reel world

fuck this, man
I grumble in the downside of my heart
when I met You and
I felt inferior to Your aura and Your circle of
educated friends
and then You smiled
the world reeled, my heart beat again
for the first time in years
and You brought magic out of me
You woke the dragon

fuck this, man
my old self thought
when I first met You
because you were six foot three
and looked like a bully with a jet black mohawk
and then you laughed with that uproarious
passion immediately believing in me
and You began to worship me

fuck this, man
I said out loud when I was alone and
my house echoed empty
no You, no You
and something had died
so I tried my damnedest to get
as far into the bottom of the bottle
as I realistically could before
I turned into a Halloween scarecrow
in July

—  all the world’s a stage (via @sassoonery)
Past Lives

Originally posted by pleasegiveusreyloinepisodeviii

Request: @waiefu : “ok so reader is going to college away from home and they need a room mate so theyre looking at possible people they see kylo but misread as kylie reader sees they have a lot in common and assuming its a girl picks them anyway they show up at the dorm and see a dude”

Summary: Soulmate AU: Kylo Ren, being the man that he is, loses a lot of things in his life. One of those things being his only shot at ever having love. As centuries pass however, in another galaxy on a planet known as Earth, an unexpected turn of events brings him another possible chance. Though he never could have predicted it would have come around in the way it does.

A/N: Ok so I combined a request with an AU I had brewing in my mind for a long time (even before I started this blog hah), and hopefully you all enjoy it! And in case anyone was wondering, yes “Past Lives” by Borns is the song rec for this cause well, ya know. Feedback is welcome, and of course all credit for the triplet AU goes to @crylorenlo

Warnings: Language


Laying motionless in the snow, with flakes daintily dropping onto his pale flesh, Kylo stared up at the night sky. Blood matted his raven locks and smeared across his full lips, starkly contrasting his appearance. His body was spent, his mind reeling as the world around him seemed to fall into an unnatural silence. No matter how much his ears strained, there was nothing to be heard, nothing to be seen.

Left to his thoughts alone, Kylo slowly felt them consume him. Though there was nothing to be heard physically, Kylo’s psyche seemed to take on its own consuming presence, forcing him to acknowledge it.

So, this is what you received.

Kylo sighed faintly, the breath feeling heavy in his lungs.

A slow, painful and a depressingly lonely demise. Was it worth it?

Despite his inability to move or react, his eyes began to pool with tears. It was your voice. A voice that had disappeared into the furthest corner of his mind for years. Years he had lost to his poor decisions, including the one of the last night he ever laid eyes on you. 

Was taking the countless lives worth it? Destroying what the force created…was it worth it?

His eyes winced shut as his soiled body began to tremble. Slowly the tears started to slip down his cheeks, accompanying the flakes of snow.

“I’m sorry.”

He practically whispered, sounding much like a passing breeze. Lip quivering he choked out the words as he spoke again with his broken tone.

“I’m sorry…I-…it wasn’t worth it.”

His trembling grew fiercer as his body grew even weaker, seeming to ignore the creeping frigid temperature.

“I’m sorry…so sorry.”

Aside from his dying whimpers, the atmosphere was eeriely silent. As if he had suddenly gone deaf to the world around him, there was nothing. You weren’t there, his family was long gone and there was not a soul he had to lean on. In his demise, he met his fate. To be entirely alone in the end, no one to have beside him aside from the snowy terrain beneath him. Slowly as his body grew weaker, almost incapable of continuing to sob the way he had been, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Drooping lower and lower over his blood shot, glimmering eyes, the world around him slowly started to fade.


Centuries later in a far away galaxy…

Staring at the screen before him, Kylo looked over the Craigslist ad he was about to post, assuring everything was correct. Typos would not be accepted and he had to assure not a single detail was missing. Though anyone else would have thought he was doing it as a service to his soon to be roommate, he truly was doing it for himself, unwilling to live with certain types of individuals. He knew what personalities melded well with his, and he would do everything to assure he got just that.

Narrowing his eyes to the screen he read over the bullet points he had written once again. Walking up behind him, Ben appeared. Rolling his eyes Ben shook his head faintly as he watched Kylo hunched over the computer desk.

“Why are you so dramatic?”

“Why are you so obnoxious?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Idk if you already know this but here's some unnecessary information for the prompt with judas: there's actually a theory that judas only betrayed jesus because he believed in jesus the most and thought that it would make the whole process faster, thought that jesus would then perform a huge miracle that'll make everything better. That jesus just needed a little push, kind of like: the worse the situation the greater the outcome. Anyway i love heartbroken judas who just trusted a little too much

my favorite judas theory is the one where his betrayal is an unavoidable fate, and jesus approaches him ahead of time to the effect of ‘this needs to happen and i trust you to do it,’ and judas is essentially like 'i love you with every atom in my body so of course i’ll help you achieve this resurrection,’ because it allows him the agency we don’t often give him, even though it doesn’t change the tragedy of it all. but oh man, that theory is fascinating! it makes his hurt feel so palpable. i appreciate the idea of a judas who trusts so much that it sends the whole world reeling

21.

(A/N: This installment contains potentially triggering content.)

In the cramped cabin of the biplane, Scully shuts her eyes and seizes Mulder’s fingers, weak in the chokehold of fear. Her heart palpitates in her throat, images of freefall and fire streaking through her mind; rogue winds, engine failure, burned corpses in the dirt. 

Up in the wide and treacherous sky, he rubs his thumb along the back of her hand, steady and solid as old oak. 

Kroner, Kansas. A fraudulent meteorokinetic with a spray tan and a wooden leg. A mini-twister hurls a heifer through the motel roof, and then Mulder’s in her bed, all hands, all tongue, his late-night scruff brutalizing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

Tonight. It’s going to be tonight. She should have asked him in Nevada… 

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As Still As Sound: Prologue

Author’s Note: i really didn’t think i’d start another series so soon, really i didn’t. but this came to me one night, and i feel like i’m going to scream if i don’t write it. this story is basically a love note from me to a lot of different things; some of it is personal, some of it is fictional, a lot of it is me doing something i never do and writing real, true love story. i hope you enjoy this prologue!

Summary: Two years after soulmate bonds are formed in our universe, and still the world is reeling from the connections. Everyone seems to be affected, except you. You seem to think you’ve been left out and forgotten, though you don’t really want a soulmate at all. All you really want is to be alone with your music…

O/C’s Spotify song this chapter: Blow - Ghinzu (music for each chapter will be the song the reader/oc/you is listening to)

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female)

Genre: Soulmate!AU; fluff; angst; drama; sci-fi; eventual smut

Rating (this chapter): PG

Warnings (this chapter): references to threats of self-harm

Word Count: 5,024

METRO UK      APRIL 8, 2013

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW! FIRST UK SOULMATE PAIR DISCOVERED: TWO YEARS ON 

Anita and Wesley Goulding made history on this day in 2011 as the first couple in the UK to find their soulmate after the Era Shift. They’ve sat down with us today to discuss how they met, the struggles they endured in the early days of finding one another, and why they think the new soulmate process is a double edged sword.

Q: Congratulations on two years!

Anita: Thank you! It really doesn’t feel like it. I wake up every morning and see him, and I somehow fall more in love with him.

Wesley: I honestly don’t know what I was doing in my life before I met her. It’s been the most magical two years.

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feverfixation  asked:

Maybe hunk taking care of really sick Keith? If you'd rather do shiro I'm all for that too but Keith and hunk is a favorite friend combo for me (love your stuff as always!!!)

There’s a weight crushing his chest, hot and thick and cloying like smog. He struggles to breathe past it, oxygen clogging in his lungs with every choked inhale.

His throbbing head lolls against the chilly floor, too woozy to try and lift it up. A tingling shiver starts at the base of his spine and travels up in one convulsive, rolling shudder. His stomach squirms, protesting the jarring movement as he wraps his arms a little tighter around himself, curling his limbs into a ball. His body feels like it’s been turned into a gigantic block of solid ice.

He needs to get up. Needs to get dressed and go outside. They’ll wonder where he is, soon. Probably come looking for him. Won’t they? Will they care?

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying on the bathroom floor, doesn’t even remember stumbling out of bed. An hour, maybe? At any rate, he’s wallowed long enough. If he can’t accomplish the simple task of getting his body under control how the hell is he supposed to be the leader of jack-shit?

There’s that word again. It’s been tumbling around the recesses of his mind for weeks now. Always present, taunting him with its inevitability. He needs Shiro. Needs to ask him what to do.

But of course that’s impossible, isn’t it?

Three goddamn weeks and he’s still struggling to wrap his mind around their new reality. This nightmare he can’t seem to wake from.

He slams his fist against the tile, frustrated tears trickling down his cheeks as he hauls his uncooperative limbs into a sitting position. He sways as the floor tilts beneath him, but he refuses to fall. He blinks away the tears and inhales a deep, shuddering breath. Good. Making progress.

Then his lungs sputter, choking on the oxygen and he clutches at his throat, coughing and wheezing and hacking up a mouthful of something that makes him gag. He groans aloud, swiping the back of his hand beneath his leaking nose. He doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Gritting his teeth, he reaches up to grip the edge of the metal sink; forcing his legs underneath him takes far more effort than it ought to. It’s slow going but eventually he’s hovering over the basin, weak but finally upright.

His fingers tremble as he cups a handful of water; the droplets turn lukewarm the moment they touch his skin. His reflection wavers in the small mirror, gray and distorted; fleeting because he ducks his head and shuts his eyes tight so he doesn’t have to look.

The anger resurfaces; coiling low in the pit of his stomach and working its way up until his vision flickers blood-red. It’s familiar; comforting in a twisted way. He needs the rage. Needs it to push himself forward like he needs the air in his lungs. He braces his weight against the wall, panting through another surge of dizziness.

He’s thirsty. He wants to go back to the faucet for a drink but the claustrophobia is waiting for him. The kitchen, then. No mirrors in there.

He’s standing in the middle of the mess-hall, uncertain of how he made it downstairs. He can feel a bruise forming just below his kneecap but can’t remember when he fell. He doesn’t bother trying to find a cup. Instead, he staggers over to the sink, fumbling blindly with the handle and dipping his head to gulp down mouthfuls of the icy water. The liquid splashes all over his face, down his chest and onto the floor. He doesn’t care, just keeps lapping at the stream until he can’t hold anymore.

“Keith?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, wincing as a light switches on. He spins around and straightens, ignoring the nauseating shimmer of the walls surrounding him, making it difficult to keep his balance. He’d been freezing only moments ago; now his clothes feel damp and clammy with sweat.

“What are you doing up so early?” Hunk is still in his pajama pants and robe; hair disheveled and sticking up in all the wrong directions. He gives Keith an odd look, reaching up to rub his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Keith rasps, feeling an uncomfortable tickle crawl up the back of his throat. He coughs in his mouth a few times, as quietly as possible.

“You too, huh?” Hunk offers a sympathetic smile and starts digging through a cabinet, producing a tin can. “I was gonna make some tea.”

It’s an obvious invitation but Keith is barely paying attention. It’s a little difficult to hear through the high-pitched buzzing in his ears and the gurgling in his stomach. The water isn’t settling; in hindsight, maybe he should have gulped a little slower.  

“Why don’t you sit down,” Hunk suggests, eyes narrowing with obvious concern. He’s frowning, now. 

“We’re scheduled for training in an hour,” Keith murmurs, throat bobbing with a few convulsive swallows. “I don’…don’t have time for tea.” For some reason that strikes him as funny and he lets out a snort of laughter.

Keith doesn’t think he can even make it to the chair. The room’s spinning too fast to move away from the sink, anyway. He feels himself tilting forward, watches as the floor rushes up to meet him and then a pair of strong arms hauling him back up just before he smashes his face open.

“Keith,” Hunk says right next to his ear; his voice is low and gentle. “Come sit down.”

And he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

Hunk helps him over to one of the chairs and Keith immediately slumps over the table, pillowing his head in his arms.

“I don’t think training’s on the agenda for you this morning. You look like hell.”

“Jus’ a cold,” Keith slurs, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’ll be fine.” He means it, too. He has every intention of powering through what promises to be a grueling morning. 

Hunk crouches down beside his chair. Keith watches with vague curiosity as Hunk rests one hand on his back and the other brushes underneath Keith’s bangs. Hunk’s large hand feels cool against his forehead. Even so, Keith feels the need to shrug Hunk off before he gets too comfortable up there.

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s definitely more than a cold,” Hunk obligingly pulls his hand away from his forehead but lets the other hover over Keith’s back. Keith coughs into his crossed arms and feels Hunk’s hand stroke up and down a few times. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

“So this is why you didn’t show up at dinner, huh? You’ve been feeling lousy since last night?”

“I was tired,” Keith insists. It’s harder to focus.

“You’re sick. I mean, you’re practically cooking in your own skin, dude,” Hunk rises from his crouch and crosses his arms.

“Jus’ need to sleep it off,” Keith insists, pushing up from the table. His stomach lurches with the unexpected movement and he muffles a wet hiccup into his fist. “You can’t tell the others.”

“Keith,” Hunk sits down beside him. He runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs. When he glances back, his eyes are unnervingly intense; full of a profound sadness that Keith recognizes as buried grief. “It’s okay. No one’s going to think any less of you because you need to take a day off. You don’t have to prove anything to us. You know that, right?”

The gentle sincerity, the goddamn earnestness makes Keith want to scream. He raises his head, swallows hard and glares back, fists vibrating against the table.

“I have everything to prove,” he growls, gripping the edges of the metal, trying to hold on to his reeling world.

Hunk shakes his head, resting his chin in his hands. He’s quiet for a long moment.

“You know who you sound like,” he says quietly, a fond smile forming at the corners of his lips. 

“Don’t,” Keith spits, shaking with fury. But the damage has been done. “Don’t talk about him like he’s…like -” 

Keith slaps a hand over his mouth, shoving away from the table and tripping over his own feet in his haste to make it to the sink. His shoulders roll with a deep gag and all at once the water comes gushing back up, splattering violently into the metallic basin. He retches a few more times but there isn’t anything left to throw up. He must’ve emptied out his stomach when he first woke up. He doesn’t remember doing that, either.

Keith coughs and spits, resenting the tears that manage to slip free. Suddenly, he realizes he’s no longer holding his own weight. Hunk has one arm wrapped around his waist, the other supports Keith’s back as his body shudders through the aftershock and he struggles to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk whispers when Keith’s calmed down a bit. He sounds devastated. “I didn’t mean for -“

“Don’t. Please,” Keith pants, slumping against the broad chest. “It’s not your fault. ‘M just…really fucked up right now. Everything’s so f-fucked up.”

He doesn’t mean for his words to get tangled in a choked sob but Hunk immediately pulls him close, hugging him from behind and holding him steady. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

After a few minutes, Keith wipes viciously at his bleary eyes and hangs his head. Hunk peers down, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles against Keith’s shoulder, silently asking if he’s all right; if he’s ready.

“Don’t tell Lance,” Keith hiccups, finally glancing up. “I think I’d have to abandon ship.”

Hunk smiles softly, readjusting his grip around Keith’s waist and easing the sick boy’s arm over his own shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re definitely getting funnier.”

“Not kidding,” Keith slurs, feeling himself being lifted up as if he weighs nothing at all. That’s strange because his head feels so heavy he’s afraid it might just roll right off his shoulders. He thinks maybe he passed out since one minute they’re in the kitchen and the next Hunk’s easing him down into bed, tucking his aching body into the warm blankets.

“You don’t need to prove anything right now, Keith,” Hunk’s voice is surprisingly soothing, fingers brushing lightly through the damp strands of Keith’s hair. “Just sleep. We can handle things for a while.”

Once again, Keith doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

I need a day to recover

After that last chapter. @captainpoopweinersoldier I just want that Ivar. I want to be Lisbet. Keep Your Silence Ivar is the ultimate Ivar. I love him more than Canon Ivar. Blah blah blah words words words. I just can’t get over it. You’re an excellent storyteller, the way that you set the scene, everything is so vivid and I feel like I’m watching a movie. Even though it’s written from Lisbet’s pov, you are able to really understand Ivar, like you know what he is thinking and feel as strong a connection to that character just from the way that he makes Lisbet feel. I just went back and read it again and I’m just blown away. It is just too good. I am not so good at reviews but, long story short, I loved it and I am jealous af of your abilities. 😝😘 Don’t doubt yourself.

Originally posted by alexhoghsource