tree hill is that place for me :')

I’ve had tumblr for awhile but never got in to using it. But I’m going to try!!
If you are a fan of these things we should be pals!:
•reading/books
•TAYLOR SWIFT
•Brooklyn 99
•Gilmore Girls
•Gossip Girl
And more teen dramas I’m very basic
I’m an aspiring writer who has major anxiety 💁🏻

secret | jughead jones x reader

request

written by: gaby

edited by: rosie

prompt: 100- “no one needs to know”

chapter song: drugs & candy / all time low

“jughead, are you sure we shouldn’t tell the others?” y/n wondered, wrapping her arms around his neck gently.

he put a finger over her lips, “no one needs to know.”

he moved closer to her and placed his arms around her waist.

she sighs in pure satisfaction with the moment. the wind blows, making the trees around them wave.

they had planned an outing for their 1st year anniversary but wanted it really simple so they went out to a little hill.

“i can’t believe your part of the serpents,” she looks out at the starry sky, “that’s so cool.”

he hums in response, “will you miss me?”

she pretend to thinks for a second, placing her index and thumb on her chin, “probably not.”

“i am deeply offended, how dare you!” jughead exclaims, putting on a false offended expression.

she laughs it off and moves closer to him to nuzzle her head into his neck.

“it means we won’t be able to see each other as much.” y/n sadly chuckles, swaying to ‘drugs & candy’.

“hey, look at me,” she obeys him, “we’re going to meet no matter what, okay?”

she nods continuing to look at the amazing view.

“are you doubting me?” jughead whispered in her ear.

“i’m not,” she looks up at the stars to stop her tears from falling down, “i’ll just miss you.”

“i told you you’ll miss me.” he jokingly states, “let’s just spend today with no problem.”

the couple stood there under the stars, enjoying each others’ company.

with y/n humming to the tune of the music playing, jug starts teasing her.

“y/n, did you know you have a really pretty voice?” he smirks, pressing his forehead against her’s.

she mumbles a ‘shut up’ and an ‘i hate you’ whilst blushing, looking down at the grassy ground.

“last time i checked, you love me.” he sings, cupping her face.

he pecks her lips and y/n pulls away, putting an imitation of a disgusted expression.

“ew, cooties!” she exclaims, trying her hardest not to laugh.

“what are you? in the second grade?” he laughs, pushing her face away.

“last time i checked, i was human thank you very much.” she states, mocking him and taking a seat on the ground.

he lays down beside her, placing his hands on his stomach as he closes his eyes.

she takes this as a chance to grab his crown-shaped beanie.

he snaps his eyes open, reaching for his beanie from behind y/n’s back.

“give it back.” he begs, throwing his head back.

she completely ignores and sniffs the beloved hat of mr. jughead jones, “gosh, do you even shower?”

“first of all, rude and second, give me!” he whines, trying to snatch it from her hands.

she stretches her hands over her head, making the beanie higher than jughead’s slouching figure.

he reaches out to grab it but y/n leans back due to jughead’s heavier built leaning onto her, making them fall on each other.

“don’t suffocate me!” y/n complains, pushing his back off of her.

“give back the beanie, y/l/n.” jughead says, trying to negotiate.

she groans in defeat and throws it on his lap, “let me breathe please.”

he gets up, bending to get his hat.

jug offers his hand for y/n to get up, meaning it was time to go.

“already?” y/n pouts, accepting his hand.

“sorry, it’s already 1 and archie’s probably worried.” he explains, putting an arm over her shoulders.

they stand for one last moment, sharing their last kiss of the day.

“i love you, jug.”

“i love you too, y/n. so much.”

tag list: @hauntedcherryblossombanana-blog @sadbreakfastclb @jugandbettsdetectiveagency @hiimalyssawriter @kindfloweroflove @fragilefrances @mydelightfulcollectiontyphoon @onceuponagladerhead @natalieroseg @mhysaofdrxgons

Take care of him

Nico was ready to kill a man.

Fatigue gnawed at his bones and the pull of irritation was hard to ignore. This morning, he was tasked to teach the younger campers sword fighting, trying to keep his temper when kids gave him cheek and questioned his teachings.

Nico wondered how much trouble he would get in for summoning skeletons and scaring the kid.

Will had asked him to help in the infirmary, running around and fetching bandages. Almost as soon as he said goodbye to Will and left the infirmary, he got into a fight with some stronzo who taunted him, making his blood boil. He was at the end of his tether, all the other campers knew it and left him alone. Nico couldn’t go to his cabin, to fume in the comfortable silent darkness because Hazel was there, visiting with Frank and Reyna.

Nico just wanted to be alone. After stalking towards the training arena, he was now taking his anger and stress of the turbulent morning out on a training dummy.

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and he froze, his swinging sword slowing and falling flat. Sweat dripped down his face, staining his shirt. Panting like a dog and adrenalin pumping through his veins, electric and thick, as he prepared himself for a fair-dinkum fight.  The hand on his shoulder didn’t move, so Nico grabbed it and twisted it, spinning around and placing his thumbs in the middle of the palm and pushed. Looking up through his hair, he saw who it was and hastily drooped their hand, taking a few steps back with his arms up.

Keep reading

8

Going to the Salem Witch Trials Memorial is something I will never forget.  

In my younger years as a witch, I never really wanted to see that part of Salem–Honestly, I am not sure if it is because I just wasn’t interested as a young practitioner or I didn’t quite grasp the weight that the Salem Witch Trials and mass hysteria had on our world.  Only as I have gotten older have I become more and more passionate about the historical events aligned with witchcraft.

In 1692, nearly two hundred people in the Salem area were accused of witchcraft, then considered a crime.  This episode is one of Colonial America’s most notorious cases of mass hysteria. It has been used in political rhetoric and popular literature as a vivid cautionary tale about the dangers of isolationism, religious extremism, false accusations, and lapses in due process.  Twenty of the accused were tried and executed–victims of fear, superstition, and a court system that failed to protect them.  

The abuses of the Salem witch trials contributed to changes in U.S. court procedures, playing a role in the advent of the guarantee of the right to legal representation, the right to cross-examine one’s accuser, and the presumption of innocence rather than of guilt.  A memorial was created to honor the memory of these twenty victims and to remind us of the enduring lessons of human rights learned from the tragedy of the witch trials.  The memorial was designed by architect Jim Cutler and artist Maggie Smith, and was dedicated in 1992 by Elie Wiesel.

“The Salem Witch Trials Tercentenary Memorial attempts to give form to concepts of injustice…The designers approached the idea of injustice through four words: Silence, Deafness, Persecution and Memory. To represent silence, they graded and organized the site to emphasize the surrounding tombstones as mute watchers looking into the memorial. For deafness, they inscribed the historical protests of innocence on the entry threshold and had them slide under the stone wall in mid-sentence. For persecution, they planted black locust trees, from which the accused believed to have been hanged. For memory, they inscribed the names, dates, and manners of death on stone slabs, which were then cantilevered from the stone wall as benches.”

When we first got into Salem and stood outside the Witch House, the architecture struck me as odd and the color choice was so stark in contrast to the lively summer green of plant life in the front garden.  My friends and I took the usual tourist-y pictures and then began crossing the road to walk to our next destination.  That’s when I heard it: my name, whispered up against my right ear.  I stopped in the middle of the street, thinking it had been my friend’s husband.  I spun on my heels only to find him hand-in-hand with her, just to the left of where I had been crossing.  I asked, “Did you hear that?”  He shook his head and kept walking.

Something kept tugging at my insides.  The more historical sites we came across, the more insistent this feeling became.  The whole city hummed with it, this magic–both kitschy and real–and that warm energy propelled us visitors further and further in.  It wasn’t until we drove up a very unassuming alleyway that I realized where the epicenter of this powerful pull brought us.  There, at the top of a small incline, was the Salem Witch Trials Memorial.

There is a stillness to the air when you stand before it and just beyond its entrance are towering, ancient trees; sentinels protecting the names of those who died without justice.  There are inscriptions on the ground at your feet and they read of the last words uttered by the accused witches of Salem.  One in particular caught my attention:

I am wholly innocent of such wickedness…

Twenty benches protrude from stone walls, suspended and slowly being weathered by the elements.  Names are carved into them; the description of their execution marr the faces of stone and the date of their deaths resonate from the masonry.  People walk in silence, quietly reading and leaving flowers for those that died during the witch hunt.  It is a place of very heavy spiritual energy–whether or not it comes from the living who visit or the departed resting in the nearby cemetery is to be determined.  The short amount of time I spent there can only be described as surreal.  

The first few names I came across were the last ones to be executed before logic and law intervened.  These victims died on my birthday, September 22nd.  The very thought caused me to shudder, but still I moved forward and observed a moment for each person at their bench.  Around I walked, counting down from twenty to one, and there before me was the memorial to the unusual and outspoken Bridget Bishop.  The red flowers at this small monument were fitting of her, as I had read previously that she often was seen wearing a crimson cloak about town.  People had misjudged her; she died because she was different.  

The truth of the matter is this: none of these men and women were witches and yet they died because people feared what I am lucky enough to practice today.  And that bothered me.  It still does.  It stuck with me the entire way home as we road-tripped sixteen more hours.  I dreamed of the memorial, of Salem and its daunting trees and the fading headstones at the top of that hill.  On Monday, when I returned to work, I began researching and I came across something that just absolutely stunned me: Bridget Bishop died on June 10th, 1692.  I stood in front of her memorial on June 10th, 2017.  The weekend we visited–down to the day–was the anniversary of the first execution of the Salem Witch Trials that took place 325 years ago.

Fate and coincidence are two things that I struggle with on a day-to-day basis, but like my experience so many years ago at the ocean, I cannot help but feel that I was in the right place, at the right time.  I am just not quite sure what I am supposed to take away from this yet.  Am I supposed to research and write about it?  Am I supposed to share the stories of these victims?  Is this more of a reaffirmation that the rights I fight for are valid and important?  Is it that I just needed to see it on that day?  Or perhaps it was something so very simple: that I was called so that I could learn to evoke the spirit and strength of those people who chose to die rather than compromise their personal truths.

Love Me Louder [VxREADER]

 V request completed for @nekomas-heart

Mystic Messenger V route aftermath if he survived and began a relationship with MC.

     Nothing really prepares us for the paths fate has laid out. You could try and fight destiny, but it was a losing battle. In your younger years you’d never given any of this much thought. Why would you? Your life had been relatively easy. School, work, chatty family dinners, meeting friends for lunch, none of this lent much room to existential thoughts. But the person you were now was vastly different. As you sat in this trim and tidy apartment looking over old photos, you let the thoughts cloak over you like a security blanket. It was comforting to relinquish control to fate. If fate called all the shots, it would be pointless to hold on to anger over all of the fucked up shit that happens in this world. There would be nothing you could do to prevent it. There was no skirting around the obvious, your boyfriend was visually impaired. This warm, loving, creative man-was blind. And damn it, you needed to believe it was for a reason.

Keep reading

Jungkook Imagine (Angst)

Title: Clearing Conffesions

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jungkook

Request: Can you write an imagine where you’re in love with Jungkook and he is your best friend but then he asks you to set him up with your coworker right when you’re about to confess so you lash out at him and he’s completely confused. Can it have a fluffy ending with him telling you he just wanted to date so he could get over you.

____________________________

Y/N POV

I walk over to the bench at the clearing over the hill; our spot. It’s been Jungkook’s and I’s meeting place since we were kids. We used to have picnics on the small patch of grass behind the mess of trees that concealed us, making us feel like we were in our own world.

I grip the piece of paper I hold in my hand tightly. I didn’t sleep a wink last night as I was writing it. My love letter.

I’ve loved my best friend Jeon Jungkook for the last seven years. I don’t even remember when I started developing feelings for him. It might have been when he stood up to a teacher for me in the sixth grade, or when he hugged me after I ran out of class crying about an embarrassing presentation. Neither of those memories would be memorable in a positive way had Jungkook not been there. He’s always been a kind and caring friend. He’s smart and funny and understanding and I’m not going to lie, super stubborn at times but I love that about him. I love that you really have to convince him to change his mind. Sometimes it’s upsetting to see him so defensive but when he begins to given in, he has this cute pout that I can never get over. I love his smile and his laugh and the way he says my name when he’s really tired or really excited. I just love him.

I decided yesterday that I didn’t want him to not know how I felt. I’ve shared every secret that I’ve ever had with him. Every single one except this one. I want him to know how much he means to me, even if he doesn’t feel the same way.

I was about to text him this morning to meet up but he ended up texting me first, saying that he needed to talk.

I start to feel nervous as I approach the clearing. I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship. I can’t lose him.

I stop for a second and breathe in and out. I open up my letter and read the first line. “Jeon Jungkook you are an absolute dork….. and I love you.”

I keep walking. I enter the clearing to see Jungkook sitting on our bench, his attention on his phone. Probably playing Crossy Road since I broke his high score. Did I mention he’s very competitive?

“Hey,” I say, sitting next to him.

“Hey,” he says lightly, not looking up from his phone. “One sec, I’m about to demolish your high score.”

I look over his shoulder. He’s approaching my score. I fight the urge to jerk into him and disrupt his focus.

He’s about to beat my score when he gets hit by an oncoming train.

“No!” He screams and I burst into a fit of laughter.

Jungkook just stares at me, trying to look upset but I can tell he really isn’t because he’s fighting a smile.

I lean in close and look him in the eye. “So tell me Kookie, how does it feel to lose I mean I wouldn’t know ‘cuz I always win.”

“Yeah, yeah” he says brushing me off, feigning irritation.

“I’ll beat you next time.”

He looks over at my hand and sees the letter.

“What’s that?”

I immediately feel my cheeks burn up and pull away.

“Umm.I-it’s umm..”

C'mon I practiced this!

“What did you want to tell me?” I ask, changing the subject.

Jungkook turns to face me and leans on the opposite side of the bench.

“Jimin wants me to go on a double date with him next week and I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to ask out Lisa. Your friends with her; could you set it up for me?”

I feel my heart clench in my chest.

“Lisa?” I try to keep my voice leveled.

“Yeah. I know you guys work together so I was hoping you could chat me up or at least tell her I like her.”

He likes her. Lisa is absolutely beautiful. She has the perfect body and has that perfect soundboard laugh whereas I am average weight and I laugh like a hyena. Of course he likes her. It makes sense. It hurts but to be honest Jungkook would be with someone like her.

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay what’s wrong.”

I look down at hands trying to keep myself from crying and then I notice the letter in my lap. A furious fire builds up replacing the flood of sadness in my chest.

“Lisa wouldn’t be interested in you.” I say coldly.

Jungkook looks taken aback. I never really act like this with him.

“Why not?” He asks defensively,

“Because you’re you!” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as if I am pointing out the obvious. He looks hurt but I go on.

“Why would she go on a date with you. Lisa is basically perfect and you, you’re late for school every morning. You’re always on your phone playing stupid games. You snore in your sleep but not the weird gross obnoxious snore it’s more like heavy breathing with small snores every few minutes. And you are always doodling anime and sometimes you doodle on my arm and tell me that you want to see it on me the next day so I have to make sure I don’t scrub it off in the shower and you don’t even know how difficult that is but sometimes I don’t even care because I want to keep them too. You love to spoil shows. It’s like you don’t even mean to but you’re just so excited it comes out. And you are always taking other people’s sides when I talk about how terrible they are because you are just so kind you can never see someone as completely at fault. You- you, you are so completely oblivious to how I feel about you!. I love you!”

Jungkook’s mouth hangs agar.

"Y/n..” he breathes. “I-”

But I don’t let him finish. I’m already up, my letter tumbling to the ground.

Tears brim in my eyes but I look away so he doesn’t see me cry.

“No, you know what? I don’t think you’re oblivious. You just don’t feel the same way.”

I race out of the clearing as fast as I can. Away from Jungkook. Away from my best friend. Away from my first love.

___

A/N

Hey there!

Hope you like my first imagine. Let me know if you have any requests or want a part 2 or any other comments!

Thanks for reading ;)

~Armygirl

“It knocked the breath from him.
The desert.
It was a barren, hissing sea of golden sand. Hills and waves and ravines, rippling on forever, empty and yet humming. Not a tree or bush or gleam of water to be seen.
The unforgiving hand of a god had shaped this place. Still blew his breath across it, shifting the dunes grain by grain.
He had never seen such a sight. Such a wonder. It was a new world entirely.
Perhaps it was an unexpected boon that the information they sought dwelled out here. 
Chaol dragged his attention to Yrene, who was reading his face. His reaction.
“It’s beauty is not for everyone,” she said. “But it sings to me, somehow.”“
- Sarah J. Maas, Tower of Dawn

Ivar the Boneless (2)

Originally posted by ivartheheathen

Title: SnapShots
Character: Ivar the Boneless
Summary: Snapshots of your rise to power.
Word Count: 1.688


.You were young and curious.

You were only a child, no older than four summers when you had seen it. Ivar, the young Prince of Ragnar, had slayed a child. You remember your mother pulling you close as the crowd parted around the scene and screamed.

Having watched the whole thing, you remember thinking to yourself how the little boy had deserved to be punished for picking on the young Prince. Of course, the punishment was harsh- much too harsh- at least some action had been took.

Later the next day, you were the only child willing to be close to Ivar. You had even allowed him to play with your wooden sword.


.You were twelve summers and confused.

Ivar had grown into a handsome young boy. The girls always looking passed him in favor of his more able brothers. Personally, you preferred the youngest.

While the Gods had forsaken his legs, they had been generous when it came to gifting Ivar with intelligence. Even as young as he was, he was as sharp as newly made blade and as quick-witted as a whip. And you were fortunate enough to be there to see it.

It was true that he hardly had any friends, his own brothers going off on adventures without him. So you two made your own adventures.

“Can you pull any faster?” Ivar growled from behind you as you slowly pulled him up the hill.

“Ivar,” you snapped, grunting as you pulled his wagon over a rock. “You are not helping at all. If you’d get out and dragged yourself up instead of resting in the wagon this would be much quicker.”

Ivar smirked, leaning backwards.  “Oh, sweet child, but then I would have to actually do something. I’m a Prince, such work is beneath me.”

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic humor, focusing back on the task at hand. You knew it would be worth all the work once you gotten to the top of the hill. He’d smile wide as you joined him in the large wagon, his arm- strong from dragging him everywhere- would wrap tight around your waist as he used his other to push off. He’d retract his arm and pull you so tight you’d swear you could feel his heart beating against your back as the wagon picked up speed.

You never did realize why his heart would beat so quickly or why yours sped up just being close to the Prince.


.You were fifteen summers and angry.

As Ivar gotten older, his interest shifted from flying down hills to women. When the rumors of his impotency spread through the village, it took everything in you not to deck the slave girl who caused them. The second you heard it, you quickly searched for your childhood friend.

You weren’t surprised to find him alone, spinning an axe in his hand before he buried it into a tree across the clearing.

“Ivar,” you called, sighing as he stiffened before picked up another axe and releasing it quicker than the last.

“I was wondering when you’d come to find me,” he muttered, not even looking at you.

You walked up to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Of course, that was the wrong thing to say to Ivar in that moment.

“Is that pity I hear?” He hissed, his eyes finally flashing to you as he slapped your hand away. They were dark, a storm of anger to cover the hurt he felt. “Did you come here to comfort the poor cripple?

“Ivar!” You gasped, your own anger firing up.

“Well it’s the truth!” He yelled.

You knew he had more to say, his eyes blazing and his jaw clenched. In a fit of anger, you had thrown yourself at Ivar. Surprised, Ivar wasn’t able to prepare himself and you both tumbled to the ground. Pulling your hand back into a fist, you were completely prepared to deliver a hard punch to his gorgeous face- consequences be damned.

Your fist was caught in a much rougher and larger hand, Ivar having recovered from the shock and reacted. You both stayed frozen, watching one another before you broke his gaze and looked to the sky.

Biting your lip, you held back tears.

“How could you think that?” Your voice cracked. “After everything we’ve been through, you still group me with everyone else?”

The question wasn’t meant to be answered but Ivar answered anyways. “I don’t.”

“You do though!” You met his gaze again, your voice rising. “Why else would you say something like that? I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I just wanted- “

You were suddenly pulled down, your lips smacking roughly against Ivar’s. It wasn’t a romantic kiss or a like the first kiss stories you’ve heard. No, this was sloppy and inexperienced. Your teeth clanked against each other’s as you tilted your heads to find the right angle, his tongue rubbing hesitantly against yours.

Pulling back, Ivar rested his forehead against yours, his blue eyes gazing deep into your own. “Thank you, Y/N, for caring.”

“Always,” you whispered back to him, your cheeks a flaming red.


.You were reaching your twentieth summer when the world erupted.

You were a Viking and you’d act like it. It was the phrase you used when you rushed into battle beside Ivar. Upon horseback, your horse sprinted next to his chariot as you sliced your way through the charging Saxons. It wasn’t your first battle and hopefully it wouldn’t be your last.

Ivar had grown, your relationship stronger than ever but his need for power even stronger. Despite that, you knew you’d follow him anywhere. Whatever battle he had faced, you’d face it together. It was chaotic as men fell around you, Ivar’s chariot cutting through the masses faster than your own horse. Soon, you were too far away to reach him.

It would only be fitting for you to die staring at the back of your Prince.

An arrow had hit your shoulder, knocking you off the horse and into the grappling men below you. You grunted when you hit the ground and managed to roll to your feet. With a groan, you bent the tip of the arrow and snapped it right off. You could only duck and kick out your leg as a Saxon warrior swung at your head, having lost your axe and shield when you fell. With a shaking hand, you managed to grab a sword from a faceless body. Using your whole bodyweight, you surged forward with the sword and ran the warrior right through, his face one of shock before he fell.

But there was too many, your arms soon growing tired and your mind dizzy from the loss of blood. You managed to take one more down before falling to your knees and falling back. You smiled at the blue sky, the sound of battle growing faint.


You woke to light tapping against your face. It took you a while to realize it was rain and another to remember where you were. You still felt weak but thankfully the cold rain had numbed your body to the point where you didn’t feel your wounds as bad as you should have.

After a while of lying there, you began to hear your name being called. It was barely audible at first, so faint that you were sure it was your imagination. But soon, it grew louder, an anguished scream.

Ivar.

You were almost positive that it was Ivar’s cries. You could hear murmurs of people- his brothers’ perhaps- trying to comfort him, telling him that you were gone. Grunting, you ignored the pain and the feeling of needles stabbing you in your limbs and tried to rise. Ivar needed you.

“Ivar,” you tried to scream back, your throat too sore to make much of a sound. It was like no matter how hard you tried, your body just wouldn’t move.

The voices grew louder and you were sure it was Ivar. He was screaming for you, his voice husky from searching. You could hear countless footsteps as well as the creaking of his chariot. Soon, a face came into view, one you recognized as his older brother Ubba.

His blue eyes widened as they met your own, you somehow managed a small smile.

“About time you found me,” you tried to say, it coming out no more than a whisper.

“I’ve got her!” Ubba shouted, his eyes watering slightly as he lifted you from the ground. You groaned, every wound suddenly making itself known. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Hooves thundered across the battlefield, the sound of snapping reigns and a rough ‘yah!’ could be heard as Ivar spurred his horse on to go faster.

“Give her to me,” Ivar demanded as soon as he was close enough.

“You must be careful, Ivar,” Ubba warned, carefully transferring you over to Ivar so that you were cradled between him and the reigns. “She is badly hurt.”

“Of course I’m going to be careful you idiot!” Ivar hissed, his eyes flashing in anger. “What do you take me for, huh?”

But, whatever anger he had before was forgotten as he looked at you. His hand was shaking as he carefully moved your blood-crusted hair from your face.

“Hello,” you smiled, your voice coming out a tad bit clearer than before.

“Hush,” he hissed, biting his lip as he took in your injuries. His eyes growing darker the more he saw. “You must save your strength. You will be avenged, my love. Not even their Saxon god can help them now. They will regret touching you.”

“Together.” You whispered, your hand cupping his cheek. “We will avenge together.”

He shook his head, his lips pulling up in a snarl at the thought of you in battle. He pressed a rough kiss against your forehead and squeezed you close to his chest.

“They will all crumble at my feet and we will rule together,” Ivar hissed. “This I promise you.”

.You were in your twenty-fifth summer and you were a Queen.  

I’m back from Murica! Had an amazing time, our van which we’ve dubbed The Blue Ruin, only broke down twice and I had an excellent time goofing around with Matt and all our lovely friends we were able to visit along the way. Matt is still getting his rolls of film developed but he snapped this one of me at awe inspiring Monument Valley on one of the only days during summer where it rains in the desert. The storm created a moody and almost eerie atmosphere in the valley. (If you look closely you can see the road and cars ahead of me for scale.) America’s national parks really are incredible places, ran by amazing and dedicated staff. We were lucky enough to hit Yellowstone, Arches, Monument Valley, Yosemite, Zion (my favourite), Olympic, Mesa Verde, Mojave, Painted Hills, Craters Of The Moon, Joshua Tree and even explore an unfinished nuclear power plant that was abandoned after the company went $30 billion over budget in the 80s. Whaaaaaat.

One of the highlights of the trip had to be finally visiting the famous Madonna Inn. We couldn’t stay the night as it was booked out, but we did share a meal at their mindf*ck of a restaurant. It was beautiful, crazy and a sensory overload. I can confidently say it was the fanciest meal I’ve ever had while simultaneously being the most dirty I’ve ever been (Showers were few and far between as were laundromats haha) We even got up to have a little dance to the full swing band, surrounded by gorgeously dressed couples in their best attire and us in our dirty jeans and ripped tshirts- it was a hoot.

Although I’m really missing being out on the road (After 5 weeks of living in our van and camping, it’s quite the adjustment!) I’m excited to get back into creative work. I’m moving house and should be able to finally rent myself some studio space. This is something I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do but never been able to afford. *Excitement*

After working our asses off all summer and hustling hard to raise funds for the van and our trip, it was worth every cent. If you’re thinking about heading out in a van and would like some tips or have any questions, I’d be happy to share what I can! But you should absolutely do it if you have the opportunity. x

Open Your Eyes - Stiles (part 2)

Stiles x Reader 

(Y/N) is the new student at Beacon Hills High School and she has a secret. Being born blind, she was never able to see a thing, until she was attacked by a wild animal. To this day she has never told anyone about it. So will she do it now?

Word count: 2593 

(A/N) 
I wanted to finish and post this way sooner, but school was literally killing me, so I had no time what so ever. Hope you enjoy this xxx

Other parts: part 1  - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 

Originally posted by beautifullxlover

The drive home was quiet. My mom barely spoke and I just stared in front of me. This was another thing about being blind: you don’t have a phone. Because, how would you use it, if you’re not able to see the screen. That also meant that I had zero contact with any of my friends…not that I had many to start with.

“So,” my mom finally spoke up after five minutes, “who was that girl I saw you talking to?”

“Her name is Kira. I have some classes with her,” I explained. “So you made some friends today?”

“Yeah. I guess so,” I sighed. Mom didn’t say anything after that. She was always like that. Trying to make a conversation, but at the end of the day, we both knew she was only doing it because she feels bad for me. She thinks that if she forces herself to talk to me everyday, we would maybe someday start to bond. Like a normal mother and daughter. But I don’t think so.

I do not like my parents.

We arrived at our house and I stepped out and started walking to the door with my cane stretched out in front. Tick Tick Tick, on the stone path. I could finally stop with the ticking a few feet away from the door. My mom got her keys out and started searching for the right one. It took her some time until she got it, but when she finally did, she fortunately opened the door very quickly.

“Your father will be coming home a bit later.” she said before she sat down.

“Where is he? I thought he wouldn’t start working until his knee got better.” I asked.

Before we moved to Beacon Hills, my dad got into a small accidence and injured his knee. So he had to take some time off for rehabilitation. In that time, the police station of the city we previously lived in, had some problems and had to cut some people off and xhose my father will be one of those people. Fortunately, they realised it was cruel to do that to an injured man, so they gave him a job in a different city. In the end, it turned out for the better, because the paychecks are better here (as I heard from my parents) and it will finally be permanent. Before this he was kind of someone police stations send around to each other if they needed more officers.

“That is right. But he already went to the station today to meet the sheriff.”

“Oh, that is..nice.” I said and walked to my room. I lay face down on my bed when my mom suddenly walked in.

“I forgot to mention,” she smiled fakely, “the sheriff invited us for dinner. I understand if-”

“No, I’ll go.”

“Great. I actually bought you a new dress this morning. We wanna make a good impression now, don’t we?”

“Yes we do, mom.” My mom put the dress on the chair next to the door and walked away without another word. I walked to the door and closed it. The dress was nice. It was black with some lace on the skirt. Once I would put it on, it would probably reach my knee or something.

I put the dress on and not soon after I heard the front door open. My dad came home. I walked to the living room to say hello.

“How was your first day at school,” he asked after I said hi. “It was okay,” I shrugged, “I met some people. They seem nice.”

“Well, that is great.”

“Yeah, and they are all very helpful,” I smiled, thinking about Stiles. There he was again, in my head. What is it about him that I liked so much?

My dad tried to keep the conversation going, but just like my mom in the car, he failed miserably.

“Oh look at the time, I think it will be better if we go.” My dad handed me my jacket and my cane that was on the table. I thanked him and we were off. Just like before, this car ride was uncomfortable too. I don’t know how my parents to it, but they can make every situation awkward. I absolutely hate it.

It would probably be less if I wasn’t blind. I am very well known with the fact that my parents hate it that I am… different. It is a torture for them to see me struggle with my disability every day. That was why I doubted a bit about telling them that I had gotten my sight back.  Ut how could I possibly explain that?

“Here we are,” my father said as he pulled into the sheriff’s driveway. There already stood two cars. A normal grey car (I could see the attachable siren in the backseat) and a blue jeep next to it. Especially the jeep looked familiar. I must have seen it somewhere before.

“(Y/N), don’t just stand there, c’mon.” my mom tugged on my sleeve and pulled my to walk on. We got to the door and she rang the doorbell. Not even a few seconds later, we heard a loud bang inside and someone mumbling that “they were fine.” I had to giggle slightly, until the door opened and I saw him: Stiles.

“Welcome to our humble home,” he welcomed us and motioned us to walk inside. Only when I stepped inside he realised who I was.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I didn’t know I was coming to you either.” I smiled. He took my and my parents’ jackets and jung them up on the rack. Then he showed my parents the way to the kitchen so they could talk to Stiles’ dad, who was apparently busy with the dinner.

“So,” Stiles said, he had his hands in his pockets and he looked a bit nervous. “How are you doing.”

“Fine. You.”

‘Great. Just not really looking forward to the dinner… Not that I don’t want you to be here, just my dad and-”

“It’s okay, to be honest I also didn’t want to come.” He showed me the way to the couch and our conversation was immediately much more easy once we were comfortably sitting there.

“How is it,” I asked, “being the sheriff’s son?”

“It’s great. I always get the information about the big cases. Just don’t tell anyone I told you.” he winked. I could see in his impression later that he realised it was pointless to wink to a blind girl. I wanted to laugh, but held it in. Then I felt my eyes sting a bit. Was I crying?

Well, was I trying to cry? I haven’t cried since the accident. The animal not only damaged my face and eyes, but also everything connected closely to my eyes. So I can not cry. Instead, it just stings.

But why was it stinging?

“Dinner is ready,” Stiles’ dad called out. Getting me out of my trance. I stood up and Stiles took my hand. I was a bit shocked, then quickly realised he was only helping me got to the table. Nothing more.

After the dinner Stiles and I got back to the couch while our parents stayed at the table. Nothing had really happened while we were eating. Except for that my dad kept on asking about the job and how big of a criminal city Beacon Hills is. I realised that that question made Stiles a bit nervous. but , why would it? He didn’t look like a criminal to me.

Mr. Stilinski had answered that there aren’t so many criminals around, but that the city did have a problem with animal attacks some time ago. I had almost choked on my food when I heard that. Animal attacks? Quick snippets of that night flashed before me. But more of the sounds. The crackling of the twigs. The hard wind rushing through the trees and the… howling. There was definitely something howling in the far background.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay,” Stiles whispered to me. I just told him that I was fine, but I already felt my eyes stinging again.

“Will you tell me what that was about?”

“What do you mean?” I asked in return.

“Well, you told me it was fine, but I could see it wasn’t.”

“PTSD, I guess.” Stiles looked at me in shock. Then, he looked in the direction of where our parents were and he stood up. A few second later, he threw me my jacket. I gave out a little scream.

“Oh, sorry. Put your coat on. We’re going for a walk.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you need to talk to someone,” he said and he couldn’t be more right. I hadn’t realised it, but once he mentioned it, I felt like I had to tell him everything… and with that I meant everything.

I was not sure what it was, but something about Stiles told me that he was different. He was normal, but still in a different way than others are. If that even makes sense.

I put my coat on and picked up my cane. Stiles stopped me: “You won’t need it.” I smiled and told him that I was just taking it, because otherwise I would lose it and folded it up so I could put in my pocket. I wasn’t sure, but from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him give me a weird look. I decided to just ignore it.

We walked out of the house, holding eachothers hands. To be honest, I had really gotten used to this. Every time Stiles held my hand, or even touched it for a second, a spark shot through my body.

It was already dark outside. The street lamps were on, but didn’t do much. From time to time I glanced at the houses we passed. Most families were watching tv or still eating dinner. They all seemed so happy. It made me sick.

“Here we are.” Stiles stopped. I slightly bumped into his side. Not even because I was “blind”, but simply because I wasn’t paying attention. We were standing in front of a flat piece of grass which was surrounded by tall and big trees. “Well,” he continued, “not exactly. Just a minute or two.”

“Alright.” I gave him a nervous smile. We walked to one side where the trees were the biggest. Once we couldn’t see the grass field anymore he stopped again. This time, in front of the biggest trees I have (n)ever seen. At the top of it, there was a big tree house.

“Where are we?”

“The most private place in whole Beacon Hills,” Stiles told me. When he said it, I could feel him squeeze my hand very lightly.

“It’s my old tree house. I build it with my parents when I was younger.”

“And how am I supposed to get up there?” I laughed.

“Ha ha. Do not worry. I have a great solution.” he pulled my with him to the other side of the tree where there was a ladder and next to it a swing.

“Sit right there,” he helped me get to the swing, “and hold on tight. I’ll see you in a minute.” after that he started to climb up the ladder. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my here all alone, but instead I screamed because suddenly my feet left the ground. I was being pulled up.

“What the hell, Stiles!” I said once I was up in the tree house.

“Oh c’mon. Do not say that wasn’t fun.” I didn’t say anything. Stiles just smiled and pulled me into a giant bean bag chair with him. I fell straight onto him. Our faces were only a few inches apart. I rolled to the side and looked up. I was nicely greeted with the night sky. It was beautiful.

“So, let’s talk,” he finally spoke up.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything you want to get out. Just say it.” I had to think for some time about what to say. I wanted to tell him about my secret so badly. But I can not just blurt it out at the beginning. The best thing was to slowly get to it.

“I hate my parents,” I sighed. It felt so good to finally say it out loud. “Like, don’t get me wrong. They are great parents. Just not for…”

“You?” he ended ym sentence.

“Exactly. You don’t want to know how often I overheard them talking about how they wished I wasn’t blind and how this,” I pointed at my face, “has ruined their chance at being the perfect family and stuff like that. It messes you up.” Stiles didn’t say anything. I wasn’t angry. What could he say?

“Then there is the fact that I don’t have any friends.”

“Do not say that.” Stiles almost seemed angry when he heard me say it.

“Or at least, not until now. Everyone always avoided me. And the fact that I don’t have a phone or any other form of contact possibilities doesn’t help either.” After that we stayed quiet for some time. I didn’t feel like talking anymore and Stiles probably had no idea what to say. After what felt like forever, he was the first one to break the silence.

“I was always wondering. How do you imagine the world?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you cannot see it, but you must have ideas, right? Like, for example, how do you think bacon looks like?”

“I never thought about it. But probably pink, whatever pink is”

“So what about the rest.”

“I always imagine that school is this gigantic fancy building, with golden walls and doors made from diamonds and other kinds of stones and that every popular girl just walks around in a trash bag or some other shitty outfit, just to make myself feel better.”

We both laughed at my imagination.

“And me?”

“What about you?”

“How do you think I look? You never really asked or like, you know…”

“Do that whole“I’m blind and the only way to know how you look like if to feel your face” thing. Not really my style.” I smiled. “Back to your question. I think you look just like a ken doll.”

“Excuse me? How do you even know how it looks like?” he laughed.

“I heard that it is the perfect definition of a guy, so…”

“STILES? (Y/N)? Are you up there?” suddenly the voice of mr. Stilinski disturbed our lovely silence. Stiles got up and poked his head out of the small window.

“Hi dad.” he waved downstairs.

“Get down here.” he simply ordered. Stiles walked back to me and guided me to the swing. I sat down and just before he started to pull me back down, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and said: “thank you.”

“For what?” Stiles seemed to be extremely confused by my actions.

“Everything.” and with that I started to get closer to the ground. There, I was welcomed by mr. Stilinski and my parents. None of them really seemed to be too happy with my actions.

My mom didn’t say anything, she just dragged me towards, I assumed, the car. I turned around and looked up to the treehouse where Stiles was still looking at me. I waved and he waved back, confusion still spread across his face.

Escape

A Bughead one-shot (aprx. 1.4K words)

Listen to: Disappear by Parachute


Are you awake?

Betty hit send and stared at her phone screen, longing for the reply bubble to appear. When no response came she tossed her phone to the side, turning her headphones up to maximum volume. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to drown out the screaming that rang out from across the hall.

Her parents had been arguing for weeks now, the product of unresolved tensions that had existed ever since her father moved back in. It was almost always regarding something insignificant - an overflowing trash bag, dishes left in the sink - any minor inconvenience sending them into a spiral.

Tonight, they were arguing about a dinner party. Her mother felt they were obligated to attend, but her father had stubbornly refused. Betty sighed as the yelling continued, frustrated with the knowledge that her mother had told her earlier in the evening how unenthusiastic she was about attending the event. 

She was beyond the point of tears, too numb to the experience to have such a reaction. Emotion had given way to emptiness, a deep-set hollowness settling at her core. She curled up beneath her blankets, wrapping her arms around her stuffed cat Caramel for comfort and checking her phone one more time. 

No response.

Betty began browsing through Netflix, finding herself too disheartened to actually select anything. It seemed like she had watched everything in the past few weeks, in constant need of an escape. Giving up, she opened her music library and hit play.

There was nothing she could do. She’d tried intervening during the first few arguments, each time finding no success in dissolving the tension. No one ever got physical, the only real damage being done verbally, and both her parents were equally as venomous. While it always placed a heavy weight on Betty’s heart, she had learned that the fights passed faster when she simply stayed in her room, doing her best to remain unnoticed. So staying in her room was exactly what she planned to do. 

Letting the soft acoustic of the guitar wash over her, Betty closed her eyes and did her best to pretend she couldn’t hear the dresser drawers slamming or her mother’s irrational cries.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Betty quickly reached for it, praying she had finally received her reply.

Look outside

Betty’s eyes quickly darted to her window, but the familiar face was nowhere to be seen. Pulling herself out of her bed, she walked over to the window and slid it open. 

Looking down, Betty smiled as she spotted Jughead, wearing his trademark jean jacket and beanie, standing on the ground and waving up at her.

“Come down!” He whisper-yelled, pointing to the ladder he had already propped up against her house.

Betty’s eyes widened at the suggestion. Sneaking out was not something she was accustomed to, the rule-breaking still feeling scandalous even after all the drama the town had been through. She hesitated, but another shout from her father was all the push she needed to shimmy through the window and down the ladder. 

“Hi.” Jughead said as he gently assisted her off the ladder, placing his hands on her waist to stabilize her.

“Hi.” Betty echoed back, pulling closer and giving him a hello kiss, happy for a moment of relief.

“I got your text.” Jughead’s eyes were soft with concern. “Are your parents fighting again?”

“Yeah…” Betty’s eyes dropped to the ground, watching as her toes dug into the dirt beneath them. “It was just some stupid dinner party drama.”

“I’m sorry Bets.” Jughead sighed, running his hand down her arm until it connected with hers, “It will get better. Give it time.”

A half-hearted smile crossed Betty’s face, watching as he pulled her hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her fingertips. She sighed, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Just get me out of here.”

“Of course.” Jughead smiled, giving her hand a squeeze and pulling her away from the house.

Jughead led her to the street and opened the side door to FP’s truck, gesturing for her to get in. Betty didn’t need any persuasion to jump into the passenger seat.

They drove for about twenty minutes, windows rolled all the way down and soft music playing on the radio. They didn’t speak a word the entire way there, their only communication being Jughead’s hand intertwined in hers as she leaned back on the headrest and stared out at the trees that passed by.

Eventually Jughead pulled off to the side of the road and shut off the engine. Betty looked around, confused. 

“Jug, where are we?” She furled her eyebrows “I thought we were going to go to Pop’s or something. There’s nothing around here.”

“Just trust me.” Jughead winked at her. He reached into the backseat, grabbed a blanket, and hopped out of the truck without another word.

Betty cautiously followed behind him, allowing herself to be led through the forest and up a small hill. After a minute or so, the trees gave way to a clearing, and Betty stopped short. 

“Juggie,” her voice came out quiet and breathy, in awe of the field before her, “How did you know this was here?”

“You’re not the only one who has needed an escape before.” He admitted as he placed the blanket on the ground. He laid down on the blanket, signaling for her to do the same. She joined him, nestling into the crook of his elbow, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the distant sound of crickets and staring up at the stars. 

“I just don’t get it.” Betty’s voice came out small, almost imperceptible as it dissolved into the vast expanse of the night sky.

“Get what?” Jughead asked.

“Why they keep fighting. Why they’re still together.” Betty confessed, her tone laced with resentment and frustration. “Can’t they just choose already? Either be together and be happy or be apart.”

“Is that what you want?” Jughead’s voice was soft with surprise, and he turned his head to look at her. “For your parents to be apart?”

“Anything would be better than this. It’s just this constant argument.” Betty sighed heavily, biting her lip and looking back up at the sky. “I just don’t understand,” she said quietly, “how two people who used to love each other so much could fall apart so badly.”

Jughead didn’t respond, knowing that her words were no longer directed at him, but rather being thrown into the sky, a question meant for the universe. Instead, he simply tightened his grip on her shoulder, slowly rubbing his thumb against her skin as a small act of reassurance.

“Juggie?” Betty whispered, turning toward him, her doe-eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah Bets?”

“What if…” Betty paused, unsure of herself, “What if that happens to us?”

“Betty,” He reached up to cup her cheek with his palm, every ounce of his body radiating sincerity. “That will never happen. I won’t let it. I would never be able to forgive myself if it did.” He moved his thumb to wipe an escaped tear from her cheek, her face flushing with heat. “You and me? We’re in it for the long haul.” 

“Promise?” She whispered, the shakiness of her tone revealing her insecurities.

“I promise.” Jughead leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose and wiping away the wild tears that streamed down her face with relief. Her pulled her close, leaving butterfly kisses on her forehead and tracing his fingers along her jawline. “I love you Betty Cooper. And that’s never going to change.”

Betty nodded, her throat too tight with emotion to respond. She curled into Jughead’s chest, letting him to wrap her up in his warm embrace. Her ran his fingers through her hair and cooed soft affections in her ear, allowing her to leave tear stains on his chest. 

Slowly but surely her breathing steadied, and Betty unfurled herself from his arms, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“I love you Jughead Jones. Please never forget it.” 

“Never.” He vowed, eyes shining with devotion. Betty leaned in and kissed him, all of her cares lifting from her chest and floating off into the night sky and disappearing beyond the stars.

ML/PJO: The Sea and The Sun

Chapter 2—->

So I did the thing I definitely shouldn’t have done. I saw this post by @gittana and things spiraled out of control from there. It’s much too long and still I haven’t finished writing up to the point where my muse has stopped speaking to me.

Also because The Lightning Thief was written in the first person I decided to start writing in in the first person from Marinette’s P.O.V beginning at Chapter 1 however the prologue is still in 3rd person. Bear with me on this.


Prologue

Just a little farther!! I’m almost there! Please please, whoever’s up there, please let me make it! Marinette thought to herself as she dashed up the hillside where a large pine tree signified a place of safety.

“Come here child!” The woman behind her screeched sounding much closer now.

Marinette dared to glance over her shoulder where the creature was fast approaching. The top half of the monster was that of a woman with wild unblinking eyes and razor sharp teeth. The lower half of her body was that of a serpent. Her tail slithered up the hill as her arms propelled her forward in an unnatural way. Marinette’s lungs burned as she pushed herself to run faster up the hill. She swallowed hard, tasting blood. Hands clasped around her ankle sharp nails digging into her skin. Marinette screamed as she was pulled down to the grassy earth and was dragged backwards. Marinette grabbed fistfuls of the soft wet grass in an attempt to slow her pull towards certain death. She was pulled through the grass with fumbling hands searching for anything to catch hold of. A clumsy hand wrapped around a stick. A stick was hardly a weapon but Marinette was grateful for anything at this point. I’m going to go down fighting with a stick! This is so embarrassing, Marinette thought to herself tightening her hold on the only thing she had to protect herself. Clawed hands ripped as her back. She could feel hot breath blow against her neck. Now was her chance. Marinette whimpered as she turned beneath the monster’s grasp to come face to face with it. The serpentine woman smiled wickedly at the young girl showing all her pointy teeth.

“I’m sure you taste as sweet as you look child,” The monster cooed her breath smelling metallic, like blood. Marinette’s stomach churned uneasily.

The woman opened her mouth inhumanly wide preparing to take a bite of Marinette. With shaking hands Marinette swiftly plunged the stick into one of the woman’s unblinking eyes. The woman shrieked in pain releasing Marinette from her grasp. Marinette scrambled to her feet charging towards the hill. The monster quickly recovered, leaping towards Marinette. Marinette dove to the side barely missing the woman’s claws. The monster turned to face her with her one good eye, the other was missing leaving a bloodied black hole behind. Marinette grimaced as the creature hissed. She began to slowly back up towards the tree while keeping her eyes trained on the woman. The monster flicked her tail out knocking Marinette to the ground and letting the woman slither on top of her once move. Marinette struggled beneath her pushing her face away with her hands and trying her best not to let the nails burying themselves into the flesh of her arms bother her. In the scramble to avoid the creatures teeth and keep from losing a hand one of Marinette’s thumbs found it’s way to the creatures lone eye. Without any other weapon in her arsenal Marinette began to press against the eye’s slick surface with as much force as she could muster. The creature yowled in pain her head reeling back but where she went Marinette followed pressing harder into the woman’s eye. The creature’s claws raked down her arms. Marinette stifled a scream as she kept pressing down. Her stomach lurched when she finally heard that sickening pop. The woman’s body stilled a smile spreading across her features looking strangely out of place as she slumped to the ground with a contented sigh. Breathing heavy Marinette, hands slick with- well she didn’t really want to think about that- staggered up the hill. As her feet drug themselves past the borders of the pine tree Marinette fell to her knees a lump forming in her throat. Finally! After all this time she was safe. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief tears filing her eyes as she heard the startled shouts of campers. Safe. Exhaustion swept through her. Without the threat of death hanging over her head she could finally let herself rest. Slumping against the soft bed of grass beneath her she let the darkness overtake her.


Keep reading

“If you had a friend you knew you’d never see again, what would you say? If you could do one last thing for someone you love, what would it be? Say it, do it. Don’t wait. Nothing lasts forever. Make a wish, place it in your heart. Anything you want, everything you want. Do you have it? Now believe it can come true. You never know where the next miracle is going to come from, the next memory, the next smile, the next wish come true. But, if you believe that it’s right around the corner, and you open your heart and mind to the possibility of it, to the certainty of it, you just might get the thing you wished for. The world is full of magic, you just have to believe in it. So make your wish and believe in it with all your heart”

- Lucas Scott

huffingtonpost.com
18 'One Tree Hill' Cast And Crew Members Accuse Showrunner Of Sexual Harassment
The women published a letter detailing the showrunner's "traumatizing" behavior.

It has been incredibly shocking to read about this, but, as many people pointed out, what the show stands for doesn’t change for me. I truly believe it tells one of the most brilliant stories about growing up and even though I have absolutely no respect left for Mark Schwahn and hope that he will be held responsibile for his horrible actions, I still love the show and the actors that worked so passionately on it for so long, despite the circumstances. So, instead of remembering Schwahn, let us remember Brooke Davis and Peyton Sawyer and Haley James Scott,  let us remember the way Sophia and Hilarie and Bethany and Daneel worked hard and made these characters their own and showed us what it’s like to be a young girl growing up in this world. Let us remember them, let us make One Tree Hill theirs, like it should have been.

All the cast and the crew have proved that despite the hardships they went through, they love Tree Hill as well. I’m thankful they decided to adress this because Schawhn shouldn’t get away with it. I guess a thank you is mandatory –and heartfelt, for Sophia and Hilarie and Bethany and Daneel and all the other women that put their souls into the show and loved it with every fiber of their being, despite everything. It has a special place in my heart and always will. Tree Hill’s home.

Badboy!Luke - Part 6

Originally posted by fruckinluke

Part 1  |  Part 2  |  Part 3  |  Part 4  |  Part 5

A/N: I know I haven’t updated this since November, but  better late than never.

Warnings: Angst (slight bullying(verbal comments) towards Y/N)

Summary so far(because it’s been a while): Y/N has decided to give Luke a chance to prove he’s not a fuckboy.

Y/N’s POV

I was sat in his car, he was driving me to god knows where. He had simply knocked on my door and said he was cashing in on the date I owed him. It had been a week since I had agreed to go out with him.

After waiting for a week I had assumed he had forgotten and moved on. That wouldn’t have surprised me, it would have only confirmed my original suspicions. Although when I asked him why he had waited this long, he simply said, he needed time to prepare.

It was nice to know that he had at least put some thought into this date if it took him a whole week to prepare for it.

The journey is quiet, only some soft music playing from the radio as we drove through town. It was nice, I stared out the window as the sun started to disappear beneath the tree line.

Eventually his car pulled to a stop on the top of a small hill. I climb out, taking in the scenery around me. It was beautiful. There were trees everywhere, the golden glow of the sunset illuminated the area.

Luke gestures for me to follow him into the woods. I walk behind him, looking around in awe at how beautiful the area was. I had no idea that this place even existed, and I know that I will be coming here more often from now on.

We walk through the trees, until we come to an opening, there was a lake, the water a deep blue. It reminded me of his eyes, a beautiful pool of colour. There was a  picnic blanket laid down on the bank. A hamper of food sat next to it, although it was knocked over. Whatever was inside it was scattered around it on the floor.

“No, no, no” Luke groaned. Walking away from me towards the blanket. The panic was evident on his face. I had never seen him like this before. Usually he was in control but here it looked like he was out of his element.

“What happened?” I ask as I walk up behind him.

“I don’t know I left the picnic here ready, and ugh- everything is ruined” he groans as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“The foxes probably got to it. Why would you leave a hamper full of food in the middle of nowhere?” you asked in amusement.  Wondering why he  didn’t just bring the picnic in the car and carry it here.

“I wanted to surprise you. So that you would walk here and find it and it would be all romantic and shit.” he sighs.

“Well I appreciate the thought” I nudge his shoulder in reassurance.

“But it’s ruined” he whines, reminding me of a small child. I find it cute but also kind of funny considering his badboy appearance.

“So what? We don’t have food, we can still sit and enjoy the scenery. I came out because I wanted to spend time with you, not for food.” I try to reassure him. It seems to be working as a small smile appears on his face.

“Although, I will never deny food, just for future reference” I add smile, trying to lighten his mood.

We sit down by the lake, our bodies were close but not touching. We talk about anything and everything until the sun had disappeared completely. I wasn’t sure how long we had been there, time just seemed to fly, conversation was flowing easily, and I found myself enjoying his company.

“ I should be getting home, it’s late and my parents will worry” I say quietly. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew mum would panic if I weren’t home soon.

“Ok” he smiles understandingly. “I wouldn’t want them to think I’m a bad influence” he jokes.

“You. Never” I chuckle.

He smiles as he leads me back to his car.

Keep reading

I got my The Lightning Thief cast album today and I’ve been listening to it all day. I saw the show 8 times and I really miss it. 

- I was remembering that time when Chris made his entrance and the audience cheered, it was a wonderful moment. 

- Carrie singing Strong is so beautiful 

- The feels during Their Sign, I wish Jonathan got to sing more by himself in the show. 

- Another Terrible Day always made me laugh. I love the “Girls and their ponies. Speaking of ponies…” line when Chiron makes his entrance. I thought that was one of the funniest lines in the show but I think a lot of people missed it. 

- The notes that Sarah Beth hits in Put You In Your Place 

- Chris showed so much emotion during Good Kid in the show and you can hear it in his voice 

- I’m so glad they put the squirrel bit into the album. 

- I love Drive, it’s such a fun song

- The emotion that George Salazar gives during Tree on the Hill 

- Carrie slaying DOA 

- James’ vocals during Last Day of Summer

- Bring on the Monsters is my favorite song on the album (obviously). The “Bring on the real worlddddd. Bring on the real worldddd” part always gets me so emotional. 

I love this show so much. 

Picnic ♡ Grayson

Summary: Vacation is almost over which is the reason you are stressing out, starting a new school and all of that. Grayson decides to surprise you by taking you on a nice picnic. 

Word count: 2.020

A/N: This is just a fluffy imagine for those who start school (or have already started) and need a reminder that they will do great! I believe in you :) Do your best and study hard, because hard work always pays off! Xx

Requested!

The early morning sunlight was the reason you had woken up so early today. You opened your eyes and closed them immediately when you glimpsed at your phone and saw how late it was; 8.30. Too early to wake up at a Sunday morning in your opinion.

After turning around to get comfortable til the point you were wrapped between the sheets, you realized that you weren’t able to fall back to sleep again. But why would you? It was the very last day of your vacation and no way you were going to waste that.

Although it was Sunday and that was mostly one of the days you loved the most, today was the very opposite. The whole week you had been hoping that these last few days of your holiday would slow down a bit, so you could enjoy your last spare time with your boyfriend.

But the thing is; the slower you want things to go, the faster they will eventually. And just as any other day they fly by and then suddenly it is Sunday again. On Monday you were going to start your very first day at college. Yippie.

You were more nervous than excited. A new school, new people, a new city… Everything was going to change. And you were the type of person who liked to stay by the old and familiar things.

You turned around and catch sight of your favourite person laying next to you; Grayson Dolan. He was laying on his chest, head on the corner of his pillow. He looked so dreamy and pretty that your heart melted. He wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of boxers, and as usual you were the one who had stolen the sheets throughout the night. Not on purpose, of course.

You held your hand out and let your fingers trace his back, which was warm from the sunlight. You chuckled softly when you noticed the red scratches from last night on his normally oh so smooth skin.

After a while Grayson woke up and blinked his eyes a few times, before he glanced up to meet yours with a small smile. ‘Wake up, sleepy head,’ you whispered and leaned in to kiss him  on his cheek. 'Hey baby,’ he grunted, his voice a little raspy from the sleep.

He cleared his throat and turned around, so he got to lay on his back. He looked very sleepy with his hair sticked to his forehead, something he always had when he just woke up. You scoot closer and press a light kiss onto his chest.

'Any plans for today?’ he asked, grabbing your hand after you pulled back. You shook your head. 'What do you think of just staying in bed today? Eating pancakes and watching some Netflix?’ you asked. Grayson played absently with your fingers, the look on his face questionable.

'Hm… Not that that doesn’t sound appealing, but what do you think of going on a hike today?’ He gazed at you, and you had to keep your face straight to hide the surprising feeling you felt. 'A hike?’ you asked. You were a bit stunned that he rejected your offer, since that was something you guys did a lot on weekends.  

And if you were completely honest, hiking was the last thing you wanted to do today, especially today. All you needed was to take things easy for as long as possible. As soon as school would start again you were going to be walking a lot.

But it was Grayson’s last day to spend time with you as well, so you just decided to go with it. At the end of the day everything you did with Grayson was fun. 'Yes, sure. Sounds good,’ you said.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

'I. Can’t. Breathe,’ you said, gasping for air after every word you spoke. Grayson, who stood a few meters before you, suddenly held his step and turned around to watch you. 'We’re almost there baby, just hold on a little longer.’

If it wasn’t for the weather today, the hike with Grayson had been more than awesome. You had seen many animals and Grayson had chosen a beautful hiking trail. But it was so bloody hot and there wasn’t any wind to make it at least a little bearable.

You were glad you put on some sunscreen and deodorant, but you were sure you were still burned and sweating like a pig. 'Grayson,’ you begged and closed one eye to look up to him.

For a reason you didn’t know he had no trouble with the heat at all and he still looked like a Greek god. He took a few big steps and within two seconds he stood beside you.

'We’re almost there, I promise. Do you want me to carry you?’ Grayson asked sweetly. 'No no, I’m fine. But what do you mean, 'we’re almost there’? Where are we going?’ Grayson grinned and took your hand. 'You’ll see. Now come on.’

Grayson hadn’t lied. It didn’t take longer than five minutes before you finally reached what he called your destination. When you were at the top of the hill after an hour long walk, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You had never been in a place like this before.

'Grayson… It’s so beautiful here.’ You looked around you, taking it all in. You had reached the top of the hill now and there was an outstretched meadow in front of you, covered in sunshine and daisies. Grayson sighed. 'I know right? Ethan and I came here a lot when we were little. Now I come here rarely. It’s a place to just think and clear your mind.’

'I bet…’  you said. 'Wait… what is over there?’ You pointed your finger in the direction where a big tree was standing. You didn’t know what, but there were things spread around the tree. 'That was the surprise,’ Grayson smiled and looked at you. 'A surprise? For me?’ You asked, not convinced.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

'Oh my God. This is so sweet, Gray.’ You sat down and Grayson followed. 'It’s nothing,’ he said modest, but his cheeks turned red at your compliment. He reached for the picnic basket and started to get out all the things he prepared and bought for the picnic.

Crispy croissants, watermelon, grapes, a pack of oreos, a bottle of water and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice. All of your favourite foods. Something you adored about Gray was that he always remembered the littlest of details, such as your favourite fruit, your favourite cookies and your favourite drinks.

Of course, that wasn’t the most important thing for a good relationship, but it was just so nice of him to do this. He also knew you loved picnicking, but it wasn’t something you did regularly because of your busy schedules.

You watched Grayson with a big smile as he grabbed two cups and poured in something to drink for the two of you, his face in a small frown as he tried to not spill on the red and white blanket you were sitting on.

'Cheers,’ you toasted before you took a sip. 'Cheers,’ Grayson smiled, winking at you. It was almost terrifying how big his hands looked compared to the cup and compared to yours.

After you had eaten a croissant and a big piece of the watermelon, you sat back and leaned on your elbows, letting the sun warm your face that was sheening through the leaves. Luckily you had coolen down a bit from the long hike. It was much more enjoyable in the shadow than walking out in the sun.

You catch Grayson looking at you and you give him a sweet smile. It had been quiet for a while now, listening to the birds and buzzing bees around you. Something you noticed was that there wasn’t any sign or sound of a car, a plane or anything that you always heard if you were in the city.

It felt like you were far away from the modern world and no one would ever know. A fresh breeze blowed the hair out of your face and you inhaled deeply. You closed your eyes, simply enjoying the calm feeling you had. You didn’t mind Grayson and you were quiet; it was actually quite nice. It gave you some time to organize your thoughts.

An angelic voice made your eyes flutter open. 'I wish we could do this more often, you know that?’ Grayson said. You nodded and sighed. 'Me too. I still can’t believe you did this, Grayson,’ you told him. 'You make me sound so unromantic, Y/N. I love doing  things to make you happy!’ Grayson said, eating the last piece of his croissant.

'No! I-’ you objected, but Grayson laid his hand on yours, calming you down. 'I was just kidding, baby. I thought I’d do something that would clear your mind before you started at your new school. You have been acting so anxious these last few days and I was worried. I figured maybe this would help.’

You brought his hand up to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss on the back of his hand. He bit his lip. 'It did. Thank you,’ you said gratefully. 'So, when did you set all of this up?’ you wondered. 'This morning,’ he answered proudly. 'Ethan and I went to the store and bought the food. We went to this hill and set everything up, then I went back to the apartment and I pretended to be asleep. I was just five minutes back before you woke up.’

He grinned after he said that last sentence, realizing his plan almost had failed. You narrow your eyes. 'So Ethan is in the complot as well?’ 'Uhuh,’ Grayson nodded. 'That’s very sweet of him. But why? Couldn’t you take all of this stuff up here on your own?’ Grayson acted like he was offended and was about to answer, but you quickly added; 'I guess those arms don’t prove much, do they?’ Grayson laughed his heartwarming laugh. 'Shut up, Y/N.’

'Make me,’ you said softly, watching him with a serious face. Grayson looked like he was atonished by the change of the situation, but he recovered quickly. He raised his eyebrows and a cheeky smile played around his lips. You giggled, knowing exactly to what this would lead.

'C'mere,’ was the only thing he said. You scooted closer, still giggling. He leaned in and you thought he was going to kiss you, so you closed your eyes and waited until his smooth lips would touch yours. Suddenly you felt two hands grabbing your waist and pinning you down.

Suddenly, without a warning, he started tickling you everywhere. You squeeled and laughed, your hands trying to push him away. 'So you think I’m not strong, huh? I guess you should take that back, baby girl.’ You almost weren’t able to speak, still laughing and trying to escape.

'N-Never!’ you giggled. When you were gasping for air and you almost couldn’t breathe, Grayson decided it was enough and he helped you sit up straight, still chuckling in amusement. 'You call that a punishment?’ you challenged him. You were not finished with the fun yet.

Grayson smiled broadly. 'You are unbelievable, Y/N. You want me to really punish you?’ 'Depends on what kind of punishment…’ you whispered and leaned in, kissing him on his soft lips. 'Hmm… No, no,’ Grayson hummed against your lips when you tried to pull back.

He closed his hands around your cheeks to stop you from leaning back. You giggled against his mouth, brushing your nose against his. He smelled sweet and tasted like watermelon.

He parted your lips and let his tongue find it’s way between your lips, wanting to taste all of you. A long minute passed and slowly he pulled back, stroking his thumb against your cheek.

'I love you, Y/N. You are going to do amazing in college. I have so much faith in you.’ Your heart fluttered at his kind words. Grayson never failed to make you feel better. 'Thank you, Gray. I love you too.’


Wrote another Halloween thing for my writing class...

I think my Professor is going to start thinking there is something seriously wrong with me from all these witing exersises deticated to Halloween. 

I thought I would share this new one:


“The October Country. A mythical place where Autumn is forever. Where every tree is decked with gold, red, burning orange, and vivid yellow. The mist always creeps and clings low to long pale stalks of grass, and coils around the old, cracked trunks of ancient trees. The moon is always full. A ghostly galleon on the floating, sinister clouds that paint the sky and shroud the stars.

           Graveyards are plentiful here, and they sprawl out over hills like disease. The tombstones pock the ground like strange shaped boulders. Ghosts are seen floating, there macabre wails join the whispers on the wind to form a song to the dead and lost. What homes there are and decayed things, mere skeletons of their former Victorian glory. Rusted iron, weather-beaten, splintered wood. Decrepit staircases that no longer lead to anywhere, and the ghosts haunt these places, too.

           Black cats, bats, and spiders and seen creeping through this world with sinister eyes that seem to see right through your skin and down to your bones.  Monsters reside here as well. Dark, disfigured creatures from every black corner of your deepest, most horror-filled nightmares.They await you behind doors, corners, and places where the light never touches. Jack O’ Lanterns provide the only comfort with their orange, welcoming glow. Their ghastly grinning faces beckoning you to come closer, grip them tight, and cling to their light. Ancient watchers and soul protectors. They are your only friend in this fiendish world. Keeping all the terrors at bay.

           This creepy land where every day is Halloween. Where every hour is the witching hour. Where the Hessian soldier gallops headless atop his deep black steed. A darksome country that only those who live and breathe Samhain could ever love and find joy in. This is the October Country, and it is not for the faint of heart.”

Originally posted by theworldisworthagif