threatening sky

They say not to bring home girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. But this is neither of our homes, and somehow I think that protects us both. On his land, I don’t think he would dare to touch me.  When the night began to grey I heard the first chimes of the bell and then the cawing of the crows. I curled my face in to his shoulder and breathed him in, almost surprised at how solid and present he still was. Wood smoke, pine, maple syrup, wine, and something animal and alive. He didn’t smell like he’d be gone in a few hours, but fairy gold never does for all that it’s made in their image. For a moment, his face winks out in to the darkness, but when I look back up from his shoulder it is there again, gently blowing smoke in his sleep.  With the next ringing the crows again threatened to drag the sky in to daylight but darkness still held our corner of the room. Light enough though that for a moment I was scared to turn around, that though I could newly see, I would not find him laying against my back where I’d remembered him, or that he would be wearing a different skin. A deep inhale behind me, an exhale through the nose that blows cool air between my shoulder blades, where he had asked me to press against on his own back a few hours before (“a thumb, or your chin”), a curious feeling of wings under skin when I did so. I had rested by face there, wrapped my arm around and nearly scorched my fingers when they rested above his heart. I find myself surprised at the lack of fire on his breath now, though his chest still heats the bed on its own. When I wake in a few hours the muscles between my own shoulder blades will be unusually tight, but for now I let the steady puffs of air pull me back to sleep. I do not turn to look.  He was up before the third chime, and suddenly there was no more space between us, no careful blanket distance or borderlands. He wrapped around me less like a man than a large cat, a dragon curled round its hoard. There was the sense beyond what I could touch, of too much body and too many limbs, collapsing in to materialization upon contact, filling the futon, gravity pouring in to us. And then as quick, untangled and up, putting on boots heavier than they should be and gathering bits of himself from around the room.  As he opened the front door, I heard the ring of the third bells, but now, no crows cawing. They wait. When the door closed behind him, a sunbeam filled the space he left, illuminating the yellow stairs with his afterimage, the radiance of transformation. From outside, I heard something like a purr, footsteps rumbling and rolling, and a great rustling, as though a tree had unfurled all its leaves at once with the snap of a lady’s fan, as though they had browned and dropped crackling against each other in the next breath, as though a great many wings were headed skyward and south, away from the still-warm bed and me in it. They say not to bring home girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. I wonder if a kiss can be somewhat like a bite of food, a taste of something irrevocable, a contract signed on contact. I wouldn’t know. We don’t kiss. Just hold each other or more often a careful space between. We chart a different elsewhere in this no mans land between bodies. Although somewhere the sap boils in to syrup and perhaps there will come a time when the crows demand their gold paid in truths…here, now, this, is enough.  With the third set of bells he was gone, and a little later so too was I.  

x

Airborne

Author’s Note: askdjalfjla help me. this is the next part of Jongin’s story in the Did You See? universe.
Pairing: Jongin x Reader (oc; female)
Summary: At nearly 5AM, Jongin wakes you up to show you something very important.
Genre: fluff; romance; au
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,550

Originally posted by kaibility

It’s the buzzing of your phone against the night table that pulls you, slowly and begrudgingly, from sleep. Ignoring the sound, and the person on the other end, you send a curious, needy hand out across the sea of the bed in search for Jongin. The curvature of his body is still there, warm and comforting, his shape indented into the mattress, though his body is absent. With your eyes still closed, your furrow your brow and scratch along the sheets, eagerly still seeking his skin.

But, once more, your phone buzzes.

Keep reading

4

Solas has spent his life as an apostate, living in the wilderness well away from the civilized world and those who would shackle him for what he is. He mastered his magic without the help of tutors, spending years exploring the spirit realm of the Fade and coming to an understanding of its denizens that few others could claim. He would be happiest left alone to sleep in ancient ruins, searching for memories and knowledge that has been lost for ages, but the Breach in the sky threatens all worlds.
At a time when other mages flee into hiding, Solas has put his freedom at risk by emerging from the shadows to assist those who would combat the chaos. He will not stand idly by when his knowledge of the arcane could mean the difference between salvation and utter destruction. 

Prompt #39: "Hey, I was gonna eat that!"

Alec savored nights like this.

It was rare that Alec, being the Head of the Institute, got the entire night off. Usually when he had nights off, he was required to stay at the institute just in case a problem arose.

But tonight, Isabelle practically pushed him out of the doors, assuring that she’d cover for him.

Alec quickly stopped to pick up food, moving as fast as he could once he spotted the dark clouds that filled the sky, threatening to pour their contents onto the city.

He was just a block away from Magnus’ apartment when he felt a drop of rain on his hand. That was the only warning he got before the sky opened up, and heavy rain began to pour down.

Alec sprinted as fast as he could, trying his best to shield the styrofoam takeout containers with his body to prevent the food from getting wet. He let out a sigh of relief once he entered the building, but he was soaked from head to toe.

Cursing under his breath, Alec made his way up to his boyfriend’s loft.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open with his back, arms full with his glamoured bow and the food.

“Alexander?” He heard, and his boyfriend walked into sight, eyes wide with surprise, brows knitted in concern. “You’re a little…wet.”

Alec rolled his eyes, but grinned nevertheless. He closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to Magnus’ lips in greeting, droplets of water dripping from his hair onto Magnus’ nose.

When they broke apart, they stayed together, enjoying the peaceful feeling of each other’s close proximity.

“Go change,” Magnus finally took a step back, and Alec could tell that he didn’t want to. “I’ll get dinner set up.”

Alec nodded, handing the food over to Magnus before turning and entering Magnus’ room.

He opened the closet and kneeled down, pulling open a drawer. His drawer, actually. It was filled with dark shirts, pants, everything he needed. It made him feel special, having his own place to store clothes at Magnus’ loft.

After changing out of his wet clothes and into a dry t-shirt and dark jeans, Alec made his way back out to the living room.

Magnus had set up their array of Chinese food on the coffee table, and while Alec could tell that his boyfriend had conjured up some extra goodies, he wouldn’t chide him for it. The couch was equipped with an arrange of blankets, and a paused episode of Chopped was lit up on the TV. It was a comfortable setup, and Alec couldn’t wait for their night to begin.

__________


“That’s totally unfair!” Magnus argued through a mouthful of Chow mein. “Sure, Brian left out a basket ingredient, but Ramirez served the judges raw meat!”

Alec laughed at his boyfriend’s rage. Magnus was obsessed with this show, and over time, Alec had become obsessed with it, too. He swallowed a bite rice before responding. “You know shows like this are rigged. Ramirez probably sucked one of the judge’s dicks before the show.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if it was true. She has that I-use-sex-to-get-what-I-want look.”

At that, they both laughed out loud.

Alec was still giggling as he looked down at his plate. He frowned, however, when he realized that he had no Potstickers left. Looking over at Magnus’ plate, he noticed that Magnus had one left.

Alec turned his head to the side, widening his eyes and looking toward the doors that led to the balcony. “Is that a cat?” He asked out loud.

“What?” Magnus turned his head, and Alec took the opportunity to quickly use his chopsticks to snatch the Potsticker off of Magnus’ plate.

“Alexander, there’s no c-” Magnus turned around, and Alec smirked before stuffing the Potsticker into his mouth. “Hey! I was gonna eat that!” Magnus’ mouth hung open, a look of betrayal on his face.

Alec swallowed and smirked devilishly. “Maybe if you kiss me, you’ll be able to taste it.” He teased.

Alec heard Magnus let out a low growl, and before he knew what was happening, he was tackled backwards, his head thumping against one of the many pillows that lined the couch.

“Say you’re sorry.” Magnus threatened, straddling Alec’s hips, hands pressing down on his shoulders to hold Alec under him.

“Make me.” Alec smirked, narrowing his eyes, and he was ready when Magnus dipped down and captured his lips in a heated kiss.

The kiss was messy, Magnus tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tongues exploring mouths. Alec tried to lift his arms to hold Magnus’ hips and pull him impossibly closer, but Magnus held him down firmly, so Alec gave up and let himself be dominated.

Alec wasn’t sure how long they’d been kissing when Magnus finally pulled back. Alec looked up at his boyfriend, pupils blown wide, lips parted, swollen from the delicious roughness of Magnus’ kisses.

“If only you always tasted like that…” A smirk curled onto Magnus’ lips as he panted, still out of breath.

“Am I forgiven?” Alec stuck out his bottom lip, giving Magnus his best puppy eyes. Magnus finally released his arms, so he lifted his hands to press against Magnus’ chest.

Magnus sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You’re forgiven. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Alec didn’t think twice before gripping the fabric of Magnus’ shirt in his hands and pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

The rest of their food went forgotten, going cold and untouched over the next hour.

(This was completely self-indulgent. I’m sorry. Send requests to my inbox if you’d like!!)

Friendships Can’t Last Forever

Request: “Hey I’m a big fan of your blog! If requests are open I’m hoping that if you don’t mind you could do a x reader based on the song cold by maroon five? Like the reader is jealous of Leta and Newts relationship and ruins her relationship with Newt by accident? Just really angsty stuff please ^_^”

Word Count: 2,056

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but tagging @caseoffics @red-roses-and-stories and @dont-give-a-bother

The first time you notice that creeping feeling nagging at your thoughts, you’re walking through the towering Hogwarts hallways. Other students pass by, gossiping and complaining and filling the way with other conversations that you ignore in favor of Newt’s own goofy jokes and interesting facts. His hair hangs in his face and he presses his books against his chest, knuckles white around the worn spines of his herbology textbooks. The glasses you love slip down his nose, but he doesn’t bother to adjust them as he looks at you, lips thinned in a nervous expression.

“I, erm, I was wondering if you would be fine with postponing our study time tonight.”

You frown. “You were going to help me with that potions essay.”

Newt swallows, looking at the stones under his feet as he continues forward. “Leta needs me for an emergency.” He doesn’t let you reply before launching into a further explanation. “I wouldn’t cancel if it weren’t important, but she swears up and down it is, and I don’t want her to deal with it on her own.”

He rambles on as the shadow of that nagging fear tugs at your thoughts. You feel odd, weird, like you ate something bad and it’s only just now catching up with you.

Considering yourself ridiculous, you shake the feeling off. Newt loves you. You may just be friends, but you’re best friends. He would never ruin your friendship for someone he has known only for a year.

“Newt,” you interrupt teasingly, “I think I can get through one night without seeing you. Might be a bit of a relief, actually.”

The wrinkles in his forehead smooth out as he laughs at your joke. “Glad I can make your day so easily.”

You continue talking all the way to herbology, that feeling of discomfort poking at you when Newt starts to discuss Leta’s thoughts on magical creatures.

You shove it away and try to focus on the way Newt looks at you.

Keep reading

They say not to bring home girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. But this is neither of our homes, and somehow I think that protects us both. On his land, I don’t think he would dare to touch me.  When the night began to grey I heard the first peals of the bell and then the cawing of the crows. I curled my face in to his shoulder and breathed him in, almost surprised at how solid and present he still was. Wood smoke pine maple sweat sweet sky wine and something animal and alive. He didn’t smell like he’d be gone in a few hours, but fairy gold never does for all that it’s made in their image. Though perhaps made in mine too, being gone just as soon, and his sort always did love shiny things. For a moment, his face winks out in to the darkness, but when I look back up from his shoulder it is there again, gently blowing smoke in his sleep.  With the next ringing the crows again threatened to drag the sky in to daylight but darkness still held our corner of the room. Light enough though that for a moment I was scared to turn around, that though I could newly see, I would not find him laying against my back where I’d remembered him, or that he would be wearing a different skin. A deep inhale behind me, an exhale through the nose that blows cool air between my shoulder blades, where he had asked me to press against on his own back a few hours before (“a thumb, or your chin”), a curious feeling of wings under skin when I did so. I had rested my face there, wrapped my arm around and nearly scorched my fingers when they rested above his heart. I find myself surprised at the lack of fire on his breath now, though his chest still heats the bed on its own. When I wake in a few hours the muscles between my own shoulder blades will be unusually tight, but for now I let the steady puffs of air pull me back to sleep. I do not turn to look.  He was up before the third chime, and suddenly – no more space between us, no careful blanket distance or borderlands. He wrapped around me less like a man than a large cat, a dragon curled round its hoard. There was the sense beyond what I could touch, of too much body and too many limbs, collapsing in to materialization upon contact, a flock a birds landing on me relentlessly one after another, shockingly heavy in their multitude. And then as quick, untangled and up, putting on boots heavier than they should need to be and gathering bits of himself from around the room.  As he opened the front door, I heard the ring of the third bells, but now, no crows cawing. They wait. When the door closed behind him, a sunbeam filled the space he left, illuminating the yellow stairs with his afterimage, the radiance of transformation. From outside, I heard something like a purr, footsteps rumbling and rolling, and a great rustling, as though a tree had unfurled all its leaves at once with the snap of a lady’s fan, as though they had browned and dropped crackling against each other in the next breath, as though a great many wings were headed skyward and south, away from the still-warm bed and me in it. They say not to go home with girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. I wonder if a kiss can be somewhat like a bite of food, a taste of something irrevocable, a contract signed on contact. I wouldn’t know. We don’t kiss. Just hold each other or more often a careful space between. We chart a different elsewhere in this no mans land between bodies. Although somewhere the sap boils in to syrup and perhaps there will come a time when the crows demand their gold paid in truths…here, now, this, is enough.  With the third set of bells he was gone, and a little later so too was I.  

[x]

Colours

Summary: It’s late and Dan can’t stop thinking, but Phil doesn’t mind.

TW: none

Word count: 628 lol it’s super short soz

ao3 link

This is my first little writing thingy idk what to call it lol but I hope you enjoy :)


It had been one of those nights for Dan, where everything seemed to be much bigger than it was and the sky threatened to swallow him up. His thoughts felt like static at this point and he needed to clear it out. He pressed his eyes closed as hard as he could and all he could see was more static; though this static was turning into colourful dancing grains across the inside of his eyelids, which made it more bearable at least. He slowly opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust back to the darkness. He didn’t like it. Being surrounded by darkness made Dan feel insignificant, and perpetuated his cycle of existential thoughts. It was dark and Dan needed colour. He slowly melted off his bed and onto his feet. It was late, but Phil wouldn’t mind. Phil was more than used to having his sleep interrupted by Dan’s nightly thoughts, but it never seemed to bother him, which Dan didn’t understand but was eternally grateful for. The low hum that rang in Dan’s ears was interrupted every couple of seconds by the sounds of the carpet squishing underneath is feet as he took steps towards Phil’s room, thankfully, there weren’t many. People joke about how inseparable they are, yet Dan doesn’t know if he would ever be able to get any sleep without knowing Phil was only a few feet away from him at most. Phil was asleep, so Dan walked into his room and cautiously sat on the end of his bed. The dip in the bed from Dan’s weight made Phil stir, ending up with him accidentally kicking Dan.

“Did I just kick you?” Phil said, still half asleep. Dan just laughed through his nose and mumbled,

“It’s fine, sorry I woke you”. Phil sat up to face Dan, trying to find his eyes in the dark.

“What’s up?” Dan sighed,

“Oh just,” He motioned his hands around his head,

“The usual”. Phil understood. He reached out his hand to touch Dan’s cheek and it was met with wetness from a stream of tears. Phil rubbed his thumb along Dan’s cheekbone to dry Dan’s face. Phil then moved his hand to the back of Dan’s neck and pulled him into his chest, which encouraged Dan to snake his arms around Phil’s torso. Dan let out a deep breath and let himself settle into the hug. Neither of them liked to be the one to let go of a hug first, so they didn’t.  Phil soon became more tired, and he lay back down in his bed with Dan’s arms still wrapped around him. Minutes passed and Dan finally began to feel his mind reduce the static to a dull white noise, and he felt sleepy. Though constantly tired, Dan rarely felt like he could ease his mind enough to sleep peacefully on his own. Sleepy was a nice feeling, and Dan didn’t want to let it go.

“Is it alright if I stay here tonight?” Dan whispered into Phil’s shoulder. Dan assumed Phil had fallen back to sleep already, but Phil moved his head closer to Dan’s. He could feel Phil’s hair on his face as Phil leant toward him to press a sleepy kiss to his temple. Thankfully it was dark because a blush crept across Dan’s face and he felt a new warmth in his chest. A small smile tugged at Dan’s lips as he finally closed his eyes. As Dan lay there with Phil, he no longer felt consumed by darkness behind his eyelids. He was relaxed and he didn’t need to see any colours to distract him, because the colour that made him feel safe was now inches away from him, warm in his arms.

anonymous asked:

Hello, there is something I need help with and that's describing weather. I tend ton use the usual "it was a rainy day" or "the rain drops fell from the sky..." or etc. Thanks in advance

Hello! 

The first thing I would advise is to familiarize yourself with a variety of weather related terms, just so you have the vocab to start with. 

Useful English: Weather and Temperature

Writing About the Weather

Weather Glossary

The next thing I would then like to say is to remember that the weather has many layers to it. It is far more than just rain or shine. I would take the time to write down lists of all the different “types” of each general weather in advance to use as a reference. 

For example, think about rain. Is is pouring rain? Is it a thunderstorm? Is there lightning? Or is it like a light mist? Is it foggy as well? How dark is the sky? Maybe it isn’t even raining just yet, but the overcast sky is threatening to rain soon. Rain, sun, snow, etc are all general descriptions, but it becomes a lot more interesting when you think of them in specific degrees, so to speak.

Next, remember to use your sensory details. Think:

- What does it look like? (If it’s raining, it might be dark, with gray clouds and rain drops or wind moving the trees)

- What does it feel like? (Again, if it’s raining, it might be cold, or humid, it’s obviously pretty wet, there might be pressure, etc)

- What does it sound like? (Thunder, the sound of rain hitting things in the surrounding setting, the wind)

- What does it smell like? (Rain in particular tends to have a very specific smell to it)

- What does it taste like? (in case of characters eating snow or catching raindrops on their tongues, or even breathing humid air can create a certain feeling)

You don’t check off each and every single one of these details every time you are describing the weather, but just quickly going through them can help you define what details you want to emphasize for a scene. 

Finally, think about the affect on the characters. Where are they exactly while this weather is happening? Are they comfortable or uncomfortable in it? Do they have anything to help them feel more comfortable? What are their personal preferences as far as weather conditions? Do they like it like this, or would they prefer something else?

Also try to remember that weather can help set the mood for a scene. A few key details can really change the affect of the scene, depending on what mood you are going for.

You’ve got this. 

~Penemue

Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it’s days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it’s best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it.

Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn’t sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn’t feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it’s own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion… He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn’t think of this place ever again.

The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn’t been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet.

Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he’s seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it’s lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV’s turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk.

“It’s such a nice place you have here.”
“We’ve been driving for hours so glad we found you.”
“You’re really cleaning this place up kid.”
“Our stay was wonderful.”
“I’m going to give you a good review on Yelp!”
“Thank you Norman Bates.”

It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother’s mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time.

“She can’t do this! She can’t leave me!”
“Norman let her go!”

Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn’t count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen.

Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn’t cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn’t been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That’s why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement.

The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman’s steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn’t touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table’s surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind.

Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it’s hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house.

“Norman please!”

“I don’t trust you anymore and that changes everything!”

“Stop it Norman.”

“The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person.”

Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno’s paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn’t shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day.

Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it’s good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan’s old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan…

“I’m a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You’re my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We’re a family and we love each other we’ll work through it.”

“Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!”
“Calm down! You have to!! She’s coming back!”
“She’s not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it’s all your fault!”

“Please, Norman.. Everything I’ve built with Mom, it’ll, it’ll all be destroyed.”

“You wouldn’t actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?”

Norman stood in the doorway of Mother’s room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero.

“I love you, Norman.”
“I love you too, Mother.”

“You mean more to me than anyone in the world.”

The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it’s way into his throat. “Hey..” Her voice was soft and comforting. “You’re a good boy, Norman.” She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman’s misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. “You’re everything. Everything to me Norman.” She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “There’s a cord between our hearts.” Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn’t form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. “It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS.” Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. “Now get the hell outta here.”

Norman’s eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn’t there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window.

“We came here to start over, I am starting over.”

“We’ve been through a lot and this is our chance to start over.”

Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn’t welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn’t your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it’s share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream.

“We own a motel, Norman Bates!”

A few tears fell from Norman’s eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn’t hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back.

The End..


Choromatsu’s ‘Rising’ into Episode 24

Being completely honest, I never understood what was meant by ‘Rising’ when it came to Choromatsu?

All throughout I wondered… is this a concept used in Japan, to mean something specific that doesn’t translate well into English? Does anybody even understand what it means? I saw a lot of people asking, ‘what is “Rising” about??’ but comparatively, saw very few answers to the question itself.

I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and the more I think about it, the more I… feel as though ‘Rising’ refers to Choromatsu’s self-awareness outgrowing that of his brothers’ to the point where he transcends their version of reality, and enters into the actual reality.

Real life, as it were, so, getting a job, finding a partner, marriage, etc…

If you look at the ‘world’ around the Matsunos, it’s brightly coloured, very centric around the Matsuno household in a typical soap opera-type style. We see all of the same places, all of the same faces, and things happen almost in a ‘routine’ way.

In the episode where the sextuplets present their ‘self-awareness’ orbs, I - and a lot of people - assumed they were reflective of their personality, of how they viewed themselves, relative to their self-esteem.

And I’m not about to say that is wrong… I just think there is another aspect to it that was kind of easy to miss until the events of episode 24 were revealed to us. More under the cut!

Keep reading

HELD - CHAPTER 10

// CATCH UP HERE // PLAYLIST // HARRYS INSTA // ERINS INSTA //

A/N - Oh my God, I updated!??! Less than a month after I posted the previous chapter!? It’s a miracle!

Thank you so much to everyone who sent me a lovely message about the last chapter, it was the most feedback I’ve ever had, and it really motivated me to write this chapter! I really hope you like it, and again I’d love to know what you think! My ask is open!

As always a special thank you to my gorgeous besties @islareeveswriting and @cuddlemusclestyles for all their help with this chapter, and general life advice. I love you both very, very much.

“Erin? What do you think of this one?” Harry called over to me.

It was a dreary Saturday afternoon, rain clouds had been hanging low, grey and threatening in the sky for hours, meaning Harry and I had continuously put off our shopping trip until we really couldn’t wait any longer. Even though we were supposed to be shopping for a present for Izzy’s birthday, we’d somehow ended up in the men’s section in Fenwick’s department store, and we had yet to buy anything for the upcoming birthday girl.

He was stood in front of a long mirror, twisting and turning each and every way trying to figure out whether the floral shirt he held in his hands would suit him or not. I stopped just behind him, looking at him in the mirror and smiling when his lips jutted into a pout, showing his conflicting thoughts.

“I like it.” I said confidently. “It suits you.” But then again, the boy could wear a potato sack and still look like he could grace the pages of Vogue.

Keep reading

Clashing of Blood and Wilds

AO3 http://archiveofourown.org/works/11465187/chapters/25705545

PT1 (Clashing of Bloods and Wilds) https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162841562811/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT5 (Lust) https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/163539095566/clashing-of-blood-and-wilds

PT6 (Why) 


The palest shade of blue hazed the darkness of night, Ivar had only dozed with the feeling of you in his arms and the floor at his back. It wasn’t sleeping but enough to make him still, make him calm. Despite all his longing you’d have to leave soon, you’d rolled onto your back in the hours between your hair spilling about you where it pleased. He didn’t get to see you properly in the darkness but in the rising hours he gulped hard at the sight of your body laid bare while he sat up carefully. His finger ran along your cheek then dove into your disheveled hair feeling the strands and easing the various knots as he went. The small tilt of your head and soft hum caused a grin to play at the edges of his mouth.

He wanted to wake you but couldn’t deny the burning in his blood over your naked body, rolling over you was easy as you still sleep addled mind subconsciously adjusted to the weight. Ivar was slow, cautious in nudging your thighs apart despite the sigh you hadn’t opened your eyes instead stretched lazily your back arching up off the ground, legs instinctively cradling his waist. Ivar grinned looking at the bruises dancing across your neck and collarbone where he’d marked you, looking at your hips where his fingerprints stained your flesh.

Ivar’s lips trailed the valley of your breast, light kisses to under your breast his fingers skimming beneath the other. He froze at the small snicker for a moment and looked up at the woman gazing down at him.

“Morning.” He whispered almost purring at the fingers now carding through his hair.

“Is it already?” Your voice sounded less desperate than you felt, “We have a little time don’t we? Although I don’t think you’re willing to do whatever you’re thinking.”

The grin against your stomach as he gently drew one of your legs over his shoulder, “Why is that blóm?”

“I’m dirty.” The words came out as a sigh while lips mouthed at the inside of your hips, the slow simmer that your body had woken to was quickly being stroked into a sharp flame.

A flat tongue drew across your abdomen making you jump with the chill that followed and softly groan, “You taste like salt and fucking and mine.”

He didn’t give you chance to protest as his fingers danced against your sex the motion making your hips jerk up and eyes close at the rush of want thrumming under your skin. His fingers were agonizingly slow, teasing against your clit watching you writhe under the stroking. It only took few moments until you were soaking with need and back to biting your lip in attempt to stop the whine of appreciation. You wanted to blame how easy it was to bring your body alight on how long you’d been from the thrill of orgasm but there wasn’t any denying on how wanton that he made you.

Ivar smirked at the whines you tried to hold back, his fingers slicking through the drag of your hot cunt as you rolled your hips up desperate for more. He felt you soaking with need and watching your struggling to keep yourself silent while his touch demanded the clench of your muscles around his fingers. You felt like screaming at the pressure settling in between your hips, something tightening in you like a knot, much to your frustration that the painstakingly slow pace was all he was willing to give.

“You’re doing so good, Y/N.” You gasped as you back arched up, nails dragging down the ground on either sides of your head for fear that if you tangled them in his hair the grip might actually hurt him or make him move from between your legs and you would kill him if he did.

“Ivar.” his name dripped from you lips, plea, prayer anything to get him to move faster.

You hands flew to your mouth and you bit down hard as he replaced his finger with his tongue, spearing into your wet heat, lapping down the mess between you thighs. The scream was muffled thankfully and you sent a silent prayer that the guards were changing or were wrapped up in something to ignore you. The blush on your cheeks worsened at the slurping sound when he pulled away, reveling in how your hips followed wanting more. Ivar was clever and a fast learner and it wasn’t a wonder to how he read your body in an instant and slipped two thick fingers into you heat. The consistent curl of the rough appendages forced your hips to buck to the movement in desperation for him to hit that spot.

The anguished cry of your rapture mournfully muffled as his mouth dragged back up your lush folds to fasten around your pearl, the crook of his motions poured you into a mess of pleas. The sob of his name spilled into the air that bore the fire swelling to a crescendo it burned away everything but the searing heat of his mouth and hands on you body. Ivar felt you writhed against him long legs simultaneously shaking and clamping tight around his head as the savory tang of your orgasm splashed against his tongue and coated his chin he moaned into the taste. Your teeth broke skin and blood lingered in your mouth as you slumped back against the floor from the nearly painful arch the rush had dragged you up into.

Ivar was lying with his head against your abdomen slowly nuzzling your thighs and stomach. Bringing a shaking hand to his face you gently threading your fingers through his hair, a sated smile on you lips. He couldn’t help the lewd motion of licking his lips the blush it caused on your face was too precious.

“A very good morning.” You hummed at Ivar’s growl playfully dragging his teeth and lips up your abdomen leaving a sticky trail of cum from his mouth that chilled across your skin in goosebumps.

Ivar only wiped it away when plush lips hovered over yours the taste not slacking the lustful moan that he devoured sweeping into your mouth, “I can’t believe you did that.” You gave a playful tug on some loose strands of hair.

“You taste like sun.” He brushed his nose against yours and you shuddered at the slight canter of his hips feeling the hot cock pressed against your lower lips still so sensitive.

“You feel like heaven.” He smirked at the way you termed the slide of his cock against you and despite the hiss of oversensitivity you still bucked up against him, “And one day I’ll get my mouth around you but I need you in me.”

Ivar would forever deny the whimper playing in the from his throat as you rolled him onto his back gently. The light that threatened the sky made you want to scream beyond frustration, you’d never liked having to go quick especially with something this toe curling good but daybreak wasn’t waiting on anyone despite how desperately you’d plea. The sharp ache of being left wanting was brutally flung away at the sudden fullness of him. You pitched forwards hands resting on either side of his head as the stark pace slammed you together. The drag of your clit along with the way his cock pressed insistently against your womb left you a shuddering mess of want already. You were desperately attempting to keep pace but your mind hazed at the snap of his hips below you.

The whine was loud and dangerous but you couldn’t find it in you to care, one large hand gripped your thigh the other wrapped delicately around your neck, the Viking was reveling in the moan as Ivar squeezed hard enough to silence and dizzy but not hurt. You trusted him not to hurt you, gave yourself to him and the pounding blood in your ears drowned out any panic you might have felt. The orgasm rushed up vibrant, desperate, impatient and consuming as the hands that had been resting on Ivar’s chest to use as balance turned lethal at the sharp nails digging into his skin. You’d be thankful of the hand on your throat to silence the wail that wanted to escape instead just left your tantalizing image above him.

Head tilted back, hand wrapped around your throat, with your back arched pressing your breast into the surprisingly chilling air making your rosy nipples budded, the flush of red that followed your orgasm. The clench of you around him tore the pleasure from his very soul as heat painted your insides, not helping the fact of your hips still gently rolling dragging out his rapture as long as you could before it all became too much. His hand left your throat and instead trailed absentmindedly down your chest, the stomach, then the swell of your hips where you still perched on him.

“Sunrise is soon.” The truth made you nod weakly, “You’re going to have to leave, pet.”

“Do you think we could convince the sun to stop?” He smiled at the thought before bringing you down to his lips.

The kisses you’d shared had always held an undertone of heat, and in the past night and the rising of the morning had been nothing but so searing that they could dry the ocean. Now? Now there was something sweet, slow, soft to the way his chapped lips pressed against yours. There was the danger. The risk of something more than desire coiling in your gut. He kept his forehead pressed to yours for a moment, his hands stroking your sides gently.

“You need to leave.” He needed you to leave on your own because there was only a thin, weak thread to keep him from driving back into you the second you would let him.

“I know.” You whisper was hoarse as you slowly moved from him not caring of the mess that was between your thighs instead reaching for your chemise and slipping it on before snatching up your overcoat.

It wasn’t easy leaving him, much more the room, the guards were on rotation to your luck and you crept back into your bed. You’d take a bath later, you were too exhausted for anything else but sleep. Before falling into the caress of blackness that was offered with sleep something occurred that he’d never actually taken his pants all the way off. You’d have to work on that. And then you fell into dreams.

Ivar twisted and twined on the ground for a moment pulling and lacing up the fabric of his pants far too thankful that you were both to enraptured with the other for you to care. It was one thing to see his legs clothed another to be bare and vulnerable under your touch and gaze. Sitting up made him hiss, the scratches and bite marks burning along with the scrapes of being ridden on a harsh floor. He felt drowsy, drugged almost and was understanding why his brothers paraded around with such smiles on their faces after bedding a slave girl, the aches in his body although sore felt good in a way he wasn’t used to. It was like a hard lesson with a new weapon but this felt better and for the moment no knives were involved.

He dragged himself lazily atop his not so lonely plank grabbing at the loose shirt, Y/N’s keeper -Maude- would bring a bath and he’d lay in it to ease the pain and warm him. Until he had to wake he was wonderfully content to let the break of dawn spill into the room, the men unknowing of the unbridled woman he’d had below him and on him. Nor the small grin as something foreign tightened in his stomach, possession he idly thought moments ahead of delving into dreams.

You’d expected to dream of the little girl and walking up the clouds on invisible ground, what you got was blood. The battlefield you were standing on had countless bodies in various states of death. Some twitched, some still clinging desperately to life and others were resigned to their fate of death waiting to be taken away.

Yet it was only the dead none was left of the army that spilled through the valley. Your weren’t in a dress, instead breeches and a shirt with the heavy weight of a quiver filled to brim with arrows on your side. The bow had been broken already, somewhere between using it as a shield and using the string to strangle someone. A large crow landed atop on of the bodies, the armor making it’s feet ‘tink’.

“Can you help me?” It cawed a harsh and sudden sound, “Where is everyone?”

“He can not help you if you can not speak to him.” A man was at your side robed in black with a large brimmed hat, he was terrifying though you can not see his face.

“I only meant -” He raised his hand and you sighed awaiting what he’d to say.

“When you have need of the words, need of his tongue then find me. I won’t be far.” The old man left and the crow leapt to your face startling you awake with a gasp.

The motion made you wince with your body tender from the treatment you’d dealt on it while the sound of splashing water into a tub filled your bedroom, “It’s rather late m’lady, and you werena in your bed last night. Shall I make a guess as to where you’d slipped out to?”

Maude. Of course. Because why not? Though half of you expected it, the fact that you’d been with Ivar last night would have been nice to be kept between you, him, and the painful floor -“You have eyes in walls and an ear in Hell.”- You accused as she ‘tsk’ed.

“I thought you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.” The old woman rubbed her temples at the protest that it was safe because he had protection of his own unlike Joseph, “I don’t approve, in the slightest let me get that thought aloud. Have you thought that maybe you might be caught? Worse punishments than a slap for bedding a man like him.”

“I didn’t get caught.” You growled easing yourself out of the bed and into the bath gently with her steady help, “I won’t get caught.”

“Says you. You need to think of these things m’lady, at least warn me next time so’s I can come up with a diversion or such.” Her voice droned while she rubbed lavender soap on your back delicately with it’s scratches.

“You’re not going to stop me?” The shock in your voice was evident as she chuckled slowly.

“I’ve a feeling it would take and act of God to keep you two separated ‘specially with his little charm dangling ‘round your neck.” She plucked at the leather cord while you fiddled with the hammer, “ Least I can do is keep you safe the best I knows how. Meaning you can’t see each other every night.”

“Is this what you did for my mother?” Maude didn’t say anything so you sank under the water to wet your hair, coming up she washed it gently, “I’m sorry.”

“ You’re curious bout her, it’s just…my heart is a little too old for a lot of talk of that wildling just yet.” You nodded as she continued to help make a tight schedule and plan for how you would be able to see Ivar as much as you wanted but not tonight which frustrated you but you ceded, Maude had the upper hand in experience so with her word you’d go.

“Y/N!” The excited shout of your sister pulled a startled yelp out of you as she burst open the door while you were reaching for the outstretched towel Maude had made ready for you.

“Judith! For the love of christ woman turn around!” She did as asked but not before being able to see the extent of Ivar’s bruises on your skin.

Your sister listened to your mutters and growls of irritation while you slipped on your dress, only turning around when you bid looking at you brush out your hair, “Well those are new.” you knew what she was talking about, “I just came to tell you Aethelwulf has sent for King Ecbert, he should be here in four days but apparently you have something more interesting.”

“It’s nothing.” You snarled at the smirking woman.

“The bite mark above your breast indicates otherwise. Tell me who was it, a soldier. I bet it was, you’ve always weakness for something forbidden.” Your eyes narrowed at her into deadly slits, “Oh stop it, I won’t tell a soul, now come on it’s almost midday already.”

Your sister whisked you away from a sympathetic looking Maude. The day seemed to drag, the sun mocking as it slowed it’s trek across the sky. Judith’s endless talking only received ‘hms’ and Alfred won his game of chess three times in a row. To most everyone you were seemingly docile with Aethelwulf no doubt crediting his ‘punishment’ as actual effectiveness. It was only when Maude had said you were to be given a message after dinner did you really ‘wake’ from the long slow movements and feeling of day.

It was hard to contain the excitement as you trekked down the halls, Maude in tow making small talk to disguise the real reason behind your thrilling joy. The moment the large door of your room closed you pounced upon her with rapid questions and a rising tone of elation made her smile.

“Your Viking is a rude thing.” You chuckled at her chiding, “But he is in agreement, looked rather upset not to see you tonight might I add? Just remember, it’s all well and good until feelings get involved. Make sure that you don’t get mixed up between lust and love alright dear?”

“I saw the first boy I lusted for beheaded, I know the difference.” Despite saying it didn’t mean you felt any better about the unfurling warmth in your chest mind falling easily to the Viking on his cold plank in a surprisingly warm room, “ I can see him tomorrow though can’t I?”

Maude cocked her hip and frowned as usual but nodded, “I don’t see why not but it’ll be late at night.”

Part of you wanted to say you’d crept into his room late already but decided to keep it to yourself as you were all to certain that she knew regardless. If the day had been creeping the night was going to be agony but it would go and you would finally be away from the sloth like hours.

Ivar had been staring at the room, counting the bricks, fiddling with his buckles, thrumming his fingers on the wooden plank below. It was only when Maude had walked in with large buckets of water and assistance with the tub did his sour mood lighten a little. The ritual went calmly, tub down, water fills tub, others leave except for Maude that turned to a raging inferno of motherly instinct and protection.

“How dare you even think to kiss Y/N much less bed her?!” She had almost screeched at the boy that suddenly felt three feet tall, “How could you ruin her like that!? You aren’t going to be the one who takes the whipping for this! There are worse things than her gettin slapped around there is!”

“She’s not a child, she knew what she was getting into. And any who dare lay hand on her will die. Simple as that.” He watched the old woman’s eyes turn dead and her jaw set, before he could move away from the silent rage that had stalked to him she snatched him up to look face to face with her.

“You can’t do anythin. You don’t have a weapon, you don’t have an army, you don’t have any standing here. The only reason Aethelwulf hasn’t tried to tear you apart is because he thinks you useless.” The snarl that rose in her throat was chilling as she dropped him back to the plank, “That girl is my life. I’ll not see her thrown to the wolves because of a reckless decision.”

“Didn’t exactly feel like a reckless decision on my half.” His grin was smug and she growled.

“Have care boy because I will kill you if you break her. Don’t play with m’lady’s heart, fuck her then make her leave. I’ll not have foolish emotion mixed into this death trap.” Maude’s face grew dark, her boney body seemed large and her anger roiled around her.

“Like it or not she’s already got a part of me, and I’ve gotten more than enough of her.” He pulled off his shirt and bluntly displayed the patchworks of scratches, bites, bruises, hickeys crossing every part they could get, “And this isn’t my back. You won’t stop me, damn well not going to stop her.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve done worse in my days, why no’ just find ways to keep you part? I could, easily.” Maude did have a point, if she wanted she could tear everything from the foundation up but the threat gave a look of killing intent to her eyes and Maude felt her soul clench at the realization of what had already happened.

She turned on heel not giving him time to speak but before reaching the door she paused, “She won’t be able to see you tonight but tomorrow.”

Why shouldn’t I? Ivar huffed at the question while crawling to the tub and stripping off the clothes, the water was warmer today as he carefully sank into it to his nose. Why shouldn’t she? Why did it bother him so much not to see Y/N tonight? Why so defensive of if she was ‘punished’? Why’d he given her the necklace so close to him, tell her that his Gods would protect her?

He tried to stop the raging that kept swirling in his head and forced the sensation of warmth the memory of her caused in his chest. That was a dangerous feeling he was daring. One that he’d find a pillow and bare down until it stopped kicking. He had to. Ivar risked many things. He didn’t want to risk the shred of his heart.
It didn’t matter that she was beautiful, it didn’t matter that she smiled and it rivaled the sun, it didn’t matter that when she laughed about a stupid joke he made, it didn’t matter that she saw him. It didn’t matter.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.” Ivar reached for his collarbone where the necklace would stay but stopped halfway having given the familiar piece of home with you, “Fuck.”

He dared the thought of that just past the pretty words…she mattered.

I JUST HAD A CONCEPT MOMENT

Okay, so what if, while Shirō had to work, instead of taking care of Shura he would leave her at Yuri’s place (what is it, an apothecary? A studio?) and Yuri took good of care of Shura like a mother.

As the days go on, however, Shura can’t help but notice that Yuri seems to be getting… bigger. She doesn’t question it, but for about a year this goes on. Then one day, she’s totally flat. Shura starts yelling to get Yuri’s attention-

“Hey, MS YURI. What happened to your stomach?”

“Ssssh, please be quiet, Shura.”

“I asked you a question!”

“Shura, please be quiet my babies are sleeping.”

“Babies?”

The whole pregnancy spiel sex talk whatever moment later and Yuri offers to let Shura see her sleeping children. Yuri opens the door and Shura sees a pair of wooden cribs. Yuri carries Shura inside, over the cribs to look in each one.

“The one with the blue flames is Rin,” Yuri says, then carries Shura over to the next crib. “And the fair skinned one is Yukio. He has my moles.”

The second Shura goes home, she’s ecstatic to tell Shirō about the twins! But she didn’t know any better that Shirō wasn’t supposed to know and that’s how the twins got found out in the first place?

Now, Shura had always been jealous of the twins. They had a proper mother and a good place to sleep and food, while Shura had been raised by Hachirotaro until a certain age. So when she sees that Shirō has adopted the twins, she gets hurt. But for some odd reason she cannot, for the life of her, remember why Rin was so special.

She feels some kind of jealousy when Shirō asks Shura to teach Rin how to use a demon slaying blade. What was it about these twins that made them have it easy? Why did she get thrown in the trash bin?

Why did Shirō care about them and not her?

And soon she realizes why, when Amaimon shoots a blazing ball of blue fire out of the sky and threatens to kill him. When Rin screams that ‘ONE DAY IM GONNA BE THE PALADIN!’

Shura oddly enough believed that the impossible could be done. She’s seen these twins do it before. So… she takes them under her wing like an older sister/mother. Because now she understands why Yuri and Shirō gave their lives to protect these twins. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t the next to go for them.

Only You pt. 1

Characters: Jimin x reader (ft maknae line)

Warnings: Mentions of blood/death, angst, fluff & smut 

Word count: 6,503

A/N: Hello again! I’m back with another fanfic for you! This is the first part out of two; it’s in first person, your name is Hana, and everything italicized is a memory. Please let me know what you think!


Originally posted by cherryblossoms-and-cupcakes

Everything was gray, or at least, everything appeared darker than it should have been. Somehow, even the brightest of colors came off mute and dissatisfied, and the darkest colors only seemed to get darker. Everything was just…gray.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw something for what it really was, or saw the world as something beautiful. I’d lived too long to appreciate anything for what it was. Until I saw you. Only you could make me see the light in this dark world. Only you could breathe life back into the helplessness I’d become. As pathetic as it sounds, I’d only come to live for you. But it’d been too long since I was able to see you, meaning, life could only drone on at a monotonous pace, growing duller the longer you slipped through my fingertips. I was empty, completely and utterly empty without you.

Keep reading

i was sitting there blowing out dandelion
seeds while the sky was threatening storms,
and i realized how brave it was. to continue
wishing for sunlight when i’ve been denied
it for so long. this year has been one grey
cloud after another and i’ve always been
left standing in the eye of the storm. me,
the girl who is turning herself pink, writing
of spring, and trying to learn to be the calm
instead of the clatter. it’s all been about
learning how to smile at an empty sky and
stop taking the abyss so personally. learning
that when i bleed out it isn’t pretty, but when
i spill words, it is. there’s a fine line between
being empty and starting to fill yourself back
up. i am a gentle creature by nature and this
means i attract predators more often than
allies. i’ve had to learn how to sharpen my
teeth into something that can do damage
and that’s why for weeks at a time my words
come out jagged and painful. this is not the
person i want to be, it’s more of a defense
mechanism. but this is still better than who
i was last year: scared to blow out the
dandelion seeds because i couldn’t stand
to lose anything else.
—  The Bravest Thing I Ever Did Was Run, Angelea Lowes
4

With a smile you picked up the intricate paper plan that only Raphael would have thrown into your window. When you opened it you found the usual invitation to sneak into Hotel Dumort later that evening.


Once you’d completed your mission you headed out to the Hotel, your heart beating hard in your chest as you thought about seeing Raphael again. You made your way through the hotel to the usual meeting place only to find it pitch black.


“You know I always wondered what Raphael saw in the little warriors he collected… but I suppose I can see your charm.” The cold icy voice of Camille.


Before you could do anything you were being gripped by the neck, the vampire laughing as you slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

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