strange bounce

Dauntless: Daddy, Dearest

Eric x OC

Warnings: Language

A/N: CURSE YOU @pathybo

Dauntless (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, ​Part 8​, Part 9​, ​Part 10​, ​Part 11​, ​​​​​​​Part 12​​, Part 13​​, Part 14​​, ​Part 15,​Part 16,   Part 17​, ​Part 18,​Part 19​, Part 20, Part 21)

Dauntless: Jealous Much?

​Dauntless: Competition

​Dauntless: Uh oh

​Dauntless: What Are You Afraid Of? (​Part 1​, ​Part 2​)

Dauntless: Where is He!? (Part 1, Part 2)

Dauntless: Happy Birthday (Coming soon)

Dauntless: I Love You

Dauntless: Camille

​Dauntless: I Can’t Stop (​Part 1​, ​Part 2​, Part 3)

Dauntless: Caffeine, Baby?

Eric POV

“Listen here, you motherfucker,” Camille snarled, glowering at me from across the table. “So help me if you don’t pick one fucking name, I’m drawing them out of a hat!”

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desidaqueen-deactivated20170520  asked:

Klonnie - their baby won't stop crying and the whole squad don't know what to do? ( I'm just craving baby Klonnie 🙂)

She has read somewhere that in the first few weeks you are responding solely to their physical needs.  The emotional comes later as they learn to navigate the world around them but in the beginning it is food, sleep, and a dry bum.

She thinks she can manage to satisfy those needs.

She thinks wrong.

One thing she quickly learns about their son is that he does not want to be put down.  She tries if only for a quick moment so she can eat or heaven forbid shower.   Henry responds by opening his mouth and letting out an ungodly wail that shouldn’t be possible for someone with lungs so small.  It stops the moment he is pressed to her skin so she puts off whatever task that had been on her mind.

When Kol comments that she has looked better, she angrily thrusts the baby at him.  It might not be his mother’s arms  that Henry rests in but he seems content enough for her to wash away a few days’ worth of funk.  She learns a valuable lessons while she hums under the hot water.  Henry doesn’t crave her as much as he craves any contact.

So it becomes a game of pass the baby.

Henry makes his way around the compound, passed from mother to father to uncle to aunt before making his way to his mother again.  It is a pretty good system and it allows Bonnie to form some sort of routine (all the books spoke of routine) as well as get some down time.  One afternoon she even finds herself curled up with Klaus in their bed while Henry is rocked dutifully by Elijah.

It works — until it doesn’t.

One night Bonnie bolts up in bed, instinct already pushing her to reach for Henry before she even realizes his crying is what woke her.  Beside her Klaus opens one eye and mutters something about his hungry son before drifting back to sleep (some days she wonders if he is part lion instead of part wolf — he is infinitely more lazy than she ever imagined him to be).  She thinks he is right and sets about feeding Henry.  Only he won’t latch.  Instead he balls up his fists and howls (definitely part wolf).

Klaus wakes and takes Henry from her.  If he isn’t hungry one of his other basic needs must be met.  He somehow manages to change a diaper, no easy feet given how Henry squirms.  Bonnie pulls herself out of bed and tries a few things that have seen success in the past: rocking, bouncing, this strange move that looks more like interpretative dance than anything (Klaus eyes her with a raised brow on that one).  She gives up when Henry continues to cry and tags out.

His father tries to tell him a story as he walks the length of their room.  Bonnie finds Klaus’ voice soothing but apparently Henry is immune to such things.  He shows no signs of slowing down.

Kol is the first to appear, coming to stand in their doorway with a scowl on his face.  “How much longer are we to be subjected to this?”

Bonnie throws him a look.  “You are free to sleep elsewhere.”

“Have you tried stuffing his mouth with your —”

Klaus comes to stand in front of Kol with Henry’s raging body held close to his chest.  “If you value your life, you will not finish that sentence.”

Kol eyes his nephew.  “Perhaps a gag then?”

“Get the hell out,” Bonnie says as she comes to stand next to Klaus.  It is automatic for her hand to come out to brush against Henry’s back.  She can feel all his muscles straining.  Her heart aches for her son.  

Kol does as she asks, muttering under his breath as he goes.

“Give him back,” Bonnie says, her arms open to receive her son.  He pushes against her, arching his back as he screams.  “Maybe a walk…” She leaves the room before Klaus can point out he has been walking for the past ten minutes. She moves past of the rest of the bedrooms quickly, feeling like she has a live bomb in her arms.  She descends the stairs into the courtyard, not even thinking of the acoustics of the Mikaelson home.  

If anyone had been still asleep — they aren’t anymore.

Rebekah appears next, moving to drape herself over the railing so she can look down at mother and son.  “Poor babe,” she muses.  “He probably just realized he has a mutt for a father.”

“Rebekah,” Bonnie chides as she bounces Henry once more.  Not helping.  So not helping.   

“My apologies,” she says.  “I have been told I am rather vicious when I am woken from a dead sleep.”

“I am sorry.”  Guilt hits Bonnie.  Not so much because she has woken up the household but because she has no idea what to do to help her son.  She should know right?  She is his mother.

Rebekah waves the apology off.  “I knew what I signed up for.  Does he have gas?”

Bonnie has already tried patting him on his back but she is desperate at this point.  She tries again.  Henry is clearly not pleased by the actions.  If anything he manages to up the volume.  He sounds livid now.  “Oh baby…”

Klaus is by her side within a blink.  He has Henry’s favorite blanket (or at least they presume it is his favorite).  Together they wrap Henry up with it.  Bonnie takes one look at him swaddled and makes a face.  “He looks like an angry burrito.”

Klaus gives her a look (he must be questioning her sanity; hell she is questioning her sanity).

Freya comes next.  She seems more alert and Bonnie remembers she is a night owl.  She passes her grumpy sister and descends the stairs.  She has a sympathetic look on her face as she comes to stand next to the new parents.  Her fingers smooth along Henry’s cheek. “Perhaps a spell?  Something small to send him off to sleep.”

Bonnie is horrified at the thought.  Though she knows Freya means well, she can’t help but clutch Henry to her.  “I want him to always be in control of himself,” she says firmly.  She knows what it is like to have your mind clouded by magic.  She will not do to that to him even if he won’t ever remember.

Freya bows her head in deference to Bonnie’s wishes.  

When Elijah finally joins then, Henry has been crying for nearly an hour.  Bonnie feels drained by it all, close to tears herself.  She looks down at her son, the guilt and desperation mixing together with disastrous results.  Her gaze falls on  Klaus.  “Why won’t he stop?  I should be able to help him.  I can’t help him.  I am a complete failure as a mother.”

Klaus frowns and looks to Elijah.  His brother nods his head (are they communicating telepathically?) and then steps forward.  “Bonnie, I will take my nephew.”

Bonnie is near panic now and has to be coaxed to hand Henry over.  Elijah carefully takes the baby and she slumps forward.  Klaus is there to catch her, his arms coming around her.  Her head lands on his chest and she tangles a hand in the shirt he has worn to bed.  

“Bonnie, love, you are far from a failure,” Klaus tells her quietly.  It takes a moment for his voice to break through the sound of Henry’s wailing.  “You are an amazing creature.  Strong, fierce and determined.  He is a baby and sometimes he will cry until you think he will run out of air.  He won’t I assure you and just because he does it doesn’t make you a bad mother.  You are learning.  We are learning.”

She sighs, closing her eyes.

Henry lets out an abrupt shortened cry and then stops all together.  Bonnie raises her head to look at Klaus.  Together they glance over at Elijah to find him covered in every ounce of what Henry has eaten in the past few hours.  The older Original stands there, looking a bit shell shocked.  

Bonnie’s mouth falls open a little and then she steps forward. “Uh…”

Elijah tries to maintain a shred of decorum (is it…yep, it is in his hair) as he hold Henry out.  “It would appear all is fine now.”

Bonnie brings Henry to her and notes the way he snuggles into the crook of he neck.  She breathes a sigh of relief.  “Yes…I should…I should put him back to bed.”

She and Klaus both retreat to save Elijah’s pride from any further damage.  She is changing Henry out of his soiled clothes when she hears it — Kol once more.

“Ugh, brother, why do you smell like rotten milk?”


Paul McGann auditioning for the Eighth Doctor.

Cutie! Around 50 seconds in, changing gears on a dime.

Still playing with that crossover

“Okay, you grab a table, I’m just gonna…” Kara vaguely motioned in the direction she rushed, heading quickly toward where the restrooms were located.

Cat huffed and glanced around. Much to her annoyance, everyone was trying very hard not to stare, which, of course, meant all eyes were on her. “No one will know who I am, huh,” she muttered to herself while she waited for a young brunette who was clearly the only server in the establishment to seat her.

“Hi,” the server greeted with a tense smile. “Welcome to Granny’s. Would you like a table or a booth?”

“A booth.” Cat glanced around again and noted that all eyes were still on her. She internally groaned and checked for the least conspicuous place in the diner, which was a table in the back corner. Waving her hand dismissively, she stated firmly, “Never mind. We’re sitting there.” She pointed at the table as she made her way to it.

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The Distance

Which will prove to be the greater feat, Running for miles or Waiting for years?

Originally posted by shookbin

A/N: Hellaaaa cliche. Just a heads up…

Genre: Angst

Disclaimer: !Sanha will NOT be involved in anything mature!

You were doing your daily routine: leave work, hop in a cab, hop out of the cab, walk the rest of the distance home. You were convinced that the Earth had been against you when a strong gust of wind tore your umbrella from your hand just as you opened it. The taxi was long gone and you could barely see past the ponderous rain. With no awnings in sight you, you decide to just book it.

How in the world you forget that rain was wet and made the ground slipper? You would never know. You slipped and fell on your butt, bouncing once. Strangely, you weren’t in pain. The only thing that was hurt was your will to carry on. You sighed heavily as the rain poured over your now trembling body. You tensed up as the rain stopped hitting you. Almost disturbed by the lack of precipitation showering your body, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked around. It was still raining…

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Well, hello everyone! Did you come to see if you’re on my ‘nice’ list?”

cutie sora’s on the naughty list (◡‿◡✿) 


Your voice echoes in this strange room, bouncing off the concrete and glass, magnifying in the small space. Though it had originally been intimidating, looking up at the walls of the room, made entirely out of mirror, you saw one of the most exquisite sights you’d ever experienced. The reflection of Sehun rolling his hips into yours with force, unmarred by any imperfection, is seared into your memory now, hard lines of his body and arms meld into your softer form. As your eyes move up, they trail over shimmering sweat on his skin, wet parted lips, and then to his dark eyes under strong brows which you notice are focused just as clearly on you. They follow the same path along your body in the mirror, watching carefully the place where his shaft enters your body but moving to see the way your face twists with cries of passion. All of it is clear in the mirrors - every movement and shift in expression as you twine together, perfectly synchronous.

- Admin J

dr-caulfield  asked:

Caulscott one shot where Nathan and Max are at the carnival and Nathan and Max are at the basketball shooting stand and Max admires a big doe plushie that's one of the big plushie say the top of the rack but the basketball hoops are too far for Max to shoot for but Nathan's like "I got this babe" and shoots all hoops and wins the Doe plushie for Max and just ajaksopswkicp

I think everyone in the caulscott tag needs something cute this weekend, so I think this is perfect… This fanfiction is dedicated to all of the caulscott shippers! All of you are super, duper wonderful people and please don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! Thank you for sending in your ask and waiting patiently! (I’ll also get to your other request either tomorrow or the day after that!) c:

Warnings: None. SFW. Enjoy!

They were walking side by side each other, letting the fun, chaotic atmosphere sink in. Both of them let their eyes wander to the many stands and games that they passed by, eying the people who were either viciously competing for a simple stuffed animal or slumping their shoulders in utter defeat as the buzzer rang out into the din mockingly. Nathan didn’t see the appeal. It seemed like just a big waste of time - and a waste of money. The people who ran them seemed awfully cheeky and full of themselves, like they took pride in people’s defeat while knowing they still got paid for their losses.

It was kinda… bizarre.

Although, he knew that’s just how things worked in a place like this. Sighing, he pulled out a french fry out from the small food carton he was holding and popped it into mouth. He was getting bored. They had rode everything and checked out mostly the entire place, plus it was getting dark. At this point, he was satisfied and ready to go. Turning to his side, he murmured, “Uh, Max, maybe we should bounce…”

Strangely enough, she was no where in sight.

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Imagine one stormy night at the vixx dorm there’s a blackout. Hakyeon, who was sleeping in the living room couch, starts shaking when he hears something approaching from the hallway, a strange light bouncing off the floor  and walls preceding it… He’s already let out a night piercing scream when he realizes it’s only glow-in-the-dark-leo, looking for a phone charger

Luke Imagine: Demon AU Part 2

Author: Rhine

Part 1


He’s grinning wickedly at you, blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

You’re still gaping at him, eyes wide and hair messy, tangled in the covers of your bed.

“I – what – how could you – you’re – “

He was a dream. A figment of your imagination.

You had saw him last when you were sleeping. When he had you in his iron grip, hungry lips on yours, sharp teeth biting down –

When he was eating away at you.

But it was all just in your head. You had woken up in this very bed right after. You went to school and you went on in your life and he disappeared – he was just a trick of your subconscious, just a character made up in your brain.

But he was standing right in front of you.

There’s amusement in his ice blue eyes, and he’s like a shadow moving in the darkness when he steps towards you.

Did you think I’d leave you just like that, princess?

His words are smooth, teasing, almost. His voice is low and strangely echoing, bouncing around in your room in whispers despite his quiet tone.

Or perhaps you thought I had forgotten you?

You can’t pry yourself away from his perfect features; as precise and flawless as a marble statue, blue eyes boring into yours as if he could see the inner workings of your mind.

And maybe he could.

No – he was just a dream.

But you can’t but to think that if this was just another dream, you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted to drown in his snow white skin, you wanted to get lost in the depths of his gleaming blue eyes, you wanted to be consumed by his hungry lips, you wanted –

You wanted answers.

You didn’t understand – what’s happening who is he why me – and your questions eat at you more viciously than his lips ever could.

You have so many questions to ask him, but none of them flesh out properly in your mind, let alone form on your lips.

He must see the confusion and the conflict in your eyes because his grin becomes a little wider, revealing pointed teeth that you would’ve missed if you haven’t tasted them yourself.

You’re a curious one, aren’t you? I could tell you everything you want to know, but where’s the fun in that?

He steps away from you, and you can’t help but to notice the gaping hole from his absence when he leaves your side, as if he took something from inside of you that you couldn’t quite place a finger on.

How about I show you instead?

His lips are twisted into a mischievous smirk that says nothing but trouble.

He walks over to your window before turning back to you, hand extended, blending in perfectly with the shadows as if he belonged in them.

You’d be stupid for trusting him – he’s a figment of your imagination, and one who ate you at that – but his pointed grin holds an aura of mystery and there’s no denying the charm that comes hand-in-hand with that danger in his icy blue eyes.

You wanted answers and you didn’t want to let this chance slip by – and if he’s just a dream, then what’s the harm?

The dangers outweigh any possible benefits and you’re an idiotic little girl who’s a little too enraptured by a boy whose smile is too beautiful to be human, whose taste is one that you’d never forget.

You toss your covers away from you and you stand up, though you’re still tiny next to him.

You reach your hand out to his, but there’s a moment of hesitation – you stare at his long fingers before you meet his waiting eyes and you think you hear a voice that isn’t yours whisper take it.

And before you can change your mind, you clasp his hand.

They’re large and encompass yours completely, entrapping your hand with a numbing cold that travels through your veins.

And in an instant, he tugs you closer to him – closer to the cold that radiates from his body, closer to the darkness that shrouds him – and before you can process anything properly in your mind, he presses you to his chest, wrapping his cold arms around you before he vaults out your window – taking you with him.

And then you’re falling.


You can’t contain the shriek that escapes your lips from his sudden movement, and you can feel the brisk air whipping past your cheeks as you fell, taking your breath with it.

The fear is almost instantaneous, growing in your chest as your stomach dropped from the speed you were falling at – you’re certain you’re going to smash into the pavement below you in a mess of splintered bones and blood spatters, your breath stolen by the wind.

You squeeze your eyes shut and you bury yourself into the boy’s chest almost by instinct to protect yourself, but while you find no warmth in his arms, there’s a sense of shelter that you cling onto.

You brace yourself for the impact of bone to pavement, but it never comes.

When you open your eyes, you’re immediately disoriented – you’re suddenly standing straight up instead of falling headfirst, and your head spins trying to correct yourself, vision swimming and mind dizzy.

He takes a step back away from you, letting go of the iron grip he had around you – though you can’t help but to notice his retraction is slightly hesitated, his touch lingering before he pulls away.

When you finally get a chance to get a clear look around you, you’re more confused than you were before.

His lips are quirked up in one corner when he notices your shocked expression, something dark flashing in his eyes that matched the low undertone in his voice.

Welcome to my world.


You don’t know what you’re expecting, but it sure as hell isn’t this.

The first thing that hits you is the darkness.

It surrounds you like fog, wafting around you, leaving a wispy trail that smelt like burnt ashes behind it.

You think you might be imagining it, but you think you hear voices whispering when the fog passes by.

You can’t make out the words, but the urgent tones paid with the emotionless mumbles send a chill up your spine.

You can’t seem to find a horizon line or an end – if you squint through the fog, it’s just endless shades of dark purple and black and blue skies, blending together in swirls and patterns that mesmerized you. It’s as if the galaxy was rearranging itself right before your eyes, shifting and twisting, stretching and detaching itself over and over again.

A low groan brings your attention to the ground – it’s shiny and smooth like ice – except tinted black, darker than the night sky. You can see your reflection off the shiny black surface and if you look closely, you can see red hairline cracks that run through it, like veins running through the ground.

The groan sounds again, a little louder this time. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you lean down, examining the ground. The red hairline cracks almost seem to pulse like a bloodstream, and something about that unsettles you, leaving you shivering.

You squint at your reflection on the ice before deciding it was nothing – when something that resembles a hand smacks the ice from the other side, a louder guttural growl shaking the ground.

You yelp and stumble back from surprise, falling to the ground – you think you might’ve imagined it – no, you wish you just imagined it, but you think you see a flash of yellow reflecting off the other side of the ice before it disappears.

You pry your eyes off the ground and turn to stare at the boy, whose white skin and golden blonde hair stands out in this shadowy world, yet he somehow still looks so in place, at home with the darkness.

“Wha – what was that? Where is this place? What is this place?”

Your words barely come out as a whisper, and the fear starts to settle in your bones.

The vast limitless ocean of black nothingness and the whispering fog and the – the thing – on the other side of the pulsing ice was enough to create nightmares for the rest of your life.

This is my home.

He says it simply, and the words would’ve been innocent if it weren’t for the rumbling echoing undertones in his voice that resonated eerily in this world; stretching his words far and wide across the limitless expanse and eating them up in the nothingness at the same time.

 “What are you?”

Your question comes out dipped in fear and curiosity, and you try to steady your trembling knees so you can stand up and meet his eyes despite his towering height over you.

He merely smirks at you, and his lips hold nothing but mystery and answers that he refuses to tell you.

“This is home? Is this – is this hell or something? Are you… are you some sort of demon?”

The last word comes out as a hushed whisper, almost as if you’re afraid that if you say it out loud you might unlock some flaming inferno that would smite you.

His smile only gets more pointed as he steps towards you, practically gliding across the smooth ice below you.

Why be a demon when you can be a god?

You can start to see the black ink fill his eyes like they did so many times in your dreams and you can feel yourself starting to quiver from the cold, from the fear.

You shouldn’t have taken his hand you shouldn’t have trusted him you shouldn’t have been so stupid you stupid foolish girl

You just wanted to go home you wanted to wake up this can’t be real this can’t be real because marble-carved boys with black-inked eyes who lived in some sort of – underworld – simply didn’t exist.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

It had to be a dream.

No, it was a nightmare.

He notices the hysteria that starts to grow in your eyes, and almost instantly, the black from his eyes start to fade away.

I won’t hurt you.

But you know that’s a lie because he’s eaten your lips and your voice before and you know he’d do it again if he wanted to and even if he wouldn’t hurt you, he sure as hell scared you.

And you can’t believe there was a time when you thought this boy was a dream.

He was your worst nightmare.


You don’t know what to do.

You can’t run because there’s nowhere to go and there’s no way you’d possibly get anywhere far, not when this was clearly his realm.

He has his arms stretched out for you, held out like he’s afraid you’re going to bolt. There’s something that might’ve resembled concern in his eyes, and if you were awake and back home, you’d say he might’ve even cared for you.

But the sky is swirling black behind him and the fog still whispers around you and the ground is rumbling and you’re not at home and you’re not awake and he’s not human.

The hysteria starts to rise in your stomach – what is he going to do to me oh god how am I going to get back why why why – and you can feel yourself start to hyperventilate, the fear consuming you like he did so many weeks ago.

This time it’s a little less enjoyable.

Your eyes dart around nervously, trying to find a way out, trying to think of a way to wake yourself up, to get out – when he suddenly speaks again, the single word echoing around you.


The confusion overtakes your fear for a split second, and you’re certain you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He looks at you, head cocked almost childishly to the side.

Luke. That’s my name. I’m… I’m Luke.

You almost want to laugh at the silliness of it all – it’s so simple, so normal. A name so common for something that calls himself a god.

“Well then, Luke – can you bring me home now?”

You start to muster up courage now, your knees no longer knocking together so much, though you can’t control the shaking in your fingers.

This is home.

And his words almost give you a heart attack – this is not home my home is with my family and friends not this hellhole this is not home – but you try to shake it off and regain what little confidence you had before.

“This is your home. I want to go home. To my home.”

He looks at you, eyebrows knitted slightly together in what could’ve been an expression of sadness.

But he’s not capable of that, he’s not capable of things like feeling, not when he feeds on your heart and lives in the darkness.


It’s almost pleading, his word hanging in the air, crushing you like weights.

You can’t stay – you needed to go home and you didn’t belong in the darkness like he did you didn’t belong with him no matter how much he raised your curiosity, there were lines you had to draw and there were some questions that you wanted to leave unanswered.

But he looks at you, blue eyes pleading.

There’s a trace of loneliness in his next words, the echoes that encompasses his voice making his words sound hollow and empty.

Please don’t be afraid.

He takes your hand gingerly and his hands are as cold as ice but you don’t flinch, you let your warm skin melt his cold touch and he tries to calm your shaking fingers, but you think you can feel his shaking, too.

He pulls you closer to him and you’re stiff but you oblige, and you step closer to the cold air that surrounds him until you’re close enough to see the ice in his blue eyes.

He’s still holding your hand in his as if he’s desperately trying to cling on to the heat of your touch, and he gently presses his cool forehead to yours, stooping low to meet your level.

He closes his eyes and he whispers the words again, quiet enough to be just a thought in his head.

Please don’t be afraid.


He’s afraid.

He’s afraid that if he tells you, you’ll leave. That you’ll become like the rest of them and fear him.

He’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll never want to come back.

And why would you?

What could he give? What could he do for you?

He certainly couldn’t give you the warmth you so clearly deserved. He couldn’t give you dreams that would leave you smiling every night. He couldn’t give you a safe shelter in his arms.

He could only give you the exact opposite.

He wishes he wasn’t so enraptured by you, but there’s something about the heat in your touch that he craves so much.

He’s afraid to lose that.

He’s afraid of losing you.


You stay there, foreheads touching and eyes closed – you aren’t sure how long you’re frozen there for, but you don’t have any intention to move.

Maybe it’s because his icy hands freeze you in your place. Maybe it’s because his touch calms your erratic heart.

And for a moment, you forget the whispers around you and the groaning of the ice and you forget every thought of wanting to go home.

You notice how his chest moves up and down, breaths coming in slow, cold puffs on your cheek despite the fact that there isn’t a heartbeat.

You lose yourself in the chill that surrounds him and the steadiness of his breath and even though your eyes are closed you know he’s still there.

It’s a different type of drowning from when you got lost in his lips and the taste of his tongue.

You think you like it a little bit more.

You break the silence, repeating the words you said earlier, but your voice is quieter this time, almost gentle.

“What are you?”

His eyes flutter open and you can feel his eyelashes tickling your skin when they do; revealing bright blue eyes that are just mere millimeters away from yours.

I’m a nightmare.

His words are a cold breeze, sharp and bitter. He closes his eyes again and takes a sharp intake before opening them again.

I create nightmares, designed differently for everyone. I send it to them; delivering them, if you may. I am a nightmare.

There’s something that sounds a lot of like self-anger in his voice, but he covers it well and you’re left guessing what goes on in that head of his.

“You aren’t a nightmare. You just make them. It’s… it’s different.”

You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation – comforting this demon, this god who created nightmares – it sounds delusional in your head, even for a dream.

You can’t tell if you’re stupid or crazy or both, but the soft smile that appears on his lips erases any doubt you have in your mind.

It’s not his usual mischievous smirk or pointed grin; it’s something more gentle that you haven’t seen from him.

You think it suits him well.

I’m sorry I brought you here, princess.

His words come out in whispers and he’s holding you close and you won’t melt but you think you might permanently freeze yourself there instead.

“Don’t be – it’s… it’s nothing. What is this place, anyways?”

He pulls away from you to look around at the dark swirling clouds and black ice; the only home that he knew so well. Every vein in the ice, every droplet in the fog, every twist in the clouds – it was all too familiar to him and he forgets what it all was like before he called this place his home.

It’s my world.

He just wanted you, and he acted stupidly in his moment of craving – he wanted you all for himself, he wanted you to fit into the darkness that he made his home and he wanted to keep you but he knows now, he knows that you don’t belong.

Your warmth didn’t belong in his sunless realm. Your bright smile didn’t belong with the darkness he created.

He might’ve wanted you, but you certainly didn’t belong with him.

He looks at the wide expanse of his world; the cracks in the ice his veins for the blood he no longer had, the droplets in the clouds the tears he could no longer shed.

And he thinks that perhaps nobody belonged in this dark, desolate place – this nightmare – but him.

He gently caresses your cheek with his thumb and smile sadly down at you.

He wishes he could keep a bit of your sunshine, but he knows he’ll just freeze it with his touch.

He just wasn’t meant for the warmth.

He places a light kiss on your forehead, taking you by surprise.

I’m sorry, princess.

And before you have time to respond, a cloud of black fog shrouds your vision, surrounding you until you were encased by the harsh darkness.

The last thing you see are his piercing eyes before the darkness covers that, too.

And he’s left holding nothing but a cloud of black fog where you once were.

And he’s alone once again.

You’d think he would’ve gotten used to it by now.


When you open your eyes again, you’re greeted by the sight of sunlight streaking through your windows.

You sit up and you find yourself in your bed, staring at the wall, confused.

It was a dream.

It had to be.

Your window is unbroken and the shadows are gone and you’re all alone and it was just a dream it was just a dream.

The boy – Luke. His world of nightmares. It was all just some part of a scheme from your overactive imagination.

The sunlight shines into your room and begins to melt away all of your confusion and your doubts, shining a light onto the new day ahead of you.

You shake your head and stretch before climbing out of bed and stumbling into your washroom, starting to prepare yourself for another long day of school.

It’s for the best, he thinks.

You didn’t belong there anyways.

The sunlight chases the last of the shadows away from your room, and he disappears once more.


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Life is Strange - Episode 4
  • Me: Aw man, that ending was intense! I can't wait to see how this ends! Alright, let's check out the choice statistics.
  • Me: *sees that you could have written on Warren's board*
  • Me: Wait, what?! *quickly looks it up online and sees how adorable it is*
  • Me: . . .
  • Me: I have to redo this episode immediately!
Child Storm (closed)


The Finalizer was making it’s way back to Starkiller Base. Just coming out of hyperspace it came face to face with a strange static storm. Light bounced through it. They tried to steer clear of it, but they had been too close. The star destroyer floating through the purple mist. The electricity that was produced from the storm hit against the Finalizer’s metal haul. It caused power outages throughout the ship. 

Kylo Ren was walking through the ship trying to clear his mind. He paused when he felt a massive pain course through his mind. He hissed in pain as it got more intense causing him to fall to his knees. The power flashed in the hallway he was in. One moment a grown man was there and the next a child in clothes to big for him. He then fell to the floor as he passed out. The hall going dark as he did so. 

The little boy waking shortly after the power was restored. He was scared. He had no idea where he was. He took the helmet off his head and found a storage room to hide in. He was began to cry. He wanted his mother.

jayminde  asked:




And with a rush of static, the three monitors went blank. 

Shikamaru stretched, rolling the chair back onto its hindlegs, a satisfied groan bursting through his lips. He knew his mother disliked it - said it gave away too much of his character, childish for a chunin. Granted, becoming a chunin at twelve was still a fantastic feat: and he argued that, back then, he still was a chunin regardless of his age. So he’d stretch if he wanted to. 

Two years later and that much hasn’t changed. Besides, a good third of the participants had passed, so he was done his part on his books. No more chunin, no more proctor, he was back to being Shikamaru Nara, fourteen years old, and tired. 

He saw an eyebrow beside him raise, a tinge of mirth on her face. In the back of his mind, maybe he’d question how easy it was to be that - Shikamaru, fourteen years old. Around Temari, seventeen, who upon first meeting wanted nothing to bash his face in. Her expression a mixture of impatience, bemusement, and unamusement, he was pretty sure he only continued to groan for her displeasure. 

Keep reading

Bedlam wouldn’t tell me what she and this demon were up to in her room, but that’s understandable. It was, after all, unspeakable~

Demons, like any other folks, aren’t necessarily evil so much as they are unpredictable. Fortunately, Bedlam herself is quite frequently unpredictable too. She’s very flexible with strange situations, and can bounce back from anything~