you could turn my lights out

Why would you want to turn the lights off when you could simply put your glasses aside? You’re basically blind anyway.
—  Regulus Black, to James Potter, who wanted to do it with the lights off, at 2 am

I have a ‘new’ obsession. I got back into Eddsworld and then found out that there was fanfiction of it, so here we are with my bab. He could totally kick my ass still even though he’s an injured amnesiac, but I love Forget Me Not. Such good detail and pacing, giving good exposition and just enough to keep you wanting more.

Sorry for the shoddy picture, I’m in my dark room and was too lazy to turn on more lights. Maybe I’ll actually finish this, idk.

Forget Me Not AU belongs to @minubell and her fanfic is on Ao3, go check it out!

What a happy kiddo!!!!!

(@thecelticassassin - Mob in C1!!)

the fact that darth vader built his fucking emocastle on Mustafar where ol’ ben cut his arms and legs off just makes him even more of an edgelord and his garbage pun as he was choking tf out of krennic and then his #sashayaway and oh my god his chest panel lights up so when he made his entrance onto the rebel ship you KNOW he turned off the chest panel so he could light up his lightsaber and be all dramatic honestly #iconic 

At first, heartbreak made me beautiful.
My skin fluoresced. I hypnotized trees.
The orphans followed me around town,
drunk on my pain. I ate only my own
hunger, gave off a scent like bitter oranges
or chlorine. Loss left me strangely whole,
as if my sadness, were it strong enough,
could turn your ship around. That was back
when I aged. Now, like an astronomer
who seeks no first causes, but only to map
the connections pinned out over the sea,
I want to diagram the light that shines out
through the holes you pricked into me.
—  Maureen Thorson, from Applies to Oranges

anonymous asked:

Will we get a Hail Mary update soon?? Claire need to get back to Jamie and set things right!! :-)

Hail Mary

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate, and 2) not *had* to get married? 

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV

Part V

It was eight days later that I rode into the courtyard of Castle Leoch, just as dawn was breaking.  

I could have gotten there sooner, certainly, but I had kept off the main roads to the greatest extent possible, taking no chances of falling into the hands of strangers. I’d had quite enough of that, thank you very much, and while my stint with one highland clan had turned out rather well on the whole, I had no desire to try my luck with another, let alone the English army. 

And, despite the danger and the fatigue of the journey, my heart had been light and ready to burst for all eight of those days.

…’Rather well’…

Understatement to the extreme.

It had brought me Jamie.

As foolish and romantic a notion as it perhaps was, I had found myself many times on that hopeful, frantic journey wondering….was it fate that I had come through the stones? That I hadn’t been able to get back to Frank?  Had some bizarre destiny planted the fascination with wildflowers in my mind that morning so that I could be brought to Jamie, and him to me? Or had it all been mere luck? Could chance alone truly have resulted in this wonder? Could I honestly believe that mere odds should have allowed two people— so exquisitely attuned to one another, and yet separated by centuries and custom and country—to find one another in a dangerous, lonely universe?

But even as I had wondered endlessly in the long hours and days and nights on the Highland tracks, I knew it didn’t matter; made no true difference why or how by what means I had found myself in this place, this time. What mattered was the burning in my chest as I swung down from the horse; the need of him singing out from my heart; that he was the only thing my bleary eyes sought among the dozens of faces that gaped staring—glaring—at me from around the mist-laden courtyard.

“Mary, Michael, and Bride–CLAIRE!”

It was not Jamie but Mrs. Fitz barreling toward me from the kitchen dooryard, eyes wide…and wary.  

So, my suspicions had been right, then— the rent party had come directly back to Leoch. Part of me had hoped against hope that they would have continued further north, upon the secondary loop that Ned had pointed out to me that night upon the map. If they had, I would have arrived well before them—giving me precious, valuable time to convince Colum of the perfectly logical (and fictitious) explanation for how I had been so tragically and unexpectedly abducted from Ned and Murtagh and the rest and then escaped. It would have worked, I thought; as long as Jamie kept his silence. Would he?

I care for you, Claire.

My mind snapped back into awareness, back to the cold, stark realities of the present. I hadn’t arrived first, and thus the entire castle knew of my desertion.

Nonetheless, Mrs. Fitz had genuine affection in her voice as she clasped me hard to her bread-and-herb-scented bosom. “Oh, m’dear,” she said, sniffing, and voice tremulous with emotion, “they said—Och, child, they said such terrible things—!“

I returned the embrace, feeling affection flood my heart, even in the same moment as fear and dead-panic. “What—what have they said about me, Mrs. Fitz?”

Forewarned is forearmed, after all. 

She pulled back to stare searchingly up into my face, whispering each word so as not to be overheard by the many watchful onlookers. “That ye’re an English spy—and that ye made off in the night wi’ no warning—and that ye came among us tae do the Mackenzie harm wi’ the knowledge ye’ve gleaned in our midst…”

Well, all things considered, I suppose I couldn’t expect fairer than that. I’d carefully formulated my story, rehearsed the details forward and back—all I could do was pray that Colum would buy it. And that I could talk to Jamie at the first possible moment.  

“I’m not a spy, Mrs. Fitz,” I said, as confidently and reassuringly as I could, bending to kiss her warmly on the cheek. “I can assure you, it’s all a dreadful misunderstanding.”

Lord knew I was not a grand actress, but Mrs. Fitz gave an enormous exhale of relief, looked both flustered and pleased as she took both my hands in hers. “I didna wish tae believe it of ye, m’dear—Such treacherous behavior, I couldna—No, I DIDNA myself believe it, child, but Dougal said–”

“I understand perfectly, Mrs Fitz, truly I do. I promise that I’ll explain the truth as soon as possible to Colum—I mean the laird. In the meantime,” I was literally swaying where I stood, “might I—trouble you for some food?—and perhaps a basin of water to wash? Before I attract more attention?”

The water would be pleasant, but it was food that I needed desperately. The bannocks I had filched from camp were long gone when I reached Craigh na Dun. Having no skill as a hunter, I had had to make do with what roots and berries and other edibles I could forage along the roadside. I had made it to Leoch on stubbornness and hope alone; but the reality was that I was very close to spent from hunger, and was having trouble keeping my legs and my vision aright.  

“Of course, of course!” Mrs Fitz said, already guiding me toward the kitchens. “Sweet child, starved and half-frozen.” She stopped sharply as we reached the doorway, looking apologetic. “Of course, I will have tae send word tae Himself at once that ye’ve arrived, Claire….given….weel….”

Given that I was still a presumed English spy who had just sauntered back into MacKenzie Clan HQ.

“Of course, Mrs. Fitz,” I said gently, “it’s the right thing to do.”

While she commissioned the boy known as Young Alec to take the message to the laird’s cambers and deliver my few belongings up to a spare chamber, my eyes swung once more around and around the courtyard. No Jamie.

Ten minutes was all I needed—ten minutes to explain how wrong I’d been to run; that everything I’d spat at him that night had been a dreadful, vicious lie; that I missed him; that I wanted him; that I wanted to stay. And failing that, even one minute just to be in his arms; to lay my head against his chest and feel his arms pulling me safe and warm against him. One minute just to hold him, and tell him with the gentle softness of my touch, with my eyes, that he hadn’t misjudged my affections; that he hadn’t been…’mistaken.’

Come find me, Jamie, I prayed upward into the walls of Leoch. Find me. Let me tell you what’s in my heart. What was there all along.

I followed Mrs. Fitz inside and down the familiar corridors to the kitchens. She ushered me—ignoring the stares and whispers from the kitchen staff—into a small room behind the kitchen hearth that I had never noticed before. Less than a minute later, I was gulping a mug of thick beef broth (“Drink slowly, m’dear, ye dinna want griping  in yer wame, aye?”), while she and a teenage girl drew me a warm bath in a small wooden tub before the fire. While I had protested that cold water was perfectly sufficient, the warmth of it and the sweet scent of the chamomile soap were together as comforting and bracing as brandy to my weary body. She helped me wash and rinse my hair, then wrapped me thick towels with a second mug of broth as she conjured a clean gown, shift, and stays for me, and then helped me herself to dress.

She sat with me by the fire as I inhaled porridge with honey and a small loaf with soft cheese. Her manner was still kind and sympathetic, but her eyes remained sharp and leery.

“I willna hide from ye, Claire, that the laird is no’ likely tae speak your name with kindness. Dougal was cursing ye roundly tae anyone that would listen—Old Mr. Gowan has scarcely ceased wi’ shaking his head and bemoaning yer actions— and wee Jamie, weel, he’s barely spoken, hasn’t he?”

That jolted my heart into a frenzy. “Has he?” I said lightly, not meeting her eye.

“Jamie? Och, aye,” she said, nodding gravely. “He must ha’ been sore affected by it. I suppose ‘tis only right, wi’ his loyalty to his uncles, ken? But my Laoghaire— she was sae glad tae see him return (she carries quite the torch for him, ye see)—but he’s been silent and lifeless as a stone these past days—Has scarcely given her as much as a ‘Good day.’”

Perversely, that made my heart leap. He doesn’t want Laoghaire, not even for comfort. He doesn’t want just any woman. He wants…

“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Fitz.” Young Alec’s head appeared around the door. “The Mackenzie requests Mistress Beauchamp’s presence in his study at her earliest convenience.”

I didn’t have the balls to ask Mrs. Fitz for a heaping four-finger glass of whisky, but Jesus H. CHRIST how I needed one.

‘Her earliest convenience.’ Which was to say, immediately. Which was to say my fate was to be decided at once. Which meant that if it were the laird’s pleasure, I would be expelled from the castle before I’d had the chance to even lay eyes on Jamie. Which meant—

Dammit. God bloody fucking dammit.

“Will ye do me the honor of sitting with me a time, Mistress Beauchamp?”

I sat in the proffered armchair across the broad desk from Colum MacKenzie. The laird of Castle Leoch was—outwardly, at least— as serene as ever, his appearance decorous and tidy, despite the earliness of the hour. Despite my earlier need for a stiff drink, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the glass he’d had a servant bring me.

He sat there surveying me, that quiet, wry smile playing at his lips. I lowered my eyes and waited, looking awkwardly around the room by way of distraction from the tension in the room. The laird’s study was just the same: luxuriously crammed with its beautiful furnishings befitting the MacKenzie’s station and wealth. His birds cheeped and chirruped eagerly, apparently not at all sensible of the tension pervading the room.

“Déja vu,” Colum said at last.

“What? I mean—“ I stammered, trying to recover from his startlingly calm non-sequitur. “I beg your pardon, my laird?”

“Déja vu. It’s French,” Colum said evenly, eyes twinkling. “It means, ’already seen.’ But surely—“ he said, gracefully arcing an eyebrow, “you, having family in France, would know that?”

I returned his level gaze with one of my own, though I smiled sweetly. “I do apologize, my laird, I simply was taken off-guard. Yes, I do know what the word means.”

“Aye, verra good…excellent.” He nodded sagely, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop, not breaking eye contact. “Then you’ll perhaps know, too, why I should be experiencing such a phenomenon at this moment….”

I knew precisely what he was getting at, but I feigned polite ignorance, waiting for him to continue, to make the first move. 

He did. “You…in my study…playing the harmless ingénue…after appearing on clan lands under highly suspicious circumstances.” He raised his eyebrows. “It does seem—to ring a certain bell, does it not?”

My heart was racing with adrenaline, but I smiled a smile of simple regret and opened my mouth to speak—I had rehearsed this all the way from Craigh na Dun, after all—but a pounding on the door made me all but jump out of my skin. 

“Enter,” Colum said, not seeming in the least bit surprised by the interruption. I regained my composure and remained facing forward. 

There came the squeal of hinges and the unmistakable snort behind me. “So it’s true then,” Dougal MacKenzie’s voice said said, low and hissing, “the prodigal wench has returned.”

My mind was a constant stream of all the curses I’d ever learned, in every tongue, and I’d played with street urchins in countless countries.It shouldn’t have surprised me, now that I came to think of it—Dougal was Colum’s right-hand, after all, and I had officially been in his charge when I’d made my escape— but it did. I had prepared for Colum, for his savage cunning masked in level-headed civility; I was equipped for that: for the turn of phrase and the traps of language and logic. But Dougal was another matter entirely—I couldn’t trust myself to remain calm and collected in the face of his pugnacious and irreverent manner. But I had to bloody do it, prepared or no. 

I didn’t bother to turn around, just said simply, “I’m not a wench, Mr. MacKenzie. And yes, I have returned.” This exchange was too important to let him raise my ire. 

“Prodigal liar, then,” he said, appearing to my left and coming to stand next to his brother, arms crossed and eyes blazing as he glared down at me. “Conspirator. Agent.”

My gaze was still cool, my voice still polite, but I could feel the shards of glass in it, dangerous to both of us. “I swear to you, Mr. Mackenzie: I’m none of those things.”

He laughed, cruelly and vicious, bending at the waist to put his face mere inches from mine. “Ye expect us to just believe the mere word of a lying, filthy wh–”

Will ye tell us, Mistress Beauchamp,” Colum said, his sharp tone a silent warning which Dougal must have comprehended at once, for he stepped back from me, and came to stand at Colum’s right hand, his own hand resting on his dirk handle.

Colum continued. “Will ye tell us what it was, exactly, that made ye suddenly choose to leave the rent party….and just as suddenly return?”

I took a deep breath, ready. “You will certainly recall, my laird, that since my—“ (Filthy, barbarous abduction). “—Arrival— with the Clan MacKenzie, so shortly after the death of my husband, it has been my desire to reach Inverness.”

The laird nodded. 

“It was my intention to join with friends there in hopes of beginning a new life among those I trusted. It was to them that I went the night I departed from the rent party. My longing for familiar faces had grown so strong, that I could no longer bear to wait. That is why I left. The simple desire to be among friends once more.” 

Dougal made a sound of deep derision, but Colum only nodded. “Would ye be so kind as to share with us their names?”

“Reverend Reginald Wakefield and his wife, Catherine, both old friends of my departed parents. I was a child, the last time I met with them, but there was no doubt in my mind that they would receive me. However–” I heaved a deep breath, pleased to feel a lump in my throat that lent emotion to my voice as I revealed the ‘sad’ news. “Upon arriving in Inverness, I learned that the Wakefields had taken ship for the Indies three years ago, to begin a Presbyterian mission on the island of—”

“How daft do ye think we are, woman?” Dougal growled, with a gesture so violent I shrunk back instinctively into my chair. “Ye dinna have friends in Inverness and ye NEVER did. Else you’d have written to them upon your first arrival here.”

I straightened once more and did my best to appear innocently perplexed. “What makes you think I didn’t write to them, Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Because—“ Colum interjected, his calm—earlier, such an asset to my nerves— now terrifying. Not a hand of clemency: a razor-thin knife,“—I make it my business to be aware of all correspondence in and out of the castle. Oh, not necessarily the contents,” he said, seeing the shock and disapproval on my face, “just who is writing to whom while enjoying my hospitality—as is my right as laird.” He folded his hands. “And there has been no letter to or from a Claire Beauchamp at any point since you arrived on MacKenzie lands.” 

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a soft, “—And if ye did manage to communicate with them… it does make one wonder…” He gave me his most piercing gaze yet, stealing my breath, “—why a woman with nothing to conceal should go to such lengths to do so…undetected?”

No. No no no no no, this was slipping so quickly away from my control.

“I do appreciate how all this must appear on the surface.” I could feel my heart racing with panic as I grasped at straws, desperate to remain calm and failing miserably. There was an audible quaver in my voice—damn it, damn ME!—“All I can do, my laird, is swear that I mean you and your clan no ill will, I have no ties or contact with the English government, whatsoever and I am willing to attest to those truths on anything you wish to name. The simple fact, however it may appear, is I saw a chance to reach Inverness and I took it. That is all.”

“Liar,” Dougal hissed. “Admit it: You’re a paid informant for the English. Ye left our company ten days ago to report our goings-on to your superiors, and now you’re back, despite your sweet face and claim to innocence, wi’ fresh orders and OPEN EARS.”

I was panicking. “That—that is simply not—”

He was looming over me again. I could smell his breath and feel it hot on my forehead. “Admit the truth, woman, and we’ll perhaps show ye some mercy. SPEAK!” 

A cacophony of sound filled the room and startled the birds. 

Dougal’s violent snarling: “Liar! LIAR!”

A whimpering sound. Me? 

Colum’s sharp, commanding, “I can think of no just reason—”


“—that a woman wi’ nothing to hide, should—” 

“Please—please—you must believe–”

Dougal’s hands on the arms of my chair. 

My eyes closed, the colors roaring in the dark. 

Stop. Just make it stop. Stop.  



“—Loosen your tongue–”


I felt his voice jolt through my body like a wave of electricity and I whirled my head to see him standing in the corner, arms crossed. 


I nearly sunk to the floor in abject relief. He must have entered with Dougal, remaining silent. But he was here. HERE

Jamie. MY Jamie.

Floor be damned: I wanted to leap out of the chair and fly into his arms—those strong arms that had held me and warmed me and kept me; Wanted to feel his skin against mine. Wanted—wanted so badly it felt like physical pain in my chest—to kiss him and feel his fingers in my hair. To talk. To tell. JAMIE. 

I forced myself to remain still, but inside I was thrumming with relief and joy. Everything would be alright, now—Jamie was here.

Tell them, Mistress,” he said, and the coldness in that voice was so shocking I blinked as though struck. 

He had stepped forward a pace or two, so I could see that his eyes, too, were hard and icy, revealing none of his usual bright eagerness. Even more disturbing than this, they held an alarming intensity, some silent meaning I couldn’t comprehend. “It’s alright, mistress. Tell them the truth of why ye fled.”

Another jolt, and I could do nothing but stare, my mouth gobbling open and shut. The truth? 

For one wild, ludicrous moment, I was screaming: ‘how does he know I was trying to get through the stones?’

But he didn’t know; he couldn’t know; he could never know that truth.

“I….CAN’T.” I finally said, teeth gritted and voice tight. (Because I don’t know what in bloody hell you mean, you damned, wonderful—)

“Ye can,” he said, walking around to my right to stand with his uncles. “Go on, Mistress. There’s less shame in it than being mistaken and hung for a spy.”

“What’s this about, Jamie?” Colum demanded, his eyes flashing.

Dougal, too, was mounting in his own brand of fury. He took a menacing step toward his nephew. “D’ye mean to say that ye had further knowledge of her departure—Information that you chose to withhold??”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his eyes downcast. “Though it wasna mine to disclose, before.”

Dougal gave a guttural roar and made as if to lunge for Jamie behind Colum’s chair, but before he could say another word, Jamie raised a hand and looked directly at me with that same hard eye as before. “With your permission, Mistress?”

I saw it now, what that look meant.  

It said: be silent.

I nodded and dropped my eyes to my lap, seeing the three of them behind the desk only from the upper periphery of my vision.

“Mistress Beauchamp fled that night…because I spurned her advances.”

I couldn’t have spoken a word if I’d tried. If I could have, it might have been a gut-punched, ‘…Jesus.’

He went on, quiet and careful. “I begged her to forgive me—Told her truly what a fine, beautiful lady she is, and how much I admired and respected her—but that—my allegiances lay elsewhere.”

He placed a hard emphasis on that word, and I thought I saw a shifting, enough so that I chanced a glance upward to witness the significant look Jamie was sharing with Colum. To my astonishment and relief, I thought I saw something dawning in the laird’s expression. Jesus Christ…this was going to work!

“And—being, as we all know—a verra strong-willed and reckless sort of woman, Mistress Beauchamp departed in the night—” He turned his gaze to me, “—too hurt …and vexed to remain…That’s how it was….aye, Mistress?”

I felt myself nodding but I was still staring down at my hands . I could see him in my periphery, his image blurring and distorting as the tears gathered. My throat was burning. With shame.

That’s how it was. Despite his phrasing, he wasn’t asking me. He was telling. Hurt and vexed—the mildest words possible for what I had done to him. His eyes told me the truth: Furious. Heartbroken.

God, what a fool I was. I’d come back, free in my own heart, ready to sing out a ‘ten-minute’ apology, then throw myself into his arms with hardly a thought for just how deeply I had savaged him with my words, my rejection.

His eyes were on the floor, now, and I wanted to tear my own guts out. 

Beauchamp, look at yourself.

I was.

And I saw—vividly—how I had ground his heart into the dirt when he’d handed it to me so tenderly and freely.

I had had my reasons at the time, yes. But God, how I had twisted the knife in his flesh. How I had ripped him.  

He’d made me a gift of himself and everything he would ever be, and to his eyes, I hadn’t even glanced at it before flinging it into the fire.

I did, Jamie! God, I DID glance. I looked and looked and it frightened me because I WANTED it. And I ran because I was married—because of Frank. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I want YOU. 

Can’t you see that in my face? LOOK, Jamie. Find me, here.

“Well… that does seem to explain things.”

I looked up at Colum in surprise, wiping my eyes, which had been streaming. Apparently my regret and shame over what I’d done to Jamie was playing off rather nicely in support of the narrative that I was the lover that had been spurned. Even Dougal’s hostile posture had softened, though his look of distaste had not.

Colum, however, was not done. “Though it doesna altogether account for your return, this morning. If it was our Jamie’s disregard that prompted ye to flee…why come back?”

“I knew almost immediately,” I said quickly, marshaling my tremulous voice and picking up the narrative from Jamie, thanking him silently for handing me a lie with a fighting chance of success, “that it would look dreadful—as it indeed does, I am well aware—to have forsaken my word to the MacKenzies on a mere affaire de coeur.”  

I met eyes with Jamie and lost my breath for a moment. He seemed to sense that my looking at him disrupted my train of thought, and he casually began pacing before the bookshelves, moving to my right and slowly out of my line of sight.

I carried on. “Upon learning that my friends were unreachable, I did consider going south to England—or to Edinburgh or some other place I might have cause to use my skills as a healer, but my honor prompted me to return–”

“Honor,” scoffed Dougal.

“—and to beg the forgiveness of the laird and permission to remain in his service. Which I do now, humbly, under whatever terms you demand.”

Silence reigned, interrupted only by the chirping of the birds.

Colum and Dougal  leaned their heads together, sharing a heated, whispered conference. I wanted desperately to turn in my chair and look at Jamie, touch his hand, thank him, but I forced myself to stay still.

At last, Colum straightened with a look of decision, and surveyed me intently for a long moment before saying, “You may remain at Leoch, Mistress Beauchamp.”

My sigh of relief was far louder than I’d anticipated. “Thank you—THANK YOU, my laird.”

“BUT—” he said, firmly, “you will confine your movements within the walls of the main castle. And an escort will be reinstated until you have earned my forgiveness. And my trust.”

I nodded. “That is—more than fair, sir. I will respect your wishes.”

We made our farewells and I rose, taking the time to give my deepest, most respectful curtsy I could muster, but turned the very first second I was able, tuned so that I could see Jamie, ask where we might go to talk, alone.

But all I saw was the swish of a vanishing plaid.

[[Next week they talk, I promise]]

Keep reading

Imagine TFW Finding You Broken Hearted

Originally posted by themegalosaurus

 “Y/n? Honey, are you ok? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Sam asks, voice full of concern as slowly opens up my door. He tries to find the light, but I stop him before he can reach it.

   “Please, don’t turn on the light” I croak, Sam made his way over to me and sat beside me on the bed. His fingers carded through my long hair, as he waited for me to respond.

“Sammy.” Was all I could let out before my walls came crashing down and the tears started pouring down my checks. Sam kicked off his boots, threw his jacket on my chair, and got under the covers with me. His big, strong arms wrapped around me like a fortress. Cradling me from the outside world.

“It’s ok, Y/n. I’m here. Sammy’s here.” He cooed to me soothingly. He tried comforting me by shushing me and rubbing my back. I about told him everything until I saw a figure pass by in the dim lighted hallway. I raised up to see who was there, and Dean’s piercing green eyes met mine. He saw the broken on my face and it caught his attention. He strolled into my room and laid on the other side of my bed beside me.

“You ok, Baby girl?” Worry crept upon his face. I squeezed his hand tightly, almost as if I was afraid he was going to leave. The tears still weren’t letting up.

“Ayden broke up with me today.” I choked back a sob and hid my face in Sam’s chest. The boys sighed sadly and try to comfort me.

“I know that we haven’t dated for too long, but I really liked him. He was like my best friend outside of you guys and Cas. He was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to, someone who I could be myself with, someone who I felt like actually cared about me, and my feelings.” I explained, as I tried to wipe away the tears.

“I can’t believe he cheated on me with other girls. I thought he loved me, De. Why would he do this to me? I thought he was happy. Am I not enough? He lied to me about everything! He said he loved me, but he didn’t! Not like the way I loved him” I bawled, letting all my emotions out.

“Hey, you look at me.” Dean said sternly.

“You don’t ever, and I mean EVER think that you’re not enough! You got it?” I glanced at Dean and nodded. Trying to be strong. Sam took my face into his hands and met my eyes.

“You’re are enough, Y/n. He was a jerk, and one day you will find the right guy. I promise. Ayden, doesn’t realize how special you are. Don’t let his actions make you feel less. That’s a reflection of him, not you. I know it seems awful right now, but in a couple years you will have forgotten all about him. You’re beautiful, funny, smart, caring, lovable, a kick ass hunter, and you’re Y/n Fucking Winchester! Things will get better, they always do. If they don’t, you know Dean and I always have your back. We will always be here to pick you up when you feel like you can’t go on.” Sam said giving me a small, endearing smile.

“Thanks you guys. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you, both. The same goes for you guys, too. I’m always here for you boys. We’re family.” I took both of their hands in mine, and at the same time they kissed the top of my forehead. Before I knew it, Cas appeared in my room with a big bag of gummi bears, and a solemn look on his face.

“Hello Y/n, I heard that you were upset and I know gummi bears are your favorite. I thought this might cheer you up.” He trudge over to the bed and handed it to me. I gave him a smile and thanked him.

“I will get through this breakup, because I already have the best guys I could ask for.”

After awhile, we all went out to the living room to watch the movie called “Why Him?”. I’ve saw it already, but the boys haven’t so I offered to rewatch it. About halfway through it I fell asleep, and when I woke up the boys were nowhere in sight.

“Sam? Dean? Cas?” I looked around the bunker to see if there was any sign of them, but I had no luck. On my way back to the living room, I went through the library and saw a note lying on the table from Sam.

Dean, Cas, and I will be back later. We had  to pay someone a visit. Love, Sam.

I rolled my eyes and went back to lie down on the couch. Waiting to hear about how much fun the boys had kicking my ex boyfriend’s ass. I fell back asleep with a grin on my face.

@winchesters-favorite-girl @not-moose-one-shots @sisterwinchesterwriter @mousehybrid @nothin-after-79 @hawkeyethenerd @deevvoon @vvinch3st3r @emwinchester1 @straightasdeanwinchester @jude-elizabeth-winchester @fanboyswhereare-you @crazynerdandproud @sassyspngeek @chrisevansthedoritobastard

I’m Yours

Request: hayes imagine where you two are getting ready for an awards show and you have your hair and makeup people helping and you and hayes and the guys are all just hanging out while getting ready and hayes can’t believe how georgous you look and the guys are all shocked so hayes like keeps touching and hugging and kissing you to make everyone know your his. thanks girlie!! love ur blog❤


could you do a hayes grier imagine where him & y/n are dating and they hang out at his house with all the guys?

a/n; I combined the two requests since they kinda go together, and one was kind of vague as to what happens so

Word Count: 810

Pairing: Hayes Grier X Reader

Y/N’s P.O.V

I rolled my eyes as the guys somehow ended up in the kitchen where I was getting ready, I couldn’t turn to face them since I was having my hair curled. The blinds all pulled up to let lots of light in, “what are you guys doing?” I asked, looking as far back towards them as I could, “waiting.” I heard spread out across the room, I sighed, looking back in front of me, the makeup artist just got here so she’s setting up. 

“What kind of look are we going for?” She asked, ignoring the noise from everyone else, “modern, but not crazy.” I answered, I pulled up a picture of my dress for tonight, so she would know what type of colors to use. Hayes appeared in front of us making me smile, “hi babe.” I grabbed his hand as it rested on the counter next to me, “hey, baby.” He smiled at me, glancing back over at the guys who weren’t really paying any attention. 

“You look nice.” I told him, looking him over, he was almost wearing a suit, he was just missing the tie basically, but it looked nice, mature and polished. “Thank you.” He laughed, letting go of my hand as one of the guys called him over. “He’s sweet.” My hairstylist said, tugging gently on a piece of hair, pulling it into an updo, I closed my eyes as the eye shadow brush started coming towards my face. “And so it begins.” I mumbled, hearing the boys get even more rowdy, without a doubt getting documented on Snapchat by Johnson. 

“And here we have Y/N, getting pulled around by her hair.” I heard Johnson, as my head got pulled to the side by my hair, I laughed, “vlog or Snapchat?” I asked, not opening my eyes, since I couldn’t. “Vlog.” He answered, I nodded subtly, not wanting to mess up anything. 

“I just have to get dressed.” I assured Hayes as I walked past him, he grabbed my hand, making me turn towards him. He planted a kiss on my lips before letting me go, normally Madison and I helped each other get into our more elaborate dresses, but she’s out of town right now, so I’m on my own. 

I resisted the urge to bite my lip as I struggled to reach the zipper on my dress, “why couldn’t it be on the side?” I mumbled to myself, sticking my head out into the hall. “Hayes!” I shouted down the stairs, “someones in trouble.” I heard faintly followed by his footsteps thumping up the stairs. Hayes raised his eyebrows at me as I came into his view. “I can’t get the zipper.” I explained turning my back towards him. 

I watched in the mirror in front of me as the dress got pulled together, hugging me just right. It was a simple black dress, snug at the top but slightly looser once it got past my hips, spaghetti straps on top to help hold the v-neck up, cut outs on my waist. But it still had an element of class, it showed skin, but not in an obnoxious way. 

“Well, damn.” Hayes met my eyes in the mirror, I turned in his light grasp of my waist, his hands on the skin showing in the cut outs, “ready?” I asked, reaching to grab his hand. He nodded, asking me if I had everything I needed before we started our descent downstairs. My heels clicked on the wood stairs, slowly but surely everyone started shutting their mouths as I came into view. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks by all the attention, they normally don’t see me this way, it’s normally a “she’s Hayes’ girlfriend and she’s younger than us” way, but now I don’t look like I’m as young as I am. The dress in combination with the hair and makeup ages me, in a good way. 

I cleared my throat, realizing we were all kind of just standing there, I felt Hayes’ hand rest on the small of my back, slightly lower than where it normally is. I glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, I’ll let him have his little moment. 

“Ready?” I asked everyone as we stepped off of the last step, Hayes’ hand still on my back. “Uh, yeah.” The only two who had really stopped looking at me early on were Nash and Gilinsky, since they have girlfriends. “Let’s go then.” I mumbled, walking away from them, feeling Hayes wrap his arm around me some more. A quick kiss left on my temple. “I’m yours, Hayes, you don’t have to keep showing them.” I mumbled, looking up at him as everyone followed behind us. 

“I know but you just look so good.” He whispered in my ear, his eyes shooting a warning glance behind us. 

A brief reminder

When was the last time you took a moment, really took a moment, to appreciate that this:

is a thing that exists? Let me remind you:

  1. Thompson wrote it
  2. Moffatt and Gatiss read it and were like, yup, that’s staying in
  3. Sue was like, hell yes that’s going into production
  4. The director was like, here’s my vision on how to turn this in to reality
  5. It got storyboarded
  6. The DP carefully blocked out potential camera angles
  7. Arwel went and found a dildo
  8. Someone mixed up the batch of jizz to the perfect consistency
  9. And then applied it to Ben C’s face
  10. Meanwhile someone else got the lighting just right so we could clearly see it on his face even in the dim room
  11. Ben C rehearsed it and was like, well obviously I should be kneeling but let me practice my best swishy dabbing, we’ll probably need another take on that
  12. Martin was like, hold on, let me open my mouth wide enough so you can really get the camera right up in there, my tonsils went to method acting school you know
  13. And then after they shot it everyone is looking at the screen on set and are like, yes, good
  14. The literal hours of post production effort to insert Sherlock into John’s mouth
  15. And then they went and added the dabbing sound effects and the swishy sound effects
  16. Moffitsson gets the rough cut and are probably high fiving forever
  17. And finally the BBC commissioners got it and were like 10/10 excellent work

It’s moments like this I remember how much the showrunners love us and want us to have nice things.

“Finn. Finn darlin come back here.” You exclaim; chasing your hyperactive pug. After circling around the park about 3 times, you come to a stop; struggling to catch your breath.”FINN!” You call out, loud enough to startle everyone in a 20 feet radius. Fully rested and hydrated my search continues.”Finnabun! ! Finn sweetheart c’mere.” You tsk, your lips pursing together mocking a kiss sound.”You called?” An accented voice stunned you. You turn around swiftly; your eyes gazing at the alluring view in front of your eyes.”I beg your pardon?” You stutter; finding it difficult for your your eyes to stop staring at this gentleman’s provocative abs.”You called my name darlin.” He beamed graciously; his smile could most likely light up an entire city.”Uhg, no no,” You laughed nervously.”You see I was calling my . . . FINN!” Your dog plunging onto you, licking every inch of your face.”Finn, meet Finn, my dog.” You introduce them both. Finn takes his paw; shaking it in a hand shake motion.”Nice to meet ya broder.” Finn bonds with Finn (aww how cute is that?).”So, I met the adorable dog that is named like me, nice name by the way. Now,what exactly do I have to do to get yer number darlin.”

I don’t let customers enter my line after I turn the light off and put the sign up. They could have 1 item, I still don’t let them and if they join the line I leave once they are next. There is a sign and I told you three times that I won’t assist you. The reason I do this is because of two instances that happened to me.
The first, a gentleman came up with a soda and wanted to check out. I figured I’d be nice and let him, well another joined with one item, then another, and another. Each one with like a soda and chips. This stalled my break by 30 minutes.
Second, a woman arrived with a carton of milk. Being nice I let her, I scanned the item and she then called her husband over. He had two carts full of groceries. I just worked nine hours and wanted to go home.
So from now on once the lane is closed I don’t give a fuck, nobody joins the line.

Deal (Optional Bias)

request: no request, my thoughts were just wandering

genre: fluff

word count: 337

author’s note: so i was daydreaming and i came up with this? idk it’s similar to other scenarios on tumblr, but i wanted to write my own version.

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No Regrets (Part 10 - Final)

Summary: When the reader finally coughs up the courage to ask Bucky out, it turns out, he’s not that interested. Or is he?

CATCH UP: No Regrets Masterlist

A/N: On a fresh wave of confidence in my smut, there’s a little smutty finish to my first Bucky series. Because, you know, Bucky might be old fashioned, but some things never change…

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Light smut and swearing.

Originally posted by hopevandyne

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and escorted you towards the lift. You could feel his fingers tapping on your coat nervously.

‘Impatient?’ You smirked at him. He bit the inside of his cheek as shook his head.

‘Now… behave, little girl…’ he murmured. You straightened up, grabbed his arm and squeezed it closer around your waist.

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Originally posted by secrethideoutme

  • A total romantic
  • Show up to every date with flowers for you
  • Find any excuse to cuddle up beside you
  • That’s why he likes winter the best
  • And uses his frost power
  • Hot chocolate dates
  • Coffee dates
  • Movie dates
  • Cafe dates
  • Concert dates
  • Date dates
  • This boy will find any excuse to have a date with you
  • Spoil you soooo much
  • Buy you a whole bunch of things
  • Wanting all the couple/matching things
  • Getting you matching necklaces, bracelets, clothes, stuffed animals…you name it
  • Wouldn’t be able to resist aegyo
  • So if you want something… just pull out the aegyo
  • You’d be each other’s photographers
  • He’d want a random photoshoot just anywhere
  • Like you could be walking down the street and he’d randomly turn to you and say
  • “Jagi the lighting is perfect right now! Take my picture?”
  • Getting kind of annoyed but how can you resist this little baozi?
  • Being that one boyfriend would clean the house for you just so that you don’t have to stress
  • If you’re stressed, doing anything to make you unstressed.
  • Probably own some pets together
  • The first pet would be named Marshmallow
  • Eating fried chicken together
  • Gummy smiles
  • Hair ruffling
  • Using cute pet names
  • Sharing blankets and hot drinks
  • Innocent random pecks whenever one of you feels like it
  • “You’re so cute~”
  • Honestly a relationship just full of fluffiness
Do Over- Mark

Originally posted by ceohan

As you lay on the ground you could hear all the voices of everyone you met in your entire life.

Your mom’s sweet loving lullabies, your dad’s stern voice turning soft as you gave that one pout that got you whatever you wanted.

Your best friend’s laugh that lit up your day no matter how bad it was, the paramedics who told you sweet things as they called every code for you, your teachers, strangers, everyone.

You looked up at the lights that filled your vision, everything was becoming one.

One big blurr.

“I can’t feel my body.” You barely could whisper out, turning your head to the side, “Please.”

Someone rushed over to you and held your head, supporting your neck, “Oh no! Please stay still, sweetie.” They rushed out.

You looked at them, “I can’t feel my body.” You whispered again.

They looked at you and said, “You got hit by a car, but I promise you’re going to be okay. You just gotta stay awake and fight okay?” 

You let a tear fall down your cheek as they softly set you back down, letting the stars or street lights, whatever they were fill your vision again as thought back on your life.

You thought about what you regretted, not telling the people you cared for that you loved them enough, not going out more, getting an F on that math test. Not hugging more, laughing more, smiling, talking. You regret slamming your door that night and cussing out your mom in your mind after that arguement. 

You started to get cold, those blues, reds, greens, and yellows started to form a moasic of colors in your eyes.

You thought about your mom and dad, your friends, how their life was going to be after tonight. 

You let a tear fall from the side of your eye as you accepted the fact that you were going to die here tonight. 

It all happened so soon.

Tell mom I love her. Don’t let my dad be alone, he may seem tough but he’s actually a big teddy bear, he can’t do it alone. Give my best friend that creme sweater, she always wanted that sweater. Keep my room clean, God knows I never could. Keep my pictures up and when they ask about me tell them that I’m the sunshine that fills up the room on a bright sunny day, or the wind that flows, or that I’m singing in the rain during a storm. Just don’t forget me okay? Tell the paramedic I’m sorry, I tried the best I could, honestly. I just can’t fight anymore. I’m getting the shakes now, last chance for something special to happen, maybe a shooting star or a metor shower, anything. I’m tired, I know I was supposed to stay awake but I’m so tired. 

You finished your thought with a smile and tears falling down your face.

You closed your eyes and let life slip from your possession.

“Hey, wake up.” A voice said.

You stirred and opened your eyes, you were still on the ground.

Everyone was gone, the world seemed to be so quiet, so still.

“I’m here to give you a choice.” 

You looked over at the man who was leaning against the car that hit you.

He was beautfiul.

“Are you an angel?” You asked, looking at him. 

He chuckled and smiled down at you, “You could say that.”

You felt a strong, strange connection to him. Had you met before?

“We have met before, you just don’t remember.” He said, “We were kids, few and far worlds from here.”

You looked at him in confusion.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m here to give you two choices, you can only choose one.”

He looked at you with heart felt eyes, “ You can either stay with me and I’ll take you to a place where theres no pain, no suffering. The place where we met. Where we fell in love, where our kids are and our life is, where you belong. Or..” 

You urged him to continue “Or you can go back to the day before this night and change things.” 

What do you do?

[imagine] waking up next to hiphop unit

This boy would probably wake up before you and start mumbling/rapping nonsensical sentences. Something along the lines like, “My jagi is asleep, sleeping in my sheets… Let’s check the weather for Seoul, Korea, today’s forecast is-” and you’d mumble for him to stop but he’d just turn over and smile brightly at you like “Today’s news: my jagi is grumpy and tired” And you can’t help but smile at him because who could be mad at jeon wonwoo?? He’d continue singing sentences to different song tunes until you wake up a bit more. 

Originally posted by sassyminghao

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red-automaton-viii  asked:

WOOOO sending in my first ask to this blog! Okay I really liked the idea of human s/o turning into a cybertronian by the allspark and was wondering could you do the reaction of MTMTE Whirl, Brainstorm, Megatron, and then TFP Wheeljack and Optimus? Thanks!


Whirl is weirded out and not sure how to feel about it. He bounces between excited and indifferent. Yea, now you’re less likely to get hurt on accident but he’s also… not pumped. To him, Cybertron is a sucky place full of sucky people (like functionists) and he actually sorta liked that you were human. Of course, this doesn’t change the way he feels about you as you. He asks you how you can be okay with this sudden change to your body. He… might be projecting just a bit.

Brainstorm is gonna study! He asks you all sorts of questions and checks you over (and over and over and over.) You have to get him to chill down. He also wants you to go to the medbay regularly. Until you’re comfortable in your new body he’s protective and hovers.

Megatron is… concerned. His main concern is your comfort and wellbeing, but when he gets the chance he’s going through old texts to find any similar instances. If you’d like to find a way to change back he’ll stop at nothing to get it for you; he also has a long conversation with you about your choice. Cybertronians live a very long time; you’ll outlive your friends and family. If you chose to stay Cybertronian he teaches you what you need to know and invites you to live with him after the Lost Light’s quest is over.


Optimus is worried. He wants you back to your old human self; not that he likes you any less (in fact he likes the feeling of having you on his arm) but this is a dangerous situation. If the Decepticons find out about the transformation it could have devastating effects. And even they only see you you’re in danger. He doesn’t want you to go on missions, and does everything he can to reverse the what the Allspark did.

Wheeljack is excited. He can’t wait to teach you how to fight, how great highgrade is, how to fly the Jackhammer. Um, oh. This isn’t easy for you, is it? He slows down and walks you through how to take care of your new body. He sits with you during your visits to the medbay. From then on he’s the Most Supportive Boyfriend.  

Stupid Misunderstanding

Requested by @belleorleslie - Can you do a liam/reader where liam is jealous of how the reader interacts with brett? With a fluffy ending please 💕 (sorry for sending so many requests omg)
As I jogged up the stairs of my house, walking to my bedroom, a smile spread across my face. I had gotten the answer I had been spending all week trying to get and I was beyond excited to text Mason to tell him. When I opened my bedroom door, I hit the light next to the door frame and walked in my room shutting the door behind me. I felt a pair of eyes on me, my heart falling to the pit of my stomach before I turned my head to the left to see Liam standing in my room, looking out my window, with his arms crossed. I let out a sigh of relief and a chuckle before I walked towards my bed.
“You could have told me, that you were there. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I said sitting on the edge of my bed, plugging my phone into my charger, kicking my shoes off before sitting Indian style. I looked over at Liam who was still gazing into the darkness of the night time, whenever Liam and I usually hang out, he is a chatterbox. I have just been so busy with Brett this week that him and I haven’t hung out since last Friday night.
“Liam? Are you okay?” I asked, getting worried as to why he wasn’t saying anything or even looking in my direction. He just chuckled, turning on his heel and walking towards me, but still not looking at me. I turned my head slightly like a dog, confused as to what was going on.
“You didn’t seem to care if I was okay at all this week, why should it matter now?” He asked, his eyes finally meeting mine, his eyes brimmed with tears. I immediately jumped up from the bed and walked over to him, trying to reach out to grab his arm, but he took two steps back, causing me to freeze.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, knowing that he was talking about Brett. Brett and Liam had some bad blood but he was okay with Mason talking to him, but I couldn’t? In all honesty, I really hadn’t thought about Liam this week, which was beyond strange for me, seeing as he is all I thought about, all of the time.
“You know exactly what I am talking about. Do you really need me to say it?” Liam asked, looking down at the ground again, causing me to sigh and nod, even though he couldn’t see it. Liam took my silence as a yes and began pacing my room, looking everywhere but me, while doing so.
“You and Brett. What’s going on between you two? I mean, one minute you are arm and arm with me, walking to History and the next you are sitting outside school with Brett, giggling like a little school girl.” He said making me scoff and shake my head back and forth. I hadn’t paid Liam a lot of attention this week but I was only doing it to help out Mason.
“I mean, I thought you and I had something, I thought you really cared about me and when I finally earn enough courage to tell you how I feel about you, I walk into school to see you and Brett flirting with one another! Touching his arm and laughing at his every joke and giving each other ‘googoo’ eyes!” He yelled, taking me by surprise, his eyes beginning to glow a slight yellow tint, his anger and jealousy boiling up inside him.
“For god sakes (Y/N), I’m in love with a girl who likes the typical hot guy. What does he have that I don’t? I mean sure, he is taller than be but he is an asshole! I don’t understand, I just don’t get it!” He yelled, once more, his pacing coming to a stop in front of me, our eyes meeting for the first time since he started his little rant.
“I don’t know why I came here! You have something with him and I’m just the boy who thought that you liked me! I’m such an idiot! Why did I ever think that you wo-“ Liam started but I cut him off by grabbing his face with both my hands and crashing my lips to his. His hands still in the hair, his whole body freezing in shock. When I felt him not kiss back, I pulled away and took a step back from him. Now it was my turn to talk.
“I love you Liam. I only hung out with Brett this week, to find out if he was into Mason. Mason practically begged me to. I hated the idea, I don’t like Brett at all, certainly not in the way you are thinking. God, I love you so much. I didn’t want to spend time with Brett, I wanted to spend time with you.” I said, looking at Liam the whole time who just stood there in disbelief. His eyes, back to normal color, tears gone, his arms at his side, eyes locked with mine.
“You are all I want Liam, I don’t care about anyone else the way that I care about you. I would never intentionally hurt you. Hell, it hurt me knowing that I had to ignore you. I’m glad you came here, and I’m glad you said all of these things because I was going to text Mason tonight and tell him I was done and then I was going to rush over to your house and tell you everything, down to how I felt about you, but I guess you beat me to it.” I said, breaking eye contact with him, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. I could feel my eyes start to water but before I could do anything about it, I felt one of Liam’s hands under my chin, urging me to look at him while the other rested on my hip, pulling me closer to him.
“You love me?” He asked, the hand that was on my chin, now cupping my face. I just nodded, knowing that my voice would break if I tried to talk. Liam, rested his forehead on mine, his hand now in my hair, while one of my hands reached up to touch his neck and jawline as he kissed my nose softly. Once tear fell from my eye which Liam wiped away as soon as it fell and pecked my lips a few times.
“I. Love. You.” He said in between each kiss before he kissed me for longer than the other kisses. It was like when I kissed him but he was kissing back this time. Our lips moved in sync, both our emotions running high from what had just happened. We broke apart with a smile on each of our faces.
“I’m sorry I yelled, I was just jealous. I thought Brett was stealing you from me.” He said causing me to shake my head.
“No one could ever do that. I’m sorry I ignored you for a week.” I said causing him to hum at my apology but his smile grew wider at my words. The rest of the night, we traded sweet nothings, while cuddling in my bed. At some point during the night I heard Liam, snoring softly in my ear as he spooned me, making me smile sleepily as I was wrapped up in the arms of the boy that I loved. Liam does really mean the world to me, and no one will ever change that.

You're Going To Be A Dad: Brendon Urie

I slowly get up from the ground, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Like a slug i move to the sink, turning on the faucet. I stare at the water trickle out as I think of what could cause this sudden illness. Do I have the flu, or is it something else?

I rinse out my mouth, turning off the faucet, and then creeping back into the bedroom. I roll into bed, wrapping myself in the comforter trying to warm up. I start at the ceiling, even though the light is off. My mind wanders to my husband of two years, Brendon. Unfortunately he’s away for the next couple of weeks doing interviews, a few photo shoot, and then a few concerts.

I wish that he was here to comfort me as I deal with being sick, what ever the sickness may be. But, I don’t want to stop or hold him back from chasing his dreams. I often find myself thinking about what the future with hold for Brendon and me as we grow older together Will we have children? Will Panic! last until our own kids are teenagers? There’s so many questions about our future that are left unanswered.

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Settling In

This ficlet is part of the Claire returns early with Bree AU which begins with A Ringing Phone and a Folder.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Eavesdropping

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as The Nature of Choice.

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU.

As always, let me know what you think.

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