more like man of my dreams

anonymous asked:

I'm in my 20s and I feel like I'm way too old to realize that I'm trans. I've more or less got a job lined up for when I graduate college in a year but everyone there knows me as a girl. Idk man, I just feel like I have to choose between my dream job and who I really am and I'm really stressed about it.

I would say choose who you really are. Maybe come out and just go through the process at your job, even though it’s hard

How happy can you be if you’re pretending to be someone you’re not?

If it’s safe for you, I would come out. Better to do it now so they have more time to “get used” to it

-Avin 👽

Hexed

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary:  Reader and Dean are…you guessed it…hexed.  Is it a sexual curse or something more?

Word Count:  2111

Warnings:  Lots of language, lots of smut (rough-ish smut)

As always, feedback is appreciated.  Tags are at the bottom.

Originally posted by holy-fucking-damn-shit

Hexed 

There is a time and place for everything, this is neither the time nor the place. Not for Dean to be looking at me like that, no sir. Had I always hoped he’d fix those ethereal green eyes on me that way? My mama didn’t raise a liar, so I’m not going to lie to you. Yeah, I want that man to fix those eyes on me just like that. Wanted him to for a long time now. There’s a lot of things I want from Dean Winchester.  That man is a walking wet dream, sex on bow-legs.

Things is, he’s not supposed to be looking at me like that. Sure as hell not right this very minute.  It’s not part of the plan. We’re working a fucking case for god’s sake. I’m not talking about research or footwork, interviewing and investigating. We are legitimately standing in this room right the fuck now and a motherfucking witch was just here with us. There is a blade in my hand and a gun in his. We had a job to do, one goddamn job.

Now that bitch of a witch is gone. Poof, vanished, adios amigos, just fucking gone. She mumbled some shifty spell work and now Dean fucking Winchester is looking like he wants to screw my brains out.

I’m looking right back at him and I got the same look in my eye.  

I don’t know what that piece of shit did to us, but my breasts are heavy, achy. My nipples are straining against the fabric of my bra and if somebody doesn’t touch them right this very instant and relieve that pressure, I’m going to scream. Or come. I don’t know which.  

There’s a burning in between my thighs, I’m squeezing them together hoping to ease some of the pressure but it’s only making it worse. Times infinity. My skin is all heat and fire, I’m consumed by need and lust.

Dean is a mirror, his eyes reflect back at me the same fever I’m feeling. I can see his cock - Jesus fucking Christ - swelling and straining against those blue denim jeans. In three short steps his crossed the room, a strangled sound leaving his lips before his lips press to mine. Our weapons clatter to the ground making one hell of a racket, but I give no fucks.

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COWBOY BEBOP SENTENCE STARTERS.

  • ❝ …Bang… ❞
  • ❝ This could be a trap. ❞
  • ❝ This is strictly business. ❞
  • ❝ Whatever happens, happens. ❞
  • ❝ Life is but a dream. ❞
  • ❝ You’re in a good mood today. ❞
  • ❝ Tell me what you’re doing here. ❞
  • ❝ Don’t try anything. ❞
  • ❝ Why don’t you shoot? ❞
  • ❝ Go on, pull the trigger. ❞
  • ❝ What’s wrong? Lose your nerve? ❞
  • ❝ You’re an original, aren’t you? ❞
  • ❝ Could you be a little quieter please? ❞
  • ❝ Great, a wannabe preacher with a gun… ❞
  • ❝ Guess you’ll have to chalk it up to bad luck. ❞
  • ❝ You’re gonna carry that weight. ❞
  • ❝ The one that’s insane is this world. ❞
  • ❝ Hey there, having a little trouble? ❞
  • ❝ Are you living in the real world? ❞ 
  • ❝ Even if you play by the rules, nothing gets solved. ❞
  • ❝ The more you know, the shorter your life will be. ❞
  • ❝ I’m just a humble bounty hunter, ma’am/sir. ❞
  • ❝ Pretending to be senile won’t get you out of this. ❞
  • ❝ I’m just watching a bad dream I never wake up from. ❞
  • ❝ Are you pleading for your life? ❞
  • ❝ You should see yourself right now. ❞
  • ❝ Do you have any idea what you look like? A ravenous beast. ❞
  • ❝ The same blood runs through both of us. ❞
  • ❝ I’ve bleed all that kind of blood away. ❞
  • ❝ Why are you still alive? ❞
  • ❝ Don’t give me that art of war crap. ❞
  • ❝ Time never stands still. ❞  
  • ❝ If you don’t work, you don’t eat. ❞
  • ❝ These Earthlings are weird. ❞ 
  • ❝ I’ll take care of this, you can go back. ❞
  • ❝ I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass. ❞
  • ❝ A star just fell from the sky. ❞
  • ❝ Cold climates don’t concern me. ❞
  • ❝ Your heart is colder than any planet. ❞
  • ❝ Remember, a snake cannot eat a dragon. ❞
  • ❝ We should’ve never taken such a risk. ❞
  • ❝ I’m fully aware of the danger. ❞
  • ❝ How long were you in there listening, [ name ]? ❞ 
  • ❝ And this time, I hope you have sweet dreams. ❞
  • ❝ I’ll meet you at the end of this world. ❞
  • ❝ Belonging is the very best thing there is. ❞
  • ❝ There is nothing more innocent and cruel than a child.❞
  • ❝ Man shouldn’t have to live on carbohydrates alone, complex or otherwise. ❞
  • ❝ I have no fear of death. It just means dreaming in silence. A dream that lasts for an eternity. ❞
  • ❝ Of the days that I have lived, only those I spent with you seemed real. ❞
  • ❝ My memory…finally came back…but nothing good came from it. ❞
  • ❝ There was no place for me to return to; this was the only place I could go. ❞
  • ❝ Why do you have to go? Where are you going?! ❞
  • ❝ What are you going to do, throw away your life like it was nothing?! ❞
  • ❝ What’s your price to keep this from leaking to the press? ❞
  • ❝ Either you give me the money or I put a bullet through your brain. ❞    
  • ❝ I’m not the type to be led around by a woman/man. ❞
  • ❝ You can’t tell the age of a woman by looking at her. ❞
  • ❝ You’re kidding yourself if you think every woman/man is like you. They’re not.❞
  • ❝ Why did you do all of this? For money? Some sort of revenge? Or perhaps just for fun?❞
  • ❝ Come on, hang in there, you hear me? ❞ 
  • ❝ When angels are forced out of heaven, they become devils. ❞
  • ❝ Tell me, if we had met earlier in life, would we have been friends? ❞
  • ❝ You know the first rule of combat? Shoot them before they shoot you. ❞
  • ❝ I’m not a criminal. Woah, that makes me sound more like a criminal, doesn’t it. ❞
  • ❝ You took all the money you stole from us and lost it in a gambling casino? ❞
  • ❝ This is real mystic and all, but uh, do you have anything to eat here? ❞
  • ❝ You know what they say, cowboy, easy come easy go. ❞ 
  • ❝ You told me once, to forget the past, cause it doesn’t matter, but you’re the one still tied to the past, [ name ]!  ❞
  • ❝ Don’t tell me things like that; you’ve never told me anything about yourself, so don’t tell me now! ❞
  • ❝ I felt like I was watching a dream I’d never wake up from. Before I knew it, the dream was all over. ❞
  • ❝ Do not fear death. Death is always at our side. When we show fear, it jumps at us faster than light, but if we do not show fear, it casts its eye upon us gently and then guides us into infinity…  ❞
  • ❝ Men only think about their past right before death, as if they were searching frantically for proof they were alive. ❞
  • ❝ No one can draw a clear line between sane and insane. You move that line as you see fit for yourself. No one else can.  ❞
Ed Sheeran - ERASER (lyrics) Extended F64 Version

[Verse 1]
I was born inside a small town, I’ve lost that state of mind
Learned to sing inside the Lord’s house, but stopped at the age of nine
I forget when I get awards now the wave I had to ride
The paving stones I played upon, they kept me on the grind
So blame it on the pain that blessed me with the life
Friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride
And when the world’s against me is when I really come alive
And everyday that Satan tempts me, I try to take it in my stride
You know that I’ve got whisky with white lines and smoke in my lungs
I think life has got to the point I know without it’s no fun
I need to get in the right mind and clear myself up
Instead, I look in the mirror questioning what I’ve become
I guess it’s a stereotypical day for someone like me
Without a nine-to-five job or an uni degree
To be caught up in the trappings of the industry
They showed me the locked doors I find another use of key
And you’ll see

[Chorus 1]
I’m well aware of certain things that will destroy a man like me
But with that said give me one more, higher
Another one to take the sting away
I am happy on my own, so here I’ll stay
Save your lovin’ arms for a rainy day
And I’ll find comfort in my pain
Eraser

[Verse 2]
I used to think that nothing could be better than touring the world with my songs
I chased the pictured perfect life, I think they painted it wrong
I think that money is the root of evil and fame is hell
Relationships and hearts you fixed, they break as well
And ain’t nobody wanna see you down in the dumps
Because you’re living your dream, man, this shit should be fun
Please know that I’m not trying to preach like I’m Reverend Run
I beg you, don’t be disappointed with the man I’ve become
Our conversations with my father on the A14
Age twelve telling me I’ve gotta chase those dreams
Now I’m playing for the people, dad, and they know me
With my beat and small guitar wearing the same old jeans
Wembley Stadium crowd two hundred and forty thou
I may have grown up but I hope that Damien’s proud
And to the next generation, inspiration’s allowed
The world may be filled with hate but keep erasing it now
Somehow

[Chorus 2]
I’m well aware of certain things that will befall a man like me
But with that said give me one more, higher
Another one to take the sting away
I am not beyond my own, so here I’ll stay
Save your lovin arms for a rainy day
And I’ll find comfort in my pain
Eraser
And I’ll find comfort in my pain
Eraser
And I’ll find comfort in my pain
Eraser

[Verse 3]
I woke up this morning lookin’ in the mirror
Thinkin’ to myself that I should probably be thinner
The industry told me to look like them
But I found my happiness in fried food for my dinner
I wish that she could have been my first time
And I wish that I’d never took that first line
And I wish that every word in this verse rhymed
But forgive me if it doesn’t
I wish that I could make peace with my older cousin
I wish he didn’t think that it was me when it wasn’t
I wish I didn’t love it when I’m high and my face feels buzzin’
And the taste stays underneath my tongue
Wish that I had known what to do as a youngling
Wish I hadn’t dropped out of school and missed every single party
With that hardly matters now, man, does it?
Wish I had an answer to everything, but fuck it
I wish creatin’ art didn’t come with a budget
But while we’re on the subject
I wish my private life would have never gone public
But that’s the sacrifice that we make
Spendin’ my whole time high livin’ life away

[Chorus 3]
Singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here
Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear
Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care
I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish
I’m singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here
Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear
Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care
I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish

[Verse 4]
I wish my family and friends they stay healthy
I wish that love was a currency and the whole world was wealthy
I found myself late night wishin’ on a star
Everyday I wish I’d never broken a heart, uh
And I wish I’d never run to
Every woman that I loved that kept my life and what it’s come to
I wish I was the role model you looked up to
If I told my fans the things I did they’d say, “Fuck you”
I wish I was home more
I wish my teens could see the kids on the birthdays, but yo, we’re on tour
And I wish I’d grow more, wish I told more
People that I love ‘em but it’s in the music that I’m known for
And I wish he never got cancer
And if I smoke a pack a day, well, does that make me a wanker?
Oh yes, I guess it does, and we’re still stressin’ 'cause
Every day this shit gets the best of us
Usin’ my balance on eraser blades
Spendin’ my whole time high wishing life would wait

[Chorus 3]
Singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here
Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear
Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care
I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish
I’m singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here
Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear
Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care
I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish

[Verse 5]
I’m using jumpers for goalposts, cigarettes for throat cold
Mum sayin’, “Don’t smoke,” no, I don’t listen, I got
Love for a ghost note, shows on the gold coast
People that I don’t know share the same vision
I find truth in the hard times and words that aren’t mine
Tryin’ to find a love with a compatible star sign
Sometimes I can’t write, sentences can’t rhyme
Starin’ at my notepad quick, I’m tryin’ to find mine
Shit, quick before I hit it again
Surrounded in the industry by all these ignorant men
And who knew that I’d be paid just to pick up a pen
Just let me hit the studio when we can rip it again
I’m a competitive dick, with an adrenaline kick
My daddy told me work hard and you can never be shit
I’ve seen all my heroes dethroned except my dad
Set back here reminiscing 'bout the times we had
One wish


(x)

anonymous asked:

#42 isak and even ??

42) things you said when you asked me to marry you (this was requested by three people so i figured y’all really want this. it’s okay - i wanted it too.)

Isak’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he enters the kitchen to Even making breakfast. He’s gotten years to drink in this sight on both the good days and the bad days, but the revelation that Even’s here, for him, is still enough to knock the wind out of Isak. It’s been so long, but Isak will always be that insecure boy in the kitchen of his old apartment, wondering if he’d dreamt up a world where someone as beautiful as Even would stay with him when the morning came.

“What are you doing over there?” Even says. He glances up from the eggs to beam at Isak. “I woke up extra early on our anniversary to make you breakfast, and I don’t even get a cuddle for it?”

“We could’ve cuddled in bed,” Isak grumbles, but he dutifully makes his way over to Even, wraps his arms around his waist and presses his nose against Even’s back. He breathes in, and Even’s familiar scent calms down the flutters in his stomach. “Seven years, baby,” he whispers.

“Feels like longer,” Even says.

“Yeah,” Isak says, but he’s been saying this as soon as he met Even, hadn’t he? Falling in love with Even had been like discovering something new and familiar all at once, and even though they’ve only officially been living together for three years, Isak can’t remember a time when he didn’t come home to Even. They’ve weathered storms, fought and broke and healed, but in the end, this is where he belongs, holding Even safe in his arms.

Keep reading

And I know that my poetry usually makes no sense, it’s a thing called love that compels us to keep reading. Would you care to know why my favorite color is red? I used to have a friend named Kevin and it was his favorite color. He was the flamboyant and most colorful of us in the group. Popular with the ladies and loyal to his friends. I was the one in the backseat laughing to their thoughts when I really had none of my own. Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much. Maybe that’s why I love the color red. He painted his room red once, I remember things changing right around then. The drugs were getting a little heavier even with his teenage youth, the drugs will rip right through you. Painkillers will kill your emotions, you don’t want to feel a thing. I can relate to Kevin, I fucking love painkillers too. I shut myself off from everyone, but occasionally I enjoy the company. I’m awkward and my thoughts are kinda dim, so I always liked being around him. Are you familiar with the literary term foil? A foil is a character who contrasts with another character in order to highlight particular qualities of the other character. I feel like he was like that for me. I always saw myself as a little too blue, I wanted to be something worth loving, I wanted to be a little more like him, I want to kiss life into everything, I wanted to live, I wanted to be more than a shadow of a group of peers that did drugs and listened to melancholy and nostalgic techno after school hours. I don’t know how he’s doing or what he’s up to. The last thing I heard was he’s into needles now. Rumors plague this tiny town, we were raised from imperfections and we grew up to taste cigarettes that numb our gums. He had the kind of laugh that made you want to be his friend. It’s funny though, none of my friends initially liked me. Until they got to know me, empty and hollow, a sponge– the one who listened to the problems, never really any of my own. I get lost in my thoughts, I know. My poetry is scattered, I know. I don’t convey structure or rhymes, I don’t hide in between the rules. My words are more scribbles than they are truly masterpieces. Would you like to know why I write? I used to know someone that said the shoreline was like a bed and naps were always possible– she waited there everyday for inspiration. She would tell me the tiny stories inside of her head that had nowhere to go, it’s funny. I never really listened to her, I just enjoyed the company of love and to be loved. Love, what is it? When I wrote my first poem for her, I didn’t know where it came from or why I wanted to write it. I just knew that I had to write it. It had to be done. I had to read it to her. Let me tell you, if your first poem was a love poem, it was probably the most cringe thing you’ve ever created. Ever. Period. But still, I loved it. It was bad, but it had feelings. You always miss the feeling more than you do the person and that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever had to realize. It really shouldn’t be, but it is. You never really understand your mistakes until it’s just you. You only want them back when you’re alone. It’s been so long, I don’t keep track of the days anymore. Hell, she’s married now. I shouldn’t be writing this. She’s going to read it anyway. It doesn’t matter at this point. I guess she left poetry inside of these palms for good measure, she loved attention. A lot of it. The more, the better. Maybe I stopped paying attention. Maybe I got too comfortable. Maybe that’s why I love writing poetry, in a way it just means that I still love her. Lost kids who didn’t know how to love, another foil. You know, I never really liked to read books until I met her. She had a smile made from your doggy eared books, you know, your favorite line you always had to reread or quote during a conversation. She had the kind of laugh that made you want to get in on the joke even though you were the one telling it. I loved that laugh almost as much as I loved Kevin’s. I don’t talk to these two anymore, I don’t remember much about the memories, only the feelings that they left. You can’t find loyalty amongst pill users, they always use. Trust me, I know. I’ve been swearing off painkillers for months. You won’t find a love like that again because every relationship is unique in its own way. You can’t recreate the old flames with your new ones. You need to move on. I haven’t really lived life. Maybe you’re just like me. Maybe you’re stuck at a job that you don’t like and maybe life just doesn’t make much sense. So you blackhole more drugs to ease the disaster that is you. Nothing hurts, you just don’t want to remember anything that might hurt– right? It really shouldn’t be, but it is. I listen to music more often than I converse with people. Music influences my soul in a way that people cannot. I just turned 24, but I’m still a little confused about who I am. Does any 24 year old have their shit figured out? Do you ever feel like your dreams and aspirations are slowly dying? I’ve always felt like an old man. I’m boring and I don’t dance too much, the only thing good about me is my writing. It’s the only thing I’m half decent at, but I hate that too. I don’t answer anonymous questions anymore because I feel like my thoughts aren’t good enough. How can I help you if I can’t even help myself? Red rose petal poetry pressed onto the stove kind of writing– it really shouldn’t hurt, but it does. I’ll always miss the days when things were simpler. I didn’t care as much. I didn’t smoke as much. I didn’t think as much. It was just simple. No hard facts, just some stupid kids getting high behind a dark house and running into ghosts in every room. No broken hearts, just some teenagers who wanted to figure love out with a knife in hand waiting to hug each other. I’ll pry the knife real slow and we’ll call it love kind of love, ain’t it love? I love you doesn’t even sound right anymore, so I’ll say nothing. I miss my old friends, but we’ve changed so much– I wonder if they’ll even recognize me. My life is insignificant and minuscule, but we must all seek to find our purpose, to bring meaning to the clutter, and to add more fire to the chaos that is life. I don’t want to die angry, I want to die with a smile. You don’t get to do anything twice, you don’t get to correct your mistakes– so make enough for your self-reflection drunk nights. You don’t get to unlove people, so pick the right ones to fall in love with– don’t worry, you won’t need to remember all of their names, just the feelings. You don’t get to unfriend people, they’ll always be a part of you. A part of who you are. A part of who you will come to be. I keep slipping into the darkest parts of my mind and call it a life. I’ve been reading this book and it told me to dig deep. Why do I write? Why do I enjoy the burn of love? Over a few thousand poems, but 99.9 percent are indeed about love. Why do you want this kind of life? Well, darling– These words are as much yours as they are mine.
—  zero point one
Floral

I remember writing this just after H’s 23rd birthday, and to take revenge on @dadshirtking​, so here it is again! Any feedback is appreciated xx

The party was in full swing and you were having a great time, sipping a vodka and lime. The place was packed with people, half of which you didn’t even know. It became clear to you that your boyfriend had a lot of friends, ones you hadn’t been introduced to, but you were fine with that. You weren’t a fan of being the centre of attention. It was his birthday party. Tonight was Harry’s night.

23 years he had lived and what a wonderful 23 years they had been. This year was a big year for him. His film would be released in July and he was working on his debut solo album. Just being proud of him was a massive understatement. You and Harry had only been dating for about a year but your heart bloomed with so much love for him that sometimes, it was hard for you to contain it. You loved him more than you ever thought you could love anybody but Harry had that handsome charm that made you fall under his spell within seconds.

Just as you helped yourself to some nibbles on the table, a unique British accent hit your ears. You had never met her but you were a huge fan of her. How could you not be? She was Adele! She came up to the table and popped an olive in her mouth, holding a glass of bubbly in her hand. She caught you looking at her and smiled sweetly.

“Hello there, love!”

“Hi.” You squeaked.

“Aren’t you a cutie? What’s your name?”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“What a gorgeous name! So, how do you know our lovely Harold?” She asked. You weren’t offended that she didn’t know who you were. How could Adele know you? You were just about to answer her when you felt a hand place itself on your waist. You knew his touch, you didn’t have to look up to know who the hand belonged to.

“Hello, baby. I see you’ve met Adele.” His smooth deep voice never failed to make your heart beat a little faster than normal. Adele’s gaze darted from you to Harry then back to you, her eyes widening as her hand went to her mouth in shock.

“Oh, dear, you’re Harry’s girl, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, love, I had no idea!” She reached out and clasped your hand in hers, asking for forgiveness. You told her it was OK, giving her a small smile, because you still couldn’t believe you were standing in front of Adele. She wished Harry a happy birthday before taking another olive and going off to chat with some other people.

“Wow.” You choked out.

“Wow what?”

“Harry, you know how much I love Adele! I can’t believe I actually spoke to her!”

“You are adorable when you’re excited.” Harry chuckled. You turned your body to face him and smiled up at him. Why on earth did he have sunglasses on his head at night, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask. The patterned shirt he wore was a birthday present from you. It was no secret to anyone that Harry had a unique fashion sense so the moment you saw the shirt in the shop window, it was a no-brainer for you to buy it for him.

“Are you enjoying your party?” You asked.

“Of course, baby. Especially because you’re here, wearing these pants.”

You glanced down at your legs and remembered the look on Harry’s face when he first saw you in these pants. Red floral pants, very Harry Styles-like, skin-tight and perfectly hugging your curves. Stealing my ideas of clothes, are you? He had said when you walked out into the living room earlier today. What could you say? His sense in fashion was rubbing off on you.

“I know you like them.”

“I love them.” Harry corrected you.

“It’s a shame the boys couldn’t make it.” You said, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. Even though the other lads were in L.A., they were busy with their own lives and working on their solo music. And Harry understood that.

“I know. But they texted me this morning and they’ll probably tweet me as well. It’s all good. All I need on my birthday is you.”

He was such a sap and you loved that about him. He could be sexy but extremely cheesy too. You giggled a little and blushed. His lips touched your cheek and teased your jawline as you squeaked his name. Then, his mouth was on yours, and you couldn’t care less if pictures were being taken of you two. Harry was happy with you and he had a right to show it.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, birthday boy.” You whispered against his lips, giving him one more kiss and patting his chest. Harry reached behind you and grabbed a glass of vodka and lemon from the table, clinking his glass with yours. You wrapped your arm around his waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple, the stain of alcohol on his tongue. You inhaled your boyfriend’s musky scent mixed with his Tom Ford cologne, knowing it would not be the alcoholic drinks that would be the result of your intoxication. It would be Harry.

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Fantasizing about boys felt like a healing paper cut: uncomfortable, but manageable.
While imagining a future with a man I mistook the relief of companionship for romance, and the anxiety for chemistry.
When I pictured him saying ‘you’re mine’, it felt like being trapped, too possessive, I did not want my heart stolen but at least being kept in a cage would keep me safe.
Dreaming about kissing boys seemed acquiescent, as long as my eyes were glued shut the entire time. This was love, right?

When I saw her for the first time I was mesmerized and I have never wanted to give up custody of my own heart more;
She felt like home, like freedom, and all the discomfort I had assumed was natural melted, just like I did whenever she touched me.
Her laughter reminded me why the earth revolved around the sun and when we kissed it felt like I had found the world’s greatest treasure without even searching for it.
When I imagine a lifetime with her it doesn’t feel cumbersome anymore and I realize it was meant to feel this way all along.

“You killed my sister, I forgive you”

In April 2014 Craig Scott (the brother of Rachel Joy Scott, the first victim at Columbine), wrote a letter to Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, He wanted to forgive them, even if they killed his sister Rachel.

—————————————————————————————————-
“Eric and Dylan,
It’s been fifteen years since you came into our school armed to the teeth killing 13 people and wounding 24. In approaching the school, the first person you killed was my sister, Rachel Scott, she was 17. Before you killed her you asked her if she believed in God, she answered “yes” and you opened fire.
It was April 20th 1999, this year the anniversary falls on Easter Sunday where my family will celebrate our time together and honor our faith. If Rachel were here today she would be painting Easter eggs with our sisters and playing with our nieces and nephews.
She, at some point, would look me in the eyes and tell me to smile more and not take things too seriously.
She was an incredible teenager who has changed the lives of millions all by little things she did for others and the writings she left behind in her diaries. The truth about her is that she would have forgiven you for your hateful actions, so do I.

While many people around the world watched on television of students running out of the school, police approaching, and sobbing pupils. Before the camera crew arrived, I was in the library where you were slaughtering our classmates as if it were a game or movie you had watched again and again. At gunpoint you bullied and made fun of us. Crouching under a table remaining silent, I saw you shoot two of my best friends. The last thing Isaiah heard were racial slurs. You both left the library for a few minutes giving us a chance to escape. I yelled out at the students to escape with me and helped pick up a girl who had been shot. After escaping, you returned to the library and put an end to the massacre by taking your own lives.

That day my life changed forever. The next two years I carried a lot of hate and anger fantasizing on how I would have got revenge on you, had you been alive, and at times closed myself off in isolation. It was making me more like you. Then I decided to go on a mission to South Africa. It was one of Rachel’s dreams. There I met the man who enlightened me. 17 members of his family had been killed and despite the profound pain he spoke with me, he shared his story and did it with serenity. That day I understood that I had to break the chain of hate you started and the only way was to share with every one. I had to travel a long path to forgiveness to free myself from your shadows. Now not only do I feel free but I speak about a powerful story that rose out of the ashes - a message that my sister left behind. The biggest antidotes to anger and hatred are kindness and compassion. Your darkness gave light a chance to be seen.

A month before the shooting, you were in your parents’ basement pointing to a camera with a gun saying, “We need to get a f**king chain reaction going here.” At the same time, one month before, my sister was in her english class writing a paper about her values and beliefs, “I have a theory that if one person will go out of their way to show compassion it will start a chain reaction of the same.” Both of you spoke of a “chain reaction” but while yours ended with suicide, Rachel’s lives on with us as we share her story with millions of kids each year. My sister’s unfairly short life continues to have a huge impact on others.

I remember you. We met once when I was in 8th grade and you were in high school. Your presence instilled fear in me. We were at a mutual friend’s house and you were on the computer looking up plans to build a pipe bomb, little did I think that a couple years later I’d find myself under a table protecting myself against such a bomb. We even played basketball together, there you seemed like “normal people”.

There are those who say you started the slaughter because you were bullied and ostracized in our school. If I could go back to that day on the basketball court, I would talk to you, I would ask you why you acted the way you did and I would try to make you understand that it’s not all like it seems. I would tell you that the solitude you felt was the same that many others feel and that it all passes.

Eric and Dylan, what you did that day didn’t solve anything. You didn’t do justice with those guns, you stole the dreams and futures of 13 innocent people, like my sister Rachel. Today I forgive you because I know that hate only creates hate, and I cannot let you take away my smile, you’ve already taken my sister.“

—————————————————————————————————-



If this letter is already on Tumblr, please send me a message and I’ll delete it, don’t report. I‘ve never see it, but maybe someone has already posted it.

anonymous asked:

I know you're a sasunaru shipper but in your opinion do you think Sakura or Hinata is the heroine? (or who would at least be better). Because I think Hinata has done more to help Naruto. Like, she risked her life twice for Naruto, helped him when Obito was messing with Nar's mind and he even said 'thanks to you who stayed by my side' (he's clearly stating that she was always by his side), he held her hand etc. I mean, what did Sakura ever do to be called the 'heroine' ? :)

No, I don’t think Hinata is a better heroine than Sakura. Hinata’s mere existence is there to serve a man. She has no backbone, she never won a fight, she never followed her dreams. In the end, she became a housewife who couldn’t care less about the everlasting slavery in her clan. Without Naruto, she can’t succeed. 

See, there are many different forms of strength a person can have. However, in a literary sense, if you want a character to appear strong, you have to develop them well. It’s about their function as a character in the story. So a character who isn’t necessarily a strong person can still be considered strong. A heroine should be naturally heroic, but not all heroines are heroic in the same way. A heroine needs good traits. She might not always show them, but if she comes across as a complete bitch, readers will most likely don’t see anything heroic in her.

It’s important to avoid making a heroine weak. She can’t turn into a doormat; she has to stand up for herself and think for herself. Obviously, neither Hinata nor Sakura fit the bill. Sakura has her own problems. She represents the “tough” girl that gets calmed down by her husband and becomes obedient. But if I had to choose, I’d go for Sakura because she isn’t as one-dimensional as Hinata, although her character development is inconsistent.

To be honest, it’s quite ignorant to say Hinata has done more to help Naruto. First of all, you are reducing her status as a heroine to a male character. This is not what a true heroine is about. All Hinata has achieved so far is connected to Naruto. She has no achievements or importance outside of Naruto. This certainly does not help her case. Sakura has achievements of her own that aren’t related to any guy.

Hinata chose to jump in and—as she said so herself—selfishly put herself in danger in order to express her feelings. Again, she was fully aware that she was going to die. She was fully aware that she was going to die in front of Naruto; yet, she didn’t care. She was fully aware that it was a prime opportunity to confess to Naruto without having to face a possible rejection since she would be dead. That’s not heroic; it’s cowardly and insane.

When was the second time? 

Do you mean this

Um, saying “It’s thanks to you who stayed by my side” is not the same as saying “You were always by my side.” That means he thanks her in the context of her actions right at that very moment. Nothing more, nothing less. Holding Naruto’s hand is not really… you know, heroic. 

What has Sakura done? For one, she’s a main character, something Hinata cannot say about herself. But to answer your question, besides being the only ninja without any special abilities and yet proving herself by practising incredible control over her chakra, inhuman strength, excellent medical skills, catching up with two of the strongest ninjas in the world, believing in her best friend Naruto’s ability to accomplish anything he puts his mind to, and being trained by the Fifth Hokage herself, nothing much.

After Naruto’s fight with Pain, Sakura is the one that hugs Naruto, not Hinata. Naruto doesn’t even think about Hinata’s well-being at this point. Or what about Sai telling Sakura that the things she does are out of love for Naruto? Or Yamato and Kakashi who both recognise that the two interact in quite intimate ways with each other? I realise my reply is turning into a shipping debate, welp.

Also, this. The hero saves the heroine, one of the most typical romantic tropes existing. The heroine is in a fix. She has tried everything. She doesn’t know what to do anymore. When all hope seems lost, the hero comes in at the last minute and helps the heroine, causing her to fall in love with him. 

Remember the time when Sakura jumped in to save Naruto? In comparison to Hinata’s attempt, Sakura’s was far more altruistic and heroic, for she didn’t put her feelings for Naruto above his safety. 

Though if we were to judge a heroine by how many times she helped Naruto, then we can all agree that the true heroine of the story is Sasuke, lol.

anonymous asked:

Can you please recommend me some really long fics? Thank you💕

Sure! Just in time for SCAWeek too :) I’ll list these by writer, and most of them will be Steter but a few will also be polyamory and I’ll specify those.

bxdcubes/nezstorm

Make Your Own (Buns in the Oven)

Stiles opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out as he feels tears welling up again. He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly to calm himself enough to do this.

Peter waits, brows furrowed in worry as he watches Stiles.

“I think I’m pregnant,” he finally says, “And I don’t know what to do.”

Or the one where Stiles is a human incubator and Peter is not the baby daddy (until he is).

it’s not the color i came in

Stiles is a bit of an anomaly among the Omegas he knows, or everyone on the spectrum really.

For him, heats are about comfort and safety, and not at all about sex.

Guede

Bittersweet Creek

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

The Time Travel Grammar Book

The story that was supposed to be about time-travel, but is really a stealth AU of the first two seasons where Talia’s a struggling single mom, Peter’s the eponymous teen wolf, and Stiles, Scott and Lydia…are time travelers (so that part’s not totally inaccurate).

The Sphinx of Beacon Hills (Stetopher)

Stiles is a sphinx, and he’s winging his way to visit his buddy Scott when a storm drops him in Beacon Hills, the craziest, crankiest, coldest place ever. And somehow, he ends up with a bunch of werewolves.

Dead Men Tell No Tales (Steterek)

Sociopathic mercenaries Stiles and Lydia pick up some Hales in the middle of killing Kate Argent. They’re not rescuers.

Movement in Alpha Major (Stetopher)

Peter Hale, thirty-four, shady but successful human lawyer, knocks on his nephew Derek’s door one night because he’s just been bitten by a werewolf. Somehow, this ends up being a lot more awkward than one would expect.

yogi-bogey-box/Green

Set the Sun, Rise the Moon

Stiles wakes up a werewolf, with no memory of how it happened. Understandably, he panics.

“He wasn’t supposed to come home,” Stiles whispers. He knows Peter can hear him even with the shower running. “He woke me up and I remembered and I panicked…”

“Your father,” Peter says, and it’s not a question.

gingersnapwolves/KouriArashi

Sympathy for the Devil

Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there’s a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems…

Get Off (Me)

Stiles hates being left behind with Peter while the pack is fighting monsters, because he never knows exactly what Peter will get up to.

Devil of Mercy

Peter’s heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels… sharply curious.

Call My Name

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

DiscontentedWinter

Save Me

Peter is the Alpha.
He’s nobody’s savior.
Not his pack’s. Not his town’s. And not that kid’s.
But sometimes salvation goes both ways.

Infinite Space

Stiles needs Peter’s expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills.
And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Sanctuary

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

thesushiowl/SushiOwl

Baby Boy

What the heck is FetLife?

Stiles is too curious for his own good, and he can’t help himself, so he joins a website advertising to be a good place for “kinksters.” He just wants to be nosy and see what total strangers are up to. Then he meets Peter, who wants to be called Daddy.

Could Stiles be his baby boy?

Pigments and Pentacles

“One–” He stabbed the needle right through skin and cartilage, pulling a loud squawk out of Stiles.

Stiles sucked in a few quick breaths then started to laugh. “You son of a bitch,” he snorted. “You said on three.”

“I lied,” Peter replied, smiling down at him.

ShippersList

All In A Spin

Stiles can’t really talk anymore but, with Peter, he realizes he doesn’t have to. Even if their spoken communication consists of one swear word and stuttered syllables, they understand each other. And that’s what counts.

and-now-presenting/mia6363

If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out

Commander Stilinski looked like he fell out of a propaganda video, his armor still smoking as he pulled off his helmet and handed it off to First Officer Argent. He had a few bruises down his neck but his smile was bright.

“Glad to see you safe and sound, Mr. Hale. I’d hate for Derek to lose a member of his family.”

“I told you,” Derek snapped at his superior, “he’s not worth this, Commander.”

Pirotess666

Spark of Dark

After being abandoned by Scott, Stiles feels empty and tired. Sick of life. Until Peter re-enters his life and makes him want to live again.
All of a sudden he’s not so alone anymore…and neither is Peter.

ladypigswagon

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

LadyArinn

You Had Me at Canapes

Stiles doesn’t mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn’t mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride’s uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

wordsformurder/pprfaith

Naughty Hookers (Swathed in Wool)

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter’s just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

FeelingsDusk

Runes and all kinds of things

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent’s basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can’t seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

moonstalker24

Worn Out Shoes

When the dead rise, and the world comes to an end, the McCall Pack must learn to live in this new world, or die in the attempt. This is the story of the end, and of the year that follows.

Proposing To Strangers

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he’ll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn’t know who this kid is, but he’s cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He’s not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn’t really mind.

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

taylorpotato

Do You Like to Hurt? (Then Hurt Me)

Stiles shows up at Peter’s apartment, drunk and horny. Peter almost does the right thing—before it all deteriorates into a voyeuristic power game and Stiles has a mind-shattering orgasm. Things snowball from there.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Gamer Trash

Neither of them is aware of it, but Peter and Stiles play the same MMORPG. After Stiles moves away from Beacon Hills and goes to college, he and Peter start raiding together by accident.

Heatstroke (The Strongest Thing I Ever Felt Was Feelings For You)

“Dear god,” Peter snorts. “Alphas and their obsession with bodily fluids. Do you really find the narration of biological processes arousing?”
“You mean you’re not into the idea of smelling like me for days after this?” Stiles grins.
“I don’t know about days. I’m sure the birth control hormones will flush it out after about twenty-four hours.”
“You—what—I thought it suppresses your heats how are you—?”
“I like sex. So I take the pill that gives me shorter pseudo-heats. I’m still infertile. You gonna cry about it?”

(Or the one where Peter is a strong, independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha, but maybe he starts to like having Stiles around anyway).

I Had This Dream, That in Another World, I Was Someone Else, Someone Not Me.

Part of my hospital chaplaincy duties is to write a reflection on how it’s going. Identities may be altered for privacy. All the writings are here.

The patient, Jerome, had a trapezoid-shaped hole in his head, and he told me it was from his son.

Jerome’s son had waited in his father’s home until he came back from work, and then he robbed him. Jerome fought back. In the struggle, his son had picked up one of those bright and shiny geode rocks the size of a torso, lifted it to the sky, and wham, in a sick, slicing arc, brought it down into his father’s head. The son was still at large. The father, after six months in physical therapy, still could not get the blood stain out of the carpet in his house. Jerome had lost his job at the oil rig; his wife had left him; his other son took two jobs to pay off the hospital bills, but one evening after dropping off his dad for PT, had been struck by a sixteen-wheeler and died on impact. 

“Chaplain, I had this dream,” Jerome said, scratching his old wound, “that in another world, I was someone else, I was someone better, that I have two sons who love me, my wife never left, I was still at the rig with the boys … I had a dream that I was someone not me. It was extraordinary. It was wo—”

He fell asleep, which he told me would happen. His brain needed to shut down when it overworked itself. A few seconds later, he woke up and apologized.

“I had this dream, chaplain. Do you ever dream that you are someone in another world, a different you?”


I visited another patient, Donnie, who weighed about 1400 pounds. His legs had been amputated and he was nearly blind. He had a neurological deficiency in which he couldn’t stop eating; he had become diabetic and was recovering from Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, or as it’s also known, broken heart syndrome.

“Chaplain, I just think,” he said, eating his third plate of pasta, “I was meant to do … something, anything. Anything. Not this. Everyone tells you that your life is meant to help people, but how the hell can I do that here? Look at me.”

In our chaplain training, we call this intrapsychic grief, the pain of losing what could’ve been and will never be. It is the loss of future, the theft of invested time. It’s not a tangible, physical loss, but an internal shipwreck, the imperceptible emotional shriek in our chest when the picture of life we had planned for so long simply dies.

Donnie, the blind, obese, bedridden man with no legs, ordered pizza for the whole floor. That was, he felt, the best he could do. I told him it was even better than that.

Another patient, Lorenzo, had been in a car accident a few days before, and he suffered anterograde amnesia. He was having trouble remembering the words he had just spoken. 

“Chap—you the chap, right?” He rocked back and forth in his bed, nearly clapping his hands in frustration. “My girlfriend is real worried about me, man, she real worried. I think I’ll be fine though, but my girlfriend, she real worried about me. I’m not worried, I think I’ll be fine, chap. You the chap, right?”

He repeated himself, perhaps, to find security in the canvas of his own assurances. His brain had resorted to a safe mode, to grip onto the word-balloons which were floating away, by constantly making new ones.


I was astounded and bewildered by how much a mass of gray pulp between our ears can determine the course of a life, and inside the soul-box of our neurology is the possibility of a hundred lifetimes, and I was angry that the tiniest neuron could so effectively demolish an entire world.

What separated me from someone else not me, except by the tiniest shred of a neuron, one misfired synapse, one slender thread of chance? 

Another patient, Tony, was telling me that he had gotten weaker and weaker in his legs until one day, on the way home, he had collapsed at the ATM and there were floating heads around him asking what was wrong, but they looked like demon faces, and he tried to kick them off but he couldn’t move anymore. Tony had some sort of encephalopathy that had caused brain lesions and he was seeing things that weren’t there.

“But you know, chap,” he said, breaking into tears, “I got this long-lost brother up in Boston, he’s my half-brother but he loves me like a full one, Mikey, this guy’s made of money and he offered me a room at his place, his house is on this fifty acre property, it’s a mansion. Can you believe it?”

I spoke with Tony’s sister, who told me that no such brother existed, and there was no room, no mansion, no fifty acres. It was a story that Tony had been telling himself for months now, when his legs began failing him. It’s all he wanted to talk about, this promised land. 

Oliver Sacks, in his book The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, writes about disturbed patients who “confabulate,” who spin tales all day long in a constant stream of chatter. They cannot help but conjure completely made-up yarns about meeting celebrities or devising inventions or discovering something remarkable, as if the widening chasms in their brain need a desperate momentum to thrive. Or, worse, such activity drowns out the long fall of personality into the abyss, into the unrecoverable ether. One story after another tumbles over the cliff; I may be the last one to hear them. 

It is my role to honor the burial of what can never be done. It is my role to remember what will never become. It’s not just my role; you and I need this more than we think. At every turn, every choice, we die a million deaths each day. How can we stand such a thing, except to tell those stories that never had a shot?

I had this dream … 

Suddenly, Jerome, the man with the trapezoid hole in his head, nodded off again, but his eyes fluttered, like someone was still home.

… that in another world …

He spoke, but a voice that sounded thicker, more weight, more verve. He sat up taller, his eyes closed but working. I took a small step back.

… I was someone else …

Jerome’s eyes quivered and he said, “I am the man from the other world.” He smiled, just for a second. “I am a hundred lifetimes, I am one of many. I am not who I could be.”

… someone not me.

“I am a life never had. I am the man in the dream. The dream wishes he could be the man in the other. We all wish to be awake in someone else. There is no perfect dre—”

And he woke up. Jerome blinked, saw me, and he apologized for sleeping again. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about the other voice. 

He said to me, “Chaplain, thank you.” He held my hands, his eyes alive and fiery, wet and fierce. “Thank you for listening. I have to believe my son didn’t mean it. He did the best he could with who he was. I still love my son, in this world or the next.”

I left the room shaking. I questioned if I had really seen what I thought I saw. I repeated his words in my head, I replayed the eerie twitch of his eyes, the way his body slipped into another skin, another dimension.

I wondered if I had glimpsed, even for a second, a keyhole into other possibilities, like dipping a toe into the stream of the infinite, where a son did not ruin his father, where a man missed a car by inches, where a promised land of endless acres was waiting at the other end.

I thought about how we’re always dreaming of being someone else, and the others are dreaming of each other, wishing for a world they couldn’t have.

We survive the nightmare, I think, by dreaming. To dream is to cope. It is the brain’s essential defense against itself. We create new dreams all the time, a new canvas of assurances, to wake against the intolerable. It feels like a lie: but what is hope, really, except a story we tell ourselves in the dark to light the way? If it works, who is to say otherwise? The world continues to be cruel and unfair, but we do the best we can with who we are, to dream amidst the wreckage of what no longer is, to bend with the merciless wind. To even share pizza with the whole floor.

J.S.

Prologue [Beyond the Sunrise, LMMxReader]

Summary:  Mixed up orders leads to a new and unexpected person in your life.

Word Count: 2,159

Warnings: None (a slow burn, but are you guys really surprised?)

Authors notes:  We are SO excited to share this with you guys, this universe is something we had so much fun creating and we hope you enjoy it as much as us! ❤ 

askbox | masterlist | next chapter


The neon lights and upbeat sixties doo-wop songs were the furthest things Lin wanted in his presence that night. Still, the Salt and Pepper Diner was the only place with decent food open this late into the night.

There was the added benefit that it was always empty when he found himself in. No soul in their right mind purposefully wandered into this place at three in the morning on a school day.

Except for him, of course.

Keep reading

Eye On The New Girl -AJ Styles x Reader

Summary:- You’ve just been called up to the Main Roster from NXT. You don’t know anyone, but you bump in to your dream man AJ Styles in the airport, almost instantly hitting it off. You both notice a spark whilst filming and episode of UpUpDownDown, and when you get back to the hotel to find your room has been cancelled. AJ overhears, and offers to let you share his room for the night.

Warnings:- Smut, Swearing, Bit of Fluff

Word Count:-  1,868

Requested by @heavenlytheshield

@fandomfreak202

Credit to Gif Owner! Normally use my own gifs but my computer wont work,so creds to you. you rock. 

Keep reading

Love at first sight (Jasper Hale x Reader)

—————————————- Fandom: Twilight —————————————- Warnings: none —————————————- Summary: You are the new member of the cullen family, soon to find out that you are also Jasper’s mate. —————————————-Authors note: This didn’t go exactly as planned and it is my first Twilight imagine but I hope you all enjoy it. I am excited to write more of this series in the future and I hope that you will send in requests for it.

—————————————

You didn’t know how long you had been laying in the woods. Hours, days, weeks, none of it mattered once you so those incredulous golden eyes peering down at you with the waves of perfect blonde hair flowing as stared down. Something had connected between the two of you that no one yet understood. The strong arms of this beautiful creature carried you through the mountains and hills. You weren’t aware of where all you had been or how long it took to reach your destination, all you knew is that you were happy to get there.

Awakening on a soft bed with silk sheets, you opened your eyes and took a look around. You hadn’t a clue where you were. It was beautiful though. You sat staring out an open window. The entire wall across from you was a glass barrier between you and an enchanting forest.

  “Was this even real” you thought to yourself.

Only moments later the door of where you now rested opened to reveal a tall handsome man. Who, although was blonde, didn’t resemble the man from your dream.

“Your awake.” He said is a shocked tone as his eyes rested on you. He has walked over and began to examine you. Normally, you would push him away, but you were so confused at the moment you couldn’t think straight. He shined a light in your eyes and listened to your heartbeat with a stethoscope as you began to question him.

  “Yes, umm… who are you? And umm… where am I?” You asked in a pleasant yet confused tone.

“Right, excuse my thoughtlessness.” He smiled. You looked into his eyes, the same ones the boy from your dream had. “My name is Carlisle. I am a doctor here in the town Forks. My son was hiking out in the woods and found you almost dead. He carried you back to our place and we have been taking care of you ever since.”

  “Ok. So, how long have a been here? Am I ok now. I feel different than before. Almost, more powerful. Like I was reborn. Is that normal.”

“Well… when Jasper, my son, got you back here you were in a very bad condition. It may sound completely insane, but you just have to believe me. Alright?”

“Go ahead. I think I can handle it.” You grew more worried by the second.

Just as Carlisle was about to speak another figure appeared in the doorway. The man from your dream.

“She’s awake!” He rushed to your side. He had gotten there in a split second, much faster than anyone you had seen before.

“Could I ask another question? Am I on some type of drug or did he just get from there to here in a matter of .05 seconds!” You nearly shouted out of shock.

“You haven’t told her yet?” The boy, you now assumed was called Jasper, spoke.

“I haven’t gotten the chance. I will give you two some privacy.” Carlisle exited the room.

Jasper spoke first. “I’m sure, as you have heard from Carlisle, that when I found and brought you back here to him you weren’t in the best of health. Well, there is something strange that you need to know. It may sounds bizarre at first, but…” you stopped him in the middle of his sentence.

“I will have to understand. Carlisle told me that part. Could you tell me now, please.” You said, because you couldn’t wait any longer.

“We are vampires. When you got here, Carlisle knew that you would die soon if we didn’t do something. So we turned you. Please don’t get upset! I know it is a lot to take in…”

You stopped him yet again by laughing hysterically. “He couldn’t possibly be telling the truth.” You thought to yourself.

You then spoke,“ Could you tell me what actually happened now?”

He sat and stared at you without moving a muscle, but then broke the silence saying,“ Let me try to prove it to you.” Jasper walked over to a cabinet a rummaged through a drawer until he slid out a mirror and brought it over to you. “When I found you, I looked into your eyes. They were blue. You looked into mine at the same time, do you remember the color.”

  “They are the same as they are now. Not normally colored, but golden.” He held up the mirror after you had responded. You jaw dropped as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were the same as his.

Jasper spoke again, he has a southern twang in his voice,“ Try to stand up and walk around.” You stood up and took a step but instead of getting closer to him you had gotten to the opposite side of the room as quick as he had only moments before.

He chucked a little as how shocked you were. “Don’t worry, darling, you will grow to get used to it.”

  “Jasper, I do have one more question. If we had only just formally met, moments ago. Then why do I feel so attached to you. Like I have known you my whole life.”

  He smiled and walked towards you. Once he finally got to you he rested a single hand in your shoulder. “I’m not exactly sure about you, but even though we just met. I had been looked for you my entire life. There is a reason that when I found you, I couldn’t just leave you there even though I thought you might die. There is a reason that I had Carlisle turn you instead of letting go like most of his other patients. We have a connection. You are my mate, as we call it around here.”

You smiled. “Jasper, everything I have been told since I awoke either seems like it isn’t true or it is a complete fantasy. I surely hadn’t been sure of anything up until this point, but this, this I don’t even have to think about. I know that this is where I am supposed to be. Right here, with you.”

Before you knew it you were pinned against the nearest wall with Jasper’s soft lips attached to yours.

  “I am so relieved that you feel the same way.” Jasper said breaking the kiss.

You breathed heavily, taken aback by the kiss you had just received. “So what now?” You asked Jasper.

“You are staying with us from this point on. We will be spending quite a bit of time getting to know each other better.” He said as his hands roamed down your body and held onto yours. “First things first though, you must meet the full family.”

“So it’s not just you and Carlisle?” You asked curiously. He let out a breathe of laughter.

“Not exactly. Don’t worry though, they are going to love you.”

Originally posted by americanultra

Fic: Walking in the deep blue night

Part three of my Heartlines AU.

Part 1 Whiskey on a Pink Dress

Part 2 - Breathing in the Half Light

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Originally posted by undertheinfinite





He arrived outside Taps for the third time and checked his watch. 6.45. He’d been round the block three times and it was still far too early. Should he go in and wait? Or should he wait outside? Or should he walk around a while longer to avoid looking too over eager?

“Jesus, Jamie. Getting a bloody grip on yerself man. She’s only a woman”

But what a woman. He hadn’t been able to get the image of her out of his head. He’d spent the whole day languishing around his apartment like a lovesick teenager, thinking about her. The soft curl of her hair on her shoulder. The way she looked at him when she’d run her finger down his cheek. He’d also fielded several angry calls and text messages from his friends wondering where he’d run off to.

“Ye’re no Cinderella, ye know’ grumbled Rupert “Ya didna need to be running off before the clock struck midnight.”

“Ah, but my work there was done, Rupe. I’d already been swept off my feet” He recounted his meeting with Claire and his plans to see her that evening.

“Ye were cramping our style there anyway.” laughed back Rupert.

“Aye, I can see how 4 married men in their thirties and forties would have been the toast of the club” Despite his big talk, Rupert had been happily married to his childhood sweetheart for 15 years and was as blissfully happy now as he had been the day he married Gina.

Rupert laughed again. “Aye, well. Gina asks are ya coming to dinner on Wednesday, she’ll likely grill you about the lassie but the kids have been asking for their Uncle Jamie.”

“I’ll be there, wouldn’t want to disappoint the bairns. Or Gina.” he added wryly.

He’d then spent an inordinate amount of time picking out clothes and trying to decide if the fact he had his knickers in a knot about going out for a drink with a woman he had spoken to for probably no more than 7 minutes meant he had severe emotional problems. Why was he so uptight? Whilst he’d not exactly been Glasgow’s version of Casanova, he had been on dates in the last few years. There had been the nice dentist that he met in the supermarket and gotten to talking to over a discussion on the merits of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc versus Napier. They’d had dinner a few times. He’d even kissed her, but he felt no desire to pursue her and when she text him to let her know she’d been asked out by someone else, he’d wished her joy and simply never thought of her again. He vaguely realised now that probably hadn’t been her main motivation is revealing that tit bit to him.  Then there was F&B journalist he’d met at a craft beer fair when he’d first started diversifying the farm. They’d gone out once she’d spent the entire night talking about her ex, who was a musician before puking in his car on the way home. He’d seen her at a few events since but she’s given him a wide berth. His car still smelt a bit on hot days.

But this, he knew, was different. He wanted to see her, to be in her company, to breath the same air as her. The thought of hearing her laugh, of maybe being the one who made her laugh…

After his fourth lap of the block he arrived back outside the bar. 6.55. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. It was quiet, being Sunday night and the bar contained about a dozen people. A small group of men in the corner drinking stout and discussing the different brews, a couple at the bar, and Claire.

She sat at a table near the window, staring out at the street. There was a book of poetry spine up in front of her and she had glass and bottle in front of her. Her hair was pulled back slightly, but was starting to escape near the front. She wore black jeans and a black shirt.Her pale skin seemed to glow.  She was lovelier than he had remembered.

“I promise to try not to spill that one down you” he said with a smile. She looked up at him and he motioned to the drink in front of her. “I’m not saying I won’t, but I promise I’ll try”

She smiled back and stood. There was an awkward moment when neither of them seemed to really know what to do. He wanted to touch her, but a hug seemed too familiar, a handshake too formal. Claire solved the dilemma by putting her hand on his arm.

“It’s lovely to see you, Jamie” she said sincerely and he felt the heat rise in his face slightly.

“Oh great” he thought, “now I’m blushing” Claire sat, not seeming to notice the colour which had flooded his cheeks. She gestured for him to do the same. “I’ll just get a drink, can I get you another? A whiskey this time?”

“Oh, no, a little early in proceedings for whiskey yet. I’ll have another of these.” She tipped the bottle towards him. Lady Broch Taurach pale ale. He grinned at her. “You like that do you?”

 “oh yes, my friend Joe at work introduced me to craft beers and he’s a big fan of a little brewery near Inverness, Lallybroch, I think they’re called. I’ve developed a taste for this one”

He nodded and headed to the bar. Lallybroch microbrewery was the most recent expansion he had made to his family business. Lallybroch had been in his family since forever and was a the main factor in his decision to leave oil and gas and come home to Scotland. He was strangely chuffed that she was drinking his beer, brewed on his farm and although he knew it to be simple coincidence, he could not help but feel the same jolt of serendipitous good fortune that he’d felt when he had, quite literally, bumped into her the night before.

He returned with the drinks and sat down next to her so they could both look out of the window. Its started to rain. Because of course it had. It was Scotland. They chatted aimlessly and easily and Jamie’s nerves dissipated slightly. He was still incredibly aware of her, but she was so unassuming, so funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. She told him about her job at the hospital. She’s a surgeon. He told her about Lallybroch. She picked up the bottle in front of her. “I’m impressed. And who or what, exactly is a Lady Broch Taurach?”

“Well,” he settled in to tell a much loved story. “Lallybroch has been in my family since the eighteenth century. Back then we owned the whole estate, and our family were Lairds. The estate was called Broch Taurach, the Laird and his Lady were named for the estate. We just have the farm now, but it’s plenty.  The farm itself is a proper working hill sheep farm and we have some highland cattle as well. We have a tourist bit, with a gift shop and a restaurant and the such. And then about 18 months ago I opened the brewery. We sell to quite a few places. ‘The Laird’s bedroom’, which is a stout and the pale ale” he gestured to Claire’s drink “are probably our top sellers. I live in Glasgow most of the time, running the business side of things and my sister and her husband run the farm day to day”

“A brewer, my dream man” she said with a giggle taking a swig. By this point they’d both had more than was probably sensible or wise on a Sunday night and were both finding life and each other hilarious.

“So how did you end up in Scotland? A wee Sassenach lassie like yer self?” he deliberately thickened his highland accent  in the second half of the question and once again felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach at the sheer pleasure of making her laugh.

“Oh, well” her face darkened a bit “Well, it was my husband. Frank.”

“Your, your husband?” he swallowed audibly.

“Oh we’re divorced now. That tends to happen when your wife finds you in bed with your Phd student” She said this flippantly enough, but her jaw was set and her eyes had dulled.

“I’m sorry t’hear that, Claire”

“It’s fine, really, it’s just, well” She gestured vaguely into the air in a manner that conveyed that whilst things might be fine now, at some point in the not very distant past they had been a long way from fine. “It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t just lost the baby” Tears welled in her eyes and he could see her trying to master herself. He reached forward and took her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me. You don’t owe me anything, but if you want to talk. Well, I’ll do what I can to listen”  She gave him a watery half smile at that.

“Thank you, but really. It’s in the past. It was very hard at the time. I had to do a lot to move past it, but I did and I try not to look back.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I think I might let you buy me that whiskey now”

Several very good whiskeys later he had in turn told her all about Geneva, his terrible relationship history and the real reason for his being in the nightclub on the previous night.

Claire was doubled over with laughter as he reenacted the various conversations he had with people in the run up to the night itself.

“Why everyone seemed so sure I was gonna meet the love of my life in a dodgy Glasgow disco with sticky carpets and one pound shots I’ll never know? They must have really thought I was a hopeless case”

“I’m fairly certain that was why we ended up there as well. Glenna, one of the nurses I work with, has been trying to set me up for the past year. I know that Altered Images is definitely not poor Mary’s scene and from the way Geillie and Glenna were literally trying to throw me in the path of every man that came by, I suspect this was another attempt at finding me ‘a braw laddie’” She did a truly awful Scottish accent and they both laughed again.

“Ya know what, Claire?” he asked as he regained his composure, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I have tonight, with you” Her colour heightened slightly at the compliment and she looked him in the eye.

Her eyes are the same colour as the whiskey he noted abstractly. Warm and golden, and so deep and rich you could lose yourself in them.

The moment was broken by the bar man coming over and asking them to drink up. Glancing around Jamie realised they were alone in the bar. He glanced at his watch.

“I er, well” He stuttered trying to find his thoughts. He did not want the night to end, but given that it was a Sunday night could think of no way to extend it.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” Claire asked outright with no hint of nervousness. “I have whiskey” she added teasingly, seeing him hesitate.

“Aye, why not?” He suddenly felt very alive and not a small bit reckless. He had no expectations of her, but the idea of irresponsibly drinking Scapa Glansa on a Sunday night with the woman of his dreams seemed like too good a chance to pass up.

“I only live around the corner, we can walk” Gathering up her book, which lay discarded on the table, and bag she held out a hand to him. He took it and together they walked out into the rainy night

You’re Safe Here (Dean x Reader)

Requested by anon.Enjoy!

Originally posted by im-in-trbl

“What’s your ideal husband?”

“I like a man that’s a mystery, someone that doesn’t talk very much, those are the ones that are the most affectionate. I prefer to just cuddle than talk, I like a man that knows what he is doing, he is not afraid to take risks and get touchy feely. I think it’s because i’m not good with words so touching is my way of showing affection.”

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“What’s your ideal wife?”

“I like a girl that’s more of an acting than talking. Someone that delicately sexy, I like a strong gaze in a woman. Someone tha'ts silently having my back and even though she will talk shit in front of me, she will cut someone that talks bad behind my back. A dynamic duo”

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Getting to be with Hyuk was something that you felt blessed about experiencing. He was pretty much the man of your dreams, the chemistry you had was over flowing and everyone that watched the show could see it. From silly missions, to random actions of affection, like playing with your curly hair, to teasing the other but then hugging them cause you felt bad. It was a relationship you wish you had without having to sign a contract and cameras following you.

You were a bit sad that it was the last episode of We Got Maried, it meant that you and Hyuk would have to go your seperate ways. You would go back to your job as an actress and he would go back to singing like an angel.

“Keep them close”

“If this is a sick joke, I will beat you until you bleed”

You threatened him as he carefully covered your eyes, so he won’t ruin your eye make up. He guided you somewhere and then stopped you. You could feel the curiousity bubbling up, you were tempted to rip his hand of from your eyes to see what he was hiding, but you knew it was something he had probably worked hard for and you didn’t want to ruin it for him. So you just bit your lips and patiently waited for him to reveal his surprise.

“1,2….3”

a beautiful set of a couch and a big tv was set right in the garden, you could already recognize your favorite snacks and the fluffy blankets that were perfectly folded on the side of the couch. One of the most brightest smiles reached your lips, you even showed your teeth, you rarely did that because of your insecurity of your crooked front teeth.

“Aww Hyuk, this is beautiful”

“Come on, I picked the best movie”

He took your hand and sat next to you on the very comfortable couch. He passed you the pink blanket, knowing that it was one of your favorite colours and he kept the creme coloured on for him. You took of your shoes and put your legs up to get cozy.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes”

He pressed play and his song “bonnie & clyde” reached your ears, catching you off guard. You turned to look at him confused but he didn’t even turn his head towards you, so you forgot the idea about him giving you an explanation. They were clips of the show, mixed with clips form him m/v, that caught your interested but made you even more confused, you were never the patient one.

“I’m so happy you were my wife. You were a lovely partner and great company, i’ll miss your weird laugh and your savage comments. I hope my wife can be just like you, I hope I made you feel happy and was a good husband to you, cause you deserve the perfect one. You are my ideal wife”

You read this in the screen and you could already feel your heart full of love. You never knew he felt like this, your relationship was more of a goofy one, you never expected this from him. It was such a loving gesture that you appreaciated very much.

“Ahhh why you had to make me cry?”

You turned away and carefully wiped the corners of your eyes. It was the first time that someone did something so sweet for you, you didn’t reallt know how to take it or how to respond.

“I didn’t want to make you cry”

“Happy tears”

You said as you faced him again with a smile. He saw your watery eyes and he couldn’t help but feel kind of bad, even though he knew you were not hurt, but just over emotional. He just reached for your hair and pulled them away from your face and over your shoulder, he always liked how you looked without hair on your face, he wanted to see your whole face on it’s entire glory.

“I’ll miss you too”

“It was fun wasn’t it?”

“Very much…. maybe too much fun. Look at us, all sappy and shit. You already know that when this airs everyone will think were are dating”

“Probably, I don’t blame them. Who wouldn’t want to be with a woman like you?”

You giggled at his compliment. You sat inches away from him, you really did hope that you could keep him in your life, although you didn’t know if that was possible, your careers might be both on the spotlight but they were based of from very different things. You acted on impulse and gave him a hug, resting your chin on his shoulder as he slowly rubbed circles on your back, making you feel comfort and some type of affection.

“I won’t do it. I won’t do it”

You whispered to yourself, in a desperate attempt to make yourself hold back the tears from starting again. You always had that thing of avoiding to cry in front of others, it just made you feel like you were making them pity you.

“I won’t look, you’re safe here”

“Thank you for a wonderfull marriage Hyuk, I never took the chance to thank you for this”

“Don’t thank me, you deserved every piece of it”

You pulled away from him and pulled all your hair back, you never thought that coming to this would make you feel so much for a guy. He really was what you exactly wanted.

“I have a suggestion, instead of leaving the rings, we switch them. You’ll have something from me and i’ll have something from you”

You just nodded. You both took of your “wedding rings” and gave it to each other. You immediately put it on, since it fit you, but he just kept it and put it on the pocket of his flannel.

“Now we have something to keep us together”