things and faces i greatly enjoy

Scorpio - 27

**Trigger Warning: Mild violence, mentions of murder, mild angst**

I’ve always wanted Voltage to include Scorpio’s transition from human to god. I think it would be very interesting to read. But as of right now, they haven’t released any story about it. So until then, here’s my interpretation of how that all went down. :)

I hope you enjoy this fic! :P
Feedback is greatly appreciated!


      “C'mon, get up!! Get up, all of ya, now!!” A deep, rough voice yelled. A flashlight shined in the young boy’s face, rousing him from a light sleep. Sluggishly, all the boys in group began to get up. Most rubbed their eyes as they grabbed backpacks and other things. The older man growled again, “Hurry up! Don’t make me hurt ya!” He grabbed a small boy’s arm, hard, and pushed him away to make him go faster. This startled most of the children and they now hurried to gather their things.

      “Hey! 27! Hurry it up!” The boy called ‘27’ was about 8 or 9 years old, with jet black hair and colorless eyes. Despite his superior’s barking, he continued moving at his own pace. He grabbed a dark green pack, slung it over his shoulder, and moved out with the rest of the boys.

      They had been staying in a dark warehouse, with several blankets sprawled on the concrete floor to act as beds and covers. Several more adult men came in to hurry the packing process along. They stuffed all the blankets into large packs of their own and carried them off. Once everyone was out, the group began to march down the hill.

      The sun had not yet risen. The sky was a rather lovely shade of midnight blue. It was barely light enough for the boys to see where they were stepping. The sound of grass getting crushed under their feet was the only noise to be heard. The black-haired boy just glowered at the ground. His face was completely blank, but his mind was busy, preparing himself for the activities to come - gunshots, yelling, knife-throwing, lifeless bodies hitting the battlefield. Oh how he hated taking part in it. But he had to, just to keep himself alive.

      After almost an hour of walking, the group found their new campsite. A man gruffly called out.

      “Get out your weapons and set them up!”

      The young boys did as they were told. '27’ begrudgingly pulled a machine gun out of his pack, then set it on a stand. He sighed, then looked up at the sky, which now was a mixture of light blue and yellow due to the sunrise. His eyes found the last remaining stars and hoped with all his might:

      'I want to get out of here soon.’

                                          *~*~* 10 years later *~*~*

      “Hey 27, aren’t ya gonna eat?” A man asked. He sat on a wooden stool, with two other men, who all looked around the same age. They sat around a wooden table, stuffing their mouths gustily with the food placed on a giant plate before them.

      By the window sat a young man, looking out at the sun dipping below the landscape, his elbow propped up on the sill. “No." Was his simple reply.

      "Ya sure? Leader says we might not see food again until tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”

      “I’m fine.” He insisted, not taking his eyes off the darkening sky.

      “Alright. Suit yourself.” The burly man shrugged and went back to shoveling in food.

      27 continued to stare at the blazing sun, not paying the slightest bit of concern to what harm it could cause to his eyes. In fact, he hoped it would harm them. 'Make me go blind’, he mentally ordered. A blind soldier wouldn’t be of any help and maybe he would finally be freed from this cruelty. Or perhaps, after the things he’d witnessed, they would just kill him. Either way, he didn’t care. Even if it meant trading life for the gates of Hell, any escape from this merciless group would be worth it. 'Even death would be a blessing’, he thought.

      The burning rock eventually disappeared, giving way to nightfall. The stars now twinkled above. This man had long since lost hope of freedom. A life without murders and fighting and misery, he had put behind him. And yet, even so, tonight, he found himself looking up at the stars dotting the inky blue sky.

      'Please, save me from this life.’ He silently prayed. Then, he laid down upon his blanket, a thin shield from the hard floor, and fell into a dreamless sleep.


      A dazzlingly bright light shined all around him, he could see it even from behind his eyelids. His eyebrows furrowed as he opened his eyes, urging them to adjust. When his vision finally cleared, 27 took in his surroundings.

      The room was large and full of grandeur. A large throne sat regally against the wall. The tall double-doors, appearing to be of an expensive wood. He had never before been exposed to such beauty. The man then seemed to grasp ahold of reality and jumped, startled, to his feet.

      'Was I kidnapped in my sleep?’ He thought.

      “No, child of man, you were not taken.” Came a powerful-sounding voice. 27 whipped around to see a man who exceeded the earthly definitions of grace, might, and intimidation. He wore a robe of the highest quality, his hair was long, a crown rested perfectly on his head. His eyes were gentle, yet still gave off the impression that this man was not to be taken anything but seriously.

      Something that shook 27 even more was this being’s inexplicable ability to read his thoughts. “Who are you?” He demanded.

      “Child, I am the King of the Heavens. I have heard your prayers for rescue, and have decided to grant your wish.” The 'King’ smiled.

      He had no idea what to think. Was this real? Was he being toyed with? How did he end up here? The questions raced rapidly inside his mind. Then, something stuck out to him. This person, this so-called king, had spoken of his private wishes to be freed from his life in the mercenary group. Those prayers had never been said aloud. He had never told anyone about them. How could this man know? It didn’t make sense. 27 didn’t want to believe the words coming out of this man; who’s to say he wasn’t some psycho? However, no logical explanation came for how he knew of things that nobody should.

      “What are you talking about?” He questioned.

      “You were sold into a mercenary group when you were a infant, correct?” 27 nodded. “And you’ve always despised it. So you prayed to the gods to be saved from that horrible life. Are these things also correct?” The raven-haired man hesitantly nodded again. “Well, my dear child, I’ve decided to grant your wish.”

      “….How?” He asked with skepticism.

      “I will give you the gift of godhood. You will be allowed to live here in the heavens. In exchange, you will work in one of our departments. Is that acceptable?”

      “….Yeah..sure.” 27 was not a naïve man; he wasn’t ready to trust this stranger yet. However, he was curious to see where this was going. So he agreed, all the while preparing himself to fight back if necessary.

      “Wonderful,” The king smiled pleasantly, “It is my understanding that you do not have a name, therefore I will give you one. You shall be called Scorpio.”

      “Scorpio.” He tested out the name, seeing how it felt coming out of his mouth. A strange name, he thought, but still better than a number. “Alright.”

      “You are assigned to the Department of Punishments. You are to punish humans who have committed wrongful deeds.”

      Scorpio felt a smirk creep onto his face. Punishing humans? The despicable race that forced him into a life of heinous murder? That didn’t sound too bad. “I can do that.” He agreed, smiling rather darkly.

      The king didn’t seem to mind the sinister thoughts making a home out of Scorpio’s mind, and retained a look of peace and satisfaction. “Very well, then. If you agree to these terms,” He lifted a hand, “May your wish be granted.” He pointed his palm at Scorpio, causing light to engulf the black-haired human. His body glowed with an ethereal light for a moment before fading. Scorpio was transformed - his simple clothes were gone, swapped for the Department of Punishments’ uniform. He felt power coursing through his veins, washing away any and all fatigue. He looked down at his hands as he flexed and relaxed them, trying to get used to the feeling.

      “You’ll soon get accustomed to it.” The king said.

      And with that, Scorpio’s life as a god began.


Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I may write another fic with things such as Scorpio adjusting to his job in the DOP, meeting the other zodiac gods and stuff like that, but idk. Maybe if I have spare time, I’ll write it :)

vvitchez  asked:

Hi! I have been attwmpting to reach out to Freyja to devote myself to her. I have made charm bags full of catnip, elder flowers, sunstone, rose quartz, and citrine in a golden bag, talked to her about perhaps accepting me as her devotee, but I have received no signs that she reciprocated my desire. Any advice for me on how to be in her good graces?

Hey, I’m happy to give whatever advice I can!

There is a lot I am probably going to say about this.

First off, Freyja is a very approachable, extroverted deity. She deeply cares about people and is willing to talk to essentially anyone. I think that Freyja is one of the kindest goddesses you could ever find. She more than deserves her status as Lady of the gods. I think you should be able to build a close connection to her, but more on that later.

It’s important to understand the full scope of Freyja’s attributions. Modern day humans have done a lot to declaw and simplify her in popular representations. Some of the most famous myths with Freyja in them portray her as a passive figure to be coveted for her beauty – what with various figures repeatedly asking for her hand in marriage as a ransom or wager – and though it’s true she’s a goddess of beauty, she is also a goddess of sexuality, material wealth, magic, war, and death. That’s a lot of stuff! (And not even a complete list.)

Historical evidence shows us that she is a goddess of familial wealth, as well as of commerce. She is associated with fine things, riches, and aesthetic beauty. This is so much the case that there are even stories about male rulers in pre-Christian Scandinavia incorporating her name into theirs, in order to show devotion to her. For those who devote themselves to her, she will preside over birth, love, marriage, family, and death. She is present from the beginning to the end. She is called upon by lovers seeking to weave words into poems, and those seeking to weave words into magic. In the myths, people want to sleep with her because it is literally a divine experience. As a goddess of war, she picks people from half of all slain in battle to live in her hall, and in accordance with that, people die and kill for her. She even taught Odin much of the insane magic for which he’s famous.

Now here is my personal experience with her, and devoting myself to her. This is part bullet point list, part story. Hopefully some of the information will be useful:

  • I was able to get a preliminary connection with her almost immediately, but in order to advance further than that, I had to abandon all hesitation and fully throw myself into the idea of worshiping her. I believe that having confidence in your desire to build a relationship with Freyja is key to making it happen.  
  • My altar is built half around aesthetics and half around objects of personal significance. Freyja, being a goddess of material and aesthetic beauty, will appreciate an altar that you put a lot of work into making look pretty. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it has to have expensive things, though. My altar is pretty… minimal due to my small budget, but it works well enough. I have a honey and tobacco leaf candle (two scents I heavily associate with her), some other candles, a stuffed toy cat, and I keep my Freyja necklace  there while I’m not wearing it.
  • Actually, speaking of that necklace, it has been one of my favorite objects since I bought it, and it’s been the most important in my worship. Here is a link to the necklace, and you can also find pictures of me wearing it in my “my face” tag. I believe having iconography you love is very important.
  • I have three common offerings: food, alcohol, and blood
    • I’ve found that Freyja enjoys rich foods and foods that you offer because you greatly value them. I’ve given her chocolate cake, homemade rump roast steak, homemade scones, my favorite pizza, and things like that. I usually offer her the food at her altar, meditate for a moment to tell her it is there, and then leave for a while. I come back between 30 minutes and an hour later to sit down, eat the food myself and talk to her.
    • I don’t know if there is an alcohol that Freyja explicitly dislikes, but again, she seems to have the deepest appreciation for fine things. I’ve gotten drunk with her a few times. It’s always helped significantly with communication and meditation.
    • Blood is a very effective and important offering. Freyja is a goddess of war and magic, violent and powerful. If I need assistance, protection, or courage, I spill my blood for her. For example, last night I went into the woods for magical purposes. I felt like I would need protection, and after all, the forest is a very magical place. I knew Freyja could and would help, so I removed my pendant, heated it some above a candle while calling to her, sliced my calf open, and covered the pendant in my blood before tying it back around my neck.
  • Do normal things in her name. Freyja may be known for a specific set of things, but if you are her devotee, then she is a part of your whole life in general. I personally believe that as a devotee, when I’m out doing things in the world, I am a representative for her. Over time, this consistent devotion has done a lot to build my relationship with her. (Important: if you decide this is how you want to devote yourself, do not be weird about it. Like don’t be that one creepy religious person who brings up their faith in inappropriate situations. Just don’t.)
  • Lastly: have fun! Ultimately, Freyja is a goddess who cares a lot about rewarding and helping her followers. She is a just, kind Lady and commands accordingly. Your relationship with her is going to be unique because it is a very personal thing. Take your time and find what works best between you two! If you are worshiping Freyja primarily as a goddess of beauty and love, then plan your offerings and iconography around that; if you are worshiping her primarily as a goddess of magic, tailor your practice around that; etc. etc. You get the idea.

Any other questions? I wish you luck in finding her soon

Feel free to talk to me about about her any time. This goes for everybody!

The Day After Tomorrow

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki (brief), Reader (Y/N Y/L/N)

Pairings: Jensen x Reader (sort of)

Word Count: 1,095

Warnings: One curse word (used twice)

Author’s Note: Heyyy! This is my entry for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  Kari’s Danish artists spn challenge! I hope you guys like it! I got the song “The Day After Tomorrow” by Saybia!! Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

The Day After Tomorrow

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tfw your sis and your bf make fun of you :(

(Things I enjoy greatly in this fandom : Raven and Erik being BFFs, puns, Charles being bad at cooking, Charles being outraged. (Also I can’t seem to be able to draw charles looking older than 14 years old lol, you’re a highlander charles))

After The Big Game

Septiplier-[Jacksepticeye x Markiplier] About Septiplier, I know it’s not an actual thing. It’s called fanFICTION for a reason. Just enjoy the story and it’s characters

Summary: High school AU. Mark is a basketball player and Jack is his boyfriend. The two have a tickle fight after the big game. [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]


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Akko went about her daily routine working hard to get one step closer to become like Shiny Chariot when all of a sudden, a certain prodigal witch started acting differently.

Mirror Dimension AU

For those who prefer to read it on Here’s the link

Chapter 1

Akko had nearly finished her potions essay for Professor Lukic when someone stood in front of her. She didn’t pay the person any mind as she finished it with her name with a jaunty flourish.

“Hi Akko!”

The high pitched voice inside the library startled her as she was used to the fact that she’s the one always noisy and needs to be shushed. Akko looked up at the person.

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Last things of note from autos:

If I could have, I would have snapped a pic for you guys of Misha flexing on stage before jumping down to sign. He even wrapped his fingers around his thigh at one point for whatever reason?? (goddamn misha let me live!!!)

As always, Misha’s smile is divine. (I’m also happier with the experience than I was last time, because he was so tired last year by the time single tickets were called, not that I blame him >.>

It’s true what they say about Jensen giving you his full attention. Even though I wasn’t even close to the first 100 people in line, he still looked down at the photo (my cockles op from last year) while I explained it was from last year, and he gave a good laugh after he worked out what it was.

Jared also enjoyed the mishalecki op from tonight, said something like ‘demon rocker face, right?’ So he remembered <3

Good lord, Jim Beaver is quite the Chatty Cathy. Very personable, chit chatted with everyone in line. Actually read the cover of my journal soooo i guess he knows my ao3 account now??? He commented on the spelling of my name, and I said it was the Irish spelling, and he asked if I was Irish. I said yes with a bunch of things. I said I greatly approved of his pirates hat, which he smiled and tipped at me. I’m definitely happy that I made the last minute decision to buy his auto. :)

Surprise | Vernon

Originally posted by soniathearmycarat

Just some fluff, enjoy!! 🖤 Requests are open‼️

You were a mess running back and forth trying to make sure everything was set for Hansol’s birthday party. The decorations a colorful array of strings you managed to put up with the help of Mingyu and his height. Getting on his shoulders made putting the stringy decorations onto the light much easier. We even filled the ceiling with balloons which filled in the gaps of the string decorations, but this also meant extra lights which wasn’t a problem.

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its-a-goddamn-heartbreak  asked:

Silas powering through a hockey match, then scoring the winning goal (is it a goal in hockey???) and not being able to celebrate his own success bc he's so busy vomiting all over the field.

Ohhh man, can we have something where Silas isn’t feeling good and he’s trying to hold it together bc he doesn’t want to look like a wuss (maybe at a sports thing) and then when his mum picks him up he loses it in the car and cries (cos like, you said he’s a bit of a mama’s boy…)

A/N: Okay, so I’ve kind of combined these two prompts because I thought they fit so perfectly well together! This was a fic to try and ease me back into the whole thing after being so shit for a while - so I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!! 😊

The team huddled together at the side of the field, sticks held into the middle of the circle. Silas glanced around at his team mates, mud splattered and sweaty, red faces all looking in the direction of their coach and waiting for the last ream of instructions before the final twenty minutes of play.

“We’re doing really well guys,” the coach encouraged, looking around at all his players, “we just need to keep the energy and momentum up! We need to block any further attempts at goals. Tom, be as violent as you wish to stop those goals from getting in. Nick, Andy – go on the attack, you want to get that ball for us; Silas, Terry – any opportunities you get to score a goal – go for it!”

There was a chorus of “yeah” and “sure” around the circle as they each secured their grips on their sticks ready to resume play. Silas’ hand slipped on the handle and he tried to wipe away a slick layer of sweat on his shorts.

“Right boys, let’s play!” He called, and there was a scramble of movement to return to the pitch. Except from Silas, who stayed very still as his teammates moved around him. He’d been feeling a little off since he got up this morning, but forty minutes of intense running about hadn’t done anything to help how he was feeling.

“Silas?” The coach asked as Silas hadn’t moved. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” Silas answered automatically, but he really didn’t feel alright. His belly was going over and over inside him, and he knew he wasn’t reacting as quickly as he normally did. Right now he felt like he should have listened to his mum – she’d voiced concerns over him being peaky as she dropped him off, but he’d shrugged it off. He’d needed to play – this was a really important match that they had to win to progress through to the next tier of the Nationals; that was much more important than a wee bit of an upset tummy… And he’d thought it was probably just nerves anyway.

Then when he still felt uncomfortable after the first bout of play, he started to realise that the gurgly feeling was a bit more than just nerves. Thinking back to the night before, he’d tried to figure out whether he’d eaten something that could have made him feel ill, but the thought of food had him boaking into his hand and trying desperately to keep what was in his stomach down.

It was just another twenty minutes, that was all, then he’d be able to go home – and he’d get his mum to make him hot orange and he’d lie on the living room sofa. He could almost feel her gentle fingers on his forehead when the whistle interrupted his thoughts harshly and signalled the start of play.

Silas was on the other side of the pitch from the ball, and he made no attempt to try and get there to gain control. He lingered on the other side, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and to his displeasure – panicky. The queasy feeling which was emanating from his gut was making him feel on edge, drawing his attention away from the game and onto every unusual sensation that he was feeling.

On the other side of the pitch Terry had been cornered by two of the other team’s players and was looking frantically around for someone to pass the ball to. Normally Silas would have been over there in the thick of it, but now he had to force his legs into movement to try and get over there before the ball was taken out of their possession. His legs wobbled a little as he jogged across, and he had to stop halfway across the pitch as a lurch in his stomach forced a high pitched hiccup out of him. He was saved anyway by Andy, who’d come flying out of nowhere towards Terry and managed to retrieve the ball and was pelting up the length of the pitch with it. With a well aimed swipe the ball went round the goalie and right into the back of the net.
Wheeeeyyy!” A small cheer went out from Silas’ teammates, and he tried to join in but his voice was weaker than usual. His chest was feeling uncomfortably tight as he fell back towards the outside of the pitch, an unusual position for him. They were drawn now – even if they did nothing else other than defend, they’d be through to the next level; Silas took this as the opportunity to keep still, his stomach twisting inside him like a series of live snakes.

The other team had stepped up their attack, realising that if it ended now that would be them out. Silas watched Andy and Nick, as they raced down the pitch, trying desperately to get the ball from the other team, their faces were blotchy red and he could hear ragged breathing as they tried to keep up. They were lagging – suffering from match fatigue as they neared the end of the game. Silas could pre-empt what was going to happen before it did – Andy was going to be cornered on each side and whilst that happened, one of their guys would flank on the outside and retrieve the ball so Terry and Andy had no hope in getting it.

Silas knew what he had to do. He tightened his grip on his hockey stick and set off at a sprint. His legs still didn’t feel entirely stable underneath him, but he forced himself onwards, reminding himself that one more goal would make it absolutely certain for them to win.

His sudden burst of speed seemed to take the other team by surprise, especially after his sluggish performance through the rest of the match, and a few of them paused momentarily as he shot between them, determined to retrieve the ball from Andy and at least make it safe. He could feel his insides clenching up inside him as he pushed his legs to go faster, his gaze concentrating on the ball that Andy was trying to guard.

Andy had understood what Silas was trying to do now, and with a deft whack had sent the ball shooting straight across to Silas. He felt like he was running through ice water, but he pushed on – swerving around one of the other teams’ defenders and smacked the ball as hard as he could – praying that the goalie wouldn’t block it. He didn’t. The ball careered straight between the goalie’s legs and into the back of the net, and Silas drew to a stop, pleased that he’d managed to do what he’d set out to.

From behind him he heard the cheer of his teammates celebrating another goal, which definitely put them ahead with only five minutes still to go. Silas’ legs were weak, and for a moment he felt lightheaded, then he opened his mouth to join in with the cheer.

But what came out wasn’t a cheer. Instead a hot bubbling spray of liquid erupted from his mouth, sending him flying forwards where he landed hard on his hands and knees on the grass. His eyes stung, and he hadn’t quite figured out what had just happened before his stomach cramped and another gurgling wave of puke splattered out onto the grass – and he felt like he was watching it happen to another person, not himself. He tried to suck in a great gasp of air, but whenever he did, more vomit forced its way up his throat, making a light coloured puddle of sludge in the space between his hands.

“Silas!” He vaguely heard his name being called, and then hands gripped at his shoulders.

“I – brrruuuuuullllaarrrrrrrrrrggghh!” Silas tried to respond to his name, but more sick spilled from him, and reality was beginning to hit him. His mouth was sticky and tasted sour, his chest heaving uncontrollably as his stomach turned over and over, and a warm splattering of puke had landed onto his hand.

“Don’t worry lads,” Silas heard the voice of his coach, then a large hand was patting his back gently, causing another mouthful to spatter down. “Andy, grab Silas’ left arm, let’s get him off the pitch.”

Silas was aware of hands gripping both sides and hauling him up from the grass onto his feet. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his teammates who he knew would have clustered around him, and was half carried, half dragged over to the edge of the pitch.

He felt himself being lowered onto a bench, and he sunk his head forward so it was resting on his knees, clamping one hand to his upset belly and trying to resist the urge to retch again. Someone still had their hand on his back and was rubbing gentle circles near the base of his spine, but all Silas could concentrate was keeping anything that was still left inside him down. He felt wretched, doubly so that he knew he’d just hurled in front of his team and the other team. He wanted to curl up into a ball and hide for the rest of his life. He must have been shaking, because whoever it was put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and muttered.

“Don’t worry, you’re not well…”

It seemed to go on forever, his head pressed against his knees, as his stomach made occasional jerks that he felt turning into heaves and he aborted them with difficulty. Then he heard his coach’s voice again.

“Your mum’s on her way Silas,” he said calmly, and Silas felt the bench move as he sat down beside him. “She shouldn’t be too long. I’ve got some water here if you’re feeling up to it.”

Very slowly Silas opened his eyes and raised his head, his coach was watching him worriedly and holding a bottle of water in his hands. He unscrewed the cap and proffered it to Silas, who took it with a trembling hand. He took a swig and the water flooded his mouth.

“Don’t drink it too quickly, just take little sips,” he advised, and Silas obliged.

“S-sorry…” Silas mumbled, once he’d swallowed.

“Don’t even think about apologising Silas,” his coach said sternly. “You are as white as a sheet! Have you been feeling ill through the whole game?”

“A little…” Silas muttered, rubbing his hand across his stomach as it continued to do somersaults inside him.

“You should have said. You know you don’t have to play if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“I didn’t want to let anyone down – huuurrrrp!” The retch had forced up Silas’ chest so strongly that he couldn’t stop it, and he panted for a few seconds.

“Don’t be ridiculous Silas!” His coach said, almost reprimanding him. “You play 99% of all our games, you’re allowed one out!” Silas groaned as his stomach gurgled.

“Silas!” His mum’s voice called out from behind him, he turned his head a little too quickly and he clapped his hand over his mouth as another heave bubbled up. He tried to breathe in through his nose, his fingers gripping so tightly into his face that it hurt. His coach had moved from his side and his mum slid onto the bench next to him; instinctively Silas rested his head onto his mum’s shoulder. “Oh honey, are you feeling really rough?”

Mmmhmm…” Silas groaned, closing his eyes and hardly caring that his teammates would be able to see him. 

“He’s been really very sick,” his coach was telling his mum. “He hadn’t even said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s fine,” his mum assured, wrapping her arm around Silas’ shoulder and holding him steady. “I’ll take him home.”

“Rest up Silas,” Andy said quietly, and Silas hadn’t even realised that he was standing at the end of the bench; Silas gave a little nod. His mum’s suggestion of going home sounded absolutely amazing, he’d be able to rest and lie down.
“Alright Si, hold on to me,” his mum tightened his grip and moved his hand so he was holding on; she helped him to his feet and slowly led him to the car. “I’ve popped a bucket in the footwell, just in case,” she told him as she opened the car door and helped him inside.

Uuggggnnn…” Silas groaned, resting his head back and closing his eyes. His car door closed, and he felt the car move as his mum climbed in. Silas had wrapped his arms around his abdomen, still feeling crampy and exhausted.

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, running a gentle hand across his face. “Is your tummy really hurting you?”

Mmmhmm…” Silas agreed.

“Let’s get you home and see what we can do.” She started up the car, and Silas felt it move.

As they pulled out of the car pack, a well of emotions that Silas had been holding on to bubbled up and tears leaked out from his eyes.

“Oh honey, don’t cry,” his mum reached her hand over from the gearstick and squeezed his knee gently. “We’ll get you home and all snuggled up soon.”

“They all saw me mum…” Silas bemoaned; he felt like he’d been run over by a tractor but his mind was still running overtime about having just puked in the middle of the pitch.

“They won’t think a thing of it Si,” she reassured. “They’re your friends, and you’re not well - they’ll just want to know you’re feeling better.”

“My tummy really hurts,” Silas wriggled around in his seat, his hands holding protectively at his tender stomach.

“You can have some medicine as soon as we get in and that might help bubs,” Silas nodded, then rested his head back and closed his eyes again. He really wanted a hug, and hoped his mum would sit with him when they got home – he was sure he’d feel much better if she did.

“Oh!” He gasped, his eyes springing open with a sudden realisation. “My stick! I left it on the pitch!”

“It’s okay!” His mum grabbed his hand as he panicked. “I’ve got it for you – it’s alright, just relax…”

“Thanks mum…”

Home (Chapter Seven)

Title: Home (Chapter Seven)

Pairing(s): Jughead Jones x Reader, Jughead Jones x Betty Cooper (bughead), Archie Andrews x Veronica Lodge (varchie).

Warnings: Fist Fight, maybe some slight cursing, some angst. Everyone is pretty much shitty except for Veronica in this chapter tbh.

Summary: Luke confronts Jughead- it does not go well. Reader confronts Jughead- it does not go well. Betty confronts the reader- it also does not go well.

A/N: As always feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you all enjoy!

Tag List; @dempsey-mantle @sunshine51879 @day-dreaming-nightmare @emotional-wrek-hello @nafa1604 @aezthetically @theselfishllama

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Original request from a lovely anon:  Request ma friend? A Steve Rogers x Reader imagine based off of Satisfied from Hamilton. The reader meets Steve and introduces him to her sister bc the reader isn’t sure if he really likes her. The sister and Steve get married, and the reader is happy for them, but feels regret.

A/N: Oh man, negl, I teared up when I listened to the song for the first time and thinking about the request and I nearly cried writing this. It was definitely a tough one for me to write, but definitely a great request, so thank you! I hope you don’t mind, I changed the story up a little from the song to fit the character(s). I highly suggest listening to the song for the full effect.

Pairing: StevexReader

Word Count: 1665

Warnings: Angst

“A toast,” I say, rising to my feet, lifting my champagne flute. “To the groom!” I turn my body slightly to the happy couple at the end of the table. “And to the bride, my sister.”

My words are met with praise and smiles from the crowd of people in the hall. Steve and my sister smile at me from their seats. She’s clung to his arm and he’s relaxed in his current state. As I sit down I see them lean in and kiss and I feel another piece of my heart chip away.

“Is that who I think it is?” Eliza says, tugging on the sleeve of my blazer.

“Yeah, that’s Steve.” I chuckle, taking a sip of the scotch in my tumblr.

“He’s even bigger in person, and… and, uh…” She struggles to find the words.

“More handsome?” I offer.

“Yes! Handsome, that’s the word.” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up.

“Do you want to talk to him?” I ask her. Her eyes immediately light up. She is absolutely helpless.


“Yeah.” I chuckle. “He’s a really nice guy.”

“Would you actually introduce me to him?” She asks.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” I pat her on the arm and head over to talk to Steve.

“(Y/N), hey.” He says, a smile lighting up his face. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since, what, England, last year?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time! I’ve been good. Work with Nick and the new S.H.I.E.L.D. really keeps a girl busy.” I smile back at him.

“You never were satisfied.” He comments. “Especially not with having to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. after it collapsed, were you?”

“Well, I couldn’t really go to work for Stark, now could ?” I shrug.

“To be fair, he does offer pretty good benefits for his employees.”

“Maybe, but one can only take so much office work before snapping, y’know?” He chuckles softly in response. “How’s work with the Avengers? Avenge anything good recently?”

“Eh, it’s the same ole work I’ve been doing since Sokovia. After the whole flying city thing we’ve been tasked with taking out the remaining factions of Hydra. Simple. Safe. Easy missions, y’know?”

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anonymous asked:

Request: A smutty as hell camren with Dom Lauren and sub camila.


Band: Fifth Harmony
Ship: Camren
Warning: Smut.

A/N: You said kinky and this is the best thing I could come up with, without it being too hardcore. With any luck there might be a really hardcore kinky one in the future. Enjoy~! (Feedback is greatly appreciated!)


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Morning Giggles

Septiplier-[Jacksepticeye x Markiplier] About Septiplier, I know it’s not an actual thing. It’s called fanFICTION for a reason. Just enjoy the story and it’s characters


I love feedback! Critique is greatly appreciated! I can’t name help. COLLAB WITH @rhinklove THEY’RE AMAZING IT WAS REALLY FUN WRITING WITH THEM!

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Teen Titans - RobStar

Robin liked looking at her hands in his. He liked the sight of her bright, almost bioluminescent skin contrasting against his pale fingertips. It was beautiful, like art - an exploration in technicolor. He curled his fingertips under her chin and pulled her lips up to meet his own, tasking the sweet flavor of her lip gloss clinging to her mouth. Mint.

“You have been lost deeply in thought these last few minutes, Robin.” She rested her chin on his chest and looked up into his eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. “And what had entrapped your thoughts for so long?”

He shrugged, the movement sending her hair curling over his chest and down his side. He smiled and ran his fingertips down the curve of her spine and back up again. “Just thinking about you… and us…”

She smiled at that thought and buried her face in his chest, a small, melodic chuckle clinging to her lips as she did so. Her fingers ran down his sides before picking her body up, sliding over the expanse of his bare skin. “I am also thinking greatly about us…” She straddled his hips and cupped his cheeks, her mouth hovering above his own.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. “What about us?”

“The many things you do with your mouth.” She nibbled on his lower lip, before pulling back. “And how much I would enjoy those feelings again.”

Robin laughed and threaded his fingers in her hair, pulling her back down to his mouth. He let himself indulge in the amazing feeling of her mouth against his own before pulling away, looking into her eyes. “I’m more than happy to keep making you have those feelings.”

She just grinned at him and pulled her body against his again, her beautiful fingers finding their way into his black hair.

A study in technicolor indeed.

anonymous asked:

Boobs or Booty?


✘ ——— “Damn who let that old man turtle hermit into my askbox? ” Raditz is a simple man. He greatly enjoyed a females body, as long as it was smooth skin and not some scaly, slimy or a fur ball. He wasn’t comfortable being with a lady with more hair than him. It was was more of an ego thing that anything. Now he had to stop and think about all the times his eyes laid on woman’s body and where did they lead to the most first. 

“ Well I guess breasts because its the first thing I see when facing them. I mean I don’t go around looking at boobs like some perverted hermit. I don’t really think about ass much… actually that’s a lie. I do. Well I honestly am stuck on both as long as she knows what to do with what she has. Can she tie me up tho? 

If It’s Forever, why does it hurt...

Originally posted by loveviral

Warnings: none

Summary: Pietro reveals why he pushed the reader away and how he truly feels about her.

A/n: This isn’t part 3 but it ties into my series If It’s forever… I just wanted to do a short drabble based on how Pietro sees things. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated, thanks!

You’re all he ever wanted. He longed to breathe your air–to be near you always. He loved your laugh, your smile, the way your sleeping face was always inches from his when he woke. He would never forget the way your lips tasted whenever you’d kiss. Or the way your hands felt on his cheek. That smile–god that smile could convince him of anything. Your laugh could fill an entire room. It was like music to his ears, the calm after the storm. He would do anything for you, give anything for you. Anything to see that light, just once more. To hold you close, to tell you those three words he was never able to say. But now you were gone. 

Not physically, but emotionally. The Y/n he knew was no longer there. And all because of his incapability to commit. He got scared. He was afraid of the things you made him feel so he did the only thing he knew how to. He pushed you away before you could do the same to him, and he had never felt more broken than he did now. He couldn’t look at you without a stabbing feeling in his chest. When he saw your face he was only reminded of the smile that used to be there. He hadn’t slept in days. His bed felt so empty without you in it. Most nights he would find himself wandering the tower, looking for distractions to avoid being alone with his thoughts. When sleep did find him, it was accompanied by dreams of you. They started off as memories that he would relive at night; your first kiss, the first time you slept together. But then they transpired into something much darker, and when he woke up it didn’t end.

He was forced to see the pain in your eyes and remember that he was the one who extinguished the light. If there was something to say that could fix everything, he would say it. But right now the only thing left to do was wait. To wait and hope that one day your sleeping figure would be nestled in close to his, right where he wanted it to be.

A Drunk Mark Is A Tickly Mark

Thanks @fudgemexd for the idea! You’re the best fam!

Septiplier-[Jacksepticeye x Markiplier] About Septiplier, I know it’s not an actual thing. It’s called fanFICTION for a reason. Just enjoy the story and it’s characters!

Summary: Mark gets tickly when he’s drunk. [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]

I love feedback! Critique is greatly appreciated! Super short and shit but I think it’s still good!

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anonymous asked:

You are so creative! I have a hard time coming up with ideas, any tips to get my creative juices flowing?

So there are tons of articles about this this very subject that are far more concise and official than I am but in this post I’ll just explain where I normally get my ideas.

Read/Watch: Reading books and Watching TV, or Movies totally gets the juices flowing. For me a lot of TV or Books will touch on a relationship dynamic, premise, character trait, I like but totally execute it badly or won’t evolve it enough to my liking or I just like it and want to see more of it. So I take an mental note If you want you can take real notes with either a notebook or your smart phone (Evernote ftw)

Also reading Non Fiction can help (not as fun unless you really love the subject) I’m currently reading a book about the friendship of FDR and Churchill which has spawned my Churchill shipping comics.

Listen: Music is a big inspiration for me. I like all kinds of music (well almost…How is New Age classified as music?) Originally my Cardverse AU just came from listing to Swan’s Lake Scene (The iconic song we all know) where I like the idea of big evil king being the brass and a delicate wizard being the winds who defeats the brass. This would later lead me to think up the whole idea about Ace’s being corrupted and being turned into Jokers and this picture is a scene that I get at the end of that song. I’ve talked about how listening to Country music by Lyle Lovett made me think of having 2p American and 2p Canada as priests. In my Uniform AU I made Amelia love violent gangster rap because one morning when I was coming home from work my car refuse to play any station that wasn’t blasting blasting Ludacis.

The beauty of music you can listen to and let your mind just drift and you can take the feeling of the music as feeling you want your character feel or maybe a piece of lyrics is a great struggle you want your character to be faced with.

Walk: So for me when I walk often role play in my head I watch the scenes, or I play the dialogue  (also mouth the dialogue which I enjoy greatly making my fellow walkers think I’m crazy) It allows me to see if every thing flows well. It’s also a time I listen to music. I think the fact that walking an activity yet require very little of our attention that I kinda blocks out the unnecessary thoughts that creep up on us when where at work or at home staring at a screen or a page. Also houses and workplace are mad distracting so it really helps your focus.

Socialize: A lot of my jokes come from just messing around with friends and I also like to bounce ideas that I thought on my own off them to see the reaction I receive is the one I want the reader to feel. I also think of 3 versions of story line and need help picking one to do and their great for helping me choose.

Turn Stereotypes And Tropes On Their Heads: if you like and idea that’s been done millions of time you can make it fresh buy just spinning it on it’s head. If that character type sex is normally a guy make it gal or even make them transgender individual or non gender and vice versa. Or if that character is normally white just pick another other color. Maybe that charter type is normally super cute and you and make them super ugly. Or maybe flip social norms like have a nerd that’s really popular. Or instead of a greedy businessmen man you make them a compulsive donater. If two leads normally get together (like in those cop shows) just make them not date.

Ask Your Self Questions: Ideas come super easy when you just ask your self questions. Using the example of the leads that don’t date from above: Why don’t they date? Did they and it was disastrous, maybe one of them is not straight , and the other is. Maybe there’s some trauma that cause one of them to have. trust issues. Maybe they’ve know each other since they where little and their more like family.

Also A lot of my bridging ideas come from the process of asking questions. Why and How does your isolated new idea work in your field of already established ideas I talk about this in a little more depth in this post.

Have Fun: Ideas do not have to be ground breaking or super complex (None of my are) so don’t even waste time trying to be original. It’s overrated. You just got to like the idea and if others don’t like your ideas than it ’s their loss.

Genghis Khan ll Jai/OC

Possible prompt, don’t feel you -have- to write this. Jai, as a best friend, tells in an interview he doesn’t know why you/female friend can’t get a date. She is awesome. Then he realizes he scares potential bfs away. He doesn’t want to share 😍😎😊

Here you go lovely, sorry it took me so long, things have only just calmed down again, I hope you enjoy, as usual feedback is greatly appreciated, title inspired by this great song.

“So, who was that girl with you at last nights premier? Does our favorite Aussie finally have a girl friend?” The shit eating smile that spread over Jai’s face at this question made you shake your head. You knew Jai loved this image he had built of himself, as the misbehaving bachelor. You didn’t even want to think about what this question would do to his already over-sized ego.
“Nah man, she’s just a friend?”

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