sobs for eternity in a corner

So much to appreciate in these panels; all the dragon slayers being rushed by their loved ones, THAT GAJEVY/GALE HUG, the most perfect Nalu moment to date, Natsu with that special grin he only gives when he’s with Lucy, the list goes on!

You can really feel Hiro Mashima speaking to us as he’s getting ready to close the book on a beloved story. I know i’m going to be a absolute wreck once it’s all over, but at least we’re getting 48 COLORED pages, Gray’s answer (FINALLY) and with any luck see our ships sail at last! And what’s with that little bit at the end making it sound like a new adventure is beginning??

It’s been a phenomenal journey Hiro-Sensei has taken us on with these guys. They’ve taught us so much about the power of love, of living, of family and of friends, that blood alone doesn’t have to connect us in order to be considered family. I for one am so grateful for everything Fairy Tail has done and will be so sad to see it go, but will never forget the memories that were made while reading this incredible manga. 


Spoilers. 10/10 recommend. Also there’s a huge spoiler at the end end of the book. *evil cackles* Seriously. Read it. REEEEAD IT. NOW FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE::

- Perhaps when my task here was done, I’d burn this manor to the ground, too. Starting with those roses.

- But it was the vines—the thorns—that had made it unlivable. My old bedroom had been overrun with them. They’d curved and slithered over the walls, entwined themselves amongst the debris. As if they’d crawled off the trellises beneath my windows, as if a hundred years had passed and not months.

- To see Ianthe. And at last decide how I was going to shred her into pieces.

- Healing. Alive and healing. I reminded myself of that every day. Even when I still heard their screams, smelled their blood.

- That was my first step: make Tamlin believe, truly believe, that I loved him and this place, and everyone in it. So that he would not suspect when I turned them on each other.

- Not to demand the whereabouts of the two sets of wings his father had kept as trophies after he’d butchered Rhysand’s mother and sister.

- I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien’s bowed form. A knight before his queen.

- I was the nightmare. Preying on what Tamlin had feared from my very first days here. I had not forgotten that long-ago fight he’d picked with Lucien. The warning he’d given him to stop flirting with me. To stay away. The fear that I’d preferred the red-haired lord over him

- “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside.

- And if I could have painted that moment, I would have named it A Portrait in Snares and Baiting.

- Alis squeezed my hand. “Blood rubies or no, you will always have one friend in the Summer Court.” My throat bobbed. “And you will always have one in mine,” I promised her. She knew which court I meant. And did not look afraid.

- “I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.” There was no time for this argument. For the truth and debate and the answers I saw he desperately wanted. Tamlin and the others would have heard the shouting by now. “Don’t make me regret this,” I told him.

- Cassian had taught me to always have a second escape route. Always.

- “But I think letting his court collapse around him is a better punishment. Certainly longer than an easy death.”


- “Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

- Closer and closer to the shore, to the awaiting party of sentries that winnowed in out of nowhere. No, no, no—A shadow slammed into the earth before us, cracking the ice toward every horizon. Not a shadow. An Illyrian warrior.

- “There’s no such thing as a High Lady,” one of Lucien’s brothers spat. A faint smile played on my mouth. “There is now.” And it was time for the world to know it.

- And as those violet eyes met mine, as that familiar half smile faded … My face crumpled. A small, broken noise cracked from me. Rhys was instantly moving, but my legs had already given out. The foyer carpet cushioned the impact as I sank to my knees. I covered my face with my hands while the past month crashed into me. Rhys knelt before me, knee to knee.

- Lucien said nothing while Rhys spoke. Or when I continued with my tale, Cassian often chiming in with his own account of how it’d been to live with two mated-yet-un-mated people, to pretend Rhys wasn’t courting me, to welcome me into their little circle.

- “And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.” “I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—” “Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

- “I hadn’t realized I was a villain in your narrative,” Lucien breathed.

- “As far as I can recall, Cassian,” Rhys countered drily, “you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day.” “Pig,” Amren said.

- “I’ll never forget it, you know,” he said, blowing out a breath. “The moment when he spoke to us all, mind to mind. When I realized what was happening, and that … he’d saved us. Trapped us here and tied our hands, but …”

- “Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

- Again, that dry, quiet smile. “Why do you think Illyrians are so fit?” “Why did no one warn me about this cocky side of yours?” Azriel’s mouth twitched upward.

- “Nesta,” the Bone Carver murmured. “Nes-ta.” I squeezed Cassian’s hand. Enough. It was enough of this teasing and taunting. But he didn’t look at me. “How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.” I wasn’t sure Cassian was breathing.

- But Rhys rubbed his jaw, weighing, thinking. Then he said simply, “Only Nesta would not just conquer Death—but pillage it.”

- They outright gasped as Rhys simply perched on the arm of the throne, smirked at me, and said to the Court of Nightmares, “Bow.” For they had not. And with me seated on that throne … Their faces were still a mixture of shock and disdain as they all dropped to their knees.

- Cassian was halfway to Mor when she whirled on Rhys and said, “Why?” Her voice broke. And something in my chest cracked, too, at the tears that began running down her face.

- Cassian casually slid Nesta behind him, his fingers snagging in the skirts of her black gown. As if to reassure himself that she wasn’t in Amren’s direct path. Nesta only rose onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

- Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

- I caught Cassian glancing at me for the third time in less than a minute and demanded, “What?” His lips twitched at the corners. “You just look so …” “Here we go,” Mor muttered from where she picked at her red-tinted nails against the stair banister.

- “Welcome to the court,” he said to her. “You’re about to have one hell of a first day.” And to my eternal shock, a smile tugged at Nesta’s mouth.

- as Kallias opened his mouth—And then my friend squealed. Squealed. Both females hurtled for each other, and Mor’s squeal had turned to a quiet sob as she flung her arms around the slender stranger and hugged her tight. The female’s own arms were shaking as she gripped Mor.


- “She is Fae.” “No shit,” Viviane muttered under her breath, and Mor’s snort was cut off as Kallias raised his brows at them. Helion ignored them.

- “I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.” “Don’t expect Amren to return hers,” Cassian muttered. “She’s grown attached to it.” I could have sworn a smile tugged on Varian’s mouth.

- But Viviane nodded, chin high, and rose. “I will fight with you.” Cresseida stood a heartbeat later. “As will I.” Both of them looked to the males in their court. Tarquin and Kallias rose. Then Helion, smirking at me and Rhys. And finally Thesan—

- I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’.

- Nesta was watching me carefully. I admitted to her, “Sometimes … I have problems with small spaces.” “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water…“ Nesta said.
- Nesta stepped forward. Then another step. And another. Until she was in front of Graysen, faster than anyone could see. Until Nesta smacked him hard enough that his head snapped to the side. “You never deserved her,” Nesta snarled into the stunned silence as Graysen cupped his face and swore, bending over. Nesta only looked back at me.

- Run, the Suriel mouthed once more, blood dribbling past its withered lips. That was pain in its eyes. Real pain, as mortal as any creature. And if Ianthe took it alive to Hybern … The Suriel knew it was a possibility. It had begged me for freedom once … yet it was willing to be taken. For me to run. Its milky eyes narrowed—in pain and understanding. Yes, it seemed to say. Go.

- Amren found me within twenty steps, a wrapped bundle in her arms. “Every time you lot leave me at home, someone manages to get gutted.”

- Amren and Varian didn’t even bother to join us. No, she’d just wrapped her legs around his waist, right there in front of us, and he’d stood, lifting her in one swift movement. I wasn’t entirely sure how Varian managed to walk them out of the tent while still kissing her, Amren’s hands dragging through his hair, letting out noises that were unnervingly like purring as they vanished into the camp.

- “I CAN’T love him like that.” “Why?” “Because I prefer females.”

- “What?” she asked, coming to my side. “I was just thinking,” I said, smile growing, “that whenever you’re ready … I was thinking about how much fun I’m going to have playing matchmaker for you.”

- And then Nesta began screaming. Not in pain. But a name. Over and over. “CASSIAN.” Amren reached for her, but Nesta roared, “CASSIAN!” She scrambled to her feet, as if she’d leap into the skies.

- “He named his three personal ships after them,” Drakon said with a smile. And there, sailing at the front … I beheld the names of those ships. The Feyre. The Elain. And leading the charge against Hybern, flying over the waves, unyielding and without an ounce of fear … The Nesta. With my father … our father at the helm.

- The talons came first. Replacing fingers and feet. Then dark scales or perhaps feathers, I couldn’t get a look at them, covered his legs, his arms, his chest. His body contorted, bones and muscles growing and shifting. The beast form Rhys had kept hidden. Never liked to unleash.

- threw herself to her knees before Cassian. “Get up,” she sobbed, hauling at his shoulder. “Get up.” He tried—and failed. “You’re too heavy,” she pleaded, but still tried to raise him, fingers scrabbling in his black, bloodied armor. “I can’t—he’s coming—”

- Nesta didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could manage. Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face, “I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

- “Don’t you touch my sister.”

- Rhys’s face was battered—bloody. His hands were still tipped in talons, his canines still elongated. Barely out of that beast form. “You—you freed her—” He was stammering. Shaking. I wasn’t entirely sure how he was even standing.

- It took me a moment to grasp it. What I saw. Rhys was sprawled on the rocky ground, wings draped behind him. He looked like he was sleeping. But as I breathed in—It wasn’t there. That thing that rose and fell with each breath. That echoed each heartbeat. The mating bond. It wasn’t there. It was gone. Because his own chest … it was not moving. And Rhys was dead.

- “Be happy, Feyre.” Tamlin said quietly.

- “Someone fish out dear Amren before she catches a cold.”

- “Hasn’t anyone told you? You’re disgustingly rich.” “Just because I have money doesn’t mean I need to spend it.” He squeezed my knee. “Good. We need someone with a head for money around here. I’ve been bleeding out gold left and right thanks to our Court of Dreams taking advantage of my ridiculous generosity.”

- A gift. All of it.

- There are more tales to be told in the land of Prythian … THE SERIES WILL CONTINUE IN 2018


Stowaway - Part Two (A Tom Holland x Reader Imagine)

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You start to learn what your future on Captain Holland’s ship may look like.

Ships: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Portrayal of an episode which I will loosely call a panic attack, and reference to past abuse.

*A/N: Enjoy. :)

Part One

You feel light on your eyelids and groan, your entire body hurting from yet another night spent on wooden planks. You miss your feather bed in your parents’ home. Perhaps when the ship docks, you can earn enough coin somehow to sleep in a real bed for one night…

“Finally awake, are we, sleeping beauty?” a sardonic voice greets you. You bolt upright, realization flooding you with an awful suddenness. Captain Holland, as he introduced himself, is sitting in a leisurely manner in his chair, his eyes fixed on you as he lounges.

You watch him wordlessly, fighting the urge to shrink in on yourself. When he leans forward, you notice a tray by his elbow with bread, hard cheese, and a pitcher of water on it. Nothing fancy, certainly nothing like the feasts you’ve attended in the past, but you haven’t eaten or drank in nearly three days, so the sight of it almost causes you to faint.

He notices your eyes fixed on the tray and gestures to it. “Would you care for some breakfast?” he asks, tone perfectly civil. You don’t trust it.

“How do I know you’re not going to drug me?” you ask, voice higher than you wish it was. “Or poison me?” At this, he throws his head back and actually laughs, a sound that bubbles up from deep inside him. After a moment, he meets your eyes again, face morphing back to a serious expression.

“Love,” he says, “I wouldn’t have to work that hard if I wanted to kill you, or” his gaze sweeps over you dismissively, “take advantage of you.”

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anonymous asked:

D-don't mind me just imagining *sob* Piper and Annabeth living together happily married maybe with an adorable little demigod child all happy and making sure their child has *sobs* a happy life and every morning Annabeth wakes up takes a deep breath and relishes in the fact she is alive despite all that's happens and then gives Piper a good morning kiss on *sob* the forehead and I just SO BEAUTIFUL

this is honestly my favorite ask thank you so much….

the eternal loop of “did you ask your mother?” is, sadly, easily avoided, as annabeth doesn’t have the patience for it, even though piper makes the joke 10x a day, at any opportunity… annabeth is called mom, and is the usually the Bad Cop mom, but usually she can be won over with puppy eyes from baby and mama (piper). when they see her lips twitch at the corners, smile breaking her stern facade, they know they’re getting what the want. they’ve got a big family, too, so even if her moms dont spoil her all the time, pipabeth’s daughter usually gets what she wants from at least one aunt or uncle.

uncle percy is the kid’s fave… or at least, he thinks he is. in reality, percy’s husband jason is the favorite uncle. uncle percy can show baby alaina (which they call her even up to the age of 11, to her chagrin) the entire sea, which super rules, but uncle jason can fly…. and you just cant beat flying! he also loses his glasses in silly places and always wants to give her a $5 bill (and dont let it be said that you cant buy love! ….but dont tell mama she said that)

the favorite game is hard, though, because uncle leo is cool too, … he made alaina her prosthetic arm, which is awesome, and his smores are always perfect somehow. he makes incredible food (he’s always stuck in the kitchen at thanksgiving, which he doesnt mind, because then he doesnt have to make smalltalk with the rest of the guests) and his husband frank and wife hazel are the nicest people alaina has ever met!! uncle frank can turn into any animal, even the super weird ones, which alaina absolutely loves, and aunt hazel has a horse that makes uncle percy blush when it speaks, (which is hilarious because alaina knows that uncle percy cusses too… he shouldnt get so worked up when someone else does…) but aunt hazel is also always very patient with her in ways the other adults cant always manage, and she loves her for that.

uncle nico and uncle will are cool too… they’re a bit reclusive, but they manage to come for family functions, and they bring their own son, cadence, who is alaina’s favorite (and only) cousin. he’s a bit younger than her, but she doesn’t mind. she tries teaching him how to braid hair, and after much insistance that uncle nico’s hair is very long and could definitely be braided, he finally concedes and figures it out (uncle nico’s hair is a lot more stylish from then on, she decides). when her moms are very, very busy, (mom is an architect and mama is an actress, so they’re very successful and sometimes have to go away on business - sometimes at the same time!) she usually hangs out with uncle nico and uncle will and cousin cadence, and no matter what, they always let her watch kiki’s delivery service, even if she wakes up at 1 am from a nightmare and decides that she needs to watch kiki be brave so that she can be brave. sometimes uncle nico is a bit grouchy waking up, but he’s never mean and he never snaps at her. she thinks, maybe, uncle nico is her favorite, just because of how nice he is.

im now emotional over pipabeth’s sweet, beloved, and totally spoiled daughter…… how did you do this with one message…. what dark magic is this…..

My Mate (Bonus Chapter 4)

Title: My Mate

 Summary: Did you know angels need mates?  Yea, like angelic married…mates.  And sometimes, this heat-like phase takes over where they have to mate, like their biological clock starts ticking.  Well, that is what has happened, and that is how Lucifer wound up in the bunker, his grace fading as he calls out for a mate.  Luckily, the Winchesters are friends with a hunter who is willing to help out.  

 Warnings: Violence.  Angst.  Language.

 Masterlist of Fan Fiction

My Mate Master Post

Bonus Chapter 4—Requested by @messengerofdark

No one knew how it happened.  No one knew what triggered it.  In hindsight, it didn’t matter.  All that mattered was that everyone stayed safe…but that was easier said than done as Riley stood between her mate and the one person who could really hurt him…Michael.

It started only twenty minutes ago.  Riley was at home with the boys, both Luke and Able wanted to build a blanket fort like Uncle Dean had done for them at the bunker, so Riley stayed with them, relaxed on the couch with a book as her little boys ran around her in excitement, using her as a tether for some of the blankets, sitting on the ends and such.  

Aurea was in the throne room, though, with her daddy.  Lucifer never could, and probably never would, be able to say no to his daughter. So that morning, when she gave him a pouting look and begged to go with him for his meetings today, promising she would be good, he caved quicker than a rockslide.  

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#23-Past Abuse (Niall)

Request: Can you do a preference where he finds out you were abused in a past relationship

Warning: descriptions of physical abuse, (being pushed against a wall, a chair being thrown, etc), verbal abuse, nightmare.

A/N: I just want to say that I don’t view people who have (or are) in situations where there is abuse as being damaged or broken or anything like that. If someone did something like that to you-it’s not your fault, it never has been, and it never will be.  If there is the possibility of this triggering you, please don’t read this. This is not meant to romanticize abuse in any way.

Italics are a nightmare.

“Love, please tell me what’s going on,” Niall said, watching as you flinched away from his touch.

“I-I can’t, Niall,” You stammered, your eyes filling with tears. “I need….I’m going to lay down for a bit.”

You walked out of the room, not wanting Niall to see how upset you were. Everything had been fine between you two-wonderful, in fact, until yesterday. You had seen your abusive ex while out shopping, and it had brought back all the memories that you kept pushed to the back of your mind. You had left the store immediately and driven home, jumping at every sudden movement near you and resisting the urge to slam on the brakes whenever a car came near yours. You had pulled into your driveway and immediately gotten out of your car, barely closing the door before you went inside, walking straight past Niall, Harry, Liam and Louis, deaf to their greetings. You had hurried upstairs, and not come out of your room until that evening.

“I’m here if you decide you want to talk, love,” Niall called after you.

Biting your lower lip, you debated about telling Niall everything. You were sure that he wouldn’t be angry at you-but you didn’t want him to see you as someone who was damaged. Brushing the thought away for the moment, you continued upstairs. Once you got there, you changed into your favorite pajamas, and got into bed. You lay there, staring at the wall until you drifted off to sleep.

You were standing in the hall, the concrete walls bright white.

“You’re being a bitch,” You teased, smiling up at your boyfriend. He looked at you, his eyes growing hard. You gasped as he placed his hand directly below your throat, pushing you backwards until you were against the wall, towering over you. You looked down the hallway, tears in your eyes, wondering why there was no one there. ‘Where is everyone?’ You thought, wanting nothing more for someone, anyone, to come along.


You were in his room, sitting by the door.

“Why do you keep doing this?” He yelled. His hands gripped the back of his wooden chair, his knuckles white from how tightly he was holding it.

“I don’t know,” You whispered, not looking at him. Angrily, he picked up the chair and threw it across the room, it colliding with the door with a crash.


The two of you were walking through a doorway when he pushed against your side, causing you to collide with the doorframe. He continued on as you stood there, frozen, watching him walk downstairs. He stopped and stared at you, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t touch me again,” You whispered. He always made you feel this way-helpless, alone, and completely at his mercy. He was taller than you-exactly a foot taller-and wasn’t afraid that you’d do anything back. He was certain you wouldn’t, in fact. He knew that you were terrified of him, and he reveled in it. He reveled in having the control over you that he did. 


“Love? Love, please wake up,” Niall said.

“Please, no. Please, don’t hurt me,” You whispered, moving away from him and trying to make yourself as small as possible.

(Y/N), I’m not going to hurt you,” Niall murmured, not sure what to do. “I need you to wake up, love.”  

He carefully reached towards you, laying a hand gently on your shoulder. Your eyes shot open, and you moved quickly away from him, and ended up falling off the bed. You continued to move away from him, until you were in the corner, your face hidden in your knees, and your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. Niall could hear your sobs from across the room, and he bit his lower lip, unsure about what to do. In the four years that you’d been dating, he’d never seen you react to anything like this. Niall sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, waiting for you to calm down. After what seemed like eternity, your sobs quieted and your breathing became more even.

“Niall,” You whispered, not looking up at him.

“Love,” Niall murmured. “What happened?”

“I….I had a nightmare,” You quietly said.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall asked.

“Okay,” You replied. “But….will you hold me while I tell you about it?”

“Of course, love,” Niall replied. The two of you stood, and you made your way over to the bed. Niall lay down, and then you did the same. He put his arms around you, holding you close.

“I….before I met you, I dated this guy. He hurt me. He’d push me into walls, push me into doorframes….he had an awful temper. He’d say things to me….call me a crazy bitch. He….he said it was my fault. That I was the only one he’d ever hurt. I can still feel his hands on me, sometimes,” You whispered. “I was out shopping yesterday, and I saw him.”

“You saw him,” Niall murmured. “That’s why you looked so upset when you came home?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “He terrifies me, Niall. Even after all these years….”

“I’m so sorry, love,” Niall quietly said, rubbing your back. “I swear, he’ll never put his hands on you again.”

“I love you, Niall,” You whispered.

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Niall said. He held you close, gently rubbing your back and smoothing your hair away from your face, until your breathing evened out. “I love you.”

don't play house with me. you'll regret it. i promise.

I have walked those floorboards
long before you even got here

I have strolling down the hallways
long before you even did step though the threshold

I have laughed in these rooms
long before you even could

I have cried in the dark corners
long before you even knew how to

I have lived with these walls around me
decades before you even existed


I can hear them at night,
the whispers,
calling from within the walls,
screaming loudly, in my mind
calling for me,
from somewhere beyond

In all the dark corners, I hear crying -
awful sobs, tears that will never stop
and that aches deep in my heart

I hear the laughs echoing through,
time and space,
resonating down the hallways
in my soul, just regret


These walls, my prison,
you can never change that
they will keep me here
for all the eternity

I’m the memories
of past days
long gone
screaming, whispering
inside this place
clawing, wants out

breaking the walls,
tearing them down

listen you can’t stop me
this is my home

listen I’ll always be here
me and the other ghosts
whispering in the walls
another life
with laugher
in hallways
and quiet sobs

and silence
just silence
the silence
the deafening silence
only old houses
can make

old houses
with ghosts
like me

alak-cool  asked:

'Monster' for Circe?

This is eternally long, and for that I am sorry! 


It was a crisp autumn day, Circe reveled in the quiet whisper of the leaves under her boots. The thin air of the higher altitude had a chill to it that threatened to freeze her lungs every time she breathed in. She puffed out clouds of breath to amuse herself while Ganymede scanned the area.

She often went on recon missions, at first for Zavala who had caught her sobbing in a corner of the tower after a fight with the Vex. She was not made to kill, that he had known for a while, and he pitied her kind heart. After a few more than successful missions, news of her intel gathering had then passed on to Cayde, Ikora, and Eris and before she knew it nearly the whole tower was sending her on fact finding missions—not that she minded. It gave her a chance to get outside and spend time with her little Ghost, but still feel useful.

A shrill cry cut through the quiet and both she and Ganymede froze.

“Circe, did you hear that?” Ganymede asked, whirring with anxiety, his little blue glow pulsating slightly from inside his mossy shell.

“I’ll check it out.” She pulled her Suros sidearm from her hip, checking the magazine. “Just keep doing what you’re doing so we can get out of here.” Her voice was no more than a whisper as she snuck away.

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Rose - Part One

This is finally done!! I spent five days working on this and I’m kinda happy with how it turned out. It ended up being more about comforting Yongguk than anything else. Something I know a lot of BABYz and Bangsters would have liked to do for him in his time of need… Anyway, without further ado, here is Rose!

In which you begin a relationship with Bang Yongguk amidst and despite a difficult time. [TW: PANIC DISORDER/MENTAL ILLNESS]

B.A.P. Bang Yongguk

1626 Words

The funny thing about meeting Bang Yongguk was that you had no idea he was a celebrity. In fact, you had no idea that he belonged to a K-Pop boy group named B.A.P., or that he was the leader, or that he was currently on hiatus while the rest of his members promoted their latest album. You didn’t know that he had recently wrapped up a world tour, or that he had been in charge of producing Noir, or that he was dealing with a panic disorder.

All you knew was that he was a tall, beautifully handsome young man that came to the café every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a couple of hours, and that he had incredibly soft, undeniably sad eyes.

You watched him come and go those first few weeks in late October, greeting him cheerfully as you were expected to. The small twitch of his lips never quite became a smile. His low voice rumbled from somewhere deep within his chest, but it lacked the strength that would reassure you of his vivacity. Soon enough, you abandoned the customer service etiquette to greet him with more warmth and sincerity.

The day you asked him for his name, he paused. Something akin to surprise settled in his eyes, interrupting their gloomy existence. He held his coffee in one hand, the other reaching to take his credit card from your hand.

“Yongguk,” he’d said, his low bass making the air between you tremble. “Bang Yongguk.”

“Bang Yongguk.” You tasted his name, feeling it on your tongue and lips. You smiled at him, a small, gentle, and sincere smile. “It’s a very handsome name. It suits you.”

Yongguk had looked at you in silence for a couple of seconds before retrieving his credit card from your hands. He’d pocketed it without another word and taken his usual seat; a small round table in the corner of the café by the window.

From then on, you greeted him by name.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk. How are you today?”

His answers were always the same. “Good afternoon. I’m fine.”

“Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

Sometimes he would wait by the counter for his order, others, he would go and sit. Yongguk would stare out the window then, watching the people walk by. When he did this, you would quietly observe him. Some days, he had a book that would lay on the surface, forgotten. On occasion, he had a thin, leather journal that he would open but not write in; his long fingers holding a fountain pen loosely.

On those days, Yongguk would stay until the café closed, leaving only until after you gently urged him to. The sight of the chairs atop the tables, the scent of cleaning solutions that lingered on the air, always seemed to draw him out of his thoughts.

“Ah. I overstayed my welcome.”

He would gather his things and you would usher him to the door.

“Have a good night, Yongguk. Be safe getting home,” you always said. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

And that was the routine you two built around each other.

You continued to watch him from afar, wondering what he could be thinking of so deeply. The more you watched over him, the more you noticed that he carried himself in a manner that made your heart hurt.

Bang Yongguk walked around as if the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

On occasion, you would stand in utter stillness and silence when he came in. He would walk over to the counter and you would simply look into his eyes.

His eyes were tenderly soft and incredibly, terribly sad. They made your heart ache whenever you gazed into them. Yongguk never looked away, always meeting your intrigued stares blink by blink, second by second.

He never smiled. His expression never lightened or softened. It remained sad, so very powerfully sad.

It wasn’t painful. Your heart didn’t break. No, it was swallowed up and engulfed in Yongguk’s eternal, unwavering, unending sadness. You have known raw fear, intense anger, lively happiness, and even crippling grief. But you had never known true sadness until you saw it in Bang Yongguk, until his soft gaze made his sadness your own.

On several occasions, after looking into them, you would slip into the breakroom and cry. You never sobbed, never screamed or threw things. You simply stood with your back pressed against the door, your hand over your mouth, tears falling in utter silence, in complete and true sadness.

One cold morning in November, you stopped by the flower shop at the corner of the block. Yongguk’s sad eyes had found their way to your dreams the night before; you had woken up feeling terribly sad and weren’t surprised to find your cheeks soaked by tears. You weren’t the kind of person to probe and prod into someone else’s life, but you could not go on watching Yongguk in his unending sadness without doing something.

That morning, you bought a single red rose from the lady at the shop. She offered to wrap it up for you, but you refused.

“At least let me remove the thorns.”

You smiled. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Honey, someone could get hurt.”

You stopped yourself from saying “He’s already hurting.”

After some more bickering, you took the single rose, thorns and all. Your coworkers looked at your curiously when you came in sucking at your thumb.

“What happened?”

You smiled around your thumb. “Thorn.”

Aside from shaking their heads, no one questioned you about the rose. You placed it in a safe place, wrapped a Band-Aid around your thumb, and proceeded to work.

It was half-past one when Yongguk walked in. His hair had gotten longer since you’d first met him; it caught in his eyelashes as he blinked. Every step he took seemed to be weighed down by a million worries. His tall, lean figure slouched underneath his coat.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk,” you said, giving him the smile that existed because of him. “How are you today?”

“Good afternoon. I’m fine.”

“Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

It was the same routine, the same words, the same exchange. Except that this time, Yongguk said one more thing as you handed him his drink: “What happened to your hand?”

For a moment, you weren’t quite sure what he meant, then you remembered the paper-thin slash on your thumb.

“Aah, this?” You raised your thumb, your smile becoming a bit wider, a tad warmer. “Wait here.”

Puzzled, Yongguk stood by the counter until you returned, holding the single, budding rose in your hands. You walked around, standing before him. His size had overwhelmed you the first time you’d stood before him, but you’d grown accustomed to having to tilt your head up to look at him.

“Yongguk,” you said, offering him the rose, “this is for you.”

He stood there for a while, eyes focused on the rose. He stood so still, so quiet, for so long anyone else might have retracted their gift, laughing off their embarrassment. But you didn’t move an inch either. You continued to offer him the rose, knowing that something more profound was occupying his thoughts.

Eventually, Yongguk accepted the rose. His fingertips brushed yours, a soft whisper. You didn’t wait to be thanked, mainly because that wasn’t the reason why you were giving him a flower. Instead, you smiled at him again, that smile that Yongguk had just begun to notice with a bit more care.

That is how a new step was added to your routine.

Every morning, you would stop by the flower shop, purchase a single, red rose, and present it to Yongguk when he arrived. Sometimes, he would head over to his favorite spot, deep in thought, heavy in sadness; you would leave the rose with his order.

Neither of you ever said anything else.

Around mid-November, Yongguk’s eyes became lighter, a slight fraction of the sadness in them seemed to dissipate.

“Good afternoon, Yongguk. How are you today?”

“Good afternoon. I’m doing better.”

You perked up at his answer, lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. The genuine relief at hearing him, seeing him, feel better made your chest hurt and your eyes swell with tears.

Yongguk took in your reacting with curious surprise. You didn’t say you were glad to hear that he was doing better; you didn’t need to, it was clearly written on your face. Yongguk’s expression softened. Not enough to produce a smile, but enough that your heart throbbed in painful relief.

Knowing you were close to tears, you cleared your throat. “Same as last time?”

“Yes, please.”

He paid and took his seat. You made his drink and asked a coworker to deliver it for you. Slipping out of sight and into the breakroom, you leaned against the door, crying in relief for Yongguk.

By the time you regained your composure, Yongguk had settled into a new activity: writing. The journal he had ignored was now being used. Disguising your sob as a hiccup, you walked over, quietly leaving his rose on the other end of the table.

You didn’t notice, but Yongguk had looked up at the sight of your hand. He noticed the relief on your face, as well as the single tear that rolled down your cheek before you walked away. He noticed the smile with which you’d left the rose and how it differed from the smile with which you greeted other patrons or shared with your coworkers.

Yongguk wrote that entire day, but every so often, he would stop and observe. He no longer looked out the window. He focused his attention on you.

[-Admin Lockette]

Part II

anonymous asked:

Hey! Love your work! If Damien committed suicide after learning that Witch Dadsona was killed after he pushed him away, could you write about Lucien finding his body and the other Dads (and Mary's) reaction to the news?

[thank you anon! I’m glad you enjoy whatever i write :)) Hope you enjoy and feel free to send in asks/prompts!]

Keep reading

We’ll Meet Again

Listen. I don’t know either just take it. Read it on AO3

Jack is visiting his grandma in Kentucky when he learns an important lesson about listening to your elders.

Warning: It’s got ghostys. 

Visiting grandma Lori in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Kentucky was most definitely not at the top of Jack’s to do list. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his grandma, oh no, he adorned the woman, it was just that spending the first week of summer vacation at grandma’s house with mom is not a 17-year-old boy’s favorite thing to do.

Jack sighed melodramatically as he hefted the last of their suitcases out of the suburban. His mom had, of course, decided to take everything but the kitchen sink with her making the unloading process more difficult than it needed to be. Slowly, he slogged up the driveway to the front door of the house.

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Love, Lust, and Little Angels Pt. 3

Pairing: Castiel/reader

Fic Masterlist

Summary: Cas informs you of some rather important news; the boys get to hear it in the same day too! (oh boy)

Warnings: none that I can think of (for once)

A/N: Is this moving too fast? idk.

Tags: @joanne-egberp @lolurnotsamwinchester @xleeleeboox @imaginelotr @tala002 @mittcci @fandommaniacx @trashforwinchesters @bkwrm523

Originally posted by inacatastrophicmind


You stared at Cas, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean ‘it’s not the food?” you asked warily. Your hand flew to your stomach. Maybe you were sick, you thought. He is an angel, he would be able to tell. Cas sighed, standing up.

“You’re not sick either. I believe what you’re experiencing is usually labeled ‘morning sickness’.” he replied steadily.

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Knight in shining armor - Dean Winchester x Reader (Knight/Princess AU) - Part 18 - The End

Title: Knight in shining armor

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 6,044

Warnings: None

Original imagine: AU. Imagine being a princess and falling in love with one of your father’s knights, Dean Winchester, although you are forbidden to.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here! l Read Part 3 here! l Read Part 4 here! l Read Part 5 here! l Read Part 6 here! l Read Part 7 here! l Read Part 8 here! l Read Part 9 here! l Read Part 10 here! l Read Part 11 here! l Read Part 12 here! l Read Parts 13 & 14 here! l Read Part 15 here! l Read Part 16 here! l Read Part 17 here!

                             READ. TILL. THE. END. PLEASE!
                             meaning not just the beginning

Once again: Don’t read just the beginning! Trust me! You will not regret it!

And it all was so obvious as you and Dean walked, holding hands, down the small forest. Your father had made his decision and it was all well-accepted by you and Dean.

You turned your head to look at him with a small smile that got just a little bigger as you saw his forest-green orbs shining brightly and his freckles like small stars shining because of the warm mid-day light shining over him. It was such abeautiful day. Pretty warm, but not too much. There were birds singing in the far distance as you could hear and even a small warm breeze was blowing. The rustling of the leaves gave you such a relaxed feeling that you just could not help but remember that one first time you had come with Dean here and were about to kiss. It was all before everything had started. Before all of this had started. But now it was over- It was going to be over. During such a beautiful say… it actually felt a shame that you were both going to die on such a day.

Dean’s hand took hold of yours, both your hands were bound together by a rope attached to a longer one that a soldier in front of you had hold of. You smiled ever so faintly at Dean looking deeply in his shining eyes- shining because of the welled up tears. But he refused to shed them and so did you. Your father had made his decision and you were both willing to accept it. Well, Dean had raised objections of course when the first words had been said but you were not taking no for an answer.

Very well” your father had said, all emotion draining from his face and eyes.

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Dirty Talk


so this came about as part of a thing I was discussing with furiwokaaan

so I was inspired and wrote it!

well, it was more of an excuse to let me write kuroshin haha

writing Kuroha is a bitch though sobs

so yeah here you go and if you’ll excuse me I will go collapse in that corner over there

what is sleep and is it edible

anyway I hope you like it ^ ^

Links! || A03


Title: Dirty Talk
Rating: E
Relationships: kuroshin, past harushin
Warnings: non/dub-con, younger!Shintaro, ANGST

Keep reading


Kirk: Well there’s one difference between us I’m hungry.
Android Kirk: The difference is your weakness Captain, not mine.
Kirk: Eating is a pleasure sir, unfortunately one you will never know.
Android Kirk: But I will never starve sir.

( cue direct Tarsus IV reference making me want to sob in a corner for all eternity) 

Where Flowers Bloom, So Does Hope

Where Flowers Bloom, So Does Hope

By: DreamingKate


Summary: A jealous god curse’s the love of Apollo’s life with a horrible kind of immortality. He will be reborn and fall back in love with him only to be snatched away before they can truly be happy. Blaine is the newest reincarnation.


Author’s Note: Written for the Blaine Anderson Big Bang. Inspired by the tragic tale of Apollo and Hyacinth. The title is from a quote by Lady Bird Johnson and this story was betaed by my wonderful sister.


Warnings: Death, violence  

Beautiful art here by the amazing Lillemian!!


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eyyyyyyy happy birthday my perfect ikeNEET soda angel ♥♥ (o´ v  ` 人) ♪

I have nothing to contribute and I’m fairly busy today, but have a repost of some old-ish fanart I did that went completely unnoticed that one time //cries and some nice words, I guess //////