this is a beautiful morning indeed

Threats & Paybacks (M)

Masterlist |

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Mature | Smut | sub!kook

Words: 12k of sin

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook. Art major in the University of Seoul. Passive-aggressive little shit and gamer extraordinaire. That person, with his baggy pants and ruffled, black hair, was your flatmate and, more or less, his Twitter description. Saying more or less was absolutely necessary. Amidst the kitsch aesthetics of his art twitter account, he would never say something as vulgar as passive-aggressive. Jeon Jungkook? Little shit? Jamais. He perhaps would include his Overwatch rank, or a link to his baby-blue aesthetics blog, but admit he’s annoying? Never.

Jungkook was, for everyone but you, a saint—a very, very attractive saint. 

A/N: I blame @sugajpg for this. She turned me into a monster haha BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP :‘)

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

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The Girl Made of Starlight (Part 3)

Originally posted by alittlebiteverything

The Girl Made of Starlight (Part 3)

Beast!Adam x Reader

Part 1: here    Part 2: here

You woke early the next morning. The sun had just began to peek over the horizon. You gathered your things, took inventory of the few belongings you kept with you, and then cracked open the book that had caused you so much trouble.

It told of spells, of the stars in the sky, of your mother. For you were different than the other children of the sky. Your mother, the wife of the miller, had hidden so much from the world. Her identity was one of the many secrets. The people of your humdrum village of old certainly had no clue that a celestial queen was living among them. Nor had they known how powerful her daughter was.

The day you turned seventeen, everything had changed. First it was your eyes. They paled to a breathtaking silver. Fierce, potent, striking, and intense. You hadn’t noticed any change…Until soon after, a milky white color flowed from the roots of your hair, changing it to the color of fresh snow.

It was after the change that the attackers had come. Prince Ferdinand, the heir to the throne of the sea, had his eye on you. Your hand in marriage had been promised to him from the day you had been born, only a few years after him. And though his father and your mother had both perished, he still held you to that promise.

You knew with all of your heart that you would never marry a man like him.

Ferdinand was selfish, unjust, and unkind. He would stop at nothing to see you, to make his unwanted advances. And when you turned eighteen, he discovered the book your father kept hidden. The book of the sky. He killed your father to get it. And when you found out what he had done, you took the book and ran.

And you were still running.

A long sigh escaped your lips. The clock tower chimed eight, and in instants, the town erupted into the hustling, bustling, busy everyday activity. Perfect. You would hit the market and be out of the town before Gaston could so much as lay his eyes on you. You laced up your boots, pulled on your cloak, tucked the book into your bag with your map and coins, and walked to the door.

The moment you opened it, Gaston was already standing there with a fresh bouquet of white roses, his fist raised and poised to knock on the door. Your eyes were wide with surprise.

“G-good morning, Gaston.” You greeted timidly. “I didn’t expect to see you quite so early.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye, now could I?” he grinned earnestly and handed you the bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.” You reached into your satchel for your coins. “How much do I owe you for the room?”

“Nothing. It’s my pleasure to host such a beautiful guest.” He offered you his arm, but you pretended not to notice, instead focusing your attention on the flowers in your hands. “Shall I show you around the village?”

“Sure. That’d be helpful.” You gave a little curtsy and followed him down the stairs and out of the tavern, where LeFou was waiting. As soon as you stepped into the light, you pulled your hood up over your head.

“Good morning.” He smiled knowingly.

“Good morning indeed.” The look you gave him told him everything he needed to know about the feelings you held for Gaston. Needless to say, you didn’t hold much affection for the so-called king of the woods.

“So, (Y/N), what is it you’re looking for before leaving town? Food? Supplies? Lov-”

“Bread, jam, salt, fabric, and a quill and ink.”

“Ah. All right. Simple enough.” LeFou nodded. “The baker’s cart is over this way.”

It only took about twenty minutes to find everything you needed. Your bag was a little heavier with the new supplies, but it was all stuff you needed. If you rearranged things, you were sure you would have even more room. Now, you stood at the edge of town, looking out at the nearby woods, accompanied by Gaston and LeFou.

“I could take you to your next stop on my horse. It wouldn’t take long, only a few days’ journey-”

“Thank you. For everything, but- I’m better on my own. There are people after me. I’m afraid I’ve already stayed here too long.” You offered a soft and gracious smile. Gaston was very eager to earn your affections, but you simply felt nothing for the fellow. There was something dark behind his friendly gaze. His intentions, his future, it was twisted in darkness.

You couldn’t afford any more darkness.

“Thank you for visiting Villeneuve.” LeFou’s voice was quiet, but heartfelt. You smiled, nodded, and started out down the path.


You trekked through the thick trees until you were out of sight of the village. It was then that you took a moment to sit. You set down the heavy bouquet of flowers. A wave of your hand and a small flicker of light caused the heads of the flowers to drift off of their stems. You made a smooth sweeping motion in a circle, around once and then upwards. The flowers floated in a ring, binding themselves together. You held the finished product carefully: a tiara of sorts.

You placed the roses in your snowy hair, rearranged your things, and then raised your hood to cover your face and made your way down the path once more.


Adam had watched in the mirror as you left Villeneuve. You were so close, and yet there was no way he could stumble upon his castle. It was hidden, tucked away far in the trees. And yet as you got closer and closer to him, he felt the unmistakable feeling of hope swell in his fur-covered chest.

“Master, is there anything I can help you with?” asked Mrs. Potts as she and Chip wheeled in on their cart. “You’ve been in here all day, surely you must be hungry.”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He paused, hesitating with his words. “And prepare for a guest.”

“Someone is coming to the castle?!” Chip’s excited voice rang through the West Wing.

“Possibly.” The large beast of a prince replied. Hearing it out loud made the possibility real. He didn’t think he would be able to handle the heartbreak that would come with losing the chance to meet you, even if it was only for a few days, a few moments even. He felt like he had grown up with you. You were one of the last stories his mother had ever told, so he certainly held you close to his heart, even if you didn’t know it.

Somewhere, deep in his soul, he hoped that maybe you could be the one to break the curse.  If not…he feared he might remain like this forever.

Tags:  @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @jessie-ohler @ellie0813 @ficbucket @dead-lee-15 @dragon–scales 0

Angel ‘o Mine

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

Characters- Bucky x Reader
Summary- Sometimes, Bucky just isn’t sure what to make of you.
Warnings- None.
Word Count- 775
A/N- This is part of @plaidstiel-wormstache‘s Push Yourself Challenge. I asked to write for Avengers from my main blog, @lipstickandwhiskey so I hope you enjoy my first Bucky fic!
Tags- @redlipstickandplaid, @mellifluous-melodramas, @fandommaniacx

He doesn’t know what to make of you. You’d think after months of knowing you, he’d be a little more sure of himself. He is, really. It’s just around you that his heart races and his palms sweat. You make him feel alive, and more than that, you make him feel human.

It’s still dark outside when he wakes in a cold sweat, his hands shaky and blood pounding in his ears. All he can think of is the calm that you bring to him, and the safe warmth of your arms.

Keep reading

The Morning After the Day Before; 3010 words
The long awaited follow up to His Wilted Flower 

When Isak woke up he felt like he’d been hit by a bus.  Maybe Even hadn’t pulled him out of the road and he actually had been hit by a bus and just couldn’t remember.


Isak threw an arm out tiredly and found himself groping…his bed.  His bed that was seriously lacking in the warm boyfriend department.  Even would have been considerably more fun to grope than his rumpled bed sheets.

Sitting up felt like a monumental effort when his body felt like a brick sinking through treacle, but somehow Isak managed it. He didn’t remember taking his jeans off, but when he looked around his room for signs of Even he saw them pooled on the floor at the end of the bed.

The floor near his door was a tangled mess of jumpers and over-shirts leading to the bed and Isak’s cheeks flushed at the memory of haphazardly tugging his clothes off and crumpling onto the bed under Even.

The door was ajar, but Isak definitely remembered Even kicking it closed behind them when they got in.  Maybe Even was already up?

The thought of leaving the cosiness of the bed was almost painful, but the more awake Isak became the more aware he became of the amazing smells coming from the other side of his door.  As if telling him to get his ass into gear and out of bed, his stomach began to growl demandingly.  And then it was all Isak could do to think of something other than how hungry he was.

How long had he been asleep?

He crawled down to the end of the bed and fumbled for his jeans to fish his phone out of the pocket.  A quick glance at the screen told him it was almost noon.



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anonymous asked:

Hei lovely~ I just re watched the 2jae LieV and I am crying again the conversations the songs the subtle touches gosh, they are so soft and love each other so much ~ I need 2jae to be happy love you beautiful ~

I missed you beautiful!!!!!! <333

I rewatched it yesterday morning as well ^^ and gooosh… what cuties adorable fluffy boyfriends *faints* 

jaebum, you really need to bend your knees that much.. *subtly trying to get closer*


also.. just youngjae staring at jaebum, like more than often, even though Youngjae always looks at jaebum even when he is suppose to speak to the audience or mc or camera, in this case, camera :)

and when Jaebum would stare… wow

and trust me, jaebum indeed kept getting closer and don’t pretend your hand is not close to youngjae, jaebum

I was frustrated? because their arms, like that? couldn’t they just be natural and let their arms,… you know.. wrap each other xD

hold hands already..

Also.. Jaebum, why was Youngjae’s hidden camera a memorable event? is it because you comforted Youngjae when you made him cry??….

Also when Youngjae asks Jaebum what would he do if his best friend mark took his girlfriend/boyfriend away from him, and then Youngjae said “nicer version” knowing jaebum would probably be aggressive hahaha

and then their cute nicknames for each other….

Jaebum to Youngjae: Young-dere (chundere/tsundere, meaning someone who acts cold at first to a person before they show a warmer side to that person)

and then we have Youngjae..

Youngjae to Jaebum: Lim Klutz

BUT WHAT IS CUTER IS THEY BOTH MADE IT UP! Jaebum actually admitted to thinking about it.. thinking about Youngjae.. and also Jaebum has said Youngjae is a tsundere before :) ok maybe Youngjae’s was more of a slander hahaha
Jaebum: Youngjae is asking for a pillow fight

it isn’t 2jae, if there is no mention of mark :]

Then 2jae picking each other as a brother who is loyal, but only picking each other because of feeling like “brothers”… sure..

I also like how Jaebum is like, “i’m good to you,” then Youngjae is like, “You were”, then defensive Jaebum is, “Not ‘were’ *Insert Youngjae’s laughter here* You’re asking for a pillow fight”
Me: DO IT!

i can go on forever but let me just say one more thing:
Youngjae and Jaebum picking, Eric Benet - Crack of my (dayana’s) broken heart, because both of them sang it.. together, and it’s coincidentally Jaebum’s favorite song.. and while Youngjae was singing so beautiful…. jaebum was so still and enjoying and i’m broken because jaebum is SINGING TO YOUNGJAE

JB: Oh shoot, the camera.. look phone

let youngjae sleep, bum..

Also jaebum revealed, the both of them.. went to go take vocal lessons, together… with that professor that scolded our otter a lot

BUt yup… I’m glad Youngjae has a boyfriend who loves the sound of rain as well <3333

i’ll go now <3 there is so much to talk about though…

Love you !! anony!!! Take care and be healthy always <333

Dating 101: Asking her out

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Pairings: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Cliffhanger 

Words: 922

A/N: I know there’s still a week left until Valentine’s day but since I’m planning on doing a second (or more idk) part of this, I decided to post it now and have the whole story ready for the actual day. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this! Any suggestions or feedback is more than welcome.

Forever tag: @deathtonormalcy56, @my-sharpie-sketches, @mamaredd123, @professionalfangirl03, @fangirl1802, @cozyjaws, @attackdogcas

Castiel’s forever tag: @whats-the-matter-with-y0u, @1978supernatural

Want to be tagged? just send me an ask and I’ll tag you on my next fics ❤

Originally posted by princesscas

January, 31

“So, (Y/n), do you have any plans for this Valentine’s Day?” Dean asked you with a smirk on his face before taking a sip of his beer.

You squinted your eyes, and almost unnoticeably you shook your head, but by the way he choked on his beer you knew he had seen it.

“I don’t know” you said as you watched the blue eyed angel with the corner of your eye, his attention was focused on a book he was reading, you thought he looked ridiculously cute when his brows would furrow with whatever he was thinking.
You felt yourself blushing, so you cleared your throat, “I really don’t think so. Why, are you interested?” You winked at him.

Dean wiggled his brows “I might be, ” he said and Cas, who had remained in silence, accidentally dropped the book he was holding moments ago causing you to startle and stop jokingly flirting with Dean.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. The book just slipped from my hands, ” he said while picking the book up, and instead of returning to it, he joined both of you at the table you shared.

“No worries, man. Do you have any plans for this Valentines?” Dean asked Cas and the angel just turned his head to where he met the smirking green eyed man and gave him a dead “no” for an answer.

Keep reading

Hurricane Thundercloud

Originally posted by fourteenyearswithpain

Warnings: Character death, hospitals, mentions of needles and tubes stuck into the human body, blood, slight gore, explosions, pain and heartbreak. ANGST AND TRAGEDY.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N This is a song based oneshot.

Word count: 2045

Based on this song


Albeit the circumstances, Bucky was in a somewhat spaced out feel.

The hospital wing was too clean, too pristine. The smell of antiseptics and latex gloves drowning him and making him gag. The white walls made him feel alienated, blinded and, most of all, scared. It was the sixth night of barely any sleep, the dark rims around his eyes made him look undead, his hands were shaking in his lap.

It was an accident. It should have never happened.


I wish that I had known in

That first minute we met

The unpayable debt

That I owed you


You were walking along with your cardboard coffee cup in hand, the sound of millions of footsteps in New York echoing around you as you tried to navigate to the nearest gym.

You looked up to see a tall figure walking past a group of young men, they provoked him, asking for his wallet, they were being ridiculous, the man was much taller, stronger. You watched from a couple yards away as one of the thugs reached into his back pocket for a small stanley knife. It was only a matter of milliseconds before you began sprinting up towards the group shouting ‘Stop! Stop! He has a weapon!!!’

Onlookers gasped as the thug went to lunge for the tall person in front. The man easily dodged his blade and kicked the boy in the stomach, sending him flying across the path. The other fled before they could risk the large boot.

“Excuse me, Sir? Are you okay?” You asked quietly, you got a full view of his face then, his eyes were icy blue and his lips full, his jaw was sharp and you could tell he was built like a super soldier.

“Yes Ma’am, thank you for warning me.” Bucky said, looking at the small woman in front of him, he knew the gang had weapons, but he was grateful that someone, a total stranger, could see it coming too.

“You’re welcome, may I ask your name?” He asked, timidly.

“It’s Y/N, and yourself?”

“Bucky, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N, you saved my life.”


Because you’d been abused

By the bone that refused you

And you hired me

To make up for that


“Well, you can make up for that, would you care to accompany me to the nearest gym?”

“Of course, Ma’am-”

“Please- call me Y/N.”

The walk to the gym had started a whole new chapter in your life. You were somewhat glad the gang was there that day, or else you wouldn’t have met the love of your life.

30th of October, 2016, 8:28 AM.

You peeled your eyes open, the dim lighting of the sun between the willowy blinds emitting soft lines around the grey coloured room. You turned to look at the alarm on the nightstand, the large numbers reading 8:30 AM.

You proceeded to shift out from under the covers when an arm squeezed you back to a hard chest. The familiar scent of aftershave and coal tar soap invading your nostrils.

“C’mon baby, move, some people work for a living.” The soft smile on Bucky’s face gave away that he was, indeed, awake,his strong arms holding you against his firm torso. “Okay, I get it; you’re holding me hostage.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose as he mumbled ‘we work at the same place’

“Not the point, sleeping beauty. I have training with Sam and Natasha at nine o’clock, I have twenty minutes, now scoot before I tickle you.” Bucky groaned heavily with a pout as he loosened his grip from your waist.

You slipped out from under the heated duvet, the cool morning air making goosebumps raise on the soft skin of your body. You prepared to wince as your bare feet made contact with cold hard flooring, but was greeted with the fuzzy texture of a carpet. You didn’t sleep on your side of the bed last night, so that was a pleasant surprise.

After relieving yourself, having a wash and brushing your teeth, you slipped on some lightweight sports gear and filled up your water bottle for the day’s training, you headed over to Bucky’s still resting form and straddled his waist.

“Hnnng, I thought you were supposed to be going by now?” Bucky mumbled, sloppily resting his hands on your hips.

“I only wanted to give you a good morning kiss!” You chuckled. You heard the tranquil sounds of the bird outside your window, and a small smile tugged your mouth upwards.

“C’mere then you big baby,” Bucky mumbled, pulling your face down to his. You broke the kiss before he could deepen it, and bid your temporary farewell.

10:30 AM.

DPV, formally known as the Desert Patrol Vehicle, salvaged from an abandoned 1982 Army Barracks. Renovated by Agent 4623/Y/L/N. Last MOT passed as of 8/24/16.

4th driving test track surrounding the compound. Driver: Agent 4623.

You signed the paperwork once again to your dismay. You were the legal owner of this dune buggy and you STILL had to sign confidentiality papers and whatnot. You had driving practice with Natasha at this time of the week, you both went onto the fourth track set around the compound. It was fun, the most fun exercise a person could have, and the exhilaration and speed gave you an adrenaline rush.

You were in the garage when the smell of petroleum became incredibly strong, the stench made you gag and you checked every fuel cap on all 37 vehicles, including your own, for the source. Nothing showed up, though you were weary, you buckled in and revved the engine.

You didn’t even get out of the garage when the sound of screeching metal and explosions happened right behind you. Your buggy was on fire and you scrambled out of your seat and ran for safety.

You got 9 yards outside before the explosion increased tenfold, shrapnel and different types of liquid flew everywhere. You felt an excruciating pain in your ribs and looked down to see a metal beam as thick as your ankle penetrate you through your suit, blood began to seep through the material and the adrenaline in your bloodstream faded into nothingness.

You heard Natasha’s familiar voice scream your name before your vision became blurry and dark.


Walking in that room

when you had tubes in your arms,

those singing morphine alarms

out of tune


Bucky didn’t belong here. He felt sick.

He looked down at the hospital bed in front of him, drips and tubes everywhere, a heart monitor on the left, bags of blood and water and morphine high on a hook on the right. You were in the middle of it, a bloodied white gauge wrapped around your frame, a tube placed into your nose and the sheets bunched around your waist.

You had a cannula stuck in both arms, both taped down to your skin.

Bucky didn’t even recognise the person on the bed, for she was gaunt, lifeless, she looked like an experiment. But she was just a fatal tragedy.


They had you sleeping and eating

And I didn’t believe them

When they called you

A hurricane thundercloud


The doctors and nurses, including Bruce and Cho, had kept you sleeping and eating through tubes. When Bucky shifted a chair to sit by your bed, he held your cold hand in his, his long fingers stroking circles into your skin, as if he was going to get a squeeze back. When Bruce and Cho came back to redress the large gaping wound, they suggested Bucky to leave, but he didn’t. He stayed put and held your hand as the dressings were changed.

He choked as he saw the abyss where there were snapped ribs, there was torn tissue and blood everywhere, and he couldn’t help but sob silently. He crouched down to his knees and rested his face in your hand, kissing the freezing skin with his lips, begging you to get better.

He wasn’t the religious type, but he prayed to whatever god was up there too spare you, make you better, have a longer life, to not let you be put on the top of his master plan list of names.

“She’s going to be a hurricane thundercloud, Banner.” He heard Cho whisper, he knew what that meant; a person who has lived a meaningful life but dies suddenly, he just didn’t want to believe it.

“No, no we can fix this, there must be a way.” Bruce then looked down at Bucky’s whimpering form with solemn pity.

As the redressing of your wound was finished, both doctors dissipated out of the small white room. Leaving only you and Bucky in a cloud of despair.


When I was checking vitals

I suggested a smile

You didn’t talk for a while

You were freezing

You said you hated my tone

It made you feel so alone

So you told me

I had to be leaving


As the night went on, Bucky stayed, he only left once to hastily relieve himself and that was it. He came back and unknowingly checked the monitors by your head. He noticed your heart beat had become slightly slower and took a deep breath. He heard fabric shift suddenly and looked down to see you squinting up at him.

You went to move from your rigid position but Bucky stopped you.

“No no no no, baby don’t move, you’re hurt real bad, doll.” The words came out like a stream of water’ quick, cold, sad, blue.

“Your tone… sounds so flat… it makes me sad, Buck… “ You whispered, “You’ve been here for a long time, you should leave… and get rest-” Your voice stopped as blood dripped down your chin. Bucky rushed to your side with a damp tissue and carefully wiped it away.


But something kept me standing

By that hospital bed

I should have quit but instead

I took care of you


Although you told him to leave, he stayed. He was there for a whole 2 weeks. Only leaving shortly a few times to change and wash. The stubble on his chin became scruff, and his hair was constantly tied back into a small bun. He always came prepared, with water, tissue, and a hairbrush, and your favourite book.

He would take care of you in ways the doctors couldn’t; he gently brushed your hair every morning and night, he stroked the soft skin of your wrists and arms in ways you loved, he arranged the fresh bouquets of flowers on your bedside table into colour coordinated sections- a thing you always did whenever he bought you flowers. He read to you when he wasn’t doing anything else, he asked Steve to buy that Harry Potter side book you liked, what was it called? The Tale of Beatle or something?

He whispered sweet nothings to you as he drifted off into an uneven sleep, mumbling incoherent words. It was a hectic routine, he would fall asleep and jerk awake, panicked, scared you had disappeared.


You made me sleep all uneven

And I didn’t believe them


It was the 16th night when Bruce finally came into the room for the last time, the panic button was hit by Bucky himself when blood began to seep through the bed covers and onto the floor, your wound hadn’t healed one bit.

Bucky could do nothing but watch your convulsing form as the defibrillator paddles were shocking your heart through your breastbone.

Ugly, salty tears were streaming down his face as two men tried to usher him out of the room, trying to spare him the traumatizing scene. Bucky began to scream as soon as the devastating words fell from Bruce’s lips.

“There’s no chance of saving her, Bucky, I’m so sorry, I truly am.” The sound of a flatline made Bucky fall limp, he crawled his way over to your side, his hands grasping your forlorn face. He placed delicate kisses all over your face, whilst muttering the words ‘I love you so much, Y/N, I love you so much’ over and over again. “You saved my life, but I couldn’t save yours…”


When they told me that there

Was no saving you


Just some ppl I wanna tag:


Nova vs 19: Friday

Hello everyone, Mr.E here with the newest nova chapter and the start of the new arc which is exciting yay! I hope everyone had an amazing week and has a great weekend. 

So the title? what’s it mean? easy. that whole last arc? was one day, Thursday. yep it all happened in a matter of hours. Friday has come and with it, a chance to play with your exceptions. So i took a chance with this chapter and i promise none of you could’ve seen this coming but I still hope you enjoy it. 

for anyone stumbling upon this, here is the link to the story on ff. 

so have an amazing day, a great weekend and please let me know what you think of this chapter. I took a chance and I want to know if you all want me to keep trying this out.

notification squad @hipster-rapunzel @artgirllullaby @isolated-frequencies @thefandombytes

Keep reading


To understand and feel for others as to adjust the way act, speak, and life is a practice we must all work to carry out. Indeed, there is something rare yet beautiful about the way we interact and communicate to others. To feel the pain of another individual forces us to change our thoughts and feelings; seeking a way to better the situation. Let us work on empathy for God gave us the ability to feel as to grow our relationships day after day.

Lady in Red Part II

Gifs not mine

A/N: It’s here guys! I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the first one!

Warning: A bit dirty, not really, and I think a curse I’m not sure lol.

Weeks after the “Lady in Red” incident it was still being posted and talked about by any reporter who interviewed Chris but today was your interview with a few colleagues of Marvel to discuss the plans for the upcoming Marvel movies. You straighter your posture, flattened your hair down, and looked at outfit once more the white dress was very loose around your body making you feel free and open another dress (Y/B/F) styled for not trying to attract much attention unlike your devil red dress. “Ready (Y/N)?” Joe Quesada said looking at you through the mirror, you smiled and nodded turning towards him walking outside of the dressing room, Joe Quesada was Marvel’s Chief Creative Officer and although he wasn’t your boss you always gave him the upmost respect because he truly had so much on his plate when something like this happened. 

You walked onto Jimmy Kimmel’s set looking around in awe never in a million years did you think you would be in here for an interview, you looked over to the audience who looked so ecstatic at the mere reveal of the brain behind the Marvel movies “Come please sit, although (Y/N) I would like you to sit near me.” Kimmel said patting the first spot on the couch you walked over trying to balance yourself not needing a repeat of last time when you sat down the other men followed you in total there were 3 others with you. Joe was back stage talking to someone but when he say you looking at him he had given you two thumbs up and a warm smile which you returned he mouthed “Good lucked” before returning to his call walking deeper behind stage. 

“Hello everybody today we have special guest tonight, now they make not look familiar and your probably like ‘Jimmy who the hell are all these random people?’ Well, I can promise you they aren’t random and you have seen their big work on the stage. These people sitting here are (Y/N)(Y/N), Will Meugniot, Steve Skroce, and Mike Ploog and these names you’ve never heard of appear at the end of your newest and favorite Marvel movie.” Jimmy said causing a couple of people in the audience to stand and start clapping “They make all the story boards for the movie, and they do a great job if you ask me but (Y/N) is the new comer when it comes to this, so how do you feel about being the only women storyboard creator?” Jimmy asked motioning you to move up in your sit so you were closer to the microphone, your nerves had begun to pick in badly “I feel honored really I get to work along with these talented men and so many other talented people every day and they truly love new perceptive on work and that’s why I was hired.” You said looking over at the guys who were giving you genuine warm smiles “So now if my sources are correct you’re a blogger and a story board creator both for Marvel? Why a blogger when you already do so much?” He asked leaning his elbow on the table placing his face in his hand “I’m a blogger because writing has always been a passion of mine but my creativity usually bends and shapes in all different types of ways, once I got the job at Marvel I dedicated my blog to Marvel based anything and it became a huge hit in the community because of the big love for Marvel. I’m a workaholic so I need to occupy myself and what better what to do that with something you truly love?” You responded shrugging softly laughing a bit at Jimmy’s reaction, he looked so flabbergasted and in awe at the same time. 

“You sure are one educated women, I bet all the men at work swoon over you.” He said as if he wanted something to add but he didn’t yet he didn’t need to because you already he was going to say something Chris related “You may think that but they all see me like their little sister as if I must be protected at all times.” You said and the three men beside you nodded “Well what about this picture then?” Jimmy said pointing to the screen in front of you displaying the picture of you in Chris’ arms, this was the first time you had seen the actual picture you never noticed how truly beautiful the picture was the way his eyes shined even though he was looking down at you or the way your eyes held the same shine, the naturalness of your smile you actually looked purely happy “It’s truly a beautiful picture but that was the first day I had officially met Chris and the cast of Civil War, this picture was taken after I had broken my heel.” You stated as Joe had instructed you before you came out on stage “Well did you feel anything when you were in the arms of Captain America?” Jimmy said leaning over raising his eyebrows as if someone was going to tell him a huge secret “Yes just one, Embarrassment. Literally just met him for one day and my stupid heels and clumsiness didn’t really make anything better.” You said laughing causing Jimmy to laugh and the men seating beside you “Well I ship (Y/S/N). So that’s where I stand, now the Lady in Red has captured the hearts of America maybe to get closer to a certain someone hmmm…” Jimmy says winking at you and the audience rise in applause.

 "Well (Y/N) now that I’ve dissected you, it’s these three lovely men’s turn so please allow Guillermo to walk you back stage till next time Lady in Red, audience give a round of applause for (Y/N)(Y/L/C) the women is capturing our hearts now.“ He said as you got up and waved to the audience a good bye walking back stage. Once you reached you’re dressing room you plopped onto the couch just trying to relax and breath then you felt your phone vibrate when you looked to see who it was the number read unknown but regardless you picked it up to hear a voice that gave you shivers down your spine.

"Chris? How did you get my number?” You asked frantically looking around to nothing but an empty room “Wow, darlin relax. I took your phone when I had carried you remember? So I called myself from your phone. I woke up not long ago to see you look beautiful on your interview.” He said, his voice still the opityimi of morning voice it was rough and rugged the his sound making you begin to heat up inside “So why did you call me?” You asked eager for his response “Just to tell you that you looked deliciously stunning & Captain America is indeed in awe with you.” He said still in his morning tone, god could he be any sexier and he’s not even with you then your mind beings to travel to the idea of him waking up in your bed with that same voice how dreamy he would sound, just the mere imagine of his muscles and abs nearly make you moan in want “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” His voice now filled with pure concern.

 "Yes sorry Captain I dazed out… wait… I mean Chris . Shit.“ You said wanting to hang up but then you hear his boom of laughter that calms you down "Darlin, I could be your captain all you have to do is say when & where.” He said lowly , causing more heat to build up in your body “Chris, um is there any other reason you called?” You asked trying to divert the conversation “Yes, I was going to ask if you’d like to get coffee today around noon.” He said bluntly through the phone his morning voice completely gone “Um, don’t you think that will bring this Lady in Red fiasco more attention?” You ask looking at yourself in the mirror “Well only if you wear red again I mean honestly why wouldn’t you, it’s truly your color (Y/N).” He said and you could hear the smirk in his tone , causing you to blush even though he wasn’t in front of you.

 "Well Mr. Evans I will have you know I’m not expecting a regular Starbucks coffee.“ You said teasing him "Never, only the best for my Lady in Red.” You could hear the playful tone peeking out of him “I will pick you up at your house around 11:30. Wear something causal and don’t forget to bring that smile of yours Ms. (Y/L/N).” He said dropping your call causing you to look at your phone in disbelief then you noticed the time 8:30am, you then rushed to the front where Jared was waiting “Where to (Y/N)?” He said opening your door , you smiled and replied “Home.” While sitting down quickly fastening your seat belt feeling the butterflies in your stomach you couldn’t believe you were actually going out with Chris Evans.

Fuck the alarm-clock, literally - Mark scenario

Genre: smut
Warnings: blowjob
Summary: Mark is a deep sleeper. This is one way of waking him up.

Originally posted by jo-sielala

The ringing of the alarm made you open your eyes. You turned it off, turning around in bed to face Mark, your boyfriend. He was, as expected, still asleep.
You sighed and stared at his handsome face, now you have the chance. He usually covers his face from you or looks away.

Your eyebrows raised as his furrowed, is he having a nightmare?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard his breathing becoming heavier. He started biting his lip, letting out a tiny moan.

You sighed in relief, the last thing he needs is a nightmare. But that moan had you wondering about the dream he was having.

“Y/N… ” he groaned, moving around in bed. As you saw his hand move down, under the covers, you got an idea.
He needs to wake up anyways, what better way to do it than continuing his dream in reality?

You dived under the covers to see his hand moving over his crotch. Before he had a chance to get his hand in his underwear, you grabbed his wrist gently, moving it to the side. You heard a whimper as you did this, making you smirk.

You softly grabbed his clothed member, moving your hand up and down to make it grow. Once you saw it getting bigger you took off his underwear, making him moan a little louder. You wondered if he was still asleep.

You brought your head closer to his erection, eyes on his face. Maybe this’ll wake him up.
You stuck out your tongue and licked from the bottom to the tip, and you saw him stir awake.

He looked down to where you were, smirking at him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

He bit his lip at the sight in front of him. “A good morning indeed.”

You smiled, bringing your tongue back to his cock, seeing it twitch in anticipation. You licked the tip, taking it into your mouth. You saw his head fall back against the pillow in pleasure.
You swirled your tongue around his shaft as you took it deeper in your mouth. His hand grabbed a bunch of your hair, pulling on it slightly.

He couldn’t hold in a moan. “Oh baby.”
You couldn’t help but smirk, loving that you can make him feel like that.

One of your hands gripped the base, while the other played with his balls.
You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down.
The moans and heavy breathing became louder as you went faster.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he told you with a groan.

You moved even faster, using your hands to double his pleasure. Your tongue swirled around, not leaving a part untouched. When the grip in your hair became tighter, you knew he was close.

To add the last bit of stimulation, you moaned, the vibration throwing him over the edge.
You felt him releasing his cum in your mouth, his loud moan turning you on even more.

You sucked him dry, looking up at him as you swallowed the sticky substance. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting you to do that.

He smiled at you before dropping his head back against his pillow, his breathing still heavy. “You are the best damn alarm clock there is, baby.”

When you finished you crawled close to him, whispering in his ear. “Don’t you always say ‘Fuck the alarm clock’?”

“I should stick to my words, shouldn’t I?” he asked, smirking at you.

I’m sorry it’s so short! Also there are almost no gifs in which Mark looks sexy. He’s always cute. (Requests are open!)

Nico di Angelo X Reader - Lifeboat

Word Count: 1692

Summary: You, Nico, and your best friend are chosen to go on a quest together, despite the fact you’ve made it your mission to leave camp as little as possible.

“(Y/N)! We’re going on a quest!”


“You know Nico’s quest? He chose us to go with him.”

“That little bitch.”

Your name was (Y/N) (L/N). You were a simple girl with (H/C) hair, (S/C) skin, and (E/C) eyes. You dressed in fairly nice clothes, considering you spent your days at Camp Half-Blood. Your hair was always clean, and always either pulled away from your face in a messy, but good looking, bun or left to fall naturally in a way that only you could pull off. You were great with a spear, one of the best actually, and you trained hard.

Oh, and you were the daughter of Aphrodite.

Considering that information, your description might change drastically. You were simple for a daughter of Aphrodite, but beautiful. Your clothes were significantly nicer than most of the camper’s, but not extravagant enough for your siblings. You never did anything with your hair, and you trained harder than any of your siblings. Still, you got along with them and enjoyed every single one of them.

Your two best friends were odd. Marcy and Nico. A daughter of Aphrodite was only close to a daughter of Ares and a son of Hades. You loved them both, and you know they both loved you, but in the moment, you hated one of them. Your dear friend Nico knew you hated leaving the camp, yet he had chosen you to go along with him on his quest.

So you took off, toward the lake, where you knew Nico would be, sitting and thinking.

Keep reading

Originally posted by jiyoongis

virtual days

Mornings, daybreak, sunrise - all these things are as assured as tides crashing on shores, as real as the early spring chill suspended in the air unstirred yet by the early risers. 

Eyes closed, legs swinging, you hum a mysterious tune almost instinctively, threading along the notes until finally you remember where you heard that song. 

The morning air outside on your balcony was still damp from last night’s passing storm but it bothers you not, the old sweater you wear as pjs chasing the cold away. 

“Some spring.” 

A nonchalant comment on a nonchalant day. 

The buzz from your phone breaks the peace of nature’s song and you picked it up non committedly, glancing at the message splayed across the glaring artificial light, Jimin’s name big and bold across your screen. 

「 Morning sunshine ~ 」

「 What are you doing right now? 」

The only person as fond as the strange world of dawn as you, awake and ready to face the day. You smile, a smile you reserve only for him - a fact that no one, not even yourself, recognized just yet. 

「 I just woke up 」

「 Watched the sun rise, what about you? 」

Almost immediately, you see him typing away and you can’t help but wonder, can’t help but stare in anticipation at the three alternating dots, his words that always seem to find a way into your heart. 

「 I was on a walk because the weather was so beautiful 」

「 And then I saw flowers blooming so I thought of you!!! 」

You remember when you use to hate technology, when you use to take weeks to reply a text, sometimes months to return a phone call - not because you hate the person, no but because it had felt so impersonal, so cold. 

He continues on before waiting for your reply. 

「 And I stood there staring at the flowers, thinking about you with this stupid smile across my face and I didn’t even realise! 」

「 How embarrassing /.\ 」

You laughed before even meaning to and you remember the day he asks for your number, so smoothly, almost indifferent - well not really, he dropped him phone after all - but it was endearing all the same. 


「 Don’t worry, the only witnesses are the flowers so you’re good (maybe) 」

You remember the first time he sends you a text and you never knew how those simple digitized words, hello, could be so filled emotions, so packed with hopes for the future. And he’s surprised you ever since, again and again, just how wonderful these short exchanges about nothing at all can be. 

「 Say, I just thought of this but… 」

「 Do I always grin like an idiot when I’m with you???? 」

Slipping back into your room, you flipped the switch for the water to boil, spooning powdered coffee into your favorite mug and tossing a few slices of bread into the toaster, a routine like any other but today feels a tad lighter. 

「 That’s right 」

It was the truth and you see no point in lying, you like Jimin’s smile. 


「 YAH 」

「 You better not be laughing right now 」

Setting your phone down, you felt a sudden urge to see him laughing face, to bask in his company, to feel him beside you. 


「 Just you wait, I’m gonna get my revenge tomorrow 」

Toast hanging from your lips, the sound of the kettle boiling whistles through your empty house, the shrill of it’s voice bouncing off walls urging you on. 

“Go!” it says, “Hurry!”

「 I wish I could see you now, but it’s almost the weekend so I’ll wait till tomorrow 」

「 When I think that I’ll be able to see you soon, it makes me happy 」

You slip on your favorite sneakers and backtracked for your phone, buzzing in protest as Jimin attempts to annoy you into replying with his countless messages. 

「 I’ve got my shoes on! 」

But what he doesn’t realise is how none of this is anything but annoying to you, how as much as he wants to see you, you want to see him too. 

「 Eh? 」

「 You’re heading out? 」

The door slams shut behind you and you hustle out of the building into the fresh morning air, into spring. 

「 Yep ~ 」

「 Gimme a sec, I’m running over 」

Jimin was right, the weather is indeed beautiful. The pavements littered with green showed hints of reds, whites and purples. The coat of white that covered the world just yesterday had all but melted away, leaving behind a glistening sheen. 

The trees that had seemed so bare a few days before, now burst with life, the soft rustling of leaves accompanied you as you jogged across roads and slipped between buildings, your feet doing nothing but propel you forward, closer to where he is. 

「 I’m jealous :’) 」

「 Where are you going without me? 」

The narrow street gives way into a forest of trees, their beautiful song whispering sweet nothings, the shy morning light peeking between their leaves and danced lightly against your skin. 

There he was, his back turned, head tilted and hair tussled, a figure you’d recognise anywhere. 

Taking out your phone, you replied.

「 To see you 」

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

this is partly inspired by my ma boy, it was our anniversary recently, we were reminiscing and this memory made me really happy so… /hides/ I hope you guys liked it!  no he is not like jimin at all, idk why i wrote jimin tbh

- Raye (•ө•)♡

chartreuseabstruseness  asked:

I've got an idea- first time the Strategist picked up a male lover. Don't care what flavor of guy. I'm honestly very interested to know what you think would catch his eye enough to test the waters. Sexy eloquent times to make my queer heart sing, please and thank you? (P.S. bonus points for a neck tie of any sort being involved.)

[ISEB Author’s Note #1: I’ve had this Ask sitting in my inbox for ages, and it was one I had looked forward to tackling for a long time. Sadly, the demands of real life seemed to distract me every time I sat down to work on it; in an effort to wrap it up once and for all, I admittedly rushed through the prose a bit more than I would’ve liked. Likewise, I tried to avoid a specific dilemma that often crops up in fanfiction—the premise of two male paramours written 100% for the consumption of a female demographic—but as I am not a gay man myself, my attempts may have ultimately proved futile. For any of my followers who choose to skip this particular fic, I’m going to try very hard to get through at least one other Ask in my inbox before the day is over, so stay tuned!]

[ISEB Author’s Note #2: If you’ve kept up with any of my other fics at this point, you may be asking yourself why I avoid naming the paramours who happen to cross paths with everyone’s favorite strategist. The answer is simple: It gives the reader the option of projecting either themselves or their own OCs onto the characters in question. By naming them, I feel like it confines the story to my own personal headcanons; without the pesky limitations of names or titles, the reader is at liberty to imagine Ignis Scientia fellating Ronald McDonald, for all I care. That said, I fear I will be unable to circumvent the issue of naming the protagonist in my next work of Specs fanfiction; the best I can hope for is that you’ll come to love that character as much as I have!]

Ignis x Male Suitor; 6800 Words

Redunkulously NSFW

Keep reading

Here is my gift to my dear @m-aleciseverything & @highwarlockkareena for their birthdays!!


Morning glory 

There is no better feeling than waking up next to Alec, Magnus decides, as the first lights of the morning pull him out of sleep. 

His dark eyes, free of their usual glitter, linger on the sleeping form of his boyfriend, whose arms are loosely wrapped around Magnus’ waist. He admires the steady rise and fall of his Nephilim’s hair-covered chest for a while and he can feel himself smile lovingly.

He is such a sap.

His hand wanders on Alec’s bare shoulder, tracing the dark lines of the runes with delicacy, until he feels Alec stir out of sleep. “ ‘Morning,” the younger man mutters, although it’s rather an incoherent noise that comes out of his lips.

Magnus leans in for a peck, locking their lips together. “Good morning indeed, Angel.” Alec’s eyes open slowly, a lazy, sleepy lopsided smile that makes Magnus’ insides twist.

Alec looks so peaceful, so beautiful in his half-awake, half-asleep state, Magnus can’t help but press his lips against the pake neck of his boyfriend, worship the sensitive skin of his pulsepoint, licking at the deflect rune there with care.

His Shadowhunter moans, his hazel eyes fluttering close as he straightens up on the bed, taking Magnus up with him. The warlock easily sits on Alec’s lap, his tongue still doing sinful things to Alec’s neck, eliciting small moans and groans from them both.

Eventually, Magnus’ lips kiss a trail up from his neck to his jaw to his lips, and his ringless fingers find Alec’s shoulders. “You’re so beautiful.” Magnus whispers against his lips, his hot breath sends shivers along Alec’s spine, making his cheeks burn. He tightens his grip on Magnus’ thighs, bringing him even closer. 

Magnus’ mouth is back on his, and he feels intoxicated by their taste and shape. 

Alec takes a sharp intake of breath when they part for a second, a warm feeling invading his body. The glamour of Magnus’ eyes fades away as they stare at each other, lust boiling in their blood, as blue sparks spring out of Magnus’ fingers, working their magic through Alec’s body.

And when their lips fuse again, Alec knows there is no better feeling than waking up next to Magnus, either.

anonymous asked:

Hey there, I came across your post on how people take the quote, "but Lyanna was beautiful" at face value and ignore its subtext. Can you elaborate on what you mean? Are you saying people will take the truth of Lyanna being beautiful and ignore how it affects Arya? Or that people believe it implies that Lyanna's beautiful but Arya's ugly? I feel like I totally missed the point lol sorry

Hi Anon,

It was by and large me responding to something that I saw on my dashboard and reacting.  But I’ll happily explain my thoughts on Arya, Lyanna, and beauty since you ask.

“Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.”

“Lyanna was beautiful,” Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya. (Arya II, AGOT)

Ned’s quote is about Lyanna; Arya’s response is about Arya.  Ned is remembering his sister and seeing her in his younger daughter; Arya doesn’t think she’s beautiful, or that, even, she is capable of being beautiful.  

This is directly linked to a few things: Sansa being beautiful–and being praised for her beauty–is the first one; Jeyne’s jealousy which induces her to start calling Arya “Horseface” (and Sansa’s participation in that) is another.  It’s only one plane in which Arya feels inadequate, but it’s an important one.  

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse.  (Arya I, AGOT)

So, having her father tell her, 1) that she acts like Lyanna and 2) that she looks like Lyanna is a major deal for her.  If Arya is used to being put down by Sansa, Jeyne, and Septa Mordane, having someone who people consider to be beautiful as someone her father associates her with is major.  Indeed–they look so much alike (and I’d say act alike as well) that Bran confuses Lyanna for Arya during his visions initially:

Eddard Stark dissolved, like mist in a morning sun. Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn’t be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. “You be quiet, stupid,” the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. “It’s just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?” She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool, but before she got him out again, the two of them were gone. (Bran III, ADWD)

Ned’s obviously biased, but his memories are that Lyanna was very pretty: 

Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness.  (Eddard I, AGOT)

You also have a biased testimony (of a different sort) in Kevan Lannister before he dies:

Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun. (Epilogue, ADWD)

Arya looking like Lyanna is something that says that this girl, who has been told she’s ugly for a great deal of her life (a major theme in her arc), is not ugly at all, but rather has been made to believe that she’s ugly.

I’ve seen people call Arya ugly, taking Sansa’s and Jeyne’s testimonies at face value.  It doesn’t happen frequently, but I’ve seen it.  I tend to think that’s a sign that people are missing some major points about Arya’s looks when they come from people who aren’t related to her, and don’t know what Sansa or Lyanna look like:

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.” ([Gendry] Arya IV, ASOS)

“I’m sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.”

“Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave.” ([Lady Smallwood] Arya IV, ASOS)

Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so far away, and the lady who’d said she was pretty. (Arya X, ASOS)

”Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty?“ ([Kindly Man] Arya II, AFFC)

“Wear this when you are here,” the priest said, “but know that you shall have little need of it for the present. On the morrow you will go to Izembaro to begin your first apprenticeship. Take what clothes you will from the vaults below. The city watch is looking for a certain ugly girl, known to frequent the Purple Harbor, so best you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own. Who are you, child?” 

“No one,” she replied. (The Ugly Little Girl, AFFC)

People routinely call Arya pretty.  So I don’t particularly like it when people who actively belittled her looks are the ones whose testimony is taken more as evidence.

[In Your Shadow]: The Lord of The Wings

Autumn’s Crimson-Leaf,

And Inked Spring’s Ravenshade,

None shorter for a Golden Flower…

Unravel the masquerade.

 The air of the Forest had begun to bare its deceitful treachery upon the joint fates of the two most unlikely companions. Rank upon rank of bark and bough had begun to seep away in the distance, and the further the eye pursued their folds did they sink into an unsettling, murky gloom, laden with a ghastly, silvery mist. Breath availed them not and catered less so to them–their lungs would feel the Shroud’s bosom constrict, as the recline of pure air had come to hint at. It had been an atmosphere accustomed to regions hosting a rich palette of lichen upon unkempt barks–breathing became stifling, the air infatuated with moisture and subtly robbed of clarity, deviously robbing the pair of both sight and comfort. It had not depleted too direly, though. Slipstreams of wind still coursed through the fibers of grass both verdant and murky–under the great, harrowing crowns of boughs did the green carpet grow bolder, held captive by an audience of darker hue.

 Draping the hind of his knuckles against the fine, bulbous peak of his nose, the Sea Wolf would struggle to make aught out of the play that took center stage before that very selfsame snout–a moderate, silenced gasp chanted from his lips as the terrible form of the Shroud-daughter yielded to release, yearning to incur a wrath of her own conjuration–she fended for another cause, that much would not elude his perceptive keenness. His best guess lingered with the idea of assertion–dominance. Rivienne was not wont to bend knee and heel before a militant authority–and less so in the face of adversity propagated by no face indeed. Rhotdornn’s breath grew stale, and his orbs gave away a lulled, swayed portrayal. Hers was a wrathful, sundering form–one outfitted with looming terror and not found at a lack of terrible luster, either. An icon of horror, both divine and awe-inspiring. Her fear was become fled before her divinity, and even the Shadows themselves reeled and trembled like brittle twigs in the righteous gust ripping from a striking gale. From her palm sprung reflections of gleaming bright, and the air had come to be restored–even if to last the couple for but a breath’s respite, before equally, once more, whittling away abandoning them to the mercy of the Twelve–and whatever phantom harried the trees on that eve, to boot.

 The raven greeted her newfound gown of aether and splendor with a craning of its head heavensward. It knew its part–and it knew to play it to perfection in these negotiations and under the decree of these circumstances. Stubbornly would its feet crave the coolant ground, an act of paralleled need of imposition. However, not much of the same could be rehearsed for its brethren–the curtain speckled with many-a-green began to extinguish, the dots in the bloated, blackened wall of the Forest’s wooden folds gradually depleting, one after the other–the swarm of emerald counted lower and lower, until, at last, the final pair of orbs only lingered atop them from a high-vaulted, remote crown of swaying leaves. Far less avian were they introduced to the two, if looks were a feasible judge to go by–a greatly humanoid trait shaped their pupils in an elegant round, their glow protruding through attentive lids–far from closed, yet not maliciously agape, either. They watched restlessly. Tirelessly laboring to cater to the pair’s curiosity–and destiny, respectively.

  At a sudden notice, a hollow breath began sneaking into the luxuriant earlobes of the juvenile nymph. If senses could betray her, they would alert her to the lack of an external voice–but one that almost took onto the suit of appealing to her from within her mind.

“What crave you? What twisted malice do you ride through these woods, driving it through every stump and splinter? Harrowing these grounds with the taint of blood you’ve soaked your fingers in the past?”

 Time did not lend assistance to the maiden, either–’twas as if the chronoveil had become stuck in its loop, a plane bereft of time’s passing–and still was it that only she could remain privy to the lush murmurs of the ghastly choir, hushing and gently tickling her earlobes with a chilled, fresh breeze. The woods to her had gone quiet, the surrendered to the strings of wind that caressed the strings which lulled them into dance, which robbed them of nimbleness and equally so which ripped them from their brittle twigs and battered branches.

“Golden… Flower…”

 The allure in the voice had served but one goal–one purpose. A speck of brilliance fell unto the beak of the raven, and from its nest upon the spears of verdant-green had it begun radiating, breaking through string and string of grass anew. A weak pulse had stemmed from it–and warmth it bequeathed upon the crust of the earth below. Without fail would the raven wind its neck past the obtrusion of grass and blade most emerald, securing the source betwixt the clutches of its keen beak. It’s wings drove in bold arcs apart, for wide they were, and wider still–their full length could stand even with the span of the Shroudmaiden’s shoulderblades were one attentive to such detail. Claps of its wings saw it pushed into the seams of air, yet not too far would it elevate, nor too high would it yearn–steering clear of her companion, the raven sought the heavens, until its flapping of wings could be heard a head above the Shroudmaiden’s own, thin earlobes. From the clutch of its beak hung an elegant, silver chain–the way it soaked and drank in the moonlight betrayed the rings that lined its links immediately, for only one metal gleamed so brightly, so lively, so mysteriously in the eye of the Moon–mithril.

 And from such loose chain an even more so loose opportunity–offering–teetered upon the precipice of her attention. A soft, simple, golden ring. No markings had it borne, no letters encrusted upon its flesh, no gem crowned its splendor–no. Absolutely nothing had it brandish any redeeming, unique traits–no plethora of virtuous designs, nothing save the vibrancy of the golden hue that coveted its span, and the perfect fit it matched for the digit of her own proportion.

“And now, at last to it we come. I will give you this ring freely! In place of this dreadful abyss that harrows your heart you will set up a splendid harmony. And no longer in it shall there be dark, but beautiful and terrible shall it come to be as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the… Earth.”

 The final word streamed fluently from the enigmatic source, and great succor did it find in its utterance–a hollow pause would have the forest suffer the blight of anticipation. From the trinket itself stemmed a coat of challenging dread–and great would it grow indeed, for if it were gazed through its circlet, the maiden would suffer a flash shroud her own mind–and a split second would unravel before her a myriad, tome’s worth of pictures–a burning, crimson slit, shaped like a circle. And from it would vigilance spread, and dread would haunt and herald dominion. Far in the skies was it vaulted, concealed by bough and riddled with a buzzing cocoon of ripe aether. It willed her forth, seeking nourishment in the streams of her courage’s well–to gnaw away at her hope, happiness, life. Swiftly would these images snap like a tense band from her mind, and back unto the frozen standstill of a reality would she be delivered once more.

 At length it once more chimed, passing forth its final query.

“Your dread for harmony, your choice for his suffered existence. The same blade that clings to his sheath, freshly sharpened for your hand only… Will be his demise should you choose poorly.”

“To live is but to choose, Shroudmaiden. Now, yet, you command the fate of another with your own choice… Whatsoever will you choose?”

 Upon closer inspection back within the Sea Wolf’s coat had the blade long fled its scabbard, and now the pieces were accounted for–and revealed. From any vantage point of the woods could an emissary of death issue their strike, easily dispatching either under the nocturnal gown and the stealth of mist that slathered the Wood in a deathly, sickly-grey odor, welling with thickness and density.


Worry can quickly get the best of us. We can find ourselves easily concerned about unnecessary or simply unimportant events or tasks. Indeed, this worry that comes about can often lead us to make poor decisions that would otherwise be frowned upon. We must focus on the goals and aspirations of our future and getting to the top for as we do this, worry will become non-existent.