i need to resurface

Chaotic Connections: A Void  Stiles Imagine

So this is a little thing I started writing with void Stiles, because who doesn’t want a void Stiles? I might write a part two, but I wanna see if you guys would want one before I post it, as I’m hoping you will. Anyway, enjoy x

“I’ve been waiting for you.“ 

His voice sent shivers down your spine. 

Don’t let him get to you. Confident remember? You’re not scared of him. You’re not scared of anything. 

"What do you want me to do? Thank you for getting me out of Eichen House?" 

You watched as his lips turned up at the corners, those dark eyes glinting with mischief. 

"How’d you know it was me?" 

"Well, who else kills about ten guards, innocent guards might I add, to let someone like me escape?" 

He took a step towards you. 

Do not step back. For the love of God, do not step back. 


You stood your ground, knowing he was waiting for you to slip up. Waiting for you to run. Waiting for you to crack. 

"Why? Why’d you do it?" 

He took another step forward. You felt your heart rate quicken, knowing he did too. You two had a connection, something you couldn’t quite explain. 

It was nothing to do with the host he had chosen. Stiles was just a boy. You’d seen him around Eichen House, sensed something in him, followed him to the basement, watched as he gave himself up for some girl. 

Ugh, love. A perfect waste of time. And just look where it had gotten Stiles. Possessed by him. You could hear him screaming to get out. And part of you enjoyed it. 

You shivered involuntarily as the nogitsune took hold of your wrist, tracing the unusual birthmark you had. The one that had alerted you to the presence of supernatural creatures in the first place. 

Self. That was what he’d told you it meant the day you’d first met. He’d laughed at the pure irony of it. Of course back then, there was a different host. You preferred the one he currently had. 

You weren’t going to lie. Stiles was an attractive teenage boy.

"I need your help." 

Your eyes locked with each other’s as he pulled you to him. 

"With what?" 

By now, your noses were brushing against each other, his lips hovering over yours.

"I need you to help me win." 

You felt yourself grin. 


He needed you

You decided to play with him. After all, he liked his games. He especially liked playing them with you. 

"Why? Are you actually losing for once?" 

He snarled, a sound that should have terrified you, knowing he could kill you in a instant. Instead, it sent shockwaves through your body, making him smile. 

"I just need a little bit more strife. A little more pain. A little more chaos. Something I know you are very good at." 

You raised an eyebrow at him. It was true, you specialised in those things. It was why they sent you to Eichen House in the first place. 

You still remembered everything you’d done. The heat of the flames. The blood coating your hands. The screams of the people you’d slaughtered. 

"What’s in it for me?" 

"It’s unwise to question me sweetheart. Sure you don’t want to end up dead?" 

"You won’t kill me. You need me." 

He chuckled. 

"You’re right. I do need you. You help me win, and I’ll make sure no-one looks for you when they realise you’re missing. And people are going to come looking. After all, you did murder a lot of people. Good job with that by the way." 

You smiled at him. You shouldn’t have felt a sense of pride, you shouldn’t have felt good about the fact that he appreciated you. But you did. And that couldn’t be helped. 


"So, do we have a deal?" 

You nodded slowly, watching as his eyes flickered to your lips. 


In one quick movement, his lips had captured yours, his hands sliding up your arms to your neck, squeezing slightly when he reached your throat. 

You gasped for breath, him taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, quickly taking dominance as he always did. Your hands moved under his, under Stiles’, t-shirt, feeling the ice-cold skin that you craved against yours. 


Damn, stupid fox-spirits. 

He removed his lips from yours, and latched his teeth onto your neck, the sensation enough  to send you into overdrive. 

And then he stopped. 

He grabbed you by your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes. 

"Y/N, go." 


"There are people coming. Go." 

"But I thought you needed me." 

He smirked, resurfacing unresolved feelings. 

"I do. But we’re going to keep you a secret for now." 

You understood. 

"Just another trick right?" 

"Exactly. Now go." 

You ran, hiding as you watched a man walk into the loft. 

The sheriff. 

The nogitsune smirked at you, before he faced the sheriff. He was the performer and you were his audience. 

You watched as he pretended to be Stiles, broke the handcuffs the sheriff used on him. 

You watched as he tackled a werewolf to the ground, slamming him against a wall. 

You watched as he stretched the brunette's taser, rendering it useless.


Stupid, idiotic do-gooders. They were all going to die. 

Then the other man there pointed a gun at his head. The sheriff yelling at Argent, the nogitsune tricking them all. 




You smiled at the thought of him winning. 

And then the Oni showed. 


Holy shit. 

But your worry didn’t last for long. Before you knew it, he had appeared beside you. 

"Good show?”

“They’re going to die." 

"Well, that is the plan. Tell me, do you approve?" 

You turned to face him, using your fingers to draw patterns on his chest. 

"Very much so." 

He began to walk away. 

"Are you coming with me or not?" 

"I guess so,” you began to follow him. 

“Good. We have business to discuss." 

You walked in silence, before you piped up. 

"Why are there handcuffs in your pocket?" 

"Well, the sheriff has loads. He won’t miss one pair." 

"So why do you have them?" 

You heard him chuckle. 


That damn chuckle. 

"Oh, I’m going to use them later." 

"On what?”

He faced you. 

“On you." 

anonymous asked:

I miss Ryan 😢 I need him to resurface and do something cute so I can die from his adorableness. Do you have any cute pics you can post of him as I know you've met him a few times x

this is a personal fave of mine

Have You Been In Love?

Summary: The worse break-up you have went through resurfaces a bit as you have your first solo interview.
Members: Mention of Jongdae but focused on Reader
Type: Angst
Length: 1,426 Words

So I know this is pretty different from what I normally write; an angst without a happy ending, but please don’t be too brutal about this scenario. This is based off of personal experience and it kind of has resurfaced, so I just needed to write it down.

-Admin Kat

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

Lights, Camera, Action

The lights almost blinded you as they came up on the stage. You were both excited and nervous for your first interview since you started you sub-solo career. You had loved the second you joined the group. You loved your group, it had nothing to do with that. You were just finally excited to get your personal music out there to the world. You had been worried, knowing that some fans didn’t see it that way and had been questioning your motives since the news came out.

Keep reading

edit: also on ao3

     Call is the first to pull away.

     It’s not like he didn’t particularly like Aaron’s kiss, because it was amazing, had felt like sparks skittering across his lips and surging to his heart.

     But, well.

     Being renderred weak in the knees from a stupidly good kiss is embarassing enough with people around, but they’re also in the middle of a fight.

      Screeching beyond the two of them, the fire elemental flaps its wings, but instead of whipping up a gale it produces a gust of fire that would have incinerated Tamara and Jasper if they hadn’t ducked behind a boulder.

     “Hey, when you two’re finished obssessing over each other, maybe you can lend a hand!” Jasper screams at them, sweaty and rugged, hurtling a flurry of rocks to the firebird from his crouched position.

     A phoenix, Tamara had said.

     “I actually have to agree with him on this one!” she says now. “Get your butts in here and help us! You’ll have plenty more time together if we actually survive.”

     “We better! Life over boyfriends, losers!” Jasper adds, shooting them a quick glare before rolling to another boulder and sending a cloud of small rocks upward, pushing back the fire elemental farther into the sky a bit. Call glares at him. Feels his cheeks flare.

    All Tamara gives them is a tiny smirk before she whips up a mini tornado that disgruntles the phoenix.

     Call’s cheeks are on fire. “Come on,” he says seriously, determined to taper down the sparks where Aaron’s lips have been. “We got to help them.” He avoids eye contact, as it would surely go up against the no-blushing philosophy he’d adopted seconds ago.

       “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Aaron stands from where he’s crouched over Call, hands falling away from his good leg that has been burnt to the tissue by the phoenix’s fire. Aaron’s earth-binding skills are good and efficient. Naturally. Call barely feels a thing except for the open-ended nerves on his lips and the ba-thump of his heart as Aaron helps him up.

     He doesn’t even know how the kiss happened, just that it did. One moment Aaron was hovering over the disgusting patch of singed tissue on Call’s leg, Call having to screw his eyes shut from the pain, and the next there were lips on him. Aaron’slips.

    And, oh - there’s the swoop in his stomach again.

     Call shakes his head, and he and Aaron split up to either side of the phoenix just as Havoc bounds to the scene with a bottle of water pinned between his maw.

     He pointedly avoids Aaron the rest of the day.


     It infuriates Call, if he’s being honest, that Aaron is avoiding him, too.

     Because Call is afraid of a lot of things - the truth, spiders, eyeless fish, the ocean, confrontation. Aaron knows the last one comes with dread that always feels like ice in his heart. Aaron knows. So why does Call have to be the one to confront him about the incident when he’s the one who kissed his bestfriend? (A good kiss, but Call has only been kissed twice, so what does he know, really? Besides - not the point.)

     It has been days since their last actual interaction - and that was when they’d fought the fire elemental. Since then, Aaron has been evading Call’s company, reducing their friendship to half-hearted smiles and awkward silences.

     Call doesn’t hate Aaron, couldn’t for the life of him. He’s just mad that he’d kiss him and then hide away.

     Although, Call supposes he deserves part of the blame, too. Half of it. Because for all intents and purposes, he’s a coward, and he shouldn’t expect Aaron to always be the one mending stuff.

     “Talk to him,” Tamara says over the fire after Aaron leaves with Jasper and Havoc to gather more wood. They’re days and days away from actually finding a lead on who’s smuggling all these foreign elementals into the US, which has been disrupting the ecosystem in a chain reaction. “You two need to fix this rift between you before it gets worse. No offense, but you’re slowing our mission down. And it’s painful to watch. Just get on with it.”
     “He kissed me,” Call says, frustrated. “How do we just get on with that?”

     “Talk,” Tamara insists. “Use your words. You’re best friends; it shouldn’t be that hard. You talk to a lizard all the time.”

     “Warren didn’t kiss me. And I don’t talk to him - he speaks crazy stuff and I just listen, most of the time.”

     Tamara ignores him. “Besides, communication does wonders to a relationship.” She smirks, then giggles at Call’s reaction.

     “Shut up,” Call says, flushing darkly in the firelight. It’s just the heat, okay.

      “Did you like it?”

     “Shut uuup.” Call pulls the hoodie over his head and drags it until it completely covers his cheeks.

     “Did you?” Tamara repeats, relentless. “Did you like his kiss, Call? Better than Celia’s?”

     Call shrivels beneath her teasing, receding further into his hoodie, feeling something warm and light tug at his heartstrings. She’s vicious.

     “You did!” Tamara giggles. “It’s cute!”

     Can she quiet down a bit? Anybody within a five-mile radius would have heard her by now. This needs to stop. Call groans, resurfacing. “So I did. What’s the problem? He kissed me.”

    Tamara’s giggles deflate into a contented, somewhat exasperated sigh. “Exactly, Call. He kissed you. You liked it. What is the problem?” She rolls her eyes, smile going small and sated, eyes softening. Dark skin hang beneath them. “You avoided him first. Talk to him.”

     “What if he doesn’t want to talk?”

     “Like he could resist you,” she scoffs. Gives him a look. Her smile flattens, the flames casting an orange glint in her eyes and the tinders crackling between them. “Just promise me you two won’t ditch me for dates all the time.”

     Her lips curl, but Call knows she’s serious. They’re still her best friends, and she theirs, and honestly, Call doesn’t see himself passing up the chance to sneak around or out of the Magisterium with the two of them over two-person dates. Mostly. They’re best friends, first and foremost.

     Still, the thought doesn’t stop himself from bruising out a deeper blush as he says, “Yeah. Promise.”

    Tamara’s eyes soften and she smiles. Then her face twists into mischief again. “How did it feel?”

     “Shut up.”


     With the torrential amount of luck they’d been having, Call shouldn’t be surprised that they would be chased by a hellhound through the woods when he actually gathers enough courage to talk to Aaron.

     Of course. A hellhound. Go figure.

     “Come on,” Aaron urges, tugging at his hand.

     “I’m trying.” Call grits his teeth when his foot snags on a root and a hot burst of pain shoots up his leg. He stumbles, but Aaron catches him and brings him to his feet.

     They keep running. The hellhound is large, possibly larger even than Havoc, and its paws pound into the ground like metals - which is, well, not much of a comparison, since their claws are metal.

     Call hadn’t been prepared for this when he slipped out of their mini-cave (carved and shaped by earth magic, facing the lake, floor cushioned by layers of leaves) and sneaked behind Aaron into the woods. He was distractedly distorting a cloud of chaos in thin air and Call was just about to tap his shoulder - or startle him, maybe, the worst way possible, just to watch Aaron fluster - when the earth elemental emerged from the shadows, growling and snarling and tongue licking over silver teeth.

     The chase began shortly after.

     They couldn’t run to the mini-cave, because it would catch Tamara and Jasper off-guard especially considering this is the first night in almost a week that they can sleep peacefully. So they run deeper into the craddle of the woods, leading the hellhound away from their friends. Panting. Dried leaves and twigs crunching beneath their feet.

     Call wracks his brain for any knowledge of the hellhound; it doesn’t come smoothly, or all at once, but it comes. Tamara made them read all about elementals day and night so they could all grasp what they might face for this mission.

     The hellhound is exclusively European, found deep in Scandinavian forests. A metal elemental. Could chew through rocks and most metals like a scissor could cut through paper. Teeth and claws that change with age, from bronze to silver to gold. Fiercely territorial. Highly reactive. Vicious. Mages are to get out of their way as much as chances allow.

     But what did the books say about the procedures when a hellhound actually goes plowing through the forest, bent on killing two 15-year-olds? Nothing.

     “What were you even doing outside?” Call snaps at Aaron, whose hands have gone slippery and clammy in his. He doesn’t mind much.

     “I was thinking! I couldn’t think with you in there,” Aaron says.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     “It means, Call,” Aaron pants. “That I can’t think straight when the person I’m trying to think straight about is in the same room with me.” He’s breathless from running and he sounds a little frustrated. “What were you doing?”

     They stop just at the edge of a small ravine with a stream running down the middle. Call can hear the water humming against rocks and boulders. Between Call’s leg and the steepness of the ravine’s face, they both know they would never get out of it if they fell. At least not quickly. They’d have to find a way around, which might take the whole night.

     And that’s if the hellhound doesn’t kill them before then.

     Call turns to face Aaron. “I was going to talk to you,” he says, panting. “Because you wouldn’t talk to me.”

      Aaron looks at him guiltily, then. His face is flushed, sweaty, but the moon makes him look like a dream. Or the incarnation of one. His gold hair - almost pearly white in the moonlight - is a mess. Lips open, puffs of breath coming through them. Eyes soft and apologetic.

     It’s unfair.

     “I’m sorry,” Aaron says. “Call, it’s not … I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

     “Why did you do it?” Call asks, cutting to the point, because he can hear the tremulous pounds of paws on the ground reaching them, and he has to know now.

     “You were in pain,” Aaron explains. “I couldn’t stand it. I had to help, do something.”

     Call had a glimpse of it, the panic and fear in Aaron’s eyes when he saw the burnt muscle tissues and sinews on his leg, before he’d closed his own and grit his teeth. It was a flashbomb of pain, licking all over his skin, prickling in his bones, coiling in his muscles.

     He could imagine the look he must have had.

     The pain became static when Aaron moved his lips against his, like background noise, like something that didn’t matter as much as the feeling unfurling in his gut right then.

     And then.

     And then Aaron didn’t talk to him for days.

     “So you kissed me?” Call says, frowning, something creeping up his voice. Confusion, maybe. Hurt. Probably. Nothing makes any sense. “I was in pain so you kissed me.”

     Aaron’s eyes widen, and he scrambles to collect his words. “Not because of that, Call! I mean. I mean, yeah, you were in pain, and it was a definite factor, but. But not just -” A pause, a steadying breath. “Not just because of that.”

     The hellhound reaches them with its nostrils flaring. It stops just a few meters from them and lets out a rabid, booming bark, moonlight catching on its silver teeth. Its pupils are menacing black beads in a pool of white. Black fur with red-brown streaks rippling in the wind.

     Call’s mind, whirring with a constant thought of  Aaron and kiss!, grasps onto the urgent situation enough to focus. “It’s a metal elemental,” he says.

     Aaron braces himself, left shoulder jabbing forward, hands raised to his chest and prepared to wield whatever element the situation demands. “Yeah. So fire magic?”

     “That’s the idea.” Call feels his lips twitch, despite the circumstances. Here they are, best friends, fighting off a hellhound in the dead of night right at the edge of a short cliff. Typical. Familiar.

     Aaron catches his look and smiles. The hellhound charges, teeth snapping wildly.


     It’s unsurprisingly tiring, but freaking fantastic, to push the elemental over the edge with a strong blast of fire magic and watch it disintigrate into dust and silver teeth on its way down. With, of course, the help of Havoc, who’d barelled into the scene all fangs and chaos-ridden fury.

     They sit at the edge, now, cross-legged and their sweat licked cool and dry by the night’s wind. Havoc pants between them on his stomach with his tongue out.

     It feels ridiculously nice and comfortable, the silence and the cool air.

     “I meant it,” Aaron says, “that I didn’t kiss you just because you were in pain.” His words are soft and gentle and feel as if they belong to this air, to this night. Not a letter out of place.

     Call runs his palm up and down Havoc’s spine, stopping at his scruff on the way up to massage the muscles there with his fingers. “So why did you do it? And then ignored me. It felt like you were trying to make things as awkward as possible.” There’s a hint of accusation at his words - because it’s true. Aaron went out of his way to avoid Call.

     Aaron shakes his head vehemently. “I wasn’t! I was… I mean. I was avoiding you. But I swear I didn’t mean to make you awkward.”

     “That’s stupid. Avoiding your best friend after you kiss him doesn’t make things not awkward for him,” he bites out.

     “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”


     Aaron looks at him incredulously. “With that thing with the phoenix! You ignored me the whole time.”

     “There were people. Tamara was there. And Jasper. And we were on a fight,” Call says defensively. “And I had to sort things out first.”

     “What things?”

     Call glares at Aaron, who looks dubious and genuinely confused. Does he actually want him to say it?

     “What things, Call?” Aaron asks after a beat.

     Apparently so. “My feelings,” he grinds out, feeling heat lick up his cheeks again. His heart picks up a faster rhythm that makes his blood thrum beneath his skin.

     Aaron’s lips crack a smile. “Your … feelings?”

     “Yes,” Call harrumphs. “Happy?” Havoc barks, twice, at something in the distance. Or maybe he thought Call’s question was directed at him. Which is ridiculous, but plausible. Havoc is smart. Call scratches at the soft skin under his muzzle where head meets body.

     Aaron grins at him, elegant in the moonlight. “I have my feelings sorted, Call. I’m positive that I like you.” Call’s heart jumps at that, the traitor. “Do you have yours sorted now?”

     Call thinks about it. He knows he liked the kiss, knows his heart is inclined to doing all sorts of somersaults at the prospect of it, that he wouldn’t mind holding Aaron’s hands clammy or otherwise - but it’s impossible to know completely. Nothing is ever black and white with his feelings, so he says, “I don’t know.”

     “Did you like the kiss?”

     Call bristles, but he lets out a breath and says, “Yeah. It was … okay.” His stomach twists - not an entitely unpleasant feeling. Saying it out loud, in front of Aaron … it feels like baring himself.

     Aaron’s eyes have silver specs in them, thanks to the moon. He looks amused, but happy. Ridiculously happy. “It was okay? So you wouldn’t mind if I tried again? Just to see if I can improve?”

     Call stares at him. “Are you asking me to be your kiss dummy?”

     Aaron flushes. “No! No, no. Of course not. I … No. I mean, I don’t ever think about kissing anyone but you.”

     Call instinctively stares at Aaron’s lips. “No. I wouldn’t mind. Not really.”

     “Not really?” Aaron raises both eyebrows in question - he can never raise them individually.

     “You want to try again or not?”

     Aaron’s lips fit his perfectly. They’re rough, and not as full as a girl’s probably, but it feels right. Feels good, good, good. A hand brushes at his cheek. Pushes through his hair, lands at the back of his neck, a thumb by his ear.  It feels like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together.

     They pull apart when Havoc barks, licks at Call’s chin and pushes him onto his back, barking. Licks all over his face. He must have felt left out.

     Call laughs and reaches out to rub all over his hackles. When Aaron joins in and pets Havoc’s head, the wolf pushes back and bites playfully at his hand until he abandons Call completely to make a salivated mess of Aaron’s hair and face.

     Call sits up and looks at them, something unfurling in his chest. It should be terrifying, watching a wolf maul your best friend and potential boyfriend over, but it’s good. He’s here. He’s home.

This one was beta’d by @magisteriumm. Thank you bucket loads Haze!!!!!

“Can you write a minty fic where -Monty works at a college library and has to wake up miller to tell him that the library is closing?”

“Could you write ‘I saw you studying for finals in the library and thought you might like some coffee au’ for Minty. I think it’d be adorable:)”

Both of these prompts are wonderful, and they were pretty similar so I put them together in one fic. 

The words in Miller’s textbook started to blur. His eyelids felt weighed down, maybe if he could rest his eyes for bit…

“No. Focus,” Miller ordered himself. There was t-minus nine hours until his calculus midterm, and he’d spent the past two starring blankly at the formulas in his textbook. 

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This Kiss

Robin tells Regina about Zelena’s attempt at glamouring herself to look like her

*this is a conversation that I feel they could have taken 2 minutes to give us*

“When Hook inadvertently allowed her to escape,” he explained softly, keeping her close to his chest though she struggled for a moment more, no doubt wanting to tear herself out of bed and effectively break the serenity of a morning in which all three of their kids had remained miraculously asleep. “She played quite the convincing role,” he continued when she settled once more with a huff of frustration, her palm warm atop his chest as a finger swirled between the hairs there. 

“She’s had enough practice,” she supplied and though it still stung to know that after everything (and if only for the sake of Roland, Robin had been building up to telling ‘Marian’ that things between them should remain platonic), it had all been a lie, he’s been able to make peace with it now and the knowledge that Marian can rest, kept alive only in his memories now. 

He hummed his agreement, the sound no doubt rumbling against Regina’s cheek and he couldn’t help smiling when she nuzzled down into him all the more, rubbing her smooth skin against his chest. He almost didn’t hear her follow-up question though, so quiet it was almost whispered. 

“How did you know?” and when he turned his head enough to find her looking up at him with soft eyes, curious and fearful all the same and he knew her worry. He hadn’t been able to tell that it wasn’t Marian for the entirety of Zelena’s deception and that still hurt, almost felt like a betrayal of her memory but with Regina…

“As soon as I kissed you…well, her” he stroked a hand through her silken locks, cupping her cheek, “it was only for a second,” he comforted though she didn’t ask, “but I knew instantly” he stroked his thumb across her soft bottom lip, eyes trained on her mouth, “that those were not your lips.” 

She stared at him for a long moment, the lips in question parting just slightly beneath his touch, a wave of hot breath washing over his hand. 

He smiled down at her, leaning up onto one elbow better to see and touch her. “You have intoxicated me from the very beginning Regina and I find myself quite obsessed with you.” His eyes traced over her face, every single feature as his head tilted in his study. “I could fall into your eyes and never feel the need to resurface,” his thumb swiped softly across the skin beneath one of her eyes, noticing the way she too was looking over his face, “your crinkled brow that has struck fear in the hearts of others in your past but I just find completely adorable,” and when she frowned at his use of the word he chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, telling her “just like that.” 

“Your wonderfully sensitive neck and jaw,” she practically purred when he moved to dot tender kisses there, his hand holding her to him on the other side of her neck as she proved his point, almost whining when he pulled back to look down at her mouth “and these lips,” he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to them, enjoying the way she lifted her head and shoulders from the bed to keep him there with her for a little longer before falling back down to her pillow with a beautifully tender smile, her hands still on his neck, “have been on my mind from the very first moment I saw you smile.” 

He ducked his head once more to nudge his nose against hers, teasing in a way that she always responded to with a soft laugh and a nudge of her own. He didn’t let her kiss him again just yet though. 

She pouted at him when he straightened once more, an adorably petulant little thing that had a rush of affection flooding him before his expression was growing serious and he was telling her “another may wear your beautiful face my love,” he rested on his forearms, one either side of her head as he hovered above her, grateful for the space she’d created between her legs for him to rest within as he stroked a palm across her cheek and moved up to brush back hair from her face as he continued “but your kiss could never be replicated,” his eyes fell to her mouth once more, “of that I am infinitely sure.” 

The first boy I fell in love with was orange. Like the spark of a flame, the colorful explosion of a firework, the crisp shade of autumn. He painted me with radiance of early sunrise and left with the last rays of sunset warming my skin.

The second was blue, like the seashore in the morning. I thought he was clear, transparent. Predictable. I fell in love with the gentle waves of his laughter and submerged myself into deep, deep navy, forgetting for a moment that I needed air to live. I resurfaced just as cerulean became murky black, gasping, with water in my lungs and my lips blue with the chill.

The third one was grey. Like a quiet rainfall during the night. He faded fast, but I tilted my face up to the steady downpour, basking underneath his attention for as long as I could.

And then I fell in love with you, and I thought you were yellow at first, like the sun. Your smile was bright, the twinkle in your eyes brighter, and my breath was gone. Later, I changed my mind and called you black, like the night sky full of constellations, galaxies forming at the sound of your laughter. Goodness knows I spent too many wishes on stars about you. 

I realized too late that you were red, like blood spilling between my fingers, like crimson smeared on my lips, like my heart served on a silver platter before you. Loving you gutted me alive, and red was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

—  Loving in colors

Brienne fell in love with Jaime.

Not the expert swordsman. Not the golden knight. Not the Lannister. Not the arrogant prick he pretends to be. She fell in love with the selfless man who is willing to sacrifice his life for the people he loves. The broken man with one hand. The dirty bearded man who tries to make her understand that he wanted to save the city.

And Jaime. He doesn’t love a tall woman with buck teeth and a wide jaw who lacks social skills. He loves a hero with beautiful blue eyes that stands for forgiveness and goodness. That was willing to go to the ends of the Earth to save 2 girls to honor their mother.

THIS is why I fucking love them.

  • What I say: I'm fine
  • What I mean: Hook and Emma are riding a horse together and honestly this is all I have ever wanted in my Oncer life and my level of ecstasy and elation is comparative of flying to the moon and doing loop-de-loops around it. The new outfits are breathtaking but I have to call into question the reasoning behind it. We know from past experience that 99% of every choice ever made in OUAT is extremely deliberate and so if Emma's supposed to be dark, and Hook's adopted a modern air, why these clothes? We already know that Camelot is in the EF thanks to Jen and her terrible ability to keep secrets (the cinnamon roll), and so it makes sense why Hook would don more appropriate fairytale attire. However, the fact that Emma is wearing such illuminant, flowing attire without so much as a hint of anything but radiant light, is much harder to reconcile. Not to mention the outfit is supposedly worn in 5x04 which really doesn't give much time to explore the Dark Swan arch, so one would assume she's still dark at this point but then why the choice of wardrobe? Additionally, the 5x04 episode could potentially parallel the 4x04 episode which was the episode of the glorious CS Date BUT let us not forget that is also the episode that has Hook wrestling with his past and his own darkness that threatens to resurface. All that to say, I really need to find out why Killian was giving her the rose after which she proceeded to kISS HIM in one of the sweetest embraces we've seen and between the his black and her white and them being back in the Enchanted Forest, I KNOW it's way far fetched and logically too soon and a dream within a distant dream but I'm sorry because I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF WEDDING BELLS CHIMING
Dear August,

Your arrival was quite harsh and unkind. I did not expect to be pricked by your thorns so quickly - neither did I expect any thorns in the first place. But you’re here now. You’ve already stumbled into my home with all your brash and ferocity. It’s now up to me on what to do with you. How to handle you in your dark hours. How to find the light. Maybe I’ve been too soft. Too quiet. Too meek. I don’t have much to say to you just yet, dear August. I’m still treading through the mess slowly and carefully. I’m untangling pieces and trying to figure out where to place them. I’m looking for my courage and strength. I’m trying to be less soft. Less quiet. Less meek. All your claws and bite woke me up and injured me quite badly. But these wounds, these marks of hurt, will be my proof that the world can be a bitter and terrible place. Yet there will always be light and tenderness. I just need to focus on those. I need to resurface and stretch my arms toward those that give me warmth.