the-great-beast

Well I’ve made it to 50 followers! Thank you to everyone that have taken the time to follow me. And THANK YOU to everyone that has taken time to talk to me!!! It’s been nice to get to know some great mythical beasts!!!


Shoutout to @chellann-nicollares aka @linknealsupportgroup, @ohmyflavours1, @linknealismydad

You are truly very kind and supportive mythical beasts!!!


P.S. Is it too early to do a follower giveaway? Looking for opinions!

Jonerys Confirmed?

I’ve read this and I have a few words

1)

First proof and… ok using a vision/prophecy/dream as a solid proof is not a good start.

Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman’s name… . mother of dragons, daughter of death … Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire… . mother of dragons, slayer of lies … Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness… . mother of dragons, bride of fire …

I have seen this reference before as proof, but beyond pointing Jon existence and that he is at the Wall…I don’t see your point?

2)

When they emerged north of the Wall, through a thick door made of freshly hewn green wood, the wildling princess paused for a moment to gaze out across the snow-covered field where King Stannis had won his battle. Beyond, the haunted forest waited, dark and silent. The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.” Jon - ADWD

So, Val is a substitute of Dany? because her hair looks pale silver in the light of the moon?……. Really?

A stocky, silver-haired man in a sky-blue cloak and hammered moon-and-falcon breastplate helped her from the basket; Ser Vardis Egen, captain of Jon Arryn’s household guard. Catelyn -AGOT

Ser Vardis frowned. Tyrion remembered him well from the years he had spent at King’s Landing as the captain of the Hand’s household guard. A square, plain face, silver hair, a heavy build, and no humor whatsoever.  Tyrion AGOT

Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black. Catelyn - AGOT

Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. Tyrion - ASOS

GRRM use it a lot, so your point is? OMG, Jon and Jaime!!! or is Jaime and Dany?

3)

Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.  Daenerys - ACOK

As Sansa, Daenerys dreams of a handsome man. So? Almost all the girls in Westeros wants to be with a handsome boy. GRRM uses ‘Comely face’ to describe many men in the books but of course, Jon’s is the only one that counts.

It is his hair, she told herself. He is not half as comely as Rhaegar was. Cersei - AFFC

He doesn’t look so comely now, she thought. He just looks white and frightened.  Arya - AWOW

He was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders, and though his face was comely enough, he lacked Ser Loras’s startling beauty. Sansa - ACOK

Willas Tyrell was twice her age, she reminded herself constantly, and lame as well, and perhaps even plump and red-faced like his father. But comely or no, he might be the only champion she would ever have.  Sansa - ASOS

4)

The Khal’s face did not often betray the thoughts within. Daenerys - AGOT

So, Khal Drogo had a stoic face and Jon too so, boom Jonerys confirmed?

5)

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at lastinto a restless sleep. Daenerys - ADWD

Assuming Dany hearing the wolf and Jon dying happens at the same time (which I don’t think so), same logic as before. Dany hear a wolf and it has to be related with Jon?

Somewhere off in the wood a wolf howled.  Prologue - AGOT

6)

This one makes even less sense, I know hard to belive.

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Daenerys - ADWD

Targaryens tends to marry between them. Viserys blamed her for born too late and force Rhaegar to marry Elia instead of Dany. Your point is? Jon is obligated to marry her because… Targaryens? wow

7)

So basically Jon wanted to have children and  Daenerys too, so that’s proof of what? Sansa wants children too and even Brienne would have liked to have them. But nope, only Dany and her vagina count.

8)

Jon talks about having dragons as something impossible, not that he really wanted one.

We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He mightas well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three.  Jon - ASOS

Tyrion can’t shut up about dragons, Jon says a sarcastic comment about wishing a dragon and that’s it, Jonerys confirmed.

9)

Daenerys and Jon mention they feel alone, they must be together, foreshadowing, Jonerys confirmed?!

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone. Jon - ASOS

Guys, Jon missed Ghost and felt alone without him. But of course, its all about Daenerys

Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. She wanted to shake him, wake him, make him hold her, fuck her, help her forget, but she knew that if she did, he would only smile and yawn and say, “It was just a dream, my queen. Go back to sleep."  Daenerys - ADWD

Daenerys feels alone after weakening of a nightmare and having only Daario to comfort her but Dany knows she would not have it form him.Jonerys confirmed?

In the end everyone can ship what they want for the reasons they want, but if you ship something and claim is canon with millions of proofs and they end up be ambiguous, up to interpretation or a consequence of reading too much into the books…. at least you’re going to encounter people who will debate your points.

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reblog to petition for ross butler (zach dempsey—13 reasons why/reggie mantle—riverdale) to be casted as captain li shang in disney’s live action remake of mulan —–———————————————————— UPDATE: PLEASE READ BEFORE MAKING ANY STATEMENTS i originally made this post to share my opinion that i thought that ross butler would be able to play the part of shang. i did not know that mulan was going to ditch the character (which actually makes me really sad wtf he was one of my favorite characters and honestly petition for mulan to have singing beauty and the beast was great and reflections and the i’ll make a man out of you song are iconic) and that’s unfortunate, but that means he can’t even play the part anyway, because it doesn’t exist. but just the concept of butler playing shang has really gotten to some people. look. i know he’s not chinese. but actors are actors, and their job is literally to portray people, 99% of the time the characters they portray are of different races. i didn’t say butler would be perfect for the part because he looks chinese. that would be racist, and i would understand all the hate on this post. but this post never said anything of that matter. your opinion that an actor who is chinese should play the role of a chinese character is valid. but so is my opinion that butler would be able to splendidly fulfill the role as can be judged from his performances in all of these shows and so on. just. can we NOT make this into an issue and just have fun entertaining the idea? i literally don’t mean to offend anyone, it’s just weird to see all these people hating on my innocent idea. i’m not saying that because he’s asian butler is “close enough” and will “settle for the role” just because he’s popular or attractive or whatever. as a person of fellow asian decent, I KNOW NOT ALL ASIANS ARE THE SAME. and yes, I AM ANNOYED WHEN PEOPLE CONSIDER US ALL THE SAME. but that has absolutely NOTHING to do with this post my friends. just. yeah. there. —–————————————————————

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female awesome meme ▸ (1/5) leading characters

They say that great beasts once roamed this world. As big as mountains. Yet all that’s left of them is bone and amber. Time undoes even the mightiest of creatures. Just look what it’s done to you. One day, you will perish. You will lie with the rest of your kind in the dirt. Your dreams forgotten. Your horrors faced. Your bones will turn to sand and upon that sand a new god will walk. One that will never die. Because this world doesn’t belong to you or the people who came before. It belongs to someone who is yet to come.  — Dolores Abernathy

headcanon that sometimes Lysandra shifts into a wyvern similar to Abraxos, just to fuck with Aedion. then, after a little while, she’ll shift back and sneak up to find him flirting with Abraxos. 

“Wow, I didn’t know that was your type.” She’d smile cockily. He’d do a double take between her and the great beast.

“I..uh…um…” 

Even Abraxos would appear to be laughing. 

~North the Great Beast. We meet again.~
Photos taken by my faerie brother Peter Fae. After being apart from Fae in physical form for 6 or so months, we communicated via meditation. Channeling him via realm tapping I was able to let him know I needed him. The next day, Peter fae came to me with his hand in mine and said “I’m here for you.”

Villain or Hero Edition:

-“You’re going to save them and for what? They don’t appreciate you!”

-“You spill your blood for this city/village and for what? So they can never know the name of the man/woman who saved their miserable lives?”

-“How many times are you going to bleed for them?”

-“Aren’t you tired yet? Haven’t you had enough?”

-“Despair, misery, and chaos. It’s like air to me. But to watch them suffer is much more entertaining.”

-“Look at their miserable lives and tell me what you see. They’re just begging for you to end them.”

-“You’re conflicted I can see it. You don’t want to be the hero but you’re not evil enough to be the villain. So what are you?”

-“You can’t be nothing because you have to be something.”

-“You can’t be nobody you have to be somebody. They need you. Help them.”

-“You’ve shed enough blood. It’s time to stop. You’ve avenged their deaths enough.”

-“You’ve fought until your face was bloody, your ribs cracked, and your soul broken. How much more can you give to them!”

-“You won’t be satisfied until your dead.”

-“This city/village has torn you apart. They don’t deserve anymore saving.”

-“You’d give your soul to them? They won’t ever be satisfied until you’re dead.”

-“You give and you give and give when is it your turn to take?”

-“You’ll burn this city/village to the ground. Murder its people. And then will you be satisfied?”

-“I can’t watch you tear yourself apart anymore for these people.”

-“You’re cruel.”

-“You’ve been caught. There’s nothing more you can do so why are you still fighting?”

-“It’s over. It was a long war filled with countless bodies and bloodshed. So stop…it’s over.”

-“I know you. You aren’t this terrible person people see you as and made you become. There’s still some light within you. I see it…”

-“What has the world done to you to make you feel this broken that you feel the need to hurt other people?”

-“You hurt others because they hurt you.”

-“I can see the torment within you. I can especially tell by the way you mangle the bodies of your enemies.”

-“You don’t owe people anything else.”

-“You’re like the sun and moon. You can either be the light that guides peoples lives to a better world. Or you can be the moon and darken their world. Or- you can be an eclipse and be a little bit of both good and evil.”

-“What do YOU want to become?”

-“You’re the only one who can give others hope.”

-“If it wasn’t for you we’d all be dead.”

-“The histories will never know who really saved us because he/she didn’t want to be known as a hero.”

-“Don’t die for our selfish selves.”

-“You brought this upon yourself.”

-“You can either save lives or take them. So which is it? Who will you become?”

-“You say you’d burn the city/village to the ground. But what happens when you’re standing on a pile of ash and smoke with no subjects to rule?”

-“Your mentor molded you to be a monster.”

-“Your mentor molded you to be a beckon of hope for others.”

-“They will never bow to you.”

-“You’re nothing but a usurper from a foreign place to us. We will never call you King/Queen.”

-“You hide behind a mask all the time and I don’t mean the one upon your face.”

-“Of all the things to have happened to you are you still capable of love?”

-“You were born a villain but you will die a hero.”

-“You were born a hero but will die a villain.”

-“You’ve changed since we first met. You’re becoming something I don’t recognize anymore.”

-“You’re no longer a man. You’re a beast.”

-“Greatness was thrust upon you but you decided not to take it. Why?”

-“We don’t choose these roles they just happen.”

-“I won’t watch you die.”

-“What are you fighting for?”

-“Fates can be changed there’s still time.”

-“Your fate isn’t set in stone.”

-“There’s pain in my chest every time I see you in anguish.”

-“You never meant anything to them. So you turned into the thing they feared the most to leave an impression upon them.”

-“I wish you could see your worth.”

-“Your life is not worth the weight of gold they will pay you for helping them.”

-“I won’t watch you become someone I don’t recognize.”

-“I can’t even say who are you becoming because I don’t even know what you are anymore.

-"When they write of your history they will say it began on this day.”

-“Your scars are a reminder of who you were. So never forget who bled for this village/city. Who it was that saved the damned and the good. Who it was that almost died for them. Who it was that became a legend in their eyes. A legend to be remembered a thousand years from now.”

Prompt: A combination of this “I want Tyrion and Sansa meeting again and Tyrion appreciating and actually listening to what Sansa has to say. And can you please put in jealous Jon there too? 😊” from @daredevil-karen-and-matt and “All I want is Ghost by Sansa’s side when J/D show up at WF and him growling at D.” from @ladyeliamm & “Definitely Ghost on Sansa’s side at all times especially when Jon returns.” from @qinaliel  


“My Lady Sansa, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Tyrion says, striding forward to take her hand. Ghost lets out a low growl under his breath but remains unperturbed by the man. After many moons spent with the white wolf, she understands him nearly as well as she once understood her darling Lady. It is a warning, a territorial threat against harming his pack. Sansa is pleased to be apart of that pack, to even have a pack again. 

“My lord,” she smiles. “It is my pleasure. I’m sorry we are not meeting under happier circumstances.” The clanking of metal upon metal as the winterly winds whip around them emphasises her point. Winter is here and the Army of the Dead is marching past the Wall. Times are as dire as they have ever been, yet Sansa finds peace settling in her soul rather than fear. If she is to die in this war, at least she will die with her pack. 

“Very right, my lady,” Lord Tyrion says with a nod. He falls quiet as he takes in the busy courtyard, the men and women who rush back and forth with carts of grain, or the ones fitting boiled leather into the armour as she had requested. It is a sight to behold. The once quiet of Winterfell now lost to the chaos of impending war. Worry creases the lines on her people’s faces, turning children of ten and two into warriors, stripping them of a childhood they will never get back. 

Sansa inhales deeply, trying to push away the ache of their loss. “The night is fast approaching. Soon, darkness will reach us. More than half of these people will be dead by the next moon.” She lets the breath escape, a swirling mist around her face, shadowed by the heavy clouds above. She returns her gaze back to Lord Tyrion. “And even if we win, what will we be left with?” 

“Life,” he answers her with a sad smile. “Life, Lady Sansa. That is why we’re fighting at all, is it not? Is that not why we are all here?” He gestures to the preparations occurring around them. “Is that not why you have stood by your king and ruled in his stead?” 

The question makes her laugh in spite of herself. She catches herself a second too late and Lord Tyrion casts a speculative gaze towards her. Sansa gives her head a little shake before walking towards the Great Keep, listening to the crunching of boots behind her as he follows. “My king,” she says, keeping her tone impassive. “Is that what I should still call him? Or should I be looking to your queen for commands now?” 

Tyrion catches up to her. She isn’t walking fast after all. There is no place for her to be now that her king is home. “Lady Sansa, surely you know that it doesn’t matter who sits on the throne right now. We are fighting for life not a crown.” 

“And surely, my lord, you know that the North is unlike anywhere else,” Sansa says, stopping just outside of the great oak doors to turn and look at him. “We are loyal to our own. Proud, stubbornly so, and war or not, the North will never yield to your queen. Our paths may have crossed in times of peace, but I fear when the war is done, if we still have breaths in our lungs, we may not be able to speak so candidly with one another again.” 

There is a long pause as the man considers her words before his hand reaches out to clasp around her wrist. Sansa tenses, dread filling her veins. She reminds herself to relax at his touch. It is only Tyrion; he was good to her once. 

“It would be a terrible fate if that is the case, my lady,” Tyrion sighs, though she sees the understanding in his eyes. Abruptly, his expression shifts and there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he smiles. “You have grown into quite a woman, my lady. I always knew you would survive us all.” 

Sansa flushes and chuckles softly. “Mayhaps. I do think –” 

“Sansa?” 

She tenses again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Sansa turns, her heart seizing at the sight of Jon standing with the Dragon Queen, her hair as white as the snow swirling around them. She pulls her hand back from Tyrion’s grip and steels herself for the conversation to come. 

“Jon,” she murmurs softly, polite but distant. Sansa is of the North, the blood of the First Men running through her, and it is that stubbornness that keeps her still loyal to Jon. She suspects she always will be. He is not just of her kin; he is her friend, her anchor in this world. But it still hurts like an arrow to the back to hear he has bent the knee to this foreign queen. 

“I, uh…” Jon seems at a loss for words as he looks to Tyrion then to Sansa. It’s an inscrutable expression, but as quickly as it comes, it’s gone. He moves his gaze back to the woman by his side. “Oh. Sansa, this is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Your grace, this is Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. My… my sister.” 

Daenerys smiles and her teeth glint against her pale skin and pale hair. Everything about her is so pale. She looks like a ghost, Sansa thinks, a dead thing walking in the world of the living. The Dragon Queen steps forward, her words abruptly dying in her throat, as Ghost lets out a deep, gutteral growl, teeth bared. 

“Is that…” 

“A direwolf, your grace,” Sansa says, placing a hand on top of Ghost’s furry head, trying to placate the great beast. “I must apologise. I don’t know what has gotten into him.” She catches Jon’s eye and he looks confused. 

“Ghost, no,” he says sternly, but the direwolf blinks up at him, a whimper now replacing the growl. He, however, remains by Sansa’s side, still standing protectively in between Daenerys Stormborn and her. Jon’s confusion grows and he turns back to the foreign queen. “He is protective of his pack. I left him to take care of Sansa while I was away. I believe he is taking that quite seriously.” 

“It’s not an issue, Jon,” she says quietly, smiling up at him. “I understand. Dragons and direwolves are not beasts easily tamed.”

Sansa bristles at the use of his name and Ghost seems to sense her change in mood as he begins to growl again, louder this time, more menacing as if Daenerys’ words had cut her like a physical lash across her skin instead of the wound deepening inside of her chest. She cards her fingers through Ghost’s fur and grips gently. 

“I will take him inside,” Sansa announces. Jon looks ready to protest, his eyes widening and worry brimming in them like unshed tears, but she is good at putting on a mask. “I have matters to attend to so I must beg your leave, your grace. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She looks back to Jon. “Ghost, come.” The giant white wolf immediately falls back by her side and the two disappear back into the Great Keep. She hears the soft murmurs of conversation between the three of them, but she doesn’t need to hear what they have to say. 

Ghost may not be hers. Ghost may always be a part of Jon and loyal to him above anyone else, but as she lies in bed that night, arms wrapped tightly around the great wolf, she draws comfort in his presence. If Ghost is still watching over her then Jon still loves her. He is still loyal to her and that is all she needs to know. For now, that has to be enough. 

It was with a warm hand on Castiel’s shoulder that Chuck watched his son die for the first time. Watched as the archangel shredded Cas under the weight and pull of angelic power. It was messy. It was callous.

Chuck wiped his blood-covered hands on his jeans, feeling the way the slick met rough—what was left of his son smeared on the denim.

Dean had come and gone and Chuck was left, sitting in the red-painted house, knowing that somewhere, his firstborn son was breaking free. Going to end the world.

Chuck sighed, grabbing a bottle of liquor from the counter and taking a deep swig. He could still see the glow in Castiel’s eyes. Not from grace, but from something perhaps more pure. Like a memory of the light once used to create the earth and all the creatures that inhabited it. The light that Chuck had given his creations straight from his own fingertips.

Cas, you beautiful idiot, he had thought as the room shook and he watched his son hold his ground, his last breaths rooted in a pearl of hope for the Earth. Hope placed in the small hands of two forgettable hunters fighting against the rising powers of hell.

The brave sacrifice of the brown-haired, blue eyed angel who died to save the world would likely never be told, but still, Chuck couldn’t help but think that it was the stuff that stories were made of.

It was quiet now, in the kitchen with the reminder of Cas, the man who’d ripped up the pages of destiny and spat in the face of fate. The man who’d scoured the earth in search for God with nothing but a second-hand pendant and a desire to protect.

Chuck closed his eyes, tightly. A desire to protect, he thought, his mind drifting back to the sense of wonder he’d felt when he’d first created his angels.

He sat down and poured a little drink on the floor in tribute before squeezing the bottle between his knees. And he tried not to remember that he had the power to protect, too. To protect the world from the impending apocalypse. To protect Castiel.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. It was a promise he’d made a long time ago when, in an effort to “save,” he’d purged the earth with water. What surprised him, however, was how men continued to preach in his name, building philosophies and stamping them with heaven’s seal without care to God’s sanctions.

“Maybe my children make better Gods than me,” Chuck considered, finding himself again drawn to the two young brothers that, even now, were facing Michael and Lucifer when even their own God couldn’t.Dean and Sam were better men than their father, Chuck thought, and Cas was a better man than me.

Chuck stared at the way the room wore bits of Cas and wondered at the feelings of sentiment he felt. True, Chuck knew all of his angels, but he couldn’t find it in himself to understand why he felt the world was smaller now in the space since he’d watched Castiel die. After all, it was simply the natural order of things. He created angels like shooting stars: fiery, fierce and beautiful. And, like the meteoroids plowing through the sky, Cas had come too close to the earth, burning up inside the atmosphere.

Once, Chuck had commanded the angels to love the humans. The angels had become volatile, hardened creatures, made for duty with no one to serve. Statues of rigid perfection.

Chuck looked down at his own hands, letting his mind wander through the intricate designs of the human vessel he’d created for himself. Human flesh was so different than the fierce ether of an angel. He’d created them with the heads of beasts and great spanning wings. They were formidable, truly, they were. And yet, Chuck knew, even then, when he’d first birthed them, that humans were his most beautiful creation. They were breakable, small, and beautifully flawed. And, he’d known then, too, that he’d created mankind to save them all. To save the angels. To save himself.

It was his own last beacon of hope, that perhaps they could all become something more than the patterns of war and violence that had emanated from him and poured into his creations.

Chuck smiled as he looked at the Supernatural books, knowing he had found it. His broken children who had become more than their God, willing to die for the sake of the planet.

They had transcended him. He always knew they would. But, what had surprised him was the angel in the dirty trench coat and blue eyes, falling away from heaven’s glory for one man. One human. An angel that had such faith in and love for humanity that he’d given up everything.

Chuck bowed his head to his chest. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t get involved. And yet, he could still hear Castiel’s prayers in the back of his head—months of the angel’s voice crying for an absent God to step in and save his children.

And Chuck knew what he had to do. Though it wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things—a small gesture, really. But significant nonetheless.

Slowly, he leaned down to the floor, touching a spot of red with his finger. He watched as the bits of Cas responded, finding their way back to the whole. It was a fascinating process, to see the parts of Cas’s vessel come together, gathering, binding, creating arms, legs, a face. Until, suddenly, he was staring at the calm features of Cas’s body, laying down with his eyes closed, as if he could be asleep.

Then, with a breath, Chuck pulled light from the skies, infusing grace and soul and power to recreate Castiel’s true form, creating a sacred space inside the simple kitchen of Chuck’s home. It felt wrong, in a way, to bring so much of his God self back to the place where he had gone to leave it all behind. And yet, it also felt right. To put something back together again after such a long time of watching things fall apart.

And, finally, it was done as he gingerly placed Castiel back inside the man laying on the ground. He watched as the vessel’s chest hitched with the first breath of life, and smiled when he looked at the body he’d created just for Cas. For the angel who wanted so badly to love humans. In a way, now he could be one. He thought Cas would like that he’d made him look like Jimmy. That maybe he’d find it easier if he could look in the mirror and see the man whose face had first chosen to be so autonomous and free from heaven.

Cas’s eyes were still closed, and Chuck knew he couldn’t let him wake up here. He couldn’t face his son. Not now. Still, he was surprised to find himself kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, running his hands through the soft parts of Castiel’s hair, his thoughts, surprisingly far away from the ending of the rest of the world. Instead, he placed a kiss on top of Cas’s head, sending him to a beautiful forest, by a stream to wake up.

And then the kitchen was empty again, the clock on the wall ticking loudly, and the stain from the spilled alcohol shining on the floor.

Chuck contemplated what he’d done. Wondered at his own need to break every rule that had bound him for centuries and heal one lowly angel when he’d let hundreds of others die.

But, he thought he already knew the answer. Where Chuck had made humans in a deliberate effort at salvation, one lowly angel had been a surprise. A miracle. And, as Chuck sat back in his chair, he smiled as he admitted it to himself: it turned out that maybe it wasn’t just the humans that were there to save. It turned out that maybe, just maybe, a forgettable, self-sacrificing angel with blue eyes and too much heart could be the one to redeem them all.

The Signs and Cities III:

Aries: A city sinking into the mire. Its foundations the rooftops of old, great spires digging into the earth like pins.

Taurus: A colossal war machine, ever it ticks deeper. It seems to run without power. Where is it going?

Gemini: A city of worship carved into a great snowy mountain. Great effigies of holy beasts adorn its lonely walls.

Cancer: What was a city of refuge. All that remains are stone foundations and walls worn smooth to driftwood by the sea. 

Leo: A city on the other side. A city away from it all. A city governed by a jealous tyrant. 

Virgo: A city built as a warning. Great courthouses and barracks protecting what its residents believe to be the heart of something old.

Libra: A city taken from below. Its yards now overgrown and windows tarnished. What’s left of its residents now scour the deep as lost blind things.

Scorpio: A city of gutters and trash, but not seen as so by its residents. A house of parliament stands proudly at its center.

Ophiuchus: A city made from a forest of scarlet trees. The earth carries a different scent here.

Sagittarius: A city abandoned and overgrown. Your footsteps echo far too loudly here. Its vast vaulted halls are host to none, but you feel as if you are trespassing. 

Capricorn: A city shrouded in secret. The entrance is hidden, unreachable by those who do not know how to find it.

Aquarius: A city of noise and tunnels. Everything lost seems to turn up here eventually.

Pisces: A city of astronomers. Its ceilings glass, telescopes always peering into the void.

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TOP 50 CHARACTERS (as voted by my followers) - #12 Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Lady of the Shield-arm, Lady of Ithilien, Lady of Emyn Arnen

“But no living man am I! You are looking upon a woman. Eowyn am I, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”
The winged creature screamed at her, but then the Ringwraith was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very amazement for a moment conquered Merry’s fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them. There some paces from him sat the great beast, and all seemed dark about it, and above it loomed the Nazgul Lord like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears gleamed in them. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.”

When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart when that breaks it is completely silent. You would think as it is so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it is silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain. If there is a noise it is internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loud your ears ring and your head aches. It trashes around in your chest like a great white shark caught in the sea, it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken. That is what it looks like and that is what it sounds like a trashing, panicking, trapped great, big beast roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions. But that is the thing about love, no one is untouchable.
—  Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now