i hope no one kills me or comes after me for this

Journeyman - Chapter 26

“Don’t get me wrong, love, I’m going to miss you. Who is going to force feed me coffee every morning? Who will laugh at all my jokes? What if I kill our plants? I mean, I think I’m okay with the succulents but we’ve got herbs now. That’s a lot of pressure.”

I snorted. “I think you can keep the mint and parsley alive for a few weeks.”

“I don’t know, Bee. The basil always gets a bit wilty when it sees me coming but it perks right up when you’re around it.”

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Toffee and The Prophecy

I already said a couple of things about this theory as skleero (replying to a post made by loosescrewslefty) but I want to make an entire post about it.
Please forgive me but this is going to be pretty long, but I hope to spark some discussion here and there (and the hiatus-flu is already killing me so…).

As we all know, Toffee called Marco “a disappointment” during the Season Finale. But why? What was he expecting from dorky human teenager Marco Diaz? He’s just a human, after all.

Toffee looks very cultured about most of the wand’s magic powers and apparently has a history with the Butterfly family. He knows some deep stuff that no one outside of Star’s family seems to know, like the existence of the Whispering Spell and, most importantly, the fact that it was the first spell the Queen supposedly taught to Star.

Now, there’s this theory (one that I really like) that says “Every wand bearer comes with a companion.” (the latter being a term that fellow Whovians know very well). There are no “rules” for being a companion: it may be a friend, a lover, a sibling, or whatever; it’s just this ally-figure that tends to join the wand bearer in his/her adventures. This may be one reason why Toffee was bothered by Marco: he’s the current companion (Star’s), so he was expecting something more from him, but he’s just a smol, sarcastic kid.

However, let’s keep pretending stuff for a moment and consider yet another theory. Cue the so-called “prophecy room” from St. Olga’s.

Ignore the big Moon for now and simply focus on the star and the sun-like symbols (and where Star and Marco are respectively standing). It’s been accepted that these symbols represent -big shock here- Star and Marco. Alternatively, the symbols are what the wand looks like when in Star’s and Marco’s hands (yes: “and”, not “or”); let’s consider this latter scenario as true.

Now, the Moon. Apparently, as confirmed by Daron Nefcy (I believe during this summer), the Queen’s name is Moon, but since it’s Star and Marco we’re talking about here, the Moon in St.Olga’s prophecy chamber may very well be…

…the Blood Moon.
See? The prophecy room is starting to make sense… kinda, to me at least.
“Two entwined souls will make stuff happen”. Not really epic-sounding, but I think you know where this is going. 

Back to Toffee and how he knows LOTS OF THINGS, it’s possible that he knows about this prophecy-thing too. Like, he knows exactly how it works and he’s been waiting for the right moment since… forever. Most importantly, he knows that Star is part of it, which may be also part of the reason of why he has a “history” with the royal family: because he was there when Star was a little child; so, following the “companion” theory, Toffee was the Queen’s (who was the wand bearer back then) companion: certainly not her lover (she was already married to King River), just an old friend, an advisor (for both the King and the Queen). But when the Butterflys found out his schemes, his ambiguous interests in the young princess Star, he was banished or something. There was also a fight and the Queen blasted off his finger with a powerful spell (that’s why he can’t brow it back). 

This also explains why Toffee seems to be kinda “gentle” to Star, while confronting her in the climax: he’s known her since she was a little child, so he kinda feels attached to her, like a distant uncle of some sort, despite everything.

Let’s recap for a moment: every wand bearer comes with a companion; there’s a prophecy going on, according to the chamber in St.Olga’s; Toffee is aware of this prophecy and is actively trying to make it happen.

The fact that Toffee was introduced in Fortune Cookies, the episode that aired alongside (and right after) Blood Moon Ball, is no coincidence: the backstabbing reptile basically thought “It’s time…and showed up just as Star and Marco’s souls were entwined, thus confirming his years of studies on the prophecy and his suspects on Star herself: she, as the wand-bearer, and her human companion, are the “entwined souls” foretold by the ancient prophecy.

However, as we said earlier, the prophecy’s symbols do not represent Star and Marco, but their wands. Yes: “their”. So here (patiently) comes the first phase of Toffee’s plan. We need two functioning wands to fulfill this prophecy.

And that’s exactly what he (almost) got in the Season Finale.
One wand is obviously for Star.
The other will be for…

And the prophecy finally makes sense.

“Two entwined souls blessed by the Blood Moon are destined to battle each other…”

“…and their powers combined shall bring the apocalypse/darkness/whatever.”

Or… something like that.

This finally brings us back to Toffee’s “You’re a disappointment!” line to Marco. As we said, if we consider as legit the “companion” theory, this may be one of the reasons: the safe kid doesn’t look like a brave companion to a fierce, magical wand bearer like Star.

But since Toffee knows that Marco is not just “Star’s companion”, but a huge part of this prophecy, a “pawn” just as important as the magical princess, he’s expecting a lot from him. Just compare how differently he talks to Star and Marco: he’s very kind and gentle to the princess, even somewhat admiring her powers and skills. With Marco, however, he’s always serious, unimpressed, disappointed. Because he was probably expecting him to be a mighty, great warrior of some sort (just like her), a “worthy” pawn of this ancient prophecy. Instead, all the reptile got was sarcastic teenager with a big mouth.

“Really? That’s the companion soul foretold by the prophecy? How unfortunate…”

So… that was my theory.
Sorry for the long post.

sad tc post
  • not to be depressing but the worst thing about having a TC is the longing. my heart longs for him. and i know that i cannot have him. i know that it is wrong to want him. i know that it is selfish to love him and to want him to love me and only me back. and it hurts that my fantasies, my daydreams will never be a reality. it hurts that all my hope that one day just maybe something might occur, will only be of a disappointment. graduation will come soon enough and after that we will never talk. he will not remember me. but guess what? i'll probably be thinking about him every goddamn minute of every god forsaken day. and it fucking kills.
Assassin's Creed {Sentence Starters}
  • "I don't care. It's not approval I'm after, just power."
  • "You need a more creative outlet."
  • "How can I regret the only life I have ever known?"
  • "Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings."
  • "You'd kill people simply for believing differently from you?"
  • "I feel many things. Nausea above all."
  • "Unless the legend is a lie, you are the man I long to meet."
  • "Your schemes, like you, are put to rest."
  • "I've waited too long, lost too much."
  • "I've always had a soft spot for women in distress."
  • "They want me dead. Me! Can you imagine?"
  • "I expect an apology on my return."
  • "I hope there is another life after this one."
  • "Don't save me a spot in hell. I ain't coming soon."
  • "Oh no, God forbid I take a break!"
  • "Can you lend a hand? Perhaps a blade?"
  • "I have seen what comes of those who raise themselves above others."
  • "Why? Why have you done this?!"
  • "I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly."
  • "The people never have the power, only the illusion of it."
  • "You'll pay for this. You and all your kind."
  • "You will be remembered first as a hero. Later as a legend."
  • "Is this my reward for believing the best about men?"
  • "Aside from the failure and the hatred, I envy you very much."
  • "There is no time. I will have to chance direct approach."
  • "Are you not loved at home?"

anonymous asked:

can you write a fluffy sterek where Derek proposes to Stiles and its all cute and romantic???

So there are a lot of proposal fics in this fandom, I don’t know if this is anything new, but I’ve also been wanting to write the ‘be my person’ idea for a while, so I kind of killed two birds with one stone (metaphorically speaking, of course)… Thanks for the prompt, nonnie! Hope you enjoy!

“Dereeeekkkkk,” Stiles slurs happily, falling into his arms. “Hi, dude! What’re you doing here?”

Derek looks pointedly past him to the club, where someone stumbles out the door, flashing lights and music spilling after them, giggles, and then slams into the wall.

“When you started drunk texting me about my beard I figured it was probably time for me to come get you,” Derek says, slipping an arm around Stiles’ waist where he’s sagging against the light post, “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

“Noooo,” Stiles whines, abruptly petulant, “You should come inside and dance!! I’m trying to find someone pretty to kiss me. Not as pretty as you. But kinda pretty. I want to kiss someone kinda pretty.”

“Come on,” Derek says again, tugging him towards the car he left running, “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“You could dance too!” Stiles says, still pulling against Derek in a fruitless attempt to steer them into the club, “Dude, you remember how I know you’re bi but I’m not supposed to tell? I’m not gonna tell. But there are really pretty guys in there. I could not get them but you totally could. Don’t you want to kiss someone pretty?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighs, as Stiles sways against his body and throws his own arm around Derek’s shoulder, “But not tonight.”

“Mm’kay,” Stiles says, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder. “Sleepy time.”

“No,” Derek says, “Let’s get you home and you can drink some water. Then you can sleep.”

“Sleep here,” Stiles sighs, warm air brushing his neck, “Night night.”

“Hey,” Derek says, shaking him awake long enough to slide him into the passenger seat, “I thought you wanted to go kiss somebody.”

“I changed my mind,” Stiles says, and then looks gloomily out the window.

Derek sighs, shutting the door. Stiles is distractible on his best days, but when drunk, he changes moods more than Lydia changes clothes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Derek asks, putting the car in gear.

“Nothin’” Sitles says, tipping his forehead against the cold window. “This was supposed to be a good night, you know? I was supposed to distract myself from all the happy.”

“The happy?”

“Yeah, you know, everybody’s so happy right now. Everybody’s in loveeee. Why can’t I be in love? I just want to kiss someone pretty, that’s all. And then be in love with them. I just want to be someone’s person, you know?”

“No,” Derek says honestly. At this point, he’s not sure if it’s Stiles talking, or the liquor.

“You know, people have a person. Like… Like Scott and Kira. Or Lydia and Cora. I want a person. I want to be a person.”

“You are a person,” Derek says helplessly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Stiles says, looking as though he might cry. “It’s like… who do you call first? When you have an extra ticket, who do you take? Who do you want to see before you go to bed? Who would you call to bury the body? Your person.”

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, but Stiles keeps talking.

“I used to be Scott’s person. But now he has Kira to be his person, but he’s still my person, but I want my person to be the person who wants me as their person.”

“You’re my person,” Derek tells him honestly, “All that stuff… you’re my person, I guess.”

“Noooo,” Stiles moans, “it doesn’t count! Everybody else gets to kiss their person.”

“Right,” Derek says stiffly. “And you don’t want to kiss me.”

Stiles turns his head and takes a long look at him. “Nevermind,” he says softly. “It doesn’t matter.”

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fathomless-a  asked:

How about Jughead and Betty having a date in the woods and suddenly the whole gang shows up and ruined their romantic date? 😬🙊

CHARACTERS: Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews, Kevin Keller
TIME FRAME: After S01E07
LOCATION: The woods
SUMMARY: Betty & Jughead plan a date in the woods, but the entire gang follows them and thus ends up ruining their date.
NOTES: I had so much fun writing this one! I’m always critical about my writing and never end up liking anything I write, but I rather like the connection between the beginning and the ending of this one. I hope readers enjoy this one shot as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, tell me what you think. Don’t hesitate to request and send in more prompts!

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The End

Twelfth installment of the Castiel “At First Sight” series (“At First Sight” - “You’re Growing On Me” - “Under His Wing”- “Wandering Thoughts” - “Warrior Of Heaven”-“When You Wake” - “The Ultimatum” - “A First Glimpse” - “A Flared Soul” - “A Final Farewell” - “The Crosshairs”). Requested by so, so many of you after the cliffhanger, but no one supplied any real request so… requested by me: “There was no request so I’m kinda just goin’ for it here and I’m going to write whatever thoughts come to mind please don’t kill me.” Regardless of what happens in this installment, and we’re going in blind, you have the power to resurrect anything or anyone. I hope you like it.

(All past and future installments can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page)

The chill of metal seeped through the fabric at your stomach like melting ice, the tip of Ansiel’s angel blade pricking along your skin like a needle, the blade’s frigid temperature thrown into starker contrast by the heat washing over the rest of your terrified form. You felt the flush of your every heartbeat scorch against your cheeks, your temples throbbing as your body prepared for what would likely be an impossible fight for freedom. His hold on you was unbreakable, other-worldly in its strength; there was no escape unless your captor willingly released you… a feat you knew would never have crossed his mind. To Ansiel, you were no more than a vermin, a strange, hostile breed of venomous rat, slowly but surely infecting his home (and in doing so, infecting his brother), your very presence heralding doom. You weren’t a person, to him; you were something to be exterminated. Your ear was pressed into the crease of his elbow, his bicep flexing against your head, his hold on your neck tight enough to cause some minor difficulties in breathing, but weak enough to show that your death was not underway in this moment. His hold was not intended to strangulate, but one wrong move would easily result in a broken neck. Simple as snapping a toothpick, your life would end. There was no point in a struggle you would not survive. If it hadn’t been plain to you in Ansiel’s hold around your throat, or the blade he held at your stomach, it was clear in the mute horror present in Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel’s wings, so swathed in darkness, began to hiss, the angels on either side of him shifting their hands to better hold him steady, their muscles straining visibly as his wings threatened to lift his otherwise compliant body from the earth. His eyes never left the blade Ansiel held at your stomach, watching the tip as if averting his gaze would plunge it into your body. Ansiel’s foot slithered through your own two feet, guiding your step forward as he advanced, keeping you bent backwards against his chest, thieving any hopes of balance, your body twitching along in front of him as he drew nearer to your lover. His wings, unruly as they acted now at the sight of your immediate peril, had sense enough not to reach for you, their first desire to take flight overwhelmed by a new, necessary desire for your safe release. The ebony quills, darker than you could have ever imagines them, trembled as you drew closer, bristling feathers shifting between obsidian and a woolen grey, sparked through with veins of a thick, deeper-than-black color than could only embody the terror gripping your body. The tendrils of this unnamed hue were pulsing with the frantic beat of your own heart, rich colour polluting the crystalline beauty his wings once possessed. In places, the lights above clung to patches of scarlet where Castiel had clearly been injured; his wings had been battered by blade and fist alike, feathers missing in large clumps, blood pouring from the open wounds those feather left behind. He was in better shape than you had hoped while simultaneously being in worse shape than you could have tolerated. The blade flinched against your stomach when Ansiel stopped his march, a whelp striking the inside of Ansiel’s palm as it closed over your mouth, his skin swallowing your involuntary cry of pain, however minor. Dean thrashed against his captor’s hold, his eyes alight with fury, peridot irises blazing with a rage you had yet to witness within the man. He’d been hunting with you long enough to know the sounds you made when you’d been injured, and he was far from pleased to hear them now. Castiel’s eyes, however, remained locked on the weapon held against you, no matter how much you wished he would meet your stare. A tear fell from your eye, coaxed over your waterline by panic and fear, meeting the edge of Ansiel’s finger, water pooling along his skin to travel down the backside of his hand.

You assessed the situation as quickly and efficiently as one can when one is held captive at knife-point. Your scattered thoughts of self-preservation and worry for the safety of those you loved organized, and for one fleeting moment, you were able to absorb your surroundings. Ansiel had moved your forward enough to allow for closer examination of, and by, Castiel. He was far enough away that, even if he ran, Ansiel would be able to harm you before you could be reached. The distance was strategic, organized. Sam and Dean were on either side of the angel on trial, forming points on a charted map. You’d all walked into place as if you knew your marks. You were pawns on Ansiel’s board, nervously awaiting checkmate. Ansiel tightened his grip on your throat then, wrenching your thoughts away from hopeless strategy back to the urgency of your current predicament.

“Castiel, look how she has mangled you.” Ansiel muttered, his voice slippery and vile, tainted by the bravery and courage of one who believes themselves to be in the right, his chin pressing your ear against the side of your head, his cheek at your temple. “See how this maggot has brought us to this! Brother, look at her, and see what she has caused!” Castiel’s eyes flitted to your face for the first time in too long, his composure breaking like the foaming crests of waves from behind his ocean irises. A million apologies flooded along his waterlines, though not a single tear dared to drop. When Ansiel spoke again, his eyes focused on the angel’s face. “We have fallen again because of her! Because of what you’ve allowed! We’ve been driven to the highest extremes fathomable, all because of this… this… temptress! We have slain our own kind, our sisters and our brothers, we have watched those we love perish on the ends of the own blades because of her actions, and because of yours.” His breath polluted what little air you managed to choke don your throat, smelling strongly of ginger and of earth and of dust. Castiel’s lips relaxed into a thin line, his features organizing some to form a broken facade of diplomacy, his hands raised in surrender still. The blade dragged upward along your stomach as Ansiel’s position altered, his arm dropping from your throat to bar across your chest once more, your skin pulsating where the sword grazed. How strange, that your skin had not yet been broken by the angel so fervent on killing you. “Surely you must see the treachery she brings in her wake, the treachery she brings out in you. All you need do is look around you, Castiel, and see the carnage she creates. Let. This. End.” Ansiel voice offered no options, his command bellowing from wall to concrete wall, Castiel’s wings shivering like broken leaves as the sound rattled his feathers, their impossible hue darkening still. His lips parted slowly, cautiously, his hands unmoving in their position of peaceful defeat.

“If, brother, by speaking of an end, you mean killing her… you know I won’t do it,” Castiel spoke, his voice surprisingly steady when compared to his trembling wings and his busted facade. His eyes remained locked on Ansiel’s, offering a level of respect he could not possibly believe to be deserved, refusing to meet your gaze. you chanced a glance in Dean’s direction, finding his eyes hardened in fear, his jaw tense, eyes boring into yours. What he could not say spoke volumes; if Dean Winchester was afraid for you, you had next to no chance of survival. “Ansiel, you and I both know I had no say in this. Neither she nor I chose for this to happen. I see no evidence other than the carnage you have created in pursuing her that would have lead to this mess, and we have never punished the innocent for crimes they unknowingly committed.” Ansiel’s hold tightened, your chest constricting under the weight of his arm. “Let us go and I promise you, it will end,” Castiel assured, his face a mask of kindness, of professionalism, as if by negotiating for your life he was discussing the disadvantages of laying-off an employee, singing praises of their talents to prevent the higher-status boss from snipping their thread. Behind his eyes, though, laid a true terror, a pleading, suffering fear that he fought tooth and nail to keep bottled up within him. Unfortunately, teeth and nails have a habit of tearing things apart, and his anxiety was made clear as his faltering show of calm failed him. “You cannot possibly blame her for her humanity. You can’t blame me for loving her when it wasn’t a choice that I made-” At this, Ansiel scoffed, his hand shifting to your mouth, the movement causing the blade to scratch through the first layer of your skin, the tip puncturing you like a tack. It was a shallow wound hardly deep enough to draw blood, but painful nonetheless, your eyes screwing shut as you cried out. Castiel jumped at your cry, his eyes widening, his mouth opening in silent protest. Ansiel’s moved the blade to a more comfortable (if a knife at one’s stomach can be classified as such) position, his hand relaxing, allowing for easy breathing. Ansiel jilted your body, holding you tighter to him, your hands gripping his arms as you scrambled for balance.

“Choice, Castiel? You think this is about choice?” The angel laughed aloud, one breathy, unbelieving gust of air to pierce the otherwise quiet atmosphere. “This is about you, and this is about her. This is about the extent of your relationship, about the dangers that can and will arise because of your inability to see the worthlessness of this race! To see the ruin you will cause with her at your side!” He shouted, his voice piercing your ears like a dagger, his hand clenching at your chin to display your face to his small audience, your lips pursing as his fingers dug into your jaw. “She is a vessel for destruction, Castiel! It has to end!” The fluctuating frequencies his voice achieved now bordered on insanity, tone crackling like a growing fire, his hold on you dropping to your throat, hand clenching around your neck tight enough to make you squirm for air, for comfort, your hands clawing mindlessly at his arm, your movement causing the blade to prick along your stomach. You went relatively limp, save for your hands, which continued in their attempts to peel the angel from your throat. “I gave you a choice, Castiel, and you failed to keep your distance. You know what I must do.” Castiel started forward, his arms restrained by his captors, his outstretched hand yanked back to his side, wings shrieking behind him.

"Brother, don’t do this. Don’t allow your… your fear to end an innocent life.” Castiel’s voice was no longer serene, but broken in fear, in desperation, his eyes wide on Ansiel’s. “If you are looking to punish an instigator, punish me. I pursued her, I fought against the urges at first, but I am the one who began this. Punish me. Let her go,” Castiel cried, while Sam attempted to negotiate alongside him, his steady voice a beacon of unrealistic hope, his words cut off by a swift blow to his stomach, dealt by one of the two angels holding him in place. Dean’s thrashing continued, outraged by your ill-treatment and his brother’s, his eyes shifting from your face to Sam’s buckled body, a long string of profanity spewing from between his livid lips. Castiel pleaded openly, his eyes glimmering wetly. “She’s done nothing, Ansiel. If you hurt her… it will only end poorly on your part. Believe me when I say that there is no limit to what I, or the Winchesters, will do when it comes to her. So… please, please… don’t do this,” his eyes now shone bright with sorrow, with fear.

“Without her, I doubt there will be enough of you left to make a difference,” he replied, his hand on your throat dropping to the blade, arms locking you in place as both hands twisted into a comfortable position around the hilt. Your own hands reached out to wrap around his, to push him away, horror congealing in your stomach, his otherworldly strength overpowering you easily. Castiel screamed in protest, calling your name as your hands slipped against Ansiel’s, your attempts to keep his attack at bay fruitless against the unyielding power of Heaven. The metal shaft dove into your stomach without resistance, accompanied by an acute slicing sensation. Your uncovered mouth produced a an agonized scream you couldn’t place with your body, the pulsing in your ears numbing your body to all other sound. The blade carved through your body, making its tedious way deeper and deeper into your stomach. It tore through you like butter, Ansiel’s hands steady beneath your shaking palms. You stared at the blade as it grew shorter, the visible metal disappearing into your stomach until the majority of the sword was buried within you, a warmth rising in your throat, burning like bile and soothing like milk, your pulse the only sound in your ears. Crimson dripped wetly to the earth, dropping audibly first as tears, then like rain. Blood spurted over the handle of the blade, covering both your hands and Ansiel’s in a violent scarlet, your fingers struggling against the slick of your blood for purchase on Ansiel’s arms, fighting now not to push him away, but to cling to him for support. Your lips, wet with the heat of your blood, separated in wordless shrieks. Your eyes wrenched themselves away from the blood spilling from your stomach to find Castiel, his sapphire eyes frozen in shock, his mouth open over silent screams… and feathers… feathers falling to the concrete around him. He threw the angels from him, their arms constricting him seconds after his freedom, halting his dash to your side, is body recoiling as they pulled. Dean was screaming, you could see, his face flushed as his feet left the ground, writhing against the angels holding him steady. Sam’s features were stuck in fear, his mouth open over one long, soundless no, his arms tensing as he too struggled forward to save you.

Ansiel twisted the blade, buried up to its hilt in your stomach, your body lurching forward, your weak hands tightening on his own as he furthered his injury. Crippled forward, he stepped back, drawing the blade from your stomach as he did so, one of your hands reaching to cover your wound, the other extending outwards for help. Ansiel clasped his hand around yours as you reached for assistance, your vision going blurry. Patiently, slowly, he laid you on the ground, prying your fingers from his without struggle, a palm cradling your head before gently setting it onto the concrete. Gazing into your eyes, he frowned, as if disgusted by the mess he’d made in killing you, but apologetic for having done so. These apologies only went so far; he still deemed it necessary. His face blurred around the edges, your vision hazing as you blinked the tears from your eyes, your hands fluttering weakly against your torn abdomen. "I am truly sorry, brother. Perhaps now you will be able to clear your head.“ With that, he walked off, leaving you to bloody your hands as you fought to stop the bleeding, your eyebrows knitting together in pain. You called out for Castiel, your voice numb in your ears, though the vibrations scratched in your throat. There was nothing but ringing, impossibly loud ringing, as you assumed each feather fell screaming to the floor. You called for him once more, blood choking off the ending of his name, heat and fluid pouring from the corners of your mouth. Something fluttered against your hand. Though you no longer possessed the strength necessary to lift your head and look, you knew exactly what it was. You lifted a finger, trapping the single feather between them, holding onto with little strength you still possessed to your last shred of comfort. Clearly, someone upstairs thought you deserved to die with a little peace on your mind. One last spark of warmth flooding through your fingertips, a final kiss from his fallen wings, before you could feel nothing but the pain. You felt your hands slide from the blood-slick puddle of your stomach to the floor. Every other sensation fell just short of reaching your nerves. Your vision failed and in you blindness, you heard the last of the ringing fade into nothingness.

All was silent.

Title: Her Choice

Part1 , Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Summary: Sasuke returns home after almost a whole year and he is surprised to see Sakura talking to a man just outside her house. She’s smiling at him and- Was that a kiss?!
A/N:  WARNING! Jealous Sasuke ahead XD This one was written for a friend of mine. She kept bugging me for almost two weeks, and now it’s finally here…. It’s not going to be just a one shot, or else it would be incredibly long (even for my patterns XD). I’ve decided to post it now because I’m almost done with my tests, and you won’t have to wait too much for the next parts… Honestly, guys… This whole situation is killing me. I haven’t written anything since FOREVER!! Thankfully, I’ll fix this as soon as my last test ends! Well, I hope you enjoy it! Don’t forget to send me your opinion, guys!
Coming home was supposed to be something good for the Uchiha. It was supposed to bring him good sensation, make him feel nostalgic and happy to see his friends and formers mentors. It was supposed to make him happy to finally see her after 7 long months.

But that guy just ruined his return.

For she was the first person he would always see whenever he returned home, nothing had prepared him for what his eyes saw. It was still really early and there weren’t many people walking around the village by the time he crossed the entrance gates. The whole atmosphere enveloping Konoha was calm, and the whole path towards her apartment was serene. Everything around him was telling the Uchiha that good things were going to happen on that day, and for some reason he didn’t quite know, he believed in those things.

He believed that day would be a good day, for he would be able to see that silly smile of hers and he would also be able to hear her sweet voice welcoming him home. He would probably be the first person her emerald orbs would see that day, and he couldn’t wait to see that sleepy face of hers.

That day would be a good day.

Or that was what he thought before seeing her and another guy standing in front of her apartment.

What could be happening in between those two?

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Am I troyesivan yet?

Chanel Fashion Show (G-Dragon Scenario)

Requested by anonymous

Oh my god, this man is killing me with the tux at the Chanel show. Why is he doing this to me?! Sorry for the slight wait and I hope that you’ll like it, lovely anon ^^ Enjoy!

Summary: You broke up quite some time ago and meet by chance again at the Chanel Haute Couture Fashion Show in Paris.

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dare me & not so subtle subtext

the jordy brennan situation

Isn’t she pretty, Jordy?” I hear Beth’s ripping voice from somewhere, “when she looks into your eyes.” 

All of this moves me, powerfully, and the day feels rare, the dusk falling purple, and I must be drunk because I think I hear Beth’s voice far away, saying crazy things, asking me if I feel different, and loved.

and later on that night

Beth calls after, and we have a long-winding talk, the 40-ouncers still heavy on us both. 

She is asking if I remember how we used to hang on the monkey bars, hooking our legs around each other, and how strong we got and how no one could ever beat us, and we could never beat each other, but we’d agree to each release our hands at the count of three, and that she always cheated, and I always let her, standing beneath, looking up at her and grinning my gap-toothed, pre-orthodontic grin.

Such reminiscence is unlike Beth, but she is drunk and I think she may still be drinking, her mother’s V.S.O.P., and she sounds affected by our time at the gorge, and possibly by other things. 

I hate how everything changes, always,” she says. “But you don’t.

coach party w/o beth

Once, Beth and I had a night like this, the night before we started high school. Kiddie-like, we’d hooked her brother’s Swiss Army into our palms and pressed them tight against each other, and later Beth said she could feel my heart beating in my hand, her hand. She swore she could. We knew that meant something. Something had passed between us and would endure. We don’t talk about it anymore and it was a century ago, wars won and lost since then.

And, Beth, you’re not even here now.

morning after another coach party

You have always been soft to these things, Addy,” she says. “Last summer you were.

And I don’t want her to talk about last summer again, and all our bickerings at cheer camp when everyone thought we were busting up. Because this has nothing to do with that girly nonsense. 

I tell you, Adelaide, I know her kind.

Climbing over the back of the sofa, Beth swings her bare legs, nestling into me, and I’m listening but not listening because I don’t like that hitch in her voice. 

She better enjoy it while she can,” she rumbles, burrowing her head into the pillow I’ve tucked under my arm, burrowing her head into me, like always. “Because in a few years she’ll probably pop out another kid and her hips’ll spread like rising dough and before she knows it, she’ll be coaching field hockey instead.”

Twisting her fingers in my hair, she tunnels into me and the pillow behind me, hiding herself.

Who will want her then?” she asks.

Then answers.

None of us.”

beth waiting outside addy’s house (this entire scene tbh)

She is so transparent,” she says, eyeing me head to toe. “Now she wants to be your best friend, huh? Sharing secrets on her outlet mall sofa? She thinks she can work us like two-dollar whores. I hope you are not a whore, Addy. Are you a whore?

I don’t say anything.

Are you a whore?” she says, walking towards me, “and is Coach your sweet-lipped Mack Daddy whispering promises in your ear?

I was practicing,” I say. “She’s the coach.”

Beth folds her arms and stares me down.

I don’t say a word.

Haven’t you learned anything, Addy?” she says. I’m not sure what she means, but I know I have to settle her. 


I see something in her eyes I know from back when, from some girl-recesses of time spent hiding in playground tunnels together, nursing schoolyard wounds.

Nobody might understand about Beth because her seeming power overwhelms. But I can see behind things.

And so I find myself reaching my pinkie out to twine hers, and she shakes it off and gripes some more, about Coach’s treachery and false friend ways, but I do see her rest the smallest bit inside, her shoulders unhunching from a toadlike curl.

and massaging scene 

You were burning this tonight,” she says, so dark I can see nothing but the whites of her eyes, the silver eyeliner.

I was,” I murmur. “Back tucks.”

And there’s this sense that somehow she knows.

How did it feel?” she whispers. “To nail it.”

Like this,” I say, curling under the hard pressure from her hand. “But better.”

fighting about coach

I’ve been right before, other times. You believe people, just like cheer camp, with that St. Regina Flyer. That compulsive liar, Casey Jaye. And you licked it all up.

Beth, always sifting ancient history, scattering ashes at me. Always going back to last summer. It was our only fight and it wasn’t a fight really. Just stupid girl stuff.

I never thought you’d be friends again after that, RiRi said afterward. But we were. No one understands. They never have.

Beth, can’t you leave all this alone?” I say now, surprised at the strain in my voice. “You got what you wanted. You’re captain again and you can do whatever you want. So stop.”

It’s not my choice,” she says. “Something gets started, you have to see it through.”

See what through? What, Beth? What, Captain-My-Captain?

She pauses, clicking her teeth, an old habit from the days we both slid retainers around in our hanging-jaw girl mouths.

You don’t understand it, do you. All that’s happened. It’s all her.”

She leans back, spreading her long ponytail across her face, her mouth.

Then she says something and I think it’s, “She has your heart.

What?” I say, feeling something ping in my stomach, my hand fisting over it.

She has her part,” she says, brushing her ponytail from her face, “in all this.”

But I can’t believe I misheard her. Did I?

It’s not just me,” she says again, teeth latching and unlatching. “She has her part.”

I misheard.

during addy’s paranoia about the murder and coach’s part

Addy, I can’t make you believe me,” she says, looking down at me. “And as for you and Coach…

She lays her hand on my hand, like a benediction.

We are never deceived,” she says, her voice deep and ringing. “We deceive ourselves.

and there’s more - there’s a lot a lot a lot more but this is already a long post so uh yeah, enjoy. this is also my subtle way of telling everyone that it’s time to use new quotes xoxo

BTS reaction to you being scared of a spider

Anon said:  Hello^^ I really like your blog! I wanted to request a reaction of bts, where you are really scared because there is a big spider on your bed (that happened to me two days ago;-;) and do not want to go to sleep after they’ve killed it, because of the fear that another one might come into your room

- Helloo! :D Thank youu so much <3 Hope you enjoy the reaction! 

Jimin: “Don’t be scared jagii,there will be no more spiders! Now come here and cuddle with me” 

Originally posted by allforyoo

Jungkook: *looks at you while you stand on the other side of the room*
“He’s gone Y/N,don’t worry” he smiles
“What if another one comes?”
“I will protect you from it,like I did just now” *smiles* *eyebrow game strong*

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

J-Hope: “Don’t be scared Y/N,I am hereee” *kisses you all over your face*

Originally posted by infinitblaq

Rap Monster: *kills the spider*
“See babe,when you’re with me you are safe and don’t worry” *shows off his muscles and smiles*

Originally posted by rnamjoon

Suga: “You don’t have to be scared,your Suga man is here!”

Originally posted by jhopies

V: He would laugh at you because you’re so cute when you’re scared.
*takes your hand and pulls you towards him*
“Don’t be scared jagiii” *smiles* *kisses you*

Originally posted by hoesoks

Jin: He would wrap his arms around you and make you feel safe

Originally posted by syubtae

My Doctor Told Me I Was Underweight

I was recently having a lot of trouble with my health. I was really lightheaded, exhausted, felt weak all the time… I went to my doctor and she told me that at 5'4" and 102 pounds, I was a little underweight. She told me to try to gain 8-10 pounds and then come back to talk with her after.

I posted on the internet, “What’s a healthy way to gain weight?” wanting suggestions. Maybe some naturally fatty foods like avocado and whole milk or something. I didn’t want to fill my body with sugar and processed foods because I would just be replacing one health issue with another.

I hope your eating disorder kills you. Thin privilege. Vain. Slut. Bitch. Anorexic. Attention whore. Gross. Ugly. Conceited. Skank. Plastic. Fake. Shallow. Disgusting…..

I got no suggestions. Not one. Only insults.


Because she’s still a fool, too.

Cue “Id - Dilemma“ on forever repeat haha

Here’s a comic I drew for chrobinprompts wonderful prompt, in which Grima!Robin remembers Chrom long after she killed him.
Gods that story ruined me lol. And yet it’s one of my faves ;v; 

Keep reading

  • what she says: I'm fine.
  • what she means: Why is everyone so chill with Ahsoka's ambiguous fate bullcrap? The whole scene of her walking into the Sith temple after confronting Vader was just silly. It should have been left out of the episode. That's my wife and she deserves to either live or die. You either have Vader stab her boom goodbye or she lives on to appear in season 3. But now you leave me, and countless others, wondering what really happened. I'm seeing people on Tumblr.com yelling that Ahsoka is 100% dead. How do you explain that? Do you mean to imply that the artsy scene of her walking into the temple was just her ghost? I'm also seeing all these weirdos on here that are like "yeah bruh it was an amazing scene~ that was some A+ poetic justice~ there's no death, there is only the force whee" no. no. I mean come on now. If you're gonna kill my fave, just kill her. On an IGN interview, Dave Filoni confirmed that Ahsoka will never be on Rebels again. So why the ambiguity? Filoni stated "Rebels is not Ahsoka Tano’s story" but now, since you failed to successfully kill her, I will be wondering about Ahsoka throughout the continuation of Rebels. He said "I think there are stories to be told prior to Rebels with her", so why would you leave her alive? She will stay in that temple for eternity and gather dust. I will be 88 years old, on my death bed asking my grandchildren what really happened to Ahsoka. Will Ahsoka ever make another appearance in anything? Were the writers too afraid to just kill her off? Can we all just blame Disney? When will we have answers? I need to know before it's too late
unpopular opinions
  • i think cas has overstayed his welcome on the show. i loved his character in season 4/5/6, but after that, it began to feel like the writers were only keeping him on the show because they didn’t want to upset the cas/destiel fans. he doesn’t seem to have a place in the story anymore, and it’s like they’re just coming up with random things for him to do to keep him out of the main plot half the time. they should have killed him off after 7x02 “hello cruel world”. 
  • i never saw the appeal with charlie. i wanted to like her, but it felt like after her introduction episode, i just lost interest in her.
  • i hate gabriel. like im not even gonna get into why because i thought?? he shouldn’t?? have been a likable character anyway???? i was genuinely surprised when i joined tumblr and found out ppl actually like that asshole. and dont even get me started on sabriel… if there is one ship in this fandom that doesnt make sense to me, its sabriel. like at no point on the show did they have chemistry, and sam hates gabriel (with good reason). i dont understand it.
  • i HATE claire. they went down the wrong route with the way they reintroduced her character. you know what would have been a cool way to reintroduce her character? after her mom left to search for jimmy and her grandma died (as happened in the show), claire started researching, looking for a way to kill angels. she would get her hands on some holy oil, learn a couple banishing signals, and start tracking down a couple lower-rank angels, which she would then trap and interrogate for information on castiel, the angel who broke her family apart and stole away her father. she’d get herself an angel blade from one of the angels she captured, and, after learning that castiel was with the winchesters, kill her way to cas. personally, i think that would have been a much better way to bring her back.
Nalu: 33: Celebrity/Fan

Sort of fan, moderate fan I suppose. Oh well, hope you like it :)


“I don’t see why I have to come to this Erza. These are your friends, doing your stupid fights, not mine.”

Erza gazed back to me, a polite smile on her lips, “Oh come on Lucy, at least try to enjoy yourself? I have to cheer them on, they always do for me.”

I hated MMA fighting. And I hated that one of my best friends was an MMA fighter, she had no idea how scared shitless I was for her, even if she had never lost a match. I’ve never actually seen a full match per say, but I saw snippets on it on the TV and when I picked up Erza after matches. I saw the aftermath, and that alone was enough to make me dislike it. Why would people punch and nearly kill each other for fun? What was the sense in that??

Me and Erza slid in between people in the stands, walking down to the front row seats as everyone took their places before the fight started.

“Who even are we here to see?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

I looked around and saw a mix of signs people were holding up, some that said Salamander and others that said Black Steel.

“Natsu. He’s a good friend of mine, strong too. Although Gajeel’s never lost a match either, so I guess we’ll just have to see how this pans out.”

I groaned internally as the light dimmed, and this whole big ceremony begun as the two competitors came out. One was big a bulky guy with a mass of black hair pulled up on his head. He looked gnarly, piercings literally everywhere on his body and old wounds covered with bandaids all over his face from fights before. The other guy looked kind of like a joke compared to who he was fighting. He had pink hair for one, and this crooked, goofy grin that nearly made me laugh. Was this serious?

A bell dinged and their shirts dropped, and mouth pieces being shoved between their lips. Seriously ripped, okay, could have expected that. They circled around each other with their fists held up, the chanting of their stage names echoing through the arena.

“Which one are we rooting for?” I whispered to Erza.

“Natsu. Pink haired guy.” She whispered back.

I nodded, and as soon as I did he threw a punch, but Gajeel dodged and uppercutted him in the gut. The crowd went wild and I could only flinch in pain. O u c h. He seemed to shake it off though, and get his head on straight again. I sighed. This would be a long night.


If I had known I would be at the edge of my seat and screaming my lungs out by the end of the night, I probably would’ve slapped myself in the face, but right now at this moment, I so couldn’t help it. This fight was really good, and that’s coming from me. At first I thought the winner would’ve been picked early because damn, Natsu was getting the crap punched out of him. I still cringed at every hit or kick being taken, but it really did get the blood pumping through me.

Everyone was screaming as Natsu landed three solid punches to Gajeel’s jaw, getting him back on his toes. He cocked his arm back for a fourth hit, but Gajeel finally ducked and dodged, elbowing him in the gut hard. I bit my lip just at the sight. Natsu curled over and Gajeel twisted his arm around  his back, and pulled him in for a headlock, flexing his arm around his neck. Natsu struggled and writhed, but Gajeel’s hold looked tight.

I felt my heart sink for him, holy crap don’t die. Erza was screaming her head off for Natsu to break out, but I just fell silent in my seat. Was he even breathing? Was his neck getting snapped? Oh dear God…oh dear…God?

I felt my jaw fall open. This guy…he was smiling? While being forced over and in this dire chokehold, I saw that big, stupid, crooked grin cover his entire face as if this was fun for him. Wasn’t he the least bit worried that he could actually get hurt? What the hell was this monster?

I saw his eyes connect with mine, and I swear his grin widened even more at the sight of me. He showed me his sharp canines, before biting down on his lip and finally kicking Gajeel’s ankle and throwing him over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Gajeel fell still on the mat, and so did I in my chair.

The bell dinged.


Okay, lot’s of blood. Lots of blood. I stood up from my chair as Natsu was being announced the winner, blood spilling from his lips and nose, and I couldn’t even bare to see Gajeel when standing up. I rushed to the grimy bathrooms, the hallways and lobby completely deserted as everyone watched the fight, and snuck past the bodyguards who preferred no one left. I calmed myself down in the mirror, trying to shake out the pictures of men beaten that badly and shivered. Okay, I’ll admit, that was pretty awesome. Not that I’d become a regular fan or anything, but I can see why people like it now. I sighed and got out my keys from my bag, I think I can call this a night.

I wandered out to the hallways, swinging around my keychain on my finger and listened to the tap of my heels against the tile. People were still shouting from the arena, so I assumed everyone was still in there.

I heard a slam of a door and I jumped, my keys flying off my finger and sailing to the floor. A groan got stuck in my throat as they slid under a door, glancing up to the ‘restricted’ sign boldly posted on it.

I sighed, biting my lip. Was all of this really necessary?

I stepped up towards the door, gently pushing it open, and peeked my head inside towards the ground. Just a quick grab and go.

I leaned down and snatched up my keys, standing up and instantly stopping in my place. A pair of dark green eyes caught mine in his, refusing to let me go like a fish caught in a net. He looked startled, then…rather happy to see me.

Holy shit it was the Salamander.

The door slammed behind me and I snapped to it, whipping my head back towards him sitting casually on a bench.

He held an ice pack to his head, blood still smeared around his face and open wounds still unattended. He raised his pack in greeting, “Hey.”

I shuffled uncomfortably, my voice soft, “Hi.”

He arched an eyebrow, “You were with Erza right?”

I nodded, “Uh huh.”

He nodded, looking impressed, “Nice.”

I didn’t really want to look at him, not that he was unattractive or anything, (he was actually kinda cute) but I just couldn’t with his face all mangled like that. He looked liked every bone in his face was broken, it hurt just to look at.

“Uh, congrats on the win I guess,” I said, scratching the back of my head.

I felt nervous. Was it because he was sort of famous? Or maybe because I wasn’t supposed to be back here? Or because he obviously made it clear to check me out while being choked by a 250 pound man? Any one of those I’d like to think were good enough excuses.

“Thanks.” He said, genuinely smiling at me. Wow, he was nice for someone so famous. And in such a mean line of work. “Glad to see you cheering for me.”

I nodded in reply, keeping my head low from his face as I leaned against the wall. I saw him peek his head in my line of view. “Do I make you uncomfortable or something?”

I shook my head, scrunching up my nose in embarrassment, “No it’s not you. Well, it is you.”

He looked at me skeptically and I furiously thought of a better way to word that, “Not really you, just your face.”

Yup, nailed it.

His eyes wandered, nodding slowly, and said nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, finally looking at him, “It’s just…”

I waved my finger around my face, referring to his, and giving him a sympathetic look, “All the blood and bruises and stuff. It’s hard to look at.”

He seemed to understand me then, smiling, “You must be new at this?”

I nodded obviously.

“Looks really painful, aren’t you going to fix it up?” I asked, worriedly.

He shrugged, “Eh, lotta work. Maybe later.”

I gawked at him as a door flew open, two burly men walking in and staring straight at me. “Hey, no fangirls back here. Get back outside.”

One of them grasped my arm and Natsu stood up, before a familiar face strolled through right behind them.

“Easy now Elfman, she’s with me.” Erza said, crossing her arms at me with a knowing look.

The man let my arm go gently, “Sorry Miss. We get a lot of strays back here.”

“It’s fine,” I waved him off, smiling.

The two left us three together, and I stayed quiet as Erza congratulated him for his win and everything. She then studied his face, holding his chin as he pried from her fingers.

“Where’s your med kit?” she asked.

“Locker.” He answered, throwing the melted ice pack on the other bench.

Erza got out the first aid kit and sighed, “Damn, no stitches. I’ll be right back guys, Lucy can you get started?”

I scrunched up my nose, I had to get up close with that face?

Natsu looked towards me expectantly, giving me a playful grin, and I sighed, “I guess.”

Erza left and I sat next to him, facing his beaten face with the kit in my lap. I stared at all the wounds that covered literally every inch of his skin. Where the hell would I start?

He sniffed his nose, obviously in no rush to be properly healed. “So how’d you like the fight?”

I decided to pick up the tissues to clean all the blood from the wounds, giving him a distracted nod, “Great. You were really good. Got worried in the first half, but I’m glad you pulled through.”

I wiped the bridge of his nose, cringing as I felt the bone poking from the side, and he flinched. He froze then, keeping a grunt in his mouth, “Thanks-”

“Jesus, I think your nose is broken,” I cut him off from his casual remark, looking at the disorientation closer.

He shook his head, “It’s fine, just work around it. So you’re pretty close to Erza then? I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.”

Why was he just shrugging this off as if this happened every day??                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

“Well…” I said, frankly way too distracted and concerned to being carrying this normal conversation, “It’s not exactly my scene to be honest.”

I saw him bite his lip, and I didn’t know whether it was out of pain or just something that he casually did.

“What is your scene then?” He asked, his voice rough as I dabbed a deep cut on his forehead.

I sighed loudly, giving him a desperate look as I dropped my hand. “I don’t know. Can you maybe get a real doctor for this? Go to a hospital??”

He shook his head, “No, I’m alright. You’re doing great, keep going.”

I exhaled a loud breath and scooted closer, trying to place bandaids on what didn’t need to be stitched up and cleaning up what I could.

“So what was your name again?” He asked, staring at me.

“Shh.” I shushed, trying to examine his bloody lip.

He waited for a moment, keeping his mouth shut, before he opened it up again, whispering, “You’re really gentle.”

“Sh-” I looked up to him, seeing him smiling down to me with a gleam in his eye. I kept my mouth shut then, forcing down the warmth spreading through me from my stomach.

I pulled on his lip gently, seeing how he bashed it against his teeth on the inside, despite the mouth piece. He then licked his lip, and simultaneously my finger too. I pulled away, giving him a disgusted look and saw him laughing.

“Accident. I swear.”

I punched his left shoulder and wiped my finger on his shirt, “Gross.”

He gave me a challenging look, “You wanna see gross?”

He sat up straight, forcing in a hiss of pain as he slowly lifted up his shirt around his right arm, until it uncovered his shoulder- and oh-

“No no no! No!” I yelled, stumbling to my feet and covering my face. Ew ew ew, his freaking shoulder was dislocated.

“I was getting around to placing it back in, but talking to you seemed like more fun.” He laughed.

“You’re a monster,” I groaned, peeking at him from behind my hand.

“Oh, right, you’re still a newbie.” He said, a sharp gleam in his eye, “You haven’t seen me angry yet.”

I looked at him skeptically, “I can’t picture you angry.”

He gave half a shrug with his good shoulder, “Guess that means you hafta come back and watch me again now.”

He gave me a little mischievous smile, and I mimicked him sarcastically, “Hm, I doubt it.”

He nodded, his eyes wandering as if he was musing it over, and looked back to me directly, “How ‘bout a deal?”

I rose an eyebrow.

“You come to my next show, and stay, and I won’t relocate my shoulder right here in front of you.”

My body froze. He got on his knees on the floor and pressed his shoulder on the edge of the bench, a smirk on his lips as he stared at me expectantly. My jaw dropped, and I started to shake my head, before stopping.

“No?” he asked.

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered, holding up my finger in warning.

“So you’ll come then?” He questioned.

So then what? I could just watch him dislocate it again??

I bit my cheek, scrunching up my lips in defeat, “Fine, fine! Just stand up.”

He grinned widely, nodding at me, before his face falling to slight dismay, “Actually, I still need to relocate this, it’s starting to hurt now.”

My eyes grew wide, “WAIT-”


I screamed. Almost as loud as he yelled actually, but oh my god this absolute fucking monster, how dare he? Didn’t he know how much that physically pained me to watch? Jesus Christ, what a jerk oh my god why isn't he moving?