way through hell

"And Ashes Fell From The Sky..." - at AO3
Now, as he sits in the car on this bridge, watching helplessly as the craft hovers above the only woman he’s ever truly loved, he can only hope and pray that whatever they do to her, they’ll do the same to him because the physical pain from their brutal instruments is nothing compared to the emotional pain of her absence – or of his failure to save her.
By Organization for Transformative Works

ATTENTION: This is THE FANFIC REC if I ever posted one.

So, while we impatiently wait for season 11, here’s a virtual season 11 envisioned by the amazing @2moms-0fucks and @piecesofscully

I read this over a week and half and I was literally SCREAMING at my phone the whole way through going: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? NOOOOOO. WHAT?!

I had to stop this fic so many times while reading it cause it was seriously too much. I’m so mad at this story but I also want to wipe it from my memory so I can read it again! It got me sucked in and slapped me in the face like no other story.

If anyone missed this gem, stop everything you’re doing and go READ IT NOW.

p.s. The sad part is: the real season 11 could never be this good.


I hope their relationship progresses to big sis and lil bro always making fun of each other vibe

“I miss the handprint,” Cas blurts out one night. Dean watches as his face falls, like he instantly regrets saying it. Those bright blue eyes dart around nervously, like he wishes he still had the power to poof out of the bunker and just disappear.

“What, the handprint you left on my arm?” Dean asks, confused.

Cas nods, looking once again like he’s going against his better judgment, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He clears it and tries not to let his reaction show.

“Why would you miss that?” Dean asks.

Dean knows why he misses it. He misses the comfort it used to give him, the solace of knowing that someone saved him, that there was someone who would always save him, even if it meant literally fighting his way through Hell. And as long as he never discusses it with Cas, he can even pretend that it was a sign that Cas truly cares, and not just because it was his assigned duty once upon a time.

But why would Cas miss it?

“I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head as he considers his words. “It used to make me feel connected to you. Like you were m-” He closes his mouth abruptly. “Never mind. It isn’t important.”

Dean swallows hard, and with a heart pounding so loudly in his ears he can barely hear his own voice, he answers. “Like I was what, Cas? Like I was yours?”

Cas stares with wide eyes as he nods.

Dean steps forward, hands shaking a little, until their noses are almost touching.
“I am, Cas. Handprint or not, I’ve been yours.”

Cas exhales then like he’s been holding it in for a long time, and lets his hand run up Dean’s arm as he leans in, not stopping until his fingers settle in the place they belong.

The air is sweet tonight.

Less like sugar, and more like the clean, cutting scent of midnight and quiet and dew hanging heavy like teardrops on grass. It’s the type of night that calms, the type of night that begs to be listened to, and Alec listens, hears the sound of swerving cars and hot dog stands and Magnus, walking by his side, all gentle breaths and rustling fabric and everything Alec has missed so badly.

There’s a lot he wants to say, so many words lying heavy on his tongue. He wants to tell Magnus about how Max is doing, or about the way his parabatai bond feels off. He wants to talk about how much it hurt seeing Magnus at the council meeting, or how hard it’s been to fall asleep on his own at night. He wants to tell Magnus everything, to fill in every splintering crack that’s emerged between them in the past few days.

But for now… for now, he lets himself walk. He lets himself settle into Brooklyn and summer and Magnus’s fingers intertwined with his own. He lets himself relearn the feeling of Magnus pressed into his side, of matching their strides, of being one half of a whole again after spending too long wondering if that empty hollow thing in his chest was going to be permanent.

The loft is warm when they arrive, barely lit and hazy. Standing by the door, Alec stops and watches as Magnus saunters into the living room, smooth and slow, taking his jacket off in a graceful twirl before he turns around and smiles at Alec. A smile that says welcome home, a smile that asks why are you so far away?

In silent response, Alec wanders in slowly, eyes on Magnus the whole time, half a grin on his face. He blindly trails his fingers along carved chairs and glass-paned doors and the old desk, hands remembering the space and the notches in the wood, passing over neat stacks of books and bottles and –


He tears his gaze away from Magnus and stares down to where his hand catches on a familiar strip of photographs lying front and center on the desk. He sees their faces staring up at him, smiling wide, and remembers Tokyo. He remembers cramming himself into that tiny photobooth, squished closed to Magnus, heart thrumming as the lights went bright and a woman’s voice started counting down. He remembers just laughing, laughing with Magnus, laughing because he was on a date with his boyfriend, and something warms inside of him at the knowledge that Magnus had been looking at the photos and doing exactly what Alec had been doing in the lonely hours of the morning, when he wanted to relive how good things had been.

In the present, he feels Magnus at his side, a solid wall of heat crowding gently against his arm, the beginnings of a question in the air.

Alec answers by reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a wrinkled, matching scrap. There’s a sharp crease down the middle and a corner is folded in, but he flattens it out the best he can as he lays it next to its twin.

Magnus and Alec. Alec and Magnus. Beaming and happy and immortalized in ink on a spring night in Shinjuku.

A low chuckle rumbles from Magnus’s throat. “You kept it with you, you sentimental sap,” he murmurs as he stares at the identical pictures for another slow, drawn out beat, studying the evidence of that night with a wistful gaze. He glances up at Alec’s face with an unreadable expression and then tugs at his arm, pulling them together until they slot in place in a simple hug.

Alec trembles. The feeling of Magnus’s face buried into his neck, the tender ache of it almost painful in his bones, the way he can’t help but dig his fingers into Magnus’s dark hair and soft skin…

Your sentimental sap, Alec thinks as he bends down to find Magnus’s mouth, smiling against parted lips and forgetting the pictures strewn on the desk in favor of living the real thing.

How You and Dick Get Together (Headcannons)

This can be read as a part two to my Dick Regretting Rejecting You head cannon that can be found here but its perfectly okay to be read as a stand alone. 

· Dick Grayson had been in love with you for five years now

· The crush that he thought would go away at 14 had turned into something deeper over the years

· Being his friend hadn’t been in a walk in the park, what with all the death that surrounded him

· Wally’s death had hit home and he had temporarily retired his mantle

·As did you when you retired from the superhero business last year to pursue your academic dreams of becoming a lawyer in Harvard

·Bruce was absolutely ecstatic that you wanted to pursue a higher education and had agreed to sponsor your education, even though you had saved up enough to sponsor your own first semester

·You were a really hard worker

· After Wally’s death, Dick had turned into a shell, somehow feeling responsible for the death of his friend

· Bruce saw his son’s unbecoming right in front of his eyes

· He had lost one son, he wouldn’t lose another

· So he suggested that Dick move in with you

· In Cambridge

·He had already spoken to you over the phone about it

· You were the one who suggested the idea

· Dick was sitting despondently at the steps of Wayne Manor when Bruce placed the tickets in his palm

· “Go. Be with her. She makes you happier than anyone else, and this time, don’t let her go.”

· Dick managed a weak smile

· Bruce pulled his eldest against him for a hug hoping you could fix what he had broken

· The service apartment was a 20-minute commute from college

· And although your dorm-mates were sad to see you go, you promised you’d be over as much as you can

· They didn’t mind much

· Especially after seeing Dick AKA the guy you were about to move in with

· And they teased you relentlessly

·“Just friends, huh?” suggestive smirk

·“Yes (Y/B/F/N) just friends,” you sigh before slamming your suitcase shut

· The service apartment was small, well-lit and well ventilated

· It was home before you even walked in

· Thank god it was summer of your freshman year when Dick moved in

· You were absolutely terrified when you saw Dick’s state

· The bags under his eyes were more pronounced

· He looked bloated and grey

· It was as though all his light was extinguished

·This was worse than when Jason died

· So you made him sit on the couch as you whipped up a large bowl of mac and cheese in the kitchen

· Once it was done, you place the bowl between the two of you and handed him a small black and blue plastic fork

· At least he smiled at that

· You coaxed him into talking to you

·  And he talked into the night, tears slipping through his eyes

· At some point, you ended up cuddling

· His head was on your chest and a blanket was wrapped around you as you placed soft kisses on his forehead once in a while

· He was broken, yes but you could still see the fragments of the young boy who had stolen your heart all those years ago within him

· And you were determined to bring him back

· Dick woke up the next day wrapped in your arms

· And he realised he’d not have it any other way

· He’d walk through hell in a parka if it meant waking up with you everyday

· Every day you would take him sightseeing, or just take him out in general may it be a laser tag place or a library or a circus gym

· You would go for a jog every evening and forced him to join you

· You cooked lunch and Dick would do dinner

· You spent most of your time with Dick and slowly, you could see the man healing

· His smiles were brighter and his laughs were turning back to guffaws

· He got along pretty well with your friends too

· He did notice, however, how all the guys would gravitate towards you and he couldn’t blame them

· You had looks to combat that of Aphrodite’s and a brain that could put Athena to shame

· Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?

· His only consolation was that you rejected every romantic advance

· Everything was great and Dick had finally built up the courage to ask you out officially when the call came

· “Dick, (Y/N) we need you in Gotham, now. Joker has placed fifteen bombs around Gotham. All hands-on deck”

· You intertwined your finger with his and dragged him to the roof in the dead of the night

·“Hold on, Dick”

· You said as you locked his arms around your waist and shot up with a swirl of golden energy

· Wayne manor was dead silent when you arrived

· You ran to the Batcave, suiting up immediately

·  Dick had forgotten how good you looked in your costume

· Your hair flowed out in (H/C) ringlets to your waist

· The black body fit you like a glove

· You blended into the night like a shadow  

·“You’re needed at the Bank of Gotham, Master Dick and Miss (Y/N)”

· Sirens were blaring when you arrived

·“13 bombs have been disabled. Batman and Robin are heading to the last location. Help the Bomb Disposal Squad enter Vault 11.”

· You did just that

· Commissioner Gordon was glad to have two of the less reckless vigilantes back in Gotham

· You levitated the team through the traps with one hand while you fought off Joker’s goons with the other

·  Dick was just as concentrated, rescuing civilians as you went

·  But you were too late

·  There was barely a minute left for the bomb to detonate

·  So you did what every selfless hero did

·  You sent Dick and the bomb squad out of the building with a burst of energy

·  You ignored Dick’s screams of protest

·  As soon as Dick scrambled to his feet outside the building he tried to run back inside

· But Tim grabbed his arm

· “Don’t” he said with tears in his eyes, “I can’t lose two siblings today.”

· The second he said that, the earth shuddered violently

· But the building didn’t blow up

· Everyone erupted into cheers

· And then, like a phoenix rising out of its ashes, you flew out of the building

·  Your hair was whipping in the wind and you looked like an absolute goddess

· Dick sprinted towards you, not caring if he was still Nightwing and you were still (Y/S/N)

· He was going to kiss you

· The adrenaline was pumping in his veins

· But at the last second he lost his nerve

·  And settled for a tight hug instead

·  To his surprise, Tim joined in too

· They all were a teary mess, sobbing on the road, holding each other

· Then they felt Bruce envelop them in a hug

· “You did well today”

·  When you were all back home, Alfred was fussing over you the most

·  He refused to leave your side

·  Dick too

·  He was practically coddling you

·  You were perfectly okay but you let them do it for their peace of mind

· It was midnight when Alfred left your room

· You had almost died tonight

· And it had made you realise one thing

· Life was too short

· So carpe diem motherfuckers

· So

· Without warning

· You got up from the bed

· Spun Dick around

·  And crashed your lips onto his

·  Interrupting him as he ranted on and on about the both of you being partners

· Dick froze before quickly melting into the kiss

·  His arms wrapped around your waist

· You pushed him against the wall and pressed yourself to him

· You didn’t want any gap to be left between the two of you

· Not tonight·      

“Cas.” Dean’s voice is low and dangerous, and Cas is actually trembling, staring at the ground. He’s faced armies of angels and fought his way through Hell, but nothing has ever been as terrifying as the growl in Dean’s throat at this moment. “What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do.”

Cas keeps his head bowed apologetically. “I wanted to do something nice for you.” He braves looking up slightly, sees Dean’s shaking hands, and feels that twist in his gut again.

“So you. You… What did you do?”

“I took the Impala to a car wash.”

“And you sent it through the wash. Without rolling up the windows. My car, and everything in it. Is soaked.”

Cas wonders how long Dean is going to speak in these halting, broken sentences. “I’m sorry,” he pleads. “It was an honest mistake. I truly thought I was doing something you would appreciate.”

Dean’s pinching the bridge of his nose now, silently taking deep breaths, shoulders still tense. Cas wants to reach out and rub that stress away, but he’s no longer sure he’s allowed.

And then Dean finally looks up, green eyes burning, chest heaving.

Minutes later, Cas is on his stomach in the backseat, naked, pushing his hard and aching cock into wet leather as Dean fucks into him. The whole car is damp, smelling of industrial soap, but Cas barely notices the mess he’s made.

All he’s noticing is the stretch and burn of Dean inside him. The only dampness he feels is Dean’s sweat dripping onto his back.

Dean grunts and growls into his ear about punishing him, about teaching Cas his lesson, and Cas absently thinks that this is absolutely not an effective punishment. Dean sinks his teeth into Cas’ shoulder blade and pushes even deeper, and Cas wants to run out and commit the crime all over again just to feel this over and over.

Dean’s hand smacks Cas’ ass, then curls around and underneath him to grab his dick, stroking only twice before Cas is coming, making an even bigger mess of the Impala.

“Gonna have to clean that, too,” Dean huffs, voice hoarse and broken because he’s close.

And then Cas can feel Dean coming, can feel the hot pulses as Dean curls around and into him, muscles tensing the relaxing, pushing both of them down into the wet mess Cas has made.

Dean nibbles lightly at Cas’ ear, and Cas knows he’s forgiven.

“Next time, just let me take care of the Impala,okay? Just buy me porn. Or a pie.”

Cas grins, relief adding to his orgasmic high. “Okay. I can do that.”


Moffat Appreciation Day 2016: Happily Ever After

Last year, I wrote about the overwhelming optimism that drove the characters of the Eleventh Doctor’s era to overcome dark situations that could have destroyed them, and this year I want to return to that theme having now seen the last two episodes of series 9 and how that optimism had transformed but ultimately still triumphed.

Where the Eleventh Doctor’s era could be described much like a children’s fairy tale with characters who are put into truly horrifying situations that they overcome through the power of love, the Twelfth Doctor’s era brought the darker side of those stories into focus. Love remained one of the most powerful forces in the universe, but this era explored the reality that love doesn’t always last a lifetime, even for the main characters. 

Rory and Amy left the show when their story was finished, and they lived long, happy lives, dying of old age off screen. We all know Cinderella will one day die and so will Amy Pond, but the picture book ends long before that day. When Amy Pond stopped being the Girl Who Waited, it was the beginning of the end of her time on the show, but River Song and Clara Oswald remained on the show long after the stories of ‘The Woman who Killed the Doctor” and “The Impossible Girl” had been resolved. 

And they lived until their lives were cut short in tragic, yet heroic deaths. With the direction the show had been taking in series 8 and 9, their stories could have been bleak reminders of the reality that many people die before they ever reach old age, and what we think of as happily ever after is rare (if not impossible), but instead, their endings came with an acceptance of the inevitability of death, while at the same time allowing these women to control their fate in a way we can only dream of in the real world. 

The show did not lose all of its optimism as it grew out of it’s fairy tale era, and instead of telling us that River and Clara won’t get their happily ever afters, it asked us to examine how we define happily ever after. Clara Oswald will face the raven and River Song will go to the Library, but those endings do not prevent them from having their own happily ever afters. These two characters are given the opportunity to seize the time they do have and live it the best they can so that when they die, they will have lived full lives on their own terms. Happily ever after does not mean forever. It’s a message we can all take to heart knowing that we too will not live forever. 

Clara flies off to see the universe with her new companion, and River Song spends 24 years with the man she loves (and with a vortex manipulator and a time machine, it could easily be more than 24 years). They will both die, just as we will all die, but their stories are neither tragedies nor fairy tales. Their stories are examples of what fantasy does best - addressing the harsh realities of life while allowing the characters to do the things we wish we could do, taking both time and death into their own hands.

anonymous asked:

The whole group plss LILY ❤

*sings* OH MY GOD THANKS!!!!!!

Originally posted by moos-ur-toxic



*shuffles around a bit* 
*mumbles* Hana..dul…sET


Originally posted by kimbapandkpop

Keep reading

Don’t delete all of your old writing. Some of it, yeah, if you want. But don’t delete all of it, because it’s important to see how much you’ve improved, especially on days when you feel bad about your writing. Because look how far you’ve come! You can’t give up now.

Mika still listened to Yuu in the end and gave up attacking Guren, he could have gone ahead and kill him as well as Yoichi and Kimizuki for siding Guren. Why do people call him annoying now instead of understanding that he is developing in a good way. He has gone through hell and shit can we really blame him for being obsessed over the only person he feels safe trusting?