tattered soul

anonymous asked:

DA 2 romances seeing a mostly sober Hawke coming back from the bar injured, seriously bruised and bloodied; when asked what happened they admit they got into a brawl over someone insulting their lover?

Anders- Well, that should probably be expected, shouldn’t it? He’ll beckon you inside and begin to do what he can for the cuts and injuries, which is a lot with his skill. Afterward he will attempt to scold you, saying you should not have taken the words to heart in such a way…though he appreciates how you adamantly defend him. Not just in bar fights…but always. 

Fenris- You’d be lucky to escape his complaining now. You don’t need to go around fighting for him, he is plenty happy to let fools run their mouths, at least where he can’t hear. But now…now he has to go and double rough up whoever saw fit to roughhouse against you, if you haven’t already sent them to the makers side that is. 

Isabella- Lord help whomever laid a violent finger on you. She will take care of this. And…might end up banned for a few days for utterly ripping apart some rather dedicated paying customers. She can just crash with you though, right? If you think about it, it’s your fault, isn’t it? So…she can stay? Thanks,

Merrill- Oh no! Why would you go to such lengths? For her of all people! You’re in enough trouble there’s no to cause more on her behalf. Oh but…you were just being sweet weren’t you? Defending her from unkind words she wasn’t even there to hear…you must really love her don’t you…sweet Hawke. 

Sebastian-He doesn’t make it a point to pray for their obviously tattered and depraved souls. Seems you would have gotten them close enough to meeting the maker himself, something he isn’t too jealous of. You’ll receive a talking to about not starting bar brawls, mainly because it’s a place you could easily get an infected wound. 

A/N: I’m in an “what if” moods.

- - - - - - -

In his almost five and a half centuries he had never had a more soul enriching night. The nightmare that had been his life for the past fifty years was slowly being washed away by his family, by his mate.

It was times like this that fueled his passion, kept his dreamer’s soul alive, healed the scars.

He held her close. He had always loved flying, but flying with her in his arms made all his other flying experiences a shadow of happiness in comparison. He could spend the rest of his life like this.

He walked her to her room. He didn’t think before he did it or he would have stopped himself like he had the thousands of other times since under the mountain. As his lips touched her brow, the bond sung to him. His heart stopped for a second as he cherished this moment.

He moved to walk away towards his room, when he felt her grab his hand. She pulled him towards her, this has to be a dream. Her delicate hands reached for his face. He closes his eyes and let out a breath as her fingers brushed against his cheek. He leaned towards the touch, towards her. His knees wobbled as he felt her soft lips press against his, a soft gentle flick of her tongue, made him want to melt as they deepened the kiss.

He rested his forehead on hers, as he ran this thumb over her cheekbone. She was so beautiful, too beautiful for his tattered soul. He almost jumped when she whispered, “I have had some time to think of what I want.”

He would give her anything, even if it broke him, he would never deny her anything. “What is it you want, Feyre?”

“You … Just you.”

Rosaline didn’t always used to be so jaded. She used to be a lot like Livia, once upon a time when their parents were alive and their family was whole and she and Escalus had a seemingly promising future together, stuck in the haze of the honeymoon-phase of their flirtation/relationship. But then their parents were killed and Escalus left Verona without so much as a goodbye and she’s been made into the servant for her own cousin. Livia is the youngest, the burden of carrying their now family of two is on Rosaline’s shoulders, and she no longer has the luxury of seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses. She’s desperate to cling onto the simple things like reading for fun and having her own bed that she never realized she had taken for granted before, and has experienced first hand that she cannot depend on a man to care for her, not now that those same men are depending on her, not when they weren’t they when she needed them most.

(What does she want? She can’t even put into words all the intangible things she wants. But she knows what she doesn’t want, and it isn’t her old life where she had her head in the sand, and it’s not this life she has now where she can be given her away like an object to a man from the family that had taken her parents away, her family, her agency, by the order of the very man she had hoped would never see her that way. She wanted him, a man that would not define her but would re-write the world together.)


Those on the outside looking in would think that Benvolio had the life people could only dream of. Okay, his parents were dead before he really ever got to know them, but the weight of the family honour had always belonged to Romeo anyway, not him. He was ‘free’ to do whatever he wanted, and most of Verona believed he exercised that right consuming more liquor than water and spending more time in brothels than his own house and seeing women just for the night instead of for forever.  (But, to be fair, between his parents and the constantly dwindling numbers of the remaining Montague lineage he knows life is fleeting and who could fault him for living life to the fullest? And if he were to be betrothed to another, however long that might be considering, shouldn’t it be with someone he truly loved, or else what was the point? It wasn’t status or power or currency he would take to the grave, it was love.)

And he lost the only two people he loved within mere hours of one another—Mercutio and Romeo. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was now the heir his cousin was meant to be, albeit very begrudgingly on both his and his uncle’s part. But Mercutio had died because of this feud, and Romeo had hoped to stop the said feud with his marriage to Juliet, so the least he could do for them both was to agree to marry a Capulet, right? Except it had to be the one woman that did not fall for his manners and charm and it both infuriated and intrigued him. If nothing else, they shared the commonality of being used by their families, their city, like this, and maybe, somehow, in a distant future, that understanding would balm their tattered souls together. And not even the very Prince that put him in this position would deter him. Hell, it only fuelled him more.


Duty would always have to come first for Escalus; it was the price of the blood that ran through him. There was a time when he was still green behind the ears and his father was still in his prime and all that his title meant were elegant balls and people bowing at him and the city as his oyster. A time when he felt so bold as to be determined to tell his father that he would take Rosaline’s hand in marriage, for though she had a title it wasn’t quite royal but he would make sure it was enough. And then Rosaline’s parents were murdered and he had to leave at a time when she needed him the most, but it was because of the escalating turmoil between the Capulets and the Montagues that his father had sent him away, protecting his heir at all costs. But things outside their little bubble of a city were as golden as his father probably envisioned, and it was that debilitating fear that he carried with him upon his return to his father’s deathbed.

He did not expect things to be the same, not after all the time that had passed, but he also did not expect things to be so different, either, with what Rosaline being treated far less than she ever deserved and Verona literally burning all around him. He needed his fair city united, fighting the forces that threatened them beyond and not each other, and he truly believed he could solve two problems at once when he had suggested the union of Benvolio and his beloved Rosaline. Benvolio was a decent man, he made sure to be certain of that, and it would elevate Rosaline back to her previous status. But she didn’t want that, she told him, and her kiss left him wanting, regretting, and now all three of them knew that he was failing in his duty.

Shadows and Time; An Azriel Fanfiction

I put this on fanfiction.net but couldn’t post it separately on here until now!

@underthe-mountain  and I bounced around ideas about Rhys’s sister being Azriel’s mate before she was murdered and she came up with this plot line.

I’ve always headcanoned this just because I want to so please don’t come after me. I KNOW it has no book evidence, it’s just fun to imagine. So no yelling please. Just enjoy :)

He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t nervous.

Stop lying to yourself, the shadows whispered to him. Tendrils of darkness and silhouette curled around his broad shoulders, creeping up his neck in a midnight caress. We see you. You’re afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid of the one who sees us and doesn’t send us away. Why? Why are you afraid? We’re not afraid of her.

Azriel shoved away his shadows with pure determination and will that had been forged in the heart of the Illyrian Steppes.

Those shadows did not control him, he controlled them. And today he didn’t need them whispering in his ear. Not when he was going to see her. Not when he was going to see Nissa.

Azriel had convinced himself that telling Rhys would be the part that required the most courage.

How exactly does one tell his best friend that he is mates with his sister?

Keep reading

A Olicity Historical AU:  Touch can be so much more than just, physical.

A/N: Thank you so much to the incredibly wonderful @quiveringbunny for making this fantastic edit for my story. I love it.

I’m sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted.  Thank you for being so patient with me.  I hope you enjoy it.  Also, one of my lovely readers correctly pointed out that Felicity should be addressed as Lady and not Miss., my apologies for not catching that.  I’m usually much better at details…I have corrected all previous chapters. 

Previous chapters can be read HERE or Ao3.


Chapter 3

Felicity’s body hummed with low key adrenaline as she lay in her sky blue silk draped canopy bed.  Thank goodness William had brought her straight to their London townhouse after she had pled a migraine.  The house was quiet and still, in the early morning hour, unlike her mind.

Keep reading

Dear Steroliners

I have been lurking the steroline tag and your beautiful gifs/metas/fan fictions for awhile now. I don’t have my own tumblr/twitter presence, and I’ve never felt the need to weigh in until now, other than some random asks I’ve thrown at kmze. But it must be said, or it will continue to haunt me: this finale was completely bogus and should be thrown in the dumpster. I felt like maybe writing this out will help me get over the tragic and senseless end of those two adorable puppies, Stefan and Caroline. So here it goes.

There was so much NOPE in this finale it’s hard to know where to start, but I’m going to focus on the most obvious: Stefan’s death.

I don’t object to the notion that a Salvatore brother had to die. They’ve evaded death for far too long, and left way too many bodies in their wake. I don’t think any of us expected both the Salvatore brothers to make it out of this show alive. Would I have preferred it to be Damon that died, or at least to have the brothers both go out in a blaze of glory? Fuck yes. But I could have handled Stefan dying, and Damon living, had it been handled in a way that made even a shred of sense. It was not.

A sacrificial death, when done right, can be a very fitting way for a show to go out. See: Spike on Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s finale. 15 year old me shipped Buffy and Spike (I know, I know, quite a toxic relationship, but moving on). So I was bummed as heck when Spike died in the finale. But the way he went out was just so damn fitting I could not be that mad. He sacrificed himself to save Buffy, to save the Slayer-ettes and the rest of the Scoobies, and literally the entire world. It was necessary and rooted in the plot and was therefore heroic and did a heck of a lot to redeem him of his terrible deeds. It fit the narrative, it fit the character’s arc, and it was satisfying, which took the edge off the tragedy.

Now, let’s compare that to Stefan’s death shall we? Was his death necessary to save the world? Nope. It was not even necessary to save Mystic Falls, since Bonnie had found a way to control the hellfire and send it to hell, or at least divert it. It was arguably necessary to kill Katherine and destroy Hell, but like, there’s nothing particularly noble about destroying Hell? There were tons of bad people in Hell, people that should arguably have stayed in Hell and not been given a “get out of Hell free” card. There did seem to be some not terrible people stuck in Hell (Vicky was irritating but not evil) but maybe since Cade was dead this whole policy of throwing everyone who ever screwed up once in their lives, into eternal torment, no longer applied? Katherine is a cut-throat queen but I don’t see her being this petty. Unclear, but either way this Hell mythology was just too murky for a set-up wherein destroying Hell equals redemption. So far, I fail to see how this action redeemed Stefan’s tattered soul and granted him his peace.

Okay so let’s assume I’ve missed something. (I very well could have. I only watched the finale once and I doubt I’ll ever be able to bring myself to watch it again.) Let’s assume for the sake of argument that in fact the whole “stabbing Katherine with the dagger at the very moment she is immolated thus ensuring she dies in Hell and Hell is destroyed” was a very necessary and heroic act in the grand scheme of things. So at least one of the Salva-bros had to die. The choice of who gets the axe should be based in the narrative, yes? Maybe the brother who showed up in Mystic Falls in season 1, all gleeful about tormenting his brother and making the residents of Mystic Falls suffer, would be a good choice for the one who ultimately saves the town? Whose ongoing arc has been about becoming a better, less-selfish man, one capable of putting his brother before his own needs? Who, two episodes before, had proven that he was ready to be that hero, and had died in a similar sacrifice, but had miraculously come back from it with no explanation? Maybe the writers had a plan? HAHA BITCH YOU THOUGHT.

Instead, Stefan dies because “Damon is the better man.” Hahahahahah lol lol lol brb LAUGHING FOREVER. I don’t need to list the many actions/character traits that Damon has displayed over the years, that make it emphatically clear that he is not the better man. At best he is the equally-as-terrible man. Stefan killed Enzo, yes, which was painful, mainly because of its effect on Bonnie (Enzo was also a murderous trashbag, let us never forget). But Damon killed Tyler, tried to kill Bonnie, and abducted a couple of 4 year olds and tried to sell them to the Devil in return for his own soul, and that was just in season 8. I can’t even remember all the times he killed Alaric and Jeremy, I have literally lost count. Many of you have already covered Damon’s many crimes in your well-reasoned and thoughtful metas and commentaries. They do not need repeating. Damon is a selfish, impulsive, weak-willed, predatory psycho murderer. We have the receipts in the form of seasons 1-8 of this show. I say this as someone who is actually a big Damon fan (I like his snark) and was all about Damon and Elena in seasons 1-4, despite how terrible they were to Stefan. (The actors had lit chemistry back then, sue me.)

Stefan is a psycho murderer too, but at least he feels bad about it. I invite anyone to explain to me how saving Damon, and giving him a human life, tilted the karmic scales in Stefan’s favour. One mass-murderer dying, so that another mass-murderer can live, does not redeem the first mass-murderer, particularly when the major crime the first mass-murderer seems to be paying for, is the murder of a THIRD MASS-MURDERER (Enzo). I just refuse to believe that the universe’s sense of justice is this out to fucking lunch.  

Also, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the most glaring plot hole in this clusterfuck of a sacrifice=redemption narrative, which is obviously that DAMON DIDN’T HAVE TO DO SHIT TO FIND REDEMPTION/PEACE. NOTHING NADA ZILCH. Thus undermining the entire justification for Stefan’s death. Dear god, what a mess.

I can sort of see how in Stefan’s deeply troubled mind dying for his brother would redeem him, because he loved the shit out of his brother, despite how rarely Damon actually deserved that love. Which brings us to another high-key problematic aspect of this finale, which is the assassination of Stefan’s character development. Over 8 seasons, we watched Stefan struggle with his mental illness, his addiction, his complete lack of self-worth, and most importantly, his suicidal tendencies. Once he was able to remove himself from the Triangle of Doom, he actually made a lot of progress! He stopped referring to the Ripper in the third person, he got a handle on the whole blood thing, and when he finally opened his eyes about Caroline, he found a healthy, happy, mutually supportive relationship for pretty much the first time in his entire life. He didn’t ever fully let go of his dependency on Damon, but by the time season 8 started, he was planning a life with Caroline and clearly heading in that direction. His suicidal tendencies made a come-back, thanks to killing Enzo and the guilt that caused him, but by 8x13 he was like I WANNA LIVE, by 8x14 he was re-proposing to Caroline and talking about growing old, and by 8x15 he was effing married to the love of his life and dancing and laughing with her at their wedding.

Then 8x16 comes around, and suddenly, he’s back to “I HAVE TO DIE BECAUSE OF WHAT I DID TO ENZO AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO MAKE UP FOR MY SINS BECAUSE I’M HUMAN AND DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME BUT DAMON YOU HAVE ETERNITY AND YOU’RE THE BETTER MAN” and I’m like THA FUCK? Did I imagine the previous 15 episodes/the previous 5 seasons? Is this the right channel? WHAT IS HAPPENING WHERE AM I RIGHT NOW?  

There are also so many plot holes when it comes to discerning Stefan’s own motivation for this sacrifice, directly out of the dialogue and HIS OWN DAMN MOUTH. He tells Damon that he has “an eternity with Elena” to make up for his own sins. But Stefan’s actions were definitely pre-meditated right? He knew he was going to give Damon the cure, so obviously Damon will not have an eternity to make up for his own crimes? Also Elena is a human now and Damon has been droning on about their human endgame plan for like 5 years now, ever since Elena went into her mystical coma? And then my personal favourite, when Stefan talks to Elena, he tells her he wanted her to have the chance to get to know human Damon. BUT EXCUSE ME as far as he knew Elena was stuck in the mystical coma until Bonnie dies, which everyone assumed would be 60-70 years from then, so seeing as how Damon will age and probably be dead by the time Elena wakes up, or at least very wrinkly and very old, how does he figure he is giving Damon and Elena their happily ever after? As far as Stefan knows, or at least SHOULD KNOW relying on concepts like logic and common sense, he just took away both Damon’s right to choose to die, AND Damon’s happily ever after with Elena, and this is full circle and remedies his original sin of forcing Damon to turn into a vampire and I’m just !?!??!!? I’M PHRASING THESE AS QUESTIONS BECAUSE I LEGIT WANT A FUCKING EXPLANATION SOMEONE PLS HELP.  

Oh and btw the whole Stefan sacrificing himself for Damon and Elena and making up for his original sin of forcing Damon to turn, was so effing murky in the actual episode it had to be explained in interviews by KW and JP, at which point KW made it clear that this entire nightmare happened because he is a 14 year old Stelena fanboy and didn’t watch the last 5 seasons of his own damn show AND NOW I’M ACTUALLY LAUGHING IT’S ALL SO RIDICULOUS.

So, cool. Stefan is dead, Caroline is widowed on her effing wedding day, I am emotionally gutted, and basically this all happened for virtually no reason my brain can discern. Very epic, so fitting, what a pay-off, much full-circle, argaahgaahfTHEFUCK.

When Caroline left him that voicemail, I couldn’t even enjoy the “I will love you forever” line because she also said “I understand” and I was like OMIGOD CAROLINE PLS EXPLAIN IT OUT LOUD CAUSE I SURE AS FUCK DON’T.

And even after all this, the writers are not QUITE done making a mockery out of the notion of consistency in story-telling. They decide that the last scene featuring Caroline Forbes-Salvatore, a character whose strongest traits are her loyalty to the people she loves and moral backbone, and who was widowed like 5 minutes ago from the viewer’s perspective, should be spent with Caroline receiving a letter from a murderous one-night-stand she does not GAF about. For the cherry-on-top, anyone who watches the Originals knows that the one-night-stand is currently suffering some sort of hell torment and hallucinating his actual true love, one Camille O’Connor. AND THEN THE WRITERS HAVE TO GO ON TWITTER to try and explain how the fuck this timeline could possibly make sense and Joseph Morgan is like “I’ve filmed all of season 4 lol what letter?” and I’m laughing again because this is total amateur-hour. Thank you to all the twitter users who have been dragging this joke of a writing team online, your salt is giving me life. Never has a moment of such cheap and blatant fan-baiting backfired so magnificently. I was planning on watching the Originals when it comes back but HAHA NOPE NEVER AGAIN JULIE PLEC, BACK TO THE DUMPSTER WITH YOU.

Anyways, this rant got out of hand. The point here is that I feel justified in completely ignoring this entire finale because of how little sense it made or even attempted to make. I’m sad a show I’ve loved for 8 years ended on such an absurd and poorly-plotted note. Perhaps I’ll eventually get around to writing some fan fiction in an attempt to create my own little alternative ending. In retrospect, I probably should have known better, but I hung in there because when TVD was good, it was really good. But damn, when it was bad, it was truly unwatchable.

Stefan and Caroline forever.

iggys-specs  asked:

our beautiful broken boy kotaro and him being happy with the mc. idc how i just want him to be happy. maybe she tells him he loves him for the first time. or they just spent the whole day together and they're just happy, idk i just want fluff

Yes! I hope this little drabble brightens your day~

I tried experimenting on a different stream of consciousness than normal, because I feel like Fuma is on his own wavelength. 

But I had a lot of fun writing this! So I hope you like it. 


It was odd, being here like this. The gentle breeze stirring the wildflowers into whimsical dance that caught her eye and she was sure that this place was paradise. That nothing else in this life would be as beautiful as this moment.

Someone called her name and she turned her head, a smile playing on her lips, one reflected in his own unusually carefree gaze.

“Kotaro.” The young woman breathed, grasping at his open hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

And if his gaze never left her, never once strayed to the beautiful scene around them, she didn’t notice.

“No I haven’t.” His voice held a note of wavering joy, something it had done more in the last few months than in his entire miserable life. How could some like him have sound such happiness?

Still, as though noticing his negative thoughts she reaches up, straining on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, falling against him when gravity proves to be her undoing.

He catches her, and swears in his heart that he will always catch her, that he’ll be the only one to catch her and keep her safe. Even lowly worms, going for nothing but killing, have purposes and perhaps he has two. One of those is to kill Saizo, a thought that causes a desperate ache in his head and a burning on his flesh. The other is to keep her safe and to love her, a thought that soothes his tattered soul and brings him back to the present.

He doesn’t ask her if the men back at Takeda’s castle know where she is, or how she spends her days off.

As time has passed he’s decided it doesn’t matter, so long as he gets to see her, to touch her in complete freedom.

Of course she’s prepared everything ahead of time, he only picked the location. He’s never met someone so caring all his days. There is a blanket, food that she’s made, and her, the most precious of all, who having escaped his arms is perched on the blanket and holding a bite of food on her chopsticks.

“Wanna taste?”

He barely had time to nod before she thrust the food into his mouth, watching him expectantly. Her face was so serious, and he couldn’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat as he swallowed.

Her expressions were always so funny.

So he laughed, and she giggled.

Everything felt so right when he was with her.

The afternoon passed, quickly and slowly, in quiet and soft talking and loud laughter.

He remembered a moment from childhood, a brief idyllic scene, and it puts his hands to work, weaving a flower crown for his beloved, placing it in her hair and declaring her queen of his heart. Her blush, and the soft kiss that followed taking route in his heart as one of many precious memories he’s made with her.

She weaves him one too, a clumsy thing, and her pretty blush only deepens as she sets it on his head, as she wipes his tears away.

She’s too good for him, he knows.

But still she kisses him, and kisses him, till night falls and their day is at an end.

Till he sees her tucked into her futon, and till he whispers himself back into the darkness.

He loves her.

[you put your arms around me and i’m] home

right so, i blame this, because reasons

Chloe Decker has known what she would see.

She’s known all along. She always has. Somewhere.

Her fingers curl into the raw, ragged curve of his cheek, the redness of the scarred and ravaged flesh. His eyes are still his own, staring out at her in something between terror and disbelief and tenderness, as he stands as tense as a wild animal, waiting for her disdain. Waiting for her to flee.

“Am I hurting you?”

Lucifer blinks as if he’s been drugged. “Are you – what?”

“Am I hurting you?” Chloe’s fingers hesitate in their path, prepared to pull away if he answers in the affirmative. “Is this okay?”

“You’re… not… Detective, I thought…”

“I know,” Chloe says quietly. He doesn’t seem to be flinching (perhaps he hasn’t noticed) so her hands stay where they are. She’s almost laughing, if it didn’t hurt so much, that he really thought this was going to matter. “And haven’t we established by now that, well, you’re not the greatest at figuring out what is really going on?”

“Well, I…” Once again, Mr. Quip-For-Every-Occasion can’t finish the sentence. “Chloe…”

“Shhh.” She leans her forehead against his, the devil and the divine miracle, the son of God and His very breath, there together in the stillness of the penthouse, Los Angeles rushing onwards very far away below. “Lucifer, shh.”

Her hand comes up to caress the back of his neck, thumbing over the roughness of the burned skull. She feels a sigh shudder through him to the very depths of his old, battered, tattered soul. She doesn’t move, or speak. At last, she whispers, “So, the horns are definitely just a story?”

Lucifer sounds utterly startled. “Horns? Why?”

“I just….” Chloe’s cheeks go rather pink, and she giggles unsteadily as she looks up at him again, doesn’t want him to think she’d ever want to be anywhere but looking at him, no matter what he looks like (and it is just like Lucifer, the man who has lived his human life so superficially, to think that looks were the be-all and end-all). “I had a dream where you had them, and I didn’t, um. I didn’t mind.”

“Really?” There he is, just for a second, her Lucifer, hers, where any hint at all that she thinks about him, that she wants him around, can make his entire day. “You were dreaming about me, Detective?”

“Mm-hmm.” Chloe bumps their noses together. Her voice is slightly coy when she breathes, “Want to know more?”

“I…” Lucifer, still completely flabbergasted, gasps a breath, and grins. Then in the next instant the burned mask of the broken man is gone, and it’s him again, the gentle brown eyes and the rough dark stubble and the curl of hair against the nape of his neck, the indent in his chin and the slightly too-long nose, the face she has memorized every detail of. “I am rather intrigued.”

“Come on.” Chloe takes hold of his hand and leads him to the couch, where they collapse together, side by side, as if their legs have simultaneously run out of the ability to hold them up. She’s afraid of him skittering and throwing up his walls and running again, but he doesn’t move, and finally, slowly, as he’s done for her so many times, she reaches out to put her arms around him, shielding his larger body with her smaller one, drawing his head down onto her lap as she plays with his hair. The sigh that escapes from him then is the very breath of life, moving over the dark waters, in the instant before the light, and the world, began.

“Horns,” Lucifer murmurs at last, into her thigh. “That’s really what you’ve taken away from all this.”

“You are the Devil.” Chloe leans down to kiss his cheek. “And I’d be just fine if you had a tail to boot.”



hamelin-born  asked:

Oooh, a random OT3 story where Anakin literally removes Obi-Wan's soul, or keeps an iron grasp on the physical manifestation of Obi-Wan's soul... Forgive me, I'm very low on sleep. Hmmm... Maybe something resembling a daemon!verse? Where people talk about soulless!Ben, or imply that his daemon is just tiny and hiding - while Obi-Wan, any time he wants to see his soul, can just turn on the holo and watch the physical manifestation thereof parade alongside Lord Vader with empty eyes... (cont)

Obi-Wan striking Anakin down only to have his soul remain with the burnt, broken remnant of the one he loved? With Vader’s own daemon - nonexistent? (Maybe part of Sith training is repudiating it, or Severing it from oneself?) Vader killed his own soul (killed Anakin’s daemon), Obi-Wan’s took its place… (Except, just at the very end, on the Death Star mark II, something glimmers, and Anakin’s soul manifests for the first time in twenty years to twine with Obi-Wan’s…

*cackles* Completely evil idea: Obi-Wan and Anakin end up switching souls on Mustafer. Anakin’s tattered, Sidious-wounded soul fleeing to Obi-wan’s side, screaming because he is - they are - I cannot have -What have I done - what have I become - Master brother Obi-Wan help me stop me I am lost -

And Obi-wan’s soul is shattered when Obi-Wan turns away. It refuses. It refuses, this is his brother, it will not leave him to burn. The galaxy itself can burn first, but Sidious will not have him. Not alone, not like this, not this terrible parting. This is Anakin, brother-student-beloved, Sidious cannot have him. If the dark is the only way to follow him, so be it.

You deserve it. Everything in this world. Things like love and friendship and not a corner with walls and self destruction. Mistakes happen. It’s not purposeful. We are not at fault, this world has a mind of its own sometimes. Destiny too. They twist and turn, they test you. Endure. Slowly, softly. You will live, tattered soul maybe.
But just because your path was vicious, does not mean you choose to be unloved, stray away from the society. You deserve everything the world can give. You deserve someone new, helping you. Live.

kristeristerin  asked:

Did you know there were extra songs on the 10th anniversary edition of Pocahontas? I didn't until today! You should use the song "If I never knew you" to write a drabble. :D

Hey! So I posted this to ffnet and forgot to post it here. For the final challenge I did a “true” 100 word drabble based off one of John’s lines in the song. (ON mobile so excuse formating)


His solemn vow. That he would always love her and she would always be his forever. Through war and each difficult day after, his promise had been the altar on which he had laid his tattered soul, honoring her with a sacrifice of his tears and fervent pleas for forgiveness in hope to end the shame he still carried.

It was the same promise he was now breaking.

He stood gripping his leather briefcase, the one with his name embossed near the top, and waited for her sobs to quiet down enough to hear him.

“Dora, I’ve met someone…”

Thank you!


He’s been running from Lucifer for days, changing direction on the fly, like it might make some kind of difference. Wherever the rip was before it closed is miles behind him, lost in the landscape of grey and lifeless hills, draped with bodies.

It’s the worst, most jarring deja vu. Hell and Purgatory and Detroit all rolled into one. Dean feels like he’s breaking apart at the seams, fracturing into three different people all at once. A torturer and a killer and a fearless leader.

None of them good. 

He walks, and he drinks from streams that smell like sulfur but the water is clear. And he hasn’t shit his brains out, so there’s that. 

Dean walks, through battles of Heaven and Hell, through demons twisted into something real, something more than tattered souls. He walks, and he walks, and he walks

Until he catches sight of a pair of wings wreathed in chain lightning. His feet carry him without thought to stand in front of a Warrior of God, impossibly wearing that same vessel, those same eyes even as he drives his sword clean through a demon. 

Maybe he’ll die here. It’d be a fair trade for what he cost his own angel. But Dean walks without thought, but with purpose, closer and closer still until that angel’s blade clatters to the dirt. 

There are no recognition in heavenly blue eyes, but Cas lets him lift his hand, lets Dean bunch up the material of his shirt and curl them over the mark that’s been left on his skin, on his soul.

When the angel asks who are you? All Dean hears is who am I?

“…you’re the one who saved me.”

I “stumbled” upon your account today and saw something that scraped the remains of my tattered soul. You tagged her in a photo of two lovers; I almost didn’t recognize that it was you. It’s only been some months but it feels like two years. I don’t doubt your happiness with her. I’m sure you’ve told her about me, the delusional, childish, regressive ‘ex something’.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #907 // i hope your heart ached when talked about me