that face will haunt my nightmares

On Jakku, she’d etched marks into her home, etched marks into the wreckages she had raided and claimed, and now, she’d etched a mark into the Monster’s face that haunted her nightmares, her daydreams. Mine, mine, mine. Always a scavenger of broken things.

I love/hate TFA because I ended up with three new ships, one of which apparently is Problematic™ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Anyways, here’s my contribution to the amazing Reylo fandom!

anonymous asked:

Hi, Saori! I see you blog a lot about Sterek and I was wondering if you read fanfiction too? If yes, can you rec me some fics to read? If not, can you recommend a blog that you think recs good fics? I find your taste in Larry fics similar to mine and I was hoping you can do the same with Sterek as well. Thank you!

Oh boy, honestly I have no idea what to say, I’m just glad that not everybody’s fed up with my Sterek spams (probably a lot of people are but oh well) :D

First things first, you should check out @theofficialstereklibrary @wheredidhiseyebrowsgo @underappreciatedsterek @acountrygirlsfun @christinesficrecs @eternalsterekrecs and if you like Larry too then @nottooldforthisship recces  awesome stuff all the time, (her sterek fic rec tag is a blessing) (my fic rec page is kind of a mess, but you can find some there too)

As of my recs, I usually don’t do it cuz I’m always anxious I’ll rec something the other doesn’t like, but since you asked so nicely here are some of my faves:

The Undisclosed (109k) - For once the pack doesn’t panic when a new hunter arrives. The gleefully sadistic man has labelled himself a collector of all things rare in the supernatural world and wants one of the rarest creatures; a werefox. Content that the pack is safe, the wolves focus on why their human member is acting so strange, ignoring the fact that Stiles only started once learning who the man wanted…

I’ve read this like, how many times? Way too many to be healthy? Seems accurate. And I’m totally not re-reading it again, nope.

Baking My Way Into Your Heart (179k) - Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

This fic changed my life tbh.

As Luck Would Have It (I’m already smitten) (188k, WIP) - When Stiles meets his Dom for the first time, it’s nothing like the cutesy, lovey-dovey Subflicks he used to drag Scott to when they were thirteen. There’s no burst of sunshine when they collide, no sudden swell of violins when their eyes meet; only a really big dent in the front of his Jeep and a seriously pissed off Alpha glaring at him from the sidewalk.

When I see the e-mail I shut down and don’t even look up until I finished reading the update. It’s by far the most exciting fic I’ve read, and I read A LOT.

Do Not Go Gentle (108k, WIP) - Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha, is thrown into a dark cell which already contains another captive.   Someone quite young.   Someone who’s clearly been badly treated.  Someone who cannot speak and who has a cruel collar around his neck.Derek is both a Dom and an Alpha.  What do you think he’ll do?

Same with this. Mondays can’t come fast enough. Dark, but worth it for me.

Home (160k, WIP) - January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

You can’t even imagine what this fic does to me. It’s everything.

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Make You Feel My Love

Summary: Based on Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love,” you shower Bucky with affection and love when he needs it. 

Word Count: 2,646 (without lyrics)

Warnings: None.

A/N: Enjoy! Positive feedback is loved and appreciated! Each scene of this fic represent a verse and so on. Let me know what you all think :D 

Originally posted by hoechlins

When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

Grey clouds brought an ill omen with them and you could feel the cold seep through the thick, glass windows of the Avengers’ Tower and into your bones. Shivering, you wandered into Bucky’s room and fetched one of his hoodies, smiling softly as you put it on and were immediately surrounded by his scent. He smelled of generic soap and the mint gum he liked to chew whenever he was nervous, but to you that was home and you reveled in this.

Stepping out into the hallway and to the kitchen, you stared out to the city with a frown on your face. They should have been back already, but so far, there was no sign of the quinjet. You hadn’t gone to this mission because of your bruised ankle, everyone had thought it was best you stay behind and recuperate. Even though you had initially disagreed with them, you eventually gave in to their pressure and stayed behind, glad you had done so. A week alone had done wonders to help relax you and your ankle was almost back to normal.

The only bad thing about this arrangement was that Bucky was not around. And you missed him a great deal. Enough to have you both Skyping every night and staying online until one of the others grabbed the phone from Bucky and demand he sleep, that his giggles and whispers to you kept everyone else in the room awake.

Keep reading

And the bruises may have healed
And I never have to see you again,
But the bruise on my heart will forever remain,
Your face will always haunt my nightmares
And your betrayal will always tear me apart,
And to me that’s worse than any physical pain you ever inflicted on me.
—  charleigh aleyna.

even to this day, nightmare lobsters still fuck me up, but who would have said that monster crustaceans would come haunt my ass after so long??? in my defense I want to think those who know me already knew this was gonna happen at some point, now excuse me while I hit my face against my door

Easter, Harry and Draco

Read the intro here

It’s easter at Hogwarts. Fred and George are both alive and kicking. They have decided that since Umbridge left, this might be a good moment to re-do their last year and cheer all the traumatized war-veterans up with some top quality pranks.

And maybe play matchmaker for a couple or two.


Harry and Draco

“Why are we even participating in this stupid Weasley contest?” It was the first thing Malfoy said after he’d stalked off towards the forbidden forest. Harry had so far not even been sure if they were participating or if Malfoy just fancied a walk and Harry was tagging along. Or stalking him.

“Uhm… I dunno. Because it’s fun?” It wasn’t meant to be witty or sarcastic. Harry really didn’t know why they were taking part in the hunt. Especially since the price they could win wasn’t something either one of them was able to use. At least, Harry thought it wasn’t.

“Last time I had proper fun was fifth year, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” The depressing content of Malfoy’s answer went right past Harry, who was still a bit lost in thought.

“Are you single?”

“Am I what, Potter?” They had reached the edge of the forest. Malfoy turned around to stare at Harry in surprise and disbelief, with a still lingering flicker of sadness in his eyes. It was the last question he’d expected Potter to ask.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Harry clarified, a bit flustered.

“I know what ‘being single’ means, idiot.” Malfoy turned around again to enter the forest. “But it’s a rather foolish question to ask a gay ex-death eater with PTSD, who is covered in scars and in general not considered to be a very nice person, don’t you think?” After a short pause he added, “Who the hell would want to date me?”

His pace quickened while he spoke. He had never disclosed his sexuality to anyone outside of Slytherin, and he wasn’t really sure why he suddenly came out to Potter. Though Draco supposed the boy could hardly hate him more than he already did, and if there was anything he’d learned from the war then it was shielding himself from spells aimed at his back.

But Potter didn’t respond at all, so Draco could safely continue walking. Well, I suppose silence is still a much better response than the curses my father flung at my head.

It wasn’t the fact that Malfoy had just admitted he was gay that rendered Harry speechless. His often theatrical behaviour and flamboyant mannerisms made it hard to not at least suspect. It was the casual mentioning of suffering from PTSD. Harry had been struggling with nightmares, old reflexes and anxiety every day since the war had ended, but not even Ron or Hermione knew he was seeing a therapist for that. No one did.

He’d never even thought of the possibility of just carelessly mentioning the state of his mental health, of just being open about it. It felt almost good to hear Malfoy say he was struggling, however selfish that sounded.

Suddenly Harry realised he hadn’t responded to Malfoy’s revelation. “What about Zabini?”

Malfoy laughed, relieved the tense silence was broken. “Blaise the ace. A good friend but he’d never be interested in more. Besides, he’s not my type.”


“Hells no. Guy’s as straight as they come and still not my type.” Draco was surprised at the amount of relief that flooded him when the other boy didn’t seem phased at all to find out he was gay. So surprised he gave genuine answers to his questions.

“What is your type then?”

“None of your business.” Draco was now over his surprise enough to prevent himself from giving a truthful answer. He could barely admit his type to himself, the last thing he wanted to do was tell Potter. “Why do you care anyway? The goal was finding some stupid egg not playing matchmaker.”

“I think you’ll find Fred and George disagree with you on that. Didn’t you see the other pairings?”

“They were mostly Slytherin and Gryffindor, your point?”

“My point is that they’re trying to make us get along. They’re pretty fed up with fighting now I suppose. We all are. And forcing us to hang out might stop the quarrels amongst our lower years as well.”

Sometimes it seemed like the first years hated each other with the same passion as Harry and Draco did at that age. It was very confronting to see their childhood feud damage the relationship between their houses so much.

“You didn’t think of that yourself, did you?” Draco cursed himself for missing the obvious. The sharp edges of his trademark wit had faded since he was on meds for his anxiety and nightmares. He often cursed how much they slowed down his thoughts. But then, not taking them wasn’t very pleasant either.

“No.” Harry blushed a bit and looked at his feet. “Hermione did.”

They were silent again after that, but this time it was a bit more bearable. Almost nice.

“Why are we in the woods exactly?” Asked Harry after five more minutes of walking among the trees. They were following the edge of the forest, where the sun shone through the fresh spring leaves, drawing patterns on the path.

“To find those bloody eggs of course.”

“But we haven’t searched anywhere yet, just walked.”

“That’s because I know where they hid one of them. I saw Lee and the twins come out of the forest here this morning. So if I remember correctly….” Draco craned his neck, searching the trees with his trained seeker eyes. “There.” And with a surprising ease for someone in skinny jeans and highly polished shoes he started to climb a huge oak tree standing next to the path.

Harry noticed a golden shimmer among the highest branches of the tree. “Are you sure you can climb that high? I don’t particularly fancy catching you.”

“Nice to hear you’d be happy to let me fall to my death, and yes, I can climb that high. I might be shit at making the right choices or getting people to like me, but if there’s one thing I’ve mastered beyond fucking perfection it’s climbing trees.” It appeared to be true. Already Draco was twenty feet up in the fifty feet tree and he showed no sign of slowing down when the branches thinned and started to creak under his weight.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Of course I’d catch you if you fell!” Shouted Harry back in the direction of the fine ass that steadily moved up in the tree. Draco was now so high speaking at a normal volume would be inaudible.

“I’m not saying you did mean it like that Potter.” Draco raised his voice now too, he had nearly reached the egg. “It’s just that I probably wouldn’t catch myself if I did fall.” But he let his volume drop so Harry wouldn’t be able to hear the last part.

At least, that’s what he thought.

“Catch!” Draco dropped the egg into Harry’s arms. Harry nearly let it crash to the ground because he’d only now began to process what Malfoy had told him. He hadn’t had any real fun since fifth year, suffered from PTSD, apparently wouldn’t mind dying and on a whole he just looked quite alone and miserable. It didn’t sound like much fun.

“Well, let’s see what’s in it then.” Draco climbed down the tree even faster than up. Harry didn’t respond again, so Draco took matters into his own hands.

He made a displeased sound when he finished reading the note. “If we want to win this thing we have to hold hands for 24 hours. Non-stop. No separate bathroom breaks, no separate showers, no separate beds.” Draco didn’t look thrilled at the thought. “Look, we don’t have to do this. If you want to have a date with someone I could arrange some…”

But he was quickly cut off. Harry had come to a decision. The idea of the twins to bring the houses closer together had seemed rather foolish first. A stupid search for easter eggs surely couldn’t bridge the huge gap between Slytherin and Gryffindor. But then, he’d already learned more about Draco during the past half hour than he ever thought he would. He grabbed Draco’s hand.

“Shut it and suck it Malfoy. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next 24 hours.”

It wasn’t as bad as Draco initially thought it would be. It was much much worse. “No Potter. Just no. I am not okay with this. I will not be seen with you if you keep wearing that.”

Draco sounded properly horrified, but that just made Harry more determined to keep wearing his Weasley sweater. It was the only item he owned that had a zipper on the side so he could put it on without letting go of Draco’s hand. Mrs. Weasley had made it for him so he’d have an easier time changing when he injured himself during quidditch.

Now that all the eggs had been found the twins had called everyone to the three broomsticks to announce the winners. Draco had insisted they’d change outfits first but he was starting to regret that decision more and more with every passing minute.

He’d had no problem with putting on something different since the hand-holding didn’t obstruct magically changing clothes, but Harry didn’t know how to do that and Draco knew better than to step in and help. The one time he tried that it had gone terribly askew and the image of a half-naked Vincent Crabbe still haunted his nightmares sometimes.

“Why not? It’s either this or a house elf style tea towel.” The smug smile Harry got from annoying Draco would probably be the death of him.

“Oh my god, Potter. I will literally kill myself if you’re going to wear a fucking tea towel.”

“Really? You don’t think I could pull it off? I thought it would accentuate my hips perfectly.”

Draco face palmed himself. “Kill me. Just fucking kill me now. I’m forced to hold hands with with Harry fucking Potter who thinks he looks sexy in a tea towel. And here I was thinking my life couldn’t get any worse.”

“At least you don’t have to spent the entire evening with hair hanging in your face. I can’t put mine in a bun with one hand.” And Harry made a failed attempt to blow his long hair out of his face to prove his point.

“Yeah, right. You have it much worse than me. As always” Draco rolled his eyes. Harry snorted.

“Okay. That’s it. Dress in a fucking potato sack? Fine. Complain about your riddikulus hair? Go ahead. But I am not getting laughed at.” Before Harry could apologize or call Draco a drama queen he was violently shoved face first against the wall of his dormitory.

“What the…?”

“Shut it, Potter.” Draco twisted Harry’s arm behind his back and in one smooth movement grabbed all of Harry’s hair in his free hand. With a whispered wandless spell a magical ring appeared to tie it all together. As a petty revenge Draco pulled it much tighter than necessary.

“So. Happy now?” He released Harry’s arm from its twisted position while continuing to hold hands.

“Sort of. It’s a bit too tight if I’m being hone… Ow!” Draco had pulled Harry’s hair again.

“You’re an absolute asrehole, you know that Potter?” Harry rubbed the back of his head.

“Nope. But you have until tomorrow afternoon to remind me.”

“Prick.” Draco sighed.

“Git.” Shot Harry back as he stuck out his tongue at him. It felt good to banter with each other over the tiny things. And when they walked hand-in-hand towards the three broomsticks Harry saw Draco smile a bit from the corner of his eyes.

It might not be a perfect solution to all of their problems, but at least Draco could have some proper fun bitching to Harry the entire night, and Harry discovered he found that worth much more than a too tight ponytail or a sore shoulder.

I personally think this one is the funniest of the three, but that’s probably just my weird sense of humour.

And this isn’t the last part yet! Just the last part of today. I will still write something about the winners announcement at the three broomsticks, including a whole new ship…

Safe at Last (Part 1):

(Originally called Feysand Fic Part 1)

Okay guys, so the fanfic I’ve been working on is finally here! I have posted it in parts and also on AO3 for your convenience. As said in my earlier post I’m tagging everyone who liked the old post and was interested in the fanfic:

@sparkleywonderful​   @bookieworm​   @ggabiushca​   @deargeny13




Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5:

Part 6:


Feyre has escaped Tamlin for the second time but this time, no one in the Night Court is aware of what happens. Feyre is depending on the bond to bring Rhysand to her.

I wanted to see a short fic where Rhysand takes care of a weak Feyre and I know that that was like his entire role in ACOMAF but I wanted a scene where Feyre would have nothing but adoration for him and allow him to fuss over her. So here goes nothing…

Keep reading

Haunted : Jughead Jones

request: I know your requests are closed and you can just say no, I won’t mind. I am just going through a rough time and I need something comforts. Jughead finds out reader is a csa victim and comforts her when she starts panicking about him knowing 

 requested by: @iknowyouwuvme

A/N: This has a really heavy topic that may be triggering, so proceed with caution. Please check the warnings before reading this imagine. I hope this is what you were looking for, my darling. love ya, xx aubree

warnings: mention of child sexual abuse (proceed with caution); mention of a murder ( not Jason’s.)

word count: 729

(gif not mine) 


Originally posted by stydiaislove

Keep reading

Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay, life happened for both of us, more so for Ani than me, but we got our asses in gear and got the chapter done.

Ani didn’t draw anything for this chapter, but she is working on chapter 4 ideas, and if you smooze her enough, you might convince her to do double art. *wink wink nudge nudge*

Plus there’s a playlist for this fic!! (2 actually) Songs and Scores!

Anywhoodles, enjoy the chapter! :D

Summary: After the Conclave blew up in everyone’s face, the whole world went to shit. Lance didn’t know what to make of it, but there was no way he would join the Inquisition to become their tool. Sure, he could close the rifts now, by some miracle - accident in his humble opinion - and he was doing his best to close them on his own. Trouble was, they were getting worse as time went on. After being tossed by a shade, he was seriously reconsidering doing this by himself. Needless to say, he got lucky that a cute Seeker came to his rescue after getting caught in a dragon’s nest; the only problem was that cute Seeker was trying his damnedest to recruit him into the Inquisition.

Words: 4220


Chapters: [-1-] [-2-]

Keith sat there frozen, not knowing what to say to this mage in front of him. It never got any easier the more stories he heard about lost loved ones, or the horrors refugees witnessed within the woods. He hadn’t been there at the Conclave, had never met the Divine, but because he was a Seeker, he knew all about what happened.

He remained quiet, letting Lance find the courage to tell his story.

“I was only fifteen at the time, rebellious and bored of the Wildes. So I followed after her.” Lance was still toying with his food, not really caring if it was cold or not. “I followed her here, all the way to the Hinterlands. She met with the Divine, spoke on behalf of all the apostates.  She was well known, and most of the apostates deferred to her.”

Keith leaned forward, tilting his head. “What was her name? I want to say it was Amy, but that doesn’t sound right.”

Lance smiled softly. “Her name was Amelia. And I guess, I should clarify something.”

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under the cut: trans reigen ends up going to his high school reunion (~3.5k?)

-just a few short scenes, it kinda streamed out of me this morning. 

warning for MAJOR headcanoning (fanon ahoyyyy), high school bullying (unrelated to transness!), misgendering, deadnaming, and some minor homophobic language, but it’s really not an angst parade; i just want you to be safe. kinda bittersweet i guess. takes place 1~.5 years before canon

“I’m serious, that’s what happens,” Reigen says, walking next to Mob on their way to an assignment. He still isn’t used to the new uniform, like having a little black shadow keeping pace beside him whenever his student is following him around.

“But how do they get it in?” Mob asks, quietly skeptical.

“A big syringe, and then the carbonation makes the marble swell so it doesn’t fall out.”


“I’m telling you, Mob, that’s how they make Ramune bottles. Listen to your master.”

“Reigen-shishou, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Reigen?” a woman says from behind him, “Reigen from Saffron High, is that you?”

Keep reading

Elorcan Fan-fic; angst and slight smut

Elide stood quietly in the ballroom, the stained glass windows bathed the room in hues of green. Victory was bittersweet, the war against Erawan and Mave was hard won and the road to normalcy would be difficult, the court had much to reconstruct for Terrasan and for themselves. She sucked in a sharp breath to steady herself. Would things be easier if she had the guiding hand of her mother? Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, what would her mother say today; the day of her daughter’s coronation? The wooden double doors of the ballroom swung open wildly, the Queen of Terrasan marched hastily towards Elide. She nearly jumped out of her skin, the grin on the Queen’s face was as wicked and beautiful as she was. It had taken weeks for the court to fully recover, King Rowan insisted that Aelin remain in bed resting. At first, it very clearly did not befit Aelin, but after much yelling from both parties she consigned. “Majesty! Be careful with your woun- “. Aelin took Elide into her arms, “Cut the ‘Majesty’ bull. Today is your special day! There is just simply, no way I am going to stay in bed.” The Queen beamed, the light that glowed from her Queen nearly made Elide want to cry, the sacrifice her mother made all too much sense.  Aelin’s face fell, “Elide, why are you crying? “Elide stepped out of her arms shaking her head and giggling, “You are absolutely right Aelin, this would not be a true celebration without your extraordinary taste.” The Queen grinned and took Elide by the arm, “Come I’ve made arrangements for the maids to draw you a bath and primp you for the ceremony. Everything else consider it done. The only thing you need to worry about is having fun.”

A sick panic welled up in Elide’s abdomen, suddenly everything was too fast. She was whisked away from her Queen’s side by the maids. They made quick work of undressing her and unbounding her hair from the tight knot it had sat upon her head. Steam swallowed the bathing room, a sweet smell of vanilla and elderberries peppered the air. Elide sunk into the bath with a groan, the muscles on her shoulders slumped as the knots melted off. These weeks had consumed her mind with worry so thoroughly she could not recall the last time she had a restful night of sleep. A night where nightmares were not there to shake her from her slumber. One of the misses combed Elide’s long black hair with cinnamon and elderberry oils, lathering it into her roots and massaging her scalp. The maids washed the oils from her dark locks and left the warm water running as they exited the room allowing Elide a moment to herself.

Silence was not always the best company for a racing mind. She brought her knees towards her chest and rested her cheek a top her knees. For a moment she closed her eyes and submerged her face in the warmth of the water. Dark eyes stared at her nakedness, unforgiving and calculating. But when they turned to her face they softened, his words caressed her ribs, beneath her breast, and her hips. Goosebumps speckled her skin as he moved towards her a sadness churned in his eyes, “I am sorry Elide. Please forgive me.” The roughness in his hands was tender as he stroked her shoulders making lazy circles, the heat of his breath on the crook of her neck made her knees wobble. Lorcan kissed a gently path down her collarbone as Elide tipped her chin higher lust filled hunger and heat flickered her stomach a small sigh escaped her lips. Pulling away from her neck Lorcan ravaged her with his onyx eyes as he drank in her peaked breast and shallow breath; until he gripped her wrist, tears welled in his eyes; “Please, Elide.” Pain seared her arms as he twisted harder the angular face melted into a familiar face older and sinister, a voice like venom dripped from thin lips and Vernon screamed with laughter.

Elide shot up from the bath heaving, nausea filled her. She looked around hastily; no Vernon was dead; he would never escape Hellas. At the thought of the God a certain demi-fae also crossed her mind. She shook her head furiously, Absolutely not. Lorcan was a traitor regardless of the help he provided in the war, if she never saw him again it would be too soon.

Elide sat still has the maids brushed her face with cosmetics and braided her hair into a crown on top of her head. Kohl was swept above her lashes forming a cat eye, her lashes curled and darkened, and her lips painted ruby red. Surprise danced in her eyes as she looked at the woman in the mirror. The olive of her skin was polished bringing out the light of her onyx eyes, she appeared older perhaps this façade was better fit to be Lady of Perranth then she felt. “My lady, you have a visitor.” She arched a groomed brow when the maid stepped away from the frame of the open door to reveal a different body. Elide bristled like a cat as Lorcan stood at the door with a dozen white roses in his arms. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”, she gritted through her teeth her eyes narrowing. Lorcan cleared his throat, “Today is your corona-”” I gods damn know what day it is. I want to know what made you think you were invited.”, Elide spat. She uncoiled to her feet and approached Lorcan, taking the flowers from his arms, “You can shove these right up yo-” The chambermaid cleared her throat and made a hasty exit, Elide pressed her lips into a hard line and turned towards her bed lying the bouquet sloppily on the bed. Lorcan concealed a grin behind a hand. She turned back to the chair facing the mirrored vanity and mumbled, “Insufferable bastard.”

He was towering in the, suddenly, small room and roguishly handsome in the elegant white tunic, his black hair pulled into a low pony tail. But she could not deny herself a chance to exam the thunderous rolls of muscles on his body in the mirror; she gulped. Lorcan prowled closer to Elide, she tipped her chin up in disgust, “You look lovely. Perranth will have a beautiful lady.” Her lower spine tingled as he stood behind her, so close but yet she hated the space that still separated them. Hated herself for ever admitting she wanted him closer. No, instead she rose from the chair and turned to the male with an icy smile a crude remark on her lips until, “My lady, it is time.” Mika announced. Elide allowed herself to exam his body openly, convincing herself it was to belittle him, but the predatory smile on the male’s lips told her Lorcan was not convinced with her act, something on his face was different, not quite right perhaps gaunt from whatever nightmares haunted him; she stepped around him to reach Mika.  

The gown was made with heavy silk, draped taffeta on the skirt, the bodice tight charmeuse like a second skin with a bateau neckline; oh but it was the color of the gown a deep shade of jade.  Elide wore slippers instead of the traditional heeled shoe to ease the pain in her ruined ankle. The orchestra played a playful twinkling piece as she walked with ease towards the temple grounds of the Three-Faced Goddess. A woman in an abysmal red dress stood off to the side her long silver hair whipping in the wind her yellow sharp eyes lined with silver alight with pride; Manon; Elide’s eyes watered but she held her head high. Beside the wing leader was the King of Adarlan both dressed in red although the King bore his crown. The priestess in the temple quietly sang hymns to Elide, hymns of powerful futures for Terrasan, for Aelin’s court, the hymns told of the magic that simmered quietly in Elide’s veins, and finally; the last hymn spoke of being the blessed of Anneith and ever favored object of Hellas. Her face warmed at the mention of the Goddesses’ consort but the resumption of the orchestra told Elide it would be time to for her crowning.

Elide held her breath as a silvered box marched toward her, the bearer was Chaol Westfall, the King of Adarlan’s right hand man. His brown eyes shown with pride as well, the war had brought about an unlikely friendship between the two. A silvered parure with green opals was revealed and Elide bowed as deeply as her ankle would allow her. The parure heavy with jewels and responsibility; she felt the weight of her people on her heart. When Elide coiled to her feet in front of her stood Queen Aelin and King Rowan in meek finery. “Rise, Lady of Perranth and welcome home.” Tears shone in the Queen’s eyes and both of the monarch’s bowed as she straightened to her feet. Turning to face the crowd the entire procession erupted into thunderous applause. Elide smiled a warm gentle hand squeezed her exposed shoulder and whispered into her ear, “Lady Marion would be so proud.” She swallowed the want to explode into tears and instead straightened her back; she will be strong for Perranth, like her mother was strong for her.

After the ceremony Elide strolled into the garden for a moment alone with her thoughts. She hadn’t spotted Lorcan with the other cadre during the ceremony, perhaps the weight of her words did cause the demi-fae to disappear like some genteel warrior. A knot formed on her chest, and Elide shook her head against that feeling as her eyes stung from the emotions building behind them, No, it didn’t matter she didn’t want him there to begin with not after what he had done to her queen. “I made a promise to protect you. I will not break it, Elide.” “I will always find you,” he swore to her. A sob built in her throat, naive and stupid that’s what those thoughts placed her in the shoes of a little girl.

“Elide?”, a female voice sounded from behind her and Elide straightened her spin at the cool command of the voice. Impulsively, she wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks but too late Manon turned her around and concern wrinkled her beautiful features, “What’s the matter, witchling?” Elide quivered, “Nothing, Lorcan, he … I did not…” She halted her sentence at the sight of Manon’s expression of anguish, “Oh, Elide. Lorcan he didn’t… Remember in the war he.” Elide’s world tilted,

oh yes

, a hole punched through her chest. Pain, the likes of which she had never endured, gaped below her like a sinkhole. Her soul guttered, her frame shuddered viciously.

The court had lost so many, Mave, she did not die without someone to take with her into the darkness.

Lorcan couldn’t be dead he had been in her room; by the Gods he had delivered roses!

Unrelenting screams rattled from Elide’s throat at the sight of Lorcan burning from his powers. Magic sucking the life from him, but strong hands held her fast; Choal shuddered against her thrashing.

Elide stared beyond Manon to see her court there, lips pursed, eye avoidant, and faces sullen.

“Please no, Lorcan!”

, she had screamed until she was hoarse. She had held him as the healers attempt to save him from that darkness. Tears stained her dirty face. Her nails broken and bleeding as she held him. His frame too big for her to completely engulf him with her warmth.

They had heard her conversation with Lorcan, no, the conversation she thought was Lorcan in her chamber but it had been Manon. The tears lining her eyes was not only for pride, no it was also from the pain.

Her body rattled from holding him against her, she had kissed his cold lips over and over. Not again, not another person to rip away from her. “I think… I think I loved you.” She whispered to him but he was impossibly cold, she would not release him.

No one moved for a long moment and Elide strained to still her feverish fluttering heart. She was going to combust, her bones melted as she sank to her knees. The beautiful skirt of the emerald dress puffed around her. Rowan approached her slowly, as if she were some prey but she could not find the strength to fight against the horror that washed her world.

“I wanted to go to Perranth with you.”,

they had been close to death once and he had whispered that to her. “I wanted you to come with me, to Perranth.”, Elide whispered as she bowed her head, a pray on her lips as she sent that message to Hellas himself.

Old Mask.

ponyboydean submitted:

I always loved theatre, and it’s history. How the Greeks would wear these Masks made of wood, some were scary with large eyes and a malicious expression, which is like the one I found while at an auction. It is a dark red with large eyes and a wide sinister smile. I hung it up in my room, because i thought it looked cool. It hung there without incident for months until about April of last year I slowly began to hear whispers at night around 3 am, it was a mans voice but i couldn’t understand it. I decided to ignore it. One night, a month later; I was sleeping when a sudden sharp ringing was in my ears and my eyes wouldn’t open, they were being forced shut. I would try to pry them open with my hands but could only feel the old wood of the mask on my face. Then as sudden as it came, it went away, and i woke up in a cold sweat. It has only happened twice since then, but the past two times I have gotten nose bleeds and wake up confused of where I am. I haven’t told anyone..

Fuck Yeah Nightmares Mod James: SMOKIN’! 9/10 All right that’s terrifying.  Please find a way to dispose of the mask.

Okay it’s late and I can’t sleep so I’m sharing a story about a formative event in my childhood. My older sisters were probably watching some TV around 1996-97 and I whined at them until they let me join in and see whatever they were watching. Which in this fateful case happened to me  Dracula: Dead And Loving It, a parody featuring Leslie Nielsen in the lead role.

For a kid it was pretty mature with all the boobs and fake blood, especially for one who knew no English,so I was very sure it was a proper horror film. But oh boy, neither I or my sisters could have predicted that I was about to see something that would change me forever. Haunt my nightmares for years.

Bat with Leslie Nielsen’s head.

Honestly, that shit was the most horrifying thing my young mind could EVER have imagined. I had dreams of bats with Nielsen’s face scurrying all over the walls and dropping down on me from the ceiling, only to bounce off like little blood-filled balloons. In my mind every scary film equated to being at least as scary as Bat Nielsen. I was probably in my late teens when I realized that if the movie had Nielsen in it “it probably couldn’t have been horror”. Did I ever watch it again out of curiosity? Oh FUCK no. Even looking up the pictures for this post made me want to hurl. Can you imagine what it’s like to live your life having Bat Nielsen pop into your mind over the most mundane things? People sharing their favorite horror movies, Bat Nielsen. Actual pictures of bats, Bat Nielsen. Batman? Bat Nielsen. Furries? Bat Nielsen.

So if I ever do a gorey comic with little bat creatures with human faces, it’s because this shitty (probably) Dracula movie cursed me as a child. 

Anyway it’s 4am good night.

anonymous asked:

Can we please have more of Empress Rey and Senator Ben. Like the first time she falls in love with him or make love? Not sex but make love? Please...

my poor little heart

It started from afar. They were close up, but the pining—it was distant, detached, discordant. Their bodies met at night but not their emotions. She kept him an arm’s length away and her heart, a lightyear apart. She forgot he existed when courting him late at night, only remembering his personhood when the day roused her to an empty sea of white linen sheets.

After what felt like months, she admitted to herself she stole glances when in the senate house. At the center of the room she deflected attention to him, called him out, made him argue with passion and heat. Fire filled his eyes where only awe reflected back from hers. He was headstrong and disagreeable and altogether bewitching. And she was mesmerized.

It was a pity she’d devoted so much effort to making him detest her.

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Inhumans Part Four

Originally posted by ethereal-baek

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Genre: A/U, Angst, Violence, Fluff, Romance, more in the future.

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: Inhumans are people born with powers, feared by most all over the world. Inhumans are often killed before the age of three or kept locked up and tested on. EXO is a rogue group of Inhumans who broke free and are now looking to free fellow Inhumans as well as get justice for their kind. However, with their powers come limitations. With these limitations, they sometimes need a helping hand.

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The Ghost of You // part one. (kyungsoo au)

Summary; whilst running from your ability of seeing the dead, you stumble upon a handsome man with wide eyes and a heart shaped smile, who just so happens to be what you’re running from.


You tried your very best to ignore his large eyes as he stared at you. You even averted your eyes, focusing on gathering up the various bags at your feet. You contemplated leaving, and telling the landowner you changed your mind and you wanted to leave. However, this was the cheapest apartment and you signed a contract, so technically, you couldn’t leave.

“You’re ignoring me. You can’t ignore me. You looked straight at me, not through me,” he continued to speak as you continued to do your best to ignore him. “Don’t ignore me. Please.”

You shuffled inside, dropping your bags by the sofa and glancing around the apartment. It was nice, very nice, and very cheap. You were sceptical at first, due to the price of such an amazing apartment, but now you knew why it was cheap. There was a ghost. It was haunted, something the landowner forgot to mention.


You wanted to ignore him, you really did. However, you could hear the desperation in his voice as he spoke. You could just about feel how desperate he was. You weren’t awful. You didn’t completely shut out ghosts all the time, you wanted to, but you didn’t have the heart. If they were desperate for help, you would try and help them.

“Hello,” you whispered in a small voice. You fiddled with the bottom of your jumper slightly as you spoke. They frightened you, the fact that you could see and talk to dead people frightened you, even though you had been doing it for many years.

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I Know

A Stucky One Shot

TW: PTSD (Bucky), Language, FLUFF AF FAM, thats it?

A/N: Thanks @drarryfetish for being my first request! Love ya Beans! Also my last one shot got like 70 notes??? THANK YOU??? 

Request/Summary: Buck has nightmares, he tries to tell himself to man up and get his shit together. Steve hears him and comes in and comforts him. Steve decides to take Bucky out around NY and their old haunts, try and bring a smile to his face They’re driving on one of the bridges and Steve is driving and fluff ensues.

Gif not mine

Originally posted by s-a-l-t-w-a-t-e-r-k-i-d

“Son of of bitch.”  

Every night. Every god damn night Bucky is woken by his nightmares. Every night he kills someone he loves all over again. Tonight it’s Steve. Bucky can still feel the heat of Steve’s throat on his metal hand….

He can’t take it. He can’t handle it anymore and he starts to cry. That only makes it worse.

“Come on you little punk. Knock it off. Men don’t cry over bad dreams. Get your shit together.” Now he’s sobbing, pulling his hair and rocking back and forth on the bed.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream…” The phrase repeated endlessly, loud in his mind. He didn’t even notice Steve had come into the room until the bed dipped down under his weight.

“Buck? Are you ok?” Steve places a gentle hand on Bucky’s back, slowly stroking up and down, trying to soothe his sobbing boyfriend.

Bucky stops rocking, moving his hands from the back of his head to cup his face as he leans into Steve’s broad shoulders. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

“This one was worse though.” A statement, not a question.

Bucky hated how Steve always seemed to know him just as well if not better than Bucky knew himself. Then again, it was nice to not feel quite so alone.

“Yeah,” His throat constricts and he has to swallow hard before speaking again. “It was you this time. And I woke up and for a minute I… I thought I was… that you were…”

“Aw Buck… baby c’mere.”

Bucky has broken down crying again. Steve tilts him over until they’re laying down in the bed together, with Bucky sobbing into Steve’s chest.

“Listen to me Buck, you got nothing to be ashamed of, ok? After everything you’ve been through, everything Hydra made you do, no one thinks any less of you for having these nightmares. And honey, it’s ok to not be ok. This doesn’t make you any less of a man you hear me?”

Bucky sniffles, nodding into his chest as Steve leans down to kiss the top of Bucky’s head.

“Tomorrow we’re gonna go out.”

“Out where?” Bucky mumbles, his head still buried in Steve’s torso.

“Out anywhere. I was thinking maybe that old diner on Coney Island? I think it’s still there. We can steal one of Tony’s convertibles and drive out there tomorrow! But right now you just try and get some sleep ok?”

Bucky tilts his head up to look Steve in the eye. He whispers “Ok” before leaning in, capturing Steve’s lips in a sweet kiss.

The Next Day

Steve convinced Tony to let him take out the convertible for the day. Him and Bucky drove through Brooklyn, pointing out familiar places that no longer felt familiar.

The couple made their way out to Coney Island, and spent the day on the boardwalk, soaking in the warm spring sun and the fresh ocean breeze.

Bucky even convinced Steve to go on the Cyclone again, despite Steve’s protests.

“Come on, you’re not that little guy who could barely breathe anymore. You’ve handled worse than this!”

“Seriously Buck it’s ok, you go on without me I’ll wait for you right here.”

Bucky pouts, and looks up at Steve through half-lidded eyes and long bangs, “It won’t be as fun without you though Stevie…”

Steve was always a sucker for Bucky’s puppy eyes, despite them both being grown men.

They held hands almost the entire day, relishing in the freedom to love each other and enjoy the day together as boyfriends.

When it came time to drive back to Avenger Tower, it was late afternoon, the sun setting over the water as they made their way back over Brooklyn Bridge.

Steve was driving again, but instead of using one hand to point out personal landmarks, he used it to hold Bucky’s hand on his thigh, fingers interlaced, not wanting to lose any physical contact with his man.

The wind was whipping their hair and faces as they drove and the red sun cast the tail ends of its warm fingers on their bodies. A comfortable silence had taken them over with only the loud wind to make noise against New York traffic.

The silence was broken by Steve, who looked over at Bucky, smiled at him, and said, “You know I love you. Right Buck?”

Bucky, slightly taken aback at the seriousness in Steve’s voice, smiled back at him, “Yeah… I know punk. I love you too.”

Steve’s smile widened into a grin at this, and he raised their intertwined hands from their place on his leg, and kissed Bucky’s hand.

“I know.”

Tags: @thejamesoldier @drarryfetish @thatawkwardtinyperson @mar-gega @itshiddleskittles @kit-kat-coffeeworld @saffreelove @bovaria @buckyappreciationsociety @sebbys-girl

I think my ask box is open? Let me know what y’all think! I live for feedback! Reblogs are preferred over likes, I’m new and need the exposure :)

anonymous asked:

Hi I recently found your blog and was wondering if you could do a reader insert? I've been struggling recently with nightmares and being jumpy/ on edge all the time due to being in a car accident a few years ago. I was wondering if you could do one of the readerxjohn and Sherlock where she has ptsd because of a car accident? It'd really help ty!

Originally posted by roadswewalk

Reader x John; Reader x Sherlock

You jumped up from your bed, sweat trickling down your face. Although the fan was running, the room felt as if it had been set on fire. Pushing yourself up, you walked into 221B’s kitchen and poured yourself an ice cold glass of water.

“Y/N?” You jumped at John’s voice. “What are you doing up? It’s two in the morning.”

“I needed water.” You croaked out, holding up the glass for him to see.

John tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course she’s not alright she’s sweating like a guilty man on trial.” Sherlock walked into the kitchen in his robe and opened the fridge.

“Sherlock,” John muttered in disbelief. “Where did you come from?”

“I just came back from my walk.” He shrugged.

“At two in the morning?” You asked.

“Yes, but at least I’m telling the truth.” Sherlock turned around and faced you, crossing his arms. “What aren’t you telling me?”

You saw his eyes scan your body, searching for any hint as to what you were hiding.

“Nightmare.” Sherlock blurted out after a few seconds.

You gulped, nodding. You prayed that he didn’t find out about the crash that still haunted you. It was as clear in your mind as a summer sky. The way the car skidded off of the road and fell down the hill was something you could never shake.

“You said everything was fine.” John crossed his arms.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You turned to leave as Sherlock grabbed your wrist.


“No?” You asked.

“No.” Sherlock repeated. “I’m the one that never talks about stuff. I hold it inside of me until I go off the rails, but not you. You always talk about everything going on with you. That’s who you are, now talk.”

You took a deep breath. “A few years ago I got into a wreck. It was bad, really bad. Every night when I go to sleep I can still see everything so clearly. It-It haunts me and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” John muttered, pulling you into a protective embrace.

“I haven’t told anyone.” You whispered into his shoulder. “Well, until now.”

You felt Sherlock place a hand on your back as John let go. Without warning, the tall disconnected detective pulled you in for a bone crushing hug. As soon as you registered what was happening, you gratefully hugged him back.

In the softest whisper you had ever heard, Sherlock said, “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. Whenever you think of the accident from now on, just know that I’ll be in the passenger’s seat next to you.”

“Thank you.” You gratefully told him as he pulled away.

“Right, well, let’s go watch a movie or something, yeah?” John asked.

“Y/N can make the popcorn.” Sherlock stalked off into the living room. You laughed, grateful to have these two in your life.

Tagged as requested: @marvel-is-my-life2099, @allheart36

The Fire That Won’t Go Out

The first fires started on Monday and by Saturday we were all evacuated from our homes, told to grab only essentials. And although it was never directly said to us, it’s implied we’re never going back. I’m writing this from my parent’s house in Michigan, far away from the hellscape that was once my home.

My boyfriend Ike, a volunteer firefighter, got called about the first house fire. Typically he doesn’t get called on for this sort of thing but apparently it was a rager. So with a kiss to my cheek and a cheeky reminder to let the cat in tonight, he took off. Meanwhile I settled in for a day off of work, I don’t get them often enough and I wanted to relax.

About noon Ike called me. I was dancing around my room to the Hamilton soundtrack while eating Pringles when the phone went off. I turned off the music and answered.

“Hey babe.”

“You won’t believe this- it’s the McGowan house.”

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