one of a kind body chain

Ten Feet Over Pt 1

Word Count: 3.8 k Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used. Warnings: Violence, language, lite smut. 


This is a dark story. Please be warned. If dark angst isn’t your bag, don’t read it. Take care of your hearts and heads. Oh yeah and a Toni Braxton inspired this story. Go figure. I am very scared to post this. Please be kind.

Fifteen months. 

You two had just crossed the one year mark, celebrating by driving to Indianapolis for the Rush concert and having sex in every corner of your Motel 13 room. It had been one of Billy’s favorite weekends since moving to Hawkins and you couldn’t hear The Body Electric without grinning to yourself and feeling tumultuously horny. 

In your living room, you thought back to that weekend while fiddling with the yellow gold leaf pendant hanging from the thin necklace chain over your clavicle. It had been a birthday gift from Billy, a week late since he had been grounded on your actual birthday and couldn’t make it out to the bonfire party your best friend threw. Night Court played on the television, but it could have been static. You weren’t paying attention at all, just dragging the pendant from cheek to cheek and going over better memories in your mind. Every now and then, your thoughts would be interrupted with the same question, “Does he care?“ 

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anonymous asked:

“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.” with Kylo Ren because I want to see how you write for him :) (p.s. i love you and your writing it makes me emo)

He fights like a wounded animal – dangerous and quick and biting with red eyes and scathing battle cries. His movements are true terror, they feed off the fear; grace is gone, instead it’s anger that flourishes the crackle of his saber. 

His words, bellowed and hoarse, echo in your mind.


Kylo’s foot sweeps, a heavy hand striking his opponent down and you close your eyes tight and press yourself tighter to the wall. Your knuckles are white, gripping the sheer plaits of your night gown. A body hits the floor and you wince. The officer who had whispered rescue and pulled you from your quarters – a Resistance officer whose name maybe you once knew – is dead at your feet.

His hair is wild; inky locks tangle with the sweat along his forehead as his chest heaves and his light-saber extinguishes in his balled fist. Kylo’s footfalls are heavy against the floor, and where he once showed concern? That emotion is gone. Fleeting. Instead, the burn of annoyance and hatred returns. 

Back to the regularly scheduled programming.

Storm-troopers have gathered, blasters at the ready. Kylo’s voice is clipped. “Search the hangar. I doubt this was a one manned mission.”

Your eyes are steady on the face of the man at your feet. Sleep had been ripped from your mind by this man – he’d tugged you from bed with a gentle hand and promised freedom… Freedom you had. You were bound here by no chains – just a commitment to your ensuring the safety of your people and a commitment to Ben Solo.

(He’d been your bodyguard once as a young senator – a kind, gentle boy.)

“Why’d he come for you?”

It’s biting. Only then do you tear your eyes from the body. Ben… Kylo is dressed in a loose, dark tunic and matching pants. He’d clearly woken to your screams – his shirt is half tucked in, hair wild and feet bare. He looks younger, less terrifying

Your voice is soft. “He must have thought…”

“Must have thought, what?” Kylo sneers, “You’re being held captive by a monster?”

You wince. You’re slow to stand, gathering your gown and paling as the body rolls off the hem. Your curls are wild, contained by no elaborate braid like usual, and you feel vulnerable

You’re beautiful, and Ben hates that he thinks so.


You’re ushered back to your room by Phasma, and Kylo doesn’t bother to linger. 


Art Challenge Thursday! This one is brought to us by @sheilkuroi where we had to create a deity of a galaxy/nova ect. So I had a Veil Galaxy and …. I tried. I like how the lineless form came out but I kind of wish I had created more of the veil around his body… Always will see corrections haha 

Check out the amazing pieces by the other artists - @sheilkuroi @kaizuart @chikao-art @caromellarts @liaamari17 @crimson-chains 

They are breathtaking! 

Chain Mages

Magic’s full of unique and exciting characters and worlds. While Chain Mages aren’t exclusive to mtg, I would still like to share my appreciation for them. Join me as I explore this exciting magic.

(Hijack: Ixalan) (Art by: Svetlin Velinov)
(Chainer, Dementia Master: Torment) (Art by: Mark Zug)
(Zulaport Chainmage: Oath of the Gatewatch) (Art by: Chris Rallis)

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

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Paying Homage

Summary: Natsu and his buddies head out for the night, meeting up with their girlfriends. The girls bring along a friend of theirs that completely turns Natsu’s world upside down. 

A Nalu AU Smut Commission for @aethirium ! Thanks for coming to me with this idea Aury! <3

Rated “M” for Strong Sexual Content and Public ‘endeavors’

Natsu leaned against the bar and knocked back another shot of whiskey. On either side of him were his buddies, Gray and Gajeel, as they waited for their girlfriends. Apparently, Juvia and Levy were bringing along some girl they knew who was visiting from out-of-town which only made him scoff. It wasn’t the first time his friends had tried to set him up with someone. The last chick they introduced him to was some overly-perky veterinarian and that definitely hadn’t worked out. Nevertheless, they persisted in their search for Natsu’s dream girl, unaware that their quest may come to an end sooner than they anticipated.

While the bartender was pouring him another round, all three gentlemen were soon standing at full attention as the group of girls cut their way through the crowd to join them. Natsu had to admit that Juvia and Levy both looked great but the blonde they brought with them? Absolutely breathtaking. The blonde bombshell wrapped in a skin-tight, black cocktail dress was introduced as ‘Lucy’ and the firefighter had to remind himself to blink whenever he looked at her. The six of them soon migrated to the far corner of the bar, the random pair following their chattering friends silently.

After a couple drinks and some serious flirting, the three girls soon took off for the dancefloor and the three guys took a joint breath. Natsu was amazed at the effect the newcomer had on him. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her. Just standing beside her at the bar made him feel like his skin was on fire. They’d gotten pretty cozy, her delectable curves pushing up against him as he ordered their next round. The girls had all but torn her away from him but the show they were putting on seemed to be worth it.

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Of Comforting Hands (Elriel)

Angst with a fluffy ending. Written for this prompt: ‘Elain helping Az when he has some sort of breakdown’.

He dreamt of fire, of flames scorching a path up small, vulnerable hands. He dreamt of brothers laughing cruelly, of the smell of burnt flesh, of screaming he barely recognized as his own. The pain was immense, even in this twisted version of reality, the fire biting into his hands with the kind of mindless viciousness that nature often wrought.

Cauldron, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt and he was screaming for help, crying out for it, but no one came, no one came. Fingers dug into his shoulders and arms, holding him down so he that he couldn’t move back from the fire. He struggled with all his might but his wings, useless things, were tied to his body and his legs were chained and even if he were free, his brothers were so big, how was he supposed to fight them and win?

Azriel screamed and screamed and screamed.

In his true memories, his screams had finally gotten loud enough to attract a wayward servant. But in his dreams, in his nightmares, his screaming did nothing but make his brothers laugh harder, make their hold tighter as the fire continued to climb up his blistering, melting skin. 

The fire was almost at his face now, the smoke in the room thick and black and choking him even as his body burned to the bone. He wanted it to end, please he just wanted it to end.

Make it stop. Stop. Stop. Please– 

And then there was a blissfully familiar voice – so gentle, so different from the screams of his nightmares. 

“Azriel,” the voice said, sweet-sounding but rife with worry, “Azriel, wake up. It’s a nightmare.” 

The fire wasn’t stopping, it wasn’t slowing. It was going to burn him alive

Wake. Up.”

Azriel sat up with a wild, near-silent gasp, his eyes opening to the calm serenity of his bedroom. He barely managed to stop his shadows bursting from him, the sheer panic almost enough to make him lose control. He tried to calm his thundering heart, tried to stop the shaking of his scarred hands, but the nightmare was still right there, living on his mottled skin. It was getting hard to breathe.

“Azriel?” Elain asked at his side, delicate hands hovering over him.

Elain. Lovely Elain. Mother above, I wish she didn’t have to see me like this. She didn’t deserve to be stuck with someone so utterly broken inside, not after all of her own struggles. He would never forgive himself for the first time she woke him mid-night terror, when he’d almost hurt her in his delirium. The nightmare he’d had that night had been particularly bad… because worse were the nightmares where the fire wasn’t burning him, where it burned Rhys or Cassian or Mor or Feyre… or Elain. Mother and Cauldron both, what he would give to never see those images in his head ever again. What he would give to protect her, to protect all of them, from the darkness he very literally brought everywhere with him.

(And yet he couldn’t find it in himself to push her away now… or ever. His brothers were right, after all. He was weak.)

“Just – give me a moment,” Azriel finally managed to say with a shuddering breath. He turned so his legs were hanging off the bed, letting his head fall into hands for a long moment (he didn’t have to keep looking at them like this). His eyes stung with unshed tears.

And he couldn’t – he couldn’t breathe properly.

“Oh Azriel,” Elain said, cool fingers finally making contact with him. One hand curled around the back of his neck, thumb gentle against the hinge of his jaw, while the other took hold of his trembling bicep. She didn’t let go for even a moment as she climbed closer to him, until she was plastered against his side, leaning her forehead against his temple.

“Breathe with me,” she whispered, her fingers ever so soft as they traced circles into his sweat-glistened skin.

Azriel gulped in one breath. Then another. And another. And another… until he felt his chest rise and fall in time with Elain’s. Something like relief shuddered its way through him. It hadn’t been so bad this time. 

He lifted his head, shocked to find his cheeks wet. Elain gazed at him with heavy eyes, but a small, proud smile played at her lips. She took his face in between her hands, thumbing away the only physical evidence of his nightmares. Slowly, so slowly, she pulled him down to her, placing a soft, soft kiss on his forehead.

Azriel felt something desperate release in his chest and suddenly couldn’t keep his scarred hands away from her anymore. He wrapped both his arms around Elain’s slight body, pulling her into his lap, her legs dangling between his. Elain wrapped her own arms around Azriel’s neck as he bent down to rest his head against her chest, his ear over her heart. Her fingers combed through his sleep-mussed hair as she hummed faintly under breath, rocking slowly back and forth with him.

She was so small in his embrace, so slight compared to his bulk, but Azriel felt completely wrapped in her, completely surrounded by her soothing, familiar scent. He found his fingers tangling in her thin nightdress, his eyes gradually closing. Elain’s arms tightened around him, her humming only pausing so she could kiss the top of his head.

Now was not the time for talk, they both knew. That could come tomorrow, along with everything else. For now, all he wanted to do was sit here, wrapped in Elain, the steady thump of her heartbeat and that soft humming of hers forever soothing him.

And, when Elain was plagued by visions, when her own sleep became plagued by nightmares, Azriel would do the exact same for her. He would sit with her and soothe her and he would wait. He would always wait for her to be ready.

As she would for him.

Black Eyed Monster - Hour Six

Originally posted by fider131

Series Masterlist

Summary: Before her sixth injection, the reader escapes her shackles, trying to run away from the monsters in her head that are being created by the mixture of human and demon blood….

Request: No

Pairing/Characters: Dean x Demon!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley (mentioned), Monsters (in her head) 

Word Count: 1281

Warnings: angst, delusions, injections of blood, language, physical abuse

A/N: if you’re wondering, yes the gif is supposed to be like that. Other note, this part is pretty graphic. If you guys get confused with this chapter, just ask me in my messages and i’ll explain what you didn’t understand. There’s a lot going on. Also, I’m loving all the messages and comments about this series :) you guys are literally so amazing! 

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” (Y/N) whispered to herself over and over again. The dungeon had gone dark once the boys left to figure out a plan on how to conquer the images that were floating around (Y/N)’s head. Her heart was beating a million miles per hour. Everywhere she looked, shadows danced past her, twirling around her. Her hands were shaking, making the chains she was in jiggle. She wanted Dean, but he was nowhere to be found and it wasn’t like she could go to him. Only 3 more injections, she thought to herself.

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Lucifer and the Cage

About this post.

@greieba Thank you for mentioning that, because I wanted to rant about that for a while now.

Yes, of course Lucifer is evil. (If you define evil as doing bad things like murdering and torturing people. He definitely does that. I usually don’t like the word evil, though, when describing someone as a person, but that’s a completely different post.)

And yes, the show and the writers definitely see it as a given that Lucifer tortured Sam in the cage.

It doesn’t make any sense though, if you look at it, and I firmly maintain that it’s bad writing for his character. Here’s why:

Lucifer and the truth

Lucifer in s5 was introduced as someone who takes great pride in not lying. And it’s shown more than once that he really does not lie. He doesn’t try to trick Nick into saying yes. He doesn’t promise him anything he can’t keep. He also doesn’t try to trick Sam. This behavior is even very clearly contrasted to the way Zachariah lies to Dean and threatens him.

So when Lucifer tells Sam that he won’t hurt him, we have no reason to believe he doesn’t mean it. None at all.

Of course he could’ve meant it then, because he thought he’d win anyway, and changed his mind, when they were back in the cage. Maybe he was so angry that he forgot about his promise. But you don’t lash out in anger for over 80 hell years, even if you’re an archangel. Over 80 hell years of torture imply that it was planned and done in cold blood. Also …

“If you win, you jump into the pit”

Lucifer knew what Sam had been planning. Lucifer knew that Sam was only saying yes to him, because he wanted to jump into the pit. It’s not like Sam had successfully deceived him there. It wasn’t like Sam had betrayed him in any way. The conditions of him saying yes were very clear. If Sam wins their mind wrestling match, they jump into the pit. Lucifer states that, before possessing Sam. There’s no doubt Lucifer is pretty arrogant, but taking that risk and then getting super angry at Sam, when he actually manages to do what he had planned? I don’t see that happening, sorry.

So, that rules anger out as the reason for the torture. That leaves boredom. But …

Lucifer and his vessels

Lucifer is shown treating his vessels with nothing but respect. He plays a few mind games with Nick and with Sam by showing up in the form of dead loved ones, but that’s the only even remotely bad thing he does, when it comes to his vessels. Instead he is honest with them and he is very patient and understanding with Sam. Even after he won and possessed Sam.

I think the last part is very important. Lucifer has what he wants, but instead of just keeping Sam under and going about his business, he talks to Sam and tries to comfort him in a way. He goes and kills people that have hurt Sam. He tries to spare Dean and only attacks him after Dean doesn’t keep out of the fight with Michael.

Respect for his vessels is a trait that they even kept in later seasons. Whatever he promises them for saying yes, he delivers. And even after changing his clothes in s13, he still wears Nick’s wedding ring. He could’ve thrown that thing away, but it meant a lot to Nick, so he keeps it.

I don’t know about you, but I think that doesn’t sound like someone, who would spent decades torturing his true vessel just because he’s bored.

So what happened?

Well, the writers say torture by Lucifer’s hand is what happened, so all we can do is fix that plothole via headcanon. There are several possibilities of what could’ve happened that would fit into canon and make more sense. After all Sam’s memories of his time in the cage are pretty fuzzy and Hallucifer was nothing but a hallucination fueld by Sam’s trauma, own suicidal tendencies and general problems with self worth.

One possibility is that it wasn’t Lucifer, but Michael, who tortured Sam, but personally, I don’t think that fits either. Michael might not care much for humans and Sam especially, but he’s still an angel and he wouldn’t act downright evil without a purpose.

Another possibility is that both archangels hurt Sam’s soul just by existing. We know that Raphael’s first vessel was catatonic after Raphael left, and Jimmy described being an angel’s vessel as “being chained to a comet”. So just being too close to an archangel can be unpleasant or do severe damage. In the cage Sam was close to not just one but two archangels and his soul was without a body most of the time, so without any kind of barrier between him and angelic grace.

A third possibility is that the cage itself did … something. We know that Michael went crazy in the cage, and that could be just from being locked up for so long, but it could also be that being in the cage is bad for your health in general. And maybe Lucifer learned how to deal with that, but Michael didn’t manage it. And when an archangel fails at that, what hope does Sam have?

The 120 Apostates

You know who doesn’t get any headcanon? The Sheikah monks entombed within the shrines. Stick with me on this one, it’s a bit to get through.

1. a person who renounces a religious or political belief or principle.

Lets start with a few things we can infer from the game before branching out into the unknown. There are 120 shrines within the world of Breath of the Wild, inside each of them are one of one-hundred and twenty monks. The shrines are of the same technology as the divine beasts, guardians and the Shekaih slate as evidenced by the presence of Guardian Scouts within them and the interactivity of the Sheikah slate with each shrine. I propose that those 120 Sheikah are responsible for the creation of that ancient technology. 

“But wait!” I hear you proclaim. “That technology was created 10,000 years ago. That would mean those monks have been in there for 10,000 years!” Yes. Yes it does. After all, the shrines are still sealed in the memories we see of pre-calamity Hyrule. I highly doubt they would have been opened any time in the history of that era seeing as Zelda has no idea how to access them despite her extensive knowledge of the tech.

Something else we know is that after leaving the Great Plateau, most of the shrines require the Runes obtained from the Plateau to complete. This suggests that the shrines were set up with a deliberate and intended order of completion, at least in so far as the four on the plateau needed to be completed before any off of it. The Great Plateau also houses the Shrine of Resurrection, which I think is far from a coincidence. This was planned.

Here’s where it goes off the rails. The Calamity was an inside job.

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soulmates see color (IzuMito)

Happy late birthday @elenathehun​.  I wrote IzuMito like you wanted ^.^  💕 

(AO3 link - contains all author notes)

This is fucking ridiculous.

Izuna drags a hand down his face, closing his eyes to the massive warehouse full of various merchandise, and sincerely regrets asking his father for this mission. He certainly hadn’t wanted to accompany Uncle Kenrou’s group to the western desert with his brother (of all miserable places), but he also hadn’t realized at the time that he’d have to track this group of thieves south and east to cut over nearly the entirety of Hi no Kuni, sneak past patrols from several different clans (most of whom would love to kill him), and then curve back upwards to stop within kunai-throwing distance of the Yu no Kuni border.

And now he’s finally caught up to his quarry, except they’ve already sold his client’s priceless (and pointless) trinket to a merchant.

A very successful merchant.

One who possess an unnecessarily large stock in his opinion and is either the most disorganized and eclectic woman Izuna’s ever come across or who has evidently met her soulmate and decided afterwards to implement a color-based organizational scheme among her products.

Which makes this night so much better given that to him everything just looks like a mass of yellows and grays with a scattering of blues.

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The Salty Tang of Blood (Sensations Running Hot)

Late night meetings with the Varia go something like this:

“You know, most people come up to my door, knock and say, ‘this person would like to meet with you.’ They don’t climb up to my window, pick the lock, and then carry me out over their shoulder like a bag of potatoes.”

And that’s even before the captured assassins out for his blood or the power plays come into it.


Read it on A03: link


“You know, most people come up to my door, knock and say, ‘this person would like to meet with you.’ They don’t climb up to my window, pick the lock, and then carry me out over their shoulder like a bag of potatoes.”

Squalo rolls his eyes. He knows the fuss Sawada puts up is cursory, simply because his tutor would most likely kill him if he didn’t make some kind of effort to save himself. Also because the Old Man still thinks the Varia and Sawada are at war, despite the fact that Xanxus and Sawada hashed their shit out a while back.

“I’m Varia, brat. I don’t take the easy method.”

“I’ll say. You could have saved yourself twenty-five minutes and a countless amount of energy and strain if you’d just walked to my door like everyone else.” He can feel Sawada’s glare against his spine. “Do you even remember that you’ve got a false heart now instead of the real one?”

He scowls, not that Sawada can see it. “Fuck off, brat. I don’t need your pity.”

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Order from Your Commander (part 7)

Originally posted by bellarke

Request: part 7, filled with badass Bjorn and pretty much nothing else 

Word count: 3,429 

part 6

It was roughly 3 AM when Y/n woke up with a start. There was a crash outside her door, but then everything went quiet. The only sound was of the rain pounding on the window and the fire crackling in the fireplace. She threw the covers off of her, reached down to grab her sword, and stood up from her bed. She crept toward the door silently, stepping over all the places in the floor that normally creaked. The door handle turned slightly and Y/n jumped behind the door, her weapon at the ready.

A large, burly man with scars running up and down his face marched into the room. Y/n tiptoed behind him, and lifted her sword, but before she could bury the sword in his skull, a huge hand covered her mouth. She attempted to scream out when a metal syringe was plunged into her neck. Her capturer pushed clear liquid into her veins. Her vision became clouded with circles and stars, her consciousness wavered, and then her body went limp.

The two men carried her body to the balcony. Over the edge were three more men. The two on the balcony pushed Y/n’s body over the edge and the three men below caught her unconscious body. The two above, once done with her body, jumped down too. And just as quickly as they showed up, they were gone.

The sun the next morning was not shining as clouds still blanketed the sky. An air of foreboding lingered in the air as Bellamy got up from bed. His mind was still racing with thoughts of the conversation of last night with Y/n. He was confused more than anything, but he was also nervous with how today was going to go.

But when he exited the room and entered the dining hall, everyone was frantic. Bjorn looked pissed and scared, and the rest of the guards seemed about the same. Bellamy searched the room for the rest of the Sky People, and couldn’t find a single one of them. Apollo ran by Bellamy hastily.

Bellamy reached out and grabbed Apollo’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“The Commander’s missing.” Apollo replied curtly.

Bellamy felt his heart rate and anxiety increase. Just a few hours ago, he was having an intense conversation with her and now she was gone. He ran out of the room to the room Octavia and Harper were staying in, but they weren’t there. He ran to the room where he, Murphy, and Miller were staying but Miller and Murphy weren’t there. He decided to check the Round Room. Inside, Octavia was pacing and pulled Bellamy into a hug. “What’s going on?” He asked again.

“We don’t know. All we know is Y/n’s missing.” She replied. Bellamy nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but the door opening cut him off.

Bjorn barged into the room He looked hysterical, as if every wheel in his head was turning. He traded a glance with each of the Sky People.

“Did any of you have anything to do with this?” Bjorn spoke calmly, but his voice was laced with anger. Bellamy felt that Bjorn didn’t honestly think any of them did it.

Bellamy shook his head and crossed his arms. “Would we still be here if we did?”

Bjorn wiped a hand over his face and sighed. He was tired and the lines on his face showed it. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. “She’s in pain.” He said randomly. They all looked at Bjorn with looks of confusion.

Bjorn cleared his throat. “The Ice Nation believed that a natural born commander develops a bond with their second. The bond allows the two to feel the emotions and physical sensations of one another, so one can know if the other is hurt. That’s how I know she’s in real trouble.”

The Sky People were shocked. They never heard of anything like that. In a lot of ways, it helped them understand his pain more. They obviously knew what it was like to lose people, but neither of them could imagine being able to feel that. Bellamy bowed his head and felt an overwhelming sadness.

“We’ll do whatever we can do to help you find her.” Bellamy said. Bjorn gave him a nod that seemed to say ‘thank you’.

“But who would want to hurt her?” Octavia questioned.

Bjorn walked around the table and sat in his seat. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Lots of people. She’s a commander after all.”

“Maybe those men we killed yesterday had more men.” Harper suggested.

Bjorn nodded as if he hadn’t thought about that yet. His mind immediately assumed it was the Ice Nation. “We’re sending men to search the woods. Apollo and a few other s are headed to Polis to tell Lexa what happened.” He paused and looked at Bellamy. “Can I speak to you alone?”

The Sky People nodded and rose from their seats. Bjorn went to close the door after Octavia walked out. Once alone, Bellamy asked, “You can feel everything she’s feeling?”

Bjorn nodded and swallowed thickly. “She’s afraid and hurt, which is why I need your help. I know you have feelings for her-” Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but Bjorn continued, “and I believe you will do whatever it takes to get her back.”

“She saved our lives. Of course I would.” Bellamy replied.

“I think the Ice Nation has her.”  
Bellamy didn’t know what to say. He assumed that after years of freedom from the Ice Nation, they’d leave the Free People alone. Maybe the Ice Nation was waiting until they got comfortable in their new sense of freedom. Maybe it wasn’t the Ice Nation at all. All Bellamy knew was that he had to help- he wanted to help.

At Bellamy’s silence, Bjorn continued. “I know you have more people. We don’t have enough fighters to go to Azgeda alone.”

Bjorn’s long blond hair was disheveled and when he ran his fingers through it, it only seemed to make it worse. His exasperation was enough for Bellamy to know Bjorn was sincere in his need for help.

Bellamy cleared his throat. “We’ll go to Arkadia and ask for men.”

Bjorn nodded and then moved for the door. “We leave now.”

Bellamy rounded up the rest of the Sky People. He caught the up on the plan, and they all seemed to think the same thing: if it was Ice Nation, would they really want to get in between a potential war? If they were thinking it, they knew Clarke would already be thinking the same things as well.

Bjorn rallied a small group of men to follow to Arkadia and the rest, the ones who weren’t going to Polis and those not searching the woods, were to be ready when they got back. Bjorn strapped a sword in a sheath to his back, covered himself in leather armor, and braided his hair in what Bellamy assumed was typical Freekru fashion. Bellamy vaguely remembered a few braids in Y/n’s hair when they went to talk to Lexa.

The small army marched the fifteen miles between the Freekru camp and Arkadia. The silence was palatable as all of their thoughts were surrounded around Y/n and who could have taken her.

“Kidnapped twice in two weeks? Gotta be some kind of record.” Murphy whispered to no one in particular.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you one of her kidnappers?” Bjorn retorted. Murphy rolled his eyes and they fell into silence again.

The bag covering Y/n’s head was hastily removed and thrown to the side. Her eyes dazedly focused in and out on the room around her. She still felt groggy from the sedative her captors gave her. Her body, which felt heavy and weighted, was chained to a post that her back was against. Her arms were tied around it and her legs were tied together, but she was sitting down. Y/n’s neck was also chained to the post.

A cold bucket of water was thrown onto her face. She sputtered and stirred, coughing out the water that got into her mouth. Her eyes snapped open. A large man with scars covering his face and white war paint highlighting his ugliest features crouched in front of Y/n in a condescending manner. He smiled, but his eyes were practically red with rage.

“Y/n, Commander of the Free People,” The man hissed. “What a dumb name. Is that really what you’re calling yourself?”

Y/n eyed the man, but didn’t open her mouth to speak or move a muscle. She just glared. The man laughed and scratched the scruff on his chin. “I remember you as a talker.”

Silence again.

The guard frowned. “Don’t want to talk, huh?” He rose from his crouch and leisurely walked over to a wall covered in weapons: swords, knives, axes, etc lined the wall, smiling cynically down at Y/n. The guard eyed each torture instrument, and reached out to grab a small, but extremely sharp knife. He came back to be face to face with Y/n. He twirled the knife in his hands, the flames from the torch dancing across the steel blade.

Y/n gave no signs of nervousness, but her heart rate increased. She swallowed the lump in her throat. The guard took the knife by the butt. “I think I know how to make you talk.”

He took the knife and cut the leg on her pants to reveal her just-stitched wound. He smiled wickedly when he saw the stitches. Y/n knew almost instantly what he was thinking. Without warning, he dug the knife into the wound, obliterating the stitches and reopening the gash. Y/n screamed out in pain at the top of her lungs. Tears streamed down her face as she hissed in pain. Her breathing was heavy. Her chest heaved up and down in between words. She looked down at her leg as blood ran from her wound and down to the rock solid ground. The pain shot up her leg like electricity, and it took everything in her not to cry out in pain again.

“You ready to talk?” The guard asked, wiping the bloody blade clean on his shirt.

She bore holes into his skull with her eyes, hatred pouring out in every blink. Her breath was still heavy and sweat was starting to fall down her forehead. She began to feel weak from the blood loss.

“Why are the Sky People with you?” The guard asked. Y/n did not speak. At her continued silence, the guard took the knife and nicked the skin above the already opened wound. Y/n hissed in pain.

The guard sighed and rolled his eyes. “Tonight’s gonna be a long night.”

The gates to Arkadia rolled open as the group approached. They entered and were greeted by guards and guns. Once the guards recognized the group’s leader, they lowered their guns and ushered the group through. Bellamy led the Free People to the drop ship where Clarke, Kane, and Abby were.

“Clarke, Kane, Abby- this is Bjorn, second in command to Y/n Y/l/n, leader of the FreeKru. They’re the ones that helped us track down those Grounders.” Bellamy introduced.

“And?” Kane asked.

“And…it’s time to repay that debt. Their commander is missing and they need our help.”

Bellamy spent the next hour catching them up on all the things that happened while they were gone. He tried to include as many details as he could, except for the little moments he shared with Y/n, and he even included the bit about Mount Weather to appeal to their emotional sides. Once finished, Kane, Abby, and Clarke spoke in hushed whispers.

Kane cleared his throat, “And you think the Ice Nation is behind this?” Bjorn and Bellamy nodded.

“We have to help them.” Clarke said.

“It’s too dangerous.” Kane retorted.

Bjorn laughed, despite nothing being funny. “Unfortunately, it was dangerous for us to help you all with those rogue Grounders, but we did it anyways. In the process, you all signed a treaty of sorts when you asked for our help. Refusing to help is breaking that treaty.”

Kane crossed his arms and couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Is that a threat?”

“No, just a reminder.” Bjorn replied, but sighed moments later. He scratched the back of his neck. “Look- she’s my family, the only one left. I can’t get to her on my own. From what I can tell, you Sky People care a whole lot about family.” He paused and made sure Kane was looking directly at him, “She may not be your family, but she did save your family. She deserves your help.”

Kane and Bjorn eyed each other; Kane noted the sadness and worry in Bjorn’s blue eyes. Kane’s features softened and he uncrossed his arms. Clarke looked similar to Kane, like she wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how. Abby showed very little emotion.

“Bellamy, what do you think?” Clarke said, turning the attention from Bjorn and Kane to Bellamy. He was caught off guard by the question, and took a second to reply.

“Uh, well, um…Bjorn’s right. We made a promise that we’d help when they helped us catch those Grounders. Plus,” He couldn’t hide a slight smile, “they defeated the Ice Nation. Probably not a group we wanna piss off.”

Bjorn smiled too. “Yeah that too.”

Kane asked for the Free People to step outside so they could talk to Bellamy, Octavia, Miller, Harper, and Murphy alone. Kane and Abby wanted to hear the story without the Free People in the room.

Bjorn waited patiently outside for ten minutes while the Sky People deliberated what to do. But in those ten minutes, Bjorn felt another twinge of pain and more anxiety rush through him. Every single second he waited, she was getting closer to death.

Bellamy exited the drop ship and pushed a gun into his chest. Bjorn took it in his hands and stared down at Bellamy. “You’re gonna need that.” Bellamy said. He smiled slightly up at Bjorn. Bellamy turned away from him and toward the growing group. “Let’s move out!”

Y/n continued to sit, chained to a pole, in darkness. The blood was no longer running down her leg, but was running from a gash in her arm and another below her collarbone. Her vision was blurry, and if it wasn’t for the Nightblood running through her veins, she’d be long gone. But she wasn’t, despite wishing she was.

In the darkness, all she could feel was her heartbeat and Bjorn’s anxiousness. She could smell her own blood and sweat. She could feel the freezing metal behind her. She swallowed and it tasted like salt.

The guard from earlier opened the door and carried a tray with him. He slid it across the floor so it landed at Y/n’s feet. She could make out the vague shapes of food. The guard walked behind her and unchained one of her hands so she could eat. She waited until the guard left to dig into the tasteless food. It was not satisfying in any way, but it was going to help keep her alive.

She sighed when finished. How did she end up in this situation? She still couldn’t tell where she was at; she wasn’t able to get a good look at the guard’s face. She knew that Bjorn was working to find her, but with time moving in slow motion, it felt like she was never going to go home.

She couldn’t help but think about the Sky People, especially Bellamy. She wondered if they were helping look for her, or if they left when the going got tough. She hoped in her heart that she was over thinking it. But with her current situation, hope was dangerous.

Hours felt like they passed by the time the guard returned. When he bent down to get the tray of food, Y/n got a good look of his face. She noted the scars and white war paint- her heart started racing. After all this time away, she was back as a prisoner?

“What, Commander?” The guard hissed.

“Why am I here?” She asked for the thousandth time.

The guard scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll bite. But if I tell you something, you have to tell me something.”

Y/n tossed the thought around for a moment before nodding. “Fine.”

“The Queen wants to take you down. Thinks letting you win the war was a mistake.”

Y/n chuckled. “Let us win? We fought fair and square.”

The guard visibly bit his tongue. He thought about what to say next. He cleared his throat. “I told you something. Now you tell me something.”


“What are you doing with SkaiKru?”

Y/n froze. How did they know about that? Why were they interested in that?

“They needed my help? Why does it matter?”

The guard smiled and ran his tongue over his teeth. He deadpanned afterwards. “I’m the one asking questions. Not you.” He stood up and grabbed his knife he used earlier off the wall. He crouched directly in front of Y/n’s face. He was so close that she could smell the wine on his lips. “Let’s play a game,” pause “every question you answer to my liking, I won’t hurt you. Piss me off or don’t answer, I’ll cut up your pretty face.”

“If I bowed to everyone who threatened me, I’d never stand back up. You want me dead? Get in line.” She spit at his feet. She licked her lips and smiled. The movement caused the guard to flick the blade quickly across Y/n’s face. A small cut below her cheekbone started to bleed.

“A sense of humor is a very bad thing to have in a place like this.”

The small group that was combined with the Sky People guards had made it back to the FreeKru camp. They picked up the rest of the men and began to head north toward Azgeda. Bjorn led the way, with Bellamy and Clarke at his heels. There was a weird excitement in the air, but it was mixed with nervousness.

There was light chatter among the groups. Bellamy was trying to keep quiet and to himself, but Clarke had too many question. “So…” She started, pushing Bellamy’s arm lightly with her elbow, “what’s so special about Y/n?”

He chuckled, “What do you mean?” His cheeks reddened slightly.

Clarke smiled a toothy grin, “Octavia told me-”

Bellamy stared up at the sky and let his hands slap against his sides. He groaned, “Oh of course she did!”

They laughed for a moment, but Clarke waited until they were silent again to keep talking. “So you like her?”

“I barely know her! Yeah, she’s pretty and smart and strong as hell, but I’ve had like three good conversations with her. That’s not enough time to make a good connection with someone.” He shook his head and stared at the ground.

“Damn, Blake. I asked you if you liked her, not if you were gonna marry her.” Clarke laughed loudly, which made Bellamy genuinely smile. They didn’t speak the rest of the walk, they didn’t need to. Clarke was one of his best friends, so the silence was comfortable.

Bellamy did admit that it felt odd that Y/n and he were so close together already, but maybe because he wasn’t very good with people, he never realized that happened often. After all, Clarke and Finn were ‘in love’ after a few days. ‘Not that what I’m feeling is love,’ he thought to himself.

They approached Azgeda- the Sky People expected to see more ice, but it looked just like every other part of the woods. There was no huge indicator that they had crossed Ice Nation territory, but Bjorn seemed pretty confident.

As if the Gods were playing a wicked game of hide-and-seek with Y/n and the army, a loud scream ripped through the air. Bjorn tensed up, which meant that the scream belonged to Y/n. They were in the right place, but it was just a matter of finding her hiding spot. The army marched into the camp, each step laced with determination. If they were on the other side, Bellamy thought, he’d be absolutely terrified.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Bjorn whispered, sadistically and angrily. When no one responded, he shrieked louder, the veins in his neck bulging as he did so, “Ready or not, here we come!”  

part 8

Tags:  @famchester @bunnyboo10154 @voidjillybean @clarkkeee @warning-fangirlmode-activated @s-wood @starshininginthedark @insporater @one-of-those-guys@alphaallie @blue-berry-barry-allen @kiralivelove @coffeebooksandfandom @kararanae23 @alejandra8medina

Happy Birthday, Jo <3 <3 <3

“My lady.”

“My lord.”

“I need a cloak.”

“A cloak, my lord? Are you asking for the return of the one you oh-so-gallantly draped over my naked, shivering body, the day my men presented me to you in chains?”

“No! You may keep that one, if you wish, or -”

“Keep it, as a constant reminder of your kindness and your gallantry?”

“Or throw it away. Or burn it, if you wish. It is yours now, to do to your liking. I need a cloak in Durrand … in Baratheon colors. To serve as the bride’s cloak at our wedding.”

“Am I not to be cloaked with Targaryen colors, on that auspicious day?”

“You are not marrying a Targaryen, my lady. The Durrandon’s sigil and colors will be the Baratheon’s sigil and colors, as I have told you. There is still a war raging in the realm, and I must be by my king’s side to fight it. There is no time to have a new bride’s cloak made. Hence -”

“Hence you wish to appropriate a Durrandon bride’s cloak instead.”

“I wish to borrow one.”

“Well, this one was the Durrandon bride’s cloak once draped over the shoulders of my lady mother, and my lady grandmother before that. My lord father had hoped that a son of his would, in time, draped his own bride with this same cloak, but alas, the gods saw fit to take all my brothers in their cradles. If my brothers had lived, perhaps you would not be able to make so free with a Durrandon cloak now. Or Durrandon lands.”

“We had the stronger force. Even a son of Argilac Durrandon would have been defeated. I’m certain your courage matched the courage that any brother of yours would have shown, my lady.”

“Oh, it was not my courage that was ever in question, my lord. I had courage enough to match any man. It was the courage of men that was lacking; craven, cowardly men who believed a woman could never hold a castle and a kingdom the way a man could, and thus decided to betray their rightful queen. You should pray to the gods that your sons live to adulthood, my lord, or the reign of House Baratheon in the stormlands may not be as long-lived as you hope.”

Before the Flowers Wilt: Prologue

Love is a beautiful sentiment. Sought by many to attain the genuine nature of love, but only a few are ever truly able to understand and encounter the meaning of its complexity. Appearing in diverse forms, the most deadly is unrequited love. So toxic and passionate is this kind of love, a dreadful disease was born. The disorder induces the infected subject to regurgitate and convulse flower petals.

Only two remedies for the disease exist. The first cure requires the subject’s unrequited love is fulfilled, no longer shackled by the chains of one-sided love. The second remedy is to extricate the infection by a medical procedure, however; a side effect is existing romantic emotions are extracted from the vassal’s body as well. 

In severe cases, the discomfort from regurgitating flowers is excruciating that the victim will result in vomiting blood along with the flowers and petals. The severest predicament is the patient suffocates on the flowers. To restore the patient without any side effects is for their unrequited affections to be returned by the intended target.

Love is a dangerous game, beware of the Hanahaki disease.

anonymous asked:

What would it take for Jesse to go from "This guy is cute and is a nice piece of eye candy, I wonder how he is in bed" to "Holy sh!t, I want to spend the rest of my life with this man, ride or die!"?

In all honesty? Jesse loves all kinds of boys. Soft boys, strong boys, anything in between.
But let’s be real: the day you kick his ass/save his ass is the day he falls completely.
It’s training. The two of you stand, half beaten into the ground already. Sweat stings a cut above your eyebrow and he’s rolling his shoulder from a nasty bruise you landed there. He gives you a bloody lipped grin as you two circle one another as wolves.
“Nothing personal, right darlin’?”
“Of course.” You break the chain by stepping forward, so lightly. McCree doesn’t know how to react, putting his arms up to block any attack. You stand on your toes and give him a light cheek kiss.
You barely see the stunned expression on his face before you deck him.
It’s not that bad, you’re wearing boxing gloves. But he’s still on the ground, this tall badass cowboy reduced to mush after that single punch. Sweat drips off your body as you smirk, straddling his chest.
He still looks kind of dazed, but when his eyes lock onto yours, he grins.
“Damn. Is this a good time to propose?
Conversely, he’s downed by someone else.
“Y/N, get behind me…” he’s gritting his teeth, holding his side as he shot the Talon agent in reciprocation. The guy screeches and falls down.
Panting heavily, you pull him to the side, in an alley. Morrison said there would be two agents at most… this was at least a dozen! You cursed the guy tenfold for asking you and McCree to do this job, and cursed yourself for letting Jesse get hurt. Hands quickly pull his shirt to the side and get to work on the bullet lodged just about a centimeter to the side. Not lethal, thank god, but it couldn’t feel good. Taking a deep breath, you managed to pluck the metal piece out and dump a bit of anti-infection cream on it before dabbing a regeneration cream on the skin to increase the clotting rate. A bandage around the outside. Thank god for Angela and 207X medicine
“You stay here. I’m going to go save our butts.” You kiss his forehead and dash back out into the field, gun raised.
As McCree realizes you’re out of range for his protests, and the screams of hurt are enemies, he feels a tingle of something else inside him: genuine love.

-Mod Zen

amateurpsychologist  asked:

Maesters can do so many jobs, teacher, adviser, healer ect. Are there different titles to show what the Maesters main focus is, or reflect the job that they're currently doing?

No, sorry, a maester is a maester. The only differentiation in titles is in the administration of the Citadel – the archmaesters who are the master of their field of study, the Conclave (made of archmaesters and senior maesters) that is the governing body of the order and elects the Grand Maester, the Grand Maester who is the Citadel’s representative to the king, and the Seneschal who does the thankless job of managing the Citadel.

Maesters’ specialties can be identified by their links, mind you. A maester’s chain is made of links of many different kinds of metals, showing the various fields of study they completed at the Citadel. But since it’s possible to get more than one link in a field of study, one could expect that a maester with 3 silver links would be a noted expert healer. One with multiple copper links would likely specialize in history. One with a lot of gold links would either be a mathematician or really really good at accounting. Archmaester Marwyn, whose mask, rod, and ring are made of Valyrian steel, is famous for his study of “the higher mysteries”, magic.

But there’s nothing like… idk, a castle maester, doing a specific job, turning their chain to bring the link of that field to the front, or something. That would be wasting time. :) Best to just get on with it – he knows his link is on his chain, his lord trusts him to be able to do such work because he’s a maester, and so on. (I imagine, to graduate from acolyte to maester, in addition to having enough links, you have to have links in all the standard fields needed to work in a castle – healing, accounting, and ravenry, at the very least.) But the chain itself serves as identification that a maester is a maester and thus knows what he’s doing in all of his jobs; he needs no other title but “maester”.

My most recent finished custom Funko, also a Christmas gift: Josephine Montilyet from Dragon Age: Inquisition. This was…kind of a complicated one (but @erlkonigstochter’s astonished, delighted gasp when she opened it made the whole project worthwhile). The head and body are both Miss Peregrine, but the arms are from a leftover Edith Cushing body, which is also where I got the candle for her fantasy clipboard thing (the fantasy clipboard thing itself is half a leftover book from another figure). Her sashes are cloth and ribbon, with a little piece of chain for the necklace. I also used chalk pastels to darken the skin on her face, which…is why she sort of looks dirty instead, whoops. I was trying to find a method that wouldn’t require me to repaint her eyebrows and eyelashes, but it only kind of worked.

See my other custom figures at or check out my shop at