more out of curiosity than anything

Major Discovery: BotW’s Adventure Log = Link’s Diary?!


(Spoiler Alert)

At this point, our beloved game Breath of the Wild has been out for around half a year already. If you have played the game, you are probably very familiar with the Adventure Log feature in BotW that helps you keep track of all your missions and side quests. Or else its pretty much impossible to remember if you were catching chickens for this guy or collecting weapons to show that kid who’s boss.

But here’s the thing- Have you ever thought about the Adventure Log’s origin? Who or what is helping Link keep track of his missions?

If your answer is the Sheikah Slate or the “system”, which is what I’ve always thought, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you own an European/American copy of the game. Because apparently, in the Japanese version of the game, there is evidence that shows that LINK is the one who wrote the adventure log to keep track of his own journey.

“Ok… So what?”

So Link wrote the Adventure Log. Big deal. It’s not like this is gonna change the gameplay in any way.

…True. However, Link didn’t JUST record his missions in the Adventure Log. According to the Japnese version, Link would often type up some of his own thoughts and comments on what he was doing aside from his current objectives. This could give us a deeper insight of Link’s character.

Here’s an example:

This is what shows up after you complete The Hero’s Sword quest. The content of the two versions are very similar, but notice the use of “自分” (myself) in pic 1. This is evidence that the adventure log is written by Link, who’s talking about himself in first person narrative, instead of “the system”. With that in mind, the Japanese version can be translated to:

(I) Finally retrieved the legendary Master Sword. (I) Don’t know if it’s just an illusion, but the sword itself seems to be delighted about this.

To this moment, Princess Zelda is still inside Hyrule Castle, fighting to suppress the Calamity.

She is still holding on to the faith in me, believing that I will definitely come for her…!

But with the power (that I have) now, can she really be saved (by myself)…?

You see what they did there?

The English version replaced every first person pronoun Link has used with “you”!

As someone who owns an American copy, and has never set the system language to Japanese, I was absolutely SHOCKED when I was told about this (credits at the end).

Remember how we could find diaries of NPCs all across Hyrule? Link’s was right under our noses this whole time!

Now that you know about this, does your adventure log seem a bit different from before?

(I) finished visiting all 13 of the locations in the old pictures. I remembered everything I’ve been through together with Princess Zelda.

In those memories (of mine), Princess Zelda always strived to complete the task burdened onto her…

Even if it’s just a moment sooner, (I) want to save her as quickly as possible

(I) want to see her smile again, with these eyes (of my own).

The translation on this one is just OFF. I can’t believe the English version completely omitted the last part, and replaced it with some kind of mission instruction.

Link has been fighting all this time to see Princess Zelda’s smile again with his own eyes.


Not to mention those side quest logs. Once you realize that all of the entries were written by Link himself, the seemingly trivial information recorded in those suddenly opens up so many more hidden sides of Link. It basically re-introduced Link as someone with normal human emotions instead of the silent hero depicted throughout the game.

The caring Link, who was worried about a girl he only met twice for putting herself in danger:

…(I) ventured inside and found part of the Royal Guard’s Series, famous among equipment collectors.

When those were shown to Parcy, the traveler at the stable, her curiosity about it seem to be provoked more than ever (by me). (I) Hope she won’t do anything reckless…

The compassionate Link, who felt glad for other peoples’ happiness:

As a sign of appreciation for bringing the town together and as compensation for the work done (by me), a hefty amount of gems that were unearthed during the town’s construction were given by Hudson (to me).

(I) wish the couple could live happily ever after.

The reckless Link, who apparently felt thrilled when he managed to knock out some monsters with his new companion:

(I) captured the giant horse in Taobab Grasslands

So that’s why. It’s indeed a really big horse. It trampled whatever kind of monster in its way with ease when it galloped. That was really cool.  

When it was brought back to Straia (by me), he was very surprised.

Link the foodie, who carefully noted down new recipes he learned along the way for future use: 

(I) brought Kiana the goat butter and hearty blueshell snail required for cooking seafood paella. She shared some of the dish (with me) as thanks!


The playful Link, who tried to mimic the way Gorons speak- by adding “goron” at the end of every sentence- after he passed the Test of Will and became one of the bros:


Ah… (I) kinda want to write down Kabetta’s Bro Motto, but there’s not enough space goron?

That’s too bad goron…

The empathetic Link, who felt nervous for the guy in this side quest, then relieved when the couple finally got together:

…and… THIS:

The last line on the left is the Japanese equivalent of What the heck…

I guess the statue is a bit too weird even for our great adventurer.

Finally, we have the entry that shows up after you complete the DLC trial:

(I) finally conquered the merciless Trial of the Sword.


(I believe that) Princess Zelda would be quite happy about how much I’ve improved

As we all know, Breath of the Wild is a game that focuses a lot on the freedom given to the players. Even the main story line is broken down into the form of memories, waiting for the players to find. As the players venture on into the wild, they would eventually find the information they need to learn about this world. The amazing amount of details you can find about Hyrule and its people is an important reason why BotW is so attractive.

On the contrary, the info available about our protagonist is very limited. The only piece of description that directly describes Link is in Zelda’s diary, where she points out that he is a very quiet person, and that’s it for our hero.


Link had always had the most extensive character description. Right under our noses.

Nintendo got us. They got us GOOD.

But now we know.

SIX months after the game’s launch.

…Better late than never.


P.S.: Fun fact about BotW Link- he seems to like the sand seal game a lot. Of all the entires about racing minigames, the sand seal game is the only one where Link wrote “(I’ll) try to get a better score next time!

He’s so adorable I can’t //////


Disclaimer: I did not discover this.

This discovery was made by a Chinese gamer @atomaruU about a week ago. To make sure that her theory is correct, she cross referenced the English version of the game, only to discover that the language is completely emotionless and robotic. Therefore, to allow more people to see who Link REALLY is, I was asked to write this post based on the Chinese article she published. 

Her Twitter:

Tweet Link:

Chinese article Link:

Pic credits: @lulubuu0609 (She’s an amazing artist btw check out her blog)

Hope you enjoyed this :3    

Date Night

Request: Hi! Can you do a short fluffy imagine for Jasper? Like maybe he and the reader go on a date and try to be a ‘normal’ couple or something like that, do it however you want! Thanks! 

Pairing: Jasper x human!reader

Summary: ‘normal’ date night for a rather abnormal couple 

Warnings: Suggestive things, fluff 

Originally posted by alwaysshamelessdeer

Keep reading

Strawberry Kisses

Pairing: Richie/Eddie

Inspired by @eddiessecondfannypack ‘s post about Richie wearing strawberry chapstick

Richie was almost exclusively seen with chapped lips. He had a habit of biting and picking at them so they naturally became dry and cracked in some places. He learned to deal with it for years, but he wanted to do something to combat it.

So when he casually overhears a conversation with Eddie and Stan talking about food and how Eddie loved strawberries while Stan loved blackberries, Richie gets an idea.

He thinks he’s always deep down felt something different for Eddie, but only in the past couple months of his 16 years of life had he realized he felt romantically towards the small boy. He’d been thinking about telling the boy for a while, but never knew how. He thinks this could be his way.

He meets with the losers the next day at school, the strawberry chapstick he had purchased the day before smeared carefully on his lips. He sits beside Eddie casually, not making a big deal out of anything.

Eddie smells the scent of strawberry almost immediately after Richie sits beside him. He’s confused, to say the least. He doesn’t say anything to the older boy and dismisses it as a one time thing.

But Richie continues to wear the strawberry chapstick, and Eddie continues to be curious as to why Richie, the boy who never smelled bad necessarily, but had his own regular scent, smelled of strawberries.

The following week Richie and Eddie are at Richie’s house, pretending to be working on schoolwork but were actually doing more talking than work. Richie still smelled like strawberries, and Eddie still couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay any longer.

“Richie, why do you smell like strawberries lately? I mean…it’s nice and all, but you didn’t smell like it before.” Eddie asks.

Richie’s heart flutters. He’d been waiting for the boy to ask about it, but he couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster now that he had.

“Uhh,” Richie starts, “my lips had been chapped for a while now, and I wanted to fix them. So I got some chapstick to help.”

“Okay, but why strawberry Rich? I figured you’d just get a plain kind, you don’t seem like the strawberry type.” Eddie persists.

Richie takes a deep breath. “I’m not the strawberry type. But you are.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at that.

“W-what? You picked strawberry because of me?” Eddie questions.

“Yeah,” Richie confirms, “I thought if I smelled like strawberry…had strawberry on my lips…that maybe…” Richie trails off.

Eddie is blushing furiously now. Does Richie want to kiss him? Does he want to kiss Richie? He barely had to contemplate that question. Of course he did. The boy was a total whirlwind of a person, but somehow exactly what Eddie wanted.

“Can I kiss you then?” Eddie asks quietly.

Richie’s heart is pounding now. “Please.”

So Eddie faces Richie. He notices now how much softer the boys lips looked after using so much chapstick. He cups the boys face in his hand and goes for it, shyly pressing his lips to Richie’s strawberry flavored ones. He pulls away, only for Richie to kiss him again, this time more confidently. Richie’s lips are soft and plump, and the more he kisses them the more the scent of strawberry rubs off on him. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever. Strawberry kisses with his favorite boy? Everything was perfect then.

And the next day when Stan asks the two of them why they both smell like strawberries, they just look at each other and smile.

Pumpkin Carving (Grayson)

You sat at the kitchen table of your brand new house staring at the large, orange, and round object in front of you. You chewed the inside of your lip and glanced over at the stencil of a cat you had picked out. You were no artist so this was definitely going to be a challenge. You looked up at your boyfriend Grayson, who sat across from you, already deep in concentration and carving away at his pumpkin. Some Kid Cudi song was playing faintly in the background because he claimed it helped him focus. You scoffed. Such a fanboy. 

“What design are you gonna do?” You asked, lifting up the stencil and tracing it out onto your pumpkin with a permanent marker. 

Keep reading

Bad Match Pt 5/?

Series Summary: Bucky and the Reader are set up on a date, but things don’t go as well as expected.  

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 3064

Warnings: angst, self-hatred, jealousy, swearing, slow burn.

A/N: Thank you Mee, @imhereforbvcky  you rock my world with your notes!  

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bucky couldn’t take his gaze away from the soft hand that was entangled with his. He kept his body completely still and was breathing silently, so he wouldn’t wake up the sleeping form next to his bed. Y/N… she looked so peaceful, even if the position she was in was anything but comfortable for someone to sleep. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall. Her head leaning on his bed, while she kept her free hand on her lap. He thought about the pain that she was sure to feel after.

It had been the sunlight peeking from the balcony’s curtains that had woken him up to face the guest in his room. His mind hadn’t process right away what had happened, but then he knew… it must have been one of those nightmare filled nights and he probably got loud. Steve wasn’t there so she must have been fed up with his screams and had no choice but to go to him.

Keep reading

Return (Pt.1)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary:  (Loki Imagine: Imagine Thanos targeting Loki’s lover to punish him for his failure to get the Tesseract.) Taken from tumblr. Thor finds you during an intense mission with the Avengers. After disobeying Steve’s orders and saving you, Thor is cornered. Who are you? What were you doing there? How did Thor know you? Knowing he has to answer all of these questions, Thor explains everything.

Words: 3447

Read on Ao3:

Thor looked at her with mixed feelings. At first, he felt shock. It came in waves, raising the hairs on his body. He felt confusion and denial. He thought this must be some illusion and went on with the mission. Then he heard her. He heard her screaming his name as loud as she could.

“Thor! Thor please!” Over and over. Disobeying Steve’s orders, he went back for her. He broke her loose, and grabbed onto her tight. Using his hammer, they flew out of there. Back on the Helicarrier, he knew he was going to have to explain. He was going to have to answer questions. Painful ones. He wished he didn’t have to. He wished he didn’t have to say what he knew about this girl, but now was not the time for wishing.

He looked up from his hands where he tried to hide. He sat in a chair next to her. She was completely knocked out. Covered in bandages and a very big blanket, she laid in one of Tony’s personal hospital beds. He bought some just-in-cases, and kept them in a medical wing of the Avengers Tower. Thor looked in front of him. Natasha, Tony, and Steve stood in front of him, waiting. He felt a little scared, but mostly distraught.

“Who is she?” Natasha asked. The question lingered around the room. His shoulders dropped. He felt the weight getting bigger.

“It’s a very long story, Lady Natasha,” Thor replied. He half-hoped he could leave the answer at that.

“Was she your girlfriend before Jane?” asked Tony. He tried to be polite about it, but Tony had his own way of saying things as always. Thor chuckled.

“No, no,” Thor smiled. “Lady Jane is the only woman who has captured my affections completely. This young woman is more of my sister. I care for her very deeply, but not in the romantic sense.” The three Avengers tried to make sense of what Thor was saying. Natasha narrowed in eyebrows out of curiosity. Steve tried side-glancing at Natasha for help. Tony kept talking.

“Thor, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I think there’s more to this story than you’re letting off,” Tony pointed out. Nat and Steve nodded in agreement.

“You wanted to make sure we brought her back here safe and sound,” Tony walked towards the hospital bed. “We saved a lot of people, but you specifically wanted to bring her back here. Why? I mean, if she is not your girlfriend or anything romantically then who exactly is she?” Thor looked long and hard at Tony, Steve, and Natasha.

“If I tell you who she is, you must promise me to let me explain before taking any action,” Thor’s voice almost sounded like his father’s, like a ruler instead of a friend. The three looked at each other, and nodded in agreement.

“Okay, if she is that important then okay,” Tony said. “Who is she?” Thor cleared his throat and with a very serious voice he said,

“She is Loki’s fiancée.”

After some shouting, some scrambling, and an argument from Tony that was cut short by Nat because Tony said, “Her life shouldn’t be worth that much” and Natasha may or may not have put a knife to his throat and made him swear not to touch her. The four Avengers settled in the living room with some tea except Tony who felt he needed ‘a real drink’ instead. Thor felt their curious eyes on him, and he took that as a cue to start.

“Where to begin,” he sighed.

“How about you start with how you met her?” Natasha’s voice sounded more soothing than usual. She smiled a little, trying to encourage Thor to go on.

“Well,” Thor smiled back finally feeling some comfort. “The first time I met her was when I was with Loki and my friends. We all snuck out of the palace to go and drink at pubs when we were much younger. Lady Sif asked me if she could bring her along her best friend, Lady (Y/N). Fandral agreed immediately because he was dying for more female company. Some planning was involved on Loki’s and Fandral’s parts. They wanted to map out where we should go. My friends, Loki, and I took some horses from the stables and we settled at the first pub while we waited for the girls. Loki was complaining about waiting for them when they came in. Usually, Sif would be in armor, but for this night, she donned a beautiful dress. I will admit I did not want to look away, neither did Fandral or Volstagg. Loki, on the other hand, did not look at Sif at all.

“He was looking at (Y/N). I never seen him so engrossed with any girl before. He had kissed and danced with other girls, but this was different. He looked at her as if she was a book he always wanted to read. Sif introduced all of us to her. (Y/N) smiled with such grace and warmth; she was as beautiful as ever. I remember her first words to me. ‘Sif was right about you. You do look like a hero.” Thor had smiled for a bit allowing himself to return to the memory.

“Sif introduced her to Loki last. You remind me of her, Lady Natasha. Sif was very protective of (Y/N) at that time. She looked like she didn’t want Loki to even breathe the same air as (Y/N). Loki stood up and offered her his seat, but before she could sit down, Sif narrowed her eyes and said ‘Don’t you dare even try’ and sat her next to Hogun. That did not matter though, Loki always gets what he wants.” Thor chuckled.

“How so?’ Steve asked.

“Well, it was only the first pub of the night,” Thor continued with his natural talent of storytelling. “We were all drinking wines and meads, experimenting what tasted better. At the second pub, Fandral kept flirting with Sif, so she was preoccupied while Volstagg, Hogun, and I started a drinking contest with each other. I was determined to out drink both of them even though Volstagg was much bigger than me. No one paid attention to Loki drinking with (Y/N) alone. He whispered little things into her ear and she smiled. He didn’t touch her, but his fingers were always inches away from her. The 3rd pub was extremely crowded. It was so late in the night that many people were drunk, singing songs, and fighting all around us. No one had noticd who we were or how old we were.

“Sif ended up sitting on Fandral’s and my lap. Hogun went home after not being able to hold his own very well, and (Y/N) sat in Loki’s lap. He kept whispering things into her ear, and she would whisper right back. Loki had his arms all over her. Sif didn’t look too happy at what was happening. She asked the pair several times what they were talking about, but neither would reveal the subject. Then, as we went home, the sun was rising. Volstagg carried a passed out Fandral on his horse, Sif was falling asleep on mine. Loki had (Y/N) on his horse. Both of them were drunk and laughing. I remember watching him kiss her as he escorted her home. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was hers.” Thor smiled at the warm memory.

“What else do you remember about her?” Natasha said. She and Steve became excited to hear more of his memories. Tony stayed back, not yet enchanted by Thor’s words or stories about Asgard.

“So much,” he began. “After the pub night, she was around the palace more. As much as I enjoy Sif’s company, (Y/N)’s company was much more pleasant. She was the complete antithesis of Sif. Where Sif would train for days on end with the Warriors Three and me, Lady (Y/N) would spend her days dancing, reading, and have etiquette training. At balls, she would dance with such grace and ease. Her conversations were always interesting and knowledgable. Once I jumped in one of her ‘famous conversations’ at the wrong time.”

“Was it about something dirty?” Tony asked out of the blue hoping to find interest.

“No, it was about something disgusting, I’m afraid. All I remember is her describing how she cleaned horse shit off the gown she was wearing. She thrived at balls. I did not get to dance with her as much as I wanted to, but when I did, it was always wonderful. Loki would hardly let any other man dance with her. He became very possessive after an incident.”

“Incident?” Steve arched his eyebrow.

“(Y/N) finished her education, and therefore it was time for her to find a suitor, at last according to her parents. At one particular ball, Loki noticed a young man dancing with her for most of the night. He was the son of a respected member of the council. At the end of the night, the young man kissed her cheek and told her how beautiful she was. She blushed. Loki was furious. His face went red, and he kept pacing back and forth until he stormed off. Later that night, (Y/N) came up to me and asked where Loki was. We searched for him, but there was no trace. (Y/N) felt worried and slightly hurt. The next day I hear my father scolding Loki for playing a nasty trick on the councilman’s son.

“What did he do?” Tony smiled, suddenly interested.

“He gave the poor boy a horse’s nose with hooves to match.” The four Avengers laughed out loud, and Tony sat with Steve and Nat to hear more. They shared their drinks with each other and Thor continued on. “Loki would read with her in the library. He drank tea with her every day. He dueled with weaker opponents to make himself look stronger in front of her. They had a very strong friendship. (Y/N)’s famous conversations at balls turned into Loki and (Y/N)’s famous conversations. Everyone who knew them thought they would be a great match for the other. It was very hard to get him to admit his feelings for her.”

“He was scared of rejection wasn’t he?” Steve interjected.

“Yes,” Thor answered right away. “I don’t know why. I tried telling him to just tell her or she feels the same way, but he never believed me. I wanted to tell (Y/N) myself, but then I didn’t have to. My father took us on more dangerous missions and places. An adjacent kingdom was going through a civil war. My father thought it was time for the Warriors Three, Sif, Loki and I to fight in our first war. My mother and (Y/N) were so terrified. My mother argued with my father up and down for two weeks about it. She even threatened to go on a hunger strike, but it was time. We had to do this. Both of them had a very hard time saying their goodbyes. (Y/N) didn’t look Loki in the eye as he said goodbye to her. He misunderstood it as apathy. What I did not know until later was that (Y/N) grew more scared every day for Loki. She would read his favorite works and she wore green hoping it would bring him luck. When we came home, she hugged all of us very hard and crying for joy until she saw Loki.

“She stopped everything and ran to him crying even harder. She grabbed him and kissed him in front of everyone. I think that’s when Loki knew. We had a small celebration that night, and sometime during the middle of it, (Y/N) and Loki disappeared. Fandral found them in the gardens. Sif wanted me to come along and spy on them because after all this time, she did not believe Loki’s intentions to be good. And she was proved wrong. Loki confessed his love for her, and they embraced. It was endearing, and I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Nat said not believing the words that came out of his mouth. “Of your brother?”

“He had true love, something I did not understand or want yet, but he had it,” Thor continued. “Loki was always much more mature, level-headed, and intelligent than I was. Of course, it would make sense for him to find something like that before I did. But he was happy. They were both so happy after that. In fact, I caught them sneaking into his room that very night. She did not come out until the next morning.”

“You mean?” one of the three said.

“Oh yes, Loki made me promise not to tell Sif or anyone for that matter. He begged me not to, and (Y/N) ran away from his room before anyone could put the pieces together. They were deep in love. The day he asked for her hand was so glorious. It was her name day, and he made an intricate puzzle box that when it opened it revealed a beautiful ring and he recited a poem to go along with it. She said yes, and I gained a sister. There was no one more honorable or more worthy than she was. Everything was so wonderful until the Frost Giants.”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the time you were exiled here?” Tony asked. “I remember your files.” Thor nodded his head.

“During that time, Loki found out his true parentage, and that Odin would never give him the throne. He seized Asgard as his own, and (Y/N)’s parents became scared of their impending marriage. So, they hid her away. Sif and the warriors three helped, all of them in fear of what Loki would do to her.”

“Do to her? Did he threaten to hurt her?” Nat asked.

“No, he would never hurt her, but I was the only one to believe that. He became more violent. More unhinged. Sif would tell me how (Y/N) would cry every night because she only wanted to help Loki and that he needed her. She didn’t understand that he succumbed to the darkness around him. He sent out parties to find where she was hiding. Eventually, he had her parents thrown in the dungeon because they would not say. Then, our fight happened, and Loki killed himself, or so we thought. (Y/N) became so heartbroken, she considered suicide as well.

“Sif would visit her every day, and her parents had arranged for her to marry someone else. Until Loki was spotted on Midgard.”

“Germany,” Steve said.

“Yes, Heimdall burst into the palace informing everyone about this. Odin immediately allowed me to go to Midgard and try to bring him home. As I left, I had hoped to bring back my brother. What I did not expect was to lose a sister when I came back.”

“She attempted—

“No,” Thor looked to the ground in defeat. “She was taken by Thanos. After Loki failed him, Thanos’ men were seen at (Y/N)’s residence. They took her, and she wasn’t seen again. No one could find her, not even Heimdall. Sif went on a rampage. I have never seen her so angry or so saddened. My heart broke to think my almost sister was taken so suddenly, and I let her slip through my fingers. Loki had no idea until his trial after New York.”

“Loki didn’t know she was taken?” Nat asked. “He had no idea at all?”

“No. I will always remember the look on his face when he found out. He was terrified. However, this did not stop my father from rubbing this loss in his face.”

“And you haven’t seen her since until tonight?” Nat replied.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “We all assumed she died. That Thanos murdered her as punishment for Loki’s failures. Loki was sick to his stomach for weeks in his cell, or so I am told. To see her here, to know she is alive.” Thor’s voice trailed off.

“What do you want to do now?” Steve asked. “You wanted to explain before we took action.”

“Lady (Y/N) is a kind, loving soul,” Thor said. “I don’t know if she still loves Loki, but please do not place judgment on her. She is good. Please do not punish her because of Loki.”

“Done, but I want to ask her a few questions about Thanos and where she’s been,” Tony took the last sip of his second drink.

“And we must tell Loki that she is alive and here.” Thor ordered, sounding like his father again.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Nat said.

“This woman is everything he ever loved. Everything he ever wanted is her,” Thor said. “Before New York, before he found out his true heritage, there was a time where he would have gladly given up the throne and power for her. I love this woman as my own sister, and I am so relived she is safe. Please extend that courtesy to my brother. He deserves to know his love is alive.”

The Avengers took it to Fury, explaining the situation. SHIELD had their say and laid out rules. Loki had to be in chains, escorted by Thor at all times, and he must obey every order given to him. Loki was brought to the Tower somewhat confused, but apathetic. Loki donned some Midgardian-like clothing. He did not know what to expect until he reached his brother’s mournful face.

“Did that old oaf finally die?” Loki’s venomous words made Thor inhale sharply.

“That oaf is our father—

“Your father,” Loki corrected. “So, did he or did he not?”

“This is not about the Allfather, Loki,” Thor tried to explain, hoping his brother would listen. “This is about someone entirely different.”

“Who then?” Loki asked. The chains clinked slightly as he moved. Loki smiled wickedly. “Is it your Jane? Or your friends? Hm?” Thor frowned at Loki.

“This is about Lady (Y/N),” Thor said. Loki froze. The wicked smile deteriorated and anger grew in its place. His nostrils flared. His eyes stared daggers at him.

“What about Lady (Y/N)?” Loki spat. “Do you wish for me to remind you of what I know? Is that why you brought me here? So you can show your little friends how everything is my fault again? Do you wish to gloat how your lover is safe and sound while—

“She is alive, Loki,” Thor cut in.


“(Y/N) is alive,” Thor pointed to the room behind him. Behind a glass wall lay (Y/N). Her hair spread out on the pillow. She breathed steadily, and all cuts seemed to be healed. Her body covered in blankets.

“I found her during this last mission,” Thor explained, hoping to ease the shock. “I don’t know how she got there, but she was there. Loki, she was so cold. Her whole body was ice.” Loki stopped all talking at once. His breathing hitched, and he started walking towards the glass wall. He dragged the chains behind him and studied her. The way she slept, the way she breathed, her hair, her hands, everything. Tears formed in his eyes.

“Thor,” Loki said in a low voice. “I may have caused you pain in the past, even threaten your loved ones, but this? This is cruel. This is a very cruel trick, brother.”

“This is no trick.”

“She died, Thor!” Loki shouted at him. “(Y/N) was murdered! She was taken from her safe abode and was murdered because of me! I failed! This was Thanos’ punishment! I failed him! I murdered her!” Loki’s crying hushed everyone around them.

“Loki,” Thor started. “I thought she died too, but look at her. That is her. I know it is. We found her during a mission. She is alive. I assure you that is her in there.” Thor took his brother’s shoulder and massaged it. Loki pressed his forehead against the glass.

“I have to know. I need to make sure it’s her, please,” Thor looked at Tony and Steve for clearance. Steve immediately nodded his head. Tony exhaled.

“Let him in, Tony,” Pepper said quietly behind him. Tony nodded his head as well, giving in to the pressure. Thor escorted Loki into the room. They both stepped carefully closer to her bed. A steady beep of the heart monitor and Loki’s nervous breathing were the only things that could be heard. He reached the side of her bed, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. After the gentle touch, Loki put his hand down. His lip quivered, and suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore. Loki broke down over her, sobbing hard.

Title: A Matter of Opinion

Word Count: 6660

Summary: Harry and Draco have been together for over a decade with a life of happiness and memories to look back upon, but when one story in the Prophet questions their relationship, Draco finds the insecurity it weaves threatening to destroy everything they’ve built.

A/N: Much love and thanks to @sprout2012 & @drarrysgirl who always answer my inane questions at all hours about Britishisms and to @justanotherdrarryblog & @sprout2012 for giving it a read through and helping me with my own worries over it.

I also feels like it bares mentioning this is a little different than what I usually write and more angsty…but I promise it ends ok.

Draco smiles to himself as he moves around the kitchen quietly.  The early morning light is just beginning to filter through the kitchen window, casting an almost eerie glow upon the room.  Draco finds it comforting somehow.  He’s always been an early riser, preferring to wake before the sun is up.  He doesn’t know why but he gets a lot of satisfaction in watching the sun come up over the horizon.

With a flick of his wand the kettle begins to boil as he goes about making two cups of tea.  He does it almost on auto-pilot, so used to their morning routine he doesn’t even need to think as he takes down the glass jar of his favorite loose leaf earl grey before grabbing the dingy paper box of Tetley tea bags next to it that Harry insists on drinking despite all of Draco’s attempts at more exposure to a proper cup of tea over the years.  There was a time he would’ve sneered at having to make such a common cup of tea, but now he finds himself smiling with fondness as he drops the tea bag into the cup before pouring in the boiling water.

When Harry stumbles into the kitchen a few minutes later Draco already has his tea on the table and his crumpets toasting.  He hands the Prophet to Harry wordlessly, dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head as he moves to take the seat opposite.  He knows better than to talk to Harry this early, at least not before Harry has basically inhaled his overly sweet cup of too strong tea.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Harry grumbles, throwing the paper down and rubbing his face with his hands.  "S'too early for that rubbish.“  He pushes the paper across the table at Draco as he butters his crumpet.

Draco doesn’t usually read the Prophet.  He gave it up years ago when he and Harry had first started dating.  He had finally gotten so sick of the ludicrous stories published about them which had ranged from ridiculous guesses at what they did on dates (or after dates), to slanderous articles about every one of Draco’s most shameful moments until he’d finally reached his breaking point and stopped reading the papers at all.  Besides, Harry likes to remind him that it is his duty as an Auror to stay on top of current news and events so he always tells Draco anything relevant he needs to know anyway.  

"What’s got you so grumpy?” Draco asks with a laugh, finding the frown on Harry’s face more endearing than should be allowed for someone who rather looks a bit like he might punch the next person who talks to him.  He thinks he must be deranged for finding the other man’s generally horrible morning disposition and atrocious bed hair adorable.

“It’s that god awful fundraiser.”

Draco raises an eyebrow as he picks up the Prophet out of morbid curiosity.  A sliver of surprise goes through him at the massive photo of Harry covering the entire front page of the paper.  The photographer managed to get a good shot from Harry’s Auror training session last week; his eyes are ablaze with determination and power.   The Harry in the photo shoots off a string of defensive spells in rapid succession before turning to mock glare at whoever is taking the photo before cracking a rare smile.  Draco thinks whichever photographer managed to get that shot must’ve wet themselves with excitement.  

“I’m not sure what’s so bad about this.  I’d take you home and fuck you.”
His words make Harry crack a smile from behind his cup of tea as he wandlessly sends a tea towel flying across the room to smack Draco square in the face.

“Oi, Potter.  I thought we agreed you weren’t to use wandless magic on me."  Draco pulls the towel off his face and chucks it back at Harry.

"That’s not what you said last week when I had my tongue up your arse and-”

“Hush you.  Besides I really don’t see whats so bad about this.  You knew they were going to use your photo for the fundraiser.  Robards told you so just last week.”

“Yes, well no one said it was going to cover the entire front page of the Prophet.  No one wants to see a photo of me that big first thing in the morning.”

Draco rolls his eyes but manages to refrain from stating the obvious; that he’s quite positive that at least half of the Wizarding population would probably give their first born child to see Harry first thing in the morning.  He knows even all these years later that Harry is still incredibly uncomfortable with the fascination the Wizarding World still seems to have with him, which somehow seems to magnify as the years pass instead of subside.

“Fuck, is it almost six thirty already?  I’m gonna be late!” Harry suddenly yells, snatching his last crumpet off the table before pressing a hurried kiss to Draco’s lips.  

Draco licks his lips in appreciation tasting the sweet and savory mix of jam and butter as Harry apparates out of the kitchen with a resounding crack.  Draco is about to set the Prophet down when a small headline catches his eyes at the very bottom of the paper.


Keep reading

Undo (M)

Character / Genre: Min Yoongi x oc (Yoongi’s POV) | Angst, Smut/Mature content | 12,369 words

Summary: You were his soulmate, that part he knew well. Until one day he didn’t want you anymore. He couldn’t, when all he could see from you was light and all he felt within himself was darkness. Your love gone cold as he retreated from you, burying himself deep in the dark. But what happened when Yoongi had to watch you start over with somebody else, when Yoongi let his selfishness gain control on him of you.

Prompts: “Just say the words, and I am fully yours.”

a/n: Highly inspired by The 1975′s Somebody Else (along with the video, of course), which I wasn’t able to stop listening to when I started writing this. With the addition of me being wrecked with emotions from Yoongi’s mixtape in the middle of editing the whole fic.

Warning: Involving infidelity, affair. Some usage of cursing words (more than I even use in real life, to be honest), drinking, and graphic smut (still decent, I promise hope^^)

== Other POVs: Faded (Y/N’s), Deep End (Jia’s) ==

Originally posted by bangtan-so-far

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

the outsider saying "new void who dis" at corvo for ignoring him for 15 years

Corvo returns to Dunwall Tower with Emily to discover that all of Jessamine’s belongings have been removed. Personal audiographs, journals, and old drawings by Emily have been destroyed when Burrows moved in. What intimate touch of hers that would have remained after death is gone, leaving the aging Lord Protector feeling far more alone than before. All that remains untouched is their secret room in the corner of the Tower, seeking refuge when the weight of his responsibilities and worries gnaw.

By the end of the month, Corvo has brought The Outsider into this small haven, building a shrine. He doesn’t seek out the stereotypical cloths of purple and red to hang across. He uses his old Lord Protector’s uniform, frayed and battered through his travels and trials. He leaves the gathered runes and bone charms he has collected on the shrine’s surface, listening to them sing in four-part harmony. Often, The Outsider will appear, the two of them filling the room with idle reflections or just Corvo sharing his never-ending worries raising Emily on his own.

Corvo always asks why The Outsider even bothered to show up, now that his story has ended.

The Outsider always replies that Corvo is interesting, never divulging anything more past that.

Keep reading

[Tim is sitting on the floor, in the dark, surrounded by paper and what looks like the contents of an entire coffeehouse. Harper enters and turns on the light]

Harper(Looking around and trying to understand what she’s seeing): …Um? Tim?

Tim(Staring unblinking into The Void): Harper, how old do you think I am?

Harper(Hazarding a guess more to humor him than anything else): Fifteen? Dude, these all nighters have to stop, it’s like, 3 A.M-

Tim(Turning to her with what looks like great difficulty): I’m sixteen. And do you know how long I’ve been sixteen for?

Harper: I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand what you’re-

Tim: No, you wouldn’t, would you? You haven’t been here long enough to notice. Time stands still here. Oh, something passes, but it’s not real time. They can’t create real time.

Harper(Nodding slowly and choosing not to ask who ‘they’ are): Uh huh. Hey, uh, just out of curiosity, nothing at all to do with you sounding like even more of a conspiracy freak than usual, did you drink ALL of these? Because I’m pretty sure that amount of caffeine is fatal for anything smaller than a water buffalo and-

Tim(Making an effort to smile): I’ve been sixteen since 2003.

Harper: …Oh?

Tim(Giving up on smiling to lie face down on the floor): It was bad enough the first year. 

Heaven Scent Chapter One

Heaven Scent (1/?) | Dan Howell rarely leaves the house unless he has too, too socially awkward to function normally around other people, and generally making his only friends through Louise, a sweet beta who took him under her wing a few years back when they were both still in college. It’s no surprise, then, that the omega has yet to find a mate, despite craving one rather a lot. It’s not until he attends Louise’s birthday party and gets accidentally-on-purpose set up with an attractive alpha named Phil Lester who smells absolutely heavenly that Dan starts to fall into a proper romance, complete with courting and scenting and the like. | Phan | Mature | A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse fic), Fluff, Getting Together, Eventual Smut, Courting | 6,931 Words this chapter

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

For the first time in a really long time, I’ve actually wanted to attempt writing a chaptered fic on my own with an idea that I’ve been in love with since time began, practically. Omegaverse fics are some of my favorites in the world, and the trope has intrigued me for just about as long as it’s been around - which is to say, forever, in fandom years. I’ve never particularly cared for the non-con esque sexual lives often built up in a/b/o fics however, nor have I particularly cared for the gender dynamics that often paint the alphas as hyper-high class characters who can and will abuse omegas, who are considered the hyper-lower classes. A lot of the a/b/o dynamics I’ve seen built up in fandoms over the years don’t feel particularly true, to me, of what a/b/o should or could be, especially as it’s based around animal mating cycles for the trope.

Therefore, I decided I wanted to completely and utterly throw the trope onto its head and create something entirely different to what I most often see in most fandoms. I was strongly inspired by the yuri on ice fandom interpretation of a/b/o fics, as well as by @phandommother, who this entire fic is dedicated too, in creating this chaptered series that I’ve already nearly finished writing. The three “sexes” in this fic are referred to as “secondary sexes” and while each secondary sex is sometimes ruled by specific instincts that a/b/o characters are known for, any and all sexes can mate with each other and produce kits. They all stand on equal ground in terms of hierarchy, in this fic, and while stereotypes exist, they don’t rule the story. As the story continues forward, more of their world will be explained to the reader.

I really hope you guys enjoy the world I’ve spent so many hours creating now, and please enjoy chapter one <3 :) Updates will be on Wednesday’s, though this chapter has gone up early on a Tuesday night hahaa.

Special thanks and love goes to @botanistlester who let me rant about this idea to her for hours and encouraged me to create this story, and for beta’ing reading for me as she always does.


Chapter One

Keep reading

Burden Of Love: Clay Appuzzo


In the time of 1974, you find yourself alone and on the streets of Los Angeles. Without a home or a penny to your name you happen to stumble on the club known as “Goldie’s.” it wasnt until you meet the eyes of Clay Appuzzo, the charming and struggling comedian - that you thought you could get more in life. Full of heartbreak, passion, and loss - Falling in love with Clay Appuzzo was the greatest adventure you had been waiting for.


Clay Appuzzo (I’m Dying Up Here) x Reader

Smoking, Cursing, Homeless situation, Fluff, & Smut.

as of now this is only a one shot. but we’ll see… ;)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him... What would he do?

Notes from Mod Bonnie 

Trying something a bit new as a palate-cleanser, lads and lasses! 

Please do note that I am blissfully, unapologetically putting next-to-no effort into making this historically accurate. Soooo, if you’re in a military history/fact-checking/date-referencing mood… best take those efforts elsewhere ;D 

Hope you enjoy! 

The Last All-Clear 

September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail 

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

17 September

Daytime rotation today.

No new battle casualties & all quiet in the distance, thank God. 

Did tend M. Danton (scored on the arm w/ rusted nail; antibiotics & sterile bandage to finish; strict instructions to report in 3 days for follow-up). 

A strange sort, and no two ways about it. 

“Claire—darling—dearest—You know how much I ADORE you, don’t you?

I was already smirking—fondly, but smirking nonetheless—by the time I turned from restocking the supply cabinets for tomorrow. “How much do you adore me, Nance?”

“So much that I’ll do absolutely any of your chores—ALL your chores!!—for a week if you’ll go tend Danton??”

Danton? The frenchman?” A glance revealed a familiar set of hunched shoulders (spilled over with filthy black hair) just visible through the cracked partition of the infirmary tent. “What’s happened to him?”

“Nothing serious. Says he got scraped by a nail or screw or something this morning and needs to be cleaned up a bit, but oh, please, Claire??” Nancy whined, grabbing both my hands in hers. “I know you were supposed to go off-duty at eight and it’s nine-thirty already but puh-LEASE will you take ten minutes before you go and be the one to tend him?? Please-please-pl—” 

“Good Lord, no need to go into a tizzy about it,” I laughed, a bit taken aback by how truly distraught she seemed. “Surely the man doesn’t bite!” Though in truth, I didn’t know that for certain.

I’d never spoken to him, nor even so much as looked him in the eye, but Danton—was his first name even known?— was a legend in camp. He’d joined the company a month or two ago, they said, one of the men-of-all-work that alternately served as laborer, orderly, handyman, gravedigger, or any other role requiring a strong back. Though I’d always gotten the sense he was past his prime, from the state of his clothing and posture and hygiene, a strong back Danton did have, and whatever his age might be, he was indispensable.  The camp always had to be ready to go into action, or even pick up and move entirely at a moment’s notice. In this chaotic wartime reality, with life and death so often on the line, a spare set of hands was always needful. 

There were a dozen such men in camp, all of them civilian frenchmen, but Danton was the only one people seemed to talk about; which was quite the irony, given that he was a man of notoriously few words. He kept always to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, gruffly and shortly when he was, crossing the verge of sheer bad-temperedness more often than not. Rooms tended to shift to low whispers when Danton entered, if not empty entirely.

It didn’t seem to bother him. The entirety of my experience with the man consisted of glimpses from across the camp or mess-hall. Yet, even that barest of acquaintance was enough to have convinced me that the unsmiling, grubby Danton—with his hunched shoulders, with that profoundly-unkempt black hair and drooping cap that together hid his eyes—wished to be left alone. 

My skin had prickled, though, whenever I had studied him, crawling with something I couldn’t quite put into words or even—

“He gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies!!” Nancy summarized neatly in a whisper. “I can’t do it, I just can’t! Anything you ask, Claire, and it’s done, but PLEASE be a brick and get me out of this??”

I would have agreed in any case—if for nothing more than to satisfy my own slightly-morbid curiosity— but I had absolutely no qualms over letting Nancy take my bedpan duties for a week out of the bargain.

….and surely the man DIDN’T bite?

“Monsieur Danton?”

He JUMPED as though shot, and I startled so violently (absurdly searching for elongated canines in the momentary panic) that I swore and dropped my tray, the bowl, cloth, and other impedimenta clattering and scattering all over the floor with great metallic crashes.

I was utterly mortified, positively dove to my hands and knees to gather the scattered supplies and hide my face, and then the sensation doubled to realize that the frenchman was on the ground beside me. I had only enough time to notice the juxtaposition of the fine leather glove on his left hand with the wretched filth of his clothing before he was placing the last item on the tray. “Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to smile in thanks, and caught a momentary glimpse of vivid blue eyes before he recoiled, leaping to his feet and busying himself with getting the tray on the table. 

Shy, whatever else he might be. 

“Well, we’re off to a bumpy start, sol—Sir,” I managed with a weak laugh as I got to my feet, throwing myself fully into that ‘jovial commanding-officer’ character that had weathered many an awkward encounter in my career to-date. My usual script felt a little bereft without the useful address of ’soldier.’ “I’m Nurse Randall,” I said more briskly, clearing my throat with a smile.  “I’m told you need medical attention for your arm?”

He rolled up his sleeve without so much as a word. Very well, down to busin—

“Good LORD! I gasped, stepping forward and reaching for the arm, then pushing him down into the chair. Not merely a scrape: it was a slash, a wicked, deep one, about two inches long, just below the right elbow. “This needs stitches! What the bloody hell happened?” 

No answer. 

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I said more kindly in French, “Monsieur, will you tell me what happened to your arm?

No nod. No grunt. The brute didn’t bother even to raise his chin from his chest. 

No language barrier, then: just an arse.  

I reached for the antiseptic, my nostrils flaring. “Will you look at the state of this?” The blood had long since clotted, but the wound clearly hadn’t been washed, let alone sterilized. “Why in God’s name didn’t you come and get help for it right away?


“Excuse me, I am TALKING to you,” I snapped, choosing to stick with French for castigation as I prepared the suturing supplies. “Why didn’t you bother coming for help unt—?”

“Do what’s-must to prevent the festering and I’ll be going, yes?” he snapped back with such venom that I would have gasped if I weren’t so grounded in pique. 

So: he was both capable of speech and every bit as ill-tempered for it.  Lord, give me the strength not to SLAP this man. I bit my tongue and cleansed the wound in icy silence.

“Far from home?” I blurted testily, when the tension became too insufferable even for me. 

His head snapped up.

Your accent,” I clarified as I reached for a clean cloth, genuinely curious despite my ire, “—your syntax. It’s not a standard dialect…nor like the other frenchmen in camp, I think?” 


I had about an ounce of pleasantness left in me and I scraped it up to force a smile. “Grow up in the country, eh?”


“…Care to share where?” 


“Well, you’re just a blooming basket of violet-scented rainbows, aren’t you?” I snapped in English. “Hold bloody still, this will hurt and you’ll deserve every blasted bit of it.” I gritted my teeth and swore under my breath as I began stitching, in absolutely no mood for grumpy man-children. “Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST.”

By complete chance, standing bent over his arm as I began to stitch, I happened to be looking down at his mouth as I said it. To my absolute gobsmacked surprise, I saw a smile twitching at the corners, small and restrained, as though he were trying very much not to show it, but clear as day: a tiny smile verging on a grin. 

Well…! Not a *complete* automaton, then. 

I was taken still further aback when the mouth opened and said quietly in French without looking up, “Forgive me, please, Madame. I do not mean you ill.” The tone told me he was being genuine.  “It is only that I do not very much like—speaking.

“It’s good to work at things you don’t like doing,” I said, fixing what I could see of his face with a sardonic glare between stitches, but trying not to smile. “Builds character.”  

Another infinitesimal twitch of the lips before he dropped his head, strings of wavy black hair hiding his features entirely. “It is—a small bit more easy to manage, in French.”  

We’ll stick with the Français then,” I said, letting a smile show in my voice.

I finished the stitching and sterilization in a more comfortable silence. He took the hypodermic needle without so much as a wince, though I could see him watching it intently, sternly almost, as though not entirely sure what to make of it. From the country, indeed. 

You’re so much younger than I would have supposed.” 

“…I beg your pardon, Madame?” 

I could hardly fault him for being taken aback, as I had blurted it with absolutely no thought for context, let alone grace. I recovered as best I could, all things considered, focusing over-intently on wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “From a distance, I had assumed you to be far older.”

Honestly, for a man with such a beard and posture, that default manner that could charitably be described as cantankerous, it was alarming to find that not only was he not middle-aged, but he couldn’t possibly be older than— 

“Thirty? At most?”

Thereabouts.” After a pause, he added with a shrug. “I am far older in spirit, Madame.”  

I made him promise to come see me in a few days so I could see how the healing was progressing and give him more antibiotic if need be. He nodded, then stood and shrugged back into his coat (Lord, was he huge), and was just beginning to move toward the doorway, when—

“Are you well-treated here, M. Danton?”  Why could I not keep my bloody mouth shut tonight??

“Why is it that you ask such a question of me, Madame?” Though I still could barely see his face through the hair, I could hear the wariness in his voice. 

“You just seem…” I struggled to find the word in French, to express my concern without giving offense. “…..hunted.” 

Yes, a beast at bay. That’s what I had discerned and yet been unable to name in those vague, distant glances across camp: the utter wrongness in the sight of a man so tall and strong keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact, as though cowering before an invisible blow. Then there was this slash to the arm…

He caught me looking at the bandage, so I summoned my courage enough to ask directly, “Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?” 

No.” He relaxed, and I saw his throat muscles working.  “No, it truly was a rusted nail; an accident, entirely my own.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the first statement. “And my manners and ways are mine as well, Madame. Of my own choosing, I mean to say. Better, it is, that I keep to myself.

There was nothing morose in the way he said it, nothing maudlin or self-pitying.

 ….but it still was so very sad. 

Nonetheless,” he added quite suddenly, one hand on the tent flap, “I thank you for having asked.” He gave a graceful bow and said in heavily-accented English before vanishing off into the night: “You ‘ave a kind ‘eart, Nurse Randall.”

Strange, yes. But not as bad as all that. 


5 1 9

Ye touched me, today, mo nighean donn. 

Spoke to me. Looked at me. Stopped my beating heart. 

You were supposed to go off-duty at eight. I let that damned wound go untended all the day because I was waiting for when I kent you’d be away and abed. I couldn’t take the chance of it being you. God above knows I meant for us never once to come face-to-face in this camp.

More than a year since I ran up the hill after ye and the world went black; more than a year of trying to find my way in your world; of trying to find youthese last months of staying hidden in plain sight that ye never should see my face…. All undone by a rusted nail and your damned heedless self working at all hours instead of taking to your damned bed. And yet…. ye always did see fit to undermine my plans, my wife. Mo ghraidh. 

….Lord, and you’re so young, Sorcha; so heartbreakingly young, and it makes me want to weep. And yet I weep still more to have witnessed with my own eyes and ears that you’re exactly the same. Even now, at three-and-twenty, you’ve the same fire that I myself have known in you, that same brilliance and compassion and—


Oh, God, Claire. 

From a distance, keeping to my duties, I have been able to separate myself from it all; keep myself and my thoughts in check by mere will, knowing that it is my place only to watch over you, never in any circumstance to know you or seek you out.  But so close to ye today, mo chridhe, SO CLOSE with you touching me, that deepest part of yourself reaching out to heal and care for me, even in disguise, even though ye dinna yet know me— It took all my strength not to take ye in my arms and crush you to my heart.

I long for you, mo nighean donn. I long for my wife; to hold ye again; to speak all my heart to ye. My truest friend. 

And yet, beyond longing, there is that uttermost of terrors that fills me day and night. 

I wait for this war to end—this war of unspeakable horrors, the like of which I could never have fathomed—and still I dread the sounding of that last all-clear. At least here, now (and for three years more, at the least) I have a place in your world. I can watch over ye, see your face each and every day, if only for a moment from afar, and be able to close my eyes at night only because I ken that you are safe. 

But when the fighting has ceased, when ye leave France, I shall have to bid you yet another farewell….silently, this time, unseen….and hope that in April of 1948—

Pray with all my soul that you and the bairn make it to April of 1948. 

That you won’t be— That you haven’t already been—? or that you aren’t now—?

Lost among the years. As I have been.  

Imagine Dean Finding Your Sketchbook...

Word Count: Around 2500

Warnings: None other than fluff :)

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/N: This one really ran away from me, it was supposed to be kind of short…but enjoy! Maybe this will appease y’all while I work on the new part of Through the Flames

***This fic is pretty thrown together, I just wanted to give you guys something since it takes me such a long ass time to update

Summary: The reader has a sketchbook full of drawings of Dean. After a hunt, to the reader’s horror and embarrassment, she finds Dean with his nose in her sketchbook.

There was never much privacy in your life with the Winchesters. Every time you turned around one of them was always right there. On most days, that wasn’t a bad thing- especially on hunts. You knew they’d always have your back, that you were never alone. It was comforting really, comforting on those days that you needed someone when everything seemed to go wrong. Sam always had kind words of advice and assurance and Dean wouldn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you. You couldn’t help but love the fact that they were always there.

You also couldn’t help but hate the fact that they were always there. You’d started to develop a kind of sixth sense whenever one of them was nearby, you could just feel them lurking. It was more of Dean than anything, Sam knew enough to let you be.

Dean loved to hover. You decided that this was because he was such a mother hen, but you eventually came to another conclusion. Dean Winchester was sometimes too curious for your liking. You figured that at some point he’d learn his lesson because, as you had pointed out to him more than once- curiosity killed the cat.

As annoying as it could be at times, he wasn’t hurting anyone when he would lean over your shoulder to see what you were watching on Sam’s laptop. The one time he had followed you to yoga class to see where you’d been disappearing to all week wasn’t even that big of a deal either. Despite the fact that he could have just asked you, you dropped it and let him go with nothing more than a whack with your yoga mat.

Keep reading

as free as [his] hair

so @thesschesthair committed the ultimate sin today and removed all of Killian’s hair. (hey @killian-whump, you’re guilty, too ;P )

so I had to fix it: let’s give him MORE HAIR (but not, like, hirsuteness or anything crazy). 1.3k of unbeta’d fluff (almost literally) [title from “Hair” by Lady Gaga]

She didn’t notice it at first—not until the day she was trying to tell her mom about Killian’s elf ears.

“Just look at them!” Emma exclaimed, pointing across Granny’s to where he stood at the counter fetching drinks. But his hair covered up the pointed tips, and that’s when she realized that it was longer than it had been in a long time; probably not since their return from the Underworld.

Her mother told her she believed her, but Emma spent the rest of the meal wondering at Killian’s choice of hairstyle. She’d never tell him how to wear it, of course, but she wondered if it hinted at anything emotionally, though he hadn’t been acting out of the ordinary.

It became something she kept on silent observation, figuring commentary might make him self-conscious. But it was definitely getting longer, and it almost felt thicker whenever her fingers inevitably found their way into it at more intimate times. (And, if she wasn’t wrong, so did his chest hair. There wasn’t more of it, necessarily—it still  decorated his pecs in the same way, trailing down just the center of his stomach—but he just seemed extra…huggable lately. Like a teddy bear. But she’d absolutely NEVER tell him that.)

She did finally have to say something after hearing him huff for the umpteenth time when having to pushing his fringe from his face while prepping dinner.

“You know, I have probably have a headband somewhere you could borrow…or a hair tie,” she suggested, pushing his locks from his face and running her hand back through his coif, to where it ended near the base of his neck.

“Are you suggesting we share hair accessories in addition to the kohl we already both use?” he proposed in reply, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Wait—you’re the reason I keep running out of eyeliner?” His wink was the only answer she received but it was enough to distract her from her initial comment—until a few days later, when he asked for her help in pulling his hair back into a ponytail. (She didn’t say anything, but may have taken to playing with the little nub of hair whenever the opportunity presented itself.)

She figured, at some point, he’d want to get it cut, but still it grew. And she knew it wasn’t the first time he’d worn his hair pulled back—she’d seen the ribbons on his ship—but figured that he might get tired of having to have her put it up every day. Of course, she didn’t mind doing it, seeing as it wasn’t often she got the chance to pamper him when he did so much for her, but still—it was a little surprising.

(Though not as surprising as seeing her dad’s full head of curls that he probably hadn’t sported since he was a kid.)

So she continued to be merely amused by it, until the day she was searching for an extra bottle of body wash in the bathroom cupboard and found an odd, old-fashioned bottle hiding with the shaving cream. It definitely wasn’t hers, and given the nature of liquids in weird vials in this town, she grew worried.

“Killian, is this yours?” she asked him as she went downstairs, interrupting him reading. She didn’t think it was his, but figured she should cover her bases before calling Regina—though her thumb was already hovering over the mayor’s name on her phone.

Killian looked up from his book and then, to her shock, blanched when he saw what she held. He swallowed thickly before replying, “Oh, you found that.”

Keep reading

Kidgetober day 10 & 11

Here it goes I’m going to rant!

Flower Shop Au

Pidge’s family owns a flower shop: Holt’s floral shop. Pidge’s mom wants her to take over the family business in the future, yet Pidge isn’t very interested in the flowers aspect of the business; sure she can handle managing the business accounts, orders, events, but flower arranging isn’t her thing.

Now Keith on the other hand hates the business aspect of his family’s flower shop: Petals of Marmora. Even if he isn’t their biological son, both Thace and Kolivan want him to take over the shop. All he wants is to be left a lone and take care of the flowers, arrange them, send them off. He doesn’t like dealing with clients changing their minds on what their wedding bouquet should be…or getting events booked… that’s his parents job.

Now both owners of these flower shops are very passionate about their business. Keith’s family moves near where Pidge lives, and his family happens to get their shop across the street from the Holt’s Flower shop.

Colleen sends Pidge to check out the competition. Pidge drags herself to the shop and has to buy flowers, cuz why would you go to a flower shop and not buy anything, that’s just rude. When she enters the shop she meets Keith. She asks questions about the shop and what not, buys the flowers, and goes back home.

A few days later, while Keith was walking to his family’s shop, he sees Pidge working at the Holt’s Flower Shop. So he goes in, out of curiosity.

“why would you buy flowers across the street if you work at a flower shop?” 

Embarrassed Pidge tells Keith about checking out the competition. “My mom is very competitive..and seeing another flower shop across the know.” They both start hanging out, and Pidge starts to learn about flowers all because Keith likes to communicate with her through them. They flirt through the language of flowers, and they fall for each other.

Meanwhile their parents are in a competitive streak, its more comical than anything. Trying to get clients, trying to make their flower shop stand out. Colleen thinks Keith is just an employee from the flower shop, the same with Kolivan thinking Pidge is an employee at Holt’s flower shop.

one day Colleen goes to Kolivan’s shop to end their ridiculous war, and in the middle of their conversation, Pidge walks in and gives Keith a kiss…and that’s when both parents realized that their children were dating.

“well since our children are in a relationship…” Kolivan begins.

“and we’ll eventually become family…truce?” Colleen says.

Now Kolivan and Collen joined together to make plans for Keith and Pidge’s wedding and the future of their joint flower shop.

“He/I hasn’t/haven’t proposed!”

Imagine Merle having enough of you being utterly oblivious to his feelings for you

(Just a little fluffy request for Merle :3 I’ve been having some writer’s block lately but listening to music and thinking about Merle helped me get through it xD Sorry if it’s short but I tried my best! Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owners.)

Laying in his tent, Merle stared at the starry sky through it’s see-through roof and couldn’t stop smiling.

He thought to himself over several nights before as to why he felt so happy at the end of a tiring day but soon enough came to an obvious conclusion, you.

You were the reason that made his heart feel so full and at ease during a time of chaos and crisis. He knew it was your wit and kindness that would make him get out of breath at the thought of you and just couldn’t believe you were making him feel like a little boy with a crush all over again.

He liked your fearlessness, the way you had no problem putting him in his place with the contrast of your gentleness whenever he got himself in danger, it all made him weak for you.

Your eyes and lips as you’d look at him was enough to make him fantasize about you, truly nearly everything about you he wanted for himself.

The only problem, he thought and it made him frown a little, was that you were utterly oblivious when it came to his flirting, even worse any kind of signal from him didn’t seem to affect you at all.

Each time he’d look over at you, his genuine smile would come out, multiple times a day it would happen, he thought you would knew from that gesture but apparently not at all.

He’d also keep staying by your side and talking to you, thinking you should feel it from the way he would act around you but nothing but still you didn’t seem to notice anything.

Even everyone else around had seem to pick up on him and oddly enough, they seem to accept it and let it all happen seeing all his true efforts to be kind and loving to you, but you’d just laugh him off or treat him like any other of your friends, and that wasn’t at all the result his heart wanted.

At this point, he was so frustrated and so hung up on you, he let out a loud sigh, frowning, and was crossing his arms tightly to grip onto his sleeping bag to himself.

He grumbled over it and it started to bother Daryl that was laying just right beside him. He sighed as well and turned over, half awake and asleep.

“What again? Aren’t you supposed to sleep already?”

“Nothing, Darylina! Mind your own business!”

He was just so annoyed by your ignorance he let it sip out to his younger brother, again. It happened so often, Daryl would usually just turn back to his side and go back to sleep, letting his brother wait in the night by himself but this time he had enough as well.

He couldn’t stand this endless desperation coming from him and wasn’t going to let it go either.

“No! Not until you get your shit together…Damn it Merle…Are really that into Y/N…”

Merle got quiet, thinking about his words and tried to be nonchalant about it but came out rather adamant about his feelings for you.

“What kind of question is that…Of course I am…She’s the only one that gets me…The only one that makes me laugh and gets me hard at the same time!”

Daryl groaned in disgust to those words and said, “Obviously not…”

At those words, Merle glared over at Daryl, pouting in disgust to what he just said. The younger man shrugged and got cozier in his sleeping bag.

“Look I didn’t mean it to piss you off…I was just saying Y/N…Is the type of girl you need to be direct with…”

Merle’s face went sour and he scoffed, listening to his brother speaking.

“What do you know about girls Darylina…If anything I-”

“Well I know Y/N…”

At that Merle shut his mouth up and realized that he wasn’t wrong at all. You and Daryl hung out together so much he couldn’t deny he got envious of your friendship at some point.

“And from the way she takes things…you gotta be blunt with her! So stop messing around and trying to get her to ask you first…You ain’t that special! If you want her then go get her! Now let me sleep in peace…”

They both looked away from one another and finally Merle understood he was at an end. He was going to have to make himself weak for you and hopefully get you to understand him.


The sun shined through your tent and lazily you started to get prepared for the day. Quickly, you changed yourself into some other clothes and started packing in order to start moving forward for the day.

You felt sudden and sharp thuds rumbling through the ground and wonder as to whose footsteps could be so heavy at such an early morning.

A short and ragged breath could be heard on the outside, and you felt like you knew who it was. You got closer to your zipped door but suddenly, Merle spoke.

“Y/N?! You awake?!”

His tone and was sharp and direct, sounding as if he had a problem against you. He was tapping his toe and starting to feel his stomach forming a knot.

He was nervous as hell, he was acting out out of impulse again but this time it was for something serious and he could feel it eating at him. The thought of you rejecting him or laughing him off and making fun of him, actually scared him.

He knew if you would turn him away it would break him apart and that feeling was already starting to form within him.

It stunned you to hear him so early in the morning, considering he’d usually wake up in the afternoon once everyone was packed and ready.

You let out your surprise and stuttered at the unexpected request.

“Oh…Merle?! Euh…Yeah! Yeah, i’m awake why…”

“C-Can you come out? And meet me…It’s important…”

Your brows furrowed at the word “important” and couldn’t deny that your curiosity had been more than piqued. Quickly, you tried to shove everything in your bag.

“S-sure…Just hold-”

“No! Now…Please I need to get this damn thing off my chest…”

He was getting sweaty and not from the morning heat or anything, it was out of pure nervousness. Wiping his sweat off his forehead, he rested his hands on his waist, still trying to look imposing for your sake.

The sound of the tent’s zipper opening up, only seemed to echo loudly at that moment and made him swallow the lump in his throat, upon realizing how close he was going to get to his little moment.

His heart was racing and as your head peered out, he felt like running out of air. He turned away to calm himself down, closing his eyes and whispering under his breath to reassure himself.

“It’s alright…It’s ok…It’ll be all good…If she ain’t want you, Merle, it’s fine! I don’t need her…”

Too busy to even notice you, he jumped at the feeling of your warm hand tapping his shoulder.

“Oh Lord! Y/N, you scared me shitless here! What the hell?!”

You wanted to burst in laughter to have startled him so easily but held it in as much as you could for his dignity.

“Sorry about that…So what was it that you wanted to “get off your chest”“

As you talked, he completely zoned out, staring at you and hearing your soft voice, had amazed him and the simple fact of being the first to see you so early in the morning was enough to make his heart flutter.

It wasn’t something he ever felt and he knew he wouldn’t be to find it anywhere else but by your side. He quickly turned away from you, hiding his embarrassment and biting his damn tongue before to prepare himself for what he was going to say.

“Just follow me…”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell you right there with everyone that could hear him being so soft, still he had a reputation to maintain he thought so it was better to talk to you in private.

It really threw you off to hear him ask for to talk in private but nonetheless you trailed behind him as he moved forward.


He walked into the woods at a steady yet fast pace, in hopes to get there as soon as he could.

Once the calming breeze could be heard, he stopped himself and took a few deep breaths. He turned to look at you and ended up bumping into you as you had followed him so closely.

His reflex made him catch you right before anything could happen and just like that, you both stared at each other in the eyes.

He was about to faint at that point and he just was fighting through his words to find the right things to say, only to remind himself of how clueless you were to him.

That thought made his desire for you to know his feelings for you even stronger and suddenly his nervousness subsided, his grip on you tightened and he pulled you even closer to him.

Glaring down at you, he let himself loose.

“You…I gave you so many damn hints so you can notice…But you ain’t ever…Why didn’t you?!”

Confusion struck you again and truly wondered as to what was happening, why was he holding you so tight, why was he his close and why did he had to look so damn hot, you thought.

From your angle, you could see the inside of his shirt and couldn’t stop blushing and looking away but still your eyes came back on him. It truly mad you question yourself on whether you liked him strictly as a friend or wanted more.

As you looked up at him, he shook his head, repeating his question.

“Why didn’t you ever?! I mean I really only got you on my mind here?! Is that hard to notice?!”

He was starting to get red, his lips were quivering in uncertainty and he truly looked defeated and lost. He looked less and less like a sex beast and started to resemble a disappointed kid.

It honestly made you smile and let out a chuckle to see him that way over something about you not noticing him? Really, you weren’t paying much attention to his words and his whole body and presence were all way too distracting so up close.

He gripped you even tighter and was growling out of frustration at this point. You were laughing again and

“I’m serious…Can’t you read my damn eyes! I’m practically being a bitch for you! Showing off how I like you! Why don’t you feel it? I mean my face is so obvious! It can’t be anymore obvious than this! Are you even listening?!”

He gave you a slight shake and you just stared at him stunned from what he just admitted. You were speechless, how couldn’t you have figured it out, you thought.

He was being somewhat obvious enough the more you reflected on his past actions but still no words. It exasperated him and his gaze softened, thinking for certain his heart was a few moments from being broken into pieces.

He gave a last try to his determination and he loosened his grip, pulling back slightly and looking at you worried.

“Are you gonna keep acting this clueless? Just laugh it over? Is this what you’re gonna do every day?”

He shook you slightly, desperately wanting an answer from you and let out his last hopes for you to return the feelings.

“Please do something…Or at least say something…This is dumb to say…But my goddamn heart is about to explode…I can’t stop loving you…I’m serious…I really am…”

He looked down to his feet as his hands trembled while holding you. He was getting fearful at this point, he had never confessed such deep stuff that made him look like an utter wuss to anyone.

He didn’t knew what to say or do apart from sulk if anything went wrong. He kept repeating under his breath, “I’m serious, I’m serious…” over and over and at that point you couldn’t ignore him anymore.

You knew you had to say and do something to ease his heart. It would be a lie if you told him you didn’t like him, otherwise you would’ve flat out reject him the moment he’d invite you this far, so you smiled.

Slowly, you moved your hands up to cup his cheeks and bring his gaze back to you. It startled him and once again his heart was beating a thousand mile an hour.

He couldn’t properly process what was going on but whatever it was, he just didn’t want you to let go of him yet. He noticed your smile, with you like this and so close, for a good moment he felt the time stop.

He felt you stroking his cheeks and closed his eyes as he let out a relieved sigh to feel your softness and warmth so close. At your chuckle, his eyes fluttered opened to meet your gaze.

“Ok…I get it Merle…I get it now…You like me…You like me a lot and worked hard to get me to notice you…But me being me didn’t realize it until you had to bring me here to explain it all…and now you’re tired and want to know how I feel about you…”

He took a deep inhale and breathe out, nodding carefully after listening to you. He felt your footsteps inching closer along with your whole self and wonder as to what you had in mind.

“Then let me blunt about it…”

At that, he felt your lips pressing onto his and quickly your tongue delving into his mouth, kissing him as sloppily as you could.

At that, a satisfied and hungry growl came out of him, making him wrap his arms around you and practically picking you up to hold in his arms.

Finally, his work payed off and he was not about to let his well deserved reward run away, as he’d suddenly lay you down onto the dirt, straddling you and smirking at you.

Tags : @pan-and-proud-writes, @ivy475, @fancypinkpigeon, @happyshaddow94@sc1525, @professsionalsinner, @firths-colins, @nikkinikki97, @greek-freak101, @madamrogers, @officergrimes-daddydixon, @picturepowderinabottle, @grabaknifeandendmylife, @unlaceddoll, @nekodalolita, @shortoneofabakersdozen,  @ichimaruai,  @master-of-schadenfreude

7 minutes in heaven {pt.2}


pairing; jungkook x reader | taehyung x reader
genre; angst,romance
word count; 6.8k
warnings; mild/strong language

[x cr]
A/N; sorry that it has taken me MONTHS to post this second part, i was really struggling with the story line here :( i hope you are able to enjoy it nonetheless, pls like and reblog as it helps me out a lot <3

Keep reading