my body is a haunted house

Red days are when the wolves howl all night and in the morning the birds return with torn out feathers. The days are filled with ambulance sirens. My hair is on fire. Everything moves in slow motion. The flames, the heat, my body soaked in kerosene. The screams in the distance. The monster in the corner, gawking. The stripped birds. And then: the wolves. 

Blue days are heavy and I spend them speaking in spiderwebs. My reflection is clouded and the air is always too humid. The world does anything it can to make my bones weigh me down. My hands, a noose. My head, a haunted house. My heart, turned into a stress ball for when you needed it most.

Green days are spent wondering if it was painful when the sky had stars sewn into it. Wondering if the pain was worth it. Cactus spines stuck underneath skin when you try to drink the water. I am walking the precipice, one foot in the real world and one stuck in dreams. I am an inventor these days, writing fables for a childhood I can’t remember.

Purple days are murky and the owls have dangerous omens. I am on the tightrope. I am living out my childhood dream of being a ballerina. I am the circus act. I am the caged bird. I am spinning on my axis. The bystanders hold a collective breath. They are, after all, just paying for a pretty show. They don’t care about what comes after the fall.

Yellow days are a safe haze, coating my hands in syrup. My blood stays on the inside of my body. My skin actually does its job. Everything is safe and sultry. There is lemonade without sugar. There is your messy mouth again. Everything moves in reverse. There is my candy necklace. There are the sunflowers. There is the sunset we named after us.

Pink days are sunrises and fairy floss. I write about flowers and paint my face in watercolors. There are sugar angels on the counters. The spice containers are overfilling. I am happy and whole. I am kinetic energy and the explosion that comes with. I am rosy cheeked, and roses growing from my wrists. There is no pain. There is only the beauty I’ve torn myself apart to create. I am on the edge of a cliff. I have my wings. When I jump, I am a bird set free.
Moonlight Reign (Ch. 1)

A/N: Okay, my first series (since Snowfall All Year is only a two parter I need to finish) I’ve been wanting to write a mafia!au for the longest time, and I am crazy late on the trend but fuck it. Hope y’all enjoy and give me some love!

Originally posted by myjaebutt

Pairing: Mafia boss! Yoongi x reader (hopefully it’ll stay that way)

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: Angst, fluff, maybe some smut

Summary: Some things in this world are dangerous, and you, him, and the world you once lived in that now belongs to him are just some of many you can’t be free from, but do you even want to be?

“It’s time to go now, y/n.” 

1, 2, 3, 4

“Five years after the fall of the underground power family, Moon Corporation, people still suspect an even more powerful company has taken their place since…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The color red doesn’t suit this house well.”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The exposure beheld more answers than questions, but on the five-year anniversary of the suicidal explosion that killed the head, Mun Byungyeol and his daughter, the, as ordered to remain anonymous, green haired 13 year old. Colleagues mourn in secret and establishments fear an anniversary heist…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“Locals have several theories on the big conglomerate that now controls Seoul’s business, underground and above, with mafias and gangs running rampant, people fear the government is under their thumb as well…”

1, 2-

You inhaled deeply, as if just surfacing from the drowning body of water residing in your brain. Your fingers stilled from the tapping, a  desperate attempt to make you surface, a sorry technique therapy drilled into you.

Four was too perfect of a number for such an ugly world, a world you had to feign blind to now.

Your palms retracted from their firm placement on the wall you leaned on, relaxing you. Releasing your slightly curled fingers, you stifled a laugh at the desperate attempt to grasp onto something. 

Your little episode was finished as you settled your mind with the news continuing to drone on. Looking at the time, you decided it was time to get ready for your study session with Jungkook. 

Jungkook was a guy in the same university as you, he was older, but you were a year ahead, so you were in the same class. He was your neighbor in this adequate apartment complex that you kept via a crappy waitressing job. He was the regular party boy always at clubs and coming home at ungodly hours of the night. 

You weren’t exactly a social butterfly, so if you found one friend in Jungkook, you figured it wouldn’t be such a crime.

You faced the mirror, patting down your hair, “The green didn’t suit me well at all,” You mused, fixing your natural shade of hair, “Although the forest green was a nice shade on my skin.”

After gathering your study material, Jungkook knocked on your door and you studied like usual. He would always get distracted halfway through, though.“Why do you still have the news on?” 

You looked at the TV and shrugged.

“I guess I forgot,” You spoke, “Now what did you think this-”

“Mafias and gangs…” He mused, “Aren’t they the same?”

The pencil in your hand stilled. Absolutely not. Gangs were pawns, the mafias in this world were the players. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned, how to play chess outside a casual park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them.

“Like I care.”

“You aren’t scared of these guys at all?”

“Failing class is scary, that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of getting a D for my semester grade.”

Jungkook stifled a laugh, “I’m thanking every divine being if I pass, but it’s worth it as opposed to only studying and working.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sorry I’m not a child of the night.” Not anymore, at least.


A few days later exams went well for you, and you finished your semester and had a solid two months off. All was well and it was peaceful in the dead of night.Too bad your body rejected sleep.This week was a big week.


“Dad?” You whimpered as a strong hand patted your head to calm you, or soften the blow of what’s to come, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Mun Byungyeol was a rough man who took you in as a young child. His men killed your parents for revenge and a nearly-dead 3-year-old suffering from starvation and cigarette burns was found at the scene. Initially resistant to your arrival, he got right to training you to be the heiress to replace the heir he never received.

He may have been rough, but he was a caring dad, even if you had never been his priority.

Not unless you could be used as currency.

“Y/n, it’s time for us to go,” He sighed, “I let this greed consume me, and I’m afraid it’s begun eating me alive now.”

Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. The news was drowning out the comfort he attempted to give you. “…such evidence is linking the Moon Corporation to heinous mafia activities painting them as a possible syndicate, but no arrests have been made or criminal investigation on Mun Byungyeol himself, but many workers are being targeted due to possible involvement…”

Everything was dying. All your training was never for anything but fuel for his greed. You should be angry, shocked, appalled, but you weren’t. He’s been cashing out for so long on the blood of his family and foes that you didn’t even flinch when he said it. You did, however, flinch when the whole world highlighted it.

“If I just cash out and retire, we could never live in peace,” He shook his head as he switched off the TV, “But Uncle Byungjoo has a plan that I think might just work, but you and I won’t meet for a few years-”

He was going to abandon it. Cash out one last time, and leave. You were too surprised, you had put an inkling of faith in his heart to love this empire, like a fool. Your eyes widened at the notion of him abandoning you too. All you knew was his presence. All you knew were your father figures, “But the empire-”

“We were never an empire,” His self-loathing clung to each word, “I treated this organization as a bank, a money maker, it was inevitable that the paper I cradled would catch fire.”

You didn’t scream, yell, or cry. At least you hadn’t, yet.“Then who will rule Seoul?” You wondered aloud.

“A real syndicate.”

“Who will stay with me?”

He smiled warmly at you for the third time in your life, “One day, a real human.


You woke up with a start from a bang on the door, but considering the 4 am hour, you chalked it up to city noise. Five years ago today, you saw the match light. In two days, it will have been five years ago you saw the flames engulf your home, your family, and everything you were. Each year, this week was chaos for the city of Seoul. Each day was accompanied by an event that slowly grew more and more above ground. It was almost mocking the past, the surfacing of dirty secrets. Secrets the world knew, but never wanted to see, cowards.

The new syndicate at the top of the kingdom was known as Bangtan to the underground scene, but with a “Group” tacked on after the ominous name, they were also the kings of the business world. They were much better at actually hiding their identities, hence why most average people assumed there was no such syndicate anymore or that the “law” took care of it. As if the “law” wasn’t under the thumb of the kings. 

The only reason you were aware of their presence was because getting out of the game was easy, but you could never fully burn the console.

Another bang on your door startled you out of your thoughts, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone to the bar before such a big day- where are your keys?!” 

An unfamiliar voice spoke through your door.

“Ask, y/n,” Jungkook’s slurred voice rang out in a yell as you flinched at the volume, “Y/n! I need stitches!” 

This wasn’t the first time Jungkook was yelling outside your door, most likely bleeding on your doormat. You never really asked questions, you just patched him up and left him on your couch.

“Is this even your door?! Did you lead me to one of your whore’s places?!”

“Bangtan!” Jungkook chanted in response.

This made you huff as you hopped out of bed in your large t-shirt and shorts and ripped the door open. You were faced with a blonde haired man in a three-piece suit accompanied by a trashed Jungkook with a short, but deep, cut on the corner of his forehead. The blonde-haired handsome man stopped struggling with Jungkook as he looked at you with the most pristine judging face, “Look, just forget we were-”

“Y/n!” Jungkook cheered before he passed out.

“He lives next door,” You remarked flatly, “No, I’m not one of his whores, more like one of his classmates, but I’ve seen those lines get blurred with him a lot, so I understand the assumption,” You looked at his forehead again, “And he does need stitches.”

The man narrowed his eyes, “Do you usually play nurse for him?”

“Only when his blood is dripping on my doormat, for the third time this month,” You angled your head down for the man to see, “Bring him in, you aren’t the first friend of his I’ve met-”


“Anymore blood on that mat and I’m making you pay for it, now come on,” You snapped as he walked in and sat Jungkook in a chair around your table. You shut the door as you pulled your first aid kit out, “You have to sit him on the floor or the couch.”He complied to the couch, 

“Why does he-”

“When he wakes up, he attacks whoever is in front of him,” You spoke, preparing the needle and thread, “And I can’t stitch and hold him down at the table,” You explained, settling your knees to lock on both sides of Jungkook’s legs and your elbows pressing on his shoulders.

“Aren’t you scared he’ll hurt you?” The man asked as you began stitching.

You scoffed, “The only thing that scares me are failing grades.” You chuckled, “Plus Jungkook hurting me? Yeah, right. He has the fight of a peanut.”

Eventually, you just went on stitching in silence until the man broke the silence, “Who are you?” The man spoke mid-way through your stitching.

You paused for a moment, “Didn’t you hear Jungkook? I’m y/n, and who are you?”

“None of your concern,” He stated.“You’re bleeding on my hardwood floor, that has me pretty concerned.” You gestured to your hand to show him the small cut on his, “Concerned for my floor I mean.” You clarified, “The other two told me their first names at least.”

You thought back to the much pluckier and grateful Taehyung and Jimin as they smiled at you before taking Jungkook away.

He sighed, “Namjoon-”

You were tying the final knot when Jungkook snapped his eyes open. He immediately dove at you, pushing you to the floor, making the needle in your hand scratch your forearm before you threw it across the room to avoid the tempting notion of stabbing him with it. Namjoon was trying to find an opening to cut in between the struggling as Jungkook was sloppily throwing his fist down and you were moving your head to dodge each blow. Though his moves were sloppy, they were still fast, and Namjoon ended up watching in awe as you fearlessly slammed your forehead on his fresh stitches to make him stop to register the pain. You took advantage of the opening as you effortlessly pinned his arms down with your knees planted on his upper arms, “Jungkook!” You snapped as Namjoon watched his younger friend finally recognize you in his drunken haze.

“Y-Y/n?” He questioned, his tongue thick in his mouth, “You hurt my head- hey, you’re bleeding on my shirt!”

Your arm had a gash the length of a half ruler, it was shallow, but still dripping blood, but you didn’t flinch, “Wonder who made me hurt both my arm and their head, jackass,” You muttered, examining his stitches to make sure the impact didn’t affect the new suture, “And you got your blood on my doormat and my forehead, so let’s call it a draw.”

Namjoon was beginning to suspect you were more than a college student. With the sheer fearlessness and those fighting skills, you had to be something or someone who was anything but a regular student. Upon this realization, he then felt enormous regret wash over him for telling you his name. Yoongi would be livid if the empire was affected by Namjoon’s poor judgment, even in the most minuscule of ways. This string of thoughts prompted his mistake of grasping your wounded forearm to make you stand so he could properly question you. What he didn’t calculate in that movement was the fact that he grasped your fresh cut, which hurt like a bitch. This pain made you bring your other forearm to his neck, pressing firmly into his trachea as his back hit the wall with a bang, “Don’t ever manhandle a lady, Namjoon,” You seethed as you released him, “Care to explain yourself?” 

Namjoon regained his composure, impressed by your reaction time and ability to weaken his pride in such a short matter of seconds, “Who are you?” His tone was rougher in comparison to when he first asked the question.

“None of your concern,” You mocked, “Now take your sloppy friend, an alcohol pad and go-”

Your anger was cut short by a cloth that smelled an awful lot like chloroform engulfing your senses and releasing you from consciousness.

magical/supernatural/fantasy AUs
  • i’m a demon/angel and i need to possess your body. oh you don’t want me to? well that’s a nice body you have there. it’d be a shame if i GAVE IT CANCER
  • “what is the ONE thing i asked you NOT to do tonight?” “raise the dead…” “AND WHAT DID YOU DO?!” “…raised the dead…”
  • i’m a ghost whisperer and you’re a ghost haunting the house i just moved into
  • i’m a ghost and i need you to bring my murderer to justice
  • new witch and their teacher showing them how to use magic
  • members of rivaling covens
  • i’m a vampire and i may have just accidentally converted you… awkward…
  • we’re dating and you’re a vampire but that’s cool how long have you been ali–WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU USED TO DATE MY GRANDMA
  • we’re both ghosts trapped in purgatory
  • we’re vampires and we have to travel around a lot so no one realizes we don’t age
  • we were in love but you died and i can’t move on so now i’m trying to communicate with you from beyond the grave
  • i’m a demon possessing your significant other’s body but oh shit i think i may actually like you
  • you were dying and i’m a vampire/werewolf so i bit you to save your life and now i have to teach you how this works
  • vampire slayer / vampire 
  • werewolf hunter / werewolf
  • ghost hunters. bonus points if they have a shitty tv show
  • you’re my guardian angel
  • good old fashioned zombie apocalypse
  • i’m a ghost and i’m trapped in the graveyard and i don’t normally talk to mortals but bro i have to ask wtf are you doing hanging around a graveyard is your life really this sad
  • i’m a vampire and i’m sedeucing you as my next victim i can’t decide if i want to eat you or fuck you or marry you
  • i’m a demon and you summoned me so technically i have to do your bidding but i’m still gonna be an asshole 
  • i’m a ghost and you live in my old house and i can’t talk to you directly but i can enter your dreams so hi there how you doing
  • i’m a vampire and no i’m not gonna turn you into a vampire you fangirl goth idiot
Divine Intervention

So this little plot bunny wouldn’t leave my head so I finally wrote it out. Some context is that this takes place two weeks after Jamie forced Claire to go through the stones before Culloden. The only catch is they didn’t work and Claire is at Lallybroch when Jamie arrives wounded from the battle. As always let me know what you think!

It had been two weeks since my heart was torn out of my chest. Two weeks since that fateful moment at the stones. On the eve of death and desperation, my heart had tried to be noble. My love tried to sacrifice, to send me away to ensure the safety of his wife and child unborn. To ensure he would live on in some form and all wouldn’t be completely lost to the darkness of war. And by god, I had listened to him. But I now found myself at Lallybroch, instead of the future where I came from three years before.

The stones hadn’t worked. They had swallowed me up and spit me back out. When I woke from the horrid noises of the lost, from the trapped souls trying to steal my own, I expected to be back in my own time, in the forties. But I found myself in the same war-torn world I had tried to flee to ensure the safety of the baby in my belly. 

But Jamie was gone. Gone to face his death on that dreadful field of Culloden. I had sobbed harder than I ever have upon not finding him on the hill, harder than even when I was a little girl finding out I would never see my parents again. I clutched the stones of the ruined cottage where we had spent our last night together, trying so desperately to tear a piece of each other off to patch onto our weeping hearts in order to keep them from shattering entirely.

If it had only been me, I would have laid down on the ground where we last loved one another and slowly drifted off to the darkness of death, where I hoped I could see my heart once more.

But it wasn’t only me. I carried a piece of Jamie inside me, the last piece of him always, and I needed to keep it safe. He had trusted me.

So, I summed up the courage and somehow found myself back at the farmhouse that I had grown so found of. But now it was a constant reminder of what had been lost.

Jenny and Ian watched me with pitiful eyes, while I gazed at the road everyday with a sad broken piece of hope I was clutching onto. I knew he was mostly likely dead and I knew that they wouldn’t bring his body home, that he would be laid to rest on that retched moor.

But to not watch, to not look at all, was all too final. It would be throwing myself off a cliff without the knowledge if there would be water to break the fall or if I would break into a million pieces of heartache, scattered until I disappeared. That would mean I would have to accept that my other half was gone and the constant gapping wound in my heart would forever bleed with want for its missing piece.

The days went by in a blur. I ate little and slept little. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep on the bed we had shared so many nights together, instead sleeping on the lumpy chair by the hearth each night. Jenny, god bless her, tried to get me to play with the little ones and to help with the gardens, but I didn’t have the state of mind to do anything but stare at that blasted, empty road.


I tore my gaze from the desolate, lonely road to see Jenny clutching a limp Mrs. Crook.

I ran over immediately to the kitchen and laid my hand on her throat, looking for a pulse. It was quite fast but beat strong enough against my fingers.

“Only a faint most likely,” I said, feeling her forehead for a fever.

“Let’s get her upstairs where she can rest for a bit.”

Jenny and I carried her weak form up to the servant’s room, laying her down on the small bed as her eyes fluttered with awareness once more.

“I’ll tend to her Jenny, don’t worry,” I said with a weak smile, reaching for a rag and wetting it in the basin to wipe the elder woman’s brow. Jenny looked me over and nodded slightly, then walked out the door.

Perhaps, I could still be of use here. Until the baby came, I could travel from house to house, tending to the sick or simply giving them advice for staying healthy. It would allow me to escape the memories that haunted me every minute I stayed in the main house, every item reminding me somehow of my lost husband.

I was still wiping Mrs. Crook’s forehead when I heard the wheels of a cart faintly from the distance, the wind carrying the sounds through the open window. I shook my head, damning myself for even thinking it could be any good news. My palms started to sweat and my heart thumped like jack rabbit in my chest.

It could be someone bringing his body back, or worse just informing us the news of his death and that he was buried on the dreadful field. Tears ran silently down my face as I thought of him being dragged through the blood-stained grass by a British solider that may have well been the one to stop his heart.

I pressed my hands hard against my head, trying desperately to stop thinking, to stop the images from flooding my mind. But I couldn’t stop them, pictures flashed without permission.

Jamie laying lifeless on the field, surrounded by his fellow slain country men. Jamie falling down after being shot. Jamie cold and pale.

Sobs tore through my chest, as I pressed even harder against my temples in despair. At least he would have been buried with his clan, with the Frasers. I felt the pressure of a hand lightly on mine and looked up to the sympathetic gaze of Mrs. Crook.

“Claire! Get out here!”

I heard Jenny yell from downstairs and my feet responded before my mind did, flying down the stairs at the tone of her voice. Not of despair, not yet. I raced through the house and out to the front door where Jenny stood, gazing anxiously at the cart coming down the road, manned by two red coats and what it appeared to be a person in the back.

Jenny reached out and clutched my hand hard. I gripped it just as firm back, both of us drawing strength for whatever news may come of the man that we both loved.

The cart slowly pulled into the arch of the front yard and I stood frozen as the British glanced at me and Jenny.

I pressed my finger hard against my silver ring, taking a deep breath to steady myself. And then I saw a flash of red in the cart and I was flying once more.

“Jamie!” I screamed, breath caught in my chest.

I ran over to the back of the cart, seeing a dirty and bloodied man with red hair in the back as I approached. I climbed into the cart, no mind of the solider who was glaring at me from his horse. I fought my way to the front and my heart stopped.

It was him. And he was alive.

A broken, strangled noise came from deep within my chest as I moved to where his head lie among the hay.

His eyes were closed and he was so still I would have thought him dead, but his chest rose and fell in a reassuring manner. He was filthy and covered in blood, his skin stained with sacrifice and endurance. His hair looked more brown then red from the dirt, but I thought he never looked more beautiful.

I continued to cry as I leaned down to kiss to forehead and brush the dirty hair away from his eyes, picking a piece of hay from his curls.

“Jamie, Jamie…love, can you hear me? I’m here, Jamie. I’m right here.”

His eyes fluttered open and if I had been standing, I would have fallen to my knees at the sight of his eyes, filled with despair and the haunting of war.

His breathing hitched as his face twitched up into a small attempt of a smile.

“I kent it woulnda be long, Sassenach. Thank ye, god,” he whispered as his hand tried to reach my face but fell back on the cart with not enough strength to find me.

I picked it up gently, as if he was a small child, and brought it to my cheek and held it there tightly.

He looked so weak and so frail, which finally set off alarms in my head to look for a wound. I gently ran my hands down his bruised body. Gently lifting his shirt to peek under it and to be met with nothing but a pattern of black and blue.

I faintly heard Jenny and Ian talking to the soldiers a few feet away as I continued to search.

Internal bleeding? I thought it could be a possibility and if so, there was nothing I could do. My hands shook as I moved down to search on his blood covered legs. I lightly ran my fingers under his kilt only to be met with sticky, congealed blood.

I held my breath as I carefully peeled the plaid from his thigh and was met with a nasty, bone deep wound in his upper thigh, inches away from the femoral artery.

I gently lowered the kilt and scooted back up to sit by his head, which was pressed against the hay once more. He was barley conscious and I could hardly blame him under the circumstances, the pain must be excruciating.

I brushed his cheek, rough with weeks of no shaving, and brought his head to look at me.

“Jamie, you’re home. You are safe.”

I patted his cheek gingerly, trying to bring him to me. “Jamie, I’m here. I love you and I’m here. It’s over now.”

His eyes rolled slightly, appraising her, blue eyes blinking into awareness. He moved his cheek so his lips rested against her palm.

“Sass…Sassenach? Claire…you…why are you here…you should be…”

Tears formed in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks, washing away some of the dirt and pain of the days past.

I sent a silent prayer to god and leaned down an inch away from his eyes, my tears mingling with his.

“They didn’t work, Jamie. The stones didn’t work and I thank god in heaven for making it so,” I whispered through a thick throat.

Jamie started to sob as he came to the realization I was really there and not lost to him. He shook his head slightly, shaking as I smoothed his hair.

“Love…my love. You’re here, you didna leave me,” he cried as he gathered the strength to move his hand to my heart.

“No, Jamie,” I wept, “I will never leave your side again.”

I leaned down to gently kiss his lips, the only part of him that wasn’t bruised. His lips pressed against mine with such little pressure, to weak to move but an inch.

I clutched onto him in that filthy cart for what seemed like an eternity, until someone coughed discreetly behind me. I reluctantly lifted my head from my husband’s chest as I looked at the solider leaning on the cart, the brightness of his scarlet uniform blinding my eyes.

“You’re his wife, I presume?”

I said nothing, simply glared at someone who was originally my fellow soldier now turned enemy.

He cleared his throat and took off his hat.

“Lucky man, he was about to be shot but someone saved him. He has a nasty wound as you can see, but my fellow soldier and I will help bring him into the house.”

I hesitated. I knew how badly it would hurt him to move but the was no other option.

I moved to kiss his brow. “Jamie, were going to move you, love. Alright?”

Jamie mumbled something under his breath and I took that as agreement.

It was a struggle, the two soldiers and one tenant, trying to navigate their way into the house with a large Scotsman in their arms. I hovered almost on top of them, watching Jamie’s face every agonizing step, cursing all the way.

His pain literally hurt me to see. With every grimace, I felt my heart squeeze.

At last, they got Jamie on to the bed where I could tend to him.

“Gooday, mum,” the soldier said, and turned on his heel and marched out the door.

“Good riddance,” I mumbled under my breath.

I sat on the bed as softly as I could beside Jamie, who immediately grabbed for my hand as if to reassure himself that I was real.

He cleared his throat. “The stones, the didna work ye said. I looked after…and ye werena there.”

I brushed his hand with my fingers. “No, I touched them and I went into them and it was even worse then the first time, but when I woke, I was still in this time.”

He closed his eyes in either exhaustion or relief, perhaps both.

“Jamie,” I started softly. “I’ll need to tend to your leg.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.  “I ken that, but before,” he licked his dried lips. “Kiss me once more, Claire.”

I moved over to him, careful not to jostle him and leaned down to meet my lips with his as his hand grazed my belly which held our future.

A kiss that told all the unspoken truths we didn’t have the words to say aloud.I don’t know what I would have done without you. You are the heart of my soul. The breath in my body.

 And so we were, two pieces of one divine creation. Ripped and torn with chunks of us missing from past demons, but stitched and sown back together into one imperfectly perfect soul.

jaixny  asked:

5, 7 LANGST haha if you're still doing these! i love your writing :0

Okay, so you gave such a good prompt, that this turned into way too much for a one shot, so there’ll probably be at least another two chapters before the end. Stay tuned for more.

Klance, Gore/torture

For a moment, Lance couldn’t tell if they’d won.

It was chaos everywhere. Below them, the city was in flames. Although most of the citizens have escaped, Lance knows that they’d find more than a few bodies under those crushed buildings, most likely burned to a crisp. Some of them by laser fire. Some by boiling flame. And a few, maybe just one or two, will have been frozen to death. The other lions hovered cautiously, waiting for Shiro’s direction. A solitary battleship sputtered in the sky, with thick, black smoke spilling out of the numerous holes in its hull. Lance didn’t think they’ll have to worry much about it, and although he’d prefer to shoot it down, it was better for it to stay afloat, rather than to crash onto the town beneath it. Keith did a lap around it, and gets no response.

They let out a collective breath.

Shiro’s gaze shifted to Pidge, and then Hunk. Both of their lions had sustained heavy damage during the battle, and the resulting tumultuous flying had left Pidge with a broken arm, and Hunk with multiple bruises. Whether they had concussions or not was yet to be seen. “Pidge, Hunk, I’m going to escort you back to the castle; you need to get checked out by Coran before you start helping with the rescue and repair efforts. Keith and Lance, go check out that ship. See if you can get any information out of it before landing it, away from the city.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Lance said, giving Shiro a mock salute.

Keith simply nodded, and they both headed off towards the ship. The coms switched over, muting their lines with Shiro, Pidge and Hunk until they’re spoken to; Pidge had implemented that feature after listening to Lance sing for the better part of his solo mission, unable to mute him.

Lance shifted gears, and his lion zoomed forward. “Bet I can beat you there.”

“In your dreams.” Keith retorted, as Red’s thrusters fired, closing the distance between them before Lance had a chance to reply.

Keith reached the ship first, but only by a little bit (Lance was kinda proud of that. Red is physically faster than Blue, after all). And then they parked inside. And then…

Lance can’t remember what happened after that. Maybe they missed life signs inside, or maybe they’d separated and Lance had gotten lost, but whatever had happened next has left him alone in a tiny, cold cell. He still has his Paladin armor, which is a good thing, but his helmet isn’t receiving a signal. Great.

Keep reading

“Dirty little secret.”

A/N: I somehow have a chuck flow at the moment god knows why but this fic is the fault of my friend. Long story short I imagined God!Chuck impressing a woman with his totally naked body. Have fun reading. ;)

Summary: Your boyfriend of 5 Month didnt think of telling you a little oh so important detail about him which caused that you’re mad at him and ignoring him.

Pairing: God!Chuck/Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cussing, Dirty talk(?)

A little bit annoyed of my newest research on some old haunted house and someone not cooperating with me I walked down the stairs of the bunker. Sam, Dean and Cas were gone for a while doing some hunting stuff or something like that. I lived now for over a half year together with them after  some hunts together we all became close friends with each other and so we decided that I could move in here and I was really thankful for it.    

 The Bunker was empty, the only people left in here were me and my boyfriend of 5 Month, Chuck, but I couldn’t see or hear him right now. He was probably somewhere doing whatever the hell he does. Rolling my eyes at the thought of him I threw my bag on the big table in the hall of the bunker. I was mad at him; he probably kept the biggest secret of me ever. Not telling me he was God not even mentioning something like that in the last 5 Month was a total No-Go. Somehow the Winchesters knew about it but not even they thought about telling me this /unimportant/ detail. I mean how could someone keep this a secret that he was God and the hide it from his girlfriend? How ridiculous is this? I wasn’t mad at the Winchesters he probably told them not to tell me this, I was mad at this little shit for not telling me this oh so important detail about him, acting like a normal human the past 5 Month. That’s why I was mad at him, kept ignoring him for a week now and I won’t forgive him that easy.  

He already tried to gain my attention with various things, getting me flowers, making me food and other things but I didn’t roll with it, not after this.  Maybe I would feel better after a cold beer. I kicked my boots somewhere in the floor on my way to the kitchen where a noise from the sleeping room section of the bunker caught my attention.  Probably just chuck doing his daily work out. Shrugging my shoulders I walked up to the fridge grabbing a beer out of it. I opened the bottle taking a deep sip from it. Another noise caught my attention but this time I didn’t ignore it since it came directly out of my room.

“What the hell.” I huffed at myself making my way to the section where the bedrooms were hoping not to expect Chuck doing something ridiculously stupid to gain my attention. But oh I didn’t knew how wrong I was with that. I walked down to the section with the sleeping rooms, my beer bottle standing lonely on the kitchen counter now.  My room was almost at the end of the long floor.  After a few seconds I reached the door that lead to my room taking a deep breath I pushed down the door handle before pushing open the wooden door and what I saw there had me in shock for a moment.

“Oh my god…CHUCK WHAT THE HELL!” I squeaked out my voice hitting a ton of high pitches as I saw him standing in front of me completely naked. Not that I haven’t seen him naked before but this here was ridiculous and crazy.

“I was waiting for you to come.” He said slowly walking up to me, stopping in front of me our noses almost touching.

“I’m mad at you and I won’t give in that easy Shurley.” I hissed at him and he knew when I was using his last name it was harder to get my attention.

“You can’t ignore me forever Y/N. Or can you?” He stood behind me now pushing my hair aside to expose my neck before he started placing kisses on it. Oh shit. No I won’t give in that easy. I bit my lip ignoring what his lips caused on me.

“Maybe I can.” I said crossing my arms in front of my chest waiting for his next move.

“I don’t think so.” He whispered close to my ear before he started to suck on that little skin part underneath my ear. I hated it that he knew exactly where to push to make me go like he wanted to and the fact that literal God himself stood behind me fully naked didn’t make it easier. “I know you want it.” He whispered trailing his tongue about this little skin part making me moan. “Remember all those nights we spent together. So close with each other, me buried deep inside of you. Loving you, fucking you until you couldn’t walk anymore.” He said reminding me of every single night we spent together making me more wet with this thought. I didn’t realize his hands sliding up my thighs, his right hand stopping at my center while he pushed my shirt up with his other hand making me melt under the touch of his soft and warm hands.     Chuck started to rub his hand through the firm of my jeans against my center, his other hand found its way to my left my boob squeezing and kneading it softly.

“And can you ignore this Y/N?” The man behind me whispered into my ear, his voice dark and filled with pure desire. I squirmed under his touch pushing my body against his hands asking for more, giving him what he wanted, what I wanted.

“No I can’t.” I moaned grabbing onto his tights to find a hold.

“You ignored me a fucking week you’re going to pay for this sweetie.” He groaned making me shiver, his talented fingers opening the button of my jeans before sliding into my panties and spreading my legs a little so he could reach my entrance. Shortly dipping his fingers into me he spread my juice over my folds slowly starting to circle his middle finger around my clit. I leaned against him to keep me steady my nails dug into his thighs I could feel his hard member pressing against my ass.

“Look how wet you already are. Melting under my touch. How much I love seeing you like this, hearing the soft beautiful moans escaping your filthy little mouth.” He said and I could feel his dirty little smirk against my skin. “Does it turn you on when I talk like this?” He teased me as he felt that I was already dripping wet.

“Fuck me please.” I moaned in pleasure leaning my head back against his strong shoulder. He grinned against my neck starting to circle his middle finger with a little pressure faster around my clit easing another bunch of moans and cusses from me.

“I think I’m gonna tease you a little more.” He placed his lips on my neck again, biting it and sucking a few marks into it while his finger moved in a steady rhythm around my clit sending me closer to the edge.

“F…uck…I’m gonna…cum” I moaned as my legs started shaking grabbing tight onto his tights. He put some more pressure on this little sensitive spot finally sending me over the edge.

“Oh yes Sweetie, that’s my favorite sound.” He said pulling his hand out of my panties before he turned me around pressing his lips on mine kissing me hungrily. I was still high from my orgasm, wrapping my arms around his neck I pulled him closer kissing him back pulling on his lip between our kisses which made him moan. I heard the sound of snapping fingers and suddenly I was undressed, naked like him our bodies pressed together his hard member pressing against my lower tummy.

“You’re so fucking hot Y/N.” He whispered against my lips his hand caressing my face before he covered my lips with his again moving slowly against them as he pushed me in direction of the bed until I felt the edge pressing against my legs. Pushing me down on the bed he straddled my legs before he got in between them getting in line with my entrance before he slowly pushed his huge cock into me till the very last inch, burying himself deep in me. I placed my hand on his shoulders wrapping my legs around his hips to pulling him closer. The man above me steadied himself while putting his elbows to each side of my head before he started circling his hips, pulling out and thrusting back in moaning in pleasure after not being with me for a week.

“You feel so fucking good.” He moaned as he started to snap up his pace a little getting a little rougher. “Oh fuck” He cussed as I dug my nails into his shoulders. I can’t deny that I haven’t missed those sounds escaping from his mouth and the feeling of him inside of me; it felt right my madness was blown away for now.

“Harder” I moaned followed by his name as he hit the right spot thrusting into me harder and faster, his breath going heavier than before exactly like mine. A little layer of sweat covered our bodies, his sweaty brown locks falling into his forehead as he leaned his against mine, his lips finding mine again kissing me hard. I ran my fingers through his hair pulling on it making him moan and cuss. Chuck kept up the pace, pulling out and thrusting back into me hard and fast making me scream is name with each following thrust, another orgasm building up inside of me.

His breath got choppier after a while which told me that he also was close to the edge. He snapped up the pace of his thrust a little more, circling his hips once more pulling out and thrusting back into me sending us both over the edge, riding us through our orgasms. He pulled out rolling himself next to me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close.  Every muscle in my body felt totally relaxed and I felt pleased.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked after we both caught our breath again. Was I still mad that he kept being God from me? Maybe a little.

“A little bit.” I whispered tired and exhausted resting my head on his chest. He took my hand and crossed our fingers with each other.

“I’m sorry Y/N, really. I thought you’d feel like just one of my creations that I played around with.” He told me knowing that I was listening to him now.

“And I’m not?” I asked a little curious as he started to play around with my fingers.

“No you’re the best thing I’ve ever created and I love you more than anything else.” He confessed and it made me smile.

“I forgive you. I love you too.” I whispered slowly falling asleep in his arms, the best place where you could fall asleep was in the arms of God because you knew you were save there.

“Sleep a bit now.” He whispered kissing the top of my head before I fall asleep, relaxed and happy. I knew he wouldn’t sleep since he was God, he was watching over me as he always does when I was sleeping.

Tagging: @dont-hate-relate-pls @i-dont-understand-that-url

Signs as Gayle quotes
  • Aries: We're not gonna continue this conversation until you put some makeup on so I don't think I'm talking to Howard Stern.
  • Taurus: Today you look like a storyteller and I can't stand it.
  • Gemini: If you promise me you will take the photo with the scraps of my body, then I promise you my ghost will not haunt you from the afterlife.
  • Cancer: Every second you spend smiling like that, the value of this house is depreciating.
  • Leo: Cool, Ira, I hear what you're saying, but try not to talk, you sound like a lizard.
  • Virgo: You're Greek and I want you out of here.
  • Libra: If you mention my coupon stockade again in broad daylight, I'mma roast you like a pepper. I mean that. I mean every word of that.
  • Scorpio: So you're telling me that you leave your shoes, your muddy shoes on in this house and you leave the Swiffer wet cloths open? So what you're telling me when you're doing this is: why don't we just have a pig in the house?
  • Sagittarius: You've got a face of a Peeping Tom! You've got no lips. You have skin that turns into a mouth. You've got curious nose.
  • Capricorn: One day I saw a racoon so big, it looked like it had opinions.
  • Aquarius: It's time for me to assassinate Bonnie with my legs.
  • Pisces: In birthing classes they don't tell you that one day your progeny may develop sexual feelings for a lizard.


Lighthouse Ch. 2 {Bucky Barnes FanFic}

Pairing:       Bucky X BlackOC/Reader (BUT EVERYONE CAN READ)

Rating:        Mature (NSFW)

Warnings:    Angst, Smut, Mentions of Death, Language

Word Count:   1619

A/N:  So I’ve added some fluff and smut to offset the ANGST and heartache from the previous chapter.  Hope this makes up for it!!!  Enjoy!  leave me love and reblog if you like it!  


Originally posted by hauntedbystorytelling

One day when I’m free

Take a ferry ride over and

Be close to me

“You ok?”

She’s been watching Bucky in silence for nearly ten minutes, caught, as she often is, by the beauty of him.  Yes, he’s beautiful and strong and more than just a little broken.  And he’s hers.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed.  Dim swathes of moonlight drift over him.  They cast his slightly hunched form in wavering shadow and soft, blue light.  It glints on his metal arm, winking and dancing inside the warm stillness of her bedroom.  The messy fall of his auburn her obscures his face slightly, but she can imagine the look on it as he stares off into nothing, every line and hard edge as familiar to her as her own.


Familiar is what comes to mind when she thinks about him.  When he’s near.  When she catches sight of the small smile that ghosts across his face, quick as a flash and gone before it’s fully formed.  Familiar, like a song she’s forgotten, and only half-remembers, that swells inside her, mixed up with joy and a strange, shifting sense of nostalgia.

He’d always seemed familiar to her, oddly and inexplicably, from the very moment she’d met him, when he’d been blocking the refreshment table, more specifically the coffee, in back of her little bookstore where she’d allowed some of the locals to run various support groups for the past several years, including her close friend, Sam Wilson.

But, perhaps, it wasn’t him which had been so familiar to her.  Maybe it was the pain he held so close and tight, almost though not completely hidden behind a carefully crafted mask of neutrality.  Of watchfulness and wariness.  A pain he wore like a heavy winter coat and remained draped haphazardly across his broad shoulders.

He sits motionless for a long moment, a perfect statue.  Then he seems to take a breath, pulls the air in deep, filling his lungs before slowly turning his head to look at her.  Her fingers itch to touch him, to rake through his hair and smooth over the scruffy line of his jaw.  To pull him in and circle her arms around his broad frame.  Because he’s familiar to her.  Because he’s home.

His pale blue eyes move over her face, and she watches the shadows behind them shift and begin to fade, if only just a little.  And that makes her happy.

“I’m fine.” he says absently.  His voice, all low and rough and I-just-rolled-out-of-bed, echoes in her chest.  Moves lower where it pulses and throbs in hot bursts in her belly.  His metal arm whirs and clicks softly as his fingers curl in on themselves.

She doesn’t believe him.  He knows it.  She knows that he knows she knows it.  But she simply smiles and moves closer to him.  Curls like a cat around his overly warm body, her stomach against his lower back and her knees pressing gently into his hip.  Props herself up on a bent elbow and stares up at him.  Waits him out, because she knows pushing him will only make him detach.  Pull away.  

She doesn’t want that.  She likes him here and present.  Close.  

The light sparks in his eyes.  She trails the flat of her hand slowly, gently, down the ridges of his ribcage. Kisses the tips of his fingers when he reaches out to cup her cheek in his big hand.

Build a house on a rock

Where the bay meets the sea

Where the dreams of my mother

Are buried like seeds

“How can it work?”

His voice is distant, as if he’s speaking to himself, and she understands now what’s pulled him out of his rare, peaceful slumber.  Tugged him from her embrace.   

It isn’t the dreams this time, remnants of a past from which he isn’t so far removed, and which she’s certain will haunt him for the rest of his many days.  

No.  It’s none of that.   

She shifts again, this time curling herself more tightly around his body, as if she means to protect him, even if it’s from himself.  Gazes up at him through the fringe of her dark lashes.

“Bucky,” she says lowly.  Quietly.  Briefly rests her thin hand on his thick thigh and feels the muscles there jump at her touch.

Over time, old fears have become new ones.  No, the old fears haven’t changed.  They’re still there, though not as close to the surface anymore.

Instead, there’s her.  The passing of time.  A future he can’t see clearly and one he doesn’t believe at all possible.  He, Bucky Barnes, whose life is a testament to the impossible.  

“Bucky,” she says again, and he pulls his hand from her face.  Turns away.  His hair shifts against his cheek and she quickly, if a little clumsily, raises up on her knees next to him.  Brushes the hair from his face and presses a firm kiss against the curve of his flesh shoulder.  

“We’ll love,” she says softly, her tone almost matter-of-fact, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.   “We’ll live.  Maybe have a baby or two for our troubles.”

He makes a rough, disbelieving sound.  There’s more whirring and clicking from his arm,  an oddly comforting sound.  Musical,in its own way.

“I don’t deserve it,” he shoots back.  And she knows he means it.  Can sense the terror rising in him, clawing at him, and it makes her stomach feel hollow and heavy.   Makes it ache with the need to soothe and comfort him.  Wipe away all the pain and the writhing, hungry shadows swirling inside him.

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  Maybe you deserve better, sweetheart.  But, I’m what you get.  And, you’re kinda stuck with me now.”  

She leans in, molds her body to his side.   She paints his flesh with love, with the heat and sincerity of her words, pausing a moment to breathe in the warm skin and sparking metal scent of him.  A shiver runs through him when she walks two fingers up the length of his spine.  “I’ll be damned if I let you go, Bucky.”

She kisses his shoulder again.  Drags her lips up and over the taut muscle there.  Feels him beginning to relax against her.  

“If I can help it,” she goes on, “if it’s within my power, I’ll always be with you, Bucky.”

“You can’t promise that,” he replies, even as his metal fingers curl over the back of her neck and he turns his head to brush his lips over hers.

This time it’s she who snorts in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

There’s a moment of silence, of settling, of breathing in each other’s air as her words, her promises, move around them.  Then he’s moving, shifting his big body and using it to push her onto her back.   Her arms instinctively close around him, and he slips over her, makes room for himself between her lush thighs.  She feels him, hot and hard already, and releases a long, contented sigh.

His teeth find the soft spot below her chin.  They nip at it and then his tongue is flicking out to soothe the slight sting.  

“I love you,” he murmurs, and it feels just as good as the first time he said - in a back corner of her bookstore, staring down into a cold cup of coffee, the words spilling out as if he’d only just realized it.

She skims her hands up the broad expanse of his back, the skin warm and tight here.  Curls her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his temple.

She wants to say it back, but she knows there’s even more he needs in this moment.  “I’ll always be here, Bucky.  As long as I can help it, you’ve got me.”

And I’ll be your lighthouse

I’ll be your lighthouse

He sighs against her skin as he sinks into her, her body always wet and ready, open and welcoming of every piece of him.  Holds himself steady for a moment as her walls flutter and clutch at his cock.  The pleasure winds through her, moves like a hot, electrified wave through her.  It sparks in wavering shades of dark red and swirling blue behind her closed eyelids.

He moves with certainty, with a solid sureness and a quiet desperation, his arms banded behind her back and his mouth claiming hers as he plunges through her slick heat.  Shows her with his body, with each low, shuddering utterance of her name, how much he loves her, needs her, wants to believe all of these things she promises him.

She comes first, panting his name, squeezing him tight within her, clinging to him, her back bowing as the pleasure fill hers near to bursting.

When Bucky comes, it’s quiet, but his fingers dig into her flesh and the low sounds he makes are needy and hungry.  

Afterward, they lay together, allowing the sweat to dry on their skin, and watching the shadows created by the moonlight caught in her thin curtains dancing across the ceiling.  He holds her hand, refuses to let go of it as he absently traces the outline of her engagement ring with his thumb.  It’s quiet and the silence surrounding them now is perfectly empty and, at least for the moment, his fears have been allayed.  

There’s a measure of peace and they’ll take it, enjoy it, wallow in it until the fears rise again.  And then they’ll deal with them in the same way they always have - with promises and whispers and the connection of their flesh beneath the moonlight.

And I’ll be your lighthouse

You’ll be one for me

Tagging: @flowers-and-honey @afro-elf @stellanoble @jazzytee @buckyscurvylover @the-violent-peach @ishipwhateverthefuckiwantto @bethofaus @ursulaismymiddlename @amour-quinn  

let me know if anyone else would like to be tagged, or if I’ve tagged you and you would like to be removed!

Mitch Marner- Haunted House

Prompt: You are Best friends and he takes you to a haunted house where you have a panic attack which scares him. ——-/———-/———-/——– “Mitch, please can we do something else?” I ask grabbing his arm in an attempt to pull him away.

It was dark and loud. I hadn’t even stepped foot inside and I was already not felling good about this. Mitch was dragging me to a serial killer haunted house type thing.

“Come on don’t be a baby about it.” He says teasingly leading me toward the door.

“Please just tell me there are no jump scares and that I won’t get grabbed” I say grabbing tightly to Mitch’s arm.

“There are no jump scares.” He says pulling his arm from my grasp and putting it around my shoulders in a friendly manner.

As we enter I hear loud crashes a many screams from the people ahead of us.

“Mitch…” I say sounding like a frightened child. Which I mean I kinda am.

“You will be fine. It’s not like these people will actually kill you. Grab you maybe, kill you, no.” He says holding me tighter to his side.

Just then I feel a hand on my ankle making me scream and try to run. This ends in my almost falling flat on my face. I am so lucky Mitch has reflexes.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.” I say to Mitch as we got to the middle of the haunted house.

All of a sudden there was a strike of what I guess was supposed to be lightning and when it disappeared there was a killer clown. As if being chased by someone dressed like Jack the Ripper wasn’t enough.

My breathing had excelled and gotten much shallower. My body started to shake and the room was spinning. I had tears coming out of my eyes.

Mitch stopped and started trying to get me to breath properly. It just wasn’t working though. Mostly because he didn’t know what to do.

“What can I do to help?” He asks in a rush. His eyes wide with fear and this time not from the haunted house.

All of a sudden everything went black and I felt my legs give out.

——–/————-/———-/—–/ “Hey!!!!?? Are you okay?” Mitch asked as my eyes fluttered open. I was no longer in the haunted house. I was now in a place that smelled of hand sanitizer and the walls were a bright white.

That was when it clicked in my head, I was in an infirmary.

“Did I black out?” I ask trying to sit up only for Mitch to push me back down. That was when I noticed the tear tracks on his face.

“Yes, I’m so sorry about making you walk through the haunted house.” He says now sitting on the bed, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s okay. You didn’t think it would scare me that much.” I say putting my hand on his shoulder as best I could for where I was.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You scared me.” He says holding my hand.

“Mitchie, it’s okay. I’m fine. Plus it was kinda funny at the one part where you screamed like a girl.” I say giving hug him a smile and sitting up to give him a hug.

He hugs me back tight. Soon breaking away to tell me to lay back down. So I do.

“I did not scream like a girl.” He protests.

“Take it from your best friend, you screamed like a little girl.” I say full on laughing at his expense.

“No more haunted houses?” I ask sticking my pinky finger out to him.

“No more haunted houses.” He agreed wrapping his pinky finger around mine.

Originally posted by boringmarner


Anonymous Submitted:

I’ve always been different from others. I’ve seen things since i was about 7. i live in a small town in the middle of the USA, I’ve always hated the upstairs of the house i live in and i slept down stairs till i finally got the nerve to move into a extra room for privacy reasons when i was 11.I hated the closet and I didn’t really enjoy being in that room but i had to deal with it. my first nights in this room were uncomfortable. i was laying in bed and both nights i woke up at 2:56 a.m. The first night i didn’t think anything of it other than i noticed my bear was across the room and not in bed with me. So i got up and retrieved him and went to sleep. the second night I woke up to what i thought was my cat scratching my door wanting in but i looked at the door and the shadow was not that of an animal. i stayed awake the rest of the night. after that i just experienced little things and i met my best friend who I’m going to name her lila for security reasons. but lila and i had met at school and she was one of the few who knew of things that happened for she had her own experiences with it. i had just gotten a new laptop for my 12th birthday that year and it had a voice command thing on it.her and i were surfing the internet and we eventually grew hungry and bored so we asked to go to McDonald’s. I left my computer on thinking nothing would happen but when we returned we saw that in the search bar was the name Elizabeth Marrie saldia. We were both fearful for note the fact. everyone was gone and no one was home while we were gone. things grew slowly very weird after that. not only me but members in the household started hearing things and also saw things. My grandmother didn’t want to believe it as much until the day i was down in the car and lila and her were yelling up the stairs for me while seeing a similar figure at the top of the stairs. i didn’t know what was taking them so long until i decided to walk back up to the house and tell them to hurry up. when they heard my voice they turned and looked at me in shock and looked up the stairwell to tell me they saw someone upstairs. we immediately rushed up there to find the intruder but found nothing.

Keep reading

I went on a small research binge last month on Fiji Indians + being constitutionally locked out of land ownership, and some about Chinese Indonesians + pogroms last week. I was interested in the pushback that happens when an ethnic minority has a lot of economic power in a society. I had lunch with a friend this week and talked about this, and he mentioned that one of his friends was reading a book on this very thing – Amy Chua, who calls these groups market minorities, has written World On Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds Ethnic Hatred and Global Instability, which I checked out of the library a few hours ago. I’m ~40 pages in and excited about this (I’m unsure how much of her conclusions are correct, I’ll read the critics when I’m done with the book).

Chua’s thesis: introducing free market capitalism and democracy at the same time to a society that has a “market minority” (an economically productive ethnic group) leads to escalating tensions as the market minority gains more economic power & the majority population gains political power, mutually fucking each other up more.

Markets concentrate enormous wealth in the hands of an ‘outsider’ majority, fomenting ethnic envy and hatred among often chronically poor majorities. In absolute terms the majority may or may not be better off, but any sense of improvement is overwhelmed by their continuing poverty and the hated minority’s economic success. More humiliating still, market-dominant minoroties (along with their foreign investor partners) invariably come to control the crown jewels of the economy, often symbolic of the nation’s patrimony and identity: oil in Russia and Venezuela, diamonds in South Africa, silver and tin in Bolivia, teak and rubies in Burma. …

When free market democracy is pursued in the presence of a market-dominant minority, the almost invariable result is backlash, typically taking one of three forms: backlash against markets, targeting the market minority’s wealth; backlash against democracy by the market minority & allies; violence, sometimes genocidal, against the market minority.

The book opens with Chua recounting the murder of her Chinese-Philippine aunt Leona by her chauffeur. I found this part sickening in every way and fascinating as hell:

[One of my uncles] replied tersely that the killer had not been found. His wife explained at the Manila police had essentially closed the case. I could not understand my relatives’ matter of fact attitude. Were they not more shocked that my aunt had been killed in cold blood, by people who worked with her, lived with her, saw her every day? Why were they not outraged that the [complicit] maids had not been released? My uncle was short with me. “That’s the way things are here. This is the Philippines – not America.”

My uncle was not simply being callous. As it turns out, my aunt’s death is part of a common pattern. Hundreds of Chinese in the Philippines are kidnapped every year, almost invariably by ethnic Filipinos. Many victims, often children, are brutally murdered, even after a ransom is paid. Other Chinese, like my aunt, are killed without a kidnapping, usually in connection with a robbery. The policemen in the Philippines, all poor ethnic Filipinos themselves, are notoriously unmotivated in these cases. When asked by a Western journalist why it is so frequently the Chinese who are targeted, one grinning Filipino policeman explained it was because “they have more money”.

My family is part of the Philippines’ tiny but entrepreneurial, economically powerful Chinese minority. Just 1 percent of the population, Chinese Filipinos control as much as 60% of the private economy (!!!!!!!!!!!), including the country’s four major airlines and almost all of the country’s banks, hotels, malls, and major conglomerates. …

Since my aunt’s murder, one childhood memory keeps haunting me. I was eight, staying at my family’s splendid hacienda-style house in Manila. It was dawn, still dark. Wide awake, I decided to get a drink from the kitchen. I must have gone down an extra flight of stairs, because I literally stumbled onto six male bodies. I had found the male servants’ quarters. My family’s houseboys, gardeners, and chauffeurs were sleeping on mats on a dirt floor. The place stank of sweat and urine. I was horrified.

Later that day I mentioned the incident to my Aunt Leona, who laughed affectionately and explained that the servants – there were perhaps twenty living on the premises, all ethnic Filipinos – were fortunate to be working for our family. If not for their positions, they would be living amount rats and open sewers without even a roof over their heads. A Filipino maid then walked in; I remember that she had a bowl of food for my aunt’s Pekingese. My aunt took the bowl but kept talking as if the maid were not there. The Filipinos, she continued – in Chinese, but plainly not caring whether the maid understood or not – were lazy and unintelligent and didn’t really want to do much else. If they didn’t like working for us, they were free to leave any time. After all, my aunt said, they were employees, not slaves.

………gah. I did not grok how it must feel to have a bunch of foreigners come into your country and somehow take up all the resources and good jobs and make a living off the land that used to be yours and you’re barely keeping afloat buying the things you need to survive from them, and you want them gone you want them out – before the first thirty pages of this book. I went from a culture where immigrants aren’t really a thing to a culture where (our less powerful) immigrants are great and we love them! That this book has been so eye-opening so far probably speaks to my failure of imagination/empathy.

I’m currently on the chapter on Myanmar/Burma, where the situation is similar – the Chinese own e v e r y t h i n g, especially since the US has been boycotting Myanmar on human rights grounds. The Sino-Burmese that were already there (plus Chinese immigrants who came down and bought identity papers to work there) have collaborated with the military government to profit from deforestation / drug trade / gem exports. After South Asia, Chua’s book will also cover market minorities in Latin America, Russia, Africa, the Middle East. I’m psyched and will probably post excerpts again.

In Defense of Spike

Spike went after Slayers only because they were women, he hates women!

So why he immediately got interested when he heard about someone who could “teach him a lesson”, before he knew the Slayer was female?

Fool for Love

ANGELUS: You can’t keep this up forever. If I can’t teach you, maybe someday an angry crowd will. That… or the Slayer.

SPIKE: What’s a Slayer?

Spike stayed in Sunnydale only because he wanted to get into Buffy’s pants!

Buffy was dead… her body was rotting under the ground…


DAWN: But I’m fine alone. It’s not like anyone’s coming after me. I’m not the key. Or if I am, I don’t open anything any more. It’s over. Remember?

SPIKE: I’m not leaving you here by yourself, so forget it.

DAWN: Well, I’m just saying-

SPIKE: No. I’m not leaving you… to get hurt. Not again. Now deal.

Spike was 100% EVIL!

Well, when he lost his memory, he wasn’t that evil; “there was always good in him. so strong it didn’t need a soul to come out” (BtVS S10, Christos Gage)

Tabula Rasa

BUFFY: I kill your kind.

SPIKE: And I bite yours. So how come I don’t wanna bite you? And why am I fightin’ other vampires? I must be a noble vampire. A good guy. On a mission of redemption. I help the hopeless. I’m a vampire with a soul

Spike went to Africa to get his chip out to be able to kill Buffy!

Well, that one is just… lame. Anyway:


BUFFY: It’s a trick. You did something to the chip, it’s a trick.

SPIKE: It’s no trick. It’s not me, it’s you. Just you, in fact, that’s the funny part. ‘Cause you’re the one that’s changed. That’s why this doesn’t hurt me.

Spike only concern was Buffy; he would not move a muscle to save anyone else!

Once, Spike instinctively ran to help Xander – it wasn’t Buffy (or Dawn) screaming; he could have pretended not to have hearing anything:

Older and Far Away

Shot of Anya sitting in the dark by herself as we hear Xander scream.

Shot of Xander being held around the middle, arms pinned to his sides, with the sword at his throat.

Shot of Spike hearing, running toward the noise.

ANYA: Xander?

Xander struggles with the demon. Spike rushes in, grabs the demon’s sword arm and tries to pull it away. But he can’t, so instead he knuckle-punches the demon in the ribs. The demon growls and hits Spike with his elbow. Spike goes down.

Spike’s only goal was drag Buffy down to the dark side! He was a 100% selfish bastard who didn’t think of Buffy’s well being!

What would be better for him than to keep their relationship a secret? Why the hell did he want so much the Scoobies to know about him and Buffy?

Normal Again

SPIKE: It’s why you won’t tell your pals about us. Might actually have to be happy if you did.They’d either understand and help, God forbid, or drive you out where you can finally be at peace in the dark. With me. Either way you’d be better off. But you’re too twisted for that. Let yourself live already. Stop with the bloody hero trip for a sec. We’ll all be the better for it. 'Cause I’m done with it. You either tell your friends about us… or I will.

Spike told Xander and Anya about him having sex with Buffy - what a fucking asshole, revealing such a dirty little secret like this!

Spike kept the relationship a secret, as demanded by Buffy, till she said she wouldn’t mind if their friends knew about it – and he did so only under an extreme circumstance.


BUFFY: You wanna tell them so badly? Go ahead. You know why? I tried to kill my friends, my sister, last week … and guess how much they hate me. Zero. Zero much. So I’m thinking, sleeping with you? They’ll deal.

Spike didn’t give a damn to his past crimes!


SPIKE: No, not the chip! Not the chip, dammit. You honestly think I’d go to the end of the underworld and back to get my soul and then - Buffy, I can barely live with what I did. It haunts me. All of it. If you think that I would add to the body count now, you are crazy.

Buffy NEVER felt anything other than disgust and hate towards Spike!

Seeing Red

BUFFY: I have feelings for you. I do. But it’s not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love.

First Date

BUFFY: Why does everybody in this house think I’m still in love with Spike?

Spike is just a big liar!

Need me

Hellooo, so, here’s just something I wrote today. If you’d like me to do a part two, send me a message! Hope you guys like it :)


I knew things were not good the moment he got back from tour and didn’t jump my bones the moment he got his boot clad foot into the door.

It has been a month since that happened and he hasn’t laid a finger on me, just short kisses and a few warm hugs but nothing more than that. He hasn’t asked me for a cuddle like he usually did, not even the mornings we could both sleep until late.

It was weird, not feeling wanted. It’s a feeling that starts really tiny, that makes you laugh to yourself and think “I’m going insane, of course he wants me. We wouldn’t be together for the past year and a half of he didn’t” and then go on with my life as if the thought had never crossed my mind. Then, as the days went by and the distance became bigger and heavy on my shoulders, I started to realize that those thoughts weren’t that insane and that it makes so much sense the fact that he no longer wants to be around me. And then I started finding every flaw I’ve  ever feared everyone else to see, pay attention to every move that could push him away. It was like walking on broken glass except the cutting pieces are from my broken heart.

Harry wasn’t one to talk much about feelings, he’d rather show me how much he cares with actions. He said ‘I love you’ often but I didn’t believe him anymore. Not when he wasn’t showing it. How can he say he loves me but never show me what he means? You can’t possibly love someone if you don’t ever wanna kiss them anymore, or cuddle or have sex. Oh, the sex. How I missed it. The way I felt my body lose itself on his touch, my mind unable of thinking of anything other than Harry and his lips, his hands, the warmth of his body, the perfect balance between muscle and softness. I missed having his lips leaving frenetic kisses all over my skin because he couldn’t decide where he wanted to kiss first, his hands roaming my legs and touching me, getting noises out of me that would put anyone else to shame and his kisses… Harry’s lovely kisses, that seemed like melting chocolate and strawberries, the sweetest kiss. He kissed deep and slow, just like the way he talks and it was my favorite part. I felt more connected to him when we kissed, because Harry put all of him in it. Not just his lips, but his tongue and his body.

I was hiding in our spare bedroom, the silence of the empty house letting my thoughts wander far away. I couldn’t stay in our bed. It had started to haunt me. The memories of the long nights of passionate love making, where I could see clearly how much he loved me because he couldn’t stop saying it, with his words and his body. When he took me so many times I was left nothing but a mess of jelly like limbs and harsh breathing, my heart beating like it was going to leave my body and the feeling of loving him so overwhelming that I could feel tears well up in my eyes.

I was so lost in memories that I didn’t hear the juggling of the keys and the sound of Harry’s boots on the hardwood floors. I stayed there, silent and feeling as lonely as ever, tears falling before I could stop them. I had been doing that a lot. Crying, I mean.
I could feel the dampness of my cheeks and the sleeves of my sweater, my hands trembling. There was something really scary that had been eating at me, that never left my mind whenever Harry was around. Was this it? Was this the end of the most wonderful I’ve ever had? Was I going to lose him to someone else? Jesus, I couldn’t even control myself when I started thinking about that. I could feel any control I had slipping away, the sounds of my sobs becoming louder until I was full on crying.

My chest hurt. My stomach was in knots. My head was pounding and O felt like my heart skipped a beat every time I thought about him leaving. How did it get to this point? Where did it all went wrong? Is there a way to fix it? I needed to know.

I hugged my pillow, letting it all out. I had stopped trying to drown the sounds I was making because it was only making it worse. I had been holding this in for so long there was no stopping now. Not even when Harry opened the door to the spare bedroom, his face colorless and scared, taking in my trembling body and loud sobs, tear stained face and absolutely wrecked heart.

“Love, are you ok? What happened to you? Why are you crying like this?” He asked, walking to me in a hurry and putting a hand on my face, trying to find any wounds I suppose.

“Stop touching me!” I let out, pushing his hands away and crawling towards the other end of the bed, hugging my knees and trying to hide my face from him.

“Why are you running, what happened? Baby, please…” Harry begged, worry set on his features.

“Nothing happened Harry, absolutely nothing happened.” I said, looking at him through my tears, my welled up eyes focusing on his. I loved his eyes but right now, it hurt to look at them.

“I don’t understand.” He said, sitting down and pulling his hair slightly. He was clearly frustrated. Good, at least I was getting some kind of reaction out of him.

“Tell me…” I started, my voice unsteady, the never ending ears making me sound a uncertain. “When were you ever going to tell me that you don’t want this anymore?” I asked, startling him.

“What?” He asked, his usually calm and collected tone was now breathless and incredulous.

“Don’t play coy with me Harry, I know you too well.”

“You’re insane. What makes you think I don’t want this anymore?” He asked, getting up and pacing in front of the bed, his hands on his hair again. He had the habit of running it through it when he was nervous.

“I don’t want to sound needy and I don’t want to be a bitch. I’m not accusing you of anything. I just added the facts.” My voice sounded defeated and I felt like that. I couldn’t see a way for this to end well. “You don- you don’t talk to me anymore.” I started, throwing my head back so I had a chance to stop crying. “And we never kiss, you’re always out and you haven’t touched me in so long…” My voice cracked, the tears spilling out warm, it felt like my skin was burning. “Did yo- did you find someone else?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself, looking down at the white sheets. I couldn’t look up, the weight of the world on my shoulders stopping from even moving.

Harry was silent. I could only hear his harsh breathing and my sniffling. I couldn’t even dare to look up, scared to see the look on his eyes.

“Where-” Harry started, sounding like he just ran a marathon from how breathless he was. “What-” he tried again. I looked up, seeing his face red and tears on his eyes, his hands I loved so much balled in tight fists, his knuckles white from how hard he was clenching. “Where did you get that from?” His voice boomed inside the small room, making me jump. I wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction.

“I’m not accusing you, I was just askin-” I started but he cut me off.

“I don’t have anyone else! I don’t WANT anyone else! Haven’t I proved you enough?” Harry asked, tears sliding down his face and hands shaking, his hair a mess and his shoulders slumped.

“But you don’t want me either!” I yelled, letting the fear and the rejection take over and control everything I was saying. “You’ve been back from tour for two months and you haven’t touched me once! Not even a kiss! We’ve never been like this before and if you’re not getting it somewhere else then you don’t want me anymore!” I screamed, my throat hurt from how hard I was pushing to make him listen to me. I just needed him to listen. I needed him.

“I’M NOT FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE!” Harry said, throwing his phone to the wall and making me jump. “I have NEVER even looked at another woman since the moment I met you.” He pointed, I could see him shaking.

“Then why don’t you want me? Why don’t you kiss me or talk to me, why don’t you care?” I questioned. I had to know.

“I think… I think I just got used to not having you around.” He breathed in, his chest raising fast from his harsh breathing. “I didn’t have a present girlfriend for six months, I got used to only the idea of you.” Harry sat down, his back against the headboard and his shoulders tense. “I didn’t have any obligations, I didn’t have to wait on you or think about your needs. It was me, myself and I. And I just got used to not needing you for anything.”

“But I still need you.” I whispered. I had given up on stopping the tears, there were so many feelings going through me that there was no way I was going to stop anytime soon. “I need you to need me too.” I let out. “I need you to need me too!” I said, this time louder and more desperate than before.

Our eyes met when he crawled to me, his hands finding my face. I couldn’t look away, not when I seeing how hurt he was by this situation and even after all the pain he put me through, I still wanted him. I wanted to make him stop hurting, but I couldn’t because I was too broken to mend someone else.

“I need you to need me too…” I whispered.


Tell me what you think!



u n l e a r n i n g  [ 8tracks / spotify ]

you never thought your body could be
anything except bruised. your locked door.
your haunted house. the unlearning
is taking so long.
fortesa latifi, “fingertips,” we were young


the trees have mouths
and the vines have veins
that break through the house.
the body is a tired thing
that sleeps behind brick
and boils two parts tea,
one part sugar until it all
evaporates on top of the stove.
the houses are haunted
and we are not afraid;
what moves in the night
is more timid than i am.
the flowers grow away
from the sun and birds burrow
under the ground in search
of something still and quiet.
the trees shiver in the wind.
someone stirs lemonade
on a front porch and
it sloshes onto slotted wood.
feet stick to the floor
and bees land in places
where they shouldn’t be,
domineering. the water
is cold, even under the sun.
honeysuckle gives a drop
to drink and we hunger
for more, and more, and more.
the body is a wanting thing
across the world, but here,
it gasps with need.

#a yyyy 

I can do speed paints now that @desmormos told me about OBS 

#No longer will I have to be haunted about my MLP Horric Fic art from times in the past. 

But yeah 
I’m only part way done with this so have a sneak peek. I’ll upload all full versions to my patreon and the complete ones here on tumblr when I am done.

anonymous asked:

What are some of your favorite lines that you've written?

Here are some of my favorites from Rabbit Holes.

for i am a wildfire. my sole purpose is to grow.

there you were, a haunted house.
there i was, so good at crawling into bed with old ghosts.

you are jealous of what’s golden, but you’re afraid to let the light in.

love is a kind of haunting, allowing ourselves to be killed and then choosing to stay.

we scold blasphemy until we are called god.

i had long been looking
for a friend
but never bothered to ask
the girl living inside of my body.

send me “what’s your favorite..” asks

The Attic Letters

Mistress Dolly,

My heart aches for you. I cannot rid my mind of the filthiest pleasures I want to bestow upon you. I am yours and yours alone. You own me wholly and completely. I do not dare satisfy myself because I know I am wasting seed that could nourish you. You are my sun. My piercing stars.

I am nothing and you are everything. I close my eyes and see your sensual form. Your generous breasts, your soft stomach, your sharp teeth. Men would die for a moment of your time. And yet I get to have you, even if it is only for an hour.

I have carved your name onto my chest as you requested. I hope you will visit soon, so I can show you my work. It was painstakingly slow. I had to use the rusted nail from the doorframe. But I wrote it in cursive just like you asked. I will do anything for you. Please come visit soon.

Yours forever and beyond,



Mistress Dolly,

Your visit was breathtaking. I forget about my hunger when you set upon me with your body. Your flesh covered my vision. I could feast on you for the rest of my life and never feel an appetite again. You are my sustenance. My everything.

Thank you also for the iodine. Although your name on my skin looks beautiful, the rot has set in. I think the iodine will help, although it makes the pain worse. And not the sweet pain that you gift to me. Your teeth have left half-moons along my thighs. I rub them and think of you. Your bittersweet smell. I found some of your hairs in my nest. I taste each before entwining them in my own hair.

I hate to ask anything of you, since you give so much to me, but might I have some water? The attic is hot and I have drunk nothing but the sight of your beautiful body. I am a miscreant for even asking. You owe me nothing. You must hate me for this request. I will do an hour of headaches to atone.

Yours faithfully,


Mistress Dolly,

I am forever in your debt (as if I weren’t already). Despite the taste of the toilet water it truly has put the life back into me. I feel spirited again. And the dog food was an unexpected gift. You truly take care of your bat so well. I am so lucky to have you.

My body burns for you. I dream of you at night. At least, I believe it is night. Since there are no windows I cannot tell what time of day it is. But I hear no footsteps downstairs. Your bastard husband makes so much noise when he walks. He is a hippo of a man. I understand your disgust with him. Yet…I can’t help but feel jealous. He has your bed whenever he desires. I am vermin for even telling you this. But last night I heard him cry out in what must be sexual ecstasy. While I hope beyond hope that this tryst did not involve you, I can’t help but mourn my beautiful goddess at the hands of that rat. If you asked, I would remove him for you.

I also wanted to say that I listened to your request and have stopped urinating. It is difficult, and often painful, but I have gone many hours without relieving myself. If I fail, I will do two hours of headaches.

Can you hear the sound of my skull against the wall? I don’t want to alert your bastard husband.

Your willing slave,


Mistress Dolly,

Please touch me again. Please use me again. I am dying without your love. My body has become nothing more than straw and wood. I hear voices all the time now. They tell me you don’t love me anymore. But I defy them! You are my sun. My only light. You would never leave me. It may have been hours or days since we last consummated our desire. I have lost all time.

Have you locked me in? I have to admit, although it shames me so, that I tried to open the attic door. It was the thirst, my love. Both for you and for water. I thought maybe you had left some outside and I could grab it quickly before coming back to my nest. But the door would not open. Did you lock me inside? What horrible thing have I done to deserve this? I will atone. I know I am nothing and you are everything.

Please come to me soon. There is a yellow liquid building on my chest. It smells worse than the chamber pot. I cannot live without you.

Yours until I die,



Mistress Dolly, 

Did you visit me? I no longer have memory. Perhaps I have lived inside this room my entire life. Have I been your slave since birth? The words dance along the paper. The voices bite my ears when I try to sleep.

There is a leak in the roof. I have been sucking rainwater from the broken wood. It gives me a second of luster. Hunger drove me to the rats. And the bugs. They are in my stomach now, whispering their insults. You must be disgusted by me. I am no better than your husband. If he were in front of me now, I would wrap my hands around his throat. I would fill his mouth with the pus I scrape from my skin. I would kill him again and again and again and



I miss you your body sex

Tell me I love you Tell tell Kill him in front of you




My name is Fred and I found this stash of letters under a baseboard in my dining room. My wife claims she knows nothing of them. They look old and the ink is fading. We bought this house four years ago. The people who lived here before us thought the place was haunted and gave us a good deal. We haven’t had a problem, except for the occasional banging from the attic. I tried to go up there to see if there was something broken, but the door was locked shut with an old brass padlock. Since then we have basically ignored the attic and its contents.

But then I found these letters….If this is a joke, it’s not a very funny one.

Especially since I just rechecked the attic door, and it was wide open.