shoulder tear

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

The thing that is getting to me the most about news of Carrie Fisher’s autopsy report is not the results themselves, but the way the media is handling it. Like it’s a Gotcha moment—like somehow we were tricked into thinking she was a better person than she actually was.

And that is profoundly bullshit.

Carrie was open about being an addict. Her opening line from her iconic stand up show (and book by the same name) “Wishful Drinking” was quite literally, “Hi, I’m Carrie Fisher, and I’m an alcoholic.”

She talked at length and in often brutal depth about her problems with substance abuse, her compulsive self destructive tendencies, and her dependencies to both illegal and prescription drugs. She wrote about it in her books, she talked about it on talk shows. She made an entire comedic stand up performance out of it, detailing the lengths she went to in order to try and regain some semblance of safety and normalcy in her life. 

She was brutally honest that every single day was a struggle for sanity after years and years of attempting to self medicate a mental illness that for most of her life was mistaken for feckless lack of self control. 

You know how they way “Religion is the opiate of the masses?” Well I took masses of opiates religiously! -Wishful Drinking

She was bright, and beautiful and bold about it. And she didn’t have to be.

Carrie Fisher didn’t have to stand there and take the shitstorm of criticism people launched at her for decades, let alone turn it into humor. She didn’t. She didn’t owe anyone outwith her immediate family an explanation for her erratic behavior over the years, nor the flack she caught for it. (Think of all the male actors in Hollywood who are in and out of rehab centers so quickly they could harness the revolving doors as a wind turbine. Then tell me the media press about her life and now her death are fair.)

But she did it anyway, because she knew it was important. And she took those bright lights of Hollywood shining down on her like a ruthless, malevolent child holding a magnifying glass under the sun—and she turned that merciless heat and pointed it at things that mattered, often at the expense of herself, opening herself up to ridicule and the severe cruelty of others who lambasted her for everything, ranging from her weight, her mental illness or her audacity to simply grow old.

Is it tragic that her addiction likely cost her her life? Yes, of course it is. Does it invalidate any of her achievements? The strength and vibrancy with which she lived her life and touched the lives of millions around her for the better? 

“I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?” 

-The Princess Diarist

Carrie Fisher mattered, her voice mattered. The things that she said and did, mattered. They still matter. And they are no less true and poignant in the light of these revelations.

Addiction is a disease. It’s a dysfunction of the brain’s reward system which requires constant management and care and often goes hand in hand with other mental health disorders. It is not simply a question of willpower or the perceived lack thereof. And while sobriety is to be praised and encouraged—of course it is, of course it absolutely unquestionably is—you cannot possibly know what may cause a person to slip or to feel like they can’t cope without that crutch. And shame on anyone who says it was therefore deserved. 

Shame and my heartfelt wishes that you never go through the things that can lead to serious addiction. Or that you are ever abandoned, derided and regarded as less than human because of it and your death turned into a smear campaign against your memory for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

Yes. Carrie Fisher was an addict, she had drug dependency problems related to her mental health. There was a time she kept it hidden, but after she made the decision to come out about it, she stuck by that decision and became a champion, for herself and everyone like her who struggles. Because she never wanted anyone to suffer like she did in order to get help. And she did it with as much grace and humility as she could manage—and a whole lot more indignity, immodesty, crass humor and love as well. Because that’s who she was and she cared. 

And that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said for those crowing over her death like it’s just deserts.

Fuck you.

People do not exist to stand up to your demands of a perfect ideal of humanity. You do not get to place that burden on the shoulders of someone then tear them apart when they fall under that weight—famous or otherwise.

Fuck you and your whole pretense at moral piety and the horse you rode in on.

Carrie Fisher was not your unproblematic fave. She was in fact extremely problematic, and no one knew that better than she did. 

“I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I’ve arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone’s idea of heaven, I could swear sometimes—if I’m quiet enough—I can hear the angels sing. Either that or I fucked up my medication again.” 

-Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking.

seven signs

Summary: Bucky feels like he’s falling in love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none - pure fluff!

Word Count: 2.1k [yikes, sorry]

A/N: Here’s my submission for the ever lovely Gen’s @bucky-plums-barnes 8k celebration - congrats again, sweetheart! My prompt was: “You know I only have eyes for you.” - hope you all enjoy :) || masterlist


Originally posted by minmiin1d


Keep reading

All I’ve got II pt. 1

Jungkook x reader

genre: tattooed!jungkook, badboy!jungkook, angst, contents of smut, violent actions, slight fluff

word count: 12.1k


Jeon Jungkook was a tall guy, handsome with all those ethereal artwork tattooed on his arms..and your best friend. He was by your side whereas you faced a painful heartbreak, caressing your hurt soul for as long as you needed him. But how much can a friendship withstand if one of the two develops feelings?

Keep reading

Remember last summer’s chibis? The first meeting between Chibi Bucky and Big Steve, Bucky in the cardboard-box like an homeless kitty, Steve facing off against Big!Tony, and then Steve and Sam looking everywhere for “Steve’s Bucky”??
Yeah, here’s the ending of THAT journey at last!! ;D

Since I’ve been traipsing around a different continent for the past three months, I haven’t even seen the rest of the season and the finale… but let me tell you what happens anyway after last night’s Apparent Clusterfuck:

As Dean Winchester stands next to his prone angel, morbidly fascinated by the ash wings burned into the ground around his feet, he feels completely and utterly numb. He’s only had the presence of mind not to step on them, an easy thing given the fact that they’re so bare of feathers.

Carefully, and still without thinking, the hunter lowers himself to his knees, brow furrowed and lip trembling as he attempts to process what is clearly right before him.

Castiel is dead.

Still, Dean can’t help extending a shaking hand. His fingers gently trace the curve of Cas’s cheekbone in a way he never would have allowed himself if the other was still breathing, and despite the fact that his mouth feels like sandpaper and he can feel Castiel’s skin turning cold he asks the question anyway:

“…C-Cas?”

Dean can feel Sam staring holes through his back, but that’s the extent of any response to his query.

“Cas, wake up.”

His voice is a broken croak, but Dean keeps speaking anyway, turning bolder and more desperate with every second that reality sinks in.

“Cas? Castiel, wake up. Wake up, Cas! Cas!”

He’s pawing at his angel now, vision blurring until he has to blink to clear it. He all but throws himself across Castiel’s torso to uselessly slap at his cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.

“You stupid son of a bitch, wake up! Wake up, Castiel! Don’t you dare leave me, don’t…”

Castiel is still motionless when Dean collapses against him. “Don’t go,” the hunter whispers pitifully into his angel’s neck. He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a sob. “Please. I… Cas, I…” His heart is in his throat as he turns his head to press a light kiss behind the other’s ear, moving to put his lips against Castiel’s own for the first and last time. “…I love you, you dumb angel,” he murmurs. “So you gotta wake up. Cas. Cas, I love you, so you hafta…”

When nothing happens, Dean curls himself over his angel and cries.

Sam joins him after a time, crouching to put a hand to his shoulder and blinking back tears himself. Soon, though, they have to go. “Dean. Dean, we have to get out of here.”

“Sammy, I–”

“I know. It’ll be okay.”

But when they both turn away from Cas for the first time, God isn’t who they’re expecting to find. In all honesty, they’re not expecting to find anyone… and yet, there he is: Chuck, dressed in a robe and stained pj pants.

“You love my son?” Is all he asks, piercing gaze boring into Dean. Dean takes a step back as if to protect Castiel’s form from his own father, and that apparently is good enough. Chuck nods sagely. “I don’t play favourites, you know,” he says. “I did that once with Lucifer and it didn’t end well… but Castiel is, different. He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted angels to be. He makes mistakes. He learns. And yet every time I bring him back, he ends up risking his life for you.”

Dean holds his breath. Chuck sighs. “I love my son, I would give him the world if I could.” There’s a beat, and Chuck tilts his head to the side. “But we’ve both seen what happens when he has unlimited power. Besides, at the end of the day… I think he really just wants you.”

And then God is gone.

Dean is confused for only a moment before there’s a gasping breath from behind him and a hacking cough, Castiel sitting upright and flushed and so very alive that Dean can do nothing but throw himself to the ground. He tackles Cas in a kiss before the other has time to say a word, pressing him to the floor and putting everything he is into the contact.

When he pulls away, Cas is bright red and smiling with the approximate wattage of the sun. “Dean,” he murmurs, awed. “I’m… I mean, I…”

Dean presses a finger to the other’s plump lips. “I love you,” he says simply.

And Castiel moves to kiss him again.

A Simple Suggestion

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Originally posted by akumatisedmari

So I had a dream last night. A dream that Ladybug and Chat Noir moved out of their homes into a studio apartment together so they could be around each other and get to akuma attacks quickly and always be alert.

But they never detransformed. They were always suited up and just lived together like two best friends and kept the city safe.

@philosophy-and-coffee said it’d make a neat fic idea and had a few cute ideas to add on to it, so…naturally, I wrote it. 

A Simple Suggestion
Summary: Breaks from patrol often allow time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk and be themselves. But when a silly joke starts to seem all that…well, not silly, the two find themselves considering something neither of them had ever before: moving in together. 
The tricky part is still keeping their identities a secret.
Rated: G (might change to T later)
Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir

Chapter 1 - A joke
Word count: 1,464
Read on: ao3 

Next Chapter >>


It had started out as a joke.

Chat Noir had thrown the idea into the air one night when they’d taken a break from patrol. The city was quiet, the breeze that danced through the open sky was refreshing, and the laughter that had accompanied his voice had made Marinette smile all too wide.

“What if we moved in together?” he’d asked with a nervous twitch of his tail. “I’ve been preparing to move out for a while, but…I don’t know. Something about the thought of living alone makes me nervous.”

“You mean-” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Us? Move in together? Like, Ladybug and Chat Noir living together?”

“Yeah,” Chat laughed. “What if?”

At first, she’d given her partner nothing more than a chuckle and a dismissive pat on the shoulder, shaking her head at the simple notion. It had been such a funny thing for him to suggest that the giggles that rose from her throat had been all too hard to suppress. Even if she secretly didn’t despise the idea, she knew it would never work out.

“How would we even manage that?” she asked, swinging her legs over the ledge of the apartment complex they had paused upon and taking in a breath of the atmosphere. She could detect a small hint of food cooking somewhere, and in the distance music played, which added to the comforting ambiance of the city she adored so much. “We’d just walk around in our own home transformed, like it was a completely normal thing?”

Chat Noir offered a shrug, looking a tad sheepish. “Hah, yeah, I guess that does sound kind of stupid.”

A frown replaced Marinette’s smile, and she felt a small hint of guilt for her previous comment. “Well,” she said in an attempt to fix her blunder. “I don’t know about stupid…”

“It would probably be weird,” Chat continued, “and awkward at times…and it wouldn’t be easy…”

Marinette nodded.

“…but I dunno,” he sighed, shifting his gaze. “Part of me thinks we’d be able to make it work.”

Allowing the thought to process, Marinette tapped her finger along the aged paneling of the roof they sat atop, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she sought for a reply.

Would they be able to make it work?

After all, she’d been thinking about moving out of the bakery soon due to space, and she didn’t like the idea of living alone either…and Alya was already sharing an apartment Nino…

“Maybe,” Marinette said, a hint of humor in her voice. “But we’d be together all the time, and I can’t exactly picture myself cooking dinner wearing a skin-tight suit. Even if it would protect me from burns.”

Chat supplied a small snort of laughter at her statement. “I guess that’s a bonus. Would living together be so weird, though?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer with a “yes, of course!”, but paused as she couldn’t exactly find an explanation why it would be so odd for them to live together under those circumstances. Sure, it’d feel a bit off to walk around an apartment with her suit on, but by now Marinette was used to wearing polka-dots for long hours. She felt more natural in her transformation than she ever had five years prior when she was fourteen, freshly new to the world of superheroes and saving the city, and for a brief second the thought that maybe Chat’s idea wasn’t such a stupid one passed her mind.

It would be a hell of a lot more convenient for the both of them. They wouldn’t have to worry about when the other would show up during akuma attacks, or struggle going through a battle alone while one of them was on their way.

(Or, on the rare occurrence that a certain Ladybug slept in late during a rather difficult akuma attack, Chat Noir wouldn’t have to suffer through another hour of holding a violet butterfly within his paws and panicking over what he should do with it.)

A small grin twitched at the corner of Marinette’s mouth before a second thought passed her mind, causing the hint of a smile to fall.

She knew Chat Noir was dying to get out of his house. Nineteen years old and still suffocating under the watchful eye of his parents (parent?), Chat often expressed his sorrows about his home life with a forlorn sigh. Though he never delved too deeply into personal details, Marinette could tell just by the carefully worded sentences that he was having a difficult time staying happy in the house he’d lived in since he was a baby.

And, although she couldn’t relate, Marinette did feel for her friend. There were often times where she had considered begging Tikki to let them reveal their identities to each other just so she could take Chat Noir to the bakery and gift him a place to live that he looked forward to coming home to.

(Too many nights had she found Chat patrolling the city when there hadn’t been a scheduled patrol, after all.)

And now the words were on the tip of her tongue; the confirmation she knew her partner was secretly hoping for notwithstanding the fact that he was writing it off as a joke.

A joke that tugged at his lips in a sort of dejected smile that did not—would not—reach his eyes.

“I wonder how that would work,” Marinette whispered, eyes falling to the city streets below, where cars trailed lazily down the two-way street in a pale river of yellow lights. “Maybe we could make it work.”

One of Chat’s velvet ears twitched against his shaggy blond hair, and his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment. Even in the second of shared eye contact Marinette could see the tiny spark of hope that glowed within them, and she couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread across her face.

Maybe they could move in together. Sure, she’d have to talk to Tikki about it first, and they’d have to find an inconspicuous apartment in the middle of the city together, and it would wouldn’t be easy…

But…

But…no. That was just silly.

A silly, silly idea. It wouldn’t work out. How would they keep their identities secret? How would they be able to live life as normal civilians and go about their daily duties—work, university, grocery shopping—without revealing themselves?

You’ll never know until you try, a little voice peeped in the back of Marinette’s mind. What could be so bad about it?

What could be so bad? Well, they could accidentally come home destransformed, or sleepwalk in their pajamas, or both walk up to the front door at the same time without their suits on, or, or-

Or…what?

All of those situations could easily be avoided. They could set rules. Marinette could make masks so they wouldn’t have to be transformed all of the time, or they could turn out the lights every now and then. Or maybe they could set certain days where they would stay transformed so they could hang out.

Huh…the whole idea was beginning to seem a lot simpler than it had been three minutes ago.

Yeah, Marinette replied to the earlier thought, what could be so bad?

She knew of plenty of things that could be bad, as her anxiety had ways of creating the most outlandish situations. For now, however, she ignored them.

Looking over to Chat Noir, Marinette smiled, giving his back (which was slumped over in a sad sort of way) a gentle pat. He responded by sitting up straight, a question on his lips and hope in his gaze, ears perked up in interest. They stared at each other for a breath or two before Marinette exploded into a fit of laughter, her stomach clenching with the force of of her chortle.

Chat flinched at first, obviously surprised by her sudden outburst, but a second later he joined her in the ocean of giggles that had flooded between them. His smile was so wide that Marinette could see the white glint of his teeth and lovely crinkles around his eyes, as well as the shake of his shoulders and a single tear—whether it be from laughter or relief—that slid down his cheek.

And that was how Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, nineteen-year-old baker’s daughter found herself transformed and heaving box after box into a two-bedroom apartment smack dab in the middle of Paris a month later with a black cat trailing just a step behind her, placing a few of his own boxes on the wide, empty wooden floor.

It had been a crazy, crazy idea.

But sometimes, Marinette knew, the craziest of ideas were the best of all.

Shoutout to everyone who got out and voted today!

And shoutout to everyone who worked hard getting people out to vote—those of y'all who worked the phonebanks, who went door to door talking to people, and who volunteered for various campaigns!

The results of today’s elections are proof of what change people can make if we actually participate in the political process and get out and vote in order to assure that our country, states, and local communities continue to progress forward and that the rights of marginalized people are protected and their lives improved.

Don’t let it be said that your vote doesn’t count and don’t believe that it’s impossible to fight against the bigoted, destructive policies put forth by Donald Trump and his ilk. Your vote DOES count and all of our votes together are a force of change that can affect things for the better.

It is so important that everyone who is able to vote does so in every election every year and that we continue to educate people about the importance of voting while protesting for the removal and prevention of destructive policies that restrict voting rights. This is the only way we can fight fascism and tyranny, it is the only way we can progress rather than stagnate and slide back in time.

twitter.com
❁❀✿✾ on Twitter
“世選はぜったい大丈夫だよ(^^)”

Today on ‘I’m Gonna Cry over Fanart’

What traveling has taught me:

-It’s not a race. I was always so bummed about the number of countries I’ve been to compared to other people my age until I understood that the number of places visited is not what traveling is about at all. It’s not important about how many places you’ve been but the depth you’ve explored them. I have been to some beautiful places all around the world that I am insanely grateful for. We can not compare our journeys to others.

-Read books you normally wouldn’t read. Question each line. Watch movies you normally wouldn’t go see. Study the cinematography. Order the meal on the menu you can’t pronounce. This is how you discover new parts of yourself.

-Take care of our earth. We are destroying it faster than we even know. Humans need places that have not been altered or rearranged by man.

-Simplify. Clean. Get rid of shit. We don’t need a lot to live. Oh, and, pack light.

-Walk barefoot. Harden the bottom of your feet. Wear less makeup and dress the way you want. Be comfortable with your natural body. Drink more water. Take care of yourself.

-You have the power to choose love. Love the sky, the stars, the animals, the people, the trees, the street corners. Always choose to love.

-Going alone is okay. If we all waited for someone to travel with us, we’d be waiting for a very, very long time. So, please go even if you have no one to go with. There are millions of people all over the world that are just waiting to meet you. Some of them you’ll meet in a hostel room and you’ll end up spending the night walking through the street markets, some of them you’ll meet at a bar and discover new corners of a city you didn’t know existed, some of them you’ll meet sitting on a bench at a bus stop and you’ll end up sharing the best coffee you’ve probably ever had, some of them you’ll meet watching the sunset on the beach and you’ll end up sharing stories and laughing with them until the morning and some of them will end up being your best friends. And sometimes you’re going to be alone and going on tours, to the movies, or to restaurants sounds scary to do by yourself at first but soon enough you’ll learn that it is completely okay to be alone. Solo does not mean lonely.

-Don’t say you don’t like anything until you try it at least three times.

-Save your change.

-Spend less time on social media. It’s no secret that social media is addictive and it’s really good at taking away precious moments. It’s important to not be glued to your phone or laptop while abroad. Social media will always be there for you when you get home.

-Traveling is overly romanticized. It is very hard work. It does not solve all your problems that you have at home. And traveling is not what it looks like on Instagram.

-When you’re eating, really taste your food. Talk to the locals. Immerse yourself fully into this new culture. When you’re out hiking, let go of your phone. This is how you’re going to get the best experience possible. Live in the moment.

-Take photos. It is physically impossible to remember all these moments in your life. Someday down the road, maybe when you’re feeling a little depressed or bored, you can grab your camera and scroll through these photos that’ll remind you of some of the best times of your life.

-It’s okay to look like a tourist. It’s cool to make mistakes. Don’t be afraid to ask a questions. If you make a mistake, do or say something offensive then and apologize and move on. Your life won’t be over.

-Cheesy souvenirs are never worth it. Collect sea glass, your train tickets, plane tickets, maps, stickers and coins. Chances are those colosseum magnets you bought in rome were really made in china. Support the locals if you’re going to buy souvenirs.

-People are good. I’m sure you’ve heard or experienced this before but the people with nearly nothing are the most giving. We can all learn something from them.

-The world is not as bad and scary as the news makes it out to be.

-Nothing will ever go as you expect it to. Plans go out the door. I learned this the hard way. In fact, I am sure every traveler has learned this the hard way. You’ll miss flights, you’ll get flat tires on road trips, you’ll end up spending a lot more money than you expected, you’ll miss buses, you’ll have to run to trains to get to them on time, I promise you’ll have a dead battery when all you want to do is call mom to make you feel better, the hostel you wanted will be full, your dumb airline will lose all your luggage, things will get canceled and you’ll spend many unexpected nights crying but despite all the struggles that traveling brings upon us, it is always worth it. The tears, sore shoulders and blistered feet are always worth it. There’s no point in getting mad that your plan fell through.

-Everything happens for a reason. If you get an opportunity, take it and if something comes along in your life to change it, let it.

WHO ELSE WAS LITERALLY GASPING FOR McFUCKING AIR DURING ELIZABETH AND WILL’S REUNION BECAUSE I WAS ABOUT TO PASS OUT

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


“Out!”

It’s the first thing Y/n wakes up to, Savannah’s outraged voice echoing along the walls of Y/n’s bedroom.

Y/n groans, squinting her eyes open at the sudden movement of her bed shaking wildly.

Savannah’s pulling the stranger out of Y/n’s bed, her merciless hands continuously pushing him out the bedroom door. He’s half awake, his slumberous daze making him scramble as he attempts to throw his clothes back on.

“Fuckin’ Jesus” the unknown man grumbles, his eyes still half closed from the immense amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night.

Savannah remains relentless, despite his attempt to get fully dressed. He even falls at one point, when he hops on one foot to get his leg through his jeans, but she doesn’t stop for a second.

You, get out of here!” she demands, her hand giving him one last shove out the door before she slams it shut.

Y/n groans again, her sensitivity to anything other than complete darkness and silence making her throw the duvets over her head and bury her face in her pillow. She’s well aware that she has to embrace the very few seconds she has of total peace and quiet before Savannah begins to lecture her for the irresponsibility she just walked into.

She’s only able to reunite with darkness for a split second before Savannah pulls the covers completely off of her, bringing her back into the horrifying sunlight.

Y/n falls off the bed, letting out a groan as her still slightly intoxicated body makes contact with the wooden floor. Her hungover state is making it nearly impossible to figure out the chaos unraveling in the room; all she can really understand is the pounding in her head and the burning in her eyes every time she exposes them from their lids.

She rolls over onto her back, huffing as her fingers dig into her eyelids. She coughs, her abrupt movements making her stomach flip with every turn she makes. She’s given no time to recover before Savannah rips her arms away from her face, gripping onto her wrists as she pulls Y/n off of the floor.

“What the fuck is going on here, Y/n?!” Savannah yells, eyes glaring at Y/n’s very, very hungover stance.

Y/n nearly trips over her own two feet as she attempts to balance herself after Savannah harshly pulled her up from her collapsed figure. If she had the capability to answer back, she would have, but she’s still fucked up from last night and can barely stomach the sunlight seeping in from the curtains.

“Is this what you’ve been up to?!” Savannah spits, angry laughter tying into her words, “Is this the kind of shit you’ve been doing while cutting everyone off?! Sleeping with random guys?!”

The last thing Savannah expected to see was Y/n in bed with a half-naked man and empty bottles of alcohol scattered across her bedroom floor. It was extremely rare for Y/n to carelessly consume alcohol and have consistent one night stands. Savannah’s witnessed her go through these phases only a handful of times throughout their friendship, all of which stemmed from Y/n’s toxic intolerance of being alone.

She should have seen this coming, though. After finding out she’s been in a relationship with someone Y/n was in love with, the first thing she should have done was check up on her. But there was so much fear holding her back, so much guilt preventing her from confronting her about it.

She wouldn’t know exactly what to say, or how to say it, without making it sound like she was the shittiest friend in the world. She had a feeling Y/n had feelings for Harry, considering she had mentioned him a plethora of times once she met him.

And Savannah still took it upon herself to date Harry, for her own selfish reasons. She never thought that it was the potential reason Y/n was so distant. That thought was the last one in the back of her head, completely throwing her off guard when she found out.

She’s tried to reach out to her multiple times, only to be deliberately ignored and shut down. After a while, she figured all Y/n wanted was space, so she stopped trying for a couple days.

But nothing stopped Harry. He’d spend hours knocking on her front door, on his knees, begging for her to speak to him. He’d call her when he wasn’t near her, because he had driven himself crazy knowing he never told Y/n what he needed to tell her so urgently.

Y/n knew—she knew just how much effort he was putting into seeing her again. She heard him, every day, through her front door, but she never knew what to do. The constant fear that Harry didn’t feel the same way back was all the convincing she needed to never speak to him again.

There’s only so much her heart could break, and she didn’t know how many more times it could before she finally snapped.

Y/n grips her head as she squints her eyes shut, hissing at the throbbing in her head when Savannah’s voice booms throughout the room. The overwhelming migraine taking over Y/n’s head practically forces her to sit on the edge of her bed, the palm of her hands still digging into her eyes.

“Not cutting anyone off,” Y/n mumbles, grumbling when she opens her eyes properly to look at Savannah, “I’m just adjusting.”

It isn’t a lie. Her intention wasn’t to ignore them, not at all. But as time went on, the more her emotions started becoming fragile; one wrong sight would have made her break.

And as stupid as it sounds, having sex was the only time she felt wanted after Harry and Savannah started dating. Even if it was in a drunken state, even if it was just purely for physical pleasure, the hours spent with random men were the only moments she felt purpose.

It was also her biggest distraction. Having one night stands was her emotional outlet, her way of letting out all of her emotions without actually doing so. It sure as hell was better than being alone—anything was.

Savannah sighs, shaking her head softly as she kneels eye level to her. She’d never seen her like this before, so lost and broken. She would have lectured her further if she wanted to because she had every right to smack some sense into her. But after all this time, after all the pain she could only imagine Y/n going through, could she really do that to her? Could she really blame her for doing this to herself?

“Y/n,” she rubs her legs, “I have been the shittiest, most horrible friend to you. I was so selfish and so inconsiderate, and I don’t blame you for not speaking to me these past couple days. But, Y/n, this—” her hands gesture around the horrendous state of her bedroom, “this isn’t adjusting. Having drunk sex isn’t going to rid your feelings for Harry. You’re suppressing your emotions, you’re running away. That’s what you’re doing.”

Y/n’s lips begin to quiver as her eyes well with tears; the first time she’s truly cried since the night she saw Harry at Lexi’s. Savannah feels somewhat relieved when she sees the tears falling from Y/n’s eyes. It isn’t a familiar sight to see, but it shows her that she’s actually accepting what she’s been hiding all along.

“You have to talk to me. I don’t care if you yell at me, Y/n. I don’t care what you do to me, but you have to talk to me. You have to show me something. I can’t be hearing about your feelings from Harry, that’s not fair for anyone.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Y/n whispers, her words breaking beneath cries she so desperately wishes she could stop.

But there’s no going back now. The alcohol is still running in her system and she’s reacting instinctively. There is nothing holding her back, not now.

“How was I supposed to tell him that I was in love with him when I knew he didn’t feel the same way? And how was I supposed to tell you anything about him when I knew this would end up happening anyways?! And what was I supposed to say to the both of you when you both decided to take it upon yourselves to flirt in front of me?!

By now, Y/n’s blood is starting to boil. The words coming out of her mouth are laced with venom, her sudden shift in mood making Savannah swallow thickly. But everything in her is operating a million miles an hour, her words coming out faster than her brain can register. She doesn’t even remember standing up from the bed while she paces around her bedroom, empty bottles rolling around the wooden floor.

“Because no matter what I would have done, it would have ended the same! The way it always does, Savannah! The way it always ends with you getting what I want, even if I want it more—“

“Y/n—"

“Even if I need it! You still get it!”

The harshness in her voice is replaced by violent cries, her words drowned in uncontrollable sobs.

The pain is all over. Everything she’s attempted to numb is now all hitting her at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the hurt she’s been burying is now reaching the surface. She can barely breathe, all of the emotions suffocating her, squeezing against her throat.

Savannah is quick to embrace her shaken body, shushing her as her hands rub up and down her back.

A part of her always knew she was the reason Y/n’s love life was barely existent. Although Y/n never admitted it, she drops hints at it every so often. She did notice how all of Y/n’s high school crushes ended up liking her instead, and did notice how whenever Y/n tried to date, she would barely mention them to her. It was as if she was hiding them from her, completely intimidated that Savannah would take away her only chance at a relationship.

And Savannah can’t shake the horrible feeling she has when Y/n admits all of it to her.

Y/n buries her face in her shoulder, her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She wishes she could hold a grudge against Savannah, but she doesn’t have the heart to blame her for anything that’s happened. Everything is because of Y/n, everything happening is because of her fear of emotions and every bit of her has no one else to blame.

“I need him.” Y/n sobs into her shoulder, her hands tugging at the ends of her shirt for some sort of release.

“I need him so much. And I hate it—I hate that I do so m—much.”

“Oh, Y/n.” Savannah kisses her temple, holding her higher against her.

She knows how much Y/n needs him, and knows now more than ever. She was her happiest when she first met him, she was almost an entirely different person. But now, after everything that’s happened, Savannah has never seen her more of a wreck than she is in this moment.

“Let’s sit you down, you need to breathe.”

Y/n whimpers as she’s placed back on the bed, Savannah reminding her to breathe every couple of seconds. She looks at Y/n with sadness in her eyes, comforting her whenever she needs it most.  

“He needs you, too, you know.” Savannah sighs, shaking her head as she takes Y/n’s fidgeting hands into hers.

“I never noticed it until you distanced yourself from us. He didn’t open up to me the way he should have, never talked to me the way he had with you. When I asked him about it—asked him why he wasn’t communicating with me properly, he always mentioned you.”

Y/n flutters her eyes shut, pursing her lips with the slight possibility that Harry may actually feel the same way towards her. There was always a part of her that fully believed the only reason he’s tried so hard to reach her was because he felt guilty for hurting her so much.

But knowing that there’s a chance in Harry reciprocating feelings gives Y/n an overwhelming sensation she’s ever experienced before. It’s the first time in a while there’s a particular type of warmth in her chest, and she swears she begins to tear up from the bit of happiness she’s been missing.

“He would tell me that you were the only one he truly felt comfortable around. Even confessed you were the only one he’d ever be able to talk to, even if we were in a relationship. He was going absolutely mental.”

Savannah sweeps the pad of her thumb under Y/n’s eye, catching the few extra tears that are overflowing. She smiles weakly at her in reassurance, raking her knotted hair between her fingers.

“No matter how much he claimed to like me, he loved you. He’ll always love you. And even when he was completely oblivious, I know now that, deep down, he was always yours. He was never really mine, no matter how much we all thought differently.”

Y/n nods slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she hears Savannah’s words. It’s the first sense of hope she’s felt in a while, and it almost completely rids the pain. Almost.

“I’m sorry for ruining your relationship, though. I kind of feel like this is all my fault.”

Savannah laughs softly, finding it almost completely unbelievable that Y/n always finds a way to apologize, even when things aren’t her fault.

“Are you serious, Y/n? Nobody, including me, can love that man half as much as you do. I ruined your relationship. You barely had anything to ruin.”

She runs her hands through Y/n’s hair one last time before patting her shoulder, a smirk growing on her face as she stands up from her kneeling position.

“Now, up you go. I believe you have to talk to someone who’s been dying to see you.”


It’s when Y/n is about to walk out of her door, freshly showered with a new change of clothes, ready to face Harry when she realizes she never said it.

She never fully told Harry she loves him, not when he was conscious, at least. She had felt it for so long, it has taken over her for so long, yet she never told him how she felt. It almost makes her wonder if it’s the reason why he’s been trying so hard for her.

He needs to hear her say it.

“It’s not hard.” She mumbles to herself as she unlocks her front door.

“Not hard, I just have to fucking sa—”

“Y/n!” Harry breathes out, springing from his position on the ground up to his feet.

He twitches when he instinctively brings his hand up to reach for her, but he holds himself back. He isn’t quite sure how far he’ll allow her to go, but if it were up to him, every part of her would be against him. Every single part.

She sucks in a breath, not expecting to see him waiting on her doorstep, and certainly not expecting him to seem so relieved to see her.

“H—Harry,” she whispers hesitantly, “what are you—“

“I’m sorry!” He stutters, interrupting her before she has a chance to finish asking her question.

“I know how inappropriate it is of me to just sit on your doorstep so unexpectedly but I knew Savannah was coming and I thought that maybe this would be the only time I’d get to see you and I was going to come in but some guy came running out of here and I didn’t want to get in between your time with Savannah so I just figured I’d wait until you came back out but I wasn’t sure if you ever would so I just figured I'd—“

He stops rambling when he feels Y/n’s hand on his cheek, her eyes looking at him with so much tenderness he swears his heart melts.

“Catch your breath, Harry.” She mumbles, rubbing her thumb along his cheek, “Just take a breath.”

He inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, turning his head so that her hand is against his lips. He kisses her palm softly before she moves it to play with his unbrushed hair.

His eyes flutter shut at her touch, his body almost completely melting into her. He feels his weakest now more than ever, and he’s never been more relieved to be this close to her again.

“Who was he, Y/n?” he whispers.

“The guy, who ran out of here, who was he?“

As much of a coward as it makes him, the thought of her in bed with someone else physically and mentally pains him more so than he’s ever expected. His head swims with thoughts of her naked, trembling, crying as she devotes her love to some other man, and the more he thinks about it, the more sick his stomach feels.

“Have I been trying for nothing? Have I been wasting my time?”

How could you ever doubt my love for you? is the first thought that comes to her. How could you ever question how much I love you?

Instead of saying the words right at the tip of her tongue, her eyes crease inward, slightly shaking her head as she scrapes her fingertips delicately against his scalp.

“I don’t know, Harry.” she whispers honestly, “I don’t know who he is.”

He nods softly, but nothing in her answer reassures him. He knows there is no other explanation for a guy to run out of her house at nine in the morning without a shirt on.

“May I come in? Wanna talk.” He asks tentatively.

“Of course you can.”

Silence falls between them as they both claim spots on opposite sides of the room. 

There’s a tension in the room they both can’t seem to shake, an unaddressed barrier between them making it nearly impossible to find an appropriate way to start a conversation.

Harry’s the first one to break the silence, however, after a few minutes past of each of them refusing to make any eye contact with each other. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

The question caught Y/n’s attention quickly, her head that was once resting in the palm of her hand now up on its own, a small “hm?” parting past her lips.

She’s acting dumb even though she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She just isn’t prepared to answer him, not in the way he wants her to.

“That you’re in love with me. Were you ever going to tell me?”

She shrugs, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tears her gaze away from his. She isn’t used to confrontation, especially when it involves her emotions. It’s one of her weaknesses, but there’s absolutely no way around this one. Even if there was, she wouldn’t have the audacity to take it. He deserves to know—everything this time.

“I told you before.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he looks at her from across the room. No, he may have been oblivious about her feelings in the beginning, but he sure as hell would never have forgotten it if she told him how she felt.

“Bullshit!” He scoffs. “You didn’t tell me shit! We wouldn’t be here right now if you had told me!”

She sighs, her cheek laying right back down in the palm of her hand, almost as if shying away from him.

“Well, it’s just—you were sleeping.”

Harry stands from his place on the couch, face scrunching in aggravation as his hands rub up and down his face.

“You’re kidding me, right? You have to be fucking kidding me right now!”

His fingers harshly grip the roots of his hair before stomping is way towards her. If he doesn’t get any answers out of her, he swears he’ll lose his goddamn mind.

His hands grip the sides of her face, squeezing her jaw between his hands as he looks at her bewildered.

“I need answers, Y/n. I don’t think you understand how many fucking answers I need right now.”

He speaks through clenched teeth and a tightened jaw, frustration boiling in his blood as she gives him the outright most ambiguous and outrageous answers he’s ever heard in his life.

Y/n places her hands on top of his, her fingernails digging gently into his skin. Despite the harshness of his stare, this is the first time she’s seen him in weeks, and she still finds him to be the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

“It was the night after I drove you back from Lexi’s, when you and Savannah were kind of going through that rough patch.”

He falls to his knees in between her legs, an almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips from the memories of that night. Because although Savannah had left him by himself, he had a night with Y/n that changed him forever.

"You fell asleep on me, after you told me you were still going to fight for her. That was probably one of the worst things you could have said to me, but you didn’t know, and I was angry at myself for not telling you sooner. I didn’t know how else to tell you unless you were—you were sleeping.”

His hand reaches up to her lips, his thumb tracing along the outlines of her mouth once she’s done speaking. No matter how much she confuses him, and no matter how fucking angry she makes him, he wouldn’t want to be staring at anybody else right now.

“I loved you then, too” he whispers, “I didn’t know it. I didn’t know anything until you left me. I knew you meant everything to me, I knew you were the only one I trusted so deeply. But the second I lost you, I felt empty.”

He presses his forehead against her collar bones, her heart beating quickly against his neck. She sighs, her fingers intertwining with his against her lap as her hips slide more towards the edge, her knees supporting the sides of his chest.

“Didn’t matter that I had Savannah. She was lovely, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t you. I tried so hard to make myself believe I was just missing you as a friend, but there was nothing that convinced me.”

His tearful eyes looked into hers, both chuckling slightly at their current state. They’re both crying, both their hearts racing in their chests. If someone were to tell them now that there’s a feeling even remotely close to how beautiful they feel now, together, they wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

Y/n wipes away the loose tears on his cheeks while she sniffles, giggling softly at how stupid they probably look.

“I’ve always loved you, Harry,” she whispers, “there’ll never be a time that I stop. No matter how hard I try, my love for you is stronger.”

It’s when the words fall from her lips that Harry realizes all he needed was for her to hear her say it. Her voice is so sweet as she says it, too, and her eyes leave no trace out doubt when she looks into him.

He tries to hold back the irresistible urge to kiss her, but it’s completely impossible. His lips press feverishly against hers, both of them releasing moans at just how right it feels to be kissing one another. Their kiss isn’t the slightest bit romantic. It’s harsh, it’s desperate, it’s messy but it’s just what they need.

Harry crawls on top of her, his hands on every part of her they can touch. He groans when he feels her nails scratch down his back, leaving her giggling underneath him.

“Mine.” He growls, his thumb putting pressure right underneath her chin.

He admires her face, the glorious look of her swollen lips, wet eyes, and pink cheeks. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. A soft whimper leaves her lips, craving nothing more than to feel his lips against hers again.

“These lips are mine. All of you—all of you is mine. No other fucking wanker gets you the way I do.”

She smirks, her eyes half-lidded.

“‘m not allowed to sleep with random guys but you’re allowed to fuck my best friend?”

He presses his lips against her again, his hands brushing loose strands of hair away from her face as he does so.

“Never fucked her,” He mumbles against her lips, “couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Y/n rolls over so that she’s on top of Harry, her legs on either side of his waist as her hands roam his chest through his t-shirt. He looks priceless like this, weak and breathless underneath her as her hands grip the sides of his face.

“The prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”

He blushes, his bottom lip in between his teeth as he sends her the biggest grin she’s ever seen on him. His eyes are full of love, too, and Y/n swears every breath she had the chance to take has been knocked right out of her.

“Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Y/n. Nobody.

2

She walked up to Nico, who was standing to one side in the shadows, as usual. She grabbed his hand and pulled him gently into the firelight. “We had one home,” she said. “Now we have two.” She gave Nico a big hug and the crowd roared with approval. For once, Nico didn’t feel like pulling away. He buried his face in Reyna’s shoulder and blinked the tears out of his eyes.

Double Team

Title: Double Team

Summary: Sam and Dean get rough when they double team you in the shower. Inspired by this imagine (x).

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Sam Winchester x female reader x Dean Winchester (no Wincest)

Word Count:  1883

Warnings:  nsfw, threesome, explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering,

Author’s Notes:  Thank you @mamapeterson for the advice and being my always awesome beta. I wrote this because my brain needed a break from the plot driven piece I’m working on, so I hope you guys enjoy some gratuitous smut. Let’s just put it out there that this is going to be one seriously cold shower by they time they’re done, I know that. Suspend your disbelief and pretend it’s a never ending hot shower. :-)

Keep reading

Webs || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,331 words

Request from @bbparker : Hey could you please do an imagine with Peter Parker where your cat (or your dog aha) runs away and you’re upset over it but Spider-Man brings it back (because you’re obvs friends with Peter) for you and the whole cheesy Spider-Man kiss happens? Thanks very much! :) (Also my @ is BBParker but my tumbles being a bitch aha so could you pls tag?)

No spoilers, fam. I didn’t edit it I’m sorry

Originally posted by fyeahmarvel

Y/N strolled through her neighborhood with her new dog on his leash. As an early birthday gift, her family got her a new dog. She hadn’t decided on a name for the dog, but she thought it would be nice to take the pooch on his first walk around the neighborhood. The dog had been pulling on the leash hard for a while, but Y/N just thought he was excited. The dog suddenly got out of his collar and starting bolting down the street.

“Come back!” She shouted, running after the small creature, but he was too fast for her. Y/N stopped, resting against a lamp post while trying to regain her breath as she watched the dog flee from her sight. “Come back,” she whispered breathlessly, hoping the dog would miraculously stop, and run back to her.

Y/N slumped her shoulders, tears starting to build up in her eyes. She dragged her body back to her house. She saw her front door quickly approaching. What would she tell her family,she thought. Yeah, the new dog you just got me escaped from the collar cause it wasn’t tight enough, and ran away.

She opened the door solemnly and rushed to her room trying to avoid any confrontation. She jumped onto her bed, putting her head in her hands. The poor dog was probably all scared and alone. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop her tears. Y/N grabbed her phone from her pocket, wanting to vent to her best friend, Peter.

Y/N has had a crush on Peter since as long as she’s known him. She always thought that he was such a great person, who deserved the entire world. When he told her about the Stark Internship and going to Germany to fight Captain America as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man she was shocked. She wouldn’t have ever thought that the man, or as she realized boy, swinging around the city was her best friend.

Peter also had a crush on her, he just never voiced his thoughts. If she didn’t like him once he told her, that would’ve ruined there entire friendship. Peter would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all. Telling her that he was Spider-Man was the first step to confessing his feelings because that meant he trusted her enough. One day he was going to tell her how he felt, one day. 

Hey Pete. She typed quickly on her phone.

Hola, Y/N. What’s up?

Y/N sighed, thank god he wasn’t busy.

Can I call you? She texted back, biting her lip. He didn’t reply, instead his contact name appeared on her screen with a green and red button. She pressed the green one, letting out a sigh. She press her phone to her ear.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” He asked in a worried tone. She heard shuffling through the phone.

“I lost my dog.” She sniffled, trying to sound somewhat normal. The shuffling in the background stopped, “You don’t have a dog.” He said slowly, not wanting to provoke his friend in any way.

“I just got him today as an early birthday gift. Look, I’ll text you a picture of him. If you see him while your fighting crime, can you like, get him. I don’t know what to do.” She said sadly, shaking her head.

“Of course,” he replied but paused, causing more shuffling, “Look, I gotta go.The whole superhero thing. I’ll talk to you later alright?” He stated, his voice now slightly muffled. Y/N raised an eyebrow but ignored the situation. “Alright, bye.” Peter ended the call, not replying.

It had been an hour since her dog escaped her grasp. She decided to go out looking for him again, hopping for the best.It was starting to get dark outside but Y/N wanted to make sure that the poor animal was okay. So she put her shoes back on and grabbed the leash, with the collar still attached, leaving the house.

She looked around a few blocks but sadly, came up empty handed. Y/N was ready to give up when she heard barking coming from the alleyway. “Just my luck, the scariest alley on the block.” She mumbled to herself, walking into the dark abyss.

“Hey, puppy, where are you?” Y/N said softly as if she was talking to a baby. She heard barking coming from above her. The dog was on the fire escape to one of the buildings. “What the fu-” Before she could answer,she heard footsteps behind her. Terrified, she slowly turned around.

Y/N was met with the red and blue tights of Spider-Man. The man stood, waving a hand towards her, “Hey, Y/N.” He said slightly confused.

“Oh thank god,” She said letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding while placing her hand on her chest, “I thought it was someone that was going to kill me.” She let out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you still out here, looking for your dog?” He asked crossing his arms. Y/N brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck.

“I found him actually. But he somehow managed to get stuck on the fire escape.” She stated, pointing to the adorable dog above her.

“Well,” Peter started dramatically, “I think I can help.” He cockily said, shooting his webs toward the dog’s direction. Spider-Man was hanging from his webs from a staircase that was above the dog. He spun himself upside down, now facing the panting dog. “Hey there little buddy.” He said, grabbing the dog with one hand, holding the web with the other.

He slide down the web, right in front of Y/N, handing her the dog. She grabbed the dog, “Awe, you’re okay.” She said, petting the dog, putting him down. She took the leash that she was holding, now putting it on the dog securely.Y/N stood up, holding the leash tightly in one hand, giving him a slight closed lip smile. She reached her hands up, right under the opening of his mask. She pulled it down, just under his nose. It’s now or never. She thought to herself

She leaned in, closing her eyes. Peter closed his eyes as well, not knowing what else to do. She put one hand on his masked cheek. She placed her lips upon his, in a short yet sweet passionate kiss. Y/N pulled away, opening her eyes slowly, with a smile on her face. “Thank you Peter.” Y/N beamed, walking out of the alley with her dog beside her.

Peter stayed where he was on his webs, unable to move from what just happened. He jumped down from his position, standing on the ground with his jaw slacked. He then smiled widely, pulling his mask down and swinging away.

Y/N slammed her from door shut, taking the leash off of the dog. She was so happy that she had found the dog and even happier that she saw Spider-Man. Kissed him even. She smiled, running to her room, giggling. 

A few weeks later, Peter decided to ask her out. She obviously said yes. The two where hanging out at Y/N house in her room. They heard footsteps coming towards her room, which turned out to be her dog. The dog walked up to Peter sniffing him, before starting to lick the teenage boy. The act made Peter laugh and pet the dog’s soft head.

“What did you name him?” Peter asked, turning to Y/N while still petting the dog. Y/N chuckled, “Umm, I named him Webs.”

His eyes widened, with a small smile evident on his face, “You didn’t.”

“I had to,” She said shrugging your shoulders, “You’re his savior after all.”

pitviperofdoom  asked:

Hey so I've loved your Retold Fairytales for some time but I just binged your entire Gods and Monsters and I??? love Styx. A lot. And I'm curious about Hephaestus and Styx growing up as best friends in the Underworld. If you could work your magic when you have the time, I'd love to see a story about them!

Styx does not have a home in the underworld, not really. She has a room in Hades’s palace, of course, and a nook in Hecate’s house.  Charon has a cottage by her river, a humble thing for a being of such great power, and she’s shoved her way onto his narrow bed and curled into the warmth of his chest more than once. She darts through the horrors of Tartarus, and plays in the Elysium Fields.

All of the underworld is open to her, and she’s lived here the entirety of her existence. But she’s yet to find a piece of it that feels as if it belongs to her, that doesn’t feel borrowed.

~

Hecate brings home a baby with no legs beneath the knee and wide, curious eyes.

Styx adores him instantly.

Hecate is a busy woman – her duties in the underworld keep her constantly moving, and she spends much of her time shrouded in her secrets. She is the goddess of magic, and there are things that only she can do, things that other people can’t even know about. She is not a person with much time to spare, and babies take a lot of time.

Hades watches him often, directing the traffic of souls and overseeing construction with the child held to his chest. Charon fashions a sling, and the baby sleeps against his back while Charon ferries souls across her river.

Time passes. The baby is not like her.

The baby grows.

~

Hephaestus is a child, and he lives in a dangerous place. His aunt raises him, and she is a busy woman who does important things, and it seems to him like nothing in their home is safe to touch, that it is all cursed or corrosive or even, at time, sentient.

The palace is not much better. Hades always welcomes him, has a warm smile for him, but is too busy to linger. He walks on wobbly legs of glass that Aunt Hecate fashioned for him, and they allow him to walk, but they pain him too. He cannot run or jump, he cannot explore the edges of the underworld like he so desperately wants to because his legs are delicate, clumsy things. They are glass, and they shatter too easily.

“Don’t be sad,” a voice says in his ear, and he’s grinning before he even turns around. Lady Styx is there, smiling at him. She looks to be his age, although she is much older, and she has black skin and grey hair and eyes. Her skin is the color of her river’s water, and her hair and eyes the color of the foam when it rushes too fast. For as long as he can remember, she has always had kindness to spare.

“I’m not sad,” he says stubbornly. “Aren’t you busy?” She is a goddess, one as powerful and important as his aunt or Hades. He wants to grow up to be just like her.

She shrugs, “My river knows what to do. Do you want to go on an adventure?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. The only time he’s allowed to explore is when Styx is with him. If his glass legs break, she can carry him, and if anything tries to attack or hurt them, she can stop it.

She grabs his hand, smiling. It’s cold. She’s always cold, the same icy temperature as her river. “There are volcanos in Tartarus. Have I taken you there before?”

He shakes his head, and in the next instant they’re gone.

~

Styx and Hephaestus manage to get in all manner of trouble, including, but not limited to: accidentally giving Cerberus two extra heads, devising and implementing a manner of torture for Tantalus that is so brilliant Hades can’t even get mad at them for it, and figuring out it is possible to surf of Styx’s rough waters with glass legs, but only if you’re very, very stupid and have the goddess in question by your side and laughing so hard she forgets that her primary job here is to prevent you from dying.

When he’d found them, Hades had given them the worst admonishment he knew how to give: a disappointed frown. Hecate had laughed and told them to be careful of his legs.

Hephaestus’s childhood had its bright spots. Almost all of those bright spots included Styx.

~

Hephaestus looks older than her now, a young man when she is, as always, a child. He’s gotten quieter as he ages, his dark eyes permanently thoughtful.

“You shouldn’t come here without me,” she scolds, sitting down beside him. He doesn’t respond, swinging his hammer down on glowing metal with a boom loud enough that the volcano shakes with it. “You know Hecate doesn’t like you going into Tartarus alone.”

“You were busy,” he says, not accusatory, just a statement of fact. “Here, cool this for me.”

She sighs, but cool water rushes from her hands and onto the superheated metal. It hisses and steams, but when the air clears Hephaestus holds it up and appears to be satisfied. “Must it be in a volcano? We can make you a forge in safer part of the underworld.”

“Volcanos are useful,” he says, the same answer he always gives her. “I have more of these to do if you want to stick around.”

Helping him build whatever he’s currently working on is pretty boring. But he’s her friend, and it must be important if he’s risking his life by going into Tartarus on his glass legs to do it. “Sure,” she sighs slumping down to sit crosslegged next to him. He pats her on the head, which she’s all prepared to be insulted by - she’s a kid, but she’s not a kid – when she sees his lips curled up around the corners of his mouth. He’s making fun of her on purpose, which is still annoying, but is less hurtful than him treating her like a kid just because he looks older.

~

The first set of legs that Hephaestus makes for himself are made of iron. They’re not as pretty as he’d like them to be, but that’s all right. He can run in these legs, jump in them, fight in them. He is no longer a being made of glass, no longer someone who can be easily broken.

Styx is the first person he shows them to. He leaps and somersaults in them, something he could never do before. She’s delighted at first, smiling and clapping, but by the time he finishes, arms out-thrown and beaming, she’s wilted. She sits hunched and tries to keep her smile in place, but it’s trembling.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling in front of her. “I thought you would be happy for me.”

“I am!” she hiccups, and now she’s crying, big fat tears that he wants to wipe away but can’t. She cries the water of her river. If he touches them, he’ll burn. “I am happy!’

He risks it, tugging the end of his sleeve down to quickly wipe her left cheek, then ripping it and throwing the cloth away as it burns. “You don’t look happy.”

“You’re going to leave,” she says, and he goes cold. “You have legs, and now you’re going to leave, and I’m not. I am the Goddess of the River Styx, I must stay with my river. But you’re going to leave.”

His heart breaks seeing Styx cry. He loves Hecate, loves Charon, loves Hades. But if there is one person in this realm he can truly call family, it is her. They share no blood, but she’s the only sister he’s ever known. “I’ll visit! You can visit me too. I wasn’t born here, Styx. Hecate isn’t my mom. I was born on Olympus, and I can’t hide in the underworld from Hera forever. I don’t want to either.”

“I know!” she says, her breath coming in stuttering gasps as she tries and fails to stop crying. “You’re so smart, and all the things you make are amazing. You need to go out there, so other gods can see you, so that people can see you. I just – I’m going to miss you.”

He’s a god – a little river water won’t kill him. He pulls Styx into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as her tears burn through his skin. She resists for a moment, then goes slack, throwing her arms around his neck. He says, “I’m going to miss you too.”

~

Hephaestus does not want to cause an uproar. He’s had fantasies of storming Mount Olympus, of confronting Hera, of doing any number of foolish, stupid things. But he is not a foolish, stupid man.

Hecate has picked out a volcano for him already, one she tells fits all his requirements and is not in the domain of any other god, even the lesser ones. He will go slow. He will build, and improve the lives of the mortals. Temples will be erected in his honor, tributes placed at his feet, his name on all their lips. He’ll build his power the hard way, until they can ignore him no longer, until Hera and Zeus have no choice but to offer him a place at their table on Olympus.

But not yet.

For now, he builds something else, something even more important.

~

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Styx asks, pouting.

Hephaestus’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing her forward. “No.”

She scowls. She can tell they’re by her river, in a bend where no one travels through, but that’s it. Her knowledge of the geography of the underworld is always in relation to her river. “What about now?”

“Yes,” he says.

She wasn’t expecting it, so it takes her a moment to blink her eyes open. “Did you make this?”

“Hecate helped,” he admits, “I wasn’t sure what to do for things like curtains and windchimes. Do you like it?”

It’s a house. A small one, not much bigger than Charon’s. It’s made of obsidian, but not several pieces put together. It looks like the whole things was carved out of one massive piece of obsidian. The walls are black and smooth and shining. There’s a large, round bed in the center that’s a pale blue, the chairs in a deep purple, and her curtains are a soft yellow. The house is black, but Hephaestus has filled it with color, given her a rainbow tucked in every space. Copper pots hang in the kitchen, and there are signs of his forging everywhere – in the cabinets, the door knobs in the shape of flowers, the singular windchime hanging in her open window, even though there is no wind here.

“Do you like it?” he repeats. “I know you tend to just – end up wherever, but I thought you should have a place that was just yours. If you want something different I can change it–”

“No.” She swallows and touches her wall, the silver design in her walls that he must have inlaid himself. “It – it’s perfect.” Quieter then, “You gave me a home.”

No place in the whole of the underworld has ever felt like it belonged to her. This one does. It doesn’t feel borrowed.

Hephaestus ruffles her hair, “It seems only fair, since you did the same for me. This realm wouldn’t have been my home without you.”

They’re smiling at each other, and the tension she’d been carrying ever since she realized Hephaestus would be leaving drains out of her.

He’s older now, almost an adult, and he’s leaving the underworld. But he’s not leaving her.

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, in case he’s forgotten.

“Good,” he tells her, “because you’re my best friend too.”


gods and monsters series, part xxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

“Oh my god- Cas!“ Those are Sam’s words and they struck Dean right in the chest as he stands, hand clasping the door of the Impala in a moodily lit alley way. His giant of a brother stumbles forward and crashes into him in that stupid fucking telephone booth.

Those blue eyes soften immediately and Cas’ face disappears behind Sam’s massive shoulder, only black tufts peak into vision and Dean counts the strands in it. Are they the same number? The same color?
Sam’s shaggy head is moving up and down, he’s talking to Cas but Dean only catches murmurs.

When they step apart, they both look at him and Sam is furiously wiping at his face, his grin big enough to replace the sun and his hand holding onto Cas’ shoulder.

“It’s a miracle,” he says and shakes Cas.

Dean hears himself say, “There are no miracles.”

Sam’s face dims. He opens his mouth but Cas makes a step forward and Sam is thrown into the abyss of Dean’s peripheral vision.

“De-“

“How?” He can’t hear it, he can’t hear Cas say his name. If this even is Cas.

Cas’ hands slide into his long sleeves, making him look like child in adult clothes. “- I- I don’t know, but I’m here. I died and now I’m back.”

“It’s not like that never happened before, Dean,” Sam jumps in. “Maybe, Chuck-“

“Chuck said he wasn’t going to mix into our business anymore!” Dean growls. “I need to know how, Cas!”

“I can’t. I was in this space with a voice- I don’t know, Dean,” he looks desperate and he said. He said it!

Dean has to look away, doubles over, his stomach is like a rock and there is no breath in his lungs, “Fuck!” he says, unable to sort himself out. He runs his hands through his hair. Is this real?

“Dean, I’m so sorry, I wanted a win for you and again I-“

“Shut up.”

“Please, let me-“

“Fuck, Cas, you died!” Dean throws at him. “Weeks have passed and I- You were gone. Mom is still gone. And now you show up, in a fucking phone booth in some fucked up town in Michigan? What the actual fuck.”

“I’m sorry, if I caused trouble for-“

“Trouble?” Dean interrupts him. “Five hours ago I told Death to take me for good! Five hours ago I asked to be and stay dead.”

There is a silence. Cas watches him, eyes wide and wet. Sam is off to the side, avoiding to look at them for some reason. But Dean knows, can see that he, too, is crying.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas is moving, pries Dean away from the Impala door and hugs him, arms slipping around Dean’s waist, beneath the jacket. Dean feels his hands, warm and solid, placed on his back and he can smell Cas’ hair that’s tickling his cheek. It smells like you’d smell after walking around the woods for hours: slightly sweaty, but like the trees and a strong wind.

“You were gone,” Dean whispers.

“But I’m back,” Cas mumbles and his lips are brushing Dean’s neck.

Dean presses his eyes shut and even though Cas is already slung around him. He stumbles forward and wraps one arm around Cas’ back and the other one’s hand slips into the black mess of a hair, pressing Cas as close as possible.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean has a hard time to articulate words right, “You fucking heartless dick of an angel, I can’t fucking believe- Fuck, Cas. Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Cas whispers into Dean’s shoulder. There are tears running into the collar of Dean’s shirt. “I’m sorry about Mary.”

The empty space in Dean aches and he clutches Cas’s hair to make it stop.

It’s okay, Yeah whatever, I’m so glad you are back, Don’t hurt me like that, Just let us have this moment, but Dean ends up saying, “We might get her back.” Then a chuckle breaks through him and he leans back, so he can look in Cas’ eyes.

“It’s a day for miracles after all.”

Caring || myg

TRICK

Pairing: SUGA X READER

Summary: Yoongi couldn’t possibly be your guardian angel, but who keeps leaving the cough medicene on your desk?

Genre: fluff, guardian angel! au

Length: 1.5k

A/N: he would be such a cute angel, the perfect mix of caring by seemingly uncaring.

Originally posted by seokjins-wings

“Y/N, you won’t believe what was on your desk again this morning,” you looked at Taehyung who was grinning, and as you sat down, raising an eyebrow at him and opening your palm expectantly, “you’re no fun,” he whined before placing a box in your hands.

You didn’t bother looking at Taehyung again, inspecting the box in your hands. You had been suffering from a cold that left you sniffling and sneezing in all your lessons, and resting in your hand was a box of high-quality cough medicine.

The first time the medication had been left on your table you assumed it was someone from your class that had gotten tired of your constant sniffing and Taehyung had burst into laughter before he wondered how irritated they must have been to spend so much money.

Then the second day you both found it a little less funny, and the third-day Taehyung had come to the conclusion that it was a secret admirer or your guardian angel.; although he had been quick to point out someone your age would never have a guardian angel.

Keep reading

3

@camphalfbloodnetwork​: quest 3: fav brotp/friendship {nico and reyna}
get to know the members: flora

We had one home,’ she said. ‘Now we have two.’ She gave Nico a big hug and the crowd roared with approval. For once, Nico didn’t feel like pulling away. He buried his face in Reyna’s shoulder and blinked the tears out of his eyes.”  (x) (x)

Genius Lance Pt. 2

After a long, painful writing session, I bring you part two! I hope everyone enjoys as much as the first part! <3           


“Blue Paladin!” Kolivan called looking to each side when he left the bridge. Lance looked behind him with a slight wince, but at noticing that it was Kolivan relaxed a bit.

“Sorry about all of that big guy,” he said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“We must talk Blue Paladin,” he stated, walking towards the boy.

“Oh, um, okay,” he started. “Is the lounge okay?” he asked.

“Wherever you are comfortable,” Kolivan replied putting his hand on Lance’s back. Lance nodded his head and started leading him to the room. They sat down on the couch and Lance looked down at the ground waiting for Kolivan to start. He expected the leader of the Blade to berate him for storming out of the room and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his hand settle on his upper arm. He turned to look at the galra, unlike usual, he had a soft open expression on his face.

“Please explain to me Blue Paladin, why does this upset you so much?” he asked calmly.

“You can call me Lance you know,” Lance muttered moving his gaze to the other side of the room.

“Lance then; I’m afraid I don’t understand much of what happened on the bridge, would you please explain to me? If you don’t mind,” Kolivan asked. Lance took a deep breath and nodded his head in understanding.

“Basically they were making fun of me, calling me stupid, saying that I didn’t understand anything they were talking about,” he said bitterly. He clenched his fists up on top of his knees glaring at the floor.

“But that isn’t true,” Kolivan finished for him. He nodded and closed his eyes against the rage that was building in him again. Just as quickly as it built, it fell and sadness grasped him instead.

“No it isn’t, in fact, it’s the exact opposite,” he said looking into Kolivan’s eyes. “Where I’m from, I’m considered a genius,”

“Is that so?” Kolivan drawled giving the young man a calm smile. Lance gave a small nod and looked forward.

“Yup,” he said popping the p at the end. “In Varadero, I was top of the class and ready to join the military there just like the rest of my family, but then the Galaxy Garrison found out about me and my skills as a tactician and programmer. They offered me a full ride scholarship and me and my family citizenship if I accepted, I mean how could I even think about refusing? I mean I don’t know how citizenship works in space, but I must have been somewhat important if they offered it to me,”
He couldn’t stay still anymore and leaped off the couch to pace in front of Kolivan who sat quietly to listen to the upset paladin. His face scrunched up a bit in confusion when Lance mentioned citizenship, but decided not to ask questions yet.

“So that’s what we did, I accepted the offer and started learning English which isn’t fucking easy. But that’s okay because we made it, and I had my family with me too which is something a lot of people can’t say,” he paused to take in a shaky breath and pushed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. He stood stiffly, letting himself take a few breaths before he continued.

“So the Garrison!” He cheered trying to perk himself up. “They offered to give me all of these things and in exchange, all I had to do was get a spaceship to Kerberos,” Kolivan quirked his eyebrow at the statement. “I know, easy right,” he said sarcastically.

“I thought the Green Paladin said that the mission that brought the Black Paladin here was the most advanced your planet has been with space exploration,” he said. Lance puffed up his chest and gave a smug little smile at the statement.

“Of course it was, that was why I was so important,” he started only to slump a moment after. “Well, I didn’t do it alone, of course, so I guess I’m not that important; never mind, we’re getting off topic,” he shook his head as if trying to dislodge the distracting thought.

“It is correct to assume that this Kerberos mission is important though?” Kolivan asked. Lance’s head whipped around to look at him with his mouth gaping.

“Yes! Its basically the only reason why I was at the Garrison in the first place, as I said before I was just going to join the military in Cuba with my family but this opportunity was to die for,” he stated, squeezing his eyes shut. He thought of the opportunities that opened up to them when they moved and sighed.

“Anyways, we went to America and next thing I know I’m at orientation for classes and I was going to just join the generic fields engineering, computer science, meteorology you know; but that morning before I went to go, my mamá sat me down and told me to find something that I would grow to love and I would never grow tired of. I was kind of confused because at this point I was so sure of my path, that I already had my class sheet filled up and ready to hand in at the end of the tour,” he thought of his mamá and the smile she gave him before he walked out that door. Looking like she already knew that he was going to have a great day.

“She was so adamant about it and I didn’t know why, I already knew what I liked and I was going to gain the key to my future as well, I thought she was crazy,” he admitted shaking his head and dropping to sit next to Kolivan again. He was about to open his mouth to comment but stopped when he saw the easy smile stretched across his face as he got lost in memory.

“That is until we visited the flight simulators; they walked us in and it was just the pod and blank space and suddenly it just got pitch black, we were all freaking out. But then, there was this big flash and there were stars everywhere and planets, galaxies and meteorites, just everything and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life,” he gave a breathless chuckle as he looked at Kolivan. “Then the sim started and I was just mesmerized; whoever was in that booth was dominating the front lines, no one could get close to them and I must have stood there for twenty doboshes with my mouth hanging open, watching them. But then, they turned off the sim so we could meet the pilot and ask questions about the classes and stuff; and after a few minutes out pops Shiro,”

“I didn’t realize that you met the Black Paladin so soon,” Kolivan commented. Instantly Lance shook his head and waved his hands around frantically.

“Met is a loose term! A very very loose term, I didn’t even speak to Shiro until we saved him in the desert before coming to space,” he said flustered. Kolivan only nodded his head and looked forward.

“I see,” he said coaxing Lance to continue his story.

“Well, anyways, Shiro got out to do a little talk about the classes, what a pilot in the Garrison does, and all about the missions he had already been on; and when he talked about piloting I could see in his eyes how much he loved it, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to fly and when I decided that Takashi Shirogane was my hero,” he admitted quietly rubbing the back of his neck. “I was right, I did love it, it was the one thing in my life so far that was actually difficult for me to learn, and I wasn’t good at it. I-I knew that I wasn’t but it didn’t matter because I loved it so much, it made me feel human sometimes,” His face was glowing with happiness, but as soon as it appeared it was gone again and the boy was looking dejectedly at the ground.

“I don’t know when Pidge and Hunk started thinking that I was stupid,” he said curling into himself. “I wasn’t around much during the first while of the Garrison, whatever free time I had I spent it with the other scientists working on the Kerberos mission. I guess it started when I used sneaking off into town as an excuse when they asked why I was gone for so long,” he let out a humourless laugh and felt his throat tighten. “Now that I think of it, it does sound like something an idiot would say,” Kolivan could see the paladin slowly breaking down beside him and scooted closer to offer some sort of comfort to the boy.

“Keith I understand, he hates me,” he muttered trying to blink away the tears that were forming in his eyes. “All he’s seen from me so far has been an empty-headed flirting mess,” He clenched his jaw tightly, he didn’t want to cry about this, and it was a dumb reason to. He curled his arms around himself and lifted his legs onto the couch.

“But Shiro, I thought he saw more to me than the others did, and it hurts but I guess I deserve it after getting him and his crew stuck in space,” he choked finally letting himself sink into the pain. Kolivan let out a quiet rumble and pulled the boy to his chest to rest underneath his chin. After a moment’s hesitation, Lance gripped onto Kolivan’s suit tightly and let out a sad wail. The galra continued to rub his back and let out comforting noises.

“It was okay at the Garrison because I had my family to talk to and they knew, but out here they all thought I was some clueless idiot,” he whispered to Kolivan listlessly. “I’m nothing without my brain, so what was I even worth to them?” Kolivan closed his eyes and cupped the back of Lance’s head to cuddle him closer.

“Lance, you are worth much more than you realize,” he said softly. “You are an exceptional pilot, a glorious marksman, and now we realize you are a genius. Your teammates are the ones that assumed you to be something you’re not, now they have to face the consequences of their actions, not you,”

Lance didn’t answer and only nodded his head from where it rested on Kolivan’s chest.


The team turned to the doors when they heard them hiss open. Kolivan’s face was blank but he had his hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance smiled up at the galra and walked to his friends who immediately started apologizing.

“I’m so sorry Lance!” Hunk cried grabbing him by the shoulders and sniffing as tears poured down his face.

“I’m sorry too!” Pidge joined latching onto Lance’s legs when Hunk lifted him in a hug. Lance gave them a weak smile and patted Hunk gently on the arm when he started sobbing into his shirt.

“It’s okay guys, I forgive you,” he replied. “Can you please let me down now?” he asked kicking his feet around.

“Sorry!” Hunk wailed as he placed his feet on the floor. He wiped his eyes and nose and looked guilty down at the ground as Keith walked up to Lance.

“I’m sorry Lance,” he said sincerely. “You’re right, I’m a condescending jerk sometimes and I let it get out of hand,” he shifted from foot to foot and avoid looking at him. Lance let out a huff of laughter that made Keith’s head shoot up.

“I forgive you,” he said punching him lightly in the shoulder. Keith gave him a hesitant smile and stepped back when Shiro came forward. He had a sad frown on his face and his eyebrows were wrinkled in guilt.

“I failed you as a leader and as a friend Lance, I should have paid more attention to my teammates, I am so so sorry,” he said weakly, guilt evident in his voice. He tried to keep his eyes on Lance’s face but slowly found himself looking to the floor instead. He looked back up when he felt a hand on his shoulder and found Lance giving him a soft smile.

“We all have something we could work on, that doesn’t mean you failed us as a leader Shiro, I forgive you,” Shiro let out a breath of relief and put his hands on his knees.

“Shiro?” Lance’s voice asked hesitantly. He stood up and looked at the paladin.

“Yeah?”

“I know it wasn’t really my fault but I need to get it out, so I’m sorry I got you captured on Kerberos,” he announced. Shiro’s face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at Lance.

“Huh? But you didn’t have anything to do with Kerberos,” he said cocking his head. Lance twiddled his thumbs absentmindedly and scuffed his shoe on the ground.

“Actually, I planned the entire voyage and programmed the ship,” he admitted not looking up from where he was looking. There was a beat of silence before they let out various sounds of disbelief, Pidge grabbed him by the shoulders and madly shook him screaming.

“I never noticed your name in the reports,” Shiro said thinking back, trying to pick out names from the papers.

“Oh, I had the codename Cub,” he said. At that Pidge’s arms and mouth dropped in shock.

“You’re Cub?” She asked, he nodded and gave her a smile. “Oh my god, you’re the best hacker I’ve ever seen, I based all of my codes off of yours,” she admitted, still in shock.

“Wow, thanks!” He said scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“How the hell do you manage to pull this off?” Keith asked astonished. Lance looked around at his amazed teammate. They may not be the most perfect people in the world, but they were family to him. He put his hands on his hips and gave them a grin.

“Would you like to hear the whole story?”


Part 1