my sister is cruel

In light of an unfortunate display of ignorance I witnessed today, let me take a moment to make something blatantly clear, for anybody that needs it:

-making fun of someone for using a fidget spinner, to the point of them displaying obvious embarrassment and shame, is disgusting. 

-when you say things like “Oh my GOD, I hate those spinners! They’re so annoying, what are they even for haha” you are being willfully ignorant. Spinners are marketed towards people with anxiety, PTSD, OCD, ADD/ADHD, Autistic people, and many other people with brains different from yours that need an outlet to focus, relax, relieve sensory-related issues, and many other things that yours does automatically. Most of the ones I see advertised even specify “For anxiety/stress/ADHD/Autism/etc”

-Making fun of someone for other behaviors such as rocking, hand flapping, echolalia, hair twirling, skin picking, hair pulling, etc is in fact, also a shitty thing of you to do. It’s also unnecessary, cruel, and humiliates the person who is doing those things.

-Don’t make fun of people who use fidget spinners. Don’t make fun of people who stim. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you think it’s unnecessary, or it “looks weird” or it “looks gross.” Don’t do it. You KNOW what you’re doing. I know what you’re doing. I’ve had it, I’m done.

Mikaelson Sister – You Will Be Missed

Words count: 1801

Warning: SAD

REQUESTED: i HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I DIDN’T EDIT THIS ONE, SO SORRY IF THERE’S MISTAKES. 

Requested by anonymous:

Hello I would like to request a tvd and to mixed in where y/n is the sister of the mikealsons but very powerful creature filled with other supernatural powers . Then y/n dies in mystic falls and y/n is best friends with the mystic gang . So when y/n dies the mikealsons and the gang meet at her funeral . All the characters say something meaningful specially klaus and Stefan because y/n would have best most besties with Stefan he says something like he loves her . Then as a ghost y/n says I’m here


You’re an original. A sister of the Mikaelson. You are a very powerful creature. You’ve lived for more than a thousand years and seen so much. It was hard for you to make new friends, because people die, and not everyone wants to be a vampire. So when your siblings and you settled in Mystic Falls for a bit. You decided to enroll in the local high school, that way you’d be able to make new friends. And friends you made.

Despite who your family is you befriended the mystic gang. You were closer to Stefan which meant that he wasn’t about to die anytime soon, being a vampire and all. Now something happened when your mother turned you into a vampire, unlike your siblings you were filled with supernatural powers, making you just as strong as Klaus if not stronger.

When your family left to New Orleans you decided to stay, it was hard to say goodbye to your family especially Klaus. You two were very close to each other. You were never daggered and were always by his side no matter what. You knew he was damaged because of Mikael and that he just needed love. So you gave him all the love you could and hoped that one day he’s meet a girl that’ll show him how amazing he was.

All that was great and amazing. Until came a day when something unexpected happened. It was a shock everyone didn’t know what to do, what to feel. You died. You were stacked with a white oak stake.

Your family came to Mystic Falls at once, you were going to be buried there. The place you were born. It was a rainy day, the sky was gray as if it was mourning you and was saying goodbye to you. Everyone you loved or cared about was there, all standing around your grave where your headstone stood. It was a secluded area that belonged to your family. Tears were running, people were sniffing everyone was just a mess. How will they move on? How will they live without you?

“I knew (y/n0 the first one, here in Mystic Falls.” Caroline said as she silently whipped her tears away. “She was so nice to me, I couldn’t believe she was an original. I knew I could always count on her no matter what. She gave me advice on men and she helped me gain respect from everyone who thought I was just a dump blonde. I owe her so much, she deserved more than she got.”

“Uh… (y/n) and I bumped into each other one time, when I was leaving school.” Matt who was standing next to Caroline said as he tried to compose himself. “I knew she was a vampire, and for some reason I thought she was going to kill me, which she only laughed at. I never understood how much kindness could come from a person as easily as it came from her. She saved my life more times that I could count and for that I thank her.”

“When Elijah and (y/n) came into town, I had a feeling that I could trust them.” Elena said as Damon held her hand. “More (y/n) than Elijah to be honest… she just had that shine around her, she was confident, honest, honorable and powerful. Yet she never once harmed me or anyone I love. She always did the opposite actually, she was always one call away. I’m going to miss her so much.”

“Guess it’s my turn…” Damon said quietly, before he cleared his throat. “I never make friends easily, people aren’t always found of me and my personality, but she thought otherwise. (y/n) managed to slip past my walls and camp inside. She and I became fast friends, she was my drinking buddy, I could rant to her for hours and she’d sit and listen carefully. She acted as if I was her younger brother. For some reason I always wished for an older sibling and she filled that roll all these years ago, and now I feel as if I lost a sibling.”

Elijah knew it was his turn to speak, yet he couldn’t say anything, Hayley took a hold of his hand and gave him a squeeze. Telling him that she was there for him.

“Um… I never… I never thought about losing a sibling.” Elijah said a tear escaping his eyes everyone and then. “Especially not (y/n) she was just so full of power and confidence, but more importantly she was kind and forgiving. Who would ever want to harm her? She and I were close, she was close to me and my siblings. But-but I uh I knew I can always count on her to cover my back no matter her personal interests. For a long time she was the only light and amazing thing in our family. Losing (y/n) is the hardest thing I had to go through in life.”

“She is the most supportive person I knew.” Hayley said holding Hope in her left hand as Elijah held her right one. “When she found out I was pregnant she came down to New Orleans at once, and helped me. Whenever I called her for help or advice she was there for me. She was the first one that showed me that not all vampires are alike and there’s more to the Mikaelson’s than meets the eye. Because of her I have Elijah by my side, and that is something that I will never forget.”

“After losing Freya, I was beyond happy to get a sister.” Finn said, and he looked at Freya and turned to your coffin. “(y/n) and I were great friends as we grew up. She was the only one of my siblings that haven’t once looked down on me, or showed me disappointment. I am more than glad to be her brother. I know she will be missed, as much as she was loved.”

“I haven’t really spent that much with (y/n) as you all did.” Freya said comforting Finn. “But the time I did spend with her, I could tell that she was defiantly different from the rest of us Mikaelson, no one with our past should have been that… good, but she was. And how she did will remain mystery. I was looking forward to getting close to her after everything calmed down here and in New Orleans.”

“(y/n) had an amazing life, she was a great sister.” Rebekah said while she tried to stop her sobs. “She was the kind that stands by you when you needed somebody to be there. She was a sister, friend and a warrior in and out. I remember when we were young, she’d go out of her way to make us all happy, which confused me as to why. She was the youngest after all. I was so happy that I got a sister when she was born. She was truly a caring person, and I know a part of me will always be missing now that she is gone.”

“What really puzzled me was her ability to always believe the best of everyone, until they proved her wrong.” Bonnie smiled sadly as she remembered her time with you. “She had a big hear and enough love for everyone. She was admirable and compassionate and and she deserved so much more than she got. Her ending was supposed to be happy. The best way to describe her is that she’s a friend that would stick by in any weather; he is the type of friend friend that would stand in a storm, with rain pouring down on his head, holding an umbrella, calmly and carefully, to make sure that my own head did not get wet.”

“My baby sister, was more than just a sister, she was my best friend.” Kol said tears streaming down his face, he was looking down unable to look anyone in the face. “When we were young she’s wake me up every morning so we’d be able to watch the sun rise. I was so annoyed at her for that, but looking back that was the most peaceful time we had and now that she’s gone, I only want to go back to that time where it was only her and I talking and having fun. She was my shoulder to cry on through every heartbreak. She was an amazing sister.”

“Um… (y/n) is the only one who I never daggered. She was my baby sister, if I could I would’ve given her the world.” Niklaus said as he whipped the stray tear before giving up as more escaped from his red eyes. “She was so different from me we were the total opposites yet we were the closest. I remember every minute we spent together, she was so mad when I daggered one of our sibling and tried too hard to get me to un-dagger them. She loved this family more than anything. I love her so much. I’ll be telling Hope stories of her brave and amazing Auntie (y/n). I saddens me knowing that my daughter will never know her auntie and my sister will never know her niece. It is a cruel world we live in, and (Y/N) has been always far too good and pure to live in it. I miss her, I can’t believe she’s gone… forever.”

“(Y/N), was an amazing girl, I’ve never met anyone like her.” Stefan said crying the most. “ As time went on we became best friends… I’ve been looking for some to love all my life, and the minute I met her I knew she was the right one for me. But I never thought that I’d ever have a chance with her. She was far too beautiful far too good for me. But as time went on she made me feel loved that I wasn’t a monster we grew closer as time went on, and my only regret is not telling her how much she meant to me. I wish I could’ve told her how I loved her, how I wanted to make her mine, I thought we had forever. But you never know. She truly will be missed, she impacted so many people, and the world will not be the same without her.”

You as a ghost from the other side cried as you watched everyone talk about you, you wanted to reach out to every single one of them, you wanted to comfort them and tell them that you loved them. Hearing Stefan confess his love to you broke your heart as you wanted to tell him that you felt the same as he had.

“I’m here.” You whispered but it fell on deaf ears. They couldn’t hear you. They couldn’t feel your presence. That was it, you  live has ended.

WINTERVINE
by Lindsay Smith

I will rule for a thousand years, and none shall defy my reign.

I am the sole queen of these lands. Sole heir to the winter and the forests and the streams, sole arbiter of the echoing city streets of stone. So many would keep me from my throne, my true calling. But I have earned my place. I have shown them all what it means to rule.

It started with my sister. From my first hazy memories I remember her shadow weighing down on me, stifling my every move. “One day one of you must rule,” our father said to us, night after night when we gathered at his feet. “If it must be one of you, then I will be the one to choose.”

How could we learn to be sisters with such a decree? All I wanted was a friend, someone to look up to, someone to whisper to at night to keep the darkness away. But I learned quickly that that was only the surest path to her scorn. She saw me as weak, as foolish, as younger. I would reach out to her to pull me up and she would shove me right back down. I would show her my weakness and she would pry it open wide, ragged and bloody.

I didn’t realize the significance, at first, of what our father wanted us to become. Didn’t know what it meant to be queen, or why it was something worth fighting for. But as I learned from my sister, I learned to covet it, to hunger for it so fiercely that everything else tasted dried out and dull. She wanted to rule so that all would obey her. I wanted to rule so she could not.

The first time she tried to kill me, it was my nurse who gave it away. She woke me up in the dead of night and bundled me into a closet, told me not to make a noise no matter what followed. Then the guards came, swords drawn, visors lowered. They were only boys infatuated with my sister, but at the time everyone seemed impossibly old to me, unstoppably strong. I feared them, but I believed my nurse invincible too.

They taught me, quickly, how wrong I was.

After that, my father sent me to the country for a spell. Armed guards, a fleet of tutors, and an ailing count who watched over me with a gaze like sharpened knives. Sometimes the threats came in letters that the count would burn before he thought I could read them. Sometimes, It was assassins in the night.

Worst of all, though, were the long silences. The heaviness of her inaction dragging me to the bottom, drowning me. I never knew when the next assault would come for me.

Slowly, finally, I could wait no longer.

I found the woman in the country market, slender fingers grazing over her wares of pewter charms and crystals and bundled flowers. Her skin was smooth, her hair like silk, and when she looked my way, I saw the kiss of winter in her eyes.

“You look troubled,” she said, and the words wrapped around me like a soft breeze. “You look far too troubled for someone your age.”

I looked away then, ashamed to be so young. If I was older, if I was cleverer, I wouldn’t have to be sent away. I could prove myself worthy of the crown. I could beat my sister for good, beat her just enough that she’d never need attack me again. How foolish, that I thought winning once would be enough.

“Come closer.” She swept her hand over her goods. “Perhaps I might ease some of your pain.”

I started to meet with her every time I could sneak away from the count’s estate. It wasn’t often, but her lessons in the ways of magic filled me up with a sustenance I didn’t know I craved. I wanted to be her, to share her easy confidence and capability, to bend the world toward me with a subtle call the way she did. Her poultices cleared away blemishes and made water drinkable, but they also could boil blood, shatter bones, freeze a pond. She let me practice these skills as though they were interchangeable. She let me build on them, stringing them together like beads on a necklace, as I practiced on the woods beyond her hut.

The more power I gained, the more I sought. At long last, I understood the hunger in my sister’s belly. For now, I hungered too.

“You have a keen mind for magic,” she told me, when I worked something particularly cruel on a sparrow we found feasting on her garden. “A cruel mind. But I think a girl like you has to be cruel.”

“My sister is cruel. I just wish to survive.”

“Then I hope I’ve equipped you well,” she said. “Be like the wintervine. Feast on cold, on nothingness. For they have given you nothing. Use it to sprout your ice, your thorns.”

I looked at the wintervine where it flourished in the ice, and I felt its loneliness, its stubbornness, its scorn.

At long last I was of age, and my father sent for me once more. The time to choose was drawing near, but, he confided, in some ways he feared us both. His kingdom needed a decisive leader, yes, a sturdy leader, but compassion, too, he said, was called for. He did not see that he’d been the one to rob us of that. He didn’t see the dark seeds he’d planted in both our minds take hold.

My sister began her attempts anew, but this time, I was ready.

The first men she sent to kill me simply disappeared. They became nothing more than char burned into the cobbles of my bedroom floor. The next, though, I made sure she saw, their flayed corpses piled at the palace gates. Cruelty was my reflex, now, and each test made it stronger still.

“You cannot beat me,” she hissed, over a banquet table while our father entertained. “I deserve this. I will earn this.”

She cut her steak with a furious scrape of knife and fork. The noise grated at my soul. When was the last time she had shown kindness? It had been carved out of her, if it had ever been there at all.

Father wanted to make one of us a queen. He wanted someone compassionate. Maybe compassion was still in me; maybe not.

But it would never be in her.

As she swallowed, the lump of meat grew thorns. I could almost feel it myself as I directed it, as it swelled inside her throat, tore its way through her flesh. She gagged and choked, and I imagined she gagged and choked on all the hatred she’d let fester for years and years.

I wanted the coldness, the loneliness I felt to be visible to everyone. I wanted those thorns.

Frost sprouted from my fingertips and webbed across the banquet table. She scrabbled for a goblet of wine to try to wash the meat down, but everything turned cold. A guard stepped forward—but she deserved no kindness, no comfort. I never felt her embrace, so why should she feel the same? He withered, cold and empty, before he could reach her.

“What is the meaning of this?” my father cried. “Stop this at once!”

But the cold was radiant, alive now, warming me even as it drew warmth away from everything. The dark thorns in my sister’s throat flourished, drinking up the cold, and twined their way across the table to wrap around everyone’s limbs. My breath hung in the air before me as I stood, untouched, unsnared by the darkness and frost.

I had to beat her. I could not let her win.

And if I could feel no warmth, no freedom without her darkness over me, then neither could anyone.

I do not remember what came next, but it did not come for a long time. Icicles hung from the chandeliers; black thorns sprouted from the walls. All was still and glistening and cold. I walked through the hall like a phantom, soundless, for it was how I felt. But I was all that remained of my sister’s hatred. I was her greed given form.

And I will rule for a thousand years. With this cruelty beating inside me, my sister’s words, her greed, her anger—with the coldness she left inside me—I will rule for a thousand more.

prayer request (urgent)

I ask for prayer for the safety of my sister and my sister’s female friend. They are staying in an airbnb (one bedroom, with a soundproof basement. soundproof) with a man that they have never met in person before. The man seems incredibly sketchy. He has hurt my sister before (online) by being cruel, cold, and manipulative. He seems fake (some things about him don’t add up), immature, and evasive, as well.

He is also the one who specifically picked out the airbnb (with the one bedroom and freaking soundproof basement. so much could happen in that basement). I am getting incredibly bad vibes and premonitions about this entire situation.

Please pray. I feel like something terrible is about to happen.

Waiting to transition is the worst. Watching cis guys be six feet tall and have flat chests and be able to play boy sports and knowing I can’t makes me want to die. I don’t get a childhood. I don’t get to bring girls home and I don’t get birthday cards that say grandson. I don’t get anything but disassociation and self deprecation. When my family tells me that taking away their daughter/sister is cruel, they are ignoring the fact that if I let them keep their precious girl, that they’re taking away my childhood, my happiness, and most importantly my identity. I want to use the boys bathroom and I want to keep my hair short and have girlfriends without being called a lesbian. I’m not a lesbian. I’m not a girl.

‘River on the Rise’ by Debra Blake for Vegetarian Times, March 1988 (Part I)

Film Star River Phoenix says being a vegetarian is the most important role he’ll ever play. 

In Japan they adore him. The teenagers call out to him when he comes to promote one of his films: “Rio! Rio!” they chant. It is their nickname for him. They think he’s the next James Dean. And boy, does he have the looks for it. But smoldering looks and shirt-off-the-shoulder poses aren’t what River Phoenix is all about, and he gets a little embarrassed when he comes off that way. The 17-year-old’s dark clothes aren’t meant to impress. His canvas and rubber high-top boots are unexceptional. Still, it’s hard sometimes to resist just gazing at his blonde-streaked pretty head against the blue Florida sky, or wondering how he lucked into those dark eyebrows.

But he calls you back to what he’s saying, to his simple intensity. “Vegetarianism is a link to perfection and peace,” he’s saying now, and his voice is soft but strong, very sincere. “But it’s a small link. There are lots of other issues: apartheid , vivisection, political prisoners, the arms race. There’s so much going on in this world today, so much ignorance among people. That’s not to say I’m not standing amongst everybody. But the point is, what can we do now? That’s the thing about vegetarianism; it’s an individual’s decision and it’s something you have control over. How many things do we really have control over?”

River Phoenix is one of the lucky ones; he’s an actor making a successful go of it in a tough business. Years ago, he was one of the brothers in the television series Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Later, he got his big break as a spunky but thoughtful kid in Stand by Me, and then as the elder son in The Mosquito Coast with Harrison Ford. He’s in demand now: Producers send him scripts, and this spring he’s scheduled to show up in three new movies: Jimmy Reardon, Little Nikita with Sidney poitier, and Running on Empty

River Phoenix. He’s a big name in Hollywood.

But the River sitting here on the lawn of his parents’ rented house in Florida is only as large as life. He’s not all seriousness and theory. His eyes are warm and welcoming; he laughs easily. Right away you know he’s a regular guy. Still, he’s eager to take advantage of what he calls the “rare opportunity” to discuss issues that really matter to him: veganism, health concerns most teens don’t even know exist, fulfillment in relationships with family and friends, world peace, and change in South Africa.

Do you put much faith into what a 17- year-old says or is he just trying on some ideals for size? In short order, you decide to trust him. He’s had a life unlike most people in the world - one of met challenges, enormous changes and great ideals-and that colors your reactions. He can keep you interested in what he’s saying longer than most people twice his age. So somehow you know he’s sincere. And you see that the “Rio! Rio!” business in Japan and the perfect eyebrows are small parts of a very large picture.


Most of what has been written about River Phoenix weaves his story into the story of his family. And try as you might to see him apart from them, you can’t entirely. They’re part of the big picture. His four younger siblings - one brother, Leaf, and three sisters, Rainbow, Liberty and Summer - also act; Summer and Leaf recently were cast in Russkies, and last summer Rainbow had a role in Maid to Order with fellow vegan Ally Sheedy. Their parents, Arlyn and John Phoenix, manage their kids’ careers, having decided years ago to forgo outside work and commit themselves to the family venture. The entire family is vegan, and they all come across as gentle and kind people who work together like clockwork. River’s history is the history of the Phoenixes, and he’s grateful for and satisfied by being a part of that.

Arlyn Phoenix is also grateful for the family, and she’s unflustered by their success. “You have to understand,” she says, sipping her sorghum-sweetened herbal tea, “that this didn’t just happen to us. We planned it.” Success is part of the Phoenix family mission. It’s why their name is Phoenix. They’re on the rise.

Arlyn and John chose the name phoenix together, years ago, and they nursed their five babies on the twin ideals of love and peace. The couple became vegetarian soon after they met in the ‘60s, but dropped it after moving to Venezuela with a born-again-style Christian group. Several years-and several babies-later, in 1978, they broke from the organization. On their way back to the United States they rekindled their commitment to vegetarianism, taking the cue from their children. 

 River was seven then. He remembers how it began. “On the boat we saw men fishing,” he said. “It was our [the kids’] first time seeing that. And it was the first time that I really saw that meat wasn’t just a hamburger or hot dog or some disguised food on your plate, that it was an animal, it was flesh. It seemed very barbaric and kind of cruel, and me and my brother and sister were all crying and were traumatized. The reality just hit us so hard. Our parents were very sensitive to our feelings. I mean, they were obviously immune to it themselves-meat eating is so much a part of society as a whole and how people eat-but they were very interested in our sensitivity to it, so they were open to us becoming vegetarian.”

Vegetarianism came easily to the Phoenix family. Within the year, with encouragement from Arlyn’s vegan sister, the family also stopped eating eggs and dairy products. “It was hard to give up dairy for a while for a lot of people in my family,” River remembers. “My mom and dad were so used to eating cheese, and it was so convenient. But I said, 'Hey, if we’re doing this thing, let’s go all the way with it.’ The other kids were into it, so my parents said, 'OK, let’s do it.’ And we did.”

It’s been 10 years since anyone in the Phoenix family has worn leather shoes, carried a leather handbag or brought honey into their home. They embrace every possible reason for veganism. They love animals and they believe dairyless eating is better for health. They believe the move away from a meat-centered culture will better support the world’s ecology. Above all, they see veganism as one of the early steps people can take to be conscious of their relationships in the world: relationships with animals, people, and the planet itself. To the Phoenix family, veganism is an essential ingredient of a loving and peaceful world-an extension of the values that motivated John and Arlyn when the two first met. 

I know the producers and writers jeopardized Kara and Alex relationship all along season 2, but let’s imagine for a minute everything was fine and they hadn’t messed up. Let’s pretend the show hadn’t become some sort of parody of itself and their relationship was still the same as it was in season 1.

Can you imagine if Kara had had to choose between National City and Alex in the final?

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And already she knows what it means
To hate oneself and, if you ask her,
She can tell you right away what depression is.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And she comes up to me asking me
Whether or not she is beautiful-
There are boys in her class who whisper
And she cannot find it in herself to keep her head up.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And the weighing machine has become her best friend,
She steps onto it every day 
Asking me if the weight shown on the scale
Is the ‘ideal’.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And when people call her pretty she casts her eyes downwards,
Mumbles a meek 'thank you’ and tells me
She thinks they did it out of courtesy.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And already people are telling her
That 'if you don’t try to dress pretty people won’t like you’-
I’ve seen her look at my dresses and sigh
That she wished she was pretty enough to pull them off.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And when I told her I was leaving to college
She cried for hours and told me that people were right
And that no one was going to stick around to love her
Because she wasn’t what people wanted.

My younger sister is only 10 years old
And her heart has been broken too many times
Despite her tender age and status as a child
And you ask me why I’m climbing on rooftops
Screaming 'let children be children’
Because, what people are taking is their innocence
And my younger sister is only 10.

—  s.r. // my younger sister
EXO Wolf: Reaction to them finding their long lost sister, but she is injured and is a member of a cruel pack

Xiumin: *thoughts* ‘ whoever hurts my sister will die.’

Originally posted by daenso

Luhan: “Who you’re the pack who gave my sister all of those bruises on her arms and legs. Look at the sky, because it will be the last time you’ll see it”

Originally posted by minniedeer

Kris:
You (His sister): “Hey Kris! Why are your hands so bloody?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s just say your old pack won’t bother you anymore” 

Originally posted by wuyifanet

Suho: “Hey sis, let me take care of your cuts. Thank god I found you. You’re safe with me now” 

Originally posted by sooranghaes

Lay: *on his birthday, a few months after the incident* “I wish for my pack members to be healthy and well and my sister to stay by unharmed and healthy”

Originally posted by sehunoh

Baekhyun: “So you’re the alpha who tortured my sister. Prepare to see me often” 

Originally posted by baekhyunsama

Chen: *The alpha from the other pack begged chen to stop torturing him* 
“no can do. You tortured my sister, so I’m just doing what you did to my sister. Not so pleasant is it?”

Originally posted by sooranghaes

Chanyeol: *keep a close watch you * 
You: “Chanyeol, I’m fine now”
“I don’t want to lose you again” 

Originally posted by porkdo-bi

D.O: “You’re safe here. Don’t worry about anything. Are you hungry? Let me make you some food. What do you want to eat?”

Originally posted by sooranghaes

Tao: “I can’t believe you’re here with me.  I thought I lost you” 

Originally posted by pockysooo

Kai: “I missed so much. Let’s restart our memories together, sis” 

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Sehun: “Now that I got the pack that you were in out of the way, want to get something to eat?”

Originally posted by r-velvets

-admin m

To Be Favored (Part 4)

The story goes a little rushed here, haha- I tried to keep it from being too long! Sorry, hope you still enjoy!! 

——————————–

I started getting gifts on my windowsill. They were small things, at first. A small earring. A discarded bracelet. Little things.

I was not naive. I knew they were from the crows. I would see them in the trees not far from my dorm, a small flock of them. I did not touch them or take them, no matter what. Soon enough, there were gifts there every morning. After a few weeks, they became increasingly more precious- it was always jewelry, and often golden. Stunning pearl necklaces, golden rings and bracelets, inlaid with small stones. It was tempting, but I let them be.

And as I did, the flock of crows outside my window grew larger every week.

——

They were following me, now. They were bolder. They would perch in the trees on my route home. They would sit and watch me as I ate outside with Vector. During the mornings, they would fly outside my window and nearly scream until I awoke. They would squawk and shrill to get my attention, would fly near me and sometimes dive at my head as I walked to class. After a while, it became tedious- not yet terrifying.

“What’s up with these crows?” I asked Azriel, coming in from classes.

She looked up at me, suddenly serious. “What do you mean?”

Keep reading

Adventures in the supermarket
  • Ranpo,Dazai and Atsushi went shopping.When Ranpo was strolling around the instant soup section, this happened.
  • Ranpo: *picks and reads a package* Yummy Japanese Soup
  • Also Ranpo: *wipes fake tears, dramatic pose* Dear my fellow Japanese brothers and sisters I can’t believe my eyes!, Why this cruel fate?? You guys deserved much better!Which heartless evil dared to turn you into instant soup?? I will avenge your death!!Oh, man, how dost thou forget this indescribable pain that dwells within me?
  • Dazai: *whispers to Atsushi* Is he dumb or has a really dark humor??
  • Atsushi: Can I say both?
Story time. Involves a sugar baby, a love story in Paris, making an idiot of myself, and one year that aged me fifty

I was studying in France earlier this year and while living across the world, my life in the States was falling apart. I was spending too much money, eating raw pasta and cans of spam in bed while watching Netflix and crying because I was lonely, and French people were very harsh with me. I had taken courses in French at this university, studied endlessly beforehand- translating movie scripts at my work study job, endless French films, podcasts, and when I arrived the cold French exteriors strangers had was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I felt lonely, socially incapable, and could only communicate at the level of a child. People would say disparaging things about my body, or hold me responsible for Donald Trump, or tell me not to speak French at all. Strangers and acquaintances alike showed no empathy as a lugged enormous suitcases up stairs, or asked questions about where classes were, or for directions to complete student insurance. My only friends were English speakers who got on with these things much better than me (one was from French Canada, an Australian had already settled in the previous semester), but I would get drunk in my tiny room alone quite a bit. I’m used to being seen as intelligent and sociable, and this semester shook me to my core. At home, my mother would eventually be arrested and I grew more depressed as I stayed in touch with them. One guy I slept with posted my nudes on the internet. Another invited me to a gala, where I looked beautiful, and didn’t speak to me at all. Another ruined great sex by immediately telling everyone and confirmed my identity as the American slut. I got blackout drunk on a university trip and hooked up with a Brazilian girl in a French boarding school that had been rented, excused myself, spent the rest of the night vomiting in nothing but a pair of overalls, repeatedly hitting the button that activated the shower for thirty seconds. I had no memory of any of this.

But I learned to do things alone. I grew. I forced myself into conversations and realized I didn’t care about looking like an idiot. It still stung.

The academic year finished. I had failed half of my classes because I couldn’t bring myself to go. It was over, and now I would just travel. I went to Italy, Spain, the south of France, Austria, all over. I met with my sister. She can be pretty cruel, always removed because when my mom was arrested, it was for assault after accusing my sister of fucking my father. She’s colder than me though, saying things like how I would look heavier if I didn’t have my chest. “You want to prove you’ve grown and can handle yourself in Europe, that you’re different,” she said after I misread a German train stop, and we were stuck overnight in a station. “You’re exactly the same”.

But before my trip, something incredible happened. I posted on a web site, hoping some kind stranger in Paris would hold a bag of clothes during my travels before I returned home. I put attractive photos up, sifted through dozens of responses, chose one that looked stable. Normal. Booked a bus to Paris. On the way there, someone else messaged me. He looked really kind. He had travelled all across South Asia and sailed across the Atlantic. I told the other guy something had come up, and followed through with- let’s call him Q. We met up at a metro station. I bought him a gift- two books, the Garden of Eden by Hemingway in French, or a blank notebook. “Only an American would buy Hemingway in French,” he laughed, and took the notebook.

He explained that he constantly hosted people for free, and gave bike tours of the city without charge just to meet people. He was the least French person I’ve ever met. I thought that was fantastic.

I originally asked for him to harbor an enormous backpack, but instead of troubling him, I left a small duffel bag. I didn’t want to inconvenience him, since he had also offered to let me stay the night. I would carry an extra thirty pounds around for a month because of this- rainboots and sweaters while I sweated in June in Venice.

We had met at a subway station, he took my gift, we biked around the city and bought ingredients for a salmon tart. I was utterly charmed. I used a city bike, and in between drop off stations, he would let me sit on his handlebars and pedal like a maniac. I gripped his arms tightly as he swerved to avoid cars and pedestrians alike, and we zipped down the Champs-Élysées and spoke in French and English. He gently corrected my mistakes, and mercifully let me feel intelligent for a few moments. We cooked dinner together, laughed about French science shows for children, talked about the best techniques for driving in the snow (he grew up in the mountains), and killed a bottle of wine.

The night reached its end and I readied myself to stay on his futon. Q looked from beyond his door and asked if I was coming into his room. He saw my confusion and explained that he had a better mattress to set up on his floor- or, if I preferred, I was welcome to exactly half of his bed. I’m not sure whether it was the way he always looked as though he was smirking, or whether his arms felt nice as he cycled through the city, but I opted for his bed. It seemed like hours chatting, barely touching, then overtly shifting bodies, then fingers brushed my hair out of my face and we were doing exactly what you might guess. He was so careful and gentle. He traced his fingers around my ears and gave half second massages to my feet. He didn’t last very long, but somehow it was a relief. He didn’t do this for hookups. He was just that kind of person. He told me the next day it had been a long time since he had done that sort of thing, dressed up professionally for his work as an engineer while I tried to desmudge my makeup and make my way back to a bus stop.

He said goodbye at the metro station, we did la bise kissing each other on the cheeks, and he was gone. We would see each other in a month when I had to pick up my bag and return home.

I spent the whole time thinking of him. We talked just before time was up- he messaged me on my birthday. I was so excited. I was in Venice and a bunch of Moldovans had bought me champagne while my sister and I sat on the beach. A friendly guy brought me his jacket as I came out of the water, draped it over my shoulders, and flirted a little, but all that was on my mind was him.

It’s your birthday? He said. That changes everything for the menu. When I came back he baked me a birthday cake with courgettes- zucchinis. It was strangely delicious. The first day we walked around in circles, talking about nothing in particular around the city. Old movies and why I hate sudoku puzzles, reasons why he doesn’t care about football. We spent quality time together in his room. Tu m'excites, he said while fucking me. You turn me on. Bouge pas. Lache-toi la. The next day we travelled to the illicit section of the Parisian catacombs. If you see the police, he warned, run, they do give out fines. People aren’t supposed to be here. I sat on his handlebars and we biked to an abandoned train station after slipping through a construction zone, slipped into a hole that looked like an animal might live in it, and sloshed around in water up to our thighs. It looked like tunnels from Lord of the Rings. He had a headlight and a hand-drawn map. We looked at the graffiti and ate dumplings, and we turned off all the lights so everything was silent and completely dark. While biking back, he laughed. You weren’t scared at all, he said, impressed. A lot of people would yell at me, or lose their minds. You were okay just sitting there and enjoying the quiet. I had been totally out of my element, but I smiled. We zipped by a group of fancy looking Parisians outside of a gallery and made loud beeping noises to rile them. That was perfect, he said of my particular noisy exclamation.

That night we went home and fucked in the kitchen. It was great. On top of laundry. Near his saxophone. Standing up. By his friend’s futon. Afterward, Q stood up and looked outside the window, flashing some neighbors who rolled their shades down, ruffled. We laughed. I went home to my own (superfluous) Airbnb that night but almost got locked in the metro while switching stations, and in doing so lost my keys. My phone was dead, but by some miracle a neighbor let me in the apartment at 1:00 and the door of the place upstairs was unlocked. I crashed to bed. The next morning I was determined to find my keys. I didn’t and was locked in. I had literally tied my clothes together to hop down into a courtyard when my host arrived. I would have to pay 200 euros for a new key (Parisian apartments must have the highest security) but I didn’t care. I saw Q again that night. We fucked twice and despite his work in the morning, we stayed up nearly all night. We talked about staying in contact, and I told him he was the type of person I would want to be with. That’s crazy, he said. You’ve known me for two days. But I feel the same way.

I left Paris. I went back to my home. I got two sugar daddies and a sugar mommy, worked two jobs and took nineteen credits. I used a fake name and number and hid gifts from my family like iPhone 7s. I had threeways and went on shopping sprees. I saved up money, stayed in touch with Q and made up a story about a conference in Paris in January. I planned a trip back. He told me he missed my curls, and me as well. I bought a quarter pound of weed at a time and sold it. I found another boy to bide my time with. He was boring but pretty, and I craved sex as an escape. I hooked up with my ex. We’re good friends, he’s trapped by a family situation, and has only ever fucked me, but he talks down to me in Russian and I like it when he slaps me in the face during sex.

The semester dragged on as my family issues worsened and I studied our elections, ISIS and Syria endlessly. I was so depressed. I gave into old addictions on and off but kept it together. My mother didn’t, but it’s okay.

I’m in Europe now. Meeting up with Q again was one of the greatest disappointments of my life.

I thought I deserved a last hoorah, that whatever powers that be would pity me and start off the fabled 2017 with a cathartic sexual release. He was moving to the Ivory Coast to digitize government files the day before I left Paris. I booked a private Airbnb for three days, since he didn’t have an apartment at the beginning of the month I told him he could stay there, he seemed to accept, asking if it was private, telling me he would reserve the weekend for me. He didn’t. We saw each other only one afternoon. The problem was, I thought I could manipulate him into liking me just the same as one of the people who paid me for my time. It didn’t work. I think I’ve grown too steely and bitter. He like the girl that got so lost trying to find his apartment, she took the metro outside of Paris. He didn’t like the sophisticated me with better clothes and expensive makeup and a slick place to crash. We got lunch together, ate galette de rois together which I couldn’t finish, so I fed it to a crow. He got the lucky feve that you find in only a few slices, a little tchotchke baked into the cake. A French policewoman yelled at me. We walked quietly through museums. We drove through the city in his company car- like a maniac, yet again. Sometimes he would wander off into a completely different room within exhibits. It was pleasant enough, but it was clear he was distracted. He said goodbye to me at a metro stop. I didn’t understand it was the last time I’d see him. I sent a Facebook message telling him I understood his position but that he was welcome to stop by my apartment. He saw the message and didn’t reply the whole night. I cried, put on a face mask and sexted my ex alone. I told my friends we had wild sex and that I’d never have a romance like this one again. I don’t know where I’m going from here. Don’t trust people, I suppose, prioritize yourself, and know when not to push a good thing too far.

I feel so bitter. I’m lucky, young, intelligent, and sitting in beautiful Lisbon as I type this up, but I don’t feel as though I’ll find something like this again. I have men who will Paypal me if I need anything and offer to fly me all over the world. They have pictures with famous hockey players and the Tampa Buccaneers cheerleaders. I don’t care. I’ll go back to my ex, maybe, to avoid the sting of being really alone. He understands me pretty well, even though it’s more of a friendship. This is going to fuck me up so badly, he says, as I ask more and more intense sexual frontiers to be pushed. I’ve thought of that. I care a little, but I need it right now.

Everything here is true. I wish it wasn’t. Wish me luck.

Beauty is Skin Deep

I am the youngest daughter of four. It seems my family wasn’t meant to have sons but my parents have never been ones to care about that sort of thing. They consider themselves blessed to have such a large family, although they had no intention of having any more kids after me. Four was enough.

Although as the youngest I was drowned in affection and attention, I was always jealous of my older sisters. I don’t think I’m alone in being jealous of older siblings; after all they have more freedom than I did at such a tender age. But… my envy wasn’t just over that, it was more petty. Whereas my sisters had been incredibly lucky in the random roll of genetics, I did not consider myself to be. My parents told me otherwise, but that is something all parents do. As I grew into adolescence and they matured into their mid-teens and early adulthood, that envy only grew. My friends told me the same as my parents did, that I was just as beautiful as my sisters; again I put it down to being the kind of thing friends say even if it wasn’t true.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Please please noncon Junkrat x male reader? Au where reader is Junkerqueens brother and rat and hog take over Junkertown and Rat gives himself the reader as a treat?

ok, sorry this took so long! hope ya like this ~ there’s a readmore btw for anyone that sees this post just ending abruptly

You were lucky enought to be in another room when a massive explosion shakes your home base to its core, and you’re quick to grab your hand-made machine gun to run right to its source. After all, it’s not like this was the first time this has happened.

Your sister was known as the Queen of Junkertown, a rough, tough, headstrong woman who always got what she wanted and ruled the Australian settlement with an iron fist. But she adored you, her beloved baby brother. She’d hook around your neck and pull you in for a noogie, playfully calling you her ‘lil joey’ with the biggest of grins.

…But you don’t see her, the sight of the thrown room making your stomach twist and turn with disgust. There’s mangled bodies everywhere, some of them nearly unrecognizable as human, and in the middle of the carnage and the destruction stand two very familiar, very unwelcome faces.

You had barely raised your gun to fire when you were discovered all too quickly, the brief rattling of chains your only warning before a massive hook snags arouns your waist, pulling you forward with impressive force and knocking the firearm from your grasp. Roadhog secures your throat with one single, massive hand, lifting you straight off the ground for your feet to dangle helplessly in the air.

“Oi, big guy!” Junkrat pipes up, nudging his partner’s stomach. “Don’t break ‘em! Who’s gonna be our henches if we leave ‘em all for the buzzards, yeah?”

The massive man merely grunts, opening his fist to let you drop painfully back to the ground, choking for air. “Fuck you!” You manage to spit, fire burning in your eyes. “I’m no one’s slave!”

Jamison gives a hearty laugh, a wicked smile on his face. “Ain’t you the feisty type? Just how I like ‘em!”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as he suddenly reaches for you, but the blonde… suddenly stops, his grin becoming all the more mischievous. “Heeeeey now, you’re Queenie’s lil brother, roight? Her own flesh an’ blood!” Junkrat stands to his full height, hands on his hips and expression victorious. “We caught the motherload, didn’t we Hoggy? We got the town in the palms of our hands, an’ a lil treat to boot!”

…Junkertown, in the palms of their hands? A pit opens up in your stomach, and finally you force yourself to stand, swallowing hard. “Where’s my sister? What did you do to her?”

Fawkes’ laugh is cruel. “Didn’t ya know? She skipped town the second we busted in!” His smile widens. “You get that, roight? She left ya here, with us.”

You hadn’t realized Roadhog had circled around until two strong hands grab you from behind, shoving you down to the floor, pinning you there by your shoulders. Kicking and struggling does nothing to free you as Junkrat settles between your legs, your stomach curling to see the blonde palming his erection through his pants, a hungry look in his eyes as he roughly pulls down your slacks.

“Don’t touch me!!” You demand, panicking as your boxers were the next to go, an ashy hand starting to stroke your limp cock. “Now don’t be that way, darl.” Junkrat coos, managing to force one of your still boot-clad shoes through a pantleg, allowing him to spread your legs nice and wide. “I’ll make ya feel real good, yeah?”

The blonde Junker shifts his hips forward, grinding his bulge against your ass as his fast strokes quickly get you hard, a little bit of precum leaking from your swollen head and helping to lubricate each pump of his hand. “No-!!” Your protest comes out as a whimper, trying to jerk yourself out of Roadhog’s insane grip but failing, the enormous man watching on silently as his partner-in-crime had his way with you.

It feels like your orgasm is starting to creep up on you when the pyromaniac stops, your eyes widening with anxiety as Jamison pulls out his own hardened member, looking down at your helpless form and stroking himself with a sadistic smile.

“Gotta say, almost wish your ~loooovely big sister~ was here to see ya like this.” He sneers, taking one of his pre-covered fingers and beginning to smear it across your asshole, giggling as it made you squirm in horror when he slips a single digit inside of you. “It’d make it all the better when I make ya scream.”

“Stop!” You demand as panic begins to take hold, wincing as the blonde fingered you roughly with lustful glee. “I’m serious, stop it!!”

Jamison makes sure to look you right in the eye, grin widening ans sending chills down your spine before he inserted another finger, making your body tense with the additional stretch.

Ohhhh” Junkrat gave a shudder as he watched your tight ring of muscle hug his fingers, clenching, and the blonde squeezes his own shaft with a look of bliss. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, mate. You won’t even care how it started.” His tone is dreamlike, lost in his own twisted fantasy as he shoots his companion a glance. “Be sure to hold ‘im down for me, got it?”

Mako gives a single nod, the pressure on your shoulders increasing, practically knocking the fight out of you as the shorter Junker presses his cock right to your ass, taking one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. You shake your head wildly, breathless and frozen, still trying to plead with your cruel captors, to no avail.

Junkrat pushes forward, thrusting inside of you all the way to the base, his face only inches from yours as he moans. “Oh hell…” He murmurs, mouth agape and lips quivering slightly. “It’s been… way too long since I had a cute little bugger like you to play with…”

The blonde quickens his pace greedily, working his hips like a rabbit as he fucks you fast and deep with each pound. Tears roll down your cheeks, involuntary grunts and whines escaping your lips as Jamison practically pants above you, overcome with repressed desire as his cock rubs against your prostate. One particular thrust seemed to angle just right, throwing your head back in a loud wail, your neglected cock twitching as it spurts a few gooey strands onto your belly.

A metal hand entwines in your hair forcefully, jerking you into a forceful kiss as Junkrat shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you’re too light-headed and scared to dare to bite him. The blonde is acting rough and greedy, but when you dare to look him in the eye, he’s blushing, tongue slightly hanging out of his mouth. Jamison gives a low, winded chuckle, and you can tell by the way his hands dig into your leg and hip that he must be getting close, each thrust sending your body rocking back and forth. “You ready for me to pump ya full, mate?” The Aussie purrs, his face flushed and red. “Bloody fuck, I wanna cum in you so bad. Paint your insides white an’ watch it drip out.”

The thought of being pumped full of cum makes you clench and shiver, a building orgasm coiling tight in your belly. You’ve been reduced to gasps and whimpers as that hard cock pounds your ass, and finally, you break. You cum, voice embarrassingly loud as you shoot your load onto your stomach and chest, barely missing your face as you felt Fawkes join you, a thick, gooey warmth filling you with each passing second.

You’re dizzy, heart pounding as you barely register two hands pawing at your cheeks, holding you still for another passionate, sloppy kiss. Junkrat lays his forehead against your own, leaning over you with a dopey smile as he soaked in the pleasure of your body, still buried inside of you and plugging you tight.

The new King of Junkertown sighs blissfully, a happy, sated sound. “I guess you’re my cute lil joey now.”

Lena Luthor/you fic pt 19

Originally posted by chriswoods

“Lena?  Lena, can you hear me?”
Rectangles of fluorescent light passed over her head; moving one by one and slowly.  It was the only thing illuminating the darkness clouding her vision.  A light pressure circled the lower half of her face, followed soon after by a cool rush of air.  Oxygen flooded into her lungs as fast as she could gulp it down through her throbbing windpipe.
“Lena, hey, open your eyes for me.”
She fought through the lightheadedness that was threatening to drag her under and gradually her vision cleared enough to make out the face above her.  It belonged to Supergirl.
It belonged to Kara.
Lena struggled to speak, but her throat only clenched shut.
“Hey, it’s okay.  You’re alright; don’t try to speak,” Kara squeezed the woman on the moving gurney’s hand and quickened her pace to keep up with the DEO’s on-call medical team.
Still, her mouth tried to form the syllables to your name beneath the oxygen mask keeping her awake.
“Alex is going to fix her, okay?  We’re going to figure out what happened.”
Lena’s hand gripped her own tighter.  Her eyes, bloodshot and wide, were filled with fear.  
She could hear the uncertainty in Kara’s voice.
———————————————–

“Are you sure that frame can hold her?”  Alex bit her bottom lip uncertainly as scans continued to load onto the monitors in front of her.  Your form had been secured by nine lead-infused straps and you had finally been able to stop moving once they introduced an anesthetic in the form of a gas.  It was the only way they knew how to get anything into your body.  Needs simply snapped in half when pressed to your skin.
“There,” the CAT scan specialist ignored her question and instead pointed at a tiny green dot illuminating the otherwise dull tissue in your neck.  It rested just below the base of the skull, nested within the lighter cylinder that represented your spinal cord.  “It’s something metal; a chip maybe.  That could be what’s making her so hostile.”
“Even on a normal patient, I wouldn’t want to go in there,” Alex murmured.  The spinal cord was a location that no doctor liked to come close to; the fact that the foreign object was also so close to the brainstem just made it more threatening.  “It looks like it’s really bedded in there.”
“Anything yet?”
Kara’s question announced her presence in the room and Alex turned away from the brightly lit displays.  
“There’s something in her neck; it’s probably what CADMUS designed to control Y/N after they…introduced your DNA to hers.”
“They what?”
Alex suddenly regretted admitting that part of what they had found out so far.  She knew that somehow her sister would find a way to blame herself for this.
“They must have had some stored from when they took you captive.  I don’t know how they did it, Kara; I’ve never seen anything like it.  Our real problem is getting that chip out of her.  I don’t know how we’re going to get in there.”
“Well, what if it was me?  If you had to give me surgery or something, how would you do it?”
“Theoretically,” Alex started, “we’d probably expose you to enough kryptonite to rid you of your powers, temporarily.  After that…it should go like a normal surgery as long as your cells don’t recover too quickly.”
“So, can you do the same for her?”
“Your cousin has the kryptonite,” Alex reminded her.  “Can you get some off of him?  I have a case so you could transport it safely—“
“Of course,” the blonde nodded.  Despite the growing weight of guilt in her chest at the fact that her DNA had been somehow used to hurt you, she knew she needed to do all she could right now.  For you and for Lena.
——————————————

“Hey.”
Lena opens her eyes at the sound of Alex’s voice and blinks away the stinging dryness from her worn out contacts.  She swallows as she prepares herself for bad news and winces at the throbbing the minute action triggers.
“Before you try to talk, I need you to listen, alright?” Alex sits on the stool beside the medical bed and puts her hand on the other woman’s arm.  “We ran some scans and found some sort of device in Y/N’s neck.  It’s…it’s going to be a risky procedure, but we’re going to try to cut it out.”
Risky?” Lena’s voice is hoarse and her throat feels as though razors are sliding down it.  
“CADMUS…they merged her DNA with Kara’s.  We’re using Kryptonite to weaken her cells enough for surgery, but we’re only going to have a limited window to pull the device out, and it’s embedded very, very close to her brainstem.”
“The Kryptonite could kill her.”
“Lena, I don’t mean to be this harsh, but it’s our only shot at returning her to, well, her.”
“Are you even sure she’s still in there?  The look on her face when she…”
“Did Kara ever tell you about the Red Kryptonite incident?” Alex squeezes Lena’s arm, knowing exactly what this feels like, and waits for her to shake her head ever so slightly before she continues.  “It was last year and it was…bad.  I saw my own sister mutating into something…cruel and destructive right before my eyes.  She hurt me, the people she swore to protect, and her loved ones without a second thought.  The look in her eyes, Lena…it’s something I’ve never been able to forget.  I doubted that the thing in front of me ever even was my sister.”
“But, you fixed her?”
“I did,” Alex nods and offers a small smile, “and I will do everything I can to fix Y/N too.”
“Thank you, Alex,” Lena whispers.
“Of course.”  Alex gets to her feet and finally releases grip on Lena.  “I’m gonna go start prepping for the procedure, okay?  Kara will be in as soon as she can and she’ll keep you updated.  Get some rest.”
————————————————-

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me in there, but on the off chance that you can…please don’t die on us.  Alex is getting ready for surgery and she’s going to get whatever the hell they put in your neck out, but you can’t die during it, okay?  Lena needs you.”
You can hear Kara loud and clear, despite your inability to respond.  As the anesthetic wears off, your muscles tighten more and more against the straps holding you down.  The ongoing circuit in your brain still tells you to complete your task.  You wonder if this is what being possessed feels like.
Lena.
It registers then that she’s alive.  If Kara really did say she needs you, that means you didn’t kill her.  It means that if you survive and win your free will back, you’re going to have to face her.
You can still feel how warm her neck was as your hands clenched around it.
Kara watches your blank face intently, trying to find any flicker of consciousness.  She wonders if she’s seeing things when your eyes start to shine a little more.  That thought disappears when a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your temple and vanishes into your hair.  
You can feel the warmth too, until Kara’s thumb wipes it away.
“I knew you were still in there,” she murmurs.  Her fingers move to brush through your tangled hair and you can do nothing but lay still and silently allow salty drops to run down onto the metal frame you’re strapped to.
You want to ask how Lena is and how it will ever even be possible for her to move past this.  The agonized questions bundle up in the back of your throat in restrained screams.  Your eyes burn as the tears continue to fall and Kara continues to stroke your hair.  
“You’re going to get through this, Y/N.  You’re a fighter.  I’ve seen you survive and you’ll do it again.”
Part of you hopes that she’s wrong.
The sound of a door opening interrupts the one-sided conversation and Kara’s stool scrapes the floor as she stands.
“We’re going to put her under and introduce the Kryptonite.”
It’s Alex’s voice and your heart starts to hammer in your chest.  You’d think after being faced with death this many times, it wouldn’t still scare you this much.
“I better get out of here then,” Kara sighs and places her hand on yours, just below the strap wound around your wrist.  “I’ll see you in a bit, alright?”
Yeah, you think.  Maybe.

Sam & Dean x Mute!Sister!Reader | Hear My Voice

PAIRING: Sam & Dean x sister!winchester
WARNINGS: some cruel words from John, but nothing horrible. Some of the usual SPN violence

REQUESTED BY; @bumpinthenightchester

A/N: I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER FOR THIS! SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY


•••••


You watched your older brothers play with their toy soldiers, making gun noises with their mouths and bouncing their green soldiers with their hands. You looked down at the doll in your chubby hands, the only doll you had.  You bounced it around on your lap, watching it’s shiny, tangled blonde hair bounce. You babbled to yourself in your four-year-old nonsense words, and went to raise one of its arms, only for it to snap off. Your lip trembled as you wobbled to your feet, doll and its arm in your chubby hands. You made your way to your father, holding them out to him. “Fix, please, Daddy?” You asked, looking up at your father with big, innocent eyes.

“Not now, [Y/N],” he muttered, shuffling through papers.

“Daddy, please?” You asked again, hands resting on his knees, begging with your eyes.

“Not now, [Y/N]! Just stop talking! I don’t want to hear your voice!” He roared, standing. You stumbled back, landing on your bum, the doll and its plastic arm falling from your grip. Your lip trembled, tears leaked from your eyes, and a whimper escaped you. “I said—quiet! I’m sick of hearing you!” John roared, walking out of the motel room, and slamming the door.

Sam and Dean hurried over to you, and consoled you best they could. Dean even popped the doll’s arm back in place and showed it to you, but you continued to silently cry.

And from then on, you refused to speak.


••• 20 years later •••


“Alright, this should be a simple salt and burn,” Dean said, loading his pistol.

You nodded, picking up your duffle bag.

Sam ruffled your hair, leading the way out of the motel room and to the impala, taking your bag from you and tossing it into the trunk.

The ride was mostly quiet, save for Dean loudly singing along to AC/DC.

You caught Dean’s eye in the rearview mirror, and rolled your eyes, grinning, which only made Dean sing louder.

“Could I come again please, yeah them ladies were too kind, you’ve been Thunderstruck!”

Five minutes later, you were filing into the cemetery, searching for Mildred Lewis’ grave.

After hours of searching, you three finally found it.

You sat on the grass at the edge of the grave as Sam and Dean cracked open the coffin. Their heads poked out over the top of the grave since they were so tall, which helped them keep an eye on you.

“Alright,” Dean grunted, climbing out of the hole. He ruffled your hair as Sam climbed out, dusting the dirt off his clothes.

Mildred’s ghost appeared, right behind Sam. You saw her, and couldn’t warn him. You frantically waved your arms and pointed, but he got the message too late. He whirled around to strike her spirit with the iron crowbar in his hands, but she launched him backwards, into a tree.

“Sam!” Dean cried. “[Y/N], help him! I got this!”

He poured lighter fluid over the corpse as you ran to your younger older brother, dropping to your knees beside him as he blearily blinked his eyes, trying to regain focus after having been launched into a tree about as fast as Dean drives the impala.

Mildred appeared above Sam and before Dean could light the corpse on fire, plunged her hand through his chest. Sam screamed in pain as you swing the crowbar he dropped at her. She disintegrated and appeared a few feet away before Dean dropped the match into her grave. She went up in flames, screaming into the night as she disappeared forever.

Sam was groaning in pain, eyes clenched shut from the pain as Dean ran over. You heaved Sam towards your body and rested his head on your shoulder, stroking your fingers through his hair.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Sam groaned in pain, large hand grasping at his chest, where Mildred’s hand had pushed through.

“It hurts,” he panted, voice broken.

“I gotta pull the car around. Stay with him, [Y/N]!”

You barely nodded as Dean ran off, to the impala.

Something wet dripped onto your shoulder, and you looked down to see tears leaking from Sam’s eyes because of the pain. Your heart cracked as you him whimper, a sniffle escaping him.

You swallowed.

“S-Sam-mmy,” you whispered. You felt him tense. “S-Sam. I-it’s go-onna be o-okay.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, and suddenly you felt like the older sibling.

You started humming, the same song Dean would always sing to you when you were much younger, to help you calm down after a nightmare.

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.

You heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine, and it cut off suddenly as Dean ran out of the car.

He came to an abrupt halt as he heard that someone was humming.

That you were humming.

“[Y-Y/N],” he stuttered, shocked. “Y-you’re…”

“W-we need t-to get Sa-am to the h-hospital, Dean,” you stuttered, snapping Dean out of his daze.

“Right.” He wrapped Sam’s arm around his shoulders and helped Sam limp to the car, where he laid him down in the backseat. You sat in the passenger seat as Dean sped off to the hospital.

The next morning, you followed Dean into Sammy’s hospital room.

“S-Sam!” You cried, smiling, happy to see your big brother awake and alright.

“[Y/N]!” He held his arms open for you to hug him, which you did so gently, as to not irritate his wounds. “It’s so good hearing you speak,” he whispered, stroking the back of your hair. “I don’t even remember what you sounded like as a kid.”

Dean gave his little siblings a sappy smile. “Me neither.” He sat in the plastic chair next to Sam’s bed as you say on the edge of Sam’s bed, one leg tucked underneath you. You held Sammy’s hand tightly in your own, taking Dean’s in your other as you have them both a bright smile before Dean pulled you both into a tight hug.

Originally posted by hopelessromanticwithadirtyrnind

Rethought (Timing Part 2)

Marty Scurll x Reader

Part 1

A/N: Sorry if there are mistakes in it.. I’m tired and sleep deprived. But enjoy! I tagged all the people that reblogged it or asked for a part 2:) Let me know how you liked it! Feedback and criticism are welcomed!!

Originally posted by kinghelmsley

I couldn’t believe it the first month they were dating. It felt so surreal. My best friend… the love of my live… he was planning on becoming my brother in law???

Spending time with him or my sister physically hurt me. I felt sick everytime I saw them bill and coo over eachother. When Marty kissed my sister I wanted to puke and scream at him and slap my sister across the face. But I didn’t. Even if had troubble keeping this facade up, I wouldn’t interfere in anyway. I felt so conflicted. I love them both dearly, but I just couldn’t be happy for them just yet. After all this was the guy I always thought I’d marry!

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‘Tis The Time For Love

MASTERLIST

This is my contribution to the Secret Santa challenge as hosted by @oneshot-shit and @marvel-ash.

My prompt was a wreath and I’m the Secret Santa of @blueinkandgoldpapyrus. She requested a fluffy/smutty Bucky x reader. I really hope you enjoy my little present! Fingers crossed!


Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t want his best friend to be alone on Christmas day, so he sets him up on a blind date. It’s love at first sight.

Warnings: it’s fluffy, has maybe one word that could be considered inappropriate and there are references to sexual activity.

Word count: 1.880

Originally posted by sebastianyoufucker

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