va fanfiction

I swear my parents don’t know if I’m satanic or a religious freak.

-I have devil traps all over my room
-Wear an anti possession bracelet
-talk about how cool lucifer was
But then I:
-Can name 20 different Angels
-I could do an exorcism in less then a minute
-And can explain the relationship between Michael and lucifer with exquisite detail.

But what my parents don’t understand is I’m neither I just watch supernatural.

Finding the Perfect Dress AU

I let out a frustrated sigh and groaned.

“I CAN’T DO THIS,” I hissed, fumbling for the zip at my back. My fingers were just shy of reaching the zipper. I let out another groan and I felt Lissa slapping my hands away from the dress.

Rose,” She said soothingly. “Calm down, we’ll find the dress,”

I ground my teeth together, I didn’t think it was possible that I could find a dress nice enough to blow Dimitri away…not amongst all this lace. Lissa smirked and rested her chin on my shoulder and smiling at me in our reflection on the mirror.

“It’s so good to see you stressing about something so normal. I forgot you had another face. I’ve been so used to the guardian face,” she joked. I thumbed at the dress and looked at her.

“Look at me Lissa. I look like a fucking meringue. Of course I’m stressed. Get me out of this!” I pleaded. Lissa laughed helping me step out of the dress.

“You could walk down the aisle in a trash bag and Dimitri would still think you were the most beautiful woman in the room,” She said softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I let out an exasperated sigh and looked at her.

I know that Lissa, I do. But…I just want to look perfect. I’m a guardian…I don’t always have the luxury of dressing up like this,” I said, stepping into the next dress. I couldn’t wait…the hair, the makeup…the nails. I pulled the dress up and glanced at Lissa making a disgusted face when she tried to zip it up.

“Don’t touch the zip, this isn’t the dress,” I said, taking it off and sneering at it. Who wanted a dress with feathery sleeves? I handed it back to the assistant and groaned, throwing myself down on the couch.

“Maybe I should go like this,” I said gesturing down at my underwear. Lissa laughed and it was the type of laugh I missed hearing. It was the Rose you are being so unreasonable laugh. I felt the corners of my mouth tilt up and I looked at Lissa.

“What do you think?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.

“I’m sure Abe would really approve. Half the congregation would be wiped out by him and Dimitri,” she said, pulling me up. I stood up and nodded. She was right…there would be a blood bath. I sighed, looking through the dresses. My eyes landed on one which was a sort of halter neck…it was like nothing I had ever seen before. I picked it up and the shop assistant shook her head.

“That’s not really the right kind of dress for a fairytale wedding!” She said. I looked at her and then at Lissa who noticed the warning in my eyes. Get her out of here. I smiled as Lissa led her away. It would have been a shame to get blood on the dresses. I slid into the dress and smoothed it down.

“Lissa I need your help,” I called reaching desperately for the buttons.

“I’m just coming Ros-oh,” she trailed off, staring at me. I felt myself frown.

“Does it look that bad?” I asked. Lissa took a few steps forward and shook her head gesturing for me to look in the mirror. She buttoned up the dress and leaned her chin on my shoulder again.

“That is your dress,” she told me. I nodded in agreement. This is my dress.

The Hawkeye Initiative

It’s Natasha that brings it to his attention. Steve still feels a little overwhelmed by Captain America’s popularity in this century and the idea of being famous as well as a ninetyish year old man fastforwarded in time is still something he’s adjusting to. So some things are still alien and the increasing love for the Avengers is something he’s aware of but hasn’t particularly explored. But what Nat shows him makes him start to reconsider his views on social media.

They’re everywhere. All over the internet, every major site where Avengers fans congregate. Pictures. Tons of them. Steve wonders how he managed to miss something so incredible. Nat knows he’s a good artist. When she shows him the pictures there’s a quirk of her lips and more than a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“They’re calling it the Hawkeye Initiative,” she says. 

Steve presses his lips together, trying not to smile, but he’s losing that particular battle. 

“People draw Clint in these poses.”

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes as he swipes to the next screen on Natasha’s phone and sees a scantily clad Hawkeye aiming an arrow at the viewer. The look on his face is… well, suggestive is about the only word Steve feels comfortable using.

“Do one for me.”

“No,” Steve says, but Barton’s been an annoying little shit lately and the idea of doing something silly and petty behind his back is appealing. 

“Please? It’s my birthday." 

"Is it really?” Steve says. She doesn’t say anything but gives him a look that just says, ‘maybe. You’ll never know for sure.’

He fights the urge for as long as he can but a mere forty-five minutes later he’s got a small sketchbook and a pen in hand and a series of cartoon Hawkeye’s in ridiculous outfits emerges. It feels good to draw again and strangely inspired, he continues for the next week. Sometimes Nat sits and draws with him and surprisingly she has some talent for art. Tony finds out about the Initiative and they bring him in on it before he can crack some joke to Barton and ruin their club.

One day after meeting with Fury about a mission, Steve leaves the office and sees Clint leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for him. His arms are crossed over his chest and the look on his face means he’s either pissed or hasn’t had his coffee yet. Steve stops.

Clint looks at him with narrowed eyes, straightens, and then wordlessly pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. It’s a bit crinkled, it’s folded, but Steve knows that paper. It’s the high-quality paper from the sketchbook Bucky got him for his last birthday. As Barton unfolds the sheet Steve’s heart sinks. He sees this ridiculous comicbook drawing of Clint in fishnets and high heels, his body twisted in impossible angles to mimic what artists do when they draw female characters. Barton holds it up and looks at Steve.

“I walked in on Nat and Stark,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, feeling guilty.

Clint shrugs. “I’m actually here for an autograph. I have a friend, Kate - she’ll think it’s hilarious and I kinda owe her one.”  


Visiting Mason’s Grave - Dimitri POV

I don’t know why I even went looking for her. It was the same every year. Every Christmas eve Rose went missing…well not really missing. I always knew exactly where she was.

I pulled my duster on and stepped out of the car. It has been raining so much over the past few days that the ground was coated with a layer of wetness. I just hoped Rose had thought to bring a jacket. The rain was beginning to fall and I knew it would feel like ice on her skin. I opened the gate to the cemetery and sighed with relief when I seen Rose sitting at the graveside with a bunch of flowers in her hand. My happiness was short lived when I noticed the thin cardigan she was wearing.

“Oh Roza,” I said softly, I pulled off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “You’re soaked,” I murmured. Rose let out a small sob and I felt a clench in my chest.

“You should be inside,” I added. Rose shook her head.

“This is where I should be, this is where I need to be,” she muttered. I sat down beside her and touched her hair.

“Your butt is going to get wet,” Rose mumbled. I shrugged and pulled her into my lap and smoothed back her hair.

“I was worried about you,” I told her, wiping her tears away with my thumb.

“I miss him,” She cried. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and ran my hands through her hair.

“I know Roza, I know,” I told her, I cradled her against my chest and made soothing noises.

“I should have done more to protect him. I could’ve saved him. If I hadn’t led him on like I did and told him about the strigoi, he wouldn’t have even been in Spokane at all. He shouldn’t have been in Spokane at all.” She rambled through sobs and I felt her body shaking against mine. Oh Roza…

Holding her tight to me, I whispered in her ear, “Rose, there is nothing more you could have done. You did the best by him.” I reassured her. I began to rock her in my arms as her sobs grew louder. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this, to feel this way. He loved you, Roza. He’d want you to be happy.”

It hurt me to think that another man loved her as I did, but I knew it was true. Mason had adored Rose enough to die protecting her, something I would never, could never, truly forget. Even after death, he refused to leave her unprotected.

I felt Rose cuddle closer into my chest, and I leaned over her to further protect her from the rain. Then, she truly surprised me. She began to laugh. “Rose?”

“Do you know what he told me once?” she asked, brushing the tears onto my rain-soaked duster. “He said, ‘I hope they let me carry an axe.’ An axe. He would look absolutely ridiculous carrying an axe around with him.” A giggle escaped her lips, but soon more tears formed in her eyes. At a loss for words, I began to caress her arm.

“He should have had that chance,” she whispered. I felt my heart shatter.

“Yes, Roza.” I didn’t dare look at her face. “He should have.”

We both fell silent as we listened to the rain fall around us. I was prepared to sit there for hours as long as it brought her comfort. Stroking her hair, I furiously hoped that she wouldn’t catch pneumonia. After several minutes, the sobbing stopped and I felt her body go limp. Her steady breathing told me that she’d fallen asleep.

Looking to the grave, I let out a sigh. “She loves you, you know,” I whispered. Staring at the dates, I felt my spirit drop. Eighteen years. “And she’s right. You should’ve had more time.”

Knowing I needed to get Rose out of the weather, I carefully shifted her in my arms and stood up. As I carried her carefully back to the car, several thoughts filled my head. I dreaded these graveyard visits and I hated to see her cry, but I also knew one thing with absolute certainty: Rose was strong. She would overcome this.

She whimpered softly and I glanced down at her. She was huddled close to my body, her eyelashes glued together with tears and rain, her face peaceful in sleep. I couldn’t imagine life without her. I couldn’t imagine waking up to a world without her determination and strength challenging me every day. The idea was sobering and I turned back for one last look at Mason’s grave. “Thank you. Thank you for protecting her when I couldn’t.” I smiled bitterly, “Until next time, мой друг.”

“For love, no gesture can be judged. From a smile to a request, anything is allowed if it is in the name of love… right? Because that way I know that I’m not being selfish, after all, my love for her is enough to do anything. Is it really reprehensible to want her in my arms?

Maybe it is. But loving her is my salvation. That is, if someone like me can have salvation.

Blood stained hands. Theirs, mine, hers. Probably not even the love I feel is enough.

I feel her taste in my mouth, dripping slowly through my skin. Her smell, invading me, impossible to resist. Only she has this effect on me. Another proof of our love, I’m sure.

Her eyes fall to the ground, staring, focused on her own thoughts no doubt. Maybe she’s praying to go back in time. Maybe for death to be swift. I hold her closer to me. The feeling that causes one to hold, to protect to preserve the person whom you care about. A mediocre definition they invented for the meaningless set of four letters that make up the word “love”. Our word, even though I cannot bring myself to say it. I repeat her name


I feel her fading away, slowly. I swallow dryly, controlling myself on seeing my ultimate reason of being disappearing in herself. Her strength diminishes, her eyes close, tired, still in ecstasy. I kiss her forehead.

No. No act is selfish when it comes to love.”

__written by stpressure and doubtthestarsarefire

anonymous asked:

Ahh ! Mais tu parles français ? Super ! J'adore ton blog, absolument tous tes posts, et je voulais savoir si tu as une petite idée de quand tu vas publier ta fanfiction sur David et Walter :3


Oui je parle français! Oh merci beaucoup! C’est très gentil! :)

J’ai énormément envie d’écrire pour ces deux personnages, et j’ai en fait commencé à écrire quelque chose… pour l’instant ça fait plus de 1000 mots, et c’est très étrange.

Et David il est trop creepy je sais pas comment atténuer ça… 


Chapter 1 of The Silverchurch Mystery by @mlp-mike
John Egbert arrives in a new town with no money, no job, no friends, and no family. Taking up a mysterious advert calling for an assistant, he meets Terezi Pyrope and a whole lot more than he expected.

Narrator: @kamz197
John: @zingdev
Terezi + Law official: @roxrezi
Dave: @significantlydevious

Editor: @kamz197
Artwork: @uforin

Read the original fanfic here

Vous êtes une MENACE tous autant que vous êtes, on ne peut même plus consulter tranquillement #upthebaguette sans avoir des fanons BEAUCOUP TROP INTIMES sur nos hommes politiques et je ne VOULAIS PAS imaginer la taille du pénis du Président je ne VOULAIS PAS

Et les fanfictions. Ne me parlez pas des fanfictions. *va se lever les yeux à l’HCl 5mol/L*

Je vous déteste tous.