why was this speech taken out

Daryl's sexuality and romantic life

I am one of those people who has been watching TWD from the beginning. And I’ve read Daryl as gay pretty early on. I considered it a possibility in season one simply because we didn’t have a gay character at that point and I thought Daryl may end up being gay as his sexuality was undefined (unlike everyone else). Season two was what really made me think that Daryl was gay. The episode when he’s searching for Sophia and he starts hallucinating Merle, and Merle calls him Darlene and challenges his masculinity made me really wonder. We know that Daryl was abused, and there are many reasons he could have been but the fact that he feels insecure about being seen as feminine is worth noting. We see the same thing when Merle meets Rick and calls Daryl his bitch.

So, Daryl has an abusive past, and we don’t entirely know if there were specific reasons he was abused.

Season 2-4 we see Daryl become close with two different women, but he never expresses romantic or sexual interest in either one of them. Obviously Beth is dead now, but with Carol there’s still ZERO romantic or sexual tension/chemistry between them. They’re close friends, but unlike with richonne, it doesn’t feel like their friendship is building up to anything more.

And now let’s move forward a bit to the last couple of seasons. The group moves into Alexandria. Daryl, predictably, doesn’t fit in. In fact, he only ever interacts with his own people and doesn’t make an effort to socialize with anyone from the safe zone. Oh, except for Aaron, Eric, and Denise. Obviously I understand that gay people don’t only hang out with other gay people, but it’s an interesting character choice to have Daryl bonding only with the LGBT members of ASZ and no one else.

And then we meet Jesus. The first people he interacts with are Daryl and Rick. That entire episode’s interaction is like a ridiculous post-apocalyptic meet-cute (and clearly Rick ships it😉). Fast forward one episode later, and directly after the group scene with Jesus, Abraham approaches Daryl and asks if he’s ever going to find someone to settle down with. This is HUGE. No one has ever asked Daryl about that kind of stuff. No one has ever questioned him on romantic prospects. And it’s interesting that Abraham uses a gender neutral term as opposed to saying something like “are you ever gonna find a nice woman”. The writers are drawing attention to Daryl’s romantic/sexual life. There needs to be a reason for that.

After this, Daryl and Jesus are separated for quite a while. But the first time they separate, Daryl is with Denise and Rosita and Jesus is with Tara and Gabriel. And again this is interesting because both Denise and Tara talk about their relationship and romance (Denise to Daryl and Rosita, Tara to Jesus and Gabriel). Denise make an impassioned death speech about not letting fear stop you from going after what you want and pursuing what makes you happy.

And then what? Well Daryl gets taken by Negan’s group, Jesus ends up there for reconnaissance, and stays behind to help Daryl escape. And we are specifically shown that Daryl is why Jesus stays. Like that man had his ticket out and the moment he realized Daryl was there, he is off that damn truck. Then last week, Jesus casually comes out. It was done in such an innocuous way but at least alerts audiences who may not be familiar with the comic to his preferences. And it doesn’t do so the way it does in the comic, where we are made privy to Jesus’ sexuality by meeting his boyfriend. There may be an Alex, but if so, we haven’t met him. Now this week, he and Daryl are basically attached at the hip. i’m not saying that pairing the two up on missions means that they are going to hook the characters up. But they are teaming Daryl and Jesus up at least and getting the audience used to seeing them together.

I’m not saying this means definitively that they are going to make this Canon. I have major doubts that they will. But I am saying that narrative foreshadowing is supportive of a relationship between Daryl and Jesus. The writers have now gone out of their way seven seasons in to actually draw attention to Daryl’s lack of a romantic life (via Abraham and Denise). To me something like that is only brought up if it’s going to be resolved. And my question is, who is Daryl going to be with? The only woman he has ever really shown any closeness to is Carol, but he’s never shown attraction toward her. And I find it highly unlikely that some rando woman is going to just appear and make Daryl suddenly go gaga. That really wouldn’t fit with what we know of him.

The writers may deny it, but they’ve certainly done a nice subtle job of setting up a possible Daryl/Jesus romance.

(Also a little side note about Daryl’s sexuality: I also think both Carol and Rick know, even if Daryl has never actually come out to them officially. Carol making that joke at the prison about she and Daryl hooking up and then later her bunk bed comments when they were on the road are just so winky. And with Rick there’s literally no reason for him to be all nudge nudge when it comes to Jesus.)

anonymous asked:

May I ask a question that doesn't include this one?? What do you think of the whole deal with Felix and some of his friends standing up for him, stating that he's not antisemitic and he was just joking and all of that??

i have zero sympathy for pewdiepie, or anyone who chose to defend him. even if he’s not personally antisemitic (which is.. debatable), he’s still contributing to a worrying trend of antisemitism not being taken seriously, and normalizing hateful speech towards jewish people to a fanbase of millions of young, impressionable people

Bruises (A Peter Pevensie Fanfiction)

WARNING: This story contains implied abuse. 

Also, these lovely gifs belong to @griffin-helps not me :)

The bruises on my wrists were the first thing he noticed. 

I was one of the maids for the wing where his study was located. It was very rare that I ever saw him, being it the household mistress always reminded us to clean quickly and make sure to be out before any of their majesties should decide to visit the room.

But there were always mistakes. 

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cigarettesmokeandexyracquets  asked:

Prompt, bc you're my favorite jerejean writer: "You know how sometimes the sun will be shining even when it's pouring rain? That's what kissing you is like. It's impossible sunshine Jean."

Chelsey…you are the sweetest, I cry. This took me like four different tries, but hopefully you enjoy the finished product!

It’s 11 PM and Jean has read the same sentence over 10 times. Jeremy is next to him, engrossed in his own book and none the wiser to Jean’s inner turmoil. Jean tries to shut off his brain and convince himself that everything’s fine, but it’s not and the more effort he puts into shutting out the world, the more in his head he gets and the worse his headache becomes. Eventually, he gives up pretending that he’s going to make any progress and lays the book on the night table next to his side of the bed.

Jeremy notices (of course he does- he notices everything Jean works so hard to hide) and dog ears his page, a habit Jean complains about often, but secretly finds endearing.

“You barely turned a page all night.” So he did notice. “What’s going on?”

Jean lay still for a moment before propping himself up on one elbow facing Jeremy. He sees Jeremy’s brow furrowed in concern. Ah. And there it was, the reason for Jean’s troubles. It seemed like every day Jean was confronted with how much Jeremy cared about him and every day he was perplexed. What good, what happiness could Jeremy possibly get out of dealing with his issues all day?

Jean sighs and leans forward to brush his lips against Jeremy’s forehead. “It’s nothing.”

Jeremy casts him an exasperated look. “It’s not nothing. You’re upset.”

Jean counted to 10 inside his head as he considered how he wanted to answer. Finally, he asks, “What do you get out of this?”

Jeremy moves, a bit taken aback. “Out of our relationship?”


Jeremy sits up and faces Jean fully, taking one of his hands and rolling it in his thoughtfully. “Are you asking why I love you?”

Jean didn’t know how to answer. Asking felt selfish, needy, another thing he was taking from Jeremy.

Jeremy tips Jean’s chin back up so he was looking at him. “Well…you make me laugh. Like when you gave that speech before the game last week impersonating Kevin?”

Jean nods. He doesn’t remember what inspired that, other than wanting to make Jeremy relax before a tense game.

“And you’re sweet,” Jeremy continues. “I can count on one hand the number of guys who have even remembered my birthday and you bought me those roses the other day because it was a Tuesday and you thought of me.”

Jean remembered that day. Jeremy’s smile had lit up the entire room. They currently sat in a vase in their living room where Jeremy took painstaking care of them, as he did everything else in his life.

Jeremy blushes. “And the way you kiss me- you know how sometimes the sun will be shining even when it’s pouring rain. That’s what kissing you is like. It’s impossible sunshine, Jean.”

Jean didn’t have the words to tell Jeremy just how much he loved him, so he takes Jeremy’s face in his hands and and kisses him with everything he has.

When they pull away, Jeremy laughs a little breathlessly. “Just like that. What’s my name again?”

Jean smiles and nudges him lightly before rolling them over so Jeremy is in his arms. “I love you, mon ange.”

And watching how peacefully Jeremy sleeps in his arms, he can believe, a little bit, that he’s good for Jeremy.



Here I am, innocently rewatching Phil’s speech from the BONCAs for the umpteenth time. I’m listening to the iconic “follow your dreams″ and “majority of 2016″ when all of a sudden, for the first time, I’m taken aback when Phil says “Dan Howell.” I know he says it - I was obviously expecting it - so this time around, why am I so wrapped up in the way Phil says Dan’s name? 

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t say it enough that it’s odd to hear out loud. (Which, to be honest, is probably the reason.)

Or maybe it’s because he’s not referring to danisnotonfire, web celebrity and fellow nominee, but to Dan Howell, the person behind the persona. He says “Dan Howell” - not just Dan, but the full name: Dan Howell. It’s so oddly formal, like he’s introducing him to this audience of their fans and friends and fellow creators who of course know danisnotonfire and maybe know Dan Howell. But not really, because they don’t know Dan Howell

Dan Howell, his flatmate. Dan Howell, the person with whom he’s spent the majority of 2016. Dan Howell, his partner in life.

Dan Howell, his best friend.

I know I’m over-analyzing. It’s just two words. Still, I get the same feelings all over again when not even a minute later, Dan introduces everyone to his best friend, Phil Lester.

Sparks Chapter 6

Originally posted by lovelynemesis

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: After Bucky’s night terror episode he is ashamed and avoids y/n. y/n, not liking to be ignored, makes Bucky talk things out with her. Bucky and y/n go for a walk through the park and get bubble tea and climb a tree in the middle of the night and have deep convos. They get closer as friends.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 66 pages. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.

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{fic} No Such Thing

Word Count: 2.8k
Characters: Feyre/Rhys with bonus Amren Moment™
Warnings: Character death, arguably excessive melodrama, AUishness

Over a hundred thousand lives, it is always them. It always will be them. 

Eventually, they figure it out.


Here is a story: there is always a girl named Feyre, and there is always a boy named Rhys.

A thousand lives spin by, a kaleidoscope of worlds and ages and eras and love and loss and almosts: they grow up together, fall in love, marry, have children, live out their lives on a farm. Or they do not grow up together, and she is ordered to marry him to salvage her family’s name; she hates him, until she doesn’t. Or they don’t know each other at all: he has been pulled off the battlefield, the shrapnel wound in his chest infected beyond hope, and she is a nurse whose heart beats fast when she sees him; everyone knew he would die, she can’t explain why she is so affected by a man she never even spoke to. Or it’s her that dies, taken in the night by a plague that wipes out a quarter of the city, not a year after their wedding.

One way or another, they always find each other.

They have been married thousands of times, in thousands of ways. There have been innumerable ribbons bound around their hands, endless amounts of ceremonial wine drunk, countless vows and speeches and whispered declarations. And, of course, there are thousands of times they do not marry. Sometimes the world they are in does not call for it. Sometimes one of them is wed already, and their story can only end in tragedy. Sometimes they only brush past each other, leaving a strange ache in their absence. Sometimes they are artists, sometimes warriors, sometimes bankers and baristas and kings and queens and doctors and thieves and magicians and clerics and captains and chefs. They are often human, but not always. There is no constant but them.

One way or another, they always lose each other.


There always seem to be things that know, on the edges. Just out of sight. Things that are old the way time itself is old, who see them for what they are: heavenly bodies with no choice but to orbit each other, again and again, planets caught in each others gravitational pull to play out the same cycle across millennia. The strange things with glinting eyes: bone carvers and strange old women and spirits summoned from other realms. They never say anything, never reveal what they know in any way but in the twists of their mouths.


It is in the lifetime that they are High Fae that they figure it out.

It has taken them a long, long time; at least several hundred lives, by Rhys’s eventual count. But they’ve had hundreds and hundreds of years in this life to tease the threads together, heightened senses and endless resources at their disposal, a connection that allows the sharing of ephemeral thoughts that can’t be put into words. They are not always so lucky.

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justsomewhump  asked:

So you mentioned humiliation... Likes/dislikes about it?

Sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to this, my dear friend. I wanted to give it a nice, thorough answer, and I’m just slow in general, lol. Also, forgive me for both the length of this post and its tendency to read like a magnum opus of humiliation instead of a direct answer to you. It… uh… kinda turned into a magnum opus of humiliation somewhere around the cut. *cough* :D

I loooove humiliation. Done well, it can push all kinds of buttons for me that I absolutely love. Of course, it’s also easy to get completely wrong and end up being all weird. Too often, mainstream TV shows do it wrong because they don’t take it far enough to actually fuck someone’s head up and it ends up in some weird quasi-embarrassing situation that’s more likely to cause second-hand embarrassment than push any good buttons. Ew.

But then, humiliation is largely subjective. It all depends on the character’s psyche and the viewer’s own views on the situation at hand. Something that might humiliate one character might do nothing for another… and it doesn’t matter how good the scenario is if it doesn’t appeal to the viewer watching it.

I’ll start out with light stuff I like, then put the more intense stuff behind a cut. Also, please keep in mind, absolutely nothing in this post should ever be done to a non-consenting individual in real life! But in fiction, well, have at it ;)

I love it when male characters are talked down to - particularly by women. It’s the Domme in me poking her head out ;) I just love when women refer to men as objects, talk about them like they’re not standing right there, call them names, refer to them as a pet, a slave, an “it”. Oh, I love that stuff.

I also love men on their knees. It’s such a subservient position, and men in particular take great offense when forced into that position by their adversaries. That, of course, makes it delightful to me. Again, I really like it when a woman’s the one forcing a man to his knees, but I’ll take whatever I can get. I just love a reluctantly kneeling man ;)

Name calling in general is hit or miss. Random insults, like “jackass” don’t do too much for me. Names picked specifically to needle at someone’s insecurities are good, like if someone was calling Killian “slave” - which would likely bother him after having grown up as one and undoubtedly being called it derisively in the past. In general, I like it when men are called “boy” - especially by other men, making it even more of an assault on their masculinity.

Because, really, that’s what humiliation is all about for me - dismantling and assaulting an individual’s very sense of self. Finding the things they take pride in and just annihilating them through word and deed, as well as finding the things they’re sensitive about and jumping on them like a trampoline. You can’t just dress a character up in a stupid clown costume and have people laugh at them. That’s… just weird and totally unsatisfying to me.

Which isn’t to say some of the humiliation scenes I’m into aren’t weird… Some of them are very weird, and you should only click the link below if you want to see just how weird these things can get…

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anonymous asked:

Not hating, but I am honestly curious why you see potential in rivamika as a ship that would work, because in the anime/manga, most of the time I feel like everything Mikasa does is for Eren (especially in the anime, most of her lines are seriously just some variation of 'Eren'), just as how everything Levi does is for Erwin. And their interactions actually mostly revolve around saving Eren. I can't see them stop thinking of Eren/Erwn long enough to even notice each other tbh.

There’s actually a lot of reasons why, actually. Please note that I’m going to discuss why I think rivamika has potential, but I’m not trying to prove they have any romantic potential because I don’t personally think they do due to the theme and circumstances of the canon story (AUs/UAs are another story). However, there’s quite a lot of evidence that supports the ship. Maybe it won’t be enough to convince you, but it was enough for me and many other rivamika shippers.

Honestly, this fandom (and many others) have paired characters together with much, much less potential so I don’t know why so many people think rivamika doesn’t meet “shipping requirements.” I mean, part of the fun of shipping is being creative and match-making characters you personally think would make a cute couple. Hell, I even ship characters that barely/never interacted before because I think their personalities match up well and I like to imagine the possibilities. This is why I’ll never understand why fans these days have to explain themselves and provide proof, but meh. I got nothing better to do lol. 

I also want to note that I was fascinated by Mikasa and Levi’s relationship/parallels before I started to ship them–that was more of an aftereffect and a way to express my love for them. In other words, I’m capable of being unbiased while discussing their relationship :)

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There’s no one else for you (reader x sherlock break up fic)

First off I’m sorry, you probably were waiting for Even I Do Mistakes part three, it’s next, but I just really needed to make this, yes, I got this idea from Big Bang Theory.

Summary: Sherlock and reader have broken up. Sherlock is with John on a crime scene when suddenly the conversation sidetracks on Sherlock’s breakup with reader which escalates on Anderson starting plan on asking reader out. Sherlock is shocked for in his mind it’s unacceptable for Anderson (or anyone altogether) to make a move on reader.

Lestrade stood close to the East wall, near the door. He’s shoes were shielded with plastic wrap so he wouldn’t make a mess of the crime scene in front of him. His hands were stuffed in his long coat’s pockets, his fingers playing with the old bill from last weeks visit to his favorite restaurant. It wasn’t that he favored the note, he had simply forgotten the paper in his pocket as he had left the restaurant in a hurry back then.

The man stood still, he watched as his colleagues collected all the evidence from the room and around the now empty house. There lived a couple, the man lay in the middle of the room, making the scene look overdramatic in front of every witness eyes. The man’s girlfriend had found him dead and murdered and she had been taken to hospital. Poor girl. She had fell in shock at the sight of this dead bloody mess.

Sherlock and John arrived late. Lestrade of course skipped questioning why they took so long to get there and went to explain what had happened, or what they had been told of. Sherlock went straight to the case and study the body while John and Lestrade stood aside and discussed about the dead man’s family and friends.

”So the girlfriend found him?” John confirmed. As a doctor he wanted at times to make sure the close ones of the victims were given treatment they needed after hearing the horrible news.

”Yeah, poor girl could bare speak when she was finally fetched out of here.” Lestrade sighed sadly and looked down on the body.

To not so everyone surprise Sherlock sneered. With a nasty smirk he kept studying the body, clearly having his own opinion on the ’poor girl’.

”What?” Lestrade scoffed, his eyebrows twitching. He gazed at the kneeling detective over John’s shoulder who stood his back facing his colleague.

Sherlock’s smirk fell and he gave Lestrade a short glance. ”Well, the poor girl clearly had to be very weak from the mind or” Sherlock stood up and turned to face John and Lestrade. ”she is lying.”

Sherlock explained what he had figured out and while giving his sentence he kept reminding Lestrade how he hated these kinds of easy cases and how disappointed he was that Greg hadn’t figure something as simple as this out on his own. John tried to comfort Lestrade as good as he could but actually couldn’t make things any better.

Then and there you walked in, a carton cup of coffee in your left hand and in the other holding your phone. When you saw Sherlock your face froze for a second but as fast as it appeared it was off and forgotten. You knew sooner or later you would have to face him so you tried to suck it up.

”Here’s your coffee, Greg.” You made sure to call Lestrade by his first name, which Sherlock always happened to forget and gave the police a warm smile and the warm cup. ”Evening, John. How have you been?” You added with the smile still on your face.

”I’m good.” John smiled back at you. ”It’s been awhile since I saw you. How are you?” You almost smirked, feeling tiny bit bad for not trying to see John since, well, the last time you saw him. You sifted your weight. ”I’m good. Just a bit busy with work and… People.” And with that you left saying nothing more.

Sherlock had followed your every move and tone in your voice, how your body tensed at times but not your expression, since you had turned your back to him the second you gave ’Greg’ his coffee.

”What was that all about?” Greg asked from John and Sherlock.

”They broke up.”

Sherlock looked down on John, his brows high but soon went back to examine the body he had already checked.

”You broke up?” Lestrade almost yelled finally moving from his spot.

”Well, that is what John just said, wasn’t it?” Sherlock sassed angrily.

”But why?” Lestrade questioned.

”Oh I don’t know, why do two people break up?” Sherlock added sarcastically, clearly not into talking about this.

”Actually, she left you.” John reminded with a badly hidden smirk.

”You two broke up?” Anderson who had just entered the room blurted. Sherlock gave out a long and loud sigh or more of a grunt and rolled his eyes.

”If everyone needs to know. Yes. We broke up!” Sherlock snapped, fast on his feet and fuming. ”Why is it suddenly so interesting? Go all ask her out while you’re at it!” The room fell silent, John smirking at the sight of Sherlock finally giving signs of desperation of the loss of his partner while Lestrade just starred, eyes wide. Anderson on the other hand stood silent, with no expression at all, but soon hummed in agreement and said. ”Don’t mind if I do.” Sherlock turned to look at Anderson in shock and with that Anderson turned and left.

Sherlock turned his face to John with the shock still visible on his facial expression. He looked at his friend pleadingly, like asking for John to say something, anything to stop Anderson. But John only shrugged his shoulders telling him he could do nothing. ”But-” Sherlock started which John cut short. ”No, Sherlock.”

”But he can’t just go ask her out!” He tried to reason with his slightly shorter friend.

”Why can’t he?” John let Sherlock try and guess where he was going at with his speech. ”She’s single, he’s interested. There is nothing to stop him from asking her out.”

Sherlock tried in despair to come up with something, gasping for air dramatically, his eyes wondering around the room. When he finally came up with his excuse, which wasn’t that good though, John was ready to shoot him down.

”But we just broke up!”

”It’s been almost a month.”

”Oh.” Sherlock was slightly taken aback. ”Time really flies by.”

”Yes, it does. And back to the subject, (Y/n) will fly too if you won’t do anything.” John had crossed his arms and was standing a feet away from Sherlock. They stared at each other before Sherlock had to ask ”Is it that obvious?”


Sherlock made a face, not sure how to cope with the situation. He looked at John, surely about to ask another stupid and obvious question.

”Should I go after-”

”Yes!” John snapped and Sherlock was out of the room in a blink of an eye leaving John with Lestrade who had been forgotten for the past few minutes.

”You know, you’re not as stupid as everyone seems to think you are.” Lestrade admitted and turned to leave.

No Son of Theirs (part 2)

Fandom: Harry Potter (Marauders)

Word count: 1331

Characters: Sirius x reader, James and sister!reader

Warnings: asshole parents, slight swearing

Summary: Part 2 to No Son of Theirs. When Sirius’s mum turns up at the reader’s home, she gets an opportunity to shout at her. Part 3  3.5 (drabble)  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

“Damnit, James!” Sirius cursed as the cards exploded beneath his hand. “How do you always do that? I swear you know which cards are coming up.”

“Nah, I’m just awesome at this game. Like I am at everything,” James shot back, grinning smugly. “What can I say, mate? You’re just not as good at me.”

Sirius gave him the finger. Then he turned to you. You were sat cross-legged on the sofa, a fond grin taking up half your face as you watched them. “Back me up, would you, Y/N? I swear he’s cheating.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I did tell you that you were never gonna win. Can’t blame me because you didn’t listen.”

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SNSD Reaction to: Their GF Getting Raped & Murdered

warning; not exactly a happy theme so if this kind of thing triggers you, don’t read it! cheer yourself up by looking at my other, less upsetting reactions :)

Taeyeon: initially can’t handle her emotions. she locks herself away, crying her heart out, with only her cat for company. this carries on for weeks until she feels strong enough to pull herself together. she already struggles with internal demons (imo) so while she may now go outside, that doesn’t mean she’s happy, or that she can even fake a smile

Originally posted by aprils-end

Jessica: often finds herself spending hours at a time doing your favourite hobby; star gazing. this is how she connects with you, looking up at the night sky and wondering which twinkling star was you, looking down at her. she even decides to name her fans ‘golden stars’ in honour of your passing

Originally posted by ssooyeon

Sunny: channels her pain into her other love; music

Originally posted by soonkyu-ss

Tiffany: first her mom, now you. despite the heartache, she still finds the strength within herself to carry on and to smile. she does this by remembering the life you lived, the love you shared. and not focusing on the tragic way this was all ended

Originally posted by fanytastic801

Hyoyeon: dances to distract herself from the memory of having to identify your body, of seeing you broken and cold on that metal slab. but no matter how hard she tries, the image is forever ingrained in her mind. and she finds life harder to life, without her other half

Originally posted by candyeon

Yuri: feels disgusted and jealous every time she sees happy couples. she wonders why her love had to be shattered so brutally, yet these brain dead teens could sloppily make-out in public with no worries. decides to concentrate this anger into making sure your murderer/rapist pays, as a way of finding closure to your death

Originally posted by stephonthec

Sooyoung: makes an emotional speech during one of snsd’s concerts, coming clean to the fans about why she’s been so upset lately. “I never wanted to portray this image to you, to make you think I no longer love you. because I do and always will. but one such person I love has been taken away from me and now I find it harder to smile, even for sones. I’m sorry.” feels responsible somehow and heavily relies on the girls and sones support to move on

Originally posted by sooyoungss

Yoona: can’t understand how someone could do something so heinous to another human being, especially you, the love of her life. lays awake at night pondering this

Originally posted by la-rosa-del-sur

Seohyun: immerses herself in her work, trying to forget the pain. but that doesn’t help close the wound, that’s still open and throbbing in pain. she doesn’t want to bother her unnies with this so she keeps all her thoughts to herself, internalizing everything until one day she cracks

Originally posted by eternallynine

The Feeling.

Originally posted by aubameyang

In any other instance, the Alcântara household would be bustling with laughs, jokes and general chatter. Tonight? Not so much and what was worse was it was supposed to be a joyous holiday night. Gifts had been exchanged earlier in the day and there were plenty of bright lights and decorations around the home to put a smile on anyone’s face. Add in a good dinner and the environment should have been much different but it wasn’t.

I had never been around Rafinha’s family before today, excluding Thiago, so this was not how I wanted our first meeting to go. I had managed to smile my way through the first few hours but now I just seemed to let the annoyance brewing within me take over from the outside in. I grew silent at the dinner table and it seemed everyone else just seemed to do the same.

Rafa’s mother looked quietly about the table as if deciding whether she was going to speak or not. Eventually she cleared her throat and did. “Is there a reason everyone is so quiet? Is the food not good?”

Immediately everyone broke out into disagreement with her question, insisting that the food was delicious in which it was. If I hadn’t been in such a terrible mood, I would have been quick to let her know that in between bites.

“So if the food is fine, why is everyone so quiet?”

Again, the table grew uncomfortably silent, everyone deflecting the question so they wouldn’t have to be the one to answer by looking down at their food and pretending to be too busy deciding the portion of meat to put on their fork than to speak.

“Awkward,” Thiago sang out lowly as he dug his fork into his plate. I could see from the corner of my eye as I did the same that Rafa had shot him a discreet glare. If there was anyone else in the room who knew what was going on, it was him.

The silence continued on for a few more moments though Thiago at least tried to stir up some conversation. As I finished up a few more scoops of my food, I decided to excuse myself from the table. It wasn’t so much of a request as it was me standing to my feet and stating I would be back soon. How soon was soon I wasn’t sure but I quickly left the eyes that followed me and headed towards the front door of the home, grabbing the car keys before I exited.

I quickly unlocked the vehicle and headed for the driver’s side door to slide in. I didn’t bother turning on the car or even turning on anything as I sat in silence. The silence was very very brief.

“What are you doing?” I could hear Rafinha say from the other side of the car, quickly grabbing onto the passenger side’s door handle and letting himself inside.

Stupid me to not lock it.

“I needed some time to myself if you don’t mind.”

That wasn’t enough to get Rafa out of the car. He instead stayed put in his seat, angling his body so that he was facing me. “What is it now?” He took my face gently into one of his hands though I quickly pushed it down in protest. “Do you really want to go over the entire situation one more time?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised to know that was the reason I was annoyed but he reacted as such anyway, sighing and sinking against his seat before mumbling something I didn’t bother trying to comprehend under his breath.

“What do you want me to say? Or do? Apologize? I’ve done that so many times. I’m sorry this happened and I’m especially sorry this all had to happen literally the day you meet my family. We should have told you. I should have told you but…I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

Wasn’t thinking that I should know that he had dated my best friend. Wasn’t thinking that I would eventually find out.

It was the last thing I had expected, to get a call from my best friend with her sounding as if she was about to have a nervous breakdown before she spent the next 20 minutes talking faster than her brain could process and stating how she hadn’t meant to hurt me by hiding this but that she had once pursued Rafinha romantically.

Rafa had been apologizing since.

“It was forever ago. It literally meant nothing.”

It was hard for me to believe that. I was sure there would be some people who agreed with my reaction and others who felt I was overreacting but I guess I was the type that liked to claim things for myself. I didn’t want to think that my best friend had once been involved with the man I was now calling mine and sure, there was time since and she had moved on to someone else but I couldn’t help but think about the times in the future where they would be in the same room together. When they’d be able to just look at each other and know there was once a time it was supposed to be them together and not me and Rafa instead.

“Did it?”

“It was three or four years ago and we dated for like two months! You two didn’t even know each other back then!” Rafa had been spending every hour it seemed trying to rationalize his thought process behind hiding the truth from me. I tried to be understanding and think that maybe he had good intentions but of course I just couldn’t get over the facts behind the whole thing. “We never had sex. It was like a quick fling. A quick crush. Look, I’m sorry and I will continue to apologize until you forgive me but just know that there is nothing between me and her. Our relationship or whatever you want to call it ended and so did we.”

“How am I supposed to not feel weird when we’re all in a room together and she’s able to say she dated you too?”

“I doubt she’d just say that. I doubt she even considers what we had something worth remembering.”

And I had a hard time believing that considering the way Rafinha treated me. Any woman would have loved to call him theirs at one point especially with the way he treated the ones that mattered. My mind had been processing the image of them together since, envisioning them going out on dates, kissing and smiling in each other’s faces as I had done with him so many times. “I don’t believe that.”

He groaned. “You’re letting your pride dictate your reaction to everything.”

By now, my tone was stepping up a few notches. “Rafa, what do you want me to say? Huh? That it’s okay that you used to date my best friend and then hid it from me? Huh? Is that what you want me to say? Because I won’t. I will say that I am five minutes from telling your family that I want to leave and I’m sorry for wasting their time. That’s what I want to say.”

I expected for him to say something or at least show some form of emotion on his face. Instead he sat in silence for a few seconds before reaching for the door and letting himself out of the car. My eyes followed him confused. “What are you doing?”

My calling after him was ignored as he instead continued his walk back towards his parents’ home. I thought to get up from my seat and follow him but instead remained where I was and thankfully I did because soon enough, Rafa was returning.

I expected it was to chew me out, to yell and scream about how dramatic I was being but as soon as he got back into the car he simply handed over his phone. “What is this for?” I looked down towards it and then to him.

“Just read the messages.”

I thought to ask another question but instead snapped my mouth shut and stared down towards the opened conversation. I looked to the name first to see it was a conversation thread with his mother.

>> So you’re really bringing her to dinner? This girl must be special

<< She is…

>> How special are we talking?
>> Because I need to know exactly what to expect

<< Like possible daughter-in-law special?
<< Maybe
<< Don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want to scare her

>> Well I’m excited to meet my possible future daughter-in-law!
>> And I won’t tell her a thing. Love u

I wanted to speak but for a moment I couldn’t. I just dropped the phone back into his hands and stared straight ahead. I had never thought that Rafinha talked about me as that message showed. Sure, I’m sure he had mentioned to his mother some things about me but the possibility of marriage? Me being special? That had never entered our conversations.

“And you want to end that? You want to break my heart because of that? Because your pride says me having a meaningless relationship with someone in your circle years and years ago no longer makes me worth anything?”

“I never said you weren’t worth anything. I just…I’m selfish. I can admit that. I’m a girl who likes to claim things for herself and the thought of having shared you just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You never shared me! That’s the thing. I’m not trying to dismiss your anger or say this isn’t an awkward situation but the last thing I want to do is lose you over this. I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve taken the extra step to show you mean a lot to me by introducing you to my family. You’re not just some temporary relationship to me.”

His sudden stop in speech must have been due to him noticing my tears that I was quietly trying to wipe away. I could hear him slightly chuckle, reaching his hand out to wipe his fingers delicately against my moist cheek. “Stop that.”

“I can’t. I didn’t know you felt that seriously about me.”

“I do which is why I wanted you here. I’m sorry for not telling you. I just didn’t want you to look at that as a reason to end things.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yeah. I just needed to buy myself time so that when I did tell you, you were so in love with me you couldn’t leave me for a reason like that.”

I tried to stop the smile form spreading on my face but couldn’t, lightly shoving Rafinha’s chest playfully which caused him to laugh. He grabbed onto my wrists with both hands, placing a kiss to each. “Can we head back inside now?”

“We can,” I nodded. He took a moment to kiss my lips, letting his linger on mine for a moment longer before separating and getting out of the car to lead the way back into the home that I assumed would now be a little more talkative. Though I knew our conversation wasn’t over and our dilemma wasn’t technically solved, I had at least taken the first step of accepting what was the past.

gif credit to @aubameyang

Beloved Daughter - Markiplier Imagine

“How are my gorgeous girls doing?” Mark says as he walks into the living room.

Mark sat down next to our daughter, Claire. She looked up at her father and smiles. Claire turns her attention back to the screen, we are watching Will Wonka & the Chocolate Factory one of my favorite movies. Mark leans down and kisses Claire on the top of her head, smiling down at her.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” I say looking over to my husband.

“I was thinking we could go to the zoo,” Mark says turning his attention toward me.

“That’s a good idea,” I say with a smile. I look down to Claire. “Sweetie, do you want to do to the zoo tomorrow?”

She nods her head with a huge grin on her face. I smile down at my adorable daughter. Claire is extremely dear to me, she’s my only child. Mark is very over protective of her because our daughter is mute. We’ve taken her to a few different doctors and speech therapists to find out why she’s a mute but go no answers. Even though my doughtier does not speak I still lover her with all my heart.

“It should be fun,” Mark says with a smile.

Claire looks at Mark again and moves over so that she is sitting on his lap. Mark wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. I smile at the sight, they’re my world. I reach over picking up my phone.I open the camera and take a picture of the two of them. I smile at it and post it on Instagram.

“Y/N,” Mark says looking over at me, “I love you.”

“I love you too Mark,” I say back to him. I scoot over closer to him and softly kiss his lips. “I should get started on dinner,” I say standing up from the couch.

I walk into the kitchen and starting making chicken nuggets and fries for dinner, Claire’s favorite. I start cooking but then here the faint sound of giggling coming from the living room. I smile to myself loving the sweet sound.

“Dinner’s ready,” I call out as I set the plates of food on the table.

Mark and Claire walk into the dining room hand in hand. Both sit down at the table, smiling at the food before them. Claire especially looked happy. I couldn’t help but smile myself. How did I get so lucky to have such a wonderful little family?

Once we had finished eating Mark took Claire upstairs to get her ready for bed while I clean up. Claire is such a daddy’s girl. Mark always looks at her so lovingly and it so protective of her. Mark has always wanted to make sure that she is happy but isn’t treated differently just because she’s mute. I hope that one day she will be able to talk, I know that when she does she’ll probably become pretty talkative just like her father.

I walk upstairs to Claire’s room. She was tucked in bed wearing her pink pajamas. Mark is seated next to her bed reading to her. I lean against the door frame looking at the two of them, not wanting to interrupt. Mark soon finishes, kissing Claire’s forehead and turning on her nightlight. He walks toward me and softly pecks my lips.

“Claire, if you need anything tonight don’t hesitate to come get us okay?” I say looking at my beautiful daughter.

She nods her head smiling at us. She snuggles into her bed, cuddling her Stitch stuffed animal. I smile at her and turn off her bedroom light. Mark and walk toward our room, his arm wrapped around my waist. We enter our bedroom, turning on the light. I walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of shorts.

“Can I have one of your t-shirts?” I ask Mark sweetly.

“Oh course you can my beautiful wife,” he says to me with a chuckle.

Mark pulls out a t-shirt from his dresser handing it to me. I smile to him and kiss him on the cheek. I change into the shorts and t-shirt, feeling comfortable in my husbands shirt. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth. Mark walks in after me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

“I love you Y/N,” he says kissing my cheek.

I spit out the tooth paste and rinse my mouth. I turn around to face Mark. I wrap my arms around his neck, smiling up at him. His arms go back around my waist pulling me close to him. Marks eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips. He leans down to me and presses his lips on mine. The kiss is full of love and passion.

“I love you too, Mark,” I say parting from his lips.

“Let’s go to bed, shall we,” Mark says to me tapping my nose.

I giggle at him and follow him back into the bedroom. Mark turns on the lamp on the bedside table then moves to the door to turn off the light. I get onto the bed and under the covers. Mark does the same. We lay there facing each other. Mark wraps his arm around my waist pulling me close. I snuggle into his chest, feeling warm and secure. Mark shifts his body turning off the light.

“Goodnight, Mark,” I whisper in the dark.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers back kissing my forehead.

Suddenly I hear faint crying coming down from the hallway. I sit up trying to listen closer. I hear the pitter patter sound of running down the hallway. I turn on the lamp on my side of the bed. I look at the doorway to see my daughter standing there. Her cheeks are stained with tears, she clutches Stitch close to her.

“Come here my love,” I say to her.

She walks over to my side of the bed. I reach down and pick her up setting her between Mark and I. Mark slowly sits up and kisses Claire on the top of her head. I wrap my arm around Claire’s small body, I move the hair from her face.

“Did you have a nightmare sweetie,” Mark says to her a bit concerned. She nods her head looking down at her feet.

“I’m sorry Claire. You can sleep here tonight, Daddy and I will protect you,” I say kissing her chubby cheek.

She nods her head looking up at me. I wipe the tears from her eyes. She and Mark lay down on the bed. I lean over, turning off the light. I lay back down on the soft mattress. Both Mark and I each wrap an arm around Claire to show her that we’re here. Soon, the three of us fall asleep. I dream of my loving husband, beautiful daughter, and how lucky I am to have them both.

Hireath -part 4 - Daddy!CEO!Luke:

A/n: Here it is! I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous to post anything before :’) I apologize beforehand if this isn’t as good or satisfying I guess IDK but I had some really nice messages about the last part I don’t want this one to flop ok I’ll stahp talking now ^-^ 

Word count: 3.4k 

Plot:  A divorce is not so easy to go through when your lingering feels and son keep getting in the way.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 

Originally posted by lipringsandsnapbacks

The most beautiful things came out of your mouth, Luke had thought. 

Luke had always found himself mesmerized by the beautiful way words seemed to flow out your mouth. It had probably been one of the first things to have drawn him towards you. It didn’t really matter what you were saying; whether it be a casual greeting, scolding words whenever he let his coffee get too cold, hushed giggles shared in his office as you’d visit him during his breaks, or even just sleepy whispers of his name as he’d slip into the bed late at night. Luke loved it all, cherished it all. He was utterly weak when it came to your words, unable to decline any request that rolled off your lips.

The most memorable words Luke had heard were spoken by none other than you. The bashful sure you had given as an answer to his date preposition back in college. The loud, tearful yes you had screamed the moment he had gotten down on his knee, a diamond ring peeking through the velvet box; the same ring you had worn for years after. The whispered, and slightly scared, announcement of your pregnancy, your eyes seeking comfort and alleviation from him. The hushed whispers directed towards your swollen belly late at night, the loving words making his heart swell with love.

The most beautiful things came out of your mouth, Luke had thought.

And yet, there you were, throwing out words he could describe as many things; beautiful not being one.

He couldn’t make sense of where your words had come from. He was absolutely sure that you were both on good terms, amazing even. You had been texting every now and then ever since that weekend, your conversations becoming somewhat friendly and relaxed. He couldn’t tell what went wrong; and it felt like being handed the divorce papers all over again, the same oblivious, confused shock taking over him.

Luke licked his dry lips, his breathing ragged and uneven. He slowly moved around his office, reaching out to close his office door, warning the rest of the employees that no disturbance would be tolerated. His motions were slow, careful, calculated; he feared that any wrong move would tick you off, that any rushed decision would make you storm out and he’d only know about you through your lawyers.

You kept your gaze fixed on the wooden flooring, very well aware of his movements around the office. Looking at him was a hard task itself; how could you bare to look at the man who held your loving heart in his hands; the man who, just minutes ago, decided that your heart no longer fitted in his hands, leaving it to bleed love all over the ground instead.

“Wait! W-wait, hold up!” Luke finally broke the choking silence, still standing a few safe feet from where you stood. His words were barely audible due to the obvious shakiness in his voice. “C-can you at least sit down?”

“No!” You immediately fired back, an ache rising in your throat as you remembered the previous events.

“I want you to sign them luke! For fuck’s sake! What’re you trying to earn from this?” You groaned, wincing when your voice broke at the end of your words. Luke’s eyes anxiously studied your behavior, looking almost scared at your words. But you had already started, determined to let it all out.

“Honestly, I don’t see why you keep stringing me along if you’re just planning on fucking around with other people!” Your voice was dry, the words bitterly leaving your mouth. The frustration of being neither married nor divorced had taken over your heart, the effect clear in your words. 

Luke’s eyes went as wide as saucers, his eyebrows knitting at your words. But you didn’t pay it much attention, still determined to follow through with your speech; “If you’d just spare my dignity an-”

What the fuck did you just say? ” Luke barked, cutting off your words, his expression somber and grave. You involontarily flinched back at the harsh tone of his voice, pressing your mouth into a thin line as you debated on your next action.

“(y/n),” He began again, mildly calmer, seeing as you didn’t give out any reaction. Not only was he livid that such words had even come out of your mouth, but Luke couldn’t possibly deny the hurt nesting inside his chest. After loving you for years will all of his heart, having you accuse him of infidelity wasn’t something he could handle well. 

“I’m not fucking around with anyone!”

“Oh! Is that so?” You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped your mouth, amazed by how he could convincingly lie to your face. But as your mouth shrunk back into a tight line, you realized that arguing over his affairs wasn’t a conversation you were thrilled to have.

“Fine,” you settled, earning a growl from Luke. Of course the tone of your voice inclined that no, it’s not fine at all, and no, I’m not believing your words. “But I want my divorce papers signed and handed to my lawyer.” You ever so calmly added.

Everything went in slow motion in Luke’s mind; watching you turn around at your last words and heading towards the door; seeing his hand shoot out to catch yours and turn you around; the sudden way you retracted your arm from his grasp is if it were burning under his skin. Luke’s hands immediately let go at your reaction, hurt prominent in his eyes. Still, he opted for raising his hands up as if defeated, his body slowly moving to block your exit. 

“Hey! Hey, don’t go-”

“Luke, don’t!” You warned him. And for the first time since you barged in, the tiredness in your voice and the painful look in your eyes were clear as the sunlight for Luke to see. And that nearly stopped him.

“(y/n), if you’d just listen -”

“There’s nothing to listen to or talk about, Luke! We’ve alrea-”

For fuck’s sake (y/n)! ” 

This second outburst was much more shaking, his voice booming through the office and probably reaching the employees’ curious ears. Luke’s eyes were wild,shaken, scared. His ragged breathing was matching his frantic heart and running thoughts, trying to get his head together, before he decided that -consequences be damned- he wasn’t holding anything back.

“I’m not fucking anyone! And I’m not signing those damn papers because -fuck it- I’m still in love with you!”

Silence reigned over the closed room at the impact of his words. Colour drained from his face at the realization of what had slipped past his mouth. Feeling suddenly bare in front of your gaze, his hand mecanically rose to tug at his hair.

Luke nearly smiled at the memory of how lovingly you had always replied to his ‘I love you’s’. Somehow, even when you were absolutely livid and angry with him, you always manage to make it sound like the most honest thing in the world. Luke frowned instead. Expecting that from you would be pushing his luck past any reasonable boundaries. Luke took one last silent gaze at your face, with a heavy heart that’s fully expecting to be broken.

But you didn’t run off as he expected you to. You didn’t walk out of his office and stomp all over his heart. No, you just silently stared at him with something he couldn’t exactly decipher. But if he was to look deep enough, he would’ve figured out that your eyes were filled with wavering hope and striking fear. And so, Luke took your silence as a chance for him to speak, a whole lot calmer than the previous time.

“(y/n), baby I haven’t so much as looked at anyone else ever since we’ve been together.” Luke took one hopeful step towards you, agony painting the lovely blue of his eyes a shade of cloudy grey. His voice broke into a fragile tone even he couldn’t recognize, “Please , don’t make me sign those papers.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. Even with the undeniable truth dripping from his words, it felt impossible to forget the events your eyes had witnessed.

“Wh-what about-” you stuttered, blinking rapidly. The confused expression that immediately appeared on his face made you feel like a silly child stubbornly claiming that their nightmare was real. But you pushed through it, averting your eyes from him, “What about the-? She- I saw you two-”

Luke inhaled sharply at your words, his teech clenched tightly together. Out of every unfortunate event that could’ve occurred, you just had to witness that one scene that could easily be misinterpreted. 

“I pushed her off, alright?” He breathed out, running a rough hand through his blonde locks.

Frustration was the only feeling Luke could recognize at the moment. Words weren’t much, he knew. Words were deceiving, devoid, empty. And still, he was hoping you’d trust his words for the simple reason that they had come out of his mouth.

“I didn’t do anything. Baby, believe me I didn’t and wouldn’t have done a thing.” He countered back, his eyebrows knitted together. “Please believe that I wouldn’t.”

Luke took one bold step towards you, daring to lift his hand up to tilt your head up, his eyes seeking yours. The look on his face made your stomach drop. It wasn’t a look you’d normally see on the major CEO; one of utter vulnerability and defenselessness. One that made him look like the shy boy you had met in class; like the man who held your heart delicately in his hands and cared for it throughout the years.

“Please don’t make me sign those papers,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. His breath fanned over your face at the proximity, waves of his scent hitting you and clouding your thoughts. But reality wasn’t as forgiving as you would’ve liked it to be.

“There’s a reason those papers were filed, Luke.” You sighed, freeing your jaw from his grip.

“I know,” Luke answered all too calmly, as if he was aware of it and couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to, “but there’s a reason they’re not signed yet” he argued.

“Come on, (y/n)” Luke cooed, sensing your hesitation, keeping his voice soft and tender “We can talk this through, I’m willing to try, baby.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” you mumbled with a shake of your head. 

The memories of the past kept nudging at the back of your mind, making you relive the helplessness and the doubt. And as draining as it was to admit it, Luke had a history of falling back to his old habits. You feared it would once again end up the same. And just like that, the little spark of hope that the key had brought into you died out.

Your mind drifted back to the key, still safely tucked inside your pocket. For some reason, you hadn’t thrown it at his face the minute you barged in, and you still weren’t handing it to his as you spoke. Its weight suddenly felt as heavy as rock hidden inside your pocket, making you take a seat down as you realized that you had no idea what to do.

What’s the right thing to do?

“No,” Luke’s calm reply made you look up, finding that he was slowly approaching you. He crouched down in front of you, his hands delicately resting on the seat at each side of your thighs. “No, you talked, I listened . I only did so because I believed I was doing what’s best for you and for Jace.”

Emotions bubbled inside of you, making your throat tighten at his words. Once again, he was confessing in more ways than you could handle, making your heart twist with both guilt and glee. It took all of your strength to keep your hands from resting on his cheeks, to stop yourself from falling into him and getting swallowed by his limbs.

“But,” He whispered, leaning in a little closer, his eyes never once leaving yours, “Tell me and I’ll stop. Tell me that I’m only making your lives worse, and I swear I’ll stop pushing it.”

His words knocked the air out of your lungs, and you cursed yourself for coming in the first place. His proximity suddenly felt stifling, and your feet begged you to make a run for it. The hopeful, sincere look on his face made you look down.

“I- I don’t have to see Jace disappointed every night,” you barely managed out, willing yourself to concentrate on your fiddling hands in your lap, instead of the sharp breath Luke took. He was making you confess things you never wanted him to hear, “I don’t have to stay up worrying if you’ll come home at all; I know you won’t.”

“(y/n),” Luke’s voice wavered, the grip on his wounded heart tightening. His shoulders slumped down in defeat, his face falling into a scared expression. Maybe he should’ve left it, perhaps pushing it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. 

Tell me.” he begged once more, unable to gather up a speck of hope in his heart.

“I-” You stuttered, lifting your gaze from your lap. The teary, vulnerable look you wore on your face felt like an arrow shooting through Luke’s chest; his every instinct pushing him to hold you in his arms and apologize until his words made a difference.

You debated on your next words, the battle between what your head told you and what felt right making you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, before you settled.

“I thought- I thought nothing could be worse than getting disappointed every night.” You stopped, feeling the suppressed tears meet the warm skin of your cheeks, “Not having you there feels worse.”

Luke’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest, the sadness on his face melting into a warm smile. As far as he was concerned, the issue was solved. He silently urged you to keep going, to tell him that you and his baby boy had missed as much as he missed you.

But you didn’t.

“But, we can’t- I can go back to how it was.” You furiously shook your head. And just like that, Luke felt the nauseous feeling coming back. “We’ll get used to how it is now, it won’t be so bad. But I can’t fight with you like we did before, we’ll go back to that again and it not good for any of us!” You forced yourself to reason.

“But we won’t! I promise we won’t go back to that,” Luke blurted out in a desperate attempt, his hands involuntarily reaching out to hold yours and anchor you back to him, where he needed you to be.

“Come on, (y/n), I love you and my son more than anything.” He swallowed, “Do you still-?”

You smiled sadly at his words, “Love has never been the issue between us.”

Luke’s grip on your hands tightened, a faint smile on his lips. He didn’t allow himself to let your words soak in and light up his strung out heart. he knew better than that; he knew that you still loving him didn’t necessarily imply that you’d be willing to work it out. Still, he allowed himself to try, speaking in the soft voice of a ruined man. 

“Then tell me what it is,” He whispered, the exhaustion and fatigue apparent in the bags under his eyes. “I’m here, and I want to make it work and I want to listen.”

You allowed yourself to mull over his words, the constant confrontation between your mind and heart making you stare timidly at him. You forced yourself to look down once you finally made up your mind.

“I don’t want to feel like a burden.”

Your barely audible words felt like heavy weights on Luke’s heart. His jaw clenched, his eyes shying away from your gaze as he swallowed hard.

You knew you had to take your part of the blame, and that was it. Your decision to keep your deep thoughts unspoken had ultimately been the reason that had led Luke to believe that every had been fine- not perfect, but definitely not broken beyond repair.

Some words were better left unspoken, you knew. That had been the reason for your silence, worried about the impact your words could have, fearing that it would only make matters worse. Yet, that exact mindset had done nothing but allow Luke to stay in his blissful ignorance. Perhaps some words weren’t meant to be spoken, but you figured that having turn into words of regret wasn’t much of an option either. With that thought in mind, you cleared your throat, trying to form the right words.

“It felt like we were distracting you from your work, I -I don’t know- it was like we were another chore

You struggled to form coherent words, nervously chewing on your lower lip, your hands shaking underneath Luke’s clammy ones. You could feel him tense at your words, his whole body becoming stiff. The office suddenly felt stifling, the sweet air refusing to grant his choking lungs any bit of relief.

“I wanted to feel like you wanted to be home, with us .”

A heavy silence lingered in the room, the two of you deeply lost in your own thoughts, your words echoing still. With each passing second, you found yourself reliving your past feelings. Out of everything that felt wrong during your marriage, the worst one was feeling like nothing more than a trophy wife, a responsibility he needed to tend to. It was the crippling fear that one day would come and he would realize that it was a burden he didn’t want to carry anymore.

Luke on the other hand was too busy indulging in his self-loathing. It rendered him speechless to know just how blind and oblivious he had let himself become. Work was never supposed to come first, not in front of his family at least. There was no excuse, no convincing reason. So he was left with the only thing he was capable of saying; and it felt like the most sincerely spoken words ever.

“I’m sorry.”

Luke finally dared to meet your eyes, feeling so small and shameful in front of you. “But I promise you; you’re always first in my heart. We- I know that I’ve messed up greatly, but believe me I never wanted you and Jace to feel second.”

He sat up a straighter, his face inching closer, “I want to be here, and I want to be with you.”

However, Luke hadn’t expected to see you smile at his words, and he immediately felt alarmed. He couldn’t stop the fear cursing through his veins, for he had never seen a smile carry as much sadness as yours did.

“But, Luke,” You began, freeing one hand from his grasp to rest it on his cheek. You stopped for a minute, treasuring how he caved into your touch and leaned his face into your palm. “I’ve already heard your promises.”

Your dismissal felt like a sledgehammer, the weight of your words making Luke snap out of his trance. He stared at you, his eyes hard and and his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Look at me.” He ordered, making you do the exact opposite and lower your eyes.

“No, look at me,” He insisted, nudging your hand to gain your attention. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him- really look at him.

“It’s been hell lately. I can’t eat right, or sleep, or focus. I can’t function right knowing what I’ve done!” His eyes were wild, his emotions getting the best of him. His eyebrows were raised in frustration and fear that he would lose the only chance he could have. “Do you think that anyone in his right mind would risk losing his family after this?”

His words made your heart sink, tears brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. Tears were already making their way down his face, his bright orbs swallowed in a pool of red. Your shaky hands acted before you could think, resting on his warm cheeks and vainly wiping the wet streaks on his skin. 

Leaning your forehead against his, you sobbed into each other’s embrace with your eyes closed tight, feeling small and fragile and light and you could breath. At that moment, it didn’t matter if it was a wrong decision, and if your mind was screaming at you that he’d do it again. You smiled through your hiccuped sobs because it felt right.

Nothing had ever felt that right.

“Jace is having his birthday party at my place. Don’t be late.”

Hamlet and Melancholy - essay by Peter Holbrook

No science has yet explored the inferno in which were forged the deformations that later emerge to daylight as cheerfulness, openness, sociability, successful adaptation to the inevitable, an equable, practical frame of mind.

–Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life (1951); trans. E.F.N. Jephcott (London, 1974), p. 59.

The possibility of this sickness [of despair] is man’s advantage over the beast.

–Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death (1849), trans. Alastair Hannay (London, 1989), pp. 44-5.

Hamlet is English literature’s great melancholic: like Shakespeare’s fellow dramatist John Webster (as characterized by T.S. Eliot), the Prince of Denmark is ‘much possessed by death’.  The play opens with the appearance of Hamlet’s father’s ghost and concludes with a graveyard scene, followed by Hamlet’s death along with those of many others.  Hamlet’s death-drenched atmosphere drew a rebuke in 1930 from the critic G. Wilson Knight, who in a brilliant (and typically idiosyncratic) essay portrayed Hamlet as more than half in love with easeful Death—as an enemy of life.  For Knight, Claudius’s court at Elsinore was essentially a fun-loving, sensual place, and Hamlet a sort of sex-hating, spectral, neurotic ascetic. It is a perverse interpretation, one that fails to take account of Hamlet’s own sense of fun (see his send-ups of Polonius) or his warm, lively, wholesome relationships with others, from his friend Horatio to the actors who visit Elsinore.  But you can see how such a view of Hamlet might come about: he often seems to speak to us from beyond the grave, which, in the ‘To be, or not to be’ speech, he imagines both in terms of an afterlife and as total dissolution (it’s not clear which vision of death prevails in the play).

But another way in which melancholy enters into the world of Hamlet is in the form of social and political critique.  True, the period linked melancholy to mental disorder—but also to insight, even genius. An ancient work traditionally assigned to Aristotle had asked why those distinguished in philosophy, politics, poetry, or the arts happened to be melancholic; and the Renaissance humanist Marsilio Ficino had likewise associated genius with melancholy. So melancholy might yield knowledge.  In Hamlet Shakespeare seems to find something of value in the melancholic temperament—in particular, he associates it with an attitude of reflectiveness about political and social matters.

What is problematic in the play is the kind of coercive happiness urged by Claudius (the Usurper) and the all-too-human Gertrude. The Queen urges Hamlet to have done with grief for his father:

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Do not for ever with thy vailed lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

Thou know’st ’tis common: all that lives must die,

Passing through nature to eternity.


And Claudius follows suit, telling Hamlet that

                                     … to persever

In obstinate condolement is a course

Of impious stubbornness, ’tis unmanly grief,

It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,

A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,

An understanding simple and unschool’d;

For what we know must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sense—

Why should we in our peevish opposition

Take it to heart?



In both speeches Hamlet is taken to task for separating himself from the ordinary course of grief—which, it is accepted, must eventually have a conclusion: one should have done with mourning because it is non-functional, non-adaptive; it unfits one for life.  Notice too that non-normative grieving of Hamlet’s kind marks one out as un-‘common’.  Melancholy singularizes Hamlet, separates him from others.  But it also marks him off from what turns out to be a profoundly seamy and corrupt world, indeed a murderous tyranny.  Hamlet refuses the kind of compulsory contentment Gertrude’s and Claudius’s words recommend—the notion that one must fit in, play one’s part, not make waves.  

Precisely, then, because it puts us outside society, melancholy is potentially a source of critical insight. It is significant that Claudius reproaches Hamlet for resisting what the King presents as the natural order of things.  Hamlet’s behavior is ‘obstinate’, a piece of ‘stubbornness’ and ‘peevish opposition’ that shows ‘a mind impatient’.  Obstinacy, stubbornness, non-compliance: not qualities dear to tyrants and slave-drivers, who prefer to rule over happy idiots rather than unhappy thinkers.  

Hamlet is deeply critical of tyranny. And melancholy—which is, and not to put too fine a point on it, noticing how atrocious things are—is a precondition for real criticism.  Glass-half-full types are unlikely to mount a revolution, or stand up to a dictator.  Witness one of Hamlet’s most famous speeches, his confession of melancholy to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, apparently old friends of Hamlet’s but now working as Claudius’s spies. ‘I have of late’, observes Hamlet to these bootlickers,


wherefore I know not–lost all my mirth, forgone all

custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily

with my disposition that this goodly frame, the

earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most

excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave

o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted

with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to

me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!

how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how

express and admirable! in action how like an angel!

in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the

world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,

what is this quintessence of dust? (2.2.297-310)

Hamlet here speaks to an old theme in tragedy, that of dissolution and futility. Man may well be ‘the beauty of the world’, ‘the paragon’, or ideal type, ‘of animals’, but it is all for naught, because, like the ‘Golden lads and girls’ of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, he will eventually ‘come to dust’ (4.2.262, 263). But Hamlet’s pessimism has a social, as well as a metaphysical, cause—has as much to do with tyranny as with mortality. He is led to this despairing vision of life only fifty or so lines after declaring to these spies that ‘Denmark’s a prison’ (2.2.244). What Hamlet responds to is life in a political and social prison; and what presses in upon him is the enormous gap that exists between what man could be and what, under such conditions, he actually is.  Man is ‘infinite’ in potential or ‘faculties’—he really could be almost anything, could have the power and rational self-direction and dignity of an ‘angel’ or a ‘god’—if only he was permitted to develop these powers.  But instead he is worth no more than ‘dust’, is nothing more than a slave and prisoner. Shakespeare seems to have been preoccupied in Hamlet with this theme of a human potential (most obviously, Hamlet’s) thwarted by tyranny.      Later in the play Hamlet muses on the true ends of a properly human life:  ‘What is a man’, he asks,

If his chief good and market of his time

Be but to sleep and feed?  A beast, no more.

Sure he that made us with such large discourse,

Looking before and after, gave us not

That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unused.  (4.4.33-9)

Hamlet asserts that the principal ‘good’ and profit or purpose of human life is the free exercise of rational and discursive powers (consciousness being the faculty that, at least here, marks us off from the animals).  Our Maker, he claims, did not give us consciousness—this ‘godlike reason’ and ‘large discourse’ (or power of speech)—for it to grow mouldy in us through lack of use. But of course it is precisely under a tyranny that such ‘capabilities’ as reason and speech fall into decay—because the last thing a tyrant wants, of course, is a populace speaking and reasoning freely.  Tyrants want their subjects distracted by sleeping, feeding, sex, entertainments.  They prefer ruling passive and unthinking ‘beasts’ rather than reflective and inquiring human beings.   Claudius’s problem is that the Prince of Denmark is not such a ‘beast’: he’d rather think and be unhappy than not think and be happy. Perhaps in that sense Hamlet is a model for us today.


Peter Holbrook is Professor of Shakespeare and English Renaissance Literature at the University of Queensland, Australia, and Chair of the International Shakespeare Association, which is holding its tenth World Congress in Stratford-upon-Avon and London in the Summer of 2016.  His most recent book is English Renaissance Tragedy: Ideas of Freedom (London: Bloomsbury/Arden Shakespeare, 2015), from which some material has been borrowed for this essay.

All Shakespeare quotations are taken from The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works, ed. Richard Proudfoot, Ann Thompson and David Scott Kastan; Consultant Editor Harold Jenkins (London: Methuen, 2001).

It’s a Nice Day for a Dead Wedding (Daryl Dixon imagine)

Imagine: Can you write an imagine where you and Daryl are married by Father Gabriel? – Anon Request.

A.N: I thought this idea was adorable, I hope you enjoy this, I couldn’t resist.

Word Count: 1823


Growing up I never dreamed of a big wedding, never planned my dress or imagined my perfect day. They seemed ridiculous, old fashioned and an unnecessary way to profess your undying love; wretch. All of this considered, when Daryl – my scruffy and lovable redneck – proposed, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

He’d stood, drenched in walker blood and sweat in the midsummer heat. I’d saved his life, he had accepted death the second I busted through the herd of the dead. As soon as I had asked if he was bit, his only reply was, “Marry me?” It felt right. 

So here I am, sat next to a hormonal Maggie, who is gushing over us, making plans for Alexandria’s church to be decorated with flowers. I would stop her, but pissing off a pregnant woman was not on my to-do list today, least of all Maggie. At this point, the whole of Alexandria was aware and excited for a celebration of sorts and Daryl looked queasy at the idea. I laughed, tuning everyone out and nudged him softly.

“Should we get out of here?” I whispered to him, his eyes brightening at the prospect of not being the center of attention. 


“Y/N! Michonne found a dress your size on a run, you have to try it on, come ooooon!” Maggie had burst into my room, Daryl and I were in the middle of a heated make out session; my bare back facing her whilst I straddled his lap. Daryl groaned, dropping his head onto my chest causing me to chuckle. It’d been the third time that day that Maggie had burst in with news for the ‘big day’ and he wasn’t exactly enjoying our lack of privacy. 

He passed me my shirt, grumbling and cursing his proposal. Maggie feigned ignorance to our current predicament and proceeded to gush over the dress. 

“Come on Y/N!” 

“Why can’t she jus’ try it on here?” Daryl huffed.

“Cause. It’s bad luck for the groom to see it before the wedding,” Maggie retorted. 

“’S bullshit,” Daryl grabbed a cigarette and stomped out childishly. 

Maggie shook her head, “men,” she grabbed my hand, pulling me off the bed and down the hall to torture me some more. 


This was it, today was the day. I had Michonne, Maggie and Carol tending to me. The dress was actually rather pretty and wasn’t too fancy, it did have a small train that trailed behind me; much to my dismay. Rick had even found a veil for me to wear, I refused, but Maggie had come to a compromise – if I wore the veil then I could wear my boots instead of heels. Which was an easy win in my eyes. 

Alexandria was in good spirits, having a celebration had people coming together for something other than a funeral and I guess it’s what the town needed. Carol had baked a cake, Enid and a few others had been roped into decorating the church with fairylights and homemade bunting, Glenn had attempted to find a good mix cd to play but Daryl hated all of the songs so he insisted on choosing the soundtrack. It was happening. 

Midway through my make up, Enid ran into the room. 

“There’s a pile up of walkers at the gate, Sasha and Abraham are trying to fend them off but we need people out there distracting them.” She panted, panicked and guilt ridden. 

“I’m on it,” I stated, standing up and bunching my dress into my fists. 

“You can’t! It’s your wedding day!” Maggie scorned.

“Look, I’m one of the best and you know it, the sooner I tend to this, then the sooner I can get married…” I stated, refusing to back down. 

“What about your dress?!” Michonne joined Maggie in berating me. Without giving them an answer or a chance to stop me, I unsheathed my knife from my boot and tugged at my excessively long skirt. A quick gasp left Maggie as I used my knife to cut midway through my dress, then continue to tear it across haphazardly. 

“It’s just a dress, I don’t need to be fancy to show my love for Daryl, however… I don’t want people dying on my ‘big day’ so let me help.” I gave Maggie a short look before marching out into the daylight. 

Seeing Rick, I ran to him, “Rick! Hey, help me get over the wall!” He turned, shocked to see me, he looked as if he were going to argue but thought better of it. He nodded, the we proceeded to help one another climb over the wall. Once we landed safely outside, we ran around to the herd of walkers and started to take them out one by one – Rick with his axe and me with my knife. 

“Hey! Dead heads! Over here!” I shouted, drawing them away from the gate. The crowd of walkers already thinning out drastically, the commotion of the town must have drawn them in. Down to the last two, Rick and I exchanged a look before taking them out. Leaving us surrounded by bodies. 

“We’ll clean up later,” he huffed, drenched in sweat and blood. “Speaking of cleanin’ up…” He signaled to my blood stained dress; tattered and torn. My skin drenched in sweat, leaving my hair matted and stuck to my face. I laughed, a hearty big belly laugh, causing Rick to look bemused. 

“Couldn’t think of a better way to look when marrying Daryl Dixon,” I quipped, Rick chuckled and nodded, hands on his hips.

“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right…” 


By the time we made it back into the safety of the walls, people had already returned to the church, gathering inside. Maggie walked out to meet me, arms folded across her chest. 

“Y/N, what the hell?” 

“Look, I know you want my day to be special, and it still is, okay? You’ve done so much, look at how happy everyone is.” I pointed to the people clambering into the church behind us. “Thank you, Maggs. Now, can I marry the love of my life now or what?” 

Maggie laughed, Rick pulling me into his side and kissing my temple. I patted his chest and sighed. 

“C’mon,” he took my hand and tugged me along, the faint sound of heavy metal coming from inside the church – of course, Dixon had chosen metal to play on our wedding day. 

“You ready to walk me down the aisle?” I asked Rick, he wasn’t far off my actual age but he looked out for me and was the closest thing I had to an older brother, I couldn’t think of anyone better. He nodded, pulling me me through the door. Maggie shouted at everyone to settle down, and everyone’s eyes turned to face me. Mine and Ricks disheveled and bloodied state, amusement crossed their faces… but the face I cared about most, smiled outright. 

Daryl stood at the end of the aisle, in his usual attire, only his angel vest was missing. He looked as if he’d attempted at cleaning his clothes, his black button up shirt tucked into his jeans. I laughed, and he did too, watching me with an amused glimmer in those crystal blue eyes. Rick laced his arm with mine and squeezed a little, excitement and reassurance exuding from him. 

The heavy metal ceased, and Father Gabriel walked up to the altar. Daryl turned to play the music again, but the song that came on caught me off guard, soft piano music began to play. He’d remembered my love for piano. My heart soared, I took one look at Rick, hugging him before running down the aisle towards my handsome husband-to-be. People cheered me on, loud whistles ensuing. Daryl laughed, arms open ready to catch me as I jumped onto him. 

Father Gabriel looked as if he were about to interrupt us but I kissed my man regardless, wrapping my arms around his neck. The cheering getting louder, I felt Daryl chuckle through his chest before pulling back to rest his forehead against mine. Clearing his throat, he looked embarrassed at the overwhelming attention. Gabriel coughed, and I hopped down from Daryl’s body, his hands steadying me. 

“Sorry, I just, I love this man,” I stated. Daryl blushed deeper, fiddling with his fingers. Father Gabriel smiled, a genuine smile before shaking his head.

“Not to worry, that is why we’re gathered here today,” I felt my tummy flutter, this was happening… I imagined my parents here, how shocked they would be to see me getting married… and how unfazed they would be by my bloody attire. I let a sadness wash over me briefly, missing their presence but didn’t linger on it for long because Gabriel had started his speech. 

Daryl interrupted him, “uh Father, can we skip that crap? Get ta the good part?” 

Gabriel nodded, taken aback, but happy all the same. “Can we have the rings?” He called out. We turned to see Carl carrying little Judith in his arms. She had two rings in her hands, well, in her mouth but it made us laugh. She looked excited upon seeing us, as they approached, holding her arms out to me. I took her from Carl, giving him a kiss on the cheek – just to see him blush and push me off. I laughed more, taking the rings from little Judy who decided to play with my hair. Daryl watched me with a look I couldn’t place, his gaze flicking between me and Judith, nibbling away at his lip.

“Daryl, do you take Y/N to be your wife?” 

He stepped closer to me, taking my hand in his and slipping my ring onto my finger. Taking a moment to gently run his thumb over the top of my hand, his eyes running over my face, down to my lips. I smiled. “I do.” 

“And Y/N, do you take Daryl to be your husband?” 

With the help of Judith I placed the ring onto his finger, which didn’t fit too well, but he made do with a chuckle. “I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride,” Father Gabriel stepped back and Daryl pulled me to him; mindful of Judy and kissed me deeply to the cheers of our loved ones. When we separated, Judith clapped her hands together, chanting.

“Me, me too!” Both Daryl and I ducked our heads and kissed either side of her cheeks much to her amusement – she squealed with joy. Rick smiled brightly, stepping forward to take her from me, kissing my cheek too. 

Before I could turn, Daryl scooped me in his arms, lifting me off my feet. Marching me out of the church, nuzzling his nose into my hair. “Finally, I get ya to myself,” he grumbled, causing me to flush. My greedy archer. 

“I love you Daryl.”

“I love you too, Mrs Dixon.” 

The Truth - Barry Allen x Reader

Request: Could you do a Barry Allen imagine were him and the reader are dating and the reader is batgirl but no one knows until one of gothams villains comes to central city and she puts her costume on and fights the tells Barry the truth and he thinks it’s cool how she works with batman and robin Since he and the team have been fans for a long time

Prompt: Reader is secretly Batgirl and hasn’t told her new friends in Central City. When a Gotham enemy comes into town she is forced to reveal herself to help out Barry. 

Words: 1600-ish

Warning: none

A/N: Okay so this is my first fic, let me know what you think! I know my spelling isn’t good sometimes but let me know and I will go back and edit. Since this is my first story feedback is very much appreciated. Happy Reading!

Originally posted by telefilmaddictedforever

My name is y/n and almost a year ago I moved to Central City. I used to fight crime alongside Batman and Robin, and Gotham city knew me as Batgirl. Unfortunately, my secret identity was compromised so I had to relocate myself for a while and keep a low profile until the rest of my team thought it was safe for me to return. In order to keep a low profile, I got a job as a barista at Jitters, but it all changed soon. I started talking to a one-of-a-kind guy named Barry Allen, who after we started dating, told me he was the famous superhero named The Flash.

We have been dating for 6 months now and I still haven’t told him who I really am. Cisco, Caitlin and him have talked about Batman and Robin and how recently, they haven’t heard much about Batgirl. They are big fans and I fear they will view me differently if they knew.

I help them in cases they can’t crack. I always spot the things they don’t see or notice the things they overlook which is why they hired me, an extra pair of hands and another brain to help around, which is actually why I’m walking into STAR labs at nearly one in the morning after a call from Cisco.


“We are trying to find information on this new villain we caught in a surveillance camera a few hours ago and we could use your brains right about now.” I hear Cisco say, I put the phone on speaker and looked for jeans and a tank top, since Cisco wants me there now there is not much time to look for something else.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can Cisco, I’m not The Flash so you will need to wait till I get there at my normal speed.” I hear him laugh and mumble something about me needing to be faster, I throw my hair back in a ponytail and pick up the phone heading out the door.


“I’m here Cisco!” I say semi-jogging into the cortex. I see Caitlin next to Cisco, typing away on their computers, already probably trying to find the guy.

“Y/N, come here!” I heard Barry say on the other side of the room. He was looking at a video in a computer and had that frown he always gets when he is thinking hard on something. I walked over to him and we quickly held hands. Holding hands had become our thing after he started to randomly hold my hand even before we dated and I wasn’t going to protest. It is our thing.

“Did Cisco wake you up? He said you were probably awake and we should call you.” He kissed the top of my head, causing my heart to skip beats. You would think that after all this time being with him, that it would not have an effect on me. You would think that after fighting scary villains, nothing would scare me but you would be wrong. Being with Barry is the one thing in this world that makes me happy but also the one thing in this world that scares me. I’ve fallen hard for him and I know there is no turning back now and I couldn’t care less.

“It’s fine, you know, I don’t mind being here if it means I get to see you.” I place a chaste kiss on his cheek and see a small blush creep upon it.

“Gross.” Cisco says to himself. Barry smiles and points at the screen bringing my attention to it.

“We were able to ID the guy, his name is Dr. Jervis Tetch and he is from Gotham City he stole some equipment from Palmer Technologies and was last seen entering Central City.”

As soon as he said the name my eyes went wide, I knew him. We named him Mad Hatter and he would use technology to control people’s mind and it was usually done by a technological piece he created and he would place it in a hat to get into people’s head.

“Mad Hatter.”

Keep reading

Love Part 5/?- Daryl Dixon

Plot/Request: You finally confess your feelings to Daryl, but his reaction was one you were dreading. After months apart, are those feelings still there?

Word count:

Warnings: swearing, violence, hints at negan x reader (is this a warning?) 

 luv u all and i hope you’ll enjoy where i’m taking this :) also, i reached 1.7k a couple days ago, and i’m already close to 1.8k wut is this madness??? 

Tagging: @mrfaiirfiield, @supernotnaturalcas, @milkyblubber, @zombeeegurl, @buckaroo–barnes@bitchasaurus, @sexyseabaz, @danandphllfics, @dashesoflipstick, @thatrandomblogblog, @phan—anime, @geekandbooknerd, @imagine-soa, @coral-grimes, @waywardsoulpainter, @igotanaddixon, @summerbee53, @iqueenofhellinbox or message me if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming fics! (please specify if you’d like everything or certain characters/series)

read [part one], [part two], [part three] and [part four] first!


Goosebumps rose along your skin as the wind slipped through an open window. A shiver racked your spine, your hands quickly moving to up and down your arms. In your attempt to regain some heat, you’d been mostly unsuccessful. The cold air still nipped at your skin, even though it was anything but bare.

You were wearing a dark overcoat, buttoned up all the way to your neck, where a long black scarf lay. It was loose and thin. The fabric did little to keep you warm, but you still wore it. Your jeans, as worn out as they were expected to be, still did a good job at keeping in your body heat. They had small tears at the knees, small enough to be considered barely noticeable.

Thick grey gloves were worn over your hands. They had soft lining on the inside, which was considered a luxury in these times.

Your entire life could be considered a luxury. You had a home, one that was far warmer than this messy RV you were waiting in. You had status. As one of Negan’s closest friends, all the saviours gave you tremendous respect.

But that didn’t stop you from being cold.

You could hear Negan’s speech from inside the RV, same old, same old. Even though you’d heard the speech at least a dozen times, seen some random get killed every time, you still found yourself coming along for the ride.

Sometimes you’d watch, just to remind yourself who was in charge. Whenever you felt close to betraying Negan, you imagined yourself in that situation. Knees pressed against the wet ground, tears slipping down your cheeks as you begged for your life.

Hopefully, it’d never come to that. Not after everything that’s happened between you two. The undefined relationship you shared.

Another shiver slipped through your skin, shaking your body for a moment. You sighed, annoyed at the feeling. The puff of air you exhaled was followed by a cloud of steam. It was below zero.

You’d never really done something like this before, but in this moment, you really couldn’t care less. With your stubborn outlook, you stood up. The RV door snapped open, your boots crunching on the gravel as you approached Negan.

He turned to you slowly, Lucille twirling in his hands. Fresh blood dropped from the bat in small doses. Some chunks of brain were tangled in the barbed wire, a bit of hair as well. You sighed, approaching Negan with a blank face. He gave you a chuckle, a smile sprawled across his lips.

To anyone else, the sight would’ve been horrific. To you, though, it was a sight you were accustomed to. You were focused on your own survival. Not the survival of a group of people you didn’t even know.

“Aha,” He chuckled, wiping a part of his cheek. The small blood splatter spread further instead. “You missed it.” Negan’s words brought the spotlight to you. The ones kneeling on the ground, they felt a mixture of awe and shock as you neared them.

The ones you knew, they instantly recognised you. Though your hair was slightly shorter and your clothes clean, they still knew your face. Daryl remembered the curve of your smile every day, yet seeing you now made him feel like he had it all wrong.

As if everything came back to him, he remembered that you had one little dimple on your left cheek. That your eyes were slightly bigger, your eyebrows naturally framed them. How dry and chapped your lips got in the winters while still maintaining their pink colour.

“You took out a big one, didn’t you?” You asked. Negan gave you a large smile, nodding his head excitedly.

“Oh, you should’ve heard him! Suck my nuts.” He gave his best impression of the now dead man. You shook your head at him, about to chuckle when someone called your name.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” The man asked tenderly. Within a second, your face lost colour. Your once vibrant eyes moved to the kneeling man in front of you. You exhaled slowly, trying to figure out why on earth Rick Grimes was at the other end of Negan’s speech.

“Oh, my god,” You mumbled, taken aback. Negan gave you both an odd look, trying to connect the dots.

“You know this sorry fuck?” Negan scoffed. Slowly, you composed yourself enough to nod. Whoever Negan had killed, you didn’t know, which seemed to be a blessing in disguise.

(Y/N), please. Don’t let him–”

“Don’t let me what?” Negan interrupted, stomping toward Rick. “What’s done is done, buddy! Suck it up.” He commanded, kicking a puff of dust into Rick’s face. He coughed a bit, but quickly regained himself.

A hint of sadness slipped past your walls and you found yourself regretting not coming out earlier. But then the events of the prison unfolded yet again in your mind, how not just Rick, but Daryl had left you behind. Left you for dead. 

You remembered how Negan punished traitors, how he burned off Dwight’s face and forced Sherry to be his wife. 

You and him were complicated as it was. As much as you hated the things he did, he was comforting at times. He helped you while you were injured, he protected you.

All in all, you didn’t want to risk your life, especially for people that had abandoned you. So in a moment, your heart grew cold for the group before you.  

You chuckled, nearing Rick. “He’s right you know.” A sinister smile graced your lips, “Your friend is dead. He’s not coming back.” 

“This isn’t you.” Rick muttered, his body rocking back and forth slightly. Again, sadness and regret sunk into you, but with your survival on mind, you pushed forward.

“But it is. When I was shot, trying to save your ass, you ignored me. Left me there,” You paused, “To die!” you growled through clenched teeth, “That’s when I became the person I was supposed to be. That’s when I became, me.”

“I– I didn’t see–”

“Stop.” You hushed him, moving back to Negan. “I understand karma’s a bitch but,” You sighed, giving a shake of your head before continuing, “You brought this on yourself.”

The group watched as you coldly turned your back to them. It was hard, seeing you so upset yet visibly holding back. Some were new faces to you, others old. During your little speech, you’d avoided eye-contact with everyone except Rick. 

Rick stayed silent as you turned to face Negan. He smiled down at you. His teeth were surprisingly white for being in the midst of an apocalypse, but you didn’t complain. You were sure your teeth shared almost the same glimmer, as the sanctuary had a fair amount of hygienic supplies at your disposal.

Warmth being one of them. “I’m going back home, it’s too cold out here.” You mumbled, rubbing along your upper arms again. He nodded to you, somewhat proud. 

“Whatever you need, (Y/N).” He winked, watching with attentive eyes as you sauntered away. His eyes were no doubt glued to your ass, but you didn’t make any comment. A pair of saviours followed you, opening your car door for you to get in.

Through the slightly cracked open window, you could hear Negan talking again.

Jesus!” He yelled, chuckling softly. “Did you fucking see that ass?” He asked, leaning down to the kneeled group. Daryl felt the all too familiar feeling of anger sink into his skin. Negan talking about you, touching you– it was too much.

The car drove away, with it, you. Any chance of seeing you again felt somewhat forbidden, but Daryl needed to try. It was easy enough for him to see through your act, the others, maybe not so much.

He needed to explain– Shit, he needed to finish that conversation. He needed to know if you could ever forgive him, as he hadn’t even himself. 

“God, that girl will be the death of me.” Negan mumbled, scratching his beard with a smirk that Daryl quickly grew to hate. His words pulled Daryl out of his thoughts, but as he continued to taunt the group, Daryl’s anger just grew. In fact, the Dixon brother was having a very hard time controlling himself.

As Negan was soon to find out, if you pull and pull at the same old rubber band, eventually it’ll snap.

[part six]