i may end up scrapping this whole thing though.. not really feeling it

I'm Sorry I Failed You- Josh Dun

Request- Hello! I love your writing:) can u do a josh imagine? Maybe we’re your Tyler’s sister and while there on tour you get jumped walking to your and joshs’ appartmemt and they find out and there all worried? Thanks have a great day/night!

Y/N’s P.O.V. 

 Only a mile and a half from your apartment and your car decided to break down. You typically would have called your boyfriend Josh but he was on tour with your brother Tyler. You got out of work late that day and the walk to your apartment isn’t always the safest late at night. You and Josh lived together in L.A. by a bunch of bars and on Saturday nights the sidewalks were filled with drunk horny men.

You grabbed your purse from your car and threw your phone in. You set out on your walk home enjoying the warm night. You wanted to call Josh but you couldn’t because he and Tyler were in the middle of a show. So to say the least this walk was going to be boring.

You were about a mile from your house now when you felt like you were being followed. You looked over your shoulder to see a 3 tall men stumbling behind you. You felt them walking faster behind you so you decided to quicken your pace and turn down the next street even though it wasn’t in the right direction of your house. You could hear your heart pounding from being scared.

When you finally thought you lost them you slowed down and took out your phone quickly to call someone, anyone really so they can distract you while you find your way back home. You dialed Jenna’s number knowing she was basically your best friend and she would keep your mind off of the slightly terrifying walk. The phone rang twice before the familiar voice came through the other end.

“Hey Y/N what’s up.”

“Oh nothing. My car broke down so I have to walk home and I wanted to talk to someone to distract me for a bit. so, how’s tour going?”

“Oh okay. Tours going great, we all wish you were here. Especially Josh.” she said.

You were about to respond when you heard loud footsteps behind you. You turned around and saw the same 3 men running towards you.

“Y/N are you okay?” Jenna asked, she must have been suspicious of your long break in the conversation.

“Um, no there are like 3 people chas-” and before you could finish you were pushed to the ground and you phone flew from your hands out of reach. You could her Jenna yelling you name but you could respond due to someone kicking your ribs. The biggest man ripped your purse off of your shoulder and put it to the side while another man  sat on your back holding your face to the pavement. You were screaming but nobody heard you.

“Stop, please. Get off me.” you begged and the one kicking you stopped and the one on top of you stood. You turned over and looked at the 3 men looking down at you.

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” the biggest man said and he punch you straight on the face. You could have sworn your nose broke.

The smallest man who was kicking you earlier knelt down next to you and started petting your hair. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke.

“What should we do to this one guys?” he asks as he moved close to your neck. Your fear paralyze you and could scream. He start pulling up your shirt and tears rolled down your cheeks as they pulled you up and put you against the wall.

“Stop fucking crying or we’ll beat the fuck out of you.” the medium sized man said. You knew you weren’t getting out of this. You couldn’t control your tears and you were quickly pushed back to the ground. You felt the skin on your palms and knees scrape against the hard ground and your arms couldn’t hold you from the pain. You fell and hit you head and the last thing you remember is seeing the 3 men running off.

You woke up to the sound of your phone busy on the pavement.  You phone was lighting up with Jenna’s face calling you. You reached as far as you could reach and pulled it to you.

It hurt so bad, even to simply swipe your finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Y/N. I’ve been calling you for the past 5 minutes are you okay? Where are you?” she asked frantically.

You could really talk due to your ribs being in so much pain. “Jenna I’m fine, just don’t panic. I’m walking home now.” you voice cracked a few times and she knew you weren’t okay.

“Y/N what happened? I know you’re not okay. I heard those guys, I stayed on the phone the whole time. Talk to me.” you wanted to talk but you didn’t want to Josh or Tyler to found out. They were both really overprotective of you.

“Y/N say something or I’m going to tell Tyler. I don’t care if they’re in the middle of a show or not. I’ll go and right on stage and interrupt the whole thing to tell them.” she threatened.

“Okay, fine. Please don’t say anything to them.” you started to stand  and you had to use the wall for support. “These 3 drunk guys just beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh my god. Y/N how hurt are you?”

“Well my feels like it’s broken and it’s bleeding. My ribs hurt and so does my head. Look I’m only 2 blocks from my apartment. I’ll walk there and tell you more. I just need to sit down, I feel really dizzy.” you said stumbling, trying to walk but you were really dizzy and nauseous.

“Y/N tell me where you are, I’m calling you and ambulance you don’t sound okay.”

“Only if you don’t tell Tyler and Josh, I’ll be fine. I just need to get some help and I’ll tell them when I’m ready, Please.” you begged.

“I won’t. Now tell me where you are.”

“On the corner of Daniel ave and 5th ave.” you said sitting down against the wall. Your legs were beginning to weaken and you could feel you eyes starting to close.

“Y/N stay with me. I have an ambulance on it’s way there now.”

“Okay” you mumbled and you blacked out again.

Jenna’s P.O.V.

I had heard the whole thing happen and I know she didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I was married to her brother and he needed to know. Not to mention her boyfriend Josh needs to know. I promised I wouldn’t tell them in order to get her location out of her. I called her the ambulance because I could hear her drifting off in the conversation.

I gave the hospital my number so they would call me when she got there.

When they called me to tell me they found her passed out on the sidewalk I knew I had to tell Josh and Tyler. They needed to know even if that meant they would end the concert early.

I tried getting Tyler’s attention from the side and he stopped sing, looking at me with concern because I never bugged him during a show. Josh stopped playing and came over to where Tyler was.

“Dude are you okay?” he asked Tyler as I approached them.

“Yeah Jenna looked like she really needed to tell me something and I felt like something was wrong. What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?” he turned his attention to me and everyone in the arena was completely silent.

“No. um Y/N she’s hurt. Like really badly. She’s in the hospital. I think you need to end this and we can talk.” with that Tyler pulled the microphone to his lips and Josh ran off with me asking me all sorts of questions about Y/N.

“Okay, I’m very sorry this has to be this way, but we have to end the show early.” Tyler said and the crowd was filled with disappointment. “My sister, Josh’s girlfriend is hurt and we really need to get to her. Goodnight and stay alive all. Thank you for those who are understanding.” he ran off stage and found Josh and I.

“What happened, is she okay? Where is she?” Tyler asked all the same questions Josh had asked.

“We’ll explain later, i just booked us an immediate flight to L.A. I think we should get to her.” Josh said with tears threatening to come from his eyes.

“She’ll be okay Josh, she just needs us there.” Tyler said not knowing anything.

At the airport Jenna told her side of the story to Tyler and Josh.

Before getting on the plane Tyler was really worried about you and he texted your family to tell them what happened. Josh couldn’t keep still. When ever he was nervous he would bounce his leg and that’s what he did the whole plane ride and car ride to the hospital.

Josh’s P.O.V.

As soon as we got to the hospital I basically ran to the front desk.

“Hi sir, how may I help you?”

“My girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, she was brought here about 5 hours ago. I need to see her. Is she okay?”

“Her file says she’s not awake right now, I’m going to get her doctor and you can go back to see her with him.” the woman said and then she left. I stood there and Tyler and Jenna came up to me.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asked and the doctor approached.

“Hi, which one of you is the boyfriend?” he asked.

“I am. Can I go see her?” I said quickly.

“Yes, but please know that it looks worse then it is.” he said leading us back to her room.

When I entered the room I saw Y/N just laying there asleep. Her hands had scraps all of them. Her arms had all sorts of bruises along with her face. She had blood stained on her upper lip and her head was wrapped in white bandages.

I went over and sat next to her holding her hand.

“So is she okay?” Tyler asked the doctor.

“She lost quite a bit of blood from hitting her head. She has 3 fractured ribs and she has a lot of bruising and scrapes. She will be okay, but we want to monitor her to make sure she doesn’t pass out again. She needs rest and pain medicine and she’ll be all good to go in a few weeks when those ribs heal.” he said.

The doctor left after a few more questions and I saw that Y/N was starting to wake up.

“J-Josh?” she questioned. Her voice was quiet and raspy.

“I”m right here baby.” I said kissing her on the hand.

“How you feeling kid?” Tyler asked walking over and rubbing a non-bruised part of your arm.

“Um, it hurts but I’m fine. Why are you here though? Did I mess up your show?”

“No Y/N you didn’t mess up anything. We’re here because we love you. You’re my sister and I would do anything for you.” Tyler said.

“Babe you didn’t mess anything up. You’re more important than a show. Everyone will understand.” Josh said.

“Hey guys, I just got off the phone from the police. They found one of the guys that hurt Y/N and arrested him. Then he turned in the other guys. They’re all in custody.” Jenna said entering the room.  

“Good, I was about to beat every drunk guy in L.A. for hurting my sister.” Tyler said and it made you laugh. When laughing it felt like your whole body was broken. you flinched slightly at the pain and it drew everyone’s attention to you.

“You okay Y/N?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, I’m just in a lot of pain and tired.”

“I think it’s time we leave so you can sleep. I don’t think I’m gonna convince josh to leave your side though. We have a hotel across the street. Call me if you need anything.” Jenna said and Tyler and her said their goodbyes.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Once they left Josh sat a little closer to you pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sorry I failed you Y/N. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Josh said and you could hear the tears in his eyes.

“Josh look at me.” you said “you didn’t fail me. You’re always there for me. Nobody could have stop this. I’m okay.” he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I love you so much. I want you to rest and get better, okay?” he said getting up from where he was kneeling beside you.

“Wait don’t leave. I haven’t seen you in 3 weeks and I want to keep you close.”

“Well I don’t want you to have to move. I’ll be right over here on the couch.” he said and as he went to pull his hand away from you you tugged on his hand making him look at you.

You moved (painfully, but didn’t let it show)  in the bed so there was enough room for Josh to lay with you.

He smiled at you and laid next to you and held your hand kissing your head.

“I love you Y/N, so much.” Josh said as you start drifting off to sleep.

“I love you too. Thanks for be so amazing.” you said drowsily and then sleep took over the both of you.

anonymous asked:

Pbarmercy prompt where pharah secretly rescues a lil puppy during a mission and later shows it to mercy in her quaters

Starts with Angst, ends with fluff ;)

This is such a cute prompt … I’m sorry I rushed it a bit, there was honestly so much more I could have written ^^;

It is a hell hole. It is always a hell hole, the places they go.

Pharah ducks behind a crumbling building, the scraps of decommissioned omnics spill oil in the streets which coats the inside of her nostrils. Oil has become synonymous with blood in her mind, in the synapses which transfer information through it. She gags because they were alive and now they are not, and it always hurts; it always burns deep in her stomach like acid.

“Pharah, position?” Someone says over comms - she thinks it is Winston.

“Outer edges,” she replies. All threats have been neutralized. They are not far from base, it is truly horrific how close they sometimes get. Fareeha worries about her comrades, how she will protect them all if a time may come that they are all under fire. It is … terrifying.

“Acknowledged,” says someone else, “can you meet us back at base?”

“Copy.” Replies Pharah, “I will check in at the gate.”

“Good, over and out.” This time is is Angela, her voice is exhausted and beautiful. Fareeha deflates behind her barricade, looks down at the sparking omnic beside her.

There is a cemetery not too far off, she remembers it; she hoists the body over her shoulder and walks quietly in the Raptora (in the heavy silence of a battlefield) there; digs a hole, sets the body in it.

Fareeha Amari knows the value of the rite into the afterlife; everyone deserves a proper burial. There is a rock off to the side; medium sized and flat-ish. She goes to it, bends to pick it up.

There is a sound like whimpering, Pharah is surprised that there is a puppy crouched behind it, tail between its legs. It must have been caught up in the battle.

Cemeteries are, ironically, relatively safe places to be during war. Pharah knows. Pharah remembers a mission during her first deployment; how she and her captain had taken cover in a cemetery for two days after the squad had been dismantled.

In a way, she feels as though this puppy is an echo of her, then. Twenty-two and woefully unprepared. Emotionally scarred, even now.

She reaches her hand out tentatively, the fleshy and warm one, the one that connects with the world around it, and is pleasantly surprised when the puppy does not shrink away from her. It accepts her with a nuzzle and a lick and Fareeha knows already that she will not turn away.

She finishes up with the makeshift headstone, and heads for home.

The puppy is probably a retriever, Fareeha guesses, watching it scramble around her room - if the amount of fluff and the yellow coloring is any indicator. She has scraps for it in a bowl on the ground along with some water and a mat made of the formal attire she is relatively certain she will never have the occasion for; despite this, it seems to be more interested in a pair of socks and the relative firmness of her barrack bed.

Fareeha sighs heavily as she sits next to it; she knows this was unwise. There are a lot of things she is not equipped to handle - regular walks and a steady schedule for avoiding incidents.

Fareeha has been assigned to the bulk of all missions lately…

Tomorrow, she resolved, she will deal with it tomorrow.

The puppy curls up beside her as she lays down, obviously exhausted.

She does not blame it; she feels the same.

For two weeks, things go well enough. Fareeha is more reclusive than she is generally known to be, but people do not mention it.

For two weeks it is fine, and then she is assigned to a mission in America and things become entirely more complicated.

She’s named the puppy Ernill, which was the name etched on the omnic that night. She has learned that it is a male, that he definitely enjoys socks and that he can absolutely not be left alone for any extensive amount of time lest he destroy everything.

At midnight the night before her deployment, Fareeha knocks lightly on Hana’s door, knowing the girl is up and streaming. After a few minutes, probably the time it took to finish her current match, Hana opens the door, looks at her strangely, a silent question.

“Can I ask a favor of you?” Fareeha asks, quietly, seriously.

“Depends…” Hana says, deceptively intelligent and always a little more than wary. Fareeha pulls out a leash.

“… is this something kinky?” Hana asks. Fareeha goes red with indignation.

“What? No! Of course not,” Fareeha says. “I … adopted a dog … on our last mission.”

This catches Hana’s attention, she leans forward, interested.

“It would be unwise to tell Winston of it. But I cannot leave him alone for so long after I leave tomorrow.”

“If you’re asking me to watch a dog,” says Hana, “I’m already sold.” And she grins and Fareeha feels relief she has not felt in ages.

Fareeha introduces Hana to Ernill, the two get along well. Or, perhaps Hana just really likes dogs. Regardless, when Fareeha leaves the next day, she is please at the thought of the little dog’s safety.

Fareeha returns a week later, bruised and exhausted. Briefly, she forgets that a dog even exists. She nearly forgets she exists. She just wants to sleep.

Despite the success of the mission as a whole, she feels like she has failed in her own way - a success means no injury, and she is definitely feeling the hole in her leg.

When she opens the door to her room, she expects empty, dark, silence.

What she gets is Angela, dressed in a tank top and flannel pajama shorts, playing with Ernill, a rope toy in her hand and in his teeth; they are both sitting on her bed. Everything Fareeha thinks she feels seems to vanish, all but the warmth up her neck and in her ears.

She sets her bag down at about the same time they both turn to look at her.

Angela is smiling freely into the empty room and it is like sunlight; Fareeha is not sure she has seen anything more calming, more needed in a particular moment in her entire life.

“Welcome back,” she says, quietly, wonderfully. Ernill nudges the hand the rope toy is in, demanding attention.

Fareeha does not recall having purchased a rope toy.

“Oh - thank you,” says Fareeha, shuts the door behind her to avoid prying eyes.

“How are you?” Angela asks, and eyes the way Fareeha is favoring her left leg skeptically. Fareeha tries to hide the pain of it.

“Fine,“ and then seeing Angela’s disbelief, adds unconvincingly: "Nothing serious,” a pause, “I see you have met Ernill.”

At this, Angela’s face breaks out in another winning grin, she scratches behind his ears affectionately and then stands. Ernill jumps off the bed as she does so.

“Hana asked me to watch him, she left for a mission yesterday.”

Fareeha is beyond relieved that Hana had passed off the task - even if it only ended up being for a day.

Fareeha watches the way Angela walks toward her. Watches the way Angela places a hand on her right thigh, blushed deeply when she makes contact.

“What are you-” she begins, but then Angela pushes lightly and pain shoots up her leg and oddly, through her spine. Fareeha winces, stumbles. Angela frowns contemplatively.

Ernill barks and they both glance briefly to the door to make sure no one has heard.

“Nothing serious?” Angela repeats. Fareeha has the sense to chuckle lightly and try to play it off.

“Relatively,” she responds. Angela sighs and shakes her head, turns back to Ernill.

“How long have you had him?” She asks, her tone lighter now, more joking.

“A few weeks,” Fareeha responds, “since the mission in London.”

“Who knew; Fareeha Amari is not all stoicism behind the soldier facade,” Angela smiles. Fareeha wonders if this is how they all see her - as some statue of marble, unfazed. She wonders if she is not just repeating all of the same mistakes she has made in Helix.

“He was having a ruff day, I could not just leave him,” Fareeha says. Angela blinks once, twice, and then something seems to crack in her and she laughs and Fareeha blushes for no other reason than that Angela has a beautiful laugh.

Fareeha would tell a thousand awful jokes just to hear it again. When Angela recovers she is still smiling.

“I should … let you get some rest,” she finally says. “But do you mind if I visit? I’ve grown rather attached.”

“Come anytime you like,” Fareeha tells her sincerely. Angela smiles, and leaves for the door, but stops just before opening it. Turns to Fareeha, leaning just a little on it, Fareeha does not know why she feels the rise of a blush but it persists just the same.

“And Fareeha,” Angela says, “see me tomorrow about your thigh, I want to get a proper look at it.” There is something about the way she says this that sends a jolt of electricity through Fareeha’s stomach.

When the door closes with a light click Fareeha glances down at Ernill. His tail is wagging, tongue out, he barks once, happily and Fareeha feels as though something has changed which she cannot name; but which Ernill probably could - he looks … almost happy with what has just transpired.

Sigils, Symbols, and Sketched Witchery: The Basics

Here is another post in my nascent series for beginners, and this one once again focuses on ways of practicing without fancy tools or ingredients. In this case, we’ll be talking about doing magick with simply just paper and a pen/pencil, and I’ll also be discussing symbols in general and why they are important in witchcraft.

Symbols are pretty important to many witches. While not all see it this way, some (including me) believe that all tools are truly just symbols, and their symbolic value allows them to act as power conduits within spells and workings. If that’s true, then there’s really no reason to consider an image of the alchemical symbol for Water (or any image related to water, for that matter) objectively less useful than an actual physical chalice. If you’re armed with strong enough intent, both should work equally well if you need to bring the force of Water into your magick.

There are existing symbols that have been associated with various magical principles for many, many years. In the planetary magick, there are a variety of symbols representing each planet in different contexts and traditions. The common ones called glyphs that you see in most books have always been particularly useful for me, and actually have complex symbolism built into them (they aren’t arbitrary). In the image below, I’ve discussed the three basic symbols from which these glyphs are formed, and why each one looks as it does.

There are symbols for Earth, Air, Fire and Water, of course, but also a whole host of others that have stood for different principles throughout history. I mention some of them here, but that’s barely scratching the surface, given how many exist in Western magical traditions, let alone the rest of the magical world.

Unless you’ve been studying for a while, you might not recognize or have any kind of reaction to these symbols. To someone not well-versed in magick, it can be hard to see a connection between, say, a downward-facing triangle and the element of Water. That’s the traditional symbol used for Water, but it might take a little bit of training yourself to make the connection between the two strong in your mind. I personally had the worst time learning about the planetary glyphs, but with practice, you can get yourself to the point where, when you see the symbol, your mind automatically conjures up images, thoughts, and feelings of what it stands for.

This is actually crucial, in my opinion, though some will no doubt disagree. Magick, to me, has never seemed to operate like a vending machine or other lifeless contraption. It’s not a matter of putting in the right symbols and out pops a result - rather, the symbols exist to focus the intent and will of the witch or magician. This is why I think it’s important to connect with any symbol your using so that it inspires an emotional and intellectual reaction from you, because I personally believe that said reaction is the power behind magick. You’ll hear witches talk about “charging sigils” fairly often, and, for me personally, charging a sigil (more about them later) or symbol is all about connecting them with the concept they represent in your own mind, on both an emotional and intellectual level. Others have a different idea of what charging means, though, so reading up on it and trying different methods can be helpful.

You can use these preexisting symbols in spellwork and other exercises quite effectively once you’ve made the connection, which is usually not too difficult. Just reading about the concepts they represent and why the symbol looks the way it does tends to be quite helpful. Check out this article I’ve written about the planetary glyph symbols, for example, and some theories about why they look the way they do. The important thing is not to correctly interpret the symbol based on the plan of whoever created it, though - it is much more effective to find a personal way of relating to it, if at all possible. Ask yourself if the symbol “makes sense” to you. Some will, and some won’t, and some will make sense with a little research. I know that just having a solid theory as to why the symbol looks the way it does will often be more than enough to begin using it in magick.

Now, using existing symbols is quite well and good, but it is also a good idea to experiment with making your own! These are often called sigils, and there are any number of ways of designing them. Arranging existing letters in a certain manner to form a symbol tends to be the most common method, and was developed by Mr. A. O. Spare, and it was him who popularized the term sigil - you can read more about him here. Other methods for sigil creation exist as well, and often the process is highly intuitive. In the image below, I talk about how I use certain underlying concepts in symbol form as a basis for my sigils, and that’s a method which works for some people, too.

You’ll see a lot of discussion of “charging” and “casting” sigils. These terms are used to mean different things by different people, but generally I view connecting the symbol with the concept it represents to be the “charging” part and using the symbol to invoke the concept for its purpose to be the “casting” aspect. A topic of debate between some of my offline friends has been whether any kind of formalize charging or even casting process is really required for everyone. It’s undeniably true that some people will get great results just from creating a sigil, and perhaps in those instances they both charge, cast, and create it simultaneously. My friends who do this have told me things to this effect, but I myself do tend to charge and cast separately.

Really, though, there is no wrong way to create or use a sigil, provided it connects properly in your mind (and emotions) with the concept it is meant to represent or invoke. Some witches will just sit down with paper and start drawing until they get something that reflects the concept in their imagination. The sigil may or may not really resonate or evoke that particular concept for anyone else but the witch who makes it - but it may nevertheless be effective for that one witch. In this way, sigils are extremely personal at times.

Any symbol can be cast via visualization, but another simple method would be sketching them on a piece of paper, which could then function as a talisman or just as a focal point for your concentration. This isn’t exactly completely tool-free, but paper is easy to find, as are pens and pencils. One word of advice, though - don’t feel compelled to buy special pens or nice notebooks unless that’s your thing - these techniques doesn’t require anything too special. You just need space to write on, and something to write with. Colored ink is a bonus, but not required, especially if you can just visualize the color as you’re drawing with a normal pen or pencil.

There are actually a lot of options for how to use sketching sigils and symbols in your witchcraft practice. A common way is to just develop the sigil or symbol, sketch it, and use it as something to focus on whenever you want to bring the concept it represents into your life. If I wanted to evoke the concept of Mercury in my life, I might draw the symbol of Mercury on a scrap of paper and spend a few minutes visualizing power flowing from it and entering me. That’s just one example, though. Sometimes, if you have a strong enough association for a sigil or symbol, just sketching it alone is enough to cast it in a low-key way.

Paper talismans are a thing, as well. Many people think of talismans as though they have to be made of something sturdy and expensive, but the idea isn’t diluted if they’re made out of paper, and it can work just as well. You might design and charge a complex sigil to represent a specific goal of yours, sketch it on a clean piece of paper and fold or ball it up to carry discreetly with you, touching it to activate it. This is great for those who must keep their practice secret, and is a good way of integrating witchcraft with your daily life.

If you’re into drawing more than just simple symbols, you can also use that as a way of creating magick. The truth is, the definitions of “sigil” is very loose, and expanding every day as people develop new forms of symbolism that act in a similar manner. You may have heard of emoji spells, but I’ll address them in a later post. Just sticking to paper and pen, there is no requirement that your sigil “look” a a certain way or like other sigils. It need not simply be lines connecting in various ways - an actual sketch of something, or an abstract drawing can act as a sigil as well.

Personally, though, I would define any drawing or artwork with more than one symbol/object in it as sigil - but it could still be a spell or working! One my favorite spells I did as a teenager involved drawing, and was a sort of emotional healing spell for a friend. The person had went through a nasty breakup. While she had no remaining feelings for her ex, she worried she wouldn’t feel complete again. 

She also liked to draw goofy doodles on things. She drew a small, rough pencil sketch of a broken heart to encapsulate her feelings at the time, and gave it to me. With her watching, I took a sharpie and drew over the broken heart, covering the image entirely with a larger one of a whole, unbroken heart, much as one might cover a tattoo with a larger one. 

At the end, the original drawing was no longer visible, and she took the paper home to keep in her scrapbook, and told me she was quite pleased with the results. You can easily imagine similar spells involving other symbols and images, and you’re really only limited by your own imagination, because the drawings needn’t be perfect.

These are just some simple ways of practicing witchcraft with nothing more that sigils, symbols, paper, and a writing utensil of some sort, but I’m sure you can think of more. Thanks for reading, and expect more soon. I’m working on further articles for this series, so expect ‘em. They’ll all be tagged with “#beginner witch,” to help people find them. 

What If? - Part Two

Summary: Sam Winchester is the King of Hell. You are a Hunter. Once upon a time he had been your world, right up until he left for Stanford. He broke a promise and so you left to live your own life, away from the Winchesters who had taken you in and never looking back… until you are captured by Demons and brought before the Boyking.
: SamxReader
: 1565
: Descriptions of wounds, references to torture, angst
AN: This is part 2 of my entry for @winchesterprincessbride‘s 800 Follower Celebration! My prompt was the line ‘Don’t get too close, it’s dark inside. It’s where my demons hide” from Demons by Imagine Dragons. I’ve not explicitly used the line. This part is from the Reader’s POV!
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!

Part One


You should be dead.

Of all the things you’d heard about the King of Hell, sentimental and merciful had never factored in. Ruthless, yes; it was widely known that he was brutal in his judgement of condemned souls, and he ruled Hell with an iron fist. Insubordination meant death, which meant that the few Demons topside tended to carry out their orders with devastating precision.

Everyone had heard the rumours that he was a Hunter who’d gone dark, but people tended to treat that tale as simple folklore, a fun story to tell at gatherings.

Never in your wildest dream would you have guessed it was Sam. Your Sam. Sweet, gentle and intelligent Sam. The boy you’d grown up with. The boy you’d spent your days hand in hand with, and your nights pinned beneath. The boy who’d been your everything…until he left.

You’d thought your brain had been playing tricks on you when you’d been strung up. You’d thought the torture was messing with you, and that you’d heard Sam’s voice because he’d always been a source of comfort in dark times.

Now you were wishing it had just been your imagination, that way, you wouldn’t be faced with the reality of it…

It was too much.

He was meant to be a lawyer by now… that’s what he’d wanted. That was the whole reason he’d left.

Not here.

His features blurred as he crouched in front of you, the combination of rising panic and unrelenting pain desperately trying to drag you down into unconsciousness. You fought tooth and nail to stay present in the dark throne room, but you just couldn’t.

You saw his mouth moving, but there was a deafening roar in your ears, drowning out all other sounds.

The world lurched and spun, and you felt the small scrap of strength you had left leave your body as your vision darkened.

The last thing you were aware of was the distinct sense of falling…

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The Story of Vampire Michaela, Vol 1 - Intermission (closing part)

Disclaimer: This light novel is written by Kagami Takaya and illustrated by Yamamoto Yamato. I do not profit from this.

Please note that while this is being translated from the original Japanese text, the translator is not a professional so there may be mistakes. Any illustrations included are self-provided.

Viewer discretion is advised.
Masterlist » here

« Owari no Seraph: The Story of Vampire Michaela »
Volume 1, Intermission - The Story That Follows Michaela (closing part)

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Chew Toy

The phone rang; it was the low inoffensive bleating of an office line, meant to attract attention instead of demanding it. A hoofed hand lazily reached over and turned on the speakerphone. “Yes, Ms. Muston?”

The squeaky, timid voice of Jackie Muston, the front desk secretary, sounded over the speaker. “Your two ‘o’clock with the Paws’n’Claws Organization is here, Mayor Swinton. Also, your three ‘o’clock canceled.”

“Understood. Thank you,” Swinton drawled, knocking back the last finger in her Lalique lowball tumbler. “Send them up, please.”

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(A/N): I just want my own Bucky to cuddle dammit!

Request:   Heya 💝 I wanted to ask for an imagine with bucky where he frees you from being kidnapped by hydra just before your anniversary with buck. When he finds you he carries you outside cause you’re too weak from all the wounds and he brings you home caring for you. Then you feel sad cause you have to stay in bed on your special day but he reassures you that it’s all fine as long as you’re safe, so you spend the day cuddling? 😊

Warnings: injury, brief mentions of torture

Originally posted by arianagrandes

   Bucky groaned softly as he rolled over on the less than comfortable floor of the forest. For the last few days Steve, Bucky, and (Y/N) had been on this mission to recover some files Hydra had stolen from Shield. The only problem was the were incognito and thus this required them to hide out in the forest surrounding the base, which included sleeping, eating, and ‘training’.

    It had been a difficult few days, Bucky would be the first to admit it. The close quarters often led to the four of them constantly arguing and over the most trivial things. It probably didn’t help that none of them had had any proper sleep in those few days, after all sleeping on the bumpy ground wasn’t exactly the best place to sleep. But Bucky had slept in far more difficult places unfortunately (Y/N) had not which usually led to them getting up and walking around at all times of the night so it was no surprise when Bucky woke up and (Y/N) wasn’t there. 

   Bucky pushes up from the floor groggily, stopping once he was sitting on the dirt ground. He rubs at the sleep that still lingers over his eyes, stifling a yawn as he does so. He looks about the ‘camp’, surveying the other two sleeping bodies across from him. Steve and Sam’s bodies are nearly motionless other than the heavy rise and fall of their chest. If Bucky didn’t know any better he could say the scene was almost…peaceful in a way. 

   Bucky smiles softly as he rises to his feet, dusting his legs free of any dirt or underbrush. It was his turn to find food for the day and if he wanted to get food for breakfast and dinner he needed to start now. Bucky jotted down a quick note for Sam and Steve (and (Y/N) when they returned) before grabbing his bow and arrow and setting out to work. 

   As Bucky traveled along the forest something felt…wrong. The air around him felt heavy and tense and his heart felt as though it may begin to race in his chest. It wasn’t just that but there was no sign, whatsoever, of any animal anywhere. Usually he could catch a few rabbits or something but not even those were running around as usual. This had made Bucky more than wary to go deeper into the forest but something was pushing him to and in the end that something won and Bucky ended up traveling a bit deeper. 

   As Bucky travelled a bit deeper he began to find things, I few chunks of earth had been turned up, there was obvious signs of a struggle, and as Bucky got even deeper he found a small scrap of clothing. As his he picked it up and ran his fingers over it he realized exactly what it was. It was part of (Y/N)’s uniform. An ice cold chill runs through Bucky’s body and he can’t suppress the shiver that runs up his spine. Had (Y/N) gotten in trouble? Had they been chased? Did someone find them? Did- did Hydra find them? Bucky shakes his head, as though the motion could clear the awful thought from his mind but it sticks with him, pressuring him to go just a teeny bit deeper.

   Bucky goes a bit deeper and everything looks the same as the last place, like a huge struggle had gone down but what really grabbed Bucky’s attention was the puddle of blood on the ground. It was a deep crimson and there was a whole lot of it, it coated the ground, the trees surrounding, and even created a path deeper into the woods. 

   Bucky’s heart sinks and his mouth runs dry at the thought of that blood being (Y/N)’s. Even though he didn’t want it to be true, his heart knew what had happened. This was (Y/N)’s blood, something had happened to (Y/N). 

   Bucky didn’t think he’d ever run that fast in his life. His feet carried him back to camp at lightning speed, not caring if he woke up the entire Hydra base. He had one thing and one thing on his mind; (Y/N). 

   Bucky stopped at camp, crouching down beside Steve and Sam to shake them awake, probably a bit harder than he needed to. Both men turn to look at him all the while groaning in displeasure. 

   “Bucky, what the hell do you-” Sam begins only to have Bucky cut him off. 

   “(Y/N)’s gone, I-I don’t know where they went but there’s blood in the forest a-and-” Steve sits up, placing a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he does so. 

   “It’s okay Buck,” Steve states calmly, hoping his calmness would eventually calm down the nearly frantic Bucky. “I’m sure they’re fine,” 

   “What if they’re not? What if they got lost or- or what if-” Bucky inhales shakily, his thoughts and nerves starting to get the better of him. 

   “Bucky.” Steve gives his shoulder a squeeze, slightly grounding him. “We’ll find them don’t worry. Now, can you tell me exactly where you found this blood?” Bucky nods and before he can even comprehend what has happened he’s directing both Steve and Sam into the forest. 

    Both men surveyed the surrounding, checking for anything else that could give any hint as to what happened to their fellow teammate while Bucky stood on the sidelines, nearly numb in shock and fear. That was until Steve perked up, holding something in his hand. 

   “Hey you guys,” Steve calls out and both men rush to his side. “Isn’t this…isn’t this Hydra protocol knife, like what all the agents use?” Bucky grabs the knife and surveys it, seeing if it looked familiar at all and it did. Bucky had used that knife many times before, what all the agents had used before. Bucky’s heart sinks even lower and he’s sure he may throw up as he comes to a realization. Hydra had gotten (Y/N), his (Y/N) and only god knew what they were doing to them. 

   “Yeah,” Bucky responds dryly, numbly. “Yeah it is,” 

   It hadn’t taken long for the men to suit up, ready to go get (Y/N) back. They had murder in their eyes and their jaws clenched tightly, anger brewing within them. Hydra would soon learn not to ever, ever mess with one of their own. 

   Within a few moments the men were ready to go, dressed to kill (quite literally too). The plan had been to stay under wraps for a bit, just track Hydra and map their movements but that plan flew out the window when they took (Y/N), so now the 3 were marching through the forest, not even caring if they got caught. 

   They had reached the edge of the forest when they were first ambushed and their sheer anger got them through to group of men quickly and they set off again, heading directly to the base. In no time they had blown through all the men that had tried to ambush them and before they knew it they were on the inside of the poor, dimly lit base. 

   “Wanna branch off, you try to find (Y/N) and we’ll take down everyone else?” Bucky nodded in response to Steve’s question before darting down a hall, listening to the sounds of his feet hit the concrete below him. He rounded corner after corner, not finding a single trace of any life. Even if he knew all of these bases like the back of his hand, he could not, for the life of him find (Y/N). A deep, unsettling kind of panic rises within him as he thinks about never finding (Y/N). What if Hydra had killed them? Or shipped them off to some other base? What if- Bucky stopped short as a sudden thought plagued him like no other. What if they were about to make (Y/N) the new winter soldier, what if they already had? Bucky swallowed the bundle of nerves rising in his throat and pushed on, bound and determined to get to (Y/N), whether they were dead or alive. 

   Bucky had just rounded what felt to be his thousandth corner when he heard it. It was distant and almost undetectable but he knew that voice anywhere, and he knew when it was in pain or whether it was happy, he knew whether it was sad or angry, he knew because he woke up and fell asleep to that voice every day and he’d have been a fool not to know who it belonged to. It may have been a quiet cry for help but he could distinguish those words from a mile away. 

  Immediately Bucky charges for the voice, not even caring if he alerts the rest of the base of his presence. He had one mission as of right now and that was to get (Y/N) back, no matter the cost. 

   His feet carry him to a halting stop before some heavy metal door. It looked dense enough to stop the hulk and was heavy enough that even Bucky had struggled to open it but as he got it going it nearly slid open effortlessly. Bucky slipped in and was immediately engulfed in a petrifying cold, one that shook him to his core. It was the cold of the Cyrofreeze, of that damn machine he’d feared for 70 years. Bucky shivered at the thought but pushed through, not stopping until he nearly reached the back of the room. The only thing that had stopped him was a quiet whimper and a soft plea of, ‘don’t hurt me, please’. Bucky stops in his tracks, not even having noticed the body due to the naturally dark room. 

   “(Y-Y/N), is that you?” Bucky asks softly, already searching for the voice that had called to him. 

   “B-Bucky?” Bucky whipped to the side, nearly colliding with the body crouched on the floor. Crouched was the wrong word, tied down, strapped, was the correct one. (Y/N) had been shackled to the wall behind them, their ankles were chained to the floor, and their hands lay beside either side of their head. 

   “Oh my god (Y/N),” Bucky sighs as he drops to the floor, wrapping his arms around the still shackled (Y/N). His arms shake as he holds (Y/N) softly, inhaling their scent deeply as he does so. Their head buts against his, nuzzling up against his forehead and Bucky nearly sobs in relief. His (Y/N) was alive, alive and back in his arms. 

   “Hey Buck,” (Y/N) whispers and their voice is so hoarse, so hoarse from screaming and crying that Bucky may actually cry himself. “As much as I’d love to have this little reunion I’m still shackled to the wall and bleeding, can we finish this once we get home?” Bucky nods as he pulls away, rubbing at his watering eyes.

   “Yeah, of course, just lemme get you out of here,” Bucky, with the utmost ease, tears the shackles from (Y/N)’s body, catching them when they nearly collapsed to the ground. Bucky could feel the start of some blood leaking through his suit, his chest no doubt was going to be a bloody mess by the time he got (Y/N) to safety. 

   “God (Y/N),” Bucky sighs as he runs a hand over their hair reverently. “What did they do to you?” (Y/N) whimpers and clings to Bucky a bit tighter, causing his heart to clench and his throat to tighten. 

   “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Bucky’s heart sinks for the 3 time that day because he knew what (Y/N) was going through, he knew what ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ meant. Bucky nods in complete and utter understanding and he realizes his grip on (Y/N) tightens just a bit. 

   “Whatever they did,” Bucky growls out lowly and dangerously, “They’re never gonna do it again,” 

   Bucky had carried (Y/N) out proudly, keeping them as close to his chest as he could. They were shivering and whimpering against him and if he even loosened his grip for a second they were nearly crying as they clung to him a bit more. So Bucky kept his grip tight as he, Steve, and Sam all traveled back to their camp, gathering up their supplies before making their trek back to the jet they had hidden some many miles away. 

   “You gettin’ tired yet?” Steve asks playfully as Bucky once agains readjusts how (Y/N) was clinging to him. Bucky only flashed Steve a slight smile before holding (Y/N) a bit closer. 

   “I’m good, got all the energy in the world,” Steve merely smiled back before redirecting his attention back to the path in front of them. For the rest of the trek no one spoke to each other, the rawness of their mission still haunting them. The only words spoken were from Bucky, who would occasionally whisper comforting words to the still shaking (Y/N). Other than that nothing was said, not until the group reached the Quinjet. 

   The ramp dropped and the group walked in tiredly, even slowly. Steve immediately crossed over to the pilot’s seat, Sam taking the co-pilot seat beside him. 

   “We’ve got to patch you up, okay?” Bucky asks (Y/N) gingerly as he continues to gently run his hand over their blood matted hair. “Maybe a few stitches and a cast or two, and a shower when we’re done with that.” (Y/N) nods meekly against him, barely moving their head. Bucky sighs softly, it was a pained little noise but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not after what had just happened to (Y/N), his (Y/N).

   Buky carries (Y/N) to the bathroom the jet had, being careful not to aggravate any of their injuries. He hadn’t gotten a good look at any of them, considering they had been in the dark and then pressed against his chest for the entire trek here so who knew how bad the damage could be? Bucky shuts the door behind them, gently placing (Y/N) on the bathroom sink. They whimper softly as he pulls away and their expression is akin to that of a kicked puppy and all it makes Bucky want to do is wrap them up and kiss them until they felt better. 

   “I’m just grabbing supplies, it’s okay,” Bucky gives them a soft smile before taking a step towards the cabinet that the bathroom also had. He fished around a bit until he found what he was looking for; some surgical thread, a needle, a few bandages, some rubbing alcohol, and a makeshift cast of sorts. Turning back to (Y/N) he prepped a cotton ball by slathering it in the alcohol, after all who knew when Hydra last cleaned their ‘tool’s. 

   “This is gonna hurt a bit doll,” Bucky whispers as he lifts the bloodied shirt up over (Y/N)’s arms. The damage he found was…more extensive than he thought. Their entire chest and stomach were covered in a number of gashes and wounds, most of them bleeding and coating their abdomen in blood. “Shit,” Bucky whispers softly as he gingerly runs his finger along some of the already bruising skin. (Y/N) whimpers in response, attempting to curl in on themself. 

   “Hey,” Bucky soothes, retracting his hand immediately. “It’s okay, I know it hurts baby but we’ve got to do this, kay?” (Y/N) bites their lip, looking up at Bucky from under their lashes, giving them an innocent look. They nod meekly once again, slowly unfurling from their own body. Bucky sighs as he takes in the blood pooling down their chest and down to their pants, coating the waistband in the crimson liquid. “You’ve got to be still for me, okay? I promise this is the worst part,” Bucky raises the cotton ball, gesturing to the saturated thing. (Y/N) nods once again as they squeeze their eyes shut as Bucky inches the cotton closer and closer. 

   Bucky bit his lip as he mentally prepared himself for the yelling to come but he was in no way prepared for the sudden sob that pushed it’s way through (Y/N)’s lips as he dragged the cotton ball through a gash. Tears stream down those beautiful cheeks and Bucky takes his free hand up to wipe them away. 

   “I know it hurts (Y/N), I know, we gotta do this though, okay?” (Y/N) nods quickly, biting their lip even harder as Bucky dips back down to press the cotton to their skin once again. He skims it along the wound, dabbing it here and there and the sob that spills from (Y/N)’s lips completely breaks his heart. 

  “I can’t Bucky, I can’t, it hurts too much,” Bucky buts his head up against (Y/N)’s rubbing their noses together. 

   “Yes you can (Y/N), you’re strong, you’ve got this,” Bucky presses a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, shushing their soft and heartbreaking whimpers. “I believe in you,” (Y/N) whimpers against him anyways, the sound vibrating against his lips. They’re silent for a bit, just sitting there with their lips pressed against each other’s, just appreciating the feeling. 

   “Just make it quick, please,” 

  “You got it doll,’ 

   What was meant to be quick quickly stretched onto an hour and half. An hour and a half of having to listen to (Y/N)’s heartbreaking cries, an hour and a half of trying not to break down and sob along with them, an hour and a half of patching up his poor broken baby. When they were done they were both thoroughly exhausted, from the poor sleep, to the kidnapping, to this, they both just wanted to go home and sleep for a week and Bucky was pretty sure he could achieve that if he wanted to but he still had to care for (Y/N) so there would be no week long naps for at least a few weeks. 

   Bucky had to pick (Y/N) back up again, once cleaning their body of all blood and grime and wrap them up in a towel, a very sad old one but at least it was keeping them somewhat covered and warm. Just as Bucky was about to open the door to the bathroom someone on the other side began to bang on it, causing both parties to flinch in surprise. 

   “We’ve landed,” Sam called out. “Just lettin’ you guys know,” Bucky wrapped the towel around (Y/N) a little tighter before opening the door, flashing Sam a grateful smile. Bucky mouths the word ‘thanks’ before walking out and into the chilly air of New York. (Y/N) squeaks and nuzzles their face into his neck, searching for some form of warmth. Bucky merely smiles as he turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to (Y/N)’s head. He ignores the strange looks he received from all the other tenants of Stark Tower, heading straight for his bedroom. 

  Bucky gently places (Y/N) on the bed, making sure they didn’t feel an pain or discomfort before crossing to their dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear and a baggy t-shirt for (Y/N) to wear, nothing to restricting, nothing that could cause them more pain. Without even being told what to do Bucky slips the underwear up their legs, stopping to press a series of kisses to their thighs. 

   No words needed to be spoken, it was an unspoken moment of pure love and adoration between the two. 

   Then Bucky slipped on their shirt, being careful of their aching back and chest. As he does so he presses a number of kisses to their collarbone, being wary of the stitches just below them. 

   “You realize it’s our anniversary?” (Y/N) asks softly once Bucky had placed their shirt on their body comfortably. Bucky looks up to (Y/N), stopping his tirade of kisses momentarily. 

   “How do you remember-” 

   “I’ve been counting down for weeks, kind of a shame we spent it in a Hydra base,” (Y/N) sighs as they bite their lip, their eyes fluttering to a close as they do so. Bucky stares at (Y/N) a moment longer before going back to pressing his feather light kisses along their skin. 

   “We’re together though, right? That’s all that really matters,” Bucky is able to murmur between kisses, only stopping long enough to get those few words out. 

   “So….you’re not disappointed?” Bucky stops once again, instead perking up to stare at (Y/N) incredulously. 

   “I could never be disappointed,” Bucky states as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So long as I have you by my side, I’m good,” 

   “So…you aren’t sad that we have to spend all day in bed-”

   “Spend all day in bed together? Of course not,” Bucky presses another kiss to (Y/N)’s skin, letting his lips linger there for a bit. “I’m actually looking forward to it,” Bucky doesn’t have to look up to now (Y/N) is smiling, he can just sense that radiant smile upon their lips. 

   “So we can- we can just cuddle all day?” Bucky smiles against (Y/N), the innocent question making him giggle softly. 

   “Course we can baby, it’d be my pleasure to,” 

anonymous asked:

Heeey! Hi. :) Taking prompts? I really liked your 'Reasons I would date Derek Hale' and I love the way you write, so! If you're up for writing some sterek, here goes my prompt: Stiles has to write an essay about the person he admires the most\is his personal hero and he writes about ... *drum roll* Derek! (and of course, because it's Stiles' life, Derek finds it and reads it and of course angst with happy ending happens)

EEEEEEEEE prompts!! You actually have the (dubious) honor to have inspired my first prompted fic, anon. I hammered this one out on the tail end of a loooooong cross-country trip, and it also turned out more on the fluffier end than the angstier (a shock for me, I know), but I hope you enjoy it anyway!!

Stiles’ first day of English following the whole “Miss Blake” fiasco is so bad that he actually misses her.

Yes. That bad.

Their substitute—or, now, real English teacher, at least until the end of the term and until the school board can hire somebody new and hopefully actually qualified—is the kind of little old lady that Stiles can picture baking pies and offering rosy-cheeked grandchildren mugs of homemade hot chocolate. Her eyes actually twinkle.

Though, when Stiles looks at the board, it dawns on him that it may be more of a demonic thing, the twinkling.

What is a hero? In 2000 words, please describe what a hero means to you and write about someone in your life that embodies all of these qualities.

“What a hero means to me?” Stiles recites tonelessly, as Lydia slips deftly into the desk beside him. “And next week’s assignment, ‘What you did on your summer vacation.’”

“Two thousand words?” Lydia sniffs. “I’m supposed to waste two thousand words on this?”

“Children,” the new teacher thrills, standing directly over them. Stiles flinches back, in case she wants to pinch his cheeks.

But after a moment under her deceptively kind gaze, she surveys the rest of the class.

“I’m Mrs. Gallagher,” She says, “I’ve been teaching at Beacon Hills High School since 1965. I retired a few years ago, but when they asked me to come back for a few weeks after the… departure of your previous teacher, of course I was thrilled to do so! I’m an old hand at this teaching thing, though, so I’m sorry to thwart your hopes of an easy last few weeks. Your first assignment, due on my desk Friday at the beginning of the period, has already been written on the board. As a few of you have already noticed.”

She strolls back to the front of the room—Stiles thinks she looks pretty spry, considering the pure white of her hair—and continues, “A hero is something deeply personal to each one of us. Of course, many of us call servicemen, firemen, or even celebrities heroes. For others, it may be a parent or friend. Or a teacher, though, of course, I’m prejudiced. You may choose to write on anyone in your personal life, as long as you can defend your reasoning as to calling them your personal hero.”

Lydia, of course, raises her hand immediately, but Mrs. Gallagher transitions seamlessly into gerunds before anyone can so much as protest.

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Pairing: Isaac x Reader

Summary: Isaac x reader based on the song Voodoo by Nick Jonas. It’s up to you what you want to make it about :)

If this is what you call love, I swear I’m better alone. I feel ya claws sinkin’ in, gettin’ under my skin like voodoo

“How do we always find ourselves in this position?”, asking Isaac as the two of you were trying to remove each others clothing upon entering the room. “I don’t know you tell me? Your the one that keeps calling me to come over”. He responded, cheekily nipping at your neck causing an immediate moan to escape your lips. Moving down onto his belt, within seconds it was discarded and thrown god knows where onto the floor.

Legs hit the end of the bed and the two of you fell on top of each other. “Just because I call doesn’t mean you have to actually come over”, you told him as he now worked on leaving his mark, which would disappear soon thanks to having fast healing abilities, the perks of being a werewolf.“We both know why I do though, I can’t stand the thought of someone else sinking their claws into you or vice versa”, with those exact words he gently bit down on your collarbone.“Is that jealously I’m smelling from you Isaac?”.

“You’re smelling a lot of things right now love, like arousal, lust-”, he leaned down and nibbled on your earlobe, “desire”, he whispered the last word as his claws scrapped your skin causing a wave of shivers. It was silent as Isaac moved down plastering kisses anywhere and everywhere. As he got to those certain bundle of nerves, his tongue worked wonders in getting each muscle in your body to relax and tighten all at the same time. Playing with a fist full of his hair, you arched your back as far as you could to allow him much more access.

“You know just because Theo is my alpha doesn’t mean I’m interested in him like that, or that I want to screw him for that matter, because I’m not and I don’t”. Breathing out that one sentence took great difficultly as Isaac wasn’t showing signs of slowing down. He stopped and lifted his head, “But yet here you are screwing me?”. It was cute how innocent he could be at times, “Let’s just say I love the thrill I feel when I’m with you, the sneaking around making sure neither pack finds out. The rush is addictive, don’t you think?”. Travelling your hand down his chest, Isaac smirked and then proceeded to finish what he started.

Panting excessively it was certainly quite a workout that Isaac and you just participated in. Laying down the silence was interrupted by your phone buzzing, turning over to pick up the call the screen read Theo. You turned to Isaac to indicate for him to stay quiet as you pressed the talk button. “Hello”, as you were listening to Theo, telling you that he needed to meet up to discuss a few things. Isaac thought it would be a good idea to start the second round. His warm lips attached themselves to your neck, as if you didn’t already have enough marks, however Isaac had no problem in adding more. With the distraction of Isaac working on your neck and his hands roaming under the sheets, you bit hard onto your lip suppressing a moan. It became more and more difficult to even concentrate on what Theo was saying. Knowing if you didn’t hang up soon this whole secret fling with Isaac would be exposed, and that’s something you didn’t want happening. So cutting the conversation short, you interrupted Theo. “Alright, I’ll see you soon”.

Hanging up the call, you flipped Isaac over. Pinning his hands together he now had a better, clear view of your body which only caused him to smirk like crazy. “That was a risky move, considering it was extremely hard for me to not react. What if Theo noticed?”, you asked Isaac. He played with the bed sheets and slid them inch by inch, not bothering to answer he simply let his hands do the talking and so round two begun.

Running to the meet up point, you were officially late thanks to Isaac and his need to tease you continuously. Opening the large door, Theo was standing back towards you ruffling with what looked to be blueprints. He turned and looked rather unimpressed, but then again you rather him be mad that you were late then have him knowing what, or who, you were really doing. “I called half an hour ago Y/N, why are you so late?”. Approaching the table, the title of alpha sure did get to Theo’s head at times and you were one of the few in the pack that could go head to head with him. “Theo you may be my alpha, but I’m not at your beckon call every hour of every day. I said I’d be here, I didn’t specify when I’d actually come”. Technically what you said was true, all you told him was that you’d see him soon. So in theory you weren’t lying.

Challenging Theo was something not a lot of people had the guts to do, and maybe that’s why he paid more attention to you than any of the others. Theo opted for a smug look, “You know you’re quite witty and quick with that mouth babygirl. And in case you didn’t know I’m pretty good with mine too. So how about we stop talking and find other enjoyable ways to use our mouths?”. Okay so when you told Isaac that you weren’t interested in Theo like that, it was a little white lie. Many months ago if Theo had made this comment you’d have no issue with taking him up on his offer. However, since this whole sneaking around with Isaac started you didn’t want any other man.

"That would be highly inappropriate don’t you think? You are my alpha after all”, you replied. The distance between the two of you grew shorter, and it had all to do with Theo making it no secret that he wanted to close that gap. “Since when do you care if something is inappropriate? I’ve made it no secret that you’re my favourite. Don’t tell me you aren’t curious to see how you and I would collide…so to speak”. He stepped forward one last time and your heart rate increased, you had no idea that Theo would provide this sort of affect. He continued, “I bet it would be wild, sexy, passionate”, Theo dipped his lips closer to yours. If you were to step even an inch forward, lips would meet. The next few words he spoke sent your mind into crazy mode, “We’d be explosive in every way, baby”. With no time to register anything, Theo slammed his lips onto yours.

Shortly after, you rushed out of there not being able to comprehend what just happened. You knew Theo was interested in you, however being kissed by your alpha was certainly a tricky position to be in. Unlocking the door you half expected to see Isaac gone, but that wasn’t the case. He was sitting down on your bed, the sheets a mess from previous activities and Isaac was fully dressed. “How was the meeting? It sure took a while”, he asked with a very tightened jaw and fist. Taking off you jacket, as you walked pass the mirror the evidence of your lips being swollen was evident. Whether that was a combination of Isaac and Theo, or just Theo was too difficult to determine. “It was fine. Yeah since I was late Theo extended the meeting”.

Issac stood up, “Is that right? Does extending the meeting mean having a make out session with you?!”, Isaac exclaimed looking more and more angry with each passing second. “Wait what, you were there? You could of gotten caught! What were you thinking Isaac?”, you shouted back not believing he could be careless enough to risk exposing the two of you.

“What was I thinking?! What were you thinking kissing Theo goddamn Raeken, who by the way you stated this morning you weren’t interested in!”. Isaac had a short temper which meant getting him to listen to reason, was a tough job. “As cliche as this sounds, he kissed me! And by the way it kinda takes a second to register that someone has just randomly kissed you”. Isaac came over and hovered before you with his height, “Well if that’s the case, then how about you call Theo to come over and he can keep you warm at night”. With that Isaac pushed past you and as he walked out, you were left with an undeniable sense of guilt and emptiness.

Ever since Isaac stormed out of your room, which was a few hours ago, you had been having a mentally debate whether or not to call him. Theo however had rang a couple of times, neither of which you picked up. Slumping back down on the bed, the offer Theo extended early that day was tempting. But the one you really wanted to help keep you warm at night was Isaac, no matter how good Theo was supposedly in the bedroom, in your mind Isaac had everything you needed. He knew every one of your buttons to push to make you scream out in pleasure, he knew all the right spots to touch and kiss, he had explored your body, as you did with his, more times than you could count. Both of you synced so perfectly, there was no way you were going to give all that up for just one unsure night with Theo.

Getting up you reached for the phone when there was a light knock at the door. It cracked open and Isaac walked in. “I was just about to call you”, confessing to the boy who marched over and connected his lips to yours. After a minute of a hot make out session, which left you in a daze, he pulled back. When thoughts were all clear again, you spoke. “I don’t understand you left here pretty mad, why-”. Isaac pressed a finger to your lips, “I meant what I said this morning, about not being able to stand someone else’s hands touching you, other than mine. And there is no way I’m going to let Theo Raeken sink his claws into my girl”.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, the feeling of him announcing you were his girl made you smile. “To be honest I’d rather your claws than anyone else’s”. Seeing a grin appear on his face was a highlight, especially after he had been mad hours before. “Good, because I’m done hiding us”, he confessed. Un-zipping his jeans tonight was all about him, you pushed him down onto the bed. Straddling Isaac, you weren’t blind to the fact that you had him wrapped around you finger, he was attached and so were you. And that’s how both of you knew that the other would always come back, no matter what.

theperfectmasterpiece  asked:

My birthday is Dec 26! College Everlark that's full of fluff and smut. Thanks!

Originally posted by homerjaypug

Happy birthday to you! Here’s a drabble donated by the wonderful @pagedancer87

Summary: Sorority politics keeps Katniss from Peeta on an important night, or do they? Sequel to Honey Trap.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Katniss cursed under her breath as she faced the three people who blocked her way out. She straightened, and schooled her features.

“Oh, nowhere. Just going for a quick run.” She said, hoping the tracksuit she wore along with her well-worn sneakers lent credence to her statement.

“Really?” Glimmer crossed her arms over her overly padded chest. “You sure you don’t mean a run over to Tribute Hall? You’ve been awfully cozy with their Lieutenant Mellark.”

“Fraternizing with those lowlifes,” Clove sneered. “What’s the matter, Everdeen? No one else on campus willing to slum it?”

Keep reading

janne-enchy  asked:

(Ask of a friend who doesnt own tumblr) "something I want to See From you is what dog breed you think the companions and factions would own and what they do together/How they Use them. Thank you if you do this! ^3^"

Ahhhh okay this was much longer than originally expected but I’m quite pleased with it. ^-^ Alrightly roo well @janne-enchy​ I hope your friend enjoys this and tell her I said thank you for sending it in because omg I got to look at so many dog pictures because of this it was so much fun. Also Danse’s dog’s name would be a tip of the hat @raiven-raine​ and her wonderful character ;)

Hancock: A Chocolate Lab named Sam. She’s really just a pet and she is completely spoiled tbh. Hancock complains about her sleeping in his bed, “You have a bed over there! Go get in it!” he always tells her pointing to her pile of blankets on the floor, but has yet to push her out when she joins him for a nap. She’s friendly to most but does seem to have a natural talent for knowing who the bad guys are and does not try to hide it (even going to far as to nip one man, who later turned out to be planning on killing Hancock). Needless to say she got a treat for that.

Nick: A Bloodhound named Winston. Half because useful for when your tracking people down in the Commonwealth, half because he just wanted someone with him when he went off for a case by himself. Nick’s been known to have full conversations with Winston, even around people who could most certainly talk to. “Now don’t give me that look, Winston. You know as well as I do that she won’t be there. We’re gonna have to go down into the sewer. Look, I know you don’t like it but we gotta,” Nick sighed. “Of course there’ll be treats you old mutt.” He says it’s easier to bounce his thoughts off Winston. Ellie says he’s crazy. Winston just listens to what his people has to say and hopes he’ll get a treat soon.

Deacon: A Canaan named Iris. She was originally just suppose to be used to support one of his disguises but they bonded during the mission and then he just couldn’t give her away afterwards. He takes her with him on some recon missions but mostly she says at HQ now. She kinda mopes when he’s away, but is always so excited when he comes back. Course by then she’s gotten used to sleeping in his bed and he has to deal with her trying to sleep on his chest every night. She’s not useful for much except for fetching balls, but she has been known to really calm down the nervous newbies who pass through HQ just by being around.

Maccready: A Weimaraner named Lucy. Did he want a dog? No. Did he need a dog? Also no. Did he have a dog? Yes. Their paths crossed one afternoon when he was literally thrown into a dumpster by some of the Gunners had been with at the time. She had been in there with three of her dead siblings. He couldn’t leave her. The other had made fun of his feeble attempts to get her healthy again, but he had done it. Eventually she was just as playful and healthy as any other dog. He probably would never admit it, but having her around makes him feel safer. She’s a good guard dog and on top of that not even a little gun shy (which is a good thing all things considered). The only problems he’s ever had with her are her not getting along with Dogmeat. Other than she is the epitome of a good dog.

Preston: An American Foxhound named Henry. Henry was given as a gift from someone who wanted to express their gratitude for Preston saving their lives. Preston was very unsure about it at the time, but he had accepted him. He was already trained and everything he figured, what’s the worst that could happen. Apparently the worst is that Henry bays at literally every single stray noise he hears. And Preston has had to run after more than once because he went sniffing off to find a Radstag or a squirrel or just something. Preston complains but he loves him anyway.

Cait: A Mini Dachshund named Dog (Cait is so creative). Only God knows how Cait managed to find such an old dog in the Commonwealth but she did and ended up keeping him. Dog’s got about the same temperament as Cait does tbh. He barks/growls at pretty much anybody who isn’t Cait or Sole. Cait, Dog, Sole, and Dogmeat go out on walks quite a bit. Cait always ends up carrying Dog back home though. “Short fella outta learn the he can’t keep up with such a big dog,” she always says.  He likes to try and sleep under her, which annoys Cait but, she let’s him burrow under the covers with her anyway.

Piper: A Beagle named Biscuit. Nat just hadddd to have a dog. She begged Piper for months until Piper finally agreed. The pup somehow ended up being more of Piper’s dog than Nat’s though. He likes to try and get in her lap when Piper is writing. Which often prompts the talk she so often has to have with the pup. “Now, Bisk, we’ve talked about this before. When I am writing, there are no cuddles and there are no pets and there are no treats. Go lay down,” she told him, putting him back down on the floor. He always gives her that look that makes her feel very guilty about the whole ordeal but she had learned she couldn’t cave when she got those looks or else he just wouldn’t listen. And that was how he always managed to wiggle his way into her lap whenever she sat down anywhere beside’s her writing desk.

Danse: A Golden Retriever named Lucky. Sole gave it to him after the whole Blind Betrayal ordeal, they said it would help him, maybe take his mind off things. He had agreed only because Sole had seemed so hopeful about it. And perhaps he was unable to admit it but Lucky really had helped him. More than once she had comforted him when he was having a panic attack or when he woke up from a bad dream. And all she asked for in return was that he take he takes her for walks and that he play ball.

Curie: A Schipperke named Shadow. She stumbled across him one even and almost shot at him because she thought he was a Molerat, but then he came closer and she realized he was just a dog. A mangy, skinny dog at that. She couldn’t leave him like that. So she ended up taking him home and taking care of him. She had meant to give him to somehow she just kept putting it off and putting it off until finally she just ended up keeping him. She may of may not give him too many treats……..It’s probably a good thing they go for so many walks. He’s just a pet really, but he is also a great watchdog. Course he barks at everything that moves, but that’s okay. Curie says she’d rather be woken up because he was barking at the wind than dying in her sleep cause it wasn’t just the wind.

X688: A German Shepard named Nuka Cola (mostly called Nuke or Nuka). Nuka was trained and breed specifically for battle. The Institute had wanted to see how well the dogs worked with their coursers. Nuke did very well but once the mission was over the scientist had wanted to take the dogs back, which was unacceptable. Of course X6 couldn’t directly disagree with such an order, as that would contradict his programming and mean he had gotten attached to the dog. Sole stepped in though. There was quite an argument but in the end, X688 got to keep Nuka. Now Nuka goes on every mission with him and also has a bed in his room at the Institute. The only problem she has is that she growls at the scientist, but they don’t dare say a word about it when X688 or Sole is around. Both of whom give her extra treats when she does it.

Strong: A Saint Bernard named Bernard. It’s not really that he got a dog it’s more like, there was a dog and he gave it some food and then the dog just decided to stick around forever??????? Strong just calls him Bernard and feeds him really. He’s gotten attached to the stray though. He has bashed people’s heads in more than once because they had shot at/ kicked/ or just been mean to the dog. In turn the dog keeps watch while he sleeps. They have an agreeable relationship.

Desdemona: A Boxer named Thor. He’s a bouncy big dog who has really always been there for her. She’s had him since she was a child. For some reason scares quite a few members of the Railroad though. Some say she needs to get rid of him. Dez tells them, “You can either deal with him, or you can leave.” They go for walks semi regularly. He’s about the only reason she goes out anymore. When she can’t do it, she makes Deacon or Carrington take him. They’re the only ones she trusts with him. She does worry that he’s getting old but Carrington says he’s healthy as a horse as far as he can tell, so she tries to relax about it.

Maxson: A Rottweiler named Odin. He tends to scare the Imitates, but really that’s not his fault. He’s actually pretty friendly, the children aboard the Prydwen love him. He always begs for food in the cafeteria but Maxson says they shouldn’t feed him their food….not that that has ever stopped the kids from sneaking him some scraps every now and then. No one knows how Maxson ended up with Odin, not even Maxson, who had woken up one day to find a puppy in his room. Begrudgingly, he had decided to keep him though. He had convinced himself that the pup would one day be useful in a battle if trained properly, but really that dog has never been anywhere near a battle and never would cause Maxson had become so attached to him.

Father: No pup here. He doesn’t like dogs and has never had one.

Glory: An American Staffordshire Terrier named Fluffy. (A name Deacon had suggested as a joke) She got him because she was tired of going on missions alone tbh. Fluffy was more than happy to go anywhere she wanted as long as he got a treat and a scratch behind the ears when they got there. Glory likes to talk to him when they’re alone but never really does it when there are other people around. Somehow Deacon found out about it though and now he likes to tease her about it. “The secrets this dog knows,” Deacon often marvels. “Bark once for yes, twice for no, now,” he tell him and starts asking him questions. Glory just rolls her eyes and tell him, “Are you kidding? I have Fluffy sworn to secrecy. Plus, I’m the one who gives him the treats around here. You’ll never get a word outta him.” 

See No Evil

Marichat May Day 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

“Shame we’re not out in the countryside,” Marinette says.  “Mama and Papa took me out there once.”

Chat doesn’t say anything, but settles the blanket more firmly around his shoulders.

“Can see the whole Milky Way, just stretched out across the sky,” she continues. “Just this huge blanket of stars.”

“You’re really not worried?” Chat says quietly.  “About Alya?”

Marinette pauses.  “I thought,” she says, “that we were supposed to be having a romantic night out.”

Chat sighs and gently grasps her under the arms, lifting her into his lap.  “You’ve been dodging the question for two weeks.”

“What question?”


“You are not being a very supportive boyfriend,” Marinette says.

“I didn’t know that part of being your boyfriend was being a bobbleheaded yes man,” Chat replies with mild reproof.

Marinette doesn’t respond, but tucks her chin into her chest.

“This whole thing with Alya is hurting you,” he says.

“We’ll get over it,” Marinette says.

“Not if you don’t talk to her about it,” Chat says. “You guys barely so much as look at each other anymore.”  Chat holds Marinette a little tighter against him as a chill breeze wafts past.  “And when you do talk, you end up arguing half the time.”

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Marinette says after a long silence.  Chat shrugs.

“I think that your concerns were valid,” he says.  “Yes, Alya doesn’t always know when it’s appropriate to stop—as do you, on occasion—but at the same time I think that if you’d talked to her at the start, you could’ve worked something out.”

“It isn’t as though she needs to gatekeep every relationship that I have,” Marinette mutters.

“Also true,” Chat acknowledges.  “But this was more than that on multiple levels.”

“Look,” he says, “I think that you made the right call.  But think about how she must feel.”

Marinette shrinks against him as he continues.  “First, Alya is your best friend.  You share everything with her, and the idea that you were keeping a secret as big as us from her probably hurt a lot more in that context.  Second, you know how much Ladybug and I mean to her, and to have me sitting right here, visiting you almost daily while she has to fight for every scrap of video she gets”—he shrugs—“must be a slap in the face to her.”

“I know all of this,” Marinette says, her voice gaining a little heat.  “What, do you think I’m stupid?”

“I think that you’re a lot like Ladybug,” Chat says levelly.  “Sometimes, the both of you need a little push.”

“So how do you suggest I fix this, huh?” Marinette says.

“I don’t know,” Chat says after a moment with a sigh.  “I’ve never had to go through something like this.  But I think that it starts with you letting her know that you know you did wrong.”

Marinette doesn’t respond.

“Damn you,” she says after a minute.  “Let me get my phone.”

Moonchild (Part 5)

Description: Dean x Reader. When a witch hunt goes south and events unfold that Dean couldn’t have expected, Dean faces the question of just who the reader really is… or was.
Words: 1,856
Warnings: Nothing I can see
Author’s Note: Second to last one now guys! I’m really really enjoying this one and it’ll be sad to see it go for me but it’s officially my longest series to date so that’s pretty cool! Tagging @autoblocked and @bookshido - enjoy!

Previous parts: Prologue • Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4

Off the back of the tip from the sketchy looking man in the pub, Dean and Cas took a walk down to the river to hopefully find and spy on Y/N’s meeting with Rowena. It hadn’t been hard to locate them, stood by a bridge leading to the opposite bank. They’d obviously been there for a few minutes but Dean couldn’t hear what was being said yet he squinted into the breeze, trying to piece together what was going on anyway. He was good at analysing body language these days, he had to be for the sake of survival… knowing when someone was going in for the attack or when they were hiding an exploitable injury - that’d saved Sammy and you before, and provided he could get back would do again. Well, save Sammy at least.

There were other less violent uses for reading people, if they were lying or if they were upset or angry. Things like that could be tricky if people were used to hiding them, but normally everyone has a tell. Some are a lot better at masking those tells than others, for example Sam and Dean pretty much lived off of burying those, however, as nice as subtlety was, from this distance it was the obvious readings that could be just as useful.

As he watched the meeting take place though, he could see a major problem with how Y/N dealt with her mother, what started as dismissal slowly dissolved into something else. Shoulders beginning to slump, a guard being let down and he knew Y/N was giving in to whatever Rowena was saying. Defeat had a defined look to it, and he was looking right at it.

He hoped it was a trivial thing but this was a fair few years from the first time he’d seen this Y/N, she was an adult and it left him feeling a little sick at what might have just been said. There was a reason he’d been sent back, and this was it… whatever was happening right in front of him.

The river was picturesque in the low evening light, reflecting the moon and stars straight back at the figures stood beside it, shining off of Y/N’s hair. It burbled and rushed past, drowning out even the faintest murmur of conversation to his ears.

“Cas… Can you hear what they’re saying?” Dean said in a low voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the river side meeting.

Cas stayed quiet, straining his ears to pick up what was going on. “Rowena is talking about a spell,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he listened in.

A spell seemed about right, it was Rowena they were dealing with of course, but when Cas’ eyes shot wide open, Dean doubted himself.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

Cas turned to Dean, shock evident on his face. He swallowed hard and diverted his eyes away from his friend, “I know why you’re here, Dean.”

“And?” Dean asked, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“That… that is Y/N,” Cas answered in a gruff voice.

Dean opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but when he met Cas’ gaze, the real meaning of what he meant hit home. His eyes prickled and his heart hammered in his chest as the realisation came crashing down around his ears, even if he could’ve heard what was going on between the two women, he wouldn’t have registered it now.

She was you. She wasn’t simply a lookalike, she was you. His Y/N.

Every word that had come out of your mouth, every scrap of lore you’d memorised, the contacts who had always seemed to know more than they let on… it was because of this. He’d always thought you to be the innocent one that needed guiding, but it might have been the other way around.

“Dean…” Cas said quietly, looking as if he didn’t know whether to offer a hug or if he was going to pounce to withstrain his friend. He seemed surprised, but nothing compared to Dean.

If Rowena being related was a bombshell, then this was a frigging nuke.
Blinking dumbly, Dean carried on staring at the figures up ahead. You, manipulated by your mother and Rowena, shoulder held back and head held high. Sometimes being able to read body language was a curse… but he’d never thought he’d misread you. He cared for you and you’d always returned it, perhaps even more than he had. But that couldn’t get over the fact that you were Y/N, you were a small town English girl and you were a witch.

Through the adrenaline of shock, more and more pieces clicked together. How you’d always known just what herbs to add to a lotion when he and Sammy were injured, forever an old soul and how you’d always avoided questions about family, living in the present and forgetting the past. This past that stood playing out just metres away.

“She’s…” Dean said in a husky voice, pausing as his jaw clenched and unclenched, “she never said a thing.”

“I don’t think she wanted to agree to it,” Cas said, “this wasn’t the first time Rowena offered but I think it may have been the last.”

“Yeah…” Dean nodded, “do you know if she… How many people did she hurt?”
“I cannot be certain,” Cas answered honestly, “but you know her, she couldn’t have faked her personality for that long.”

Dean bit his lip, thinking back. There had never been a glimmer of you harming him or Sammy, or really being any different to any other hunter. You’d hurt people, yes, but never anyone who didn’t deserve it, just like anyone in the life did. You were one of the best people he had ever met, but you were nearly 200, or at least you had been anyway, and that wasn’t normal. Coming back from the dead, he couldn’t really judge people on that given his history, but defying death for centuries on end? It was unnatural, but he supposed you hadn’t in the end.

“I want to go back,” Dean whispered before his tone changed sharply, “now. No more surprises, I want to… God, I don’t even know what, just something. Maybe wake up?”

“You’re not asleep.”

Dean knew really that to be dreaming would be too optimistic, to think he could just wake up next to you in a comfortable bed with this as a bad dream that he could laugh about over a morning coffee, luck like that just didn’t happen to him. He never got luck, he got anger and death… He wasn’t sure yet if he was more furious at Rowena, your killer or the you he knew for the whole situation, but he did know he couldn’t watch Rowena talk to you any longer.

“Can I leave now?” Dean asked quietly, toeing the dirt beneath his feet.

The angel said nothing in response, only nodded understandingly and placed two long fingers to his temple. Closing his eyes, Cas willed the pair back to their correct timeline. Nothing happened for a moment or two and Dean’s stomach sank at the thought of having to witness something else that your killer was wanting him to see. Cas frowned and tilted his head concentrating hard, Dean squeezed his eyes closed and hoped for the best. He felt relieved as he finally felt the customary flip, signalling he was about to be zapped to heaven knows where.


When Dean prised his eyes open, he took a look around him, never had he been so happy to see the street lights and telephone lines above his head. It took him a moment or ten to get over the initial shock but he then breathed a shaky sigh of relief as he realised he was back in the modern day, and judging by the area, just a block away from where he’d last been with you. He wondered how long had passed or if it was the exact moment he phased out, would you still be there or had Sammy been and found your body by now?

“We’re back,” he sighed.

Cas nodded briefly, looking to Dean again to attempt to judge his reaction to the situation, “I can return you to the bunker if you’d prefer, I think-”

“No, I… I just need to see Y/N.”

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s-” Dean didn’t wait for Cas to finish his sentence before setting off in the direction of where the impala had been parked, the angel let out a short sigh but was instantly at Dean’s heels.

The eldest Winchester didn’t have a plan, not any sort of theory that mattered anyway. His mind was feeling hazy and numb by now, too much buried anger, too many nasty shocks, and too little sleep will do that to a person, but it wasn’t anything he’d never bitten the bullet and fought through before.

Cas trailed along silently, hand fiddling with his coat pocket, visibly debating if he had time to message Sam or not. Dean may be blindly charging on, yet really even Dean knew himself that it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, Sam would have to be told at some point but maybe now was not the best moment. He might not even be aware anything had happened yet, that was the problem with time travel, people rarely seemed to know you’d been gone and yet your entire views on the universe could’ve changed in that time.

He pulled his jacket snugly around himself as he walked, looking around the dark streets. It couldn’t be much further now, just round the corner… Suddenly, Dean came to an abrupt stop just a few feet in front of Cas who, deep in thought, narrowly avoided flying into Dean’s back. He waved an arm, signalling for the angel to stay quiet as he peered down between the buildings ahead.

Quite a way down on one side of the road, was the impala, parked beside a fire hydrant and two silhouettes could be seen sitting inside. Dean recognised the back of his own head and with a pang in his heart, he knew the person next to him must be you, alive and moving. A tight smile tugged at his lips but he swallowed it as he saw on the other side of the street and slightly further down was a figure skulking through the shadows, gaze fixed on the unsuspecting occupants.

Dean didn’t need to think twice, he knew he was too far away to stop what was about to happen, “Cas-”

“It’s a set event, I can’t-”

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, “DO SOMETHING-”

A sudden wind swept stands of hair across Dean’s face and he glanced around just in time to see Castiel appear behind the dark figure who was mere metres from the impala. There was a flurry of movement, he saw a glint of silver metal, glass smashed into a million little pieces, followed by blood curdling female scream echoing through the night. And then, as quickly as it began, all was quiet once again.

☆ 山田涼介 birthday post ☆

Characteristics - Because I have a cat allergy (really), I can’t be close to other cats. In addition to „nyan“ I also speak the human language.

Favourite food - Cat food. Because I like to settle down, it’s okay for my owner to not waste time on me. I can be a good cat.

Likes - Females. My owner can only be a girl, so at home I want you to always wear a skirt. This is definitely my wish!

Dislikes - Males. When my owner’s boyfriend comes to her house, I’ll become angry and start walking on two legs to quickly run away from home!

Happy 23rd birthday Yama-chan!

I wanted to not just post this small translation but also say a few words about the guy who has brought me to the Johnny’s fandom.

I think it was in 2009 when I came across “Scrap Teacher” and since I was/am quite addicted to dramas I decided to give it a try. I like those kind of dramas anyways but baby-Yama has caught my eyes back then and I wanted to know more about him. Back then I wasn’t as big of an internet person as I am today (also I was still very young and I didn’t own my own computer), but I used my spare time to research facts and interviews about Yama, and one thing led to another and I found out about Hey!Say!JUMP and Johnny’s. I checked out other Johnny’s groups as well and I was always up to date with mostly everything, but no group did I like as much as I liked HSJ (and they’re still my favourite until this day even though I know this blog makes it seem like it’s Sexy Zone :D). 

So, I owe a lot of things to Yama. Not only did he and HSJ bring me a lot of joy, they encouraged me and made me happy with their songs and videos, and also thanks to them I was able to meet many people and great friends. There were ups and downs of course but I always enjoyed this fandom.

I have always been fascinated with Yama’s story and life. He’s such a generous, happy, down-to-earth guy who still sparkles and radiates that typical idol-aura. I can only imagine how hard it must have been in this industry, always being pressured to do his best especially after becoming the centre, always being looked up to, always having to be a good role model. I know, that is what this industry is about and if you’re one of the company’s top idols, it’s just natural to have to deal with all those hardships.

But people often forget that idols too are just human beings. They have emotions, needs and wishes. I’m happy that Yama managed to make his dream come true but I often have the feeling that he’s taking everything too serious (not that this is a bad thing) but I feel like he’s pushing himself to that extent where he suffers physically and mentally. Remember when Yama talked about the filming of “Okaa-san, ore wa daijoubu”? He said he didn’t eat nor sleep for days just so that he could portray his character of a boy with a tremendous uncurable illness. I know Yama is passionate about his acting career but I really don’t want him to do things like that in the future. I think he isn’t really aware of how these actions can affect his body and his mind later on. 

And I think he worries too much about his height and weight issues. He’s so perfect the way he is, may he be a little chubby or a little too short in the eyes of some people, to me he is perfect. And that is not because of his outward appearance. I love the character he portrays in the public and to the fans. I especially love the times when we catch a glimpse of Yama’s true character, how he’s in private and how he’s just the normal boy next door who also has insecurities and fears. He shouldn’t battle his fear of heights on a daily basis just to please us fans, I don’t want to see him cry when I know his fear is genuine and I certainly don’t want him to go to work thinking that today he will feel anxious and scared and will not enjoy what he’s going to do. 

I want to see more of the Yama who plays with puppies, who takes care of little children, who sings and dances his favourite songs and enjoys his performances and concerts. I want him to go to coffee shops without people harassing him. I want him to be able to google himself without finding negative comments about his weight, the way he behaves, people who tell him he’s “too overrated” and “he doesn’t deserve the fame he has now”. He does. freaking. deserve it. He worked so hard to achieve what he has now, if people are too blind to see that it’s their fault. But even I read those comments on a daily basis and I don’t understand them when Yama is such a beautiful human being and does nothing to harm others (on the opposite: he helps them, he’s here for his fans through his music). He loves his band members dearly (remember the making of “Mystery virgin” and how Yama constantly mentioned he misses JUMP, and how sad he looked like?) and he’s kind to staff people, to fans and basically everyone around him, even when he doesn’t need to be.

Challenges are always good and important to improve yourself, but Yama-chan you already do so much for your fans and you should think about your own well-being from time to time too. Or at least that’s what I personally want you to do. In the end this is just my opinion and my point of view of being a fan for about 7 years. I love this guy so much and I want him to be happy with the people he chooses to be with in his life and the choices he decides to make. You’re a big idol and role model not just in Japan but for people all over the world and you have achieved great things. I am proud of you and that is why I wish you a happy, happy birthday from the bottom of my heart ♡ 

You just turned 23 and that’s still so young, you have your whole life ahead of you and whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here to support you. Celebrate your birthday with your friends and family and have a good time, there’s nothing wrong with doing that and I really hope you continue to do your best, but don’t forget to always take care of yourself. I love you!

/this was my super cheesy birthday letter brb gotta write this in Japanese now to send it to Yama :P

anonymous asked:

Hi. I'm starting to approach my own long fic. And every fic I started in the past I ran out of steam. I want to finish some of them but cringe at my old writing style. How have you kept going with freight for three years?

Hi! First off, I want to say awesome! Long stories are some of the hardest to write, in my opinion, and I’m really proud of you for taking the plunge. Woo!

As for how I’ve kept going with Freight for the last three years, well–that’s kind of a tricky question to answer. I’ve grown so much as both a writer and a person since the original idea came popped into my head, and by extension my writing process has changed, too. There’s no quick fix or easy method to follow, I think, and tackling on a big project like Freight has definitely had it’s ups and downs. Everyone is different, so what I’ve found works for me might not work for you. But! That being said,  I’ll try to outline some of the things I do/have done!

  1. I’ve started dozens of big writing projects, only to drop them halfway through. My old FF.net account is proof of that–about half of the unfinished stories I haven’t deleted over the years are still sitting dormant in various fandom archives. It’s a natural thing, I think–something every writer goes through. We jump into a story and hit the ground running, and then lose steam before we can get very far at all. When I first got the idea for Freight, I decided that I was really going to stick with the story, something I hadn’t been able to do with more than a few projects before. So, naturally, I did the exact opposite of what I thought I was supposed to do: I didn’t write.
  2. Yep, you read that right. Freight actually “started” in February-ish of 2013, but I didn’t put the first chapter down on paper (or the computer, really) until August. So what did I do in the meantime? I planned. I outlined the whole thing, scrapped that draft, and then outlined it all again. I think there are three separate versions floating around my apartment right now, actually. I started with a basic idea (zombie apocalypse), then built the frame for my characters (What are their family relationships? What are their skill sets? Which aspects of their personalities am I going to highlight?), and then crafted my setting. A lot of that initial work is handwritten, because I have an easier time visualizing things with charts and lists. Only after I’d finished the worldbuilding did I sit down and hammer out the plot, which I organized into arcs and built around a timeline.
  3. The arc frame and timeline are, for me, the most important parts of this whole process. They’re your skeleton, especially the arcs. I think one of the most daunting things about a big writing project is the sheer size of it. You can plan everything out, but as soon as you sit down to write the first few chapters you can get overwhelmed. With arcs, you have a very clear idea of what you need to do, and a very clear “end” in sight. You don’t have to think of your story as one big hulking mess, and instead can look at it in pieces. The timeline plays into that, too. You only have so many fictional days to fill with content, so you’re limiting the amount of pressure you put on yourself.
  4. Sitting down to write the first chapter was, I think, the hardest thing for me. You do all this planning and get everything finalized, and now you have to go through it from the beginning and actually, you know, make real words happen. I wrote three or four drafts of the first chapter and wasn’t happy with any of it, so I took a step back and reevaluated my process again. The way I decided to approach each chapter after that little setback was similar to how I approached the story as a whole: outline, break each chapter up into scenes or “mini-arcs”, and focus my attention on each so I wouldn’t try to move too fast or do too much. Focusing on smaller pieces of a whole also helps me keep the pacing of the entire story in check, because I’m forced to finish a complete sequence of events before moving on to another, and so on. You can’t jump around or skip large chunks of events, because you’re locked into that one scene.
  5. Research! Half the fun of building a world or writing dialogue or creating characters is getting into it all. If you’re invested in learning, you’ll be invested in writing. I once spent a week learning basic French grammar just to do four lines of dialogue for a character, and holy crap that was fun! Knowledge is empowering, and it can give you the push you need to move forward though uncertainty. (And you’ll never be without a conversation starter if your head is filled with random facts about post-harvest vegetable storage on organic farms.)
  6. Another thing that really helps me is music. This might sound kind of corny, but I love AMVs and movie trailers, so what I’ll do is find a few songs and listen to them while I’m driving or chilling. I’ll picture scenes based on how the music flows, or the lyrics, or the feel of the song itself. Hard dubstep like, say, “Into the Labrynth” by Kraddy? That’s going to be a battle scene. Each pounding bass drop is a swinging weapon, each lull in the melody is a pause in the action for dialogue, the big drop in the middle (around 3:00 I think) signals the rise of a new threat on top of the chaos. Soft acoustic like, maybe, “All I Want” by Stonefox? That’s a quiet morning, sun streaming through large windows; coffee steam and subtle glances and self-doubt. Watching someone else from a distance; exhaustion; resignation in the face of longing. You feel the change in the music, so you feel the movement of each scene. I spend almost as much time listening to music and planning things as I do writing stuff down, I think.
  7. I write every day. This might just be something I do because I want to write professionally–like, writing is pretty much my whole life right now. But I start with a quick writing exercise to warm up my creative juices and then set to work on whatever project I’m going to do for the day. Even if I don’t make it to the “real” writing because I get distracted or something happens, I’ve at least done something to stay in practice, and to stay in my mental “writing place” if that makes any sense. I’ve trained myself to expect that part of my daily routine, so actually sitting down to type the story out isn’t such a burden anymore. Writing exercises are also good if you’re not sure how to write a scene, a series of actions, a feeling, dialogue, or describe a character/setting. Isolate that thing, whatever it may be, and practice it. A few of my shorter stories are actually just writing exercises that I liked enough to put up on Ao3.
  8. Don’t beat yourself up if you get stuck. Writer’s block happens to everyone. What’s important is that you don’t dwell on it, and don’t let it suck you in. I deal with writer’s block by powering through and writing, writing, writing until stuff starts flowing the way I want it to, but don’t be afraid to take a break. Do something else for a week, write a one-shot or two (emphasis on one-shot; don’t start another big project if you’re stumped with something you’re seriously determined to finish–that will shift your focus, and that’s the opposite of what you want), or write a different part of the same story. Getting burned out sucks, but it happens. What’s important is that you don’t dwell on it.
  9. Settle into a “writing routine”. This will help you mentally. I already mentioned that I do warmups every time I write, but I also have a few other things that help me get in the zone. I drink two cups of coffee while I’m doing my warmup, and I have a pitcher of water that I’m constantly refilling a glass from while I work. I make the same sandwich every time I’m really pushing through (toast, pepper jack cheese, sliced avocado, lime juice, chili powder) if I need a short break. I sit in the same spot every time I write, I block tumblr on both Firefox and Chrome, etc, etc. This will help you fall into the groove faster, and make the process less painful.
  10. Don’t worry about what people are going to think of your story. I know sometimes getting no comments or only a few kudos on the first chapter can be discouraging, but remember to write for you and not anyone else. It’s easier said than done, definitely, but sometimes stuff like that takes time. Push through the self-doubt if you have to, and look at what you’re doing as means to improve your skills if you’re not getting the attention you want right now. The readers will come. Heck, if you send me your story, I’ll read it! It’s not always immediate, but it will happen.
  11. Have fun, homie. If it’s not fun, don’t do it. Write what you want. Write things that make you laugh, write things that make you cry. Put yourself into your story, and it will shine through. Your triumphs, your failures, your flaws, your achievements, your sense of humor–the whole nine yards. And if you do that, you won’t have to worry about losing motivation, because you’re doing what you love.

I hope this answers your question, or at least helps a little. I tried my best to cover most of the basis and include things I’ve learned over the years, and I might reblog this at some point if I think of anything else. Don’t hesitate to ask if you ever need help with anything.

I send all of my love and encouragement your way, and I’m really proud of you for taking on a big writing project! Good luck!! <3

We’re Starting At The End [ch.3]

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Disclaimer: I don’t own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Heroes of Olympus, The Walking Dead, or anything else that you may recognize. The title is from Alone Together by Fall Out Boy.

A/N: Hey, sweethearts! Here’s chapter three. I know that last chapter was pretty sad, so I’m glad to go ahead and give you guys this one. We’re moving past the Percabeth portion of this story, but I will keep tagging it for further notice. I would love to talk to you guys about this story so please come by my ask box sometime!


He hasn’t slept in days. He doesn’t think that he’s eaten anything lately either, but he can’t really remember.

Everything has been blurry since the mall. He’s either crying or screaming—or both— and he’s been throwing up every time that he remembers her voice or smile.

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Sorry Not Sorry

au where cerberus pulls a winter soldier and Kai Leng is actually Kaidan that Shepard left on Virmire


“What the hell are you doing, Williams?”

“Making sure this bomb goes off, no matter what.”

All of Shepard’s being, everything she was, vibrated like a taut string. Pulled in two different directions and her head, her military instinct was telling her which way she had to go, what she had to do.

But she couldn’t face that decision. For the first time in her life, the decision was too much. Too much of her would be irreparably lost and yet… and yet she knew the choice she would make. The choice she would have to make.

“It’s alright, Shepard,” Alenko - no, Kaidan - said. “It’s alright.”

Shepard’s throat constricted. Both of them knew the score. This was their goodbye. Years of what could have been flashing in their minds.


It was all he said. Just her name, but it was enough.

“Kaidan,” she answered, not sure if she should be proud of how sturdy she sounded.

“See you on the other side,” he said.

She bit her lip one last time, savoring the sound of him simply existing on the other end, before she made the call. “Williams…”

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Let Your Memory Lead You

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa, Shingeki no Kyojin

Setting: In the training years

Words: 2158

Rating: K

Notes: Sentinel07 asked for a prompt where Eren catches Mikasa doing embroidery and realizes he doesn’t know much about her past before they met. I thought it was really cute cause let’s face it as close as they are Mikasa probably never talked about her parents at first. Eren would have no idea who they are or even their names and I like it because despite that they are still very close. Once Eren lost his mom and everything with his dad, no one probably understood better than Mikasa. Title is from “Memory” from the musical Cats. 


There weren’t many places to hide on the training base, just the barracks and a few rooms in the main hall. Granted, they didn’t get that much time off to begin with but Eren found himself wandering around the base on one of those days. He decided to leave the boy’s barracks since Armin wanted to read and the silence was going to put Eren to sleep which wasn’t how he wanted to spend his limited time to do what he wanted. The mess hall was the opposite; it was too loud since most everyone congregated in there and Connie and Sasha were doing imitations of everyone. Eren normally wouldn’t have minded the laughter or maybe to go sit with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie who were always a bit quieter but nothing just seemed to appeal to him.

He decided to just walk alone, heading down one of the halls that led to God knows where. If anyone said anything to him he’d just say he got lost and turn around so he didn’t quite see the harm. Besides, there was one person he didn’t see in the mess hall, and the fact the black haired girl hadn’t found him yet unnerved him a bit. Eren supposed he should be happy, its free time and he didn’t have anyone trailing him around but at the same time her lack of presence made him worry. He’d rather just find Mikasa and know nothing had happened to her then worry about it all night.

Eren had already tried to check the girl’s barracks as best he could without someone yelling at him but there were no lights on and no voices so he assumed she wasn’t in there unless she was asleep. He was tempted to peek in just to make sure but he didn’t quite want to risk Shadis biting his head off and making him do laps all night.

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