the words are supposed to be crooked

anonymous asked:

prompt for rebelcaptain: soulmate au where they meet in dreams before they actually meet

As Though from a Dream

“You believe in soulmates, don’t you, Andor?”

Cassian is sixteen, still young enough that he hasn’t yet forgotten how to laugh.

“And you do, Martog?” he asks the skinny boy across from him in the mess hall of the latest Rebellion base on Talus.

Martog spoons a thick stew into his mouth and pouts. “I thought everyone believed in soulmates.”

“I believe in them,” Eller Myr says. Eller, who will not live to see twenty, pulls up the sleeve of his tunic to show them a purple mark near the crook of his elbow. It’s the size of thumbnail. If someone squinted and wanted to believe it hard enough, it could have been described as being shaped like a star. “It’s my soulmark. My other will have the same one on their arm.”

“I thought you were supposed to know your soulmate by the first word they spoke to you,” Alicele Fosbos says. She pushes the blonde hair out of her eyes and frowns deeply.

Eller shakes his head. “No, it’s definitely by a soulmark.”

“But I don’t have a soulmark,” Alicele says, her face falling.

“Maybe it will appear soon,” Eller says, putting a comforting arm on her shoulder.

“What happens if your soulmates dies before you meet them?” Alicele asks, but Eller has no answer. Nobody has an answer. They don’t ask the question’s twin: What happens if you die first?

Martog glares at Cassian. “If you don’t believe in this, then what do you believe in then, Andor?”

This time, it is Eller who laughs at Martog. “Don’t you know already? He believes in the Rebellion. That’s his soulmate.”

Cassian blanks his face and takes a sip of water. He feigns a carefree shrug. He doesn’t tell them about the dark haired, green-eyed girl who haunts his dreams.


The first time he dreams of her, she’s running on a black sand beach. The waves crash, violent on the shore, and without knowing how, he knows she needs to stay away, that he needs to stay away. There are sneaker waves here that will tear a man out to sea and drown him before anyone even knows he is missing. But she seems to know this. She runs toward the moss-green mountains and he can almost feel the cool air on his skin. When she vanishes from his dream, he wakes.

She grows up with him. Her skinny legs and braided hair change into womanly curves and a severe bun on the back of her head. The land where he first dreams of her changes from fire and ice to jungle to desert. He knows her and he doesn’t know her. He wracks his memory, trying to think of where they might have met, where she can be placed in all his travels, but it’s a reflexive habit, him trying to apply logic to something knows has no logic.
For two months she visits him every night, but the dreams are awash in blood, and he wakes up, heart pounding. He requests a handful of sleep aids, and for the first week, he is dreamless. But when the pills run out, she returns, and for the first time he feels her make eye contact with him.

It is then that he hears his name on her lips. “Cassian?”

He jerks awake, drenched in a cold sweat. He requests more pills until eventually, he needs to see her again, until the sensation claws at him during his waking hours.

He has come to admit that she is always going to be a part of him. He just doesn’t know why. Not yet.


“We need to find Liana Hallik,” Draven says in the briefing. Cassian sits next to Alicele and Captain Rois, watching their silent nods.

On the screen, the dossier flashes with Hallik’s aliases, her list of crimes and last locations. And then the blue holo follows, blinking to life, a phantom from his dreams.

He feels the blood drain out of his face.

“That is, she goes by Hallik. Her real name is the one that is important: Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso, Imperial scientist.”

Cassian struggles to find his voice. His tongue is twisted; his mouth is dry. The words burn as they leave his lips. “Let me do this, sir,” he says. “Let me find her.” Her face is etched on his heart. He could find her blindfolded or in the dark of space; he would find her or he would not stop until he did.

Draven won’t deny him this request—Cassian knows this. He is their best spy, by a mile. It is his job to have.

“Find her, then,” Draven says, shutting the screen down. “And bring her in.”

Bring her home.

He dreams of her again that night. This time, he says her name, and she looks at him. Jyn.


“When was the last time you were in contact with your father?” he asks her. What he really wants to say is “How is it that you are real?”


He had expected her to return, and when she is gone too long, he goes to find her. Cassian finds Jyn in the cargo bay of the ship as it glides through the gate toward Scarif.

“You told everyone?” he asks, but he knows that she did. He can still feel where she squeezed his arm. There’s a heat burning in his belly, one that’s gone from ember to flame in the space of a week.

She holds her pendant in her hand and looks at him. “Do you believe in another life after this one?” she asks. She turns her eyes to him, and he sees the girl in his dreams.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you believe that after we die, we get to live again, somehow, maybe as someone else?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” he admits. “You believe this?” he asks, as Bodhi brings the ship down to what Cassian knows to be a suicide mission. From her expression, he knows Jyn feels the same.

“I have to. How can it be fair that this is the only chance we get?”

(We’ll take the next chance. And the next. On and on until the chances are spent.)


He’s dying, but he’s not alone. His wound bleeds him of his energy, but Jyn carries him. She carries him, she carries him.

In the turbolift, they can only look at one another and see the the life they should have had, the one together. He could kiss her. She could kiss him. But would it mean anything more than what they already share?

On the beach, she holds him close and tells him this: “I dreamed of you.” And he understands. It wasn’t just him all this time. It was her, too. It was always them.

The rising wave approaches: water and land; the disappearing horizon.

Do you believe in another life after this one?

I have to. How can it be fair that this is the only chance we get?

The light comes to swallows them whole, and he is filled with a strange and awful ache, one full of wonder and loss and pain. “Find me again,” he says softly, and he feels her tears against his face.

And before he draws his last breath in this life, he hears her answer, as though from a dream, a whispered I will, and he finds that in that ache, there is peace, too.

Shifted - Part 7, Chapter 2

In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…

Part 7 - The Visitor

Lallybroch, Autumn 1762

“There’s been a stranger in the village these past few days.”

“Really? Where’d you hear that?”

Jenny’s eyes stayed trained on her knitting. “Weel, one of the lads at school told Katherine, and Katherine told Young Jamie, and Young Jamie actually met him yesterday.”

“Any idea where he’s from?” Claire turned the page of her herbal and continued transcribing the receipt for a salve to soothe aching joints. She had been tinkering with different ideas for how to improve the hand cream she’d made for Jamie – most of which he’d used up by now – so that it was not only fragrant but more effective.

“He’s Scots, from the sound of it. But a queer kind of Scots – Young Jamie said that he used words he’d never heard anyone use before.”

Claire stilled. “Did he say what, exactly?”

Jenny paused to rearrange the balls of yarn in her knitting basket. “No – ye can ask him at supper tonight, I suppose.”

Something cold ran down Claire’s spine – but before she could ask another question, William darted into the parlor.

“Mama! Mrs. Crook says she needs ye – one of the servants has burned her arm in the kitchen.”

Claire sighed and rose. “Fetch me the white jar from my surgery, please, love. I’ll go take a look.”


“I’ll go wi’ ye tomorrow,” Jamie said quietly, stroking her shoulder with his thumb.

Young Jamie hadn’t revealed much at supper – just that the stranger was, quite literally, tall, dark and handsome. Scots, but not from the Highlands. Educated, definitely. Clearly a city man, not a farmer.

And he had been asking whether there was an English healer in the area named Claire.

“For once I won’t argue with you,” she said softly. Her right hand rested in the center of his chest, body flush with his side. “Brianna told me today that she’d always known there was something different about me, in the way I speak. That I use words she’d never heard before, or read before.”

“William told me the same thing.”

“That’s exactly how Young Jamie described this stranger. That he used words he’d never heard before.” She paused. “Do you think – could it be another person like me?”

Jamie’s hand stilled and he tucked her tighter against his side. “I suppose anything is possible, Sassenach. But I won’t leave ye to go meet this man, unprotected. I dinna like how he’s asking for ye when he’s clearly not wounded. And if he’s come from your own time, weel.”

She sighed. “I suppose you know where he’s been staying, then?”

He smiled. “No’ much ever gets past me – the tenants always feel amiss when there’s a stranger in the neighborhood.” He paused, thoughtful. “Though when I think about it, they still feel amiss about you. So.”

He lowered his body so they were face to face on the pillow, noses touching. His hips moved to be flush with hers. Slowly, slowly his lips met hers.

He twined their fingers together, pressing his C to her J.

Claire gasped against his lips. He kissed her again.

She pulled back after a long moment. “When we touch there,” she breathed softly, licking her lips, “every time, it feels like – like I’m about to peak.”

He eased their joined hands downward and gently guided himself inside her. They both gasped.

“Slow, mo nighean donn,” he whispered. “Give me all your bonny noises. And know I will never, ever let anyone harm ye.”

A Little Reminder (Jumin x MC)

Jumin comes home one night and finds you in one of his shirts.

Word Count: 520

I haven’t done much today but I’m watching Ghost Hunters so you know I’m living life to the fullest. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have a fantastic day! Thank you!


The evening had shifted into night with pools of blue painting the sky as you lay on the sofa, the sound of the front door opening chiming across the home. 

You shot up, rushing over to find your husband, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he saw you.

You were wearing one of his collared shirts, even the cuffs sleeves rolled up to your elbows as if this was casual. 

“Darling, are you wearing my shirt?” He chuckled softly, pulling you into an embrace. 

“How’d you know?” You snickered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Perhaps I’m just that intuitive,” He hummed. “but what happened to your clothes dear?”

“They’re being washed. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Oh no, I don’t, but I would be happy to have a shirt better fitting you, be made.” He said, furrowing his brow almost. 

“You don’t need to do that though, I like this!” You beamed. “It’s nice!” 

“How so?” 

“Well…” You tried to think of how to explain it. “It’s…it’s almost like you’re never really gone! It’s just a little reminder of you.” 

“A reminder of me…”  He repeated the words, almost seeming guilty. “Does that mean you miss me when I’m gone, love?”

“Of course I do! I always tell you that!” You exclaimed, cupping his face in your hands. “This house just isn’t the same without you.” 

He melted at your words, adoration drenching gaze before the gears in his head began to turn, stepping away and moving towards the bedroom.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, following shortly after him, tipping your head just beyond the door frame.

“I’m truly sorry I can’t be here more often darling, I wish I could but this week has been especially busy. I promise to take the next few days off when it dies down.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” You reassured him, inching closer. “I know how important your work is-” 

You stopped as you watched him snatch one of his shirts from his drawers, spraying his cologne onto the fabric.

“What’re you doing…?” 

He looked to you, giving a crooked smile. “Even if I’m gone I want to do as much as I can to help ease the loneliness. I certainly know how it feels, and I’d hate for you to have to deal it if I could help it somehow.” 

You could hardly believe his words, rushing forward to pepper his face in kisses, ruffling his hair in your fingertips. 

“How can you be so wonderful?” You said, scrunching up your nose as his messy strands of hair curled about your hands.

“I suppose I just had a good influence.” 

“And who was that from?” 



Gif source:  Sam

Imagine doing research in a library with Sam during a hunt and when you get up to find another book, he goes after you and you wind up not finding the book because he distracts you by pinning you to the bookshelf and making out with you.

——— Request for anon ———

Sam tapped his pen on the book in front of him as he watched you disappear behind the bookshelf. Finally deciding on something, he drops the pen and abandons the table the two of you had claimed, figuring the books would be more than enough to keep it until he returned from hurrying after you.

You notice Sam round the corner after you as you caught the motion in your peripheral, causing you to abandon skimming the numbers that organized the books, as he quickly invaded your space with a raised brow, “Sam, what—?”

“Shh,” Sam puts a finger to his lips before his hands come to your jawline, tilting your face upwards before pressing them against yours. You melt into his kiss like you always do, the research you’d been doing going to the back of your mind as Sam presses you between himself and the metal shelves of this library’s bookshelf. The smell of books give way to Sam’s cologne, his hair brushing your face as he leans into you, swallowing your giggle.

“Sam,” you gasp in a whisper against his lips when you pull back just enough to smack him softly on the chest, “we’re supposed to be working!” Sam’s lip quirk into a crooked smile as he pecks you on the lips between his words, urging you to give into him for now.

“And,” peck, “we,” peck, “are.”

As if you could argue with that.

anonymous asked:

"You look so comfy, and cuddle-able"

A/N: Sorry this took so long anon!! Hope you like it! :) 

You open the door to his room just a crack. Dawn filters in through the window to his room, the gentle rays illuminating his sleeping face. He’s lying on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, the other arm sprawled out over the other side of the bed. His chest moves up and down gradually, his breaths quiet and regular. You open the door and enter, quietly shutting the door behind you and then quietly padding over to the bed.

Your eyes are still bleary with sleep, but even so, you can see his hair sticking out in odd directions. No doubt, he’s going to have a difficult time taming the wild strands later.

The bed dips beneath your weight as you crawl up the bed towards Saeran’s sleeping form as soundlessly as you can manage. The creaking of the mattress doesn’t exactly help your case though. He stirs a little, eyebrows dipping into a frown and he rolls a bit so he’s now lying on his side, facing you.

A tiny smile graces your lips. You feel an urge to touch his hair, so you do. Carefully weaving your fingers through his terrible bed hair, you marvel at how soft it is, and resist another urge to ruffle his hair. That would definitely wake him up.

Not that it would have mattered anyway. Because he wakes up soon after you slide under the covers and lie next to him, resting your head on the pillow next to him, his arm under your shoulders and your body pressing up against his.

“W… What’re you doing here?” he slurs a little, peeking an eye open and arching a curious brow at your uninvited presence. He turns over to the other side, presumably to glance at his digital clock hanging on the wall.

“It’s early…” he mutters, turning back to face you, but he doesn’t oppose to your presence on the bed. He shifts a little more to the side to give you more space, and wraps an arm around your shoulder as you nestle your head in the crook of his neck, and rest your hand over his beating chest. You can already feel his steadily increasing pulse under your fingertips.

“Sorry, I just…” You close your eyes to think for a bit. Your brain is still rather slow, and the words don’t come immediately. “You just look… comfy. And kinda cudde-able.” You’re unwilling to admit that it was a little nightmare and an overall unsettling night that got you up early enough to rouse him from his sleep.

He breathes out a puff of air, and tightens his grip around your shoulders. You suppose that means he’s rather agreeable to this spontaneous arrangement.

“Fine,” he says, closing his eyes and ready to go back to sleep. “I’ll be your dreamcatcher for a while.”

A jolt runs through you, and you raise your head to look up at him. His eyes are still closed, and his breaths are starting to slow down already.

“Saeran…” Your question goes unvoiced: How did you..?

“Just go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He’s starting to sound like you, back when you stayed by his side on nights that he woke up shaking, his skin coated with a sheen of cold sweat and his mind reeling from the frightening, haunting images of the monsters in his nightmares.

You suppose it isn’t that surprising that he can see through you so easily, given all that he’s experienced before.

Warmth fills your chest, and it spreads to the tips of your toes. Lying back down, you close your eyes and your lips stretch into a content smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur, voice drifting along with your consciousness as the both of you slip back into a peaceful sleep on a quiet, halcyon morning.

Heartbreak | Preview

Pairing: Jimin x Reader x ??

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 208

↠ Masterlist | ↠ Ask

Originally posted by nochuie

“Did you ever feel like you have no place to go? Did you ever feel helpless and alone?”

Looking up at the dark sky, you observed the tiny raindrops as you thought about the things that were happening in your life. You run away. From him, your stupid family, and their stupid marriage contract. Yes, you were forced to marry him in order to be able to pay off your father’s debt. He was the rich boy and you were the poor girl. He wasn’t in love with you. Heck, he even hated you! Not that you cared. You were in love with someone else. That someone who was sitting beside you, his arms wrapped around your body, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

That someone, who was the brother of the person you were supposed to marry..

You took a deep breath and looked down at him. “What will happen to us? I can’t go back to that house..”

Placing a heartwarming kiss on your neck, he reached out for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. “We can be each other’s home.”

Smiling at his words, you leaned your forehead on his and whispered. “I’ll be yours,” he kissed the tip of your nose and ended your sentence with his beautiful smile “and you’ll be mine.”

anonymous asked:

65. You make me feel invincible- Victuuri! Go mar!!! 💖

Ahhh thank you! <3

This got longer than anticipated, whoops. 

(anime/yoi only blog: @viktorkatsuki)

“Viktorrrrrrr!” Yuuri leans in close enough that Viktor can smell the scent of alcohol riding the slurred syllables of his own name, and presses his hands to both sides of Viktor’s face. “How are your eyelashes so long?”

Viktor shrugs, grins at his very drunk boyfriend and reaches out to place a steadying hand on the small of his back. “I guess I was born that way!”

Yuuri squints. His cheeks are flushed and his stare is very, very intent on Viktor’s face. “They’re so long,” he marvels, clumsily tilts Viktor’s face this way and that, examining him from all angles. “Yurio! Come look at how long Viktor’s eyelashes are!”

“Hard pass,” Yurio answers. He doesn’t even look up at the two of them, his eyes glued to his phone, sitting in an armchair amidst the remnants of the dinner party their friends had left behind. 

Fortunately, Yuuri doesn’t seem too bothered. He just continues to examine Viktor’s face with the singleminded determination of someone discovering something magical and life changing. Sure, Viktor knows he’s handsome, but this is definitely mostly the liquor. 

Still, you’d have to be made of stone for Yuuri’s compliments to have no affect on you. Viktor is very decidedly not made of stone, and he’s not at all ashamed of the slight warmth he can feel blooming in his cheeks. What can he say; there’s no one in the world he’d rather compliment him than Yuuri. 

Keep reading

The [Once] Demon Barber From Robintree

Status: Complete
Word Count: 1.4K  
Category: One-shot, Ask, Friendship-Turns-To-More, Humor
Rating: Teen & Up
Character(s): Dean, Sam, You/Female O.C.
Pairing(s): Sam x You/Female O.C.
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Reader “Ask” is HERE.
Overall Summary: Sometimes accidents *do* happen accidentally, but most of the time, turns out it’s Dean. Now you might lose something you’ve worked hard for - though when it comes to Sam, perhaps you’ll gain something more.


“Peanut butter.”

“Second thing I tried.”

“Olive oil.”

“Third thing.”

“Wait, what was the first thing?”

“When Dean used two handfuls of a $40, six-ounce, brand-new tube of my conditioner.”

“Oh, shut up, Sam!” Dean exclaimed, and when he did, my head snapped to the side.

Because he was in a hand-talking mood. Because he was annoyed. And because his fingers were tangled in my hair.

So I jabbed my elbow behind me, but he dodged it and snickered.

“I’m gonna go get the scissors.”

No!” Sam and I shouted at the same time.

Keep reading

This is something I have been trying to write for months and months. Forgive me if it goes astray from being coherent or making sense… but the last however long it’s been amount of months that I have been absent from your life has been a time of paradoxical strangeness, indifference and outright mental solitude and exhibition at the same time. I write in a way in which I am comfortable.. so if it seems outlandish, false or full of hyperbole then I apologize. At this moment in life, the catharsis of just putting these words finally out is already doing much towards my recovery.

This is for you… but more so for me.  

“…this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board washed and bound like crooked teeth…”

I suppose I should begin by apologizing, mostly to those who cared for me most.. those whom which I was deeply engaged with in one way or another, those who most likely felt abandoned upon my swift exit. I am truly sorry… and while apologies are words fleeting off into eternity, and while I could sit and try to explain myself, I don’t know how much it would matter. You can however take the absolutely barren feeling deep within my guts as an indication of how I feel about the impact I know i potentially caused.  

Sometimes what is most necessary in our lives is not what is comfortable or even right to others. Sometimes our greatest triumphs come from our worst tragedies. Sometimes you just cannot explain yourself, your actions, or your feelings in a way that makes sense to others. And that’s ok.

I didn’t know at the time how much and in what ways that grief would affect me. Unfortunately for others, it affected me in a way that ripped me out of everything from my comfort zone to my existence in your life. In all my endless diatribes and moments of influence and advice, I always advocated that it was okay to show weakness… to lean on those who love you, and in that moment when the reality of my own situation came into fruition… I failed.  

I failed to realize that it would be alright for me to show myself as vulnerable, and I failed to lean on you for the comfort and support I so desperately needed at the time. I failed you and everyone else who needed me most, and when I needed you all most I walked away and rejected what was openly available to me. For that… I am truly sorry.

To ask where I have been… is to look into the ocean.  

“….always running out of fight so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea…”

My life has been a raging crashing tempest, mixed with medication.. ups, downs, failures, progress and revelations. I never realized a person and their death from this earth could crush me the way it did.. especially given the circumstances. I spend so much time keeping myself shrouded in mystery and carefully constructed walls.. so I will be as transparent as possible.

Prior to his death, I had not spoken to him in a major amount of years. I had no resolve for the events of my childhood… for his absence in my life… for the things he did and did not do, and everything else in between. Like many and perhaps most reading this, my parents ended their marriage when I was rather young. What followed was years of ignorance, years of not knowing my worth to anyone… years of solitude and quest for significance. Along the way there were flimsy glimmers of hope… a random card here, a 20 dollar bill there, a passing wave while walking down the street… but otherwise he was content to his own, and I soon became to mine.  

As I grew older I developed this sense that I would never really know him, and in his final years I so desperately wanted to. Letter after letter.. call after call… all unanswered… all ignored.. and these fleeting blurry memories in my mind. The last time I saw him, he hugged me and told me he was proud of me. He smiled that big smile… and told me he would call.  

6 years of silence later, I saw him again for the first time… laying in a bed half covered and struggling for life. No one told me he had been sick, no one informed me that he had but moments to live. There are many would haves… could haves.. should haves…  

there are many never dids, never weres and now.. never will be.  

I never got to speak with him because he was never awake. I simply sat there that day clutching his large hands, softly stroking his falling out white hair… and wishing he would wake up and give me that huge smile… that his blue eyes like oceans would gaze at me. Every time I tried to leave that room, I couldn’t… I kept turning back. “He’s going to wake up 5 seconds after I’m gone.”… I had to be physically restrained and removed.

And he didn’t wake up.  

The funeral was overwhelming. Public. And that’s when everything was learned…  

How this person who was a ghost to me most of my life was so much to so many other people. How he was a superhero among his community and the communities of others. How he had helped so many other children, families and friends… how valued he was to everyone except me. Even the governor showed up.. the news… the papers.. … amongst the literal close to a thousand others who did to be washed in the media circus and the aftermath of a life that I was now finding out was actually well lived. Each with a story about him. Each with a laugh. Each with a smile.

But not me. All I had was a hastily put together book of pictures and clippings and remembrances. And even that would be taken from me.  

In the end I was left with nothing… and now all these months later…  

I still have nothing. And all I want is closure. And it is something that I will never have.  

“….we only have what we remember…”

I returned home and immediately went into grief counseling the same day. I fired my therapist for a new one.. I became medicated,… I took advice… changed the things in my life.. my eating.. my feelings.. got a therapy dog.. I did what I was told, advised and ordered.. fired my therapist again… and so forth and so on…. and I needed some time away.

But the more time I spent away, the further I slipped into myself… the further I slipped away from you, and this, and everything important to my life. The more guilty I felt for leaving… the more overwhelmed I became by the thoughts that everyone would be angry at me.. and the longer I was gone, the more I pushed myself farther.

Sometimes a person can live with such regret for their actions that it causes them to perform them more.

I never expected any of this.  

I never expected to feel the way I did. to end up how I did. to be gone so long. to be so isolated and gone. I didn’t feel worthy of having others depend on me for anything when I felt like I was nowhere near able to be dependable. My strength had been robbed.. my ability to be this strong pillar of value had gone away.

This one person in my life, who was never really in my life… affected it in such a way as to completely separate me from everything I knew and loved and my entire existence and made me question beyond reason…  and I will never have the answers I need. I crave. I deserve…  Yes, therapy has been going great… yes I have made many strides.. yes, I have changed in many ways… but…  

Its taken a really long time to find myself here again. To even consider myself able to be here.

Things still aren’t even anywhere close to how I want them to be mentally and emotionally… and they probably never will be. Because he cannot wake up to explain this life I have endured to me… he wont wake up to give me closure.  

They say that everyone grieves in their own way. I chose to make mine destructive to others by cutting the snake off at its head… I just didn’t realize how it would affect anyone in my life it until it was too late.  

And then I woke up yesterday… and felt I was able to sit down… and do what I had been wanting to do for a very long time.  

And then, I logged into my tumblr for the first time in 9 months…  

“…Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected our bones grown together inside our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided our spines grown stronger in time because our church is made out of shipwrecks from every hull these rocks have claimed but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change so come on y'all and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach…”

I spent the better part of my day yesterday going through 2000+ messages I have received since March. The well wishes, the love, the thoughts and expressions of gratitude. the pictures, the stuffies, the hundreds of PM’s… the puppies and kitties..the boobs, the butts, the smiles, the drawings..  the socks and knee highs.. the physical exhibitionist expressions of gratitude… the hamsters and snakes and gerbils..the anons and the faithful.. . the continuing follows and questions and request for bedtime stories.. the small paragraphs from those whose lives had been utterly changed just by spending 15 minutes reading my material… those who discovered me while i was gone and had their lives changed instantly.… the fact that on a daily basis I am still getting all of these, even though I have been an apparition for the better part of almost a year…. and for the first time since March, I felt sparks of Daddy space flickering inside of me. Since March I have been totally empty and desolate.

I discovered in my submissions, asks and pm section… in the 2000+ followers gained while I was away.. People still continue to care about me.. to wonder… to keep me in their thoughts. a truly humbling feeling considering that I expected to log in for the first time since March and see nothing but disappointment from everyone. I expected people to feel like I didn’t care about them. and that is absolutely not true at all. I laughed and cried.. I felt regret… I felt guilt and shame… I felt happiness and love… my jaw hit my desk a few times.. and ultimately I figured out that I do still matter. But then I don’t really know if I do…  

It all just leaves me asking for forgiveness… mainly for falling off for so long. mainly because I know the effects it had.. mainly because I feel absolutely wrecked and sick about it all.  

But what comes from pain and suffering is what you create from that pain and suffering. What is left over is what you decide. Its not easy, its not simple. Believe me.. my life is anything but simple in these last 9 months… but I discovered that this lifestyle will never leave me, even if I leave it. It will always be there, because it is who I am. It is what I am. It is everything I have ever been… so should I come back? Should I… even be worthy of returning?  

I guess I will wait and see… because this blog was always for you. the littles.. the daddies.. the struggling.. the hurt… the lost.. the broken and distraught. The ones just like yourself.. and just like me. And despite sometimes being a total jerk.. despite sometimes disappearing… despite all of my own problems… I always did everything I did to better the lives of others in so that they may succeed. I didn’t always achieve that goal.. and sometimes I probably even prevented it.  

And I am sorry.  Please… please please…. forgive me.

If I could go back to 9 months ago, tell myself then what I know now.. tell myself then how it would all turn out… and give myself that wisdom to be able to handle it all properly, then this would never have been written.  

But what’s done is how it was all meant to go down really, and our mistakes are not our failures. They are our lessons. some harder learned than others. cant change the ones I have made.. I can only hope that I will be able to make them right. I edited this writing 7 times over the course of 24 hours… and something in it probably still isn’t right, or doesn’t say what it should… or… is just…. rambling. Some of you may never understand… or, maybe you do all too well. I have no room to judge or say…  

“…come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever… we only have what we remember…”

… what do I do?

Do I come back?


Yuri swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away his tears, refusing to cry in front of strangers he’s never seen nor met until today.

It’s interesting how death brings people together.

He hugged the black cardigan closer, attempting to find some sort of comfort in the itchy, over sized material, before giving up and allowing it to drape off his frame like a curtain.

The fake smiles of sympathy meant nothing.

The overused ‘we’re sorry for your loss’ meant nothing.

The fact that his own mother didn’t show up to her own father’s funeral meant absolutely. Nothing.

But the fact that he’d lost the only family he’s ever known, the only person who’ has stayed throughout everything, had just left him with nothing but memories…

That meant everything.

His hands began to shake as his body filled with fear, unanswered questions flew though his mind, his breathing became uneven and his eyes glazed over.

“Yura? Yura-” He tried to answer the familiar voice calling him, but what was supposed to be a ‘yes’ turned into a choked sob that teared through his throat as if it were paper. He fell to his knees and his is face in his hands, allowing the unwanted tears to stain his cheeks.

Seconds later he feels the warmth of someone shifting on the grass beside him. He throws himself blindly into their arms (rather ungracefully at that) and cries into the crook of their neck, inhaling the scent of old leather and spice, a scent that he’d grown accustomed to in these past months.

He spluttered some words in broken Russian to his friend, who simply pulled him closer. The older man kept quiet, knowing that false promises weren’t what Yuri needed to hear.

“Beka… Beka, he’s dead and I-”

“Shhh, Yura. Shhh…” Otabek swayed the blond, moving a hand to comb through the growing strands of his hair.

Dedushka, why did you leave me. I miss you don’t go.”

A/N: Lmao I’m going to sleep now bc idk what to write anymore. Peace out

anonymous asked:

Fluffy Seven/Saeyoung cuddles imagine?

i dont know how good this is, sorry.

Had it been any other day you would’ve been on the couch cuddling with Saeyoung, however, earlier in the week he was so caught up in work that he didn’t have time to spend with you. Because of how stressed he was, he yelled at you to leave him alone and that you were being annoying, the second you left his sight he slammed his head on the desk and groaned because he knew he’d just been a bit too harsh.

So, now he was sitting on the couch begging you to come and sit with him. You held up strong as you sat on the other side of the room, facing away from him, pretending you couldn’t hear him. Perhaps you were being a little childish but Saeyoung deserved to know what it felt like to be ignored by you. 

Saeyoung did try everything to get you to break, he put Honey Buddha Chips between his lips an quacked like a duck, he cracked a few terrible puns, he even got Saeran to come out and try to convince you to talk to him. But, Saeran didn’t do much to help, if anything he encouraged you. 

Saeyoung sighed as he was quickly running out of 707-type ways to get you to smile and talk to him. Instead he went for the good old-fashioned apology, which he had yet to do. He sat down behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, forcefully pulling your back against his chest. He hid his head in the crook of your neck and mumbled words only you could hear. 

“I’m sorry MC, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Please forgive me” he mumbled, placing a light kiss on your neck. “I love you” 

You groaned, relaxing back into his arms as you turned around to face him with a pout. He’s one because he was too cute and you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. 

“I’m suppose to be mad at you” you state, you see a small grin creep to his lips as he just pulled you closer. 

“I know, I’m sorry” he said softly, you adjusted yourself so you were sitting on his lap, and you wrapped your arms around his neck before hugging his tightly. 

“Just… don’t forget about me. Okay?” Saeyoungs grip tightened at your words, he fell back so you were lying on top of him and lightly rubbed your back soothingly. 

“I would never” he promised. You two sat in comfortable silence, holding each other tightly, each a little scared to let go. Eventually you heard soft snores come from Saeyoung, you smiled and continued to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Not long after, you fell asleep as well. 

Saeran came out to get ice cream, and saw the two of you on the floor, cuddling, asleep. No one else was around, so he smiled and took a quick picture. He was glad for the family he had, and you and Saeyoung were glad to be in each other’s arms again.

The Fountain (Jumin x MC)

You were simply walking with your husband when your foot began to slip.

Word Count: 555

I’ve had a very interesting day! I got my hair cut and I’m so happy to have it short once again, and I as well attended a banquet! I had a lovely day and I hope you have as well! Thank you and enjoy <3


You walked beside your husband, Jumin, the two of you chatting away as you approached a fountain, the water cascading from the top level gracefully to the bottom.

You had smiled at the sight of it, especially as you overlooked it, mist drifting against your face. 

Jumin gave your hand a small squeeze as you seemingly beamed.

However, it quickly changed as your foot slipped against the cobblestone road, accidentally dragging Jumin as you both fell forward, into the water. 

 He attempted to shield your crash pulling you close to him as he attempted to twist his body.

Yet that ultimately didn’t change the end result.

You landed in the fountain, your clothes soaked only worse as water dribbled onto you and Jumin.

You looked up, crinkling your nose at the droplets tickled your expression.

Jumin though, appeared much different. 

He had been plunged almost entirely, lifting his upper body from the pool as he sat up, sputtering up small coughs.

“Are…Are you okay darling?” He cleared his throat, looking up.

You stifled your giggling, reaching out and moving away his damp strands clinging at his face, curling it behind his ear. “I’m fine- are you?”

He melted at your touch, nodding softly. “Yes, I think I’ll live.” He chuckled lightly. “But I have to say, this is a first.” 

You laughed weakly, pressing a kiss to his head. “Well, if it’s any consolation I think you look cute.” 

His cheeks became sprinkled with pink, grinning. “And as always you look wonderful.” 

If your words left him flustered, his left you an utter mess, splashing him with water. 

“Did you…” His words drifted off, the gears in his head turning. 

And before you could even respond he splashed you back, his lips stretching as water trickled down your face. 

“Oh, I see how it is.” You sniggered, returning the gesture, scooting away as he huffed the two of you continuing back and forth in a game. 

You erupted into laughter, refusing to give up onto he rose to his feet, scooping you up in his arms, holding you close. 

You kicked playfully, clamping onto his suit, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I suppose this means I win?” He asked, resting the tip of his forehead to yours. 

“No way! This is cheating!” 

“Well, I couldn’t help it.” 


“You were simply so adorable, love.” He cooed. “You have a habit of being utterly marvelous if you didn’t know.” 

If his words left him flustered, you became an utter mess,

 You could hardly come up with a response, incoherent squeaks escaping you as your buried your head in the crook of his neck, Jumin’s soft laughter only leaving you worsening.  

And despite the cold painting every inch of you, a warmth entwined the two of you.

And as long as you were with each other, that warmth only grew. 

As did the happiness.

thegaypumpingthroughyourveins  asked:

Percival and Newt meeting each other at a magical sex toy shop... 💕

I almost spit out my tea when I read this, but seriously though. What the fuck did both of them do in a sex shop to begin with? Right, if we’re looking for reasons why Newt would need to visit such a place, then this would be one.

Newt Scamander, basically had no social life. He was really bad at interacting with his kind - humans - but his body had needs, and he was not perverted enough to involve other kind - who the fuck was in their right mind and doing this - and his right hand plus fingers did not satisfy him anymore. He wanted to try something new - new sensations as one would say.

He found himself in a sex shop two days later, after the drunk revelations involving Goldstein sisters and two bottles of wine. Queenie, being the bolder and maybe more experienced, told him where to look for the sensations he so deeply craved.

Newt never felt more uncomfortable as he did at the very moment, in front of a showcase which displayed a very big variety of toys, for various usage. The shop itself wasn’t that big, but the stock was quite impressive.

So, Newt stood there, eyes roaming and brain processing how exactly some toys would be used and the whole picture his imagination brought made his face burn with shame.

All of this, he thought shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, isn’t my thing. He turned around, ready to leave, to run away, because he wasn’t brave enough to even try, but stopped when he almost bumped into someone.

It was a man, if the tag with name Percival on his t-shirt told about something.

“Oh, sir, “ the voice, low and deep and smooth like fucking silk made Newt snap his head up and he groaned internally, because why the fuck the expression of ‘sex on two legs’ had to be taken so literally and in such a place to begin with? “I thought you need help.“

Yeah, he needs help. He needs help to knock you out and drag in his bed, to tie you up and fuck himself on your dick until he’s too fucked to even think.

Percival snapped his fingers in front of him and Newt realized he zoned out for a moment there. He ducked his head, hiding his eyes.

“I. Um, no. I thought about leaving-” Newt stuttered. It was pretty embarrassing, okay? His face burned hot and he made a move to get past the man, to get out of this place. He shouldn’t have listened to Queenie after all.

“Are you feeling okay?“ Percival’s voice sounded genuinely worried. Now, Newt didn’t intend to make anyone worry about him.

There’s nothing to worry about, Percival - the walking sin - maybe except for Newt wanting to bang you using at least half of the toys put there, on display.

The thoughts set Newt’s cheeks aflame and he really thought for a moment that actually passing out now would be a gift, because holy fuck, Scamander, what kind of vulgarities go through your mind, get a hold of yourself and think with your brain, instead of dick.

“Mhm, yes.“ Newt mumbled looking at Percival’s shoulder instead of meeting man’s eyes “I’m fine.“

“Okay,“ Percival exhaled “good.“ He stepped aside, letting Newt slip past him.

However, he called after and his words knocked the air out of Newt’s lungs.

“See you next time, sir. I hope you will feel less uncomfortable then.“

Newt couldn’t believe his ears. Just how much the man observed him to deduce that?

He managed to offer the shop worker a small, crooked smile and a short wave.

Newt eventually came back to the sex shop, but now, with an entirely different purpose.

Heat (M)

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

A/N: There’s not enough sub!Jimin in this world so here’s something to add to that collection. This fucked me up big time. It’s pretty much PWP.

Words: 1,780.

Warnings: Sub!Jimin, Blowjobs, PWP, Minor swearing, Park Jimin in general tbh.

Keep reading

An Ode to Hunter S. Thompson.

I know he was an asshole.
And a crook.
And a druggie.

A bad father.
A suicidal man.
He ended his own life.
The way he wanted to to.

But that’s the thing I suppose.
Thompson did what he wanted to.
What most are afraid to ever do.

And when he spoke his words meant something to me.
He wasn’t cocky,
He wasn’t prideful.

He saw the truth.
And displayed it the best he could.
He lived the truth.

He lived.
He once said. “There’s no drug like writing.”
And so I started writing.

He was a good one.
Even though he wasn’t.

And thats the realest thing a person can be.


yo this is for @zeldaofhyrule bc its her bday tomorrow!! and it was supposed to be fluff but i am absolute shit at plain fluff so it turned kinda sad at the end so !! sorry wh o o p s

so heres some hylink for yall hope u enjoy

She’s never taken such an interest in a mortal before.

Of course; she loves all of her mortal subjects. They are her children and she loves and protects them all equally, for that is her duty. She prides herself as being a Goddess who lives for the people, unlike her older sisters.

She has never experienced this sort of… favoritism, she supposes is a good word, before.

It’s a strange feeling.

She likes it.

Keep reading

The Orange Ocelot

Characters: Jasper, Amethyst, and Steven (with minor appearances by Peridot, Garnet, Pearl, and Lapis)

Word Count: 9700

Summary: Since the show is dragging its feet in bringing back Jasper, here’s some self-indulgent fanfic where Amethyst and Steven introduce her to the joys of underground wrestling

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@femininechaos said:

The cuddle/meditation one, if you feel so inclined! (I feel I’m going against my ~reputation as a dealer of smut but, damn it, that prompt is so cute and I would love to read your take on it.)

Step, step, step. Stop.
Step, step, step.
Step, step, -


The pacing footsteps pause and Lexa cracks an eye open.

“Sorry.” Clarke bites her lip and turns to look out the tower window. Her hands are tangled in front of her, fingers gripping and re-gripping each other.

“Worry will not change anything that may happen.”

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I Thought You Were Different: Book 4 (Part 23/?) (Steve Rogers x reader)

Part 22

“Hey, what are you thinking about?”  

You smiled at the soothing tone of Steve’s voice and rolled over to face him, and despite being next to each other in the same bed again, it was still obvious that the two of you were maintaining a space between you.  In the last few weeks, after finally reaching an understanding with Tony, you and Steve began the work on your relationship again with a renewed purpose to move forward; with the kids back at the compound after their own journey to learn how to cope, the two of you were now taking the time away and doing the same.  

“You,” you hummed softly in reply.

Keep reading