rise against the sun

Aquarius Debunked: Myth #2

People keep calling Aquarians “humanitarian.”

It’s true, in a way. 

Aquarians do charity work. They’ll feed the poor, help build shelters, and give a homeless person a dollar.

But they’ll make sure someone’s taking pictures, put it on their resume, casually mention how they helped make the world a better place, in every single conversation with everyone they meet. 

If you ask what they’d do if they won the lottery, they’ll say, “I’ll use the money to make the world a better place” (build a hospital, donate to PETA, whatever). They’ll say it while they watch you carry an armload groceries into your house, without offering to help. 

There’s no glory in helping with the little things. You can’t put small acts of genuine kindness on a resume. Where are the cameras? Pfft.

They’ll offer to travel the world with you- because they need someone to take pictures of them to put on Instagram. They need to appear popular and well-traveled, but they have no genuine interest in taking in the sights, making connections, or having fun. 

It’s always about appearances.

An Aquarius would rather project an image of being happy and fulfilled via their facebook profile, than experience actual happiness and fulfilment. They’d rather appear to be humanitarian than actually help people from the heart. They’d rather appear popular than have any real friends. They’d rather appear to have a perfect relationship than find true love. 

It takes less time and effort to construct a pretty lie than to build something beautiful and true. So, I get it. (I don’t respect it.) But I get it.

We are currently in the age of Aquarius. One glance around shows that everyone displays the behavior described here to some extent. People are allies because it’s the cool thing to do, not because they care. People stay in friend groups just to fit in and appear well-adjusted, not because they’re actually friends. Etc.

Those with prominent Aquarius in their birth chart (esp. rising) just do this more than the rest of us.

The evolved Aquarius is a true rebel and revolutionary. The evolved Aquarius does things for only one reason: because they want to. Not to help others, and not to help themselves, but from pure, genuine, internal motivation. This form of Aquarius is exceptionally rare. You’re more likely to come across the sheep than the lone wolf manifestation of this sign.

So… For the love of god, stop calling Aquarians ‘humanitarian’ when they honestly couldn’t give a fuck, unless it makes them look good.

[Myth #1]

This is how I’ll love you: like the night sky holding on to her brightest stars so they won’t fall, like a lighthouse safely guiding her sailors home, like a flower rising toward her sun, like the wave gently lapping against her shore, like a flame igniting, burning herself over and over again for the one she loves.

This is how you’ll love me: from a distance, close enough to touch, but never close enough to let yourself get hurt. Never close enough to let me in. Walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around your feelings like there was a way for you to avoid catching them.

This is how we’ll end: I ask you to meet me halfway, but you never show up. I ask you to tell me what you want but you never know yourself. I ask you to let me go because I cannot stay for someone who does not know for sure if he wants me to. So we end how we began. But, tell me, if there was no beginning, how can there ever be an end? If all we did was go in circles, how can we stop?

—  how we loved / n.j.
The Houses as Flowers

Slytherin: Sharp thorns and thick stems. A gentle, sweet scent. Soft delicate petals that open to greet the sun. Leaves hued dark green, petals painted in softer colors. Small buds waiting to bloom. Roses.

Ravenclaw: Tall and elegant. Unique and easy to identify. Colored with rich blues and purples. Beautiful against the rising sun. Grown in small clusters with the occasional lone flower. Sheer enough skin through a petal. Irises.

Hufflepuff: Large fields with mile upon mile of color. Petals dyed with and ombre of red, yellow, and orange. Surrounded by the lazy buzz of bumblebees. Hundreds of blossoms forming a landlocked sunset. Tulips

Gryffindor: Wide, open petals. Speckled with small dots or flushed with a second color. Shaped like stars. Wild, plentiful leaves. Rich color in the middle of the petal, fading to white around the edges. Lilies

Happy Beginning

Damn this show and how it’s invaded my feelings.  Crying over my cereal this morning.  Sigh.

A morning drabble cause when it hurts, I write.  A little bit of fluffy sexy times for our Captain Swan.

Originally posted by captainswansource

He wakes to the dip of the bed beneath him, sunshine bright against his closed eyelids.  Giving a groan, he rolls and opens his eyes to find an angel sitting beside him.  She smiles, reaching out to lace her fingers with his and he can’t help but lift her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss above the set of rings she now wears.

Wife…she’s his wife and the memory of her in white, walking toward him with a smile on her lips has him grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” she asks, blushing as he presses his smile to the beat of her pulse, trailing his nose after it before dropping their hands back to the bed.

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50 Things I’m Convinced Harry Styles Does (in bed): A Fluffy List

Missed the first list? → Find it here

1. Says, “Pretend we’re koalas and I’m your baby and I have to hold on to you,” and wraps his legs around your waist and his arms around your torso, not allowing you to move.

2. On the rare occasion that he’s the big spoon, he cups your breasts while he falls asleep, subconsciously squeezing them every so often as he drifts off.

3. Whines, “No, no, no, no,” into your hair when the alarm goes off.

4. Watches you get ready while he rests his head against the mattress, a soft smile on his face when you pat his cheek as you walk by.

5. Stretches all four of his lengthy limbs across the bed while you’re taking your makeup off in the bathroom. When you’re done, you shake your head and lay on top of him until he’s forced to move.

6. Whispers, “I love you so much,” in the middle of the night when the two of you switch positions.

7. Says, “Sorry, not comfy,” when he’s unable to find a comfortable position and has rolled over at least twenty times in the past five minutes.

8. Tells you stories about growing up when neither of you can sleep.

9. Rubs his hands up and down your sides while you cuddle face-to-face, stopping his fingers at the underside of your bum and wiggling his eyebrows to make you laugh.

10. Asks you to run your fingers through his hair to calm him down when he’s too restless to settle into sleep.

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the kisses au

because there are so many types of kisses! have some affectionate widowtracer because i refuse to believe their relationship is purely sex and angst

  • lena oxton is a very affectionate person
  • she is all smiles and hugs and friendly hip-checks and cuddles and sharing space and, needless to say, widowmaker is not.
  • so when they start this… thing
  • widow is not prepared for what comes next
  • she wakes in the morning covered in ten blankets and a snoozing lena oxton, surrounded by a mess of pillows and teddy bears and textbooks on theoretical physics, and it is warm and the sunlight was made for basking in, and she jolts a little in surprise
  • her talon bunker is cold and dark and decorated with one purple gouge across the blank white walls and the cot is stiff and poky and she has nothing but nightmares
  • lena stirs at her movement, grumbles sleepily. widow freezes, unsure of the protocol. does she… touch her? move? does she stay there? oh god what should she do?
  • she settles for tentatively touching lena’s hair. it’s soft, fluffy, perpetually messy, and she pats her head with cold hands.
  • ‘lo,’ lena murmurs, throat creaking a little, and widow blinks, snatching her hand back.
  • ‘good morning,’ she says, a touch stiffly. lena doesn’t seem to notice, tipping her head slightly and shifting closer, burrowing her head into widow’s neck and pressing a kiss to her jaw. the whole motion is easy and careless and widow can’t help but smile.
  • lena whispers something groggily against her throat, and she frowns in confusion.
  • ‘quoi?’
  • lena lifts her head for a moment. ‘said you look cute.’
  • ‘cute?’
  • ‘ya know, mornings. hair down. ‘s cute.’
  • ‘so do you.’
  • ‘mm. thanks.’ 
  • she’s waking up slowly, sitting up, bending over amelie to blindly kiss her face, opening her eyes, the soft brown gentle in the rising sun, her nose bumping clumsily against amelie’s icy cheek.
  • ‘there’s a diner here somewhere,’ she mumbles between kisses, aiming for amelie’s nose and missing spectacularly. ‘you into coffee?’
  • ‘café au lait,’ is amelie’s response, and lena snorts, snuggling into her shoulder.
  • ‘you and your prissy french coffee.’
  • amelie sticks her tongue out at her and lena pouts exaggeratedly, spread-eagling herself over widow and clinging.
  • ‘get off,’ amelie says, without meaning it. lena just smiles at her knowingly, and clings tighter, dotting kisses over amelie’s collarbones and humming some pop song.
  • ‘i want food,’ amelie says abruptly and decisively, and clambers off the bed with lena still attached to her. ‘shoes on. am i carrying you there?’
  • ‘yeah,’ lena mumbles, and then blinks. ‘wait, are we going naked?’
  • ‘no,’ amelie says, rolling her eyes fondly, ‘put your clothes on.’
  • lena sings as she straps the accelerator to her chest and slings a leather jacket around her shoulders, dances up behind widow and spins her around and presses the spiderbites into her ear and widow snorts when she makes a pun, eyebrows waggling
  • they walk to the nearest cafe and lena buys four pastries and feeds amelie pieces of an apple turnover as she talks about a recent prototype of the plane that she and winston are developing and widow hums and listens and feels the soft brush of lena’s fingers against her lips and the way they skim over her jaw and down her arm to her hands, and then lena gets momentarily distracted in favour of kissing each of amelie’s fingertips
  • and amelie tells her about sombra’s embarrassing moments, hands dancing in the air (she’s wonderfully expressive when she wants to be), smiles a little when lena laughs so hard she almost snorts coffee out her nose
  • they’re the best mornings amelie’s had in a while.
  • late nights are good, too
  • they curl up on the couch, and amelie wears lena’s fuzzy koala socks, and they watch old movies and lena squishes in next to her so close that amelie can smell the faint traces of the lemon soap she uses (and amelie steals on a regular basis) and she wraps her arms loosely around lena’s midsection and lena hums and traces her tattoos and pecks kisses on her wrists
  • and sometimes, every so often, lena comes home to amelie sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and hard eyes and lena talks her down with quiet words and soft desperate ‘i am here’ kisses and amelie cries and tangles her hands in lena’s hair and they sit together on lena’s kitchen floor and amelie mumbles about needles and gerard and monsters
  • at nights, they lie together, lena’s arms tight around amelie’s shoulders, quiet words of affection. lena learns a bit of frankly horrid french and takes a certain amount of delight in sneaking up behind amelie and whispering, ‘je t’aime’ into her ear
  • and her accent’s bad and the tones are wrong and she doesn’t quite say it like people in france
  • but it seems much more right than anything amelie’s ever heard

we move together on my front porch in morning.
the sun comes as we do: quiet, with one hand
over its mouth. we rattle together in a bed of honey. 
what is still left in me mingles with what is still
left of you, a monument to what comes as much
as what has gone. the still bodied hum
tremors us awake, rakes its sore and un-stretched
grin against the grates that line the innards
of our chests. it has gone unused for so long, it
forgot how to use itself. we clatter and mellow
from waking, a sun rising against our bodies. your
sun. We constrict with the coming we thought
was not ours to go to. 

“Morning in February.” by Emma Bleker

title: i wanna wake up to you
pairing: bokuaka
rating: g
summary: bokuto and akaashi and the moments where they make a home in each other.

for bokuaka day, something light and fluffy for my fave volleyowls~ >ao3<

“Ah, it’s already this late,” Akaashi says, glancing out the dark window. He puts his pencil down, blinking across the table at Koutarou. “I should be getting home.”

Koutarou fumbles for his phone. “Uh, I think the last trains just left though…”

Akaashi frowns. “Oh.”

“You can just stay over! My parents won’t mind!” Koutarou fiddles with his little owl-shaped stress ball as Akaashi considers. It’s not the first time Akaashi stayed over, but Koutarou can’t help feeling nervous every time. He likes being able to spend more time with his friend, and he knows Akaashi feels the same, but there’s still a part of Koutarou that shakes and quivers in the pauses that make up Akaashi’s calm nature.

“Let me just let my parents know.”

“Okay! I’ll go get the futon set up!”

Koutarou bounds out of his room down to the hall closet. There’s an excited smile pulling at his lips and something swelling in his chest. They can watch some anime, or maybe more volleyball footage, or maybe play a game! Though they do have school tomorrow, so maybe Akaashi will try to make them go to sleep early. But that’s okay, because Koutarou knows that Akaashi likes talking to him, too.

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w0wr00d  asked:

Can we suggest prompts from that list u reblogged? Bc if so, can you try 4 pls?

So, this somehow turned into a 11k monstrosity. Hope you enjoy it! And as always, also on ao3! (Thinking about turning this into a series, what do y’all think?)

One would think that after living his entire life ― almost twenty nine years now ― as a werewolf Derek would be used to the exhaustion and disorientation that came with the morning after a full moon. One would think that he would be used to the insufferable cottonmouth often accompanied by the humiliating realization that he had made some poor little woodland creature his meal, finding clumps of fur and bits of flesh around his mouth.

One would also think that he would be used to waking up completely naked, or at the very least nearly so, in the most random of places, ranging from the roof of his family’s home in the preserve to an unfamiliar parking lot across town. One might think that he would be used to the sensory overload the full moon brought with it, every sense heightened and intensified, a wave of primordial instincts rushing to the forefront of his mind.

One might think that he would be used to actually being a werewolf. But one would be wrong.

Because each and every month, without fail, Derek was overwhelmed by the thrall of the full moon and all its influencing effects. In mere moments, the control he worked so hard to maintain, in both his personal and professional lives, was shattered the instant the moon rose above the treetops.

Like clockwork, he and most of his family succumbed to their lupine instincts, the moonlight baptizing them each month, letting them shed their human burdens and be reborn in the night. It was like a cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins being shot into their veins, invigorating them the way nothing else on earth possibly could.

Most took to the woods, in either full or beta shift, spending the night hunting white-tailed and mule deer, whetting their ravenous appetites with fresh venison, painting their lips and fangs with warm blood. Others spent the time satisfying their more carnal desires, locking themselves behind closed doors with their mates to romp around in the sheets, testing both the limits of the Hale House’s soundproofing and the integrity of the headboards.

Personally, Derek preferred the thrill of the hunt, having no mate or partner by any stretch of the imagination, spending his night on four paws instead of two feet. He reveled in the carefree rush of chasing down prey, his eyes glittering yellow in the dark depths of the forest as he brought a buck to bay, sinking his fangs into the ungulate’s throat.

But he was also prone to wander, especially after his eating his fill of freshly killed deer or elk, his entire pack poking fun at his ‘lone wolf’ tendencies as they had been dubbed, wandering away the from the pack for seemingly no reason. Usually, he didn’t remember his little episodes of midnight wanderlust, only recalling catching wind of the most wondrous scent he had ever even dreamed of encountering, drawn to it like a moth to the flame, or rather a wolf to the moon.

His sisters, and more often than not his uncle and even both of his parents, constantly teases him about the mysterious siren scent he kept finding himself inexplicably attracted to, it luring him like the sweetest ambrosia. Their ribbing was mostly tolerable, a necessary evil he had grown accustomed to throughout his childhood of growing up with all of his family, both immediate and extended, living under the same roof.

But what was truly insufferable was the fact that his mother insisted that it was the scent of his mate, thus why it was so very intoxicating to him, sometimes going off on unbelievably embarrassing tangents about how she had met their father. It was a story they had all heard a million times before, the details burned into their memories, with a few more sordid details added once they were old enough.

It was such a foolishly romantic notion that it couldn’t possibly be true, an old omega’s tale of true mates and the moon’s heavenly light guiding couples, together though, admittedly, he found the idea of mates rather palatable. He was bolstered by the knowledge that somewhere out there in the world was someone absolutely perfect for him, someone who complemented him completely.

Where he was shy and at times cold and distant, his mate would be extroverted and exuberant and warm. Where he was more domestic and content at home, his mate would be adventurous and energetic, loud where he was quiet. His mate would be the day to his night, the sun to his moon. And it would be perfect.

The very thought appealed to him a great deal, especially with his less than stellar dating history.

First, there had been Kate, a woman older than him by more than twenty years who had used her charms and worldliness to entice and seduce him when he was barely legal, only a high school senior. She had been his first real girlfriend, making him feel older and more confident than he actually was, his friends on the basketball team practically worshipping him for sleeping with an older woman, christening her Cougar Kate.

They had shortly thereafter learned that she came from what was possibly the most well known family of werewolf hunters, the harsh truth coming to light when she attempted to burn down the Hale House. Fortunately, they had caught her red-handed before she could strike a single match, having had the bright idea to use pure gasoline and kerosene, the mere scent waking up everyone in the house. She had been arrested on the spot, given a speedy trial during which she was quickly convicted of over twenty counts of attempted murder, sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.

Derek had sworn off relationships after that, shifting his focus to his studies. Having gotten into his first choice school, Stanford, he jumped headfirst into college life.

After graduating college with his Master’s in both education and history, he started dating Jennifer Blake, an English professor at a local community college. She had too had initially been sweet and intriguing, engaging him in the most intriguing talks about literature and the humanities but she hadn’t been much better than Kate in the long run.

In all actuality, she was not merely an English teacher, she was also a darach, a former emissary who had been betrayed by her ex-girlfriend and former pack. Apparently, from what Derek could gather, her plan was to siphon off as much energy from him and his family as she could, conspiring to conduct a series of sacrifices to revitalize her own power enough so she could exact revenge on her former pack.

It was all very convoluted and downright crazy, like something out of a bad Syfy original movie Peter always insisted on watching for the sole purpose of verbally ripping them apart, pointing out plot holes and awful dialogue. Again, luckily, they had discovered her devious little plot before she could lay a finger on a single virgin, shooing her out of their territory after relieving her of the last remainders of her power.

After all of that, Derek had completely sworn off any sort of romantic relationships, along with any sexual relationships, vehemently refusing to join any dating sites or pick up a one night stand like Laura and Erica insisted he do. With his luck, he would probably end up sleeping with a succubus, or an incubus as he had officially announced that he was bisexual shortly after graduating high school, after the whole Kate debacle.

Instead, he dedicated all of his time and energy to his family and his career, pouring all of himself, body and soul, into his new job at Beacon University, teaching History 135: Native American and Indigenous Peoples. And while he loved his job with all his heart, and his family even more so, he had to admit that sometimes he did long for a partner.

He longed for someone to curl up on the couch with after a long day, wrapped up in a warm blanket as they cuddled by the fireplace. He longed for someone to come home to after a long day of teaching and grading papers, someone to greet him with a quick kiss and a, “How was your day?”

He wanted someone he could bring home to meet his family, someone both of his parents could interrogate about their intentions with him, putting the fear of the moon into them. He wanted someone he could rely on to always be there for him, through thick and thin, through good times and bad.

He wanted someone he could wake up to on mornings like this.

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Water In My Soul [Jikook mermaid!au] ; Chapter Two

Pairing: Jikook
Chapters: 1/??
Genre: Fantasy, slight angst, slight comedy, slight nsfw (later on)
Chapter 2: Word count; 4,270
“I’m going to find you again. You just wait.“ He mumbled to himself, determined to find the blue-tailed boy that had him questioning not only his reasoning, but his very sanity.

When Jeon Jungkook, average high schooler, has an encounter with a not so average blue-tailed, pink haired boy at a senior getaway by the beach, he’s left to question between reality and illusion.

                                                   Chapter 2

Darkness, abyss, cold, asphyxiating. These were some of the things he felt, looking up at the far sun rays shining through the surface of the great body of water. He tried to swim up, but for nothing, as his legs seemed to be held together. His heart beat wildly, the pit of his stomach sunken from knowing these were his last moments, possibly no one finding out what actually happened to him, for his body would soon be devoured by sea life, never to be seen again. He felt as his lungs filled with water, soon his world going dark, the burning in his chest subsiding, along with the beat of his heart within it.

Jungkook shot up in his bed in a panic, breath heavy and coming in pants, his chest heaving at a quick pace with each ragged breath he took. His frame was drenched in a cold sweat, along with his bed sheets, the sound of his blaring alarm clock filled the dimmed bedroom, the sun just now beginning to rise against the ocean’s horizon. Jungkook sighed and ran a hand through his hair, bringing his other to turn the alarm off. His eyes traveled over to his open window, letting the ocean’s breeze fill his somewhat messy bedroom as he watched the waves ripple in the distance, his mind automatically going to the boy he had seen the night before. He stood up off his bed, ripping the bed sheets from off his bed and tossing them in the hamper, storming off into the shower, not at all wanting to have to go to school or even be anywhere but in his room at that.

The smell of warm breakfast reached Jungkook as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom, grabbing his backpack on the way and fixing his uniform’s collar with furrowed brows. There was no way his mother was back from Chicago so soon, she was thirteen hours away and had left just two nights ago, if anything she would be back at least a week from now. He made his way downstairs, turning the corner into his kitchen to see someone’s back view, them wearing a grey sweatshirt with the same uniform pants as him. He rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, eyes staring daggers at the other male.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?” Jungkook’s voice sounded across the room, making the  older boy jump in surprise and drop the carton of milk he was currently holding into the sink, luckily not spilling any. Taehyung turned on his heel, smile against his lips with a tilted head, his eyes shining despite the early hour of the morning.

“Good morning, kid.” He chuckled softly, going over to the stove and, with the spatula, picking up the pancake he was currently cooking. He placed the pancake into a plate and motioned with his head for Jungkook to follow him to the table that held toast and scrambled eggs in plates and orange juice in cups. Jungkook eyed the table with suspicious eyes, brows furrowed, yet followed nonetheless. 

“What horrible thing did you do that you’re trying to make up for?” Jungkook questioned, slowly taking a seat across from Taehyung at the dining table. Taehyung only smiled and shook his head, also taking a seat at the table. He glanced up at Jungkook and pursed his lips, seeming to try and find the right words to say. He then licked over his lips and spoke truthfully.

“Last night wasn’t the best,” An understatement. “And I know your mom isn’t in town, Korea even, so I’d thought I’d cheer you up a bit.” He shrugged nonchalantly yet the smile stayed upon his features as he took a sip from his cup of juice. “Besides, I know you’ve been feeding off of fruit snacks and chocolate milk for two days and some real food wouldn’t kill you, alright?” Jungkook brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, another habit of his when he was flustered or embarrassed. He took the fork in his hand and took a bite from his pancakes, nodding in appreciation to the taste.

“Thank you.” He muffled between full cheeks. He truly was grateful for the other, Taehyung had been with him ever since he could remember, his entire life has been spent with Taehyung, despite the age difference, which didn’t even matter now that Taehyung was only older by a couple months. He always made sure Jungkook was cared for, standing up for him when he was teased by classmates, making sure he was fed and well. Taehyung was honestly like Jungkook’s brother, but he’d never admit that. Too mushy for him. The rest of breakfast was spent in comfortable silence, both boys too focused on the food before them to put up any type of conversation. 

School, in particular, was something Jungkook wasn’t the best at. It’s not like he didn’t try, he just didn’t try hard enough. If there was one thing Jungkook was, it was lazy. He was most certainly the laziest person he knew. Not only was he lazy, but he procrastinated more than your average high schooler should; So when his English teacher confronted him at lunch about the book report that had been due the day before yesterday, he caught himself stuttering to try and make up an excuse right on the spot, which sadly didn’t come to him, his mind focused on other things. He was startled by the feeling of someone stepping close to stand next to him, turning his head to see Jin, a smile against the boy’s lips.

“You see, teacher, he had sent it to me to print it out but I had no ink.” Jin frowned, Jungkook’s brows raised as he watched him, soon feeling the elder elbow him as a signal for him to go along with it. He nodded and looked the teacher in the eye, not looking away as a way to not seem insecure or doubtful. At any other given time, this particular teacher would’ve scolded both Jin and Jungkook. Jin, for getting in between the two without being called for or even mentioned, and Jungkook for not telling him in advance that he had these troubles, yet he only smiled and said to turn it in when Jungkook had the time. Jungkook knew two things, that his professor took a liking to Jin, and that Jin knew it very well and used this to his advantage. What he didn’t get was why Jin decided to help him out once again.

“You really should write that report, he’ll have your ass if you don’t.” Jin turned to look at the younger once the professor had walked away. Jungkook just watched him with curious eyes, nodding slowly before he noticed Jin stick his hand out, one hand still holding onto his lunch tray. “Seokjin.” He introduced himself by his full name. Jungkook didn’t understand any of this. He didn’t know why Seokjin was being nice to him, not only from saving him last night to even covering for him in front of one of the strictest teachers. He did the same, taking Seokjin’s hand into his own and giving him a somewhat firm handshake.

“Jungkook.” He mumbled softly, nodding slowly and still keeping his eyes on the elder, he then looked down at his food tray, not really knowing what to say. It was clear Jin had taken him off guard since last night. “Thank you, you know, for that.” He glanced up at the higher classman through his lashes, seeing him shake his head and smile wider. 

“No need to thank me, that’s alright.” He nodded, shaking the gratitude off. Jungkook looked back up at him, curiosity pooling within his brown eyes. Clearly, there was many things he didn’t know, and Jin was just another one of those mysteries. Why was he helping him out? Was it only because he was friends with Namjoon and Namjoon was nice to Jungkook? All these questions swam within his mind and he was going to ask one of them when he heard the obnoxious voice behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook! Hurry the fuck up!” Taehyung shouted, most people in the cafeteria either turning to look at him or turning to look at Jungkook. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, turning a bit to look over at his best friend, and to his surprise, see him sitting at a table with Namjoon, both of them looking back at Jin and Jungkook with the same surprised facial, not expecting to see them speaking to one another.

“Let’s go.” Jin smiled happily and nudged Jungkook to walk towards the table, him taking a seat next to Namjoon while Jungkook hesitated a bit. He didn’t want trouble, and seniors always came with trouble. Have it be drama related or literal illegal trouble. Jungkook wanted nothing to do with it; but nonetheless, there he was, going to sit and have lunch with them anyway. 

“So I see you’ve met Jin.” Namjoon spoke with a smile, glancing over at his best friend who held up a peace sign at the two youngers while chewing on a piece of bread. Jungkook nodded and grinned a bit, not one to talk much in the first place. He took a sip from his carton of milk, running a hand through his hair as he did so.

“I’m Taehyung.” The boy smiled brightly before taking a bite of his sandwich. Seokjin replied with a muffled ‘Nice to meet you’ as his mouth was also full of food. Jungkook saw the similarity between Seokjin and Taehyung. They both seemed way too happy all the time and were both equally as messy. Namjoon only laughed and picked at his food, not seeming to have an appetite or just not liking the meal in general.

“You guys wanna do something?” Namjoon offered after a moment of silence. Warning bells were already sounding in Jungkook’s head, he didn’t like the way Namjoon phrased that question, it practically shouted trouble. The three other’s at the table looked up at him with the same question in their eyes, looking around one another before back at Namjoon.

“Do what?” Seokjin asked the obvious question at the table. Namjoon grinned a bit and shrugged before leaning close to  the table. The other three did the same, not really knowing why they had to but just knowing that Namjoon wanted to keep whatever they were going to do a secret. 

“Let’s skip last two periods and do something, anything.” He spoke, glancing over at everyone. Seokjin seemed convinced instantly, shrugging and leaning back into his seat while continuing to pick at his food. Taehyung looked over at Jungkook and Jungkook only looked back at Taehyung. Jungkook knew his best friend would say yes for two reasons. One being that he absolutely hated school anyway, and two being he had always wanted to hang out with the seniors. Jungkook didn’t understand why Taehyung was so hung over wanting to hang with them all the time but, then again there were a lot of things Jungkook didn’t understand. Taehyung silently pleaded at Jungkook, doing his familiar puppy dog eyes. Jungkook didn’t ever feel bad for him, the second-hand embarrassment just always made him agree. With a sigh, Jungkook slumped his shoulders in defeat, not agreeing to this idea but going along with it because, why not?

An idea popped into Jungkook’s head, an idea he had been thinking over almost all night, and that was to find the boy that almost tried to kill him the night before. “Let’s go to the beach.” He spoke, silently hoping they would say yes. Namjoon looked over to Seokjin and Seokjin seemed to smile a bit, nodding happily.

“I could use a surf.” He spoke, standing and tossing the food on his tray into the trash before leaving the tray on top of the trash can. “Besides, I always keep my board in the car.” He chuckled and leaned on the table, waiting for everyone else at the table to take their stand, which they did and soon began to walk out together.

“You? Actually socializing? Are you sick or something?” Namjoon quietly teased Seokjin as he held a hand up to his forehead, an expression of fake shock against his facial features. Seokjin let out a sarcastic laugh, slapping Namjoon’s hand away before shrugging looking in front of him and seeing Jungkook and Taehyung exchange words and laugh amongst themselves.

“They’re different.” He nodded before walking faster and catching up to the two youngers, leaving Namjoon to only walk behind the three, smiling widely towards his best friend. More than happy to see him socialize and be accepted by more than just him.

The smell of the salty ocean filled Seokjin’s truck as they drove along the seaside, windows rolled down and heads sticking happily out of them. They laughed and sang along to the songs on the radio, hearts filled with teen spirit and content. Seokjin soon parked at the beach entrance, the same beach they had been at the night before turning the engine off and not bothering to roll the windows back up. They all hopped out of the car, stretching limbs and smiling. Jungkook’s eyes scanned the horizon, licking over his lips as he sighed. Taehyung moved to wrap his arm over Jungkook’s shoulders, also watching the horizon with him but with other intentions. “Last one in the water is gay.” He laughed and took off in a sprint, removing clothes on the way in. Jungkook had no time to process these words before the two others sprinted past him, already shirtless and Seokjin already with board in hand. 

“God damn it.” Jungkook spoke under his breath as he took off his shirt and sprinted after them, not having enough speed or time to reach them as he was the last to reach the ocean, the others’ laughter filling the air as he surfaced, flipping the hair out of his eyes. 

“You’re gay.” Taehyung teased with a laugh, splashing Jungkook with water. Jungkook only laughed and rolled his eyes, splashing the older back and flipping him  off. Seokjin sat up on his board, running a hand through his light brown hair as he watched the horizon as well. Another thing Jungkook didn’t understand in this world was why Seokjin wasn’t as popular as Namjoon. Seokjin clearly had the looks, broad-shouldered, tanned, supple skin, muscular arms and legs from surfing so much, hair naturally lightened by the sun’s rays, and dark, deep brown eyes, and he had a nice personality too. Why didn’t everyone pay the same attention to him as they did to Namjoon? Jungkook was brought out of his thoughts as he watched Seokjin take a wave, smiling in awe as the elder glided smoothly across it. He looked around to see if the other two were also watching it and noticed a glint in Namjoon’s eyes. The youngest of the group furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, again, there weren’t many things Jungkook understood in this world.

At the corner of his eye he saw movement, not just any movement, light pink movement. This made his heart sink as he turned his head to see nothing once again but rocks, sea and sand. His paranoia was getting the best of him, it had to be. There was no way in hell he would ever see that boy again, the odds were impossible, yet there Jungkook was, looking at the back of a pink-haired head who popped back up and seemed to be sitting behind a big rock. Jungkook’s breathing picked up, thankful that Seokjin had Taehyung and Namjoon’s attention. He needed to get to the pink mystery, he needed to get away from everyone else.

“I, uh, have to piss.” Jungkook announced, standing up and beginning to walk away from the group. Taehyung and Namjoon shared a look and furrowed their brows, turning back to watch the younger walking away.

“We’re in the ocean, just piss here.” Taehyung called out to the anxious boy. Jungkook turned and walked backwards as he looked at Taehyung, his facial disgusted as he did so.

“Taehyung, that’s disgusting.” He called out over the sound of the crashing waves not too far in the distance, he turned back around once he had noticed the other two shrug and turn and do the same, them laughing hysterically at Seokjin wiping out against a wave. Jungkook couldn’t laugh, his heart slammed against his chest and his stomach was flipping mad crazy as he grew closer and closer. He stood there, looking at the pink hair from about two feet away. He opened his lips to speak but closed them once again, not knowing what to say, or even how to ask. 'Yes, hi, you sort of almost killed me last night and I saw your tail and I just wanted to see if you were real.’ Yeah, as if. Jungkook didn’t even know what he was going to say if this actually was the boy, why did he even want to find him in the first place? All he did was try to kill him. Jungkook’s thoughts were once again interrupted when the pink-haired person stood up from where he sat by the rock, turning to face Jungkook. His face mimicked Jungkook’s, eyes wide, mouth agape. The shock seen in his eyes were the same for both, not knowing what to say. Jungkook’s eyes traveled down to notice that the boy before him was completely and utterly nude. “Oh my god.” He spoke, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as he shut them, his breath picking up. He was about to have a panic attack, that or he was going absolutely crazy.

“H-Hello.” A soft voice spoke to him, it a bit squeaky yet sweet sounding nonetheless. Jungkook opened his eyes back up, licking over his lips and shaking his head, bringing both of his hands up to thread into his hair, not believing any of this for a second.

“I’ve lost my mind.” He muttered, beginning to pace back and forth. The other boy only stared at Jungkook, the same confusion and wonder going on in his own mind. This was the same human he saw yesterday, for sure, he had the same dark eyes, fair skin and pink lips, this had to be him. The pink-haired boy watched Jungkook pace, trying to do the same. He wobbled his way over to the boy currently having a mental breakdown, not being used to the whole walking on two legs thing. He then stared at Jungkook, who had stopped dead in his tracks, with furrowed brows, seeming to be concentrating long and hard about something.

“But your mind is right here, is it not?” He stated matter-of-factly, bringing an index finger to press against Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook flinched and moved away from the curious boy, breath erratic and mind jumbled up. This was real, this was actually happening. His name was being called by Taehyung, his best friend probably wondering what had him taking so long. Jungkook cussed under his breath, running a hand through his hair and nibbling against his bottom lip, distressed to no end.

“We have to get out of here, they can’t see you like this.” Jungkook looked around and saw the three still in the ocean, talking amongst themselves and taking turns to sit on Seokjin’s board. Jungkook hesitantly took the pink-haired boy by the hand, tugging him and beginning to walk quickly, something the other was not able to do as his legs wobbled and swayed. “What are you doing? Hurry up!” He rushed the other, tugging him more only resulting in the other falling flat against his side, a small 'oof’ sound coming from him. Jungkook instantly felt bad, not that he should, again, this guy tried to kill him, yet he did. He gulped and groaned a bit, lifting the other off from the ground and into his arms, beginning to speed walk past Seokjin’s truck and up the street to his house. 

“What is this?” The boy in his arms questioned softly, looking around while Jungkook carried him up into his bedroom. Jungkook didn’t look down at him, not wanting to have the other boy’s genitals all up in his face. He simply just kept his gaze forward and answered his question.

“A house.” He answered, walking into his room and setting the boy onto his feet. He then closed and locked the door, going into his closet and picking out two shirts, them both being white as he had quite the few of the same one. He tossed one over to the dazed boy which, of course, let it fall to the ground. Jungkook slipped his own and turned to see the other staring at the shirt cluelessly. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He breathed, going over to the boy and picking the shirt up off the ground, slipping it onto him. The other was quite short, the white shirt reaching his mid thigh, yet Jungkook felt that he was still a bit too exposed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, handing them over to the other. He only stared at it, neutral faced before glancing back up at Jungkook. “Hell no. I’m not putting these on you. One leg here, one leg here and pull them up.” Jungkook placed the boxers onto the boy’s lap and turned around. He soon heard all motion stop behind him and he turned around once again to see the boy sitting on his bed, looking up at him expectantly.

Back at the beach, the three males still waited for Jungkook. Taehyung got a weird feeling, knowing the younger boy more than he knew himself. Namjoon had returned from checking back by the rocks, shaking his head as he did so, signaling that Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

“Where could he have gone?” Seokjin asked, furrowing his brows in question as he and Taehyung both walked back to shore, dripping to the bone. Taehyung sighed and looked up the street then back at the dock that Jungkook had the incident, turning his attention back to the other two.

“He probably went home. Let’s go there.” He nodded and picked his and Jungkook’s clothes out from the sand and began to walk up the sand. Seokjin and Namjoon stayed back, both glancing at each other in question before hurrying to catch up to Taehyung.

“Is that okay for us to do so? Won’t he be mad?” Namjoon asked, licking over his lips, still salty from the ocean as his eyes scanned the houses at the seaside, them all having sort of the same design, yet looking quite elegant. It was obvious you’d have to have some money to live here. Taehyung shrugged him off and smiled, completely oblivious to what Jungkook was actually hiding. 

Once reaching the house, Taehyung called out to Jungkook, Jungkook jumping up in fear from where he currently was: on his knees, wet towel in one hand, band-aid in the other, cleaning the scrape on the pink-haired boy’s knee from when he fell on beach. He quickly put the band-aid on the other and stood up, anxiously pacing and trying to remain quiet yet knowing Taehyung would not quit until he found him. 

“I’ll be back, I’ll check his room.” Taehyung told the other two who only nodded with grins and leaned against the house’s frame, eyes scanning over the furnished residence. Taehyung made his way up to Jungkook’s room, knocking against the door. “Jungkook?” He called, knocking one more time. Jungkook was scared shitless at this time, he didn’t want anyone to know about the boy, at least not yet, he didn’t know how other’s would react. Jungkook took a deep breath and went over to the door, opening it to reveal only his neck and head.  

“Hey there.” He smiled tightly, watching Taehyung furrow his brows and tilt his head, trying to get a look inside. Taehyung knew something was up, and Jungkook knew Taehyung knew something was up and it wasn’t good. Not at all.

“ 'Hey there?’, Jungkook, why did you leave?” Taehyung questioned, getting on his tippy toes to try and see over Jungkook, which the other only blocked, getting on his toes as well, pretending to be stretching his limbs with a fake yawn.

“Just got, tired and all.” He hummed and began to nibble on his bottom lip, as always. Taehyung’s eyes averted down to them, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips as he hummed softly, meeting Jungkook’s eyes once again. Jungkook knew he fucked up right then and there, there was no way Taehyung didn’t know he was hiding something now. 

“Yeah, I mean, I totally understand and-” Taehyung cut himself off as he shoved the door open, the unsuspecting younger falling to the ground and the older opening the door widely and pointing. “Aha!” He interjected before he got a look at what it was, not knowing what he found but knowing that he found something. His features soon turned into those of shock, seeing the small boy swing his legs happily on Jungkook’s bed, wearing, not only Jungkook’s shirt, but Jungkook’s underwear as well. Jungkook, still on the ground, noticed what this may have looked like, and he knew damn well what Taehyung was going to say about this.

“Tae-” He tried to say while getting up on his feet before he was interrupted by his elder, moving his finger from pointing at the other boy to pointing at Jungkook, eyes neutral and brows raised.

“I freaking knew you were gay." 


Dean/Cas. 1.4k Post 12x10. (ao3)

It snows in Lebanon on the last weekend of January, a few days after Sam, Dean, and Cas return from their run-in with Isham. Cas notices the quiet first, a bone-chilling one, eerie, that breaks through the immovable Bunker walls around daybreak. He’s up early, unable to fall asleep these days due to his grace and persistent thoughts that cloud his mind. Instead he just rests, tries to faux-slumber for a few hours in his room until Sam or Dean get up and make the Bunker feel smaller, more homey again. Wearing one of Dean’s sweatshirts, and holding a mug of steaming coffee in his hand, he opens the front door and is met with glittering sunlight and a snowdrift covering his slipper-clad feet.

The wind whips at his hair, peppering his dark hair with white. He steps back away from the door, shaking his feet to get the snow off. Snow is colder than he remembers, and the wind-chill causes his body to ache, and his limbs to quiver.

He’s not supposed to feel the elements, he’s not supposed to feel anything, but he passed up being an automaton of an angelic soldier long ago. It’s not a mystery as to why things changed, he knows why, he’s always known.

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anonymous asked:

Just against the one who did that or against them all? Im glad ur ok tho! Do u think you'll be able to get anything done about it?

My uncle is a cop, so I’m gonna call him when the sun rises. I’m gonna press charges against the person that doxxed me and those who reblogged the doxx information.

We're the Ones Who Live: Richonne One Shots Chapter 5: Revenge
A/N: An incredibly tiny ficlet I penned in between writing for personal projects. Happy Easter, readers! Have a dose of Richonne Revenge!

Originally posted by sugarh16

“Are you ready?”

Rick leaned closer, his lip just brushing his wife’s ear. Michonne was crouched beside him, her round, dark eyes fixed on a point ahead of them.

“Ready,” she nodded, her gaze still fixed.

“You remember the plan?” he prompted her again, nervous now.

“Of course.” Still she did not look at him, but slowly unsheathed her katana.

“Michonne,” Rick tugged gently at a stray loc of hair, directing her attention towards him. “We agreed-”

“I know,” her eyes flicked at him for the briefest of moments. “But I see her, Rick.”

Rick followed Michonne’s stare upwards to the top of the metal wall. Two bodies were silhouetted against the rising sun, one tall and lanky, the other sporting an unconventional haircut.

“Hon, we talked about this. I’m fine.” Rick absentmindedly rubbed the scar on his waist.

“She won’t be,” Michonne’s grip tightened around the handle of her sword.

Rick opened his mouth once more to utter calming words, his hand clasping around the smooth, dark skin on her arm. A laugh floated down through the quiet morning air, a sardonic sound that Rick was familiar with. Rick filled with anger almost immediately, his rage removing all other thought.

“On three?” Michonne bounced lightly, adjusting her feet beneath her.

“On three,” he agreed. He paused, leaning over to kiss Michonne. She tilted her head, returning his affections, her eyes leaving the two targets for the first time that morning.

“See you when it’s done,” Rick removed his python, thumbing the safety.

“See you when it’s done,” she echoed.

As Rosita’s explosion rocked the front gate, Michonne and Rick stood together, running into battle.

Eyes squint against the rising sun
I am still as stones.
World silent save the humming fan
And the castigations in my head.

Tears only remind me of my weakness;
Rending self asunder, pieces of me
Gleaming glitter as the light
Bounces back from the splinters.

All the Things Left Unsaid

Originally posted by sebastianstahp


Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: This was better in my head idk what happened but here. I also don’t know if I’ll make this multi-part…we’ll see how this one is received… Also I have like 50 sex headcanons requests…thanks a lot fam 

Words: approx. 2K

Prompt: All the things he wanted to say…all the things he never said. 

Warnings: feelz, angst, just the slightest bit of fluff, death, sad Borky


Bucky vaguely remembers everything being red.

He sees the cherry red of her painted lips. He sees the promiscuous red of the dress that clings to the frame of the beautiful woman in his arms as he danced with her slowly, a promising smile on his face mirroring her own.

He sees the red fullness of her cheeks as he kissed them softly, holding her close as they swayed to the music of her favorite song. He can hear her singing softly in his ear, a wide grin on her face, her posture relaxed despite her disguise having been for a mission.

He hears the soft, calming red of the singer’s voice. He hears the bloodthirsty red of her controlled voice as she whispered that she had spotted their target. He hears the alarming red in her panicked shout as she warns him to get out of the building.

He feels the sweet, sticky red of her blood as he cradles her frame in his arms, begging for her to keep her eyes open.

He feels the red fade to grey as he sees her eyes darken, a small smile on her face.

He feels the tang of the crimson red now flowing freely from his side from the shrapnel lodged in his upper abdomen.

He hears the angry red of his own cry.

And then, everything is black.

It’s one of the few times that they’d been able to spend some time together, despite the dance having been for an undercover mission. It was the one time they’d both been able to be happy, in the midst of danger. In each other’s arms.

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Hermes - A few steps ahead of his dreams, he chases his youth from city to city. He knows the moon too well for someone so young, knows what it’s like to walk until the sun rises. He is headlights smudged against a rain soaked highway; he is the footsteps you hear at 2am. Constantly searching for beautiful places, in the day he walks with his head in the clouds. He is hitchhiking in the back of the pick up truck and he is stolen kisses and he is smiles filled with mischief. His eyes are daring, and his hands grip tightly as he runs with you through the city lights.