the light has just come back into his world

This is so beautiful because after years and years of Harry being a sweetheart to everyone he’s met, stopping for fan photos, doing more for charity than we’ll ever know, and just being an overall positive light in this world… all that good is coming back to him tenfold with all of this support coming from everyone in his life who’s been touched by his kindness, and everyone else who has witnessed it time and again.

Be nice to nice is the best way to live… Harry’s a great example of that.

im-a-closet-narnian  asked:

Can you please write a lil something about drunk marauders + Lily? With a little jily and wolfstar if it fits? ❤

this is probably, like, not what you had in mind, but here you go babe:

  • sixth year, may. 
  • another attack.
  • at least they think it’s another attack.
  • the prophet is shit on a good day, and this morning is no exception. nothing. a fifth year gryffindor girl was pulled out of school the day before, though, so the whispers are rampant.
  • the whispers grow all day, and even after james has tried to distract himself with his broomstick, and chess, and the match, he jumps when the evening prophet owl taps at the common room window.
  • he flips to page 7. the obits.
  • always look in the obituaries, that’s what they’ve learned. (the evening prophet didn’t even used to run them, but there are too many, any more, to keep them limited to one edition.)
  • and, yeah. seven people, all from the same town. two families. no cause of death mentioned, 
  • but they know.
  • the worst part is–aside from the girl’s parents, and her younger brother–is her older brother.
  • because they know him. he was three years above them. former prefect. decent bloke. he and james played quidditch together. he’s waving at them, oblivious and unknowing. cheerful. it’s perverse. 
  • it makes james want to throw up. he runs upstairs to grab ogden’s instead. reckless, but who’s going to stop him?
  • lily’s not stupid. she saw the prophet come, and the boys pale. 
  • it’s not like she’s been dropping any eaves, but they weren’t exactly quiet about it, were they?
  • and lily wants to throw up, because she knew it was another attack. she knew it the moment mcgonagall had her fetch sarah from her potions class. 
  • and sarah knew, too. that walk to mcgonagall’s office was the worst she’s ever had to endure.
  • she’s tutored sarah in charms for the entire term, and her entire family is gone. what will happen to her now?
  • she watches potter return with an ogden’s-shaped-bottle stuffed not so discretely under a crumpled copy of transfiguration today.
  • they make eye contact, and he raises his chin, defiant. 
  • like she’s going to report him? when has she ever?
  • she mimes taking a swig.
  • it’s not her place, right? to intrude. but it looks, frankly, damn appealing. rude to drink in the common room and not share.
  • lily doesn’t even say anything to her mates, she just crosses the common room and plops down next to peter on the sofa.
  • her mates, though, who have either pretended not to watch this entire thing unfold, or shamelessly watched it with rapt fascination, follow closely behind.
  • sirius produces mugs from nowhere, the bastard, making a loud, unsubtle comment about hot choclate for all. and remus, the bastard, fills their mugs nearly to overflowing with some brilliant refilling charm. and potter, the bastard, charms each of their mugs to actually look like hot chocolate. peter adds marshmallows and steam. for affect, he says. the bastard.
  • how often have they done this?
  • it doesn’t matter, because lily can’t get sarah’s face out of her head, or her chattering voice, or her brilliant smile with slightly crooked teeth. 
  • lily wonders about her dog, who she mentioned in every lesson, and her little sister, who constantly rummages through sarah’s things, and whether sarah will be beating herself up for every tirade she’d ever given about her little sister, or if she’ll ever smile that brilliant little smile again.
  • it’s her brother’s smile. lily sees him smiling up from the prophet.
  • her dad’s smile, too.
  • and james potter reaches over from his armchair and steadies her hand. she’d been shaking so hard it was sloshing on the armrest.
  • she smiles weakly. 
  • drink, evans.
  • cheers, she says, and they clink mugs, and down them in one gulp.
  • not one gulp, because who could actually do that?
  • but they keep refilled, and that’s what matters.
  • i am scared to go home.
  • lily is the first to admit it, but everyone echoes the sentiment. all of them. even james. he’s not saying it to soothe her.
  • he means it. he’s scared, too.
  • what the fuck are we going to do? dorcas asks.
  • and no one knows the answer to that, but remus mutters something and their drinks refill again.
  • lily starts tellling them about sarah. her family, and the dog, and the little sister. james fills in the blanks with anectodes about the brother. david.
  • david.
  • lily had been trying to remember his name all damned day, and it was absurd that she should know it–she never even talked to him, except once in her first week when she’d gotten hopelessly lost and he’d helped her find her class–but she’d been beating herself up about it all day.
  • his name was david and he was sarah’s older brother and he loved treacle tart and he was a decent flyer and his broomstick’s name was jezebel.
  • it doesn’t take it away, talking about all of this, but there’s something cathartic about it. giving voice to them. more than a shit obituary.
  • lily’s gran told her, once, that people died twice. once, when they breathed their last. second, when their name was spoken out loud for the last time. she says this to her friends, and then she reads: diedra wallace. the mother. and michael wallace, sarah’s father.
  • she starts to say isabel, but she gets stuck. dorcas says it for her.
  • james says david’s name. his middle name isn’t printed in the obit, but james knew it, apparently. andrew.
  • dorcas reads a little blurb about sarah, that she’s going to go live with relatives. the location isn’t printed. obviously.
  • lily remembers something about a muggle aunt, just outside london. she always gave sarah spending money for school, even though it was a world she could never see or be a part of.
  • will she be back at school? maybe that’s for the best if she isn’t.
  • they speculate, then, about whether she’ll come back, and what they’ll do that summer, and next year, and after.
  • no one has an answer, but james says something, and he buries the rest of the word in his cup.
  • they fall silent.
  • and it might be the light, or the three mugs of whisky she’s had, or the resolve in his voice. probably all of it.
  • but realizes she adores this boy, really and truly.
  • or that she wouldn’t mind adoring him.
  • something.
  • nothing else happens that night. the something summed up what they all felt, and what else was there to say?
  • no one might report them for drinking something questionable in the common room, but their arses will definitely be in hot water if they all show up hungover to class tomorrow, so they have one last toast to the wallaces and head to bed.
Flustered (Baekyeol)

Valentine’s Day. It is one of the busiest times of the year, at least for waiters and waitresses. Ah yes, workers like them do not simply get the day off, but it is not like Baekhyun would want to be anywhere else, especially on a day like this.

“Hey, Baekhyun? Could you manage a number seven to table three?” Johnny, one of his coworkers, asks him from the window separating the kitchen and the counter.

“Coming right up!” He starts to jumble around a few ingredients and pours them in a bowl of noodles. When it is ready, he goes through the double doors and into the floor of love struck couples and heartbroken wallets.

After he hands table three their order, a blond woman with large, ebony rimmed glasses and a pink envelope comes towards his direction; a scene in which has occurred almost every day of his life since he had began working there.

“Hello… Baekhyun,” she sent him an upturned smile, all shy and delicacy. “I was wondering if you could be my valentine.” She stretches the envelope out and Baekhyun takes it, regardless of his true feelings. He would never put down all of these confessions and embarrass the poor souls, so taking them would cushion the fall.

“Thank you, but I am not interested. You seem like a very nice girl, though.” That is his way of cushioning the fall, and it is one of the reasons why all these girls are so persistent with him. Out of all the waiters who work there, he is the only one who would turn them down so kindly. His smile is all it would take to mend their disappointment.

“Oh… thanks anyway.” She upturns her lips uneasily and turns away, leaving Baekhyun to head back to the kitchen. However, as he walked up to it he stumbles across the tall, auburn haired, and majestic honey eyed waiter– Park Chanyeol, or better known as, the reason for his frequent heart lurches and broken dishes.

Speaking of which, as they meet paths Baekhyun forgets that he still has the tray that he used to serve the dishes with, and it slips out of his hands when Chanyeol decides to stop in front of him. Just in time, though, the double door behind Chanyeol opens and collides into his back, causing him to drop his own dish and glass all over the wooden floor.

The noise is overwhelmingly loud, and all eyes are on them, as per usual. This occurs too much, and Baekhyun can not stop cursing himself each time it does. Dang you Park Chanyeol and your devilishly handsome looks!

“I-I’m s-so sorry.” Both voices say in unison, cheeks tinted and grins nervous.

They bend down to pick up the respective pieces, but before Baekhyun can touch a shard of glass, Chanyeol holds onto his wrist and stops him.

“Don’t, you can cut yourself. Let me do it,” he says, making it harder for Baekhyun to gather words out of the air in his lungs. Are the walls closing in or is it just him?

He swallows and pulls away slowly, “Are you sure? It doesn’t make sense if you end up cutting yourself too.”

“Better me than you,” Chanyeol looks up at him and their eyes lock– motionless and yet, so full of booming emotions.

Baekhyun’s vitals go haywire and he springs upwards, which does not go in his favor as he ends up knocking into another waiter, whom falls to the ground with– you guessed it– another plate to add onto the shattered mess.

After that, the rest of the day goes on with desperate attempts to hide oneself, short glances, and small palpations of the heart.

“You are so ridiculous, you know?” Johnny says when they are in the break room, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Just make out with him already.”

“Johnny!” Baekhyun protests as he clamps his eyes shut, only to slap the wise guy on his arm. “Don’t say that so easily.”

“He’s right, though.” A woman says, and when Baekhyun turns around, he finds the main reason as to why men frequent this place just as much as women do– Bae Areum. “About the ridiculous part, that is. You two should just focus on getting your feelings out before making out, at least.”

Baekhyun messes up his hair out of frustration, everyone seems to know what he should do excerpt for himself. “It’s not as easy as it looks. I can’t even look at him without wanting to run away.”

“How do you think he feels? He’s just as flustered as you are! Your both ridiculous in that case, to be honest. Making out does sound like a better option now that I think about it.”

“Areum!” He is exasperated as the two cupids high five one another with titters.

“Just make your move, and what better day to do it than Valentine’s Day? It’s perfect!” Johnny says elatedly, like he has come up with the best plan in the entire world.

“He’s right, take this chance and go with it.”

Baekhyun toys with the flap of his apron, contemplating. When the intimidating conversation had ended, Baekhyun went onto his duties until his shift ended at 6:00 PM.

He was in the employee lounge to grab his coat to leave, but when he came back to the main floor, the whole restaurant was empty, the lights were closed, and everything was quiet.

The only source of light that escaped was from the table in the middle, which was surrounded by a circle of lavender scented candles. There were rose petals sprawled all around them and even atop the white covered table.

Right next to the beautiful display is an even more beautiful man, his tuxedo sleek and shiny as he holds a dozen roses in his hands. Awestruck, Baekhyun advances slowly, still trying to perceive all of this, all of this amazing man.

“C-Chanyeol? What is all this?” He barely asks, as the man takes Baekhyun’s hand to place a lingering kiss atop the smooth skin. Baekhyun swears that he’s not even breathing at this point.

“Hey,” he says with a chuckle, dashing and charming. “This is my heart, I want to give it to you.”

It is hazy and oh so light around them that he feels like he could fade into the mesmerizing atmosphere. But he doesn’t, he is just so weak, so shocked, so euphoric.

“Here, I got these for you,” Chanyeol says while handing him the bokay of roses. Baekhyun’s first instinct is to smell them, but when he takes a look at them he realizes that amidst the romantic red, there is one white rose that steals the limelight.

There is a card that’s plastered right next to it, so he plucks it out and reads the soft words.

No matter how big the crowd is, you are the one that will always stand out to me.

Tears pool in his eyes as a smile tingles on the side of his lip– correction, it is at this moment that he forgets how to breathe.

He tilts his head back up to look at sweetness in its human form, but Chanyeol meets Baekhyun there and closes his lips around his in a knee bending kiss. They mold into each other as Chanyeol wraps his strong arms around Baekhyun’s shoulders, deepening the kiss and holding him close.

If he knew that kissing Chanyeol felt this wondrous and so out of this world, he would have made a move long ago.

Merry Christmas


The softest whisper of winter slipped in through the cracks in the window and bit at Jonathan’s toes as he walked down the hallway. Still dressed in the clothes he fell asleep in; a baggy pair of sweats and an old shirt that hung too far past his waist.

“I’ll tell him Momma,” he hears coming from the kitchen where sweet smells and warm light await him. “Uh huh. Yeah, we promise. Love you too.”

His feet still shuffle when he walks, he hasn’t fully awoken yet and the world slips by slowly, caught as he is still in the dreams of waking. Where everything is hazy and he has to blink just to keep himself awake.

But it’s Christmas morning and it’s too late to go back to sleep, so he ambles down the hallway to where the warm smell of coffee awaits him.

And there, standing in the doorway with a warm cup in one hand and a phone pressed to his ear with the other is Luke. Smiling and nodding along as he listens to the other end of the call.

Jonathan steps close and leans into Luke with his full body weight, pressing into the other man’s side. Sliding his fingers around the cup in Luke’s hand he rests his chin on his shoulder and whispers.

Right up against his ear, soft warm breath, “ momma or yours..?”

Strings of tiny lights line the wall just beneath the ceiling, leaving a gentle glow that just barely lights up the corners of Luke’s face as he turns and presses a gentle kiss to Jonathan’s brow.

“Sounds good, Momma,” Luke adds to his side of the conversation, softly fluttering his eyes closed when his forehead touches Jonathan’s. His smile is a part of him that keeps him warm from within and it spreads from his face to Jonathan’s.

“We’ll be over there at eight then.” 

Jonathan’s hands hold the coffee and Luke at the same time and he isn’t quite sure which one is leaving him closer to sleep but if he leaned any harder against the other boy he would be a part of him.

His eyes shut, too much to keep open, as he considers the possibility.

“Love you too,” Luke drawls, speaking to both of them at once.

HQ!! x Soul Eater HCs Part 3

Iwaizumi / Oikawa
Meister: Iwaizumi
Weapon Type: Katana

These two were practically meant to be partners. They grew up together, teased each other, and enrolled in DWMA for the same reason: to be the strongest meister and weapon the world has ever seen. Oikawa wouldn’t be able to become a proper Death Scythe since he transforms into a katana, so his goal turned to being the best weapon that Iwaizumi can wield.

Oikawa is the prettiest weapon ever to live, yet Iwaizumi doesn’t bother to be careful when it comes to fights so if something stains the blade, he just wipes it off using a leaf or whatever he finds. Neither of them hold back and they both compliment each other - Oikawa is light and precise, which allows Iwaizumi to attack quickly and accurately. Even if his weapon is knocked out of his hands, Iwaizumi can still kick serious ass until Oikawa reaches him again. If you anger them enough, they’ll finish things off quickly with their Soul Resonance attack.

Hanamaki / Matsukawa
Meister: Hanamaki
Weapon Type: Lance

Being friends with Oikawa and Iwaizumi meant they were always competing against each other. They trained together, enrolled in DWMA at the same time, and entered an even larger competition to see who could acquire 99 souls and a witch soul the fastest. Matsukawa was in no rush though and Hanamaki is fine taking their time. They’re often backing up Oikawa and Iwaizumi, but they have their own share of battles.

Matsukawa gets thrown more often than not. Hanamaki has decent aim, but he usually hits non-vital areas, which is enough to distract the enemy and let Iwaizumi finish them off. In the event throwing isn’t an option, Hanamaki defends more than attack. Matsukawa as a weapon is flexible and light, doing his best to remain as easy to handle as he can. It often takes more than one hit to defeat their enemies, but so long they aren’t surrounded, it’s fine. Even in that case, Iwaizumi is there to back them up.

Kindaichi / Kunimi
Meister: Kindaichi
Weapon Type: Pistol

These two were partnered partially by accident and partially by their instructors. At first glance, no one could tell they were incompatible - they were always seen together outside of class, were often hanging out, sometimes even helping each other with homework. Their personalities didn’t clash, strangely, and neither of them wanted to be the best, only wanted to do their best. Kindaichi used to keep his opinions to himself, but they would slip out occasionally and Kunimi would hear him out. He could care less about competition between his classmates, but he knew listening to Kindaichi would make him feel better, so he kept his mouth shut.

As a weapon, Kunimi wants to use as little energy as possible. Fortunately, Kindaichi does most of the work anyway - it’s his soul wavelength being shot out as bullets and he’s the meister. All Kunimi has to do is make sure the shots are fired. It’s only when things are heated he feels like he has to do something. He can control the bullet’s trajectory so if Kindaichi’s aim is off, Kunimi can redirect it. He lacks power, however, so it often takes more than one bullet to finish an enemy off. He isn’t a big fan of eating souls and often lets someone else initiate the final bow as a result. He has no plans of being a Death Scythe and as long as Kindaichi remains as his meister, he’s fine as he is.

Ushijima / Tendou
Meister: Ushijima
Weapon Type: Pitchfork Axe

Bokuto likes to pretend Ushijima doesn’t exist so he can retain the title of strongest meister, but Ushijima really takes the cake. He comes from a family of meisters so he can instinctively wield any weapon and sync up to any soul wavelength. His main flaw is his left-hand dominance because weapons rarely accommodate for left-handed meisters. To counter this, Ushijima learned how to dual wield weapons, but finding a pair suitable for him was difficult. In the end, he had no choice but to partner up with Tendou, the academy’s trickster, as his weapon form allowed for left-hand dominance.

Despite their clashing personalities, Tendou is the perfect fit for Ushijima’s stoic personality. Ushijima is an efficient meister, never hesitating to strike, and retreating as soon as the enemy is defeated. He lets Tendou’s instincts and senses guide him, taking his advice to heart, and taking heed of his warnings while on the field. Ushijima is careful not to let his weapon fly but in the event he’s left barehanded, he can buy enough time to run simply by inflicting his soul wavelength onto his enemy.

Semi / Shirabu
Meister: Semi
Weapon Type: Dagger

Shirabu has always wanted to be partners with DWMA’s strongest meister, but Ushijima already has a partner and is in no hurry to find another. This left Shirabu to partner with Semi, his upperclassman who had a previous partner call it quits between them. Fortunately, Semi is friends with Ushijima so the two are often out on missions together. Unfortunately, this meant Shirabu had to get along with Tendou, but the two managed to become friends before long.

Semi is fast - he strikes first and he often strikes hard. He distracts the enemy for Ushijima to finish things off, deflects blows aimed at him, and sets up opportunities for Ushijima to strike. Shirabu, being a dagger, is able to conform to Semi’s fighting style, and he’s often left in awe at how Semi can make a battle go by quickly with the support he gives to Ushijima. On their own, Semi is the one reminding Shirabu what to do, what to look out for, and how to react in different situations. He often goes flying but Semi is never completely defenseless. One time, Shirabu watched his meister take an enemy down barehanded (he returned in time to deliver the final blow). It’s instances like these that keep reminding Shirabu that he has a lot to learn.

Hang The Moon From My Lips; You Are Mine

A NurseyDex soulmate AU as requested by @hellokyochan

Read it on AO3: (X)

William Poindexter is 99% sure he’s in love. Derek is perfect; he understands Dex, he knows how to push his buttons and when he shouldn’t. He’s the flowing, eloquent stream that runs through William’s ravine of rough edges. The only problem? Their tattoos don’t match.

That’s the 1% for Dex. After almost two years of knowing Derek, two long years of fighting and bickering and debating and flirting and falling in love, he still isn’t really sure. Even if he is in love with him, how do you even go about loving someone you know isn’t your soulmate?

He’s tried convincing himself that maybe somehow, Derek’s really does match his. He knows that Derek has a few, but the one he focuses on is the large band on his upper right arm. Dex was born with one on his upper left. A simple, small sun. He’s tried justifying his feelings in every possible way.

Maybe it doesn’t have to do with what the tattoos are, but their size. Mine is small and his is big. Maybe opposites attract? Maybe it has something to do with the colors. Maybe they match through relation to some kind of ancient belief system? Yeah, he’s gone there. All he’s left with is a pile of maybes, hollow and empty and too heavy to get rid of.

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rush-cal  asked:

rush-cal (again bc diff url and we're close na)

The most resilient girl I know. She patiently waits for his come back despite the distance. Her heart has already been taken yet she feels hurt. Time has not been on her side. The challenges she’s been through tested her to the core and she emerged victorious, like the phoenix rising from the ashes. She turns them into inspiration and motivation to keep on living in this world full of darkness. She strives hard to prove something. No one can mess with her for she’ll just give you a stare down. Literally. Hang in there. Cling to the light, @rush-cal.

You’ve Got A Friend In Me

For @divineplanets who requested: “Could you write something where the reader is depressed and they’re like sobbing on Owens shoulders and he tries to cheer her up but it’s not working so he goes and gets her her favorite food? i don’t know I’m dumb”

A/n: When I write about depression I understand that everyone is different, but I try my best to be accurate based on how I feel. I hope this is what you were looking for Hun. Not as much dialogue as I had wanted, but it is what it is I guess! Enjoy!

You’ve been strong. You’ve been so very strong. When you depression hit you full force earlier this week, you tried to escape it. You tried spending more time at work, calling your parents back home, even going out for drinks with a co-worker one night, but you always ended up back in your bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling so….empty.

It started getting hard for you to get up in the morning, and your friend even commented on how you seemed ‘out of it’ lately. If she only knew the half of it. But you would never tell her. It’s not her burden to bear and she would probably just blow it off anyway as so many people have done before claiming, “You should just stop being sad and be happy,” and things like, “a lot of people have it worse than you, you have no reason to be depressed.” And for that reason, you keep it to yourself…usually. However, when Owen walked into the employee room and found you crying, he didn’t blow it off or even ask what was wrong; he simply came to sit next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

Owen has been very kind to you since you started working with him, and even flirted occasionally, but you’d never told him about your depression or even had this much contact with him before. But your will to be held and cry it all out trumped your will to get up and run so you turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his shoulder and crying.

It was actually nice- cathartic really- and by the time your demons receded and you could start thinking clearly again, Owen was running a hand down your back soothingly. You had never done this with anyone before: just held onto them and cried and you don’t really know what to do or say next so your face burns with embarrassment when you realize you’re still holding onto him. You pull back, his arms slowly unwrapping from around you and you glance up at him through your eyelashes, knowing your face is as red as a tomato.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what-”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off, shaking his head. You notice absentmindedly that one of his hands never quite made it off of your body and is resting on your hip. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You’ve never seen Owen look at you quite like this. His normal smirk that is almost always on his face is replaced with a soft frown and his normally shining eyes are filled with concern. You wonder if maybe Owen cares about you a little more than you originally thought, but you push that thought back. He’s just being kind. He raises his eyebrows ever so slightly and you realize he asked you a question.

No. No you definitely do not want to talk about it. Not with him. Not here. Not ever, really.  

You shake your head, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of your face as your frown. “No, not really.” He simply nods, that sad expression still on his face. You wonder what you did to deserve having this amazing man look at you with such care and something sparks in your mind: a drunken memory that seems more like a dream than reality. You can’t even remember if it really happened, but you can’t believe that you could just imagine that face.

It was earlier in the week when you went out to have drinks with Owen. After the long night, you walked outside to find it raining and when you said you would just run to your car, Owen tried to talk you out of it.

“You’re gonna get soaked, why don’t I go get your car and pull it up?” He asked, holding out his hand for your keys, but you brushed him off. And you remember now, very clearly, saying something very stupid in your drunken stupor.

“I’m fine. I can outrun it.” You wink and then peel your heels off and before you take off through the parking lot, you say, “Hell, I’ve been running from my depression all week.” And just like that you took off through the rain.  You remember looking back at him for a split second as you ran and seeing that look on his face, the one he’s giving you right now, as he stares at you silently.

You remain silent, not wanting to be the one to have to say anything. But after a few seconds, Owen’s face breaks into a small smile, though not quite reaching his eyes.

“What do you say we play hooky for the rest of the day and go out.” He says, a halfhearted teasing grin on his face. Your depression isn’t something you like to talk about. Maybe to your therapist every once in awhile when you’re back home, but you prefer to just deal with it on your own. And somehow, Owen accepted that right away. He didn’t push or press or ask questions, he just saw that you didn’t want to talk about it and changed the subject. And for that, you are extremely grateful. You smile at his suggestion and nod your head.

“That actually sounds great.” You say, a bit sheepishly, still very embarrassed for breaking down in front of him. But somehow, you feel like your relationship with Owen has reached a new level. You realize you can confide in him, if you choose to talk about it. He will understand and that’s the kind of friend you really need. He stands up, and holds out a hand to help you up, but his hand holds onto yours a little longer than necessary and the blush on your cheeks returns in full force again.

Okay…so maybe you like him a little more than just as an understanding friend… but you’re sure not going to tell him that.

“How about chinese?” He asks, walking towards the door and holding it open for you. You glance to the mirror above the break room sink to make sure you look at least presentable, and not like you’ve been sobbing for a half hour. You quickly turn your attention back to him and give him the best smile you can muster. You see his eyes light up, and a little bit of that worry fade away and you assume your smile must have been convincing. In fact, it almost convinced you that everything was okay. You know the depression has just been pushed away for the time being just by being with owen, but you know it will come back eventually. However, you decide to focus on being happy while you can and you nod and respond.

“My favorite!”

Across The Stars

My take on a force-bond and the beginning of Ben Solo’s descent into the darkness that is Kylo Ren.

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Rey

Setting: Pre-TFA AU

Links: AO3

When Ben Solo is nine years old, he wakes up screaming.

All the way across the galaxy, among the grit and the sweltering heat of a small sandy planet, a baby is born.

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imagine-ikebukuro  asked:

Hey, Liane from r-f-a-scenarios here! I couldn't find a rules page for your blog, so if there's anything about this request bothering you, feel free to ignore it. I'm really in the mood for deep DEEP ANGST! Headcanons for how the RFA members react to their s/o breaking up with them? And, a little extra if you want: How do they feel seeing their ex (either in the chatroom or in public)? Do they ignore them or act like everything's normal?

Hello children it is Time to Suffer 

(I love how y’all are getting into the deep dark stuff right off the bat mmmm yes bring on the angst)

I did make a rules post but it’s really generic right now (nothing racist, derogatory, be nice to each other, etc) but this is totally within the limits of what I’ll write so strap yourselves in and get ready for some Hurt. I tried to give each character a distinct and different outcome/coping method, I hope you enjoy it!!

OKAY WOW THESE TURNED INTO FICLETS I’M SO SORRY BUT ALSO NOT???? I swear I started off as just bullet-pointed headcanons but hooty hoo things snowballed super quick I’m sorry Yoosung’s is kinda of long I really got carried away with his aaaah

under a read more because IT GOT SUPER LONG SUPER FAST I’M SORRY

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In December (we hate the world)

25 Days Christmas Romance Challenge || Day 19

It’s Character A’s first Christmas since a tragedy.

(header by the incredibly sweet and talented @katie-dub)

In December (we hate the world); ~ 3, 900 words; FF.NET || AO3

They meet in March. He – a blur of blue flannel and flying frisbees, fresh off his ship and unshaven, beer on his breath and exhilaration in his veins, bright eyed, 27 and on top of the bloody world, cursing Will for the awkward throw and reaching his arm out as far as it will go. She – an adorable mess of tangled limbs and blonde curls, lips chapped and pink and pulled back in a snarl, coffee spilled all over her coat and eyes flashing in anger like gems just teasing him to reach out, cursing at him for not looking where he was literally throwing himself and rebuffing all of his apologies and offers to buy her another drink and pay for her dry-cleaning.

They have dinner in April. He – a combination of trembling insides and cocky smirks, hair refusing to remain in its carefully chosen and executed arrangement, twirling the single rose in his hand round and round just so he doesn’t scratch his bloody ear off, praying to every deity out there that he doesn’t blow his chance after frequenting her preferred coffee shop and working his blasted charms on her for weeks. She – a vision in red with teasing smiles and playful scowls, telling him not to spill anything over her ‘cause that’s her favourite dress, stealing food off his plate and nudging hers towards him, swiping the chocolate in the corner of her mouth and licking her thumb without the slightest clue about the silent roars of desire inside him, taking his hand to lead him down the street when they exit the restaurant minutes before closing time, slipping her fingers between his instead of putting on her gloves.

They go sailing in June. He – a picture of ease and confidence, feet planted firmly on the deck of his boat, carefree and proud, in his element and determined to give her everything she has been denied, enchanted by the stubborn way her hair keeps blowing in her face and the unreserved way she jumps and squeals in delight whenever the spray reaches her flushed cheeks, tugging at the ends of her sleeve to tip her into his lap, murmuring praises and promises against the hollow of her throat . She - a study in contentment, sunglasses perched low on her sunscreen-smeared nose, a childlike smile full of wonder and unadulterated joy permanently etched on her face, pointing at every single object on deck and asking him what it is and what’s it for, sneaking her arms around him and butting her nose into his shoulder blade, peppering his neck with kisses and breathing life to words he has been holding back all day.

They meet the friends and family in July. He – a personification of cool and collected, employing every single shred of charm and wit he possess to combat Elsa’s initially frigid stare, keeping his arm obviously but not possessively wrapped around Emma’s shoulders, soaking up every college story Elsa volunteers and laughing until Emma’s elbow almost crack one of his ribs, falling more and more in love with the rose colour high on her cheeks and the way she buries her face in his shoulder. She – a vibrating and irritable exposed wire, as much of a nervous wreck as he has ever seen her be, shaking Liam’s hand firmly with a crooked smile that won’t pick a corner of her month in which to settle, letting out a little yelp as his brother pulls her into a hug, smiling at him with what she will most assuredly deny but are obviously tears in her eyes.

He ships out in September. A confusing mix of craving the tumultuous waves and aching all over at the thought of being away from her, kissing each of her knuckles and confessing that not a day will go by without a thought of her, bunching up her sweater in his grip and murmuring in her ear about visiting her dreams every night. She – a heart-wrenching picture of strength and vulnerability, shining eyes and arms squeezing him so hard he thinks (hopes) he’ll have bruises for days, a trembling smile pressed against every inch of his face, words of present frustration and future patience.

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Tell Her You Love Her

Summary: The four times a member of their group tells Lucas to tell Riley that he loves her, and the one time he is told not to. Clique Six friendship fic with Rucas fluff.

Can also be read on and AO3


1. Maya

“Okay, Huckleberry. If you care about me, here’s what you do. Go find Riley. Tell her you lover her.”

His heart stops at her words and he stares at her for a moment. She is looking at him with determination in her eyes, her mind made up.

“Love her?” he repeats back.

“Just say it. We like it,” she waves him off and when she does, he gives her a wide smile. This is the Maya he knows, the Maya he can always be comfortable with, and he is so happy that this whole triangle business is over. He’s not hurt, and more importantly, neither is she.  

“Thank you,” he says as he wraps his arms around her, drawing her in for a hug. Maya rests her head on his shoulder for a while, and again, he is thankful. It’s not weird to show her any form of affection anymore. For the first time in a long while, it feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest.  

“What are friends for?”  

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Through the Rearview Mirror

summary: [AU] You would think no one sees you singing in your car, but the person in the car in front of you does.
pairing: Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura

The car was a person’s sanctuary just like the shower or the bed. Being able to belt out songs in the shower or getting to stay in your pajamas until 4 in the afternoon in bed was an unspoken right of passage. No one was allowed to criticize or judge you for that. It was that simple. And when it came to the car, well, it was another holy ground.

Some spend the time to do their makeup in the car. Others take a quick nap while parked next to a tree. And then there were some who blasted their car radio and singing the words to the lyrics of a song while tapping their fingers against their steering wheel to the beat. Usually reaches its peak during a waiting period for the traffic light to change from red to green. Haruno Sakura did all of the above.

But today she was singing a different anthem. Instead of her usual car tunes of pop music and electronic dance music, she had switched to a radio station that seemed to be playing break up songs. Noting the irony, she allowed the dial to remain on that station.

Having just ended a terrible relationship, she was in that limbo stage where she knew it was right for her to break it off with her jerk of an ex yet she still missed him and was wondering if it was a mistake to throw away a two year relationship. She was already 25 and if she wanted to have kids by 27 then she would need to marry by 26 in order to enjoy a year of honeymoon bliss. Since she wanted to date the guy for at least two years before marriage, then that meant she would have to have met them last year. 

Sakura sighed. She was already behind schedule in her life goals. As she stared mournfully at the car in front of her, Adele’s “Someone Like You” came on the radio. As the sad soulful tune began to fill the empty sounds of her car, Sakura gripped her steering wheel harder. 

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TVD 6x15 Reactions (gifs)

Another baby Caroline flashback

Damon tells Caroline exactly what she doesn’t need to hear(although it’s true…but still)

jo is sick and so is Kai and he says it’s because of the merge thing that didn’t go just as planned

Baby Salvatores flashbacks finally!

Damon gives another horrible advice to Stefan by telling him he should dump Caroline

Elena is actually not that bad on this episode

Stefan doesn’t say the right thing to Caroline

Damon to CareBear – “you’re a bright light in a sea of dark”

Bonnie is about to finally escape prison world just to be sent to Narnia

Where she enters the old Salvatore house in 1903 (those lights though)

Tyler comes drunk to the funeral

The whole funeral

Tyler and Matt are gonna be cops

Bonnie hops between 1994 to 1903

And when she is about to finally make it back she meets mama Salvatore!!!

Kai is fixed by taking jo’s magic!

Jo is pregnant

Jo and Alaric are going to get married

Stefan realizes he has feelings for Caroline!

But it’s too late cuz she turned off her humanity


Damon sees his mom for the first time after almost 200 years

They’re all dreaming?

OK so I’ve come up with a (partial) theory about EXO that I think could explain everything. Brace yourselves, this is gonna get quite long! 


Basically what I think is that everyone except Kai and Sehun are dreaming, and I’m saying this based on not just the way they are filmed (because Kai’s is COMPLETELY different to everyone else’s) but based on visual and sound clues that aren’t quite right. I also think that Kai and Sehun are trying to wake up the others through phones and the sound of the wind.

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But What If: Mythical Overwatch

You know what has always been a source of disappointment to me? The fact that Overwatch’s lore can be explained away by science. Don’t get me wrong, it has really in-depth back stories and A+ worldbuilding, it’s just, my first impressions were so much cooler. It struck me as a fantasy world that had been catapulted into the future.

I mean, come on, you have your race of dwarves/gnomes,

your alien immigrant from another solar system,

your mythical-dragon-deities-turned-human,

A wraith/shade/spectre

Your race of intelligent animal life that share the earth with humans,

your time traveler who settled in the future once he found out about tech,

a pair of mages (technomancer or light,

and necromancer cleric) Or maybe a literal angelic being, idk

The paladin who takes his job/the past way too seriously,

and the girl with reality-warping magic powers.

I mean, come on, how cool would WoW set in the future be? “Such potential!” But noooooo, you thought it was resurrection? Tech. Gorilla race? Genetically enhanced. Aliens? Just your average brainwashing.
Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely love Overwatch and all its lore, but come on, it could have been a teensy bit cooler.
(the chars I left out are the ones I didn’t know about until after I realized it wasn’t fantasy based.)

Minute and Far Away: Arrow 5X02 Review (The Recruits)

This episode was simply amazing. Everyone knows symbolism is my version of storytelling chocolate. Or cookies. Or cake. OR PIE. You get my drift. (Be right back. I need a snack.)

Hehe. That rhymed. Anywho, pick your fav goody and that’s what symbolism is for me. It’s almost like Arrow reached out through the TV and said, “Hey Jen. It’s been a rough hiatus. Here’s some chocolate mousse level symbolism in the form of GREEN LIGHT. Enjoy!”

Dear Arrow: Thank you. It couldn’t have been better if Stephen Amell said those words wearing only a towel. Okay… yeah. That would have been better, but it’s cool! I’m good!

Let’s dig in…

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oraclegazes  asked:

The dreamscape post is amazing, bless you for squashing my heart so! Imagine Fury briefing Bucky before he gets sent into the dreamscape and Bucky's struggle with submitting to all the medical equipment and the vulnerability of it all.

(The original dreamscape post is here. Reading it first is in no way compulsory, but things may make more sense.)

“What I’m about to say does not leave this room, understood?”

Bucky nods, not quite sure what he’s agreeing to. This was not the demeanor of a Director who was planning a memorial for a national icon seventy years dead.

“The reconnaissance teams found the plane,” Fury says, slowly, measuredly. “They located Captain Rogers’ body and treated him as a hypothermia victim, as a precaution, because, well…” Fury gestures politely in Bucky’s direction. Bucky nods again, slightly impatiently this time. There’s a fluttering starting in Bucky’s chest, somewhere between fear and hope.

“They found a pulse,” Fury says, in that same calm, careful tone. “And a while after that, he started breathing on his own.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Oh, fuck.” The fluttering surges up: panic and exhilaration and he—doesn’t—know—what. He closes his eyes, trying to ride it out. “Fuck.” Wild hope is closing up his throat, choking him. He squashes it, ruthlessly.

“What’s his brain scans look like?” he asks, roughly, because no one’s actually used the word ‘alive’ yet.

“No damage that they can see,” Fury says. “His brain scans come back not just normal but active.”

“Active,” Bucky echoes, and the fluttering is morphing into something that wants to be horrified shivers.

“He’s unconscious,” Fury says. “And given how fast the serum’s knit his broken bones back together, there’s no damn medical reason why he’s unconscious.” Fury opens the file on the desk. Bucky reaches for the photographs, realizes how hard he’s shaking, and lets Fury spread the photos out in front of him. There’s image after image of the twisted wreck, of Steve’s not—corpse looking so very dead.

“He lived through the crash,” Bucky whispers, touching the photo that showed Steve … half—excavated, his shield firmly on his arm. “He was awake for a while, maybe, enough to pick up his shield.”

“That’s the working theory,” Fury says.

Shit. Bucky rubs his temples. “I think I know where he might be. Sort of.” He very carefully doesn’t look up. “Sometimes — sometimes the cryosleep would go weird, and I’d be just…frozen, but conscious, and that was… awful. So I’d go somewhere else in my head and when they revived me again, I wasn’t there. I think — I think those were the times I’d wake up and there were wires in my skull and I’d be thrashing around like a fish on a hook. Let’s…” He raises his gaze to Fury who stares back, quite still. “Let’s not do that to Steve.”

“Let’s not,” Fury agrees quietly.

Bucky exhales soundlessly. “Point is, if Steve was conscious for a while after the crash, freezing into something like cryosleep because the serum was keeping him alive…he might have left for a while, too. He might be down deep enough that he doesn’t know it’s safe to come back.”

Fury’s very sigh indicates he thinks this is a stupid—ass idea, but he pushes another file towards Bucky, this one labeled Top Secret, too, but also Stark Industries and Experimental. “There might be a way to go and get him.”

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anonymous asked:

hi!!! if you're still taking prompts: pynch + keys please :)

hi anon! here you go! this is about the places adam lives. sort of. thank you for reading !! it’s on ao3 here.

Over the summer, Adam continues to stay at St Agnes. It’s an absurd thought, to move to the Barns immediately, within months of a first kiss, eighteen years old and headed for college in another state soon anyway. He keeps St Agnes and he leaves the Barns at midnight every night like he might turn into a pumpkin if he’s late. It’s stark and bare in a way that never bothered him before, because it was his stark and bare, but it bothers him now. It pulls sweat from every pore and plasters his hair to his forehead and it bothers him because somehow the Barns is always the perfect temperature.

“Did you dream the air here?” he asks Ronan one night. They are sitting on the deck, watching Opal try to catch flying insects before they kill themselves on light bulbs. Adam’s head is in Ronan’s lap. Ronan’s hands are in Adam’s hair. He laughs and Adam can feel it at the core of him.

“Nope,” he says. “Maybe my dad did.” He says it like it might be true too, like Niall Lynch could dream up the atmosphere, a perfect summer night, and then Adam thinks that maybe his father dreamed up the space Adam takes up in the world. The atoms that touch his skin, the edges of him and the strange nothing feeling he has about his body. A feeling like moving through sand, like if he opened his mouth the earth would fall down his throat.

“I should go,” he says, but he doesn’t move.

“You should stay,” says Ronan, but his fingers still in Adam’s hair.

“You’re stupid,” says Opal, pulling the wings off a dead fly. Adam isn’t sure who she’s talking to.

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