a Dragon Queen to that woman?

Immediately, Jon shook his head, stepping closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “No. No. I will not send you. She is a queen, only a king can get through to her.”

“You are more needed here than I am,” Sansa said. She reached for his wrist, circling her fingers delicately around it. “Jon, let me do this for you. I know women like her. And I am not merely anybody you’re sending. I am the Lady of Winterfell. She will listen to me.”

He twisted his hand from her grasp only to retrieve it back in his own. “I can’t protect you in the south.”

“No one can protect me anywhere,” she reminded him. “I will have Brienne with me. And Podrick. I will not be alone.”

Jon furrowed his brows. They both knew there was sense in her words, but she could see the struggle, the conflict warring in his mind. He was so noble, always so honourable, and it made her heart ache for him, fear and love mingling like the warmth of her breath fogging in the cold winter air.

He turned away from her, dropping down in his chair. Jon rubbed his face. “How can I plan a war when all I’ll be doing is worrying about you?”

Sansa let out a soft breath, a half-hearted laugh, as she came to kneel before him. “If it is any comfort to you, at least I will be far away from Littlefinger.”

His head snapped up at that and a small rueful smile broke over his face. “You heard then?”

“There is not much that happens in Winterfell that I don’t hear, Jon Snow,” Sansa grinned. “Although if you must wring Littlefinger’s neck, try not to do it in full view of the guards. You know they like to talk.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your counsel, my lady.”

Sansa made to stand up, but this time, Jon wrapped his hand around her wrist, the hard callouses grazing over her soft skin. It made her heartbeat spike unbiddenly. “You will be careful, won’t you? You will go, say our peace and come home?”

“I don’t want to be away from Winterfell more than I need to,” Sansa answered him, keeping his gaze, so he knew the words she didn’t wish to say out loud, that it was him she didn’t want to part with most.

Jon nodded once and let go. “Get some sleep, Sansa.”

That night, she tossed and turned, dreams of Winterfell lit on fire, blazing orange and red against the blinding white of winter. She dreamed of dragons screeching overhead as her people screamed for mercy, for reprieve from this slaughter, and then, just as she could feel the flames licking her own skin, she heard the keening howl of a wolf, as big as a mountain.

Jon, she whispered, reaching for him. Jon

Sansa woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. She was warm, so much warmer than she had been in the night, but when she turned, she found the reason for the heat. Ghost lifted his head, blinked at her, something like concern shining in his eyes. She carded her fingers through his fur and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You came to save me, didn’t you, boy?” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and Sansa laughed. “My hero.”

It was the day she would leave Winterfell. Sansa never thought that she would have to again after winning it back from Ramsay, but soon when the winds burned like fire and the sun refused to shine, her people, her Jon, would have to pick up their swords and fight, and Sansa needed to ensure they survived the Long Night. If this Dragon Queen could be reasoned with, then she would go and speak to her. Never mind that a Targaryen could never be trusted; never mind that this woman had stolen into their lands with a foreign army and three dragons. Sansa could understand the necessity of her alliance – although the feeling of trepidation did not ease, not when she broke fast sitting beside Jon as he watched her carefully and not when she sat with her maids to pack her belongings.

“I thought I would find you here.”

She didn’t turn, only wrapped her arms tighter around her body. He came up behind her. She could hear the crunching of his boots on the soft powdered ground.

“You don’t have to go.”

Sansa made a noise and he sighed in response.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he amended instead, his voice low, barely audible above the whistling wind. “Some days I think…” Jon paused and gave a soft chuckle. “I think, what if we had just run? Gone south and never looked back.”

“This is our home,” she murmured to him.

“Aye, and I will fight with my last breath for it,” he said firmly. “But maybe it keeps me sane to imagine what our lives would be like if we had run.”

Sansa turned then, eyes sweeping over his face. “And?”

“We would have a house,” Jon answered immediately. “Maybe by the sea.” He averted his gaze, staring up at the heart tree. “We’d be safe.”

She reached for his hand. “I’ll come home.”

“Promise me,” he said softly, squeezing her back.

“I promise, Jon.”

But promises were meant to be broken and Sansa would soon realise that the Dragon Queen would not be so easy to persuade.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains,” the woman spoke.

Sansa refrained from grimacing. She had met another once who liked to shout his titles at anyone who would listen and he had been a monster. She desperately hoped this Daenerys was different.

“This is Sansa Stark of House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, blood of the First Men, Lady of Winterfell and Sister to the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Brienne immediately replied, standing tall and proud, Podrick a step behind her.

“Forgive me. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Daenerys asked, poison hidden in her polite words, but Sansa had lived with lions. A dragon did not scare her.

“No, your grace,” Sansa answered, keeping her tone equally as polite. “You are well-versed in your history, but mayhaps you have forgotten that House Targaryen was overthrown during Robert’s Rebellion when your brother kidnapped my aunt and your father had my uncle and grandfather burned alive.” She paused to let this sink in. “House Stark has not been loyal to a Targaryen in many years.”

Daenerys’ lips twitched as her brows furrowed infinitesimally. “My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom’s ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Sansa Stark. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name your king Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

She couldn’t help think that peace was the farthest thing this woman wanted. A Targaryen’s house words were not ‘fire and blood’ for nothing, but she could hear Jon’s voice in her mind, reminding her of how important it was to ally with the Dragon Queen.

“I cannot judge you for your father’s crimes any more than you can hold me to my ancestor’s vows,” Sansa told her. “The North will not bend the knee, your grace.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demanded, the politeness fading from her tone.

“Because we need each other,” she said easily. “To survive, House Stark and House Targaryen must form an alliance.”

The Dragon Queen turned, smirking at Tyrion. When Daenerys finally returned her gaze back onto Sansa, she caught her former husband’s apologetic glance. So it would seem even the Hand of the Queen was aware of her arrogance, but it was hardly surprising to Sansa. Those with power tended to believe they deserved it. The only king or queen Sansa had ever met who wished for less power was the one she had left behind, the one of whom she missed so achingly she would turn around right this moment and swim back to him if the survival of her people didn’t rest in her hands. With an inward sigh, Sansa steeled herself as the Dragon Queen spoke once more.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“Yes, your grace.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys asked, looking amused and patronising, but Sansa had learned to weather all manners of insult, those personal and evasive, and those from arrogant rulers.

“Yes,” Sansa answered simply. “My…” she paused for a fraction of a second, “king has seen unspeakable horrors beyond the Wall and there is an army marching towards us at this very moment. If we do not band together, there will not be a kingdom for anyone to rule.”

“And what is this army you speak of?”

She sighed. It was impossible to imagine the kind of army that Jon spoke so fearfully of and yet she knew his words to be true. It didn’t, however, make convincing Daenerys Stormborn any easier. “The Army of the Dead.” Sansa straightened her shoulders. “I know how it may sound, but my king is no liar. If he says they are coming then it is true.”

“I have no reason to believe in a man who wishes to oppose me –”

“Jon does not wish to oppose you,” Sansa interjected. “He does not wish to sit on the Iron Throne, not now, not ever. Your grace, you are not grasping the severity of the situation. Cersei is a formidable foe, but the Dead will kill us all if we don’t work together.”

Daenerys let out a scoff. “You will have me place my trust in a man I have never met?”

“Do you trust your Hand?” Sansa asked, looking to Tyrion. “Because he will tell you that neither Jon nor I have any reason to lie to you. Nothing good comes from a Stark leaving the North, but I am here because it is necessary.”

Tyrion sighed. “Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa and I trust Jon Snow. They are honourable people.”

There’s a long pause that fills the room, so tangible Sansa could feel it crowding her, pushing up against the cloak she still wore. Daenerys stood up and began to descend down the stairs, eyes unwaveringly locked onto Sansa’s, but she refused to be intimidated by a woman not much older than her.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don’t remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,” she said, the emotions making her voice rise. It was the first time since they had arrived that Sansa saw something more than just pure arrogance. She saw defiance and strength, but if Daenerys thought she was the only woman to have ever been violated, she was mistaken. Cersei was defiant and she was strong, but she was as bad as the men who underestimated her, if not worse. Sansa won’t be swayed so easily by sad stories; she’s had her fair share.

“Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” The Dragon Queen paused, only a few feet away from Sansa now. “Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Brienne shifted behind her, but Sansa was not here to trade trauma for trauma. Her pain was her own and no one else’s, not even Jon knew the full extent of what she had gone through. She didn’t need to sink so low for this alliance, but she did need to get through to Daenerys somehow.

“The world is not a kind place for any woman,” Sansa said slowly, evenly, while observing the queen for a reaction. “For many men, we are no more than a womb for their seed to grow and that is if we’re lucky. But this war cares not if you are a man or a woman, Daenerys Stormborn. It will devour us all if we don’t act.”

“My lady,” Tyrion spoke up, his eyes were soft, kind and pleading. “I understand your brother may believe that he saw something beyond the Wall –”

“He did,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but you cannot expect us to halt hostilities and join him in fighting in the North,” he continued. “If Jon bends the knee, swears fealty to Daenerys, then we can defeat Cersei and take up arms together in your war.” Tyrion moved forward. “Sansa, you know what my sister is capable of. You know you will never be safe while she’s on the throne.”

“With respect, my lord,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “I do not need reminding of what Cersei is capable of. As you said, I know far too well, but I also know when there is a far greater threat and that is the one in the North. You may believe me or you may not, but the Long Night is coming. Winter is here.”

“Then bend the knee,” Daenerys demanded once more. “Do it now and we can cease with this squabbling.”

“The North has suffered too long under southron rulers. We will not bend the knee,” she said confidently. “Jon will not bend the knee. The people have put their trust in his hands and he will lead them for as long as he can.”

“That’s fair. It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself King of the northern most kingdom, House Stark is in open rebellion,” she concluded, eyes narrowed.

That night, she dreamed of fire, bright and orange, flickering up the walls of Winterfell as screams pierced through the air. She could feel the heat on her skin and she wanted it to stop. She tried to remove her cloak but the heat persisted. Sansa opened her mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, for anything that could stop the pain running through her, but her voice would not work.

The thundering flap of wings had Sansa peering up into the ashen sky. There amidst the clouds, she saw two of the most fearsome creatures circling her home. Fire rained from their mouths, turning stone walls to pebbles and people to nothing more than dust. When Sansa could feel the skin peeling away from her bones, she felt it, looming great and big over her, its shadow turning day into night. Sansa moved, whirling around to face it, and immediately, she was struck, jaw gaping open, as she stared into the grey eyes of a pure white dragon. It looked back, sentient like it knew her, and flapped its large wings. The gust of air cooled the fire away and soothed the pain running through her body.

Sansa dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Just kill me,” she whispered. “Kill me.” It bent its neck towards her like it was bowing, eyes cast down. Confused, Sansa shouted at it, angry and hysterical, “what do you want from me!”

Before it could respond, Sansa woke with a start, her chest pounding loudly in her ears, and the overwhelming feeling that washed through her was that she missed Jon. It was not the first time since arriving at Dragonstone that she thought this, but now knowing that Daenerys was holding them prisoner on this godsforsaken island, she missed him all the more. The thought of never seeing him again made her ache down to her very bones. She had to find a way back to him; she refused to let that moment at the gate be their last moment together.

“I should be going,” Jon said, touching a hand to her cheek. “It is not too late to change your mind.”

Sansa leaned into his touch, uncaring that Brienne, Podrick and Ser Davos were only a few feet away. “We cannot have this argument again, Jon. You’re king. The people need you here.”

“You would do just as well leading them,” he countered, thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. “I may be king, but you’re their lady. They love you. They trust you just as well as they trust me.”

“It’s better this way,” Sansa said with a small smile. “Smarter.”

Jon sighed. “I will not convince you otherwise, will I?”

“Have you ever?”

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He kept his gaze on her, lingering, and drawing out the silence before he finally spoke again. “Be safe.” Without another word, Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, so familiar yet so different, as when he parted, he dropped his forehead to hers, allowing their breaths to swirl in between them. “I’ll miss you, Sansa.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She ran her hands up his chest to grip onto his furs. “I’ll miss you too.”

Sansa wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared out unseeingly towards the horizon. The wind blew gently, tossing her hair away from her face and neck, leaving a cool breeze to ease the heat of the south. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

“I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack, but I can hardly do that in the presence of my lady wife,” Tyrion said, that teasing lilt to his voice.

“I have been a prisoner many times, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said coolly. “I have been kept against my will at the hands of your family, forced to swear my loyalty to the people who murdered my father, brother and mother. I have been kept and sold by Littlefinger to the Boltons where I was imprisoned in my own home.” Her chest rose up and down rapidly. “But I will not be a prisoner to your queen. Jon is my king and I will make it home to him.”

“Lady Sansa, you are not a prisoner. You are free to roam the beaches and –”

“Do not trifle with me, my lord,” Sansa turned to look at him. “Or have you forgotten how long I spent under your sister’s tutelage?” She pursed her lips tightly. “Your queen does not believe me. It is fair. I hardly believed Jon when he first told me and every rational thought in my mind is saying to look to Cersei. She is our biggest threat, but you don’t know Jon the way I do. Not as he is now.” She returned her gaze to the sea, imagining the man in question and what he must be doing in this moment. “He is a great king, a greater man than you and I ever thought possible in these hellish times, and if he says the Dead are coming, I suggest you heed his warning and act accordingly.”

“My lady, it is not a question of belief,” Tyrion said. “Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn’t. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you’re our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That’s why she came here. And she’s not about to head north to fight an enemy she’s never seen on a word of a man she doesn’t know after a single meeting. That’s not a reasonable thing to ask.”

Sansa smiled, though it was derived of humour. “You will forgive me if my faith in rulers who believe themselves entitled to a throne is lacking, Lord Tyrion. But I appreciate your advice and will consider your counsel with great thought. May I suggest you listen to mine as well?”

Feeling all at once exhausted and weary of this conversation, Sansa moved past her former husband and went in search of a quill and parchment. If she could not see Jon, she could write him. He’d need to know that Sansa wouldn’t be coming home for awhile yet, and that as long as she was alive, she’d find a way, not just to return to him but to convince the Dragon Queen to help one way or another. He had tasked her with an important mission and Sansa would not fail him.

Of Monsters and Men sentences

Wolves Without Teeth

  • “I’m giving you all”
  • “I’ll be the blood, if you’ll be the bone”
  • “You hover like a hummingbird, haunt me in my sleep”
  • “I run from wolves”
  • “It’s perfectly strange, you run in my veins.”
  • “I breathe what is yours”
  • “You’re feeding on my energy”
  • “I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth”
  • “You can follow me”

Yellow Light

  • “I’m looking for a place to start.”
  • “Grab ahlod of my hand.”
  • “I will lead you through this wonderland.”
  • “Ignore those big warning signs.”
  • “I dare you to close your eyes.”
  • “I see a light.”
  • “The light is blinding my eyes.”

King and a Lionheart

  • “We won’t run.”
  • “We’re here to stay.”
  • “Howling ghosts they reappear.”
  • “You’re a king and I’m a lionheart.”
  • “We’re still the same.”
  • “Creatures lurk below the deck.”
  • “I’ll be here to hold your hand.”
  • “You’re my king and I’m you’re lionheart.”

Black Water

  • “I need nothing.”
  • “There’s something eating at me.”
  • “Darker days are reigning over me.”
  • “In the deepest depths I lost myself.”
  • “I’m ready to suffer the sea.”
  • “I see myself through someone else.”


  • “Heavy stones fear no weather.”
  • “I find comfort in the sound and shape of the heart.”
  • “From the rain comes a river running.”
  • “We’ll create an empire for you.”
  • “Illuminate.”
  • “You’re staring back at me like I wasn’t there.”
  • “We welcome the fear.”


  • “I am lost and led only by the stars.”
  • “Breathe in, breathe out.”
  • “Let it in.”
  • “Shadows form a grin.”
  • “If I lose control, I feed the beast within.”
  • “Cage me like an animal.”
  • “Breathe in, breath out, let the human in.”

Love, Love, Love

  • “Maybe I am a crook for stealing your heart away.”
  • “Maybe I’m a bad person.”
  • “These fingertips will never run through your skin.”
  • “Those bright blue eyes can only meet mine across a room.”
  • “You love, love, love when you know I can’t love you.”
  • “I think it’s best we both forget before we dwell on it.”
  • “You held me so tight all through the night until it was near morning.”
Catch Me (Day 7)

Summary: In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,633

A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long to update. I had family and school things to attend to but here it is! The final part of Catch Me - I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you to everyone who reblogged/liked/commented on any part of this story. I adore each and every one of you.

@avengerstories​ - thank you for editing this you queen :)

Day 6

Originally posted by musicfixyou

“We’re all needed for this mission,” Steve states from the front of the conference room. His lips are set in a straight line and there are no hints of the smile he was wearing only half an hour earlier when the two of you were eating lunch together. It goes to show that something as seemingly insignificant as a ten-minute phone call can change everything.

“What is it this time?”

“Infiltration.” Steve hesitates before adding, “Of a HYDRA base.”

Bucky who, for the first time ever, voluntarily chose to sit next to you for this meeting, clenches his fists under the table.

“Even me?” Bruce questions, stealing your attention away from HYDRA’s former golden boy. He’s fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater and you wish you could offer him some kind of comfort. You know how opposed he is to becoming the big, green monster unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“We’re only going to need your medical expertise for this one Doc.”

“Oh thank god.” Bruce sinks back in his seat and relief floods through you. At least someone is guaranteed to come out of this mission unscathed.

Keep reading

I Was Here | Pt. 3

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader x ??

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1280

Masterlist |Ask

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Originally posted by yoongichii

“Yah, aren’t you happy to see your boyfriend?”

Your head shot up the moment you heard those words coming out of the stranger’s mouth, your widely opened eyes looking into his smiley ones, trying to understand what was happening.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against your forehead and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. “I missed you, Beautiful..”

Your breath hitched at those words as your body flinched, your trembling hands reaching forward in order to push the stranger away immediately.

But before you were able to do anything, the man in front of you caught your shaky hands with his soft ones, his long fingers automatically intertwining with yours.

Slowly, he tilted his his head a little bit and started observing your face with his deep brown eyes. You on the other hand, stood in front of him, your furrowed eyebrows reflecting how confused and unsure you were.

Without saying anything, he slowly blinked with his eyes once and smiled at you with a reassuring smile. When you felt a comforting squeeze around your hand, your whole body started to relax and for the first time in a long time, you felt.. safe.

You realized that.. he was trying to tell you something..

You snapped out of your thoughts the moment you heard someone slam their cutlery harshly against the table. Immediately, you turned your head to the left and took a step back from the stranger the minute you were met with your husband’s angry eyes and the glare he was sending at you and the stranger.

Trying to free your hand from the stranger’s hold, you tried to explain with your shaky voice. “T-Taehyung, you’re misunderstanding-“

Before you could end your sentence, the stranger took a step towards your husband and reached his hand out. “Hello, my name is Hoseok and I’m Y/N’s boyfriend. You must be her husband, right?“

You watched how they looked into each other’s eyes with hatred and disgust as you realized that your attempts to free your hand from the stranger’s hold was impossible, since he tightened his grip around your hand.

Without removing his eyes from the stranger called Hoseok nor reaching out to shake his hand, Taehyung hissed. “What is this man talking about, Y/N?!“

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when Hoseok sat down at the chair across from Taehyung with a lopsided smile on his face. “I’m just telling you the secret she’s been hiding from you, Taehyung-ssi.“

Mirroring Hoseok’s smile, Taehyung leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Y/N would never do something like that. She would never betray me like that.“

A sarcastic laugh escaped Hoseok’s mouth the minute he heard those words. Leaning forward, he placed his crossed arms on the table and looked at your husband with a raised eyebrow. “Why? Why can’t she do something like that when you’ve done the same thing to her?“

“How dare you?! How dare you interfere into my private life?!“ Taehyung shouted.

The lopsided smile on Hoseok’s face turned into a smirk. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Do you feel ashamed because you cheated on your wife,“ he nodded towards Hani with an disgusted expression, “with her?“

“Yah, how dare you speak about me like that?!“ Hani shouted from the side.

“Did you feel happy when you cheated on her, Taehyung-ssi? Hm? Did you ever think about her?! About her feelings?! The way she would feel whenever she sees you both together?!“ Hoseok hissed with anger.

When you realized that Hoseok’s once loose hands were now formed into fists, your hand reached out for his shirt immediately. Feeling his shirt being tugged, Hoseok turned his head towards you and were met with your teary eyes and your shaking head that was telling him to stop.

You didn’t know who he was.. You didn’t know why you weren’t saying anything..  Maybe because he was the first one ever in your life that stood up for you? Maybe because he protected you? You didn’t know.. But for some reason, you.. trusted him..

Without saying anything, Hoseok took your hand that was tugging on his shirt and whispered to you. “Shh, I know.. I know.. I’m here and I’ll not let you alone, I promise..“

‘I’ll not let you alone, I promise..’

“Let go of her hand! She’s my wife!“ You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you heard your husband’s voice.

A little chuckle left Hoseok’s mouth. “Now you remember that you’re married? Wow man, I can’t decide whether I should be impressed or disgusted.“

You watched how Taehyung furiously stood up from his chair and walked towards you. Wrapping his hand around your wrist, he started tugging at it. “Stand up, we’re going home!“

A little hiss left your mouth, your face scrunched because of the pain. “Taehyung, you’re hurting me.“

Seeing this, Hoseok stood up too, shoving Taehyung away with his free hand. “Don’t you dare touch her!“

This time, you heard Hani’s voice. “Taehyhung! I can’t believe that you’re behaving like this when I’m right here in front of you! Let me remind you, you are my boyfriend!“

Not even looking at her, your husband hissed. “Shut up, Hani!“

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before he looked at you with those furious eyes. “I will not repeat myself, Y/N! We’re going home, now!“

You too, took a deep breath before you locked your eyes with his. “No, I’m not coming with you.“

Seeing the way Taehyung’s expression changed from angry to shocked, you chuckled sarcastically. “I’m not your toy, Taehyung. You can’t pull and push me whenever you want.“

With that, Hoseok stepped in front of you and removed your husband’s frozen hand from your wrist.

“You heard her. Now take your wannabe girlfriend and leave before I do something that, believe me, I won’t even regret.“

“Do you feel a little bit better?“

Snapping out of your thoughts, you turned you head away from the sea that you were staring at and connected your eyes with the ones that gained your trust within a few hours.

Closing your eyes, you nuzzled further into the warm jacket he gave you and nodded. “Yes, thank you..“

Smiling at you, he looked up at the stars. “Aye, you don’t have to thank me. I felt like this place would calm you down a little bit. I come here whenever I feel sad or stressed. Helps me to think properly and-“

“No, thank you for helping me there.. For protecting me.. For standing up for me.. You don’t even know me, why did you do it?“

Focusing his eyes on the sea, an airy laugh escaped Hoseok’s lips as he shrugged. “I don’t know.. I was sitting at the table next to yours and heard everything they said to you. At first, I tried to ignore it but then I saw your eyes..“

Turning his head to you, he looked into your eyes. “You looked unhappy.. Every smile, every laugh was forced..“

He leaned a little bit more forward. “Do you really love him, Y/N? Are you able to fill your emptiness with all those forced smiles? Is it worth for a man like him?“

“Hoseok, he’s my husband-

“Your life is empty, Y/N.. It is incomplete.. It shows in your eyes.. Just like in mine..“

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you all so much for the love you’ve shown the last part! I appreciate it a lot! Why do you think Hoseok has said the last sentence to the reader? What could he have experienced in his past? Let me know what you think about it!~

Free! Novelize Chapter 6: It’s Meaningless Without You

I cannot impart to you the miracle that happened for me to get this to you. It’s actually been ready for a couple weeks, but I haven’t had the time to type it up. SO before we begin, a couple notes:

-I apologize for the blatant irreverence for verb tense; it switches from present to past and back again. So I tried to leave it as similar as possible so it can drive all of you crazy too I apologize for that in advance.

-Also again with the spacing, practically everything has its own paragraph in the book.

-‘Dice Talk’ is literally what the phonetic vocabulary word is for the dice game in the chapter.

-There are a couple lines it is a bit hard to tell who is talking without seeing their speech pattern, so I added the first letter of their name in a bracket after the line just as an aid.

-And finally, the Japanese language frequently doesn’t believe in periods, causing a lot of run on sentences. I adjusted accordingly, but if anything seems overly long, that’s why.

Now then:

Chapter 6: It’s Meaningless Without You

~Haru’s Point of View~

It’s meaningless without you.

Keep reading

The only one (Ivar the Boneless x Reader)

Warnings : It’s kinda sad at the end; I didn’t mean for it to go this way but well… Also my English is bad heh.
Word count: 3708.

I don’t know who I should tag, so I’m just going to tag those who always like/comment oon my stuff (let me know if you want to be removed/added).

@rachiieee , @sconniebelle , @dangerousvikings , @nothingbuthappydays , @lordavanti , @dani-si , @bitchccraft , @kirah34 , @ivartrash , @ivars-heathen , @thinemineours , @taintedlittlesweetpea

Originally posted by lovelynemesis

A/N: This was requested by a lovely anon, here’s the full request:

“Hihi would it be possible if you could write a fic about being in a secret relationship with ivar but he has to marry someone else and because of this you have to break up but he still loves you and tries to get you back and you get hurt in battle and it all comes out you had a relationship and he does anything to make you feel better??? Ps this is 100% my favourite blog, you have the most amazing writing 💗💗💗 “

I changed it a bit… Like, they’re already not together at the beginning. I hope you do not mind!

I’m sorry this is shit, I’m not fully satisfied with it…

Part Two.

You can read my Alex imagines here and here. And my first Ivar imagine here.

Wrapping the thick brown fur tighter around your trembling body you let out a shaky breath, your eyes focused on the far horizon; on the deep sea that separated you from home. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen your family, your friends. Were they alright? Were they safe and healthy? Those thoughts kept you awake at night, praying to the Gods being the only thing that kept you sane. But it was all for a good cause, or so you hoped.

You have joined Ivar’s army and followed him to England as soon as you’ve heard of his plan to avenge his father. He had refused to let you come at first. ‘Are you insane?!’ You remember him shouting straight to your face, a few droplets of his spit even hitting your red cheek. ‘You’re going to get yourself killed. I won’t allow it. I cannot lose you.’ Crawling out of your wooden cabin, he had left you utterly confused that day. Why would he still care?

But you being your stubborn self ignored his pleas and showed up at the deck on the morning they were sailing off – your sword in your belt and your shield on your back, ready to fight. With an exaggerated sigh he gave you a short nod, allowing you to get on the boat.

That was weeks ago, and now here you were – in a foreign country, sitting on the dirty and slightly wet grass, alone. You could hear laugher coming from the camp further in the forest, but you didn’t want to be there. You didn’t want to see him. His thick dark hair and wide blue eyes have been hunting you ever since before you left Kattegat. Ever since that night – the night he broke your heart and crushed your dreams. He had met someone else.

It wasn’t exactly how he had phrased it, of course. He explained he had to marry soon; and his eldest brother had found a girl who was willing to spend the rest of her life with Ivar the Boneless. You had almost laughed out loud as these words left his rosy lips. You would have been more than happy to marry him; and deep down you knew he knew it. But it seemed all these months together meant nothing to him. All these walks, all these hugs, all these kisses and all these nights spent in your little cabin that meant the world to you; meant absolutely nothing to him.  

He had offered that you could still see each other; said that things did not have to change. But you couldn’t do it, you didn’t want to share the man you loved with some pretty blonde girl who has only arrived in Kattegat. You asked him to leave you alone that night, and after a few minutes of apologising he did – letting you cry yourself to sleep.

You’ve seen him around the village every day; and every day you pretended that everything was great while in reality your heart ached and every time your eyes met his you felt like it was being ripped straight out of your chest.

These feelings grew even worse when he started spending more time with her. She was beautiful, you couldn’t deny it. Her long blonde hair shone in the sunlight, her light blue eyes and her flawless skin gave her an angelic look that you surely did not have. She was a lady and you were a warrior. Your skin was scarred and your hair dirty most of the time, as you spent all of your free time training and learning new fighting skills. Yet you could still feel his eyes on you, watching you like a hawk. Observing your every move every time you would cross his path.

A loud shout followed by more drunken laughter brought you back to reality, back to England. Groaning you rose to your feet, hissing at how sore they felt as you took a few steps towards the deep voices emerging from the forest. Hiding your frozen face into the fur wrapped around you, you made your way to the camp slowly, dragging your feet in the cold mud.  

All eyes were on you as soon as you emerged from behind a large pine, the fire illuminating your tired face and messy hair. You bowed your head as your gaze met Bjorn’s, him giving you a small nod before returning his attention to Ubbe. You could see Hvitserk and Sigurd from the corner of your eye; eating and drinking ale. You wondered for a minute where Ivar was. Was he sleeping already? Or maybe just hiding in his tent? But as soon as the questions crossed your mind you got your answer, as you heard shuffling noises coming from your right.

You refused to look him in the eye thought, even as he murmured your name loud enough for only you to hear, begging you to stay. Swallowing the lump in your throat you marched towards your small private tent – the perks of being close to all the Ragnarssons.

He has been like this even since you’ve sailed off. Always nearby, asking you to hear him out whenever the two of you were alone. But you did not want to listen to him. It was too hard – having him right there, but not being able to touch him, love him like you used to. Who were you kidding? You still loved him, and you always would. But you couldn’t have him, not under these circumstances. Not when his soon-to-be wife was patiently waiting for him back home. You were not this kind of woman.

Branches cracked under your heavy boots, letting everyone know you were leaving even though you’ve just arrived. You thought you heard him let out a loud sight, but you weren’t sure anymore – your mind has been playing tricks on you these days. You always felt like someone was nearby, observing you. But when you turned around none was ever here.

Hvitserk called out your name, making you stop in your tracks and turn around. He offered you some food and with a gesture of his hand and a nod of his head asked you to sit next to him. He was concerned, you could tell. The way his brows furrowed and his lips formed a tight line gave it away. You knew they’ve all been worried about you ever since… ever since that night when Ivar left you.

But the worst part was that they didn’t even know what happened. Yours and Ivar’s relationship was a secret. None was aware of you two meeting every night; spending that time tangled under your sheets; breathing heavily as your bodies moved together. Not even his brothers. So when you started acting strangely – spending less time on the training grounds, avoiding them and barely speaking to them, the Ragnarssons got curious and started asking questions. But you always brushed them away with a small smile and a carefree wave of your hand, saying they wouldn’t understand.

Smiling at him, you shook your head slowly, declining his offer, and you could practically hear him sigh even from where you were standing, on the other side of the burning fire. You weren’t even that hungry but the way he looked at you, with pity, his eyes filled with what resembled sadness, made you feel uncomfortable and guilty. He was like a brother to you, they all were. And it pained you to see him like this, all because of you.

Closing your eyes for a second, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves before re-opening them again. Your heartbeat quickened as you noticed the youngest son of Ragnar sitting on the log next to his brother now. How did he even get there so quickly? With another slow puff, you smiled at Hvitserk once more before turning back around, leaving the group behind as fast as your aching legs would let you.

You had a long day ahead of you and needed to rest. If the weather conditions permitted it, your army was to attack tomorrow. You had to be ready.

Shouts and grumbles of impatient warriors woke you at an ungodly hour. Squinting your eyes, you peered to your left only to be met with nothing; like you did every morning for the last couple of months. It was automatic, really. A bad habit. One you couldn’t wait to get rid of.

Your night had been really short but eventful; filled with realistic dreams of the only man whom you did not wish to dream of anymore. You’ve woken up more than once, sweat pooling down your flushed face, shivers running down your spine as your eyes wandered around the dark shadows in a search of him. But he wasn’t here, and deep down you were grateful of that.

Throwing the furs off your body, you got up and immediately put on your armour. The smell of freshly roasted chicken reached your nostrils and as in on cue, your stomach grumbled. Peering out of your tent, you easily spotted where the mouth-watering scent came from and made your way there; greeting a few fellow Vikings on your way.

You sat near the shield maidens, not paying much attention to their conversation as you dig in; barely chewing before swallowing. You probably looked like Hvitserk at the moment, very unwomanly like, but you couldn’t care less. You were starving.

Deep in thought about the oncoming battle, you did not notice the man who a few feet away from you just as you reached for a second piece of meat. You did not feel his eyes on you; so soft and filled with love. He just sat there, silent. Taking in your features he had missed so much.

Leaving you was the hardest thing Ivar had to do in his life so far. He loved you, yet he left. Deep down, Ivar felt like he never was enough for you. So he believed leaving you was the best thing to do. He knew you would find someone new; someone who’d make you smile wider and laugh louder than he did. A nice Viking who would take good care of you; not an irritable and stubborn man like him. He believed you deserved to be with someone who would fill all of your desires and turn your life into dream. Not with a selfish young brat with a passion for murder and blood.

So when Bjorn introduced him to the blonde woman, a princess of some sort, he saw it as an opportunity. He did not love her like he loved you; he couldn’t even stand the woman. She was too fragile, too shy for him. She was weak and boring, always complaining about everything; while you were the strongest woman he has ever met, always with a smile plastered to her face. She was your polar opposite.

But he couldn’t marry a warrior; it was way too risky and complicated. So he went with Bjorn’s offer, and decided to marry the so-called princess.

Clearing his throat, he finally got your attention. Ivar smiled uncomfortably as the look of pure panic crossed your bright E/C eyes. But you did not budge and he sighed in relief, settling back in a more comfortable position with his legs thrown straight in front of him. He ran his hands up and down his tights, easing the pain. You diverted your eyes away from them as soon as you caught yourself staring, although you knew he did not mind. You’ve seen his legs on multiple occasions; he wasn’t ashamed of them in front of you.

Looking around you’ve only now noticed the few women who surrounded you only minutes ago were now gone and the closest person was a slave cleaning some armours, standing what seemed like miles away from the log you were sitting on.

Throwing the last chicken bone into the still burning fire, you cleaned your hands using your tunic. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears growing louder and faster, but you refused to move, to say anything.

What did he want? Didn’t he see how he was just making things more difficult by trying to get to you every single day? You could see him shuffle from the corner of your eye, his body moving an inch closer to yours. He took in a deep breath before opening his mouth.

“I don’t want you at the front of the line today, Y/N.” He said softly, making your brows furrow. You turned to face him and was met with the big blue eyes you’ve missed so much. But you could not believe what he was saying. You were one of his best warriors, always in the first row.

“What?” You asked, your breath short and voice sharp it made him gulp slowly, leaving you quite satisfied.

“I want you to stay back, only attack if you really have to.” You were beyond enraged by now. Standing up, you huffed and were ready to stamp off when he grabbed you tightly by the wrist, bringing your body closer to his. You gasped at the sudden movement, your messy hair falling into your eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt, love.” And as this word left his mouth, you lost it. The way his blue eyes bore into yours, the way his lips curved as his thumb caressed the dry skin of your wrist was way too much for you to handle on such a day.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Ivar.” Breaking away from his grasp, you brought your hand to your chest holding it there as for a few more seconds you stared into his mesmerizing eyes. You gave him a stern look to which he responded with another small smile before you turned around, marching back towards your tent to get your shield and get ready to leave; blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your puffy cheeks.  

You were stubborn, extremely stubborn. And as much as Ivar wanted to yell at you from his chariot; chase you and reprimand you for disobeying his orders, he couldn’t. Instead he smiled a smile barely visible to the human eye. He was scared, terrified even. But also so proud of the warrior you had become.

He watched from afar as you ran among the others Vikings; your shield securely placed in front of you and your sword pointing towards the enemy. You looked furious; your body radiating such energy. He could practically hear you growl and see your eyes darken as you made your way to the front, slashing bodies on your way. His breath hitched as he saw the Saxon’s blood splash over your gorgeous face. A wicked smirk pulled at the corners of your lips as some of it reached your tongue, the metallic taste taking over your senses.

The way your body moved so freely, so naturally, got him in a trance. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. That is until Floki shouted his name, giving him an annoyed look before he took off, an axe in his hand.

The battle was in full swing, the Saxons defending themselves well; but Ivar had faith in his army. He had no doubt about their victory. His victory. His blue eyes shone with mischief as he watched his man slaughter the poor bastards, laughing occasionally as some of them begged for mercy on their knees.

He looked from his chariot as his army progressed leaving massacred, bloodied bodies behind. Screams, groans and the smell of blood filled the chilly air, leaving the prince grinning, satisfied. He felt at the top of the world, as if Odin himself was patting him on the back. His heart full with pride.

Defeated, the Saxons started to retreat, running away from the Heathen’s army as fast as their damaged physiques let them. Moving his chariot forward, Ivar smirked; his cheeks almost ached. He had led his people to victory.

But the moment was short lived as from the corner of his eye he saw the familiar mess of H/C hair, lying motionless on the ground. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he practically threw himself off the chariot, crawling his way over the dead bodies until he reached you.

Turning you around, his worried eyes examined your frame, his hands immediately moving up to cup your cold face. You were alive. He could feel your faint pulse under his thumb as he stroke it down your neck, letting him know that your heart was still beating. His breaths grew heavier and his hands clammy as he frantically looked around, silently praying to the Gods to send a healer your way.

A small whimper followed by a cough made him turn back to face you, his mouth hanging agape. Your beautiful E/C eyes fluttered open, focusing on him as you tried to push yourself up onto your elbows – but you gave up as soon as you tried, an agonizing pain taking over your left side. Looking down you noticed a dark patch of thick blood coating your tunic. You let your head fall back down, only for Ivar to catch it before it hit the hard ground.

“Don’t move.” He murmured as you reached for the wound with your free hand, chocking on his words. Your eyes met his once more and you couldn’t help but to smile at how concerned he looked.

“I’m alright.” You replied tiredly, coughing out some blood. Alarmed, Ivar brought your body closer to his; holding you to his chest as his hand moved to your side; covering the wound so you wouldn’t bleed out.  Your head felt heavy and your mind dizzy; your vision blurred. Yawning, you decided to close your eyes only to open them seconds later as the blue-eyed Viking called your name.

“Don’t close your eyes.” His fingers played with your hair as he looked down at you, paying close attention to the sounds and expressions you made. What was he even on about? Furrowing your brows, you scoffed, burying your head into his warm chest. You could feel him yell more than you could hear it; his chest swelling up and vibrating as he called for help.

Heavy footsteps made the ground around you shake as you laid immobile in Ivar’s arms; breathing in and out, in and out slowly. You felt good, really. At peace. You were finally back in the arms of your lover; back where you belonged. A hint of guilt pinched at your heart as you remembered the princess back in Kattegat but it did not last long, as another pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your spent body; lifting you off Ivar’s lap.

And that’s when you realised you weren’t alright. Your whole body felt numb and cold. You could feel that the tip of your nose, your fingers and your toes were frozen. You could feel blood and saliva running down your exposed neck; the wound on your side opening up as the person carried you somewhere. You cried out, with all the force you had left. Screaming in agony as they placed you on a wooden floor.

“I’m right here, love.” His voice was trembling, soft yet filled with so many different emotions. Pain, fear, dread. He wasn’t ready to lose you. Not now, not ever. He was planning on talking to you after the battle, not letting you go until you listen to him this time. He wanted to tell you he was going to leave her, and be with you again.

He was going to hold you, kiss you and eventually make love you again, after all those months. It was all organised in his mind. You were supposed to go back to Kattegat together, and get married. You’d move in with him and start a family. He couldn’t care less about what his men or his brothers would say. He wanted you and only you. You were the right person for him.

But now here you were, lying in his arms again while his older brother drove the chariot to the camp. He was convinced everything would go back to normal, but once again he could feel it slip right through his fingers.

Tears filled your eyes as you watched him bite on his lower lip nervously. Were you going to die? Gods, you hoped not.

“I- Ivar.” You chocked out, groaning at how dry your throat felt. His focus was on you in a second, blue eyes boring into yours. You gave him a reassuring smile, your right hand moving up to his face. He did not try to stop you but moved his face into your palm instead. You felt him relax under your touch, your thumb tracing circles on his hot skin. He was so warm compared to you.

“Rest, Y/N. They’re going to take care of you.” He said and you swear you saw a single tear run down his cheek. You nodded your head slowly, relieving in his warmth and his sweet calming words. “I love you, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

His words were the only thing keeping your head out of the water; giving you strength and will. You could only nod and hoped the way you looked up at him was enough to let him know that you loved him too.

The noise around you increased; voices and hushed grew louder – signalling you were almost there.

Taking one last glance at the man of your dreams, your lips curved into a small smile. You loved him; you trusted him with your whole life. You knew he was going to get you out of here; take good care of you.

Ivar’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly – letting you know he was right here, and he would always be from now on. Closing your eyes, you finally let yourself relax knowing you were going to be taken care of. Knowing that when you open them again, the first thing you’ll see will be him and that you’ll never have to keep them away from him ever again.

A/N: I hope y’all weren’t expecting a great ending; you should know by now that I suck at these lol

anonymous asked:

Do you have any pirate prompts?

1) “Ah,” the pirate flashed a smile, sword pressing against my throat. “There’s the treasure I’ve been looking for.”

2) “We can’t keep doing this,” the naval officer muttered. They didn’t look over at the pirate as they picked their clothes off the floor - couldn’t. 
“Relax, officer. Nothing counts in international waters. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

3) “We found this below deck.” They tossed the protagonist forward, half delirious from hunger. Unused to the rock of the ocean beneath them. But they’d had to get away - no matter what it took. Their breath came as hard as the wooden deck beneath their knees, struggling a little to stay upright with the ocean churning welcome for a storm.  “Been hiding for a while, it seems.” 
“A spy?”

4) Finally, after years of cat and mouse, they’d finally caught themselves the most dangerous pirate captain on the seven seas. They took utter relish in striding over the infamous deck of their ship, claiming it for their own. They studied each other, and the captain reached out to trace the line of a scar they’d left branded on the pirate’s cheek. Tracing it across their eye, watching that defiant glare flutter closed at the feather of a touch. “Why did you leave?” the navy captain asked. They’d been partners, once. Their triumph faded in their face.

5) “We don’t have anything worth stealing,” they bit out. It was a small coastal village, they lived peacefully, without much contact with the larger ports and harbours. It seemed inconceivable that a pirate ship would ever come here. They were always further up the coast. 
“You have a siren. Where is she?” 
The villagers looked at each other in utter bewilderment. 
Head bowed, the siren trembled in her human disguise. 

6) They’d been held prisoner on the ship for two weeks. The attack gave them the opportunity to escape - deliverance in the hands of bloodshed, salvation in the ominous black of a pirate’s flag. They scrambled across the chaos on deck, only for their breath to stutter as they were hauled up. “Now, ain’t you supposed to be the captain, sweetheart?” 

7) “They’ve come for you,” said the pirate. They stared at the Admiral’s men stonily, panting for breath. “I told you, they’d come.” Their captain always did.

8) The pirate dropped to their knees on deck before the sea, as she rose and rose; goddess and mistress, who ruled them all. The ocean. Cool fingers caressed weather-worn and battered skin, playful and dangerous all at once. “You look tired, my love.” 

9) “They call you the compass.” The pirate captain circled the sailor, hungry and intent. “That you can always point to the spot of greatest treasure on any map given you.” 
“That’s a fairytale.” 
“Is it?”

10) It was a ship at the bottom of the sea, moving in darkness too deep for light to penetrate, where old things stirred and older things waited in the silence. In the end, all sailors were brought to its crew.

A magic large air bubble at the bottom of the sea contains a town. Life is peaceful. Life on the surface is pretty crowded. The villagers here have learned how to hold their breath for a long period of time, can hunt on the ocean floor, and built a chain going from the surface to the bottom. In order to not disrupt ocean life, the spell allows sea creatures to some and go as if they were swimming through water.

A large number of fish have started gathering overhead, bringing sharks and other predators.

The ocean floor is moving. A tsunami is coming. Rifts open up. Debris from the land is falling on the town.