you have met with a terrible fate

anonymous asked:

pls i want to hear all bob-kent family headcanons

Didn’t anyone tell you to be careful what you wish for?  Okay, fine, but you asked for it.  Where do I start?

  • Kent and Bob officially first met at some team picnic thing that the Zimmermanns do every year for Jack’s team before the season starts
    • Kent totally played it cool by calling Bob “Mr. Zimm’s Dad”
    • “Son, I’ll have you know that I was Zimms before Jack was Zimms.”
    • Kent just calls him Mr. Z
  • By some twist of fate, the Zimmermanns ended up being Kent’s billet family
    • He would basically pick up all of Bob’s bad habits
      • Walking around the house in his boxers
      • Eating dry cereal from the box
      • Feet on the coffee table
    • Kent laughs at Bob’s jokes, which is a terrible development for Alicia and Jack.
  • Bob taught Kent a few basic cooking tips, like how to hold a knife and how to properly chop an onion
    • Bob tried to teach Kent how to juggle knives, but Alicia put a stop to that pretty quickly
    • Kent still can’t cook, but he as least knows how to add pork, carrots, and celery to some top ramen to give it some “pizzazz”.
    • (That’s Bob’s word.  He keeps trying to make it stick, but it’s just embarrassing for everyone, especially when he does the jazz hands)
  • Kent’s favorite food is Bob’s Lasagna
    • Seriously, he would sell his Stanley Cup Ring for a tray of that shit
    • Bob also makes the best sugar pie on the planet and this is ABSOLUTELY NOT UP FOR DEBATE
  • Bob was the first person Kent came out to.
    • He did it at the end of the season, the day before he was headed back to New York. He figured if things didn’t work out, he could just not come back.
    • Kent seriously thought about quitting because hockey wasn’t for “people like him”.
    • Bob squashed that idea pretty damn fast and gave Kent the biggest, warmest hug he’s ever known. 
    • Kent cried like a baby
    • “So, is there someone on the team you like?” *nudge nudge*
    • Kent wouldn’t know the answer to that for another year.
  • Bad Bob did NOT teach Kent how to drive.  There are a couple of important reasons for this:
    • Bob cannot drive.  Yes, the government gave him a license, but you do not want this man behind the wheel of a 1-ton vehicle.
    • Besides, he was too busy teaching Jack.
    • Alicia teaches Kent how to drive, and this is why Kent can shift gears like he’s 2 Fast 2 Furious.
  • Kent accidentally calls him “Dad” exactly once.
  • The last thing Kent heard from Bob was a voicemail saying, “This is not your fault.”
    • Kent still has this saved on his phone
  • Kent’s watch isn’t new. Bob sent it to him as a gift after the 2009 draft.
    • Engraved on the back, it says: Your Team is Your Family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten
    • (Jack has a matching watch, but he… didn’t keep it)

Tangled in a thread of destiny you are power-less to change…your soul to never know peace or freedom…bound to endlessly lose, reborn of hatred enterally for reasons you know not of…you’ve met with quite a terrible fate haven’t you?”

Halloween Spirit- Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios [When He Confesses]


[f/n]= first name

When He Confesses

    Lately, my captor has been acting odd. Which, quite frankly, is making me really nervous. He has become kind of distant, almost like he’s avoiding me. I have no idea what he’s thinking, or what he’s planning. Is this it? Has he decided to finally kill me off? I thought we were close, that we were actually friends. I seriously screwed up by letting my guard down. I let myself forget, but the reality is that he is psychotic. Who knows when he’ll snap?


“Slendie?” I call hesitantly. Lately, he has been locking himself in the library and refuses to let me be near him. I have no idea what it is I did wrong. He doesn’t respond, so I try one more time. “Slendie?”

    “Not now, [f/n],” he replies beyond the closed oaken doors. “I’m preoccupied at the moment, so I request you to leave me be.”

    “Oh….well, ok. I’ll see you later, then,” I respond, hurt by his words. I keep my hand planted against the door for a little longer before dejectedly walking away. If Slendie is bored of me, angry, or whatever it is that is going on with him, what does that say about my future? He’s never endangered my life before, but he is known for killing people. Maybe he’s done with me.

    You’d think I’d be fearful for my life, but more than anything, I’m just plain hurt. I glance outside a window, trees surrounding everything. I’ve never left the manor without Slendie before, but surely I’m allowed outside on my own. After all, escape is futile when Slendie can teleport to wherever I am. Unable to handle being inside the manor with its stifling atmosphere any longer, I decide to get some fresh air. So I head out the door, without Slendie by my side.

    I thought being outside would cheer me up, but my thoughts become more prominent as I walk past the endless stretch of trees. I find myself getting more depressed the longer I walk. I become so lost in my thoughts that time flies by without me noticing. It’s only when I notice the forest is much more darker than usual that I realize it is night time. And, of course, I’m lost. Getting lost in this forest is unavoidable. But what really upsets me is that it’s night time, and Slendie still hasn’t come to bring me back to the manor.

    I settle down on the ground and wrap my arms around my knees, trying to huddle for warmth in this cold night air. Maybe if I wait long enough, Slendie will come and get me. I know trying to walk back is impossible. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe this is my opportunity to escape. I mean, this much time has passed without him bothering to fetch me. If I wander around long enough, I’m bound to find a way out of the forest. After all, while very few, peoplehave managed to escape before. Slendie’s powers only work in the confines of this forest and other certain areas, so if I escape, I’m safe.

    Except….I don’t want to leave him. Which is completely crazy. He’s a monster, for Christ’s sake. I should be fleeing him without a second thought. But monster or not, he’s been nothing but a gentleman to me. He’s kind, gentle, caring, supportive. He’s better than most men I’ve met in my life. And to the other Creepypastas, he’s like a mother/father figure to them. He takes care of them despite their flaws, their disfigurements, their fragile minds. I mean, I don’t know why it is that he kills people, but I know there is some good in him. And that goodness in him makes me want to stay.

    So I stay in place, waiting for him to find me. But if he doesn’t get me by morning….I’ll leave. Time passes for what feels like forever, and still no sign of Slendie. When I think he might really not come, my eyes start to sting. I try not to, but I end up crying. I bury my face onto my knees as tears silently trickle down my face and stain my jeans.

    “[f/n]?” a voice gently calls me. It’s Slendie. But I don’t want to look at him, for my face is surely blotched from crying. So I quietly keep my face buried, not trusting my voice to not break with tears. “[f/n], what’s wrong?” I feel a hand grip my shoulder, providing warmth. But I remain quiet.

    I hear him sigh, then suddenly I’m scooped into his arms. “Wha- no, Slendie!” I cry, my hands flying to my face to cover it up.

    “You were crying, were you not?” he prods. I don’t respond, because I really don’t want to admit it. We stay like this, silence surrounding us, before Slendie eventually says, “Do you want to leave, [f/n]?”

    I pull my hands away in shock. “What?” I breath, caught off guard.

    “If you do not want to be here, I can return you to your home,” he tells me. He’s offering to let me go? Any fear I had of him evaporates into the air. Unable to help it, I’m bawling once again. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

    “I-I thought y-you h-hated me!” I stumble out through the tears. “Y-you didn’t want m-me around any-anymore, so I thought, I thought you were t-through w-with me.” I hate this! I hate crying in front of him! But the relief that flooded through me broke the dam I had built to contain my emotions.

“No!” Slendie cries, his composure crumbling. “If I tired of you, you would not be alive. But I could never tire of you. The reason I did not want you around me is that, well, I was researching matters concerning you.”

“What matters?” I ask him, a hiccup escaping my lips. At least the crying slowed a bit.

“There is something different about you, [f/n],” he tells me seriously. “You are human, yet not quite. Similar to Jeff and Toby, you have an aura about you that makes you different from the average human. And yet, you’re not exactly like Jeff and Toby, or I would know it. I have not met one like you, so your circumstances are rather curious to me. But….some of the information I have gathered could concern you. I do not want to worry you, so I tried to keep you away from all of it.”

“Why would it worry me?” I ask.

Slendie merely shakes his head. “I want to make sure my information is accurate before I inform you. But, will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” I reply softly. “Honestly, I’ve grown rather attached to you and the others.”

Slendie squeezes me slightly, and if he had facial features, something tells me he would be smiling. “[f/n]?” he ventures.


“I have grown rather fond of you. That is, what I mean to say is, I have fallen in love with you,” he tells me, nervousness slipping into his words.

My face flushes in heat as I stare at him, wide eyed. “I-I…,” I stumble out. I never realized it. And what about me? These feelings I have for Slendie, is it love? It all hits me in a rush. Yes, this is love. I’ve never met someone as good to me as Slendie is, and I’ve fallen for him harder than I thought could be possible. Haha, I’m truly crazy. “I love you, too.” I tell him.

He manages to life a hand to stroke my hair off of my tear stained face. “Shall we return home?” he asks me, loving warmth wrapped around his words.

I smile lovingly at him in return. “Of course,” I respond warmly.

Turns out, even monsters can be loved.



    “Ben?” I call to the powered off T.V. It has been turned off for days now, meaning days have passed since I’ve last seen Ben. It has me really worried. Is he sick? Did he run into some kind of problem? Does he need help? Without Ben around for me to ask questions, I had turned to Slendie, but he tells me there is nothing to worry about. Ben is simply remaining in the digital world, for whatever reason. But the worry is still there, and I wonder if he is merely avoiding me. If so, what did I do? Is it because I kept beating him at video games?

    “Ben, please answer me,” I beg. Silence. Well, I don’t want to piss him off, but maybe if I play Majora’s Mask, he’ll interact with me. So I turn on the T.V.,place the cartridge into the console, and grab the controller. The menu pops up, but instead of clicking my file, I click the one titled BEN. I roam around for a while, playing the game normally and hoping Ben will show up. I play for hours straight, but still no Ben. But I’m not one to give up, so I keep playing despite my body complaining.

Eventually, text shows up saying, ‘You’ve met a terrible fate.’

“Ben?” I call. “What’s going on?”

‘You should have left when you had the chance,’ new text says.

I scoff at the message. “Oh, sure, just let me waltz right out of here,” I say sarcastically. “Seriously, though, I don’t want to leave. Believe it or not, I’m having fun here. I’ve always fantasised being in this situation. I admit, at first, I was utterly terrified. But now that we’re friends, I think everything is actually pretty awesome here.”

I stay silent for a moment, something dawning on me. “Do you want to get rid of me?” I ask quietly. Fear edges into me at the thought. Am I an annoyance to him now? What if he decides to get rid of me? Out of everyone here, Ben is the only one who doesn’t kill anybody. He just scares the shit out of people. I thought I was safe with him, but what if I’m wrong?

But suddenly Ben’s face appears on the screen, eying me. “Why do you like it here?” he questions me.

I’m caught off guard, but I recover enough to respond. “Are you kidding me? Everyone here is like straight out of a horror story. I worship this stuff! Plus, I get to play so many video games with the best gaming partner ever.”

Ben’s lips twitch ever so slightly into a small smile, but he still looks forlorn. “I kidnapped you. You’re a normal human being, even if something seems different about you. Me, I’m just a digitised ghost. We’re utterly different. You don’t belong here. You should just leave.”

I cross my arms stubbornly. “Ben, get out of there,” I demand.

He scoffs at me. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he asks challengingly.

“A normal human being,” I respond. “Please, Ben, just do it.” He doesn’t argue, and soon he materializes in front of me. I lift my hand and ruffle his hair, then move my hand to his cheek to pinch his skin. “Ouch!”

“Some ghost you are,” I say as I poke at his cheek. “What kind of ghost can be physically touched? And can have awesome powers that control the digital world? You’re the coolest ghost ever, if you ask me.” His cheeks color at my compliment, and I continue. “Everyone here is different, you know. The fact that I’m not like you guys at all makes me different, too, so I’m not exactly normal. But Ben, I’ll ask again. Do you want to get rid of me?”

“No!” he exclaims a little too loudly. He clears his throat embarrassedly and tries again. “No. I just thought you wanted to leave, is all.”

“Well, I don’t, so if you’re done brooding, let’s get our game on,” I say with a grin as I toss him a controller. I insert the first game I find, too thrilled that everythings resolved to care what we play.

However, before we can start the game, Ben says, “[f/n]?”

“Hmm?” I hum.

He edges close to me, his finger tracing my lips. My heart jumps to my throat as he smirks at me. “What kind of ghost can be physically touched,” he murmurs as he spreads his hand across my cheek. “What kind of ghost falls in love with a human?”

“B-Ben what are y-you-,” I stumble out, but he interrupts me.

“I love you,” he tells me, his voice husky.

“I, um, I, uh,” I stutter out. I swallow heavily and scramble away from him. My heart pounds rapidly, and I can’t deny that I, too, am in love. But my heart is beating too fast and my breathing is too irregular for me to speak. Ben looks stung, like I had slapped him. I quickly grab my phone and start rapidly clicking buttons. I shyly hold up the phone, the message, ‘I love you, too,’ displayed on it.

Ben blinks in surprise, but then breaks into a wide grin. “Then come here and be my player two,” he demands. I smile warmly at him as I scoot over to where he is. I settle beside him, but then he says, “Nope, wrong spot.” His hands grip my shoulders and suddenly I find myself sitting in his lap. “That’s better.”

I bite down the giddy giggle that bubbles in my throat, and instead say, “Let’s play.”

He seriously is the best gaming partner ever.


Jeff the Killer:

“Jeff?” I say questioningly. “What are you doing?”  One minute we’re watching a horror movie, the next he’s all up in my face. His eyes are narrowed like a snake’s as he inspects me.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“That’s never good,” I say with a smile.

But he ignores my comment. “What is it about you?”

“Um, what do you mean?” I ask, confused. His hand reaches out and tugs a strand of my hair. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Why won’t I kill you?” he asks to himself, a question that makes me nervous. Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that question. And if Jeff doesn’t either, what reason does he have to keep me alive? His eyes glint with confusion and something else, something dangerous.

“Jeff?” I call his name a bit fearfully. My eyes widen when he slowly pulls out his knife. “Jeff!” I see hesitation flash in his eyes, but it doesn’t stop his knife from swinging through the air. I swiftly throw myself to the ground, avoiding the knife. I scramble to my feet and dash to the doorway. I feel a hand grip my arm roughly and I am tossed to the floor. Jeff’s face is soon close to mine as he pins me to the ground. He lifts the knife, as if to stab me, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Why?” he hisses. “I could kill my family! But why can’t I kill you?”

Tears pour down my face as I start to sob. “Jeff, do you hate me?” I ask, my voice trembling. I could be begging for my life, yet that is the question that spills from my mouth.

Jeff doesn’t respond as he stares at me. Tears continue to trickle down my face as I stare into his eyes. Eventually, I hear the knife clatter to the ground. “No, I don’t,” he whispers as he wipes the tears off my face. “I thought I didn’t need anyone. Family, friends, nobody. Yet you prance into my life, and suddenly I have someone I need. I hate it.”

I swallow my tears as I lift my hand. I stroke his cheek softly, refusing to remove my eyes from his. “If you hate it, why don’t you kill me? I’ll be gone and you won’t need me anymore.” What the hell am I saying? But yet, the words spill forth from my mouth, my heart painfully throbbing with the question. I….I love Jeff. I love him, but if he wants to be rid of me….The thought stabs at my heart as I stare at him, my eyes begging for his answer.

“That’s just it. I can’t!” he exclaims. “The thought of you being gone hurts, and it shouldn’t. I threw all negative feelings away. I always felt so, so good afterwards. And when you came along, I felt even better! But then I started imagining you leaving, or you dying, and I became scared. Me, scared, for Christ’s sake! And I felt anguish and loneliness, feelings I had sworn to never feel again. So I wanted to get rid of you, to get rid of the source of those emotions. But….I couldn’t.”      

    “I won’t leave,” I say softly. “You’re a jerk, you know that? You steal me away from my life, but not only that, you steal my heart to boot! I love you, Jeff, and it kills me. You go and do things that hurt me like this, but then you show me a part of yourself that reminds me of a scared child. I don’t know how I should feel about you!” I sniffle as more tears leak from my eyes. Damn my heart for falling for a psychopath!

“You love me?” Jeff asks incredulously.

“Yes, damn it!” I snap. “Despite everything you’ve put me through, I’ve come to need you, too. You’re not all bad, you know. Like how you’re so protective of me, or how you always try to make me smile, or how you’re always making me laugh with your snide remarks…,” I notice Jeff is smirking at me at this point. I blush embarrassedly as I tear my gaze from his eyes.

However, his hand forces me to look back at him. “Besides losing you, you know what else I was scared of?” he asks.

“What?” I mumble.

“The thought that you would never love me,” he responds. “You see, turns out I fell in love with you. But I never thought you’d feel the same.” I can’t help it as sobs start to shake my body, my system overloaded with relief. Alarmed, Jeff sits up, bringing me with him. He holds me against him as he rubs my back comfortably. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice coated in guilt.

“I-I thought y-you w-were going to, to kill me!” I sob. “Th-that you hated me!”

“I love you,” he whispers over and over as he rocks me soothingly. I sob until all of the fear, tension, and anguish is out of my system. Then, when it’s all over, I let love wash over me.

“I love you too, you idiot,” I mumble against his neck. I feel him shiver as my lips move against his skin. “And if you ever do something like that to me again, I’m going to use all those self-defense moves you taught me against you.”

He laughs at my threat. “Trust me, darling, it’ll never happen again! You’re my property, and I can’t damage my treasure.”

Why did I have to fall for an idiot? Idiot or not, though, he’s officially my idiot.


Ticci Toby:

“Hey, Toby I-Toby?” I stop in mid sentence when I see that Toby is hunched over as he sits on his bed. Gloominess surrounds the air like a heavy fog, something that is extremely abnormal for Toby. His head is cradled in his hands, depression weighing him down. “Toby, what’s wrong?” His head shifts as he glances in my direction, but he doesn’t respond. I quietly sit on the bed beside him. “You can talk to me.”

“I know why I was drawn to you,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” I gently ask him.

“When I first met you, I mistook you for my sister,” he continues. “My sister, she died a long time ago. You had a warm, welcoming air about you. When I saw you, I immediately felt at home. Like I did with my sister.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him sadly as I rub his back comfortingly.

“I had amnesia,” he tells me abruptly. “I didn’t remember her, or anything about my past. But now, I remember everything.” His body starts to tremble as his twitching increases in frequency. “I-I killed h-him! I b-burned everything! I-I-I-!”

I stop his ranting as I pull him into my arms. “Hush, now,” I whisper gently. “It’s ok, Toby, I’m right here for you. It’s alright.”

He holds on to me desperately as he trembles violently. He takes deep, shuddering breaths before continuing. “I became a m-monster. I k-killed my own dad, I b-burned my house. I destroyed m-my family.”

“Why?” I ask him as I stroke his head. At this point, Toby killing people doesn’t phase me (a fact that bothers me, but it’s a fact nonetheless). But for some reason, he’s really shaken up by this revelation. I need to know why he was driven to be who he is now.

His nails dig into my back as he tries to explain, but I ignore the pain. “I-I was tired. Of dealing w-with my d-dad. His beatings, his dr-drunkness, his shouting. I couldn’t d-deal with the abuse an-anymore. With my si-sister gone, I just couldn’t. So I k-killed him. And forgot e-everything.”

“Oh, Toby,” I breath as I hold him even tighter. I feel a fury burn inside of me at the thought of Toby’s dad abusing him. How dare he! “It wasn’t your fault! Your dad had no right to do what he did, you didn’t deserve it. He was a worthless piece of shit who wasn’t even capable of loving his own son. He deserved what happened to him. You are not a monster.”

“I-I’m not?” he whimpers.

“Of course you’re not. You’re human, just like me. Nothing more, nothing less,” I assure him.

His grip on me relaxes as he calms down. “[f/n]?” he says questioningly.


“I really love you,” he says as he snuggles against my neck.

“W-what?” I stumbled out, my heart picking up in pace.

“I love you lots!” he tells me, his usual cheerfulness returning to his words.

I bury my face in his shoulder, his hair tickling my face. I find it hard to breath, let alone speak! But I have to say the words that have been floating around in my head for a long time now. “I love you, too,” I mumble. He pulls away so he can rub his nose against mine. “T-T-Toby! No, stop!” I don’t think my heart can take it!

“Say it again!” he demands.

“I-I love you,” I say shyly.


“No!” I cry.

“Aww, please?” he begs.

“I have a lifetime to tell you I love you, ok?” I tell him.

“I love you,” he tells me warmly.

I fell in love with such a goofball. No matter what others say, he’s no monster.


Eyeless Jack:

“Jack, can you please explain yourself?” I ask, irritated and confused. It’s the middle of the night, and I wake up to find a blue mask watching me silently. Hey, at least I avoided having a heart attack after screaming my lungs out!

“I was hungry,” Jack mutters.

“And?” I prod.

“I was going to eat your liver,” he says bluntly. Wait, what!?

“What!?” I shriek. “Jack, get off me!”

“But I don’t want your liver, after all,” he continues. “I want your heart.” He trails his finger from where my liver would be to where my heart is, causing said heart to beat uncontrollably.

“Are you being serious?” I ask nervously. Maybe Jack is pulling my leg? I really hope so. But sadly, he’s not. As he pulls out a surgical knife, my stomach drops. “Jack, no!” I shove him off me, dashing for the door. I make it out and I continue to run aimlessly down the halls, hoping to outrun him. But Jack is extremely fast, and quiet on his feet. One glance behind me reveals he is right on my heels. An intake of air meant to catch my breath becomes a shrill scream as I feel myself being tackled to the floor. I struggle against him, but all my effort is futile.

“Shh,” Jack breaths to silence me. “It’s ok. It won’t hurt.”

“I’ll die, Jack!” I sob.

“No, it’ll be a transplant,” he tells me, trying to be reassuring. But it fails epicly as I try to struggle harder. “Then your heart will belong to me.”

“Why do you even want my heart?” I ask him, tears choking me.

“Because I don’t want anyone else to have it. You belong to me, and me only.”

“What?” I say, utterly confused. “You don’t need to cut out my heart for me to belong to you! That’s not how it works!”

He tilts his head in confusion. “But if I have it, no one else will.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll belong to you,” I say, trying to remain calm. Surely I can talk him out of this. Jack has done some pretty weird shit for as long as I’ve known him, but he is still able to be sensible. “In order to belong to you, I have to choose to belong to you.”

His grip on me relaxes as my words soak in. “Then, do you choose to belong to me?” he asks.

“It depends,” I say softly. “Why do you need me to belong to you?”

“Because…,” he trails. “Because, I….I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Your answer determines if I can belong to you or not,” I push.

“There is a human word for it. What was it?” he asks himself. I say nothing as I wait for him to think about it. Eventually, he whispers, “Love. I think I am in love with you.”

I sigh in relief. “If I belong to you, does that mean you will never kill me or cut me up?” I ask. I have to be sure!

“I would never kill you!” Jack exclaims, louder than I have ever heard him. “And I would have no reason to ever cut you up.”

“Good,” I say with a warm smile. “Because I love you, too. My heart belongs to you, without you having to cut it out. But please, can you get off of me now?”

“Yes,” he replies as he helps me to my feet. His hand continues to grip mine, spreading warmth to my cold hand.

“And please, don’t ever, ever do something like that again,” I demand sternly.

“Ok,” he replies, sounding embarrassed as well as guilty. I guess he realizes that his behavior was way too much.

“Good. Now come on, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted. After,” I emphasise, “you put away that knife.”

“Ok. Can I sleep with you?” he asks, sounding like a little boy.

“Of course, but no funny business,” I say with a smile as I pull him to my bedroom.

He’s utterly dangerous, but truly, he’s just different from everyone. But I know I can handle him, because I understand him best. I love my psycho, despite everything. Maybe I’m a psycho, too?

A Man Of No Consequence, chapter 6

*runs over to Tumblr with open arms, seeing all the Ardyn goodness flooded on my dashboard*

I MISSED YOU SO MUCH OHMAGERRD ;_________________;

Originally posted by bayonettaton

A Man Of No Consequence - Ardyn x fem Reader (NSFW)
COMPLETE. All chapters may contain spoilers!

CH 1: Into The Lion’s Mouth
CH 2: Famous Seafood
CH 3: The Covenant
CH 4: Blind Spot
CH 5: The Revelation
CH 6: In The Lap of The Gods
CH 7: Across the Seas
CH 8: In The Lap of The Gods, Revisited
CH 9: Callings
CH 10: Hand of a King, Heart of a King
CH 11: Into the Dark
CH 12: Breath Of The Glacian
CH 13: Redemption
CH 14: Cure for Insomnia
CH 15: A Gentleman’s Agreement

- - -

Chapter 6: In the lap of the Gods

You sit on the bed, wrapped in the white satin sheet, hugging your knees to your chest. The sheet feels cool against your skin, a pleasant change to the burning heat still lingering all over your body.

Keep reading


Summary: Alexander and Laurens admit LAMS is real. 

*Lauren’s POV*

A girl catches your eye, and suddenly she looks all too familiar. You tug on Alexander’s cardigan, “Isn’t that the girl who broke your heart?” You nod in the direction to the brunette wearing the navy sweater.

Alexander glances at her, then shakes his head. “I broke her heart. At least that’s how I tell it.”

I stare at Alexander, an eye of worry and astonishment. rises through both of us. He stares at the woman, longingly, while I look at him the same way. If only he were to know…

“Gentlemen!” A stern voice rings throughout the hall, and conversation falls flat. Mr. Washington continues, “Escort your ladies out into the lobby, we have some business of a new nation to discuss.” He bows his head and signs for us to begin moving. I watch the lady link arms and follow a kind looking man out of the room with the rest of the company, only to have my eyes stand still on Alexander’s meandering eyes and his nail in his mouth as he nervously chewed on it.

“Just admit I’m right,” I murmured to him, referencing how she ultimately dissected his heart and proceeded to weave it in his body again upside down.

“Laurens, please, not now.”

We shuffle to our seats, and begin the long process of reviewing the Bill of Rights. So many of us agree with it, however many other’s don’t… it’s a mess in the court. It didn’t really matter to me, but I had to keep my seat in Congress so I paid attention.

Every now and then I felt eyes looking at me, staring into my skull, and every time I turned around it was Alexander- his beautiful arched brows defining the way his eyes bent and molded with his sharp face.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck here a while”, I say, trying to break my own awkwardness of finding the beautiful man staring at me. Alexander just looked down and smirked, then resumed his focus on Madison’s lobbying and ranting of the proposal.

The meeting finally ends, and Alexander walk ourselves out not bothering to pick up a lady in the lobby. “Madison’s ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow,” Alex laughed as we were leaving the congress hall.

I didn’t have the time I wanted to respond when Jefferson cut in, “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

Alexander stopped himself, and met eyes with Jefferson, glowering his eyes at the man across the room. “Thomas, who are you? Why are you here? It’s not like you make decisions for yourself, much less the nation…”

“Excuse me?” Jefferson halted his prance and turned to Hamilton, pivoting himself to be eye to eye with him. “Hey Madison, come on over here.” Madison looked from across the hall of people.

Alexander rolled his eyes, and began mocking Jefferson. “Oh yeah?” Hamilton began, “You’re going to bring your unofficial slave over here now to defend you? Sounds like it, you can’ even make choices for yourself.”

Madison swiftly made his way to Hamilton, coming within centimeters of his face. I know it wasn’t the time, but I was kind of jealous. “Hamilton,” Madison began, “Watch yourself, you federalist.”

“Oh, was that supposed to offend me? Don’t pardon my beliefs, at least I actually fought for this country” Alexander grunted, refusing to back down. “Why are you here? You are a democratic republican who would rather the union be split into 13 nations divisible by rights.”

“And you’d rather put another king in charge!” Jefferson spat. “It’s not like you actually fought anyway, you led one order, other than that you were your Daddy’s aide to camp!”

Hamilton spun on his heels, fists balled and white. Through clenched teeth, Alexander insisted, “Don’t say a word against him.”

I could see it in Alexander’s eyes: his rage pouring through and about to shatter themselves against his opponents. I had to do something; I couldn’t just stand there. I fled to the double doors, swung them open, and hassled Mr. Washington to the lobby where I saw the three men now fully engaged in a fight. Hamilton was taking both Jefferson and Madison, and although Alexander did have more military experience, it sure wasn’t helping him win.

“Gentlemen!” Washington’s voice rang out. Immediately, the three men froze, and when they realized who was speaking to them, immediately dropped the fight and dusted themselves off. “Madison, Jefferson, I do not want to see you right now. Get out of my hall,” Washington sighed. Madison and Jefferson were quick to scatter off of the floor. “John, please, wait for your friend outside.” I nodded my head, then sullenly walked out before I was stopped. “John!” I spun on my hells, anxious for what he was going to say. “Before you leave, I’d like to thank you. Although it was startling for you to rip me from my desk, I don’t want to have thought of the blood that I might have found on my lobby floor when I left and locked up for the night. I think you saved your friend Hamilton from a terrible fate…” he trailed off. Alex and I met eyes, and we exchanged a mute signal of sorrow and anxiety.

I met eyes with Washington and we exchanged an awkward smile, then I proceeded to stoop out of the hall and sit on the stairs, waiting for Hamilton to be released from his lecture from Washington.

I began to think of Hamilton… Alexander Hamilton. What a beautiful name. A name that could be sung by angels, a name that could be paired with mine. With my mind on his mouth, I think what it’d be like to kiss him… to hold his strong competitive shoulders and brace him against me as our groins pressed against each other. I’d trail my lips off his and move down to where his jaw began to curve, then his neck, all as he begins to moan-

“John Laurens!” Hamilton was practically marching out of the hall. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I didn’t. “Why?”

“Why what?” I asked.

“Why did you have to go and get Washington?” he snapped.

I was stunned, and suddenly became defensive, “Excuse me? Alex, in case you didn’t see you were going to be killed!”

“I would have been fine! You just had to run to the boss and be a god damn tattle tale,”  he barked.

“Alexander listen to yourself! I didn’t want you to die! They practically called you a monster for your beliefs, I-“

“I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!” he yelled.

“It does mean shit! It means shit because they’re your competitors and they made a fool of you!”

Alex ran his hands through his hair. “You don’t get it,“ he whispered, and then his voice raised,” You don’t fucking get it! You shouldn’t have even been there!”

I dropped my gaze from his eyes that had turn from the loving warm I knew to cold, strange ones. “Okay Alex. You win,” I sighed. “I’ll just be going.” I stood up, wrapped my scarf around my neck, and began strolling down the street. I walked about 30 feet, when I heard Alex call out-

“Where are you going?”

I didn’t respond. I kept walking.

“John! Please?”

*Hamilton’s POV*

I hadn’t moved from where Laurens left me, the beautiful bastard. I lost my cool with him, all in the sake of my name, when I’d much rather take his name to be my last name. I stand outside Congress’s hall until the sun starts to set, watching Lauren’s footsteps slowly be covered by more snow.

I begin to walk to a house, though it wasn’t mine. It was John’s. I knew that’s where he had gone, he had to have, it’s not like he was a drinker.

I stepped onto his porch, sliding off my hat. Should I do this? Should I go in? The arrogant part of me said no, and not to let him have the knowledge that you were weak and felt sympathy. Another side of me said I should go apologize. That’s what Washington says I need to work on, and what the majority of his private speech to me today was about.

I take a deep breath, slumping my shoulders. I knew that the lock on the door was broken so I just let myself in.

Immediately, I heard sniffles and the sound of someone who had just been crying. I follow the noise, and there Laurens was, in his desk.

“John?” I swear, he jumped 3 feet.

“Geez!” He screams, spinning around on his chair. “Fuck Alexander,” he spits at me, eyebrows furrowed. “First you yell at me, and then you just barge into my house?”

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Whatever,” he mumbles, burrowing his head into the bend of his elbow.

“John, I’m sorry to barge in with no warning, but, I had to see that you made it home safely.”

“I did,” he replied. “You can leave now.”

I refused to let him order me to do something he really didn’t want me to do… I could see the cracks in his lies and the true want of his desires.  I decided to go out on a limb, and asked, “John, are you crying?”

“I told you, I have seasonal allergies.”

“John, please. Please look at me,” I coaxed, but he didn’t. “John…” I stood there for a moment, looking at his hunched over body. It killed me to see him like this, and to think I contributed to this…

I leaned over him and began to run my hands soothingly up and down his back, curling some stray ends of his hair behind his ear. I began to pull at the collar of his jacket, cuing him to loosen his body so I could drag his heavy water cat away from him. He obliged, allowing me to gently set the clothing down. I pulled up a chair next to him, watching him in his agony.

After a little while, he cracked, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay to cry…”

“No, Alexander, it’s not,” he sniffed. “I’m a man, I shouldn’t be-“

“John,” I started. “Crying is natural. I’d rather you do it in the privacy of your own home than in the hall.”

He rolled over to look at me, red cheeks and tears pigmenting his face. “You don’t have to stay here,” he said, almost cold. He was expressionless. 

“But I want to.”

“I just need to be alone right now,” he said, burying his face once again.

I sighed, hesitantly getting up. I wasn’t about to leave- oh no. I went to John’s bedroom to get him a pillow for his poor head that was currently trying to find comfort on a wooden desk and a skinny arm. I grabbed the first one I could reach, then headed right back to his office, but when I returned John Laurens wasn’t there. He couldn’t have gone far, so I was going to go find him to make sure he hadn’t done something stupid when a new piece of paper caught my eye. It hadn’t been there on his desk when I had left. Curious, I began reading it,

You confuse me
You exhilarate me
You confound me
You make me happy
You seem warm

The list of your went on and on, “You make me want to love again” and “You catch my eye everyday” catching my attention in particular. A part of me was glad that he had something to look forward to, seeing a girl and all. At the same time, my selfish desires felt betrayed by Laurens, but of course how could we be together? How would it be possible for Congress to ratify two people of the same gender to-

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” It was John, seeing me leaning over his desk reading the papers.

“Oh, so you’re back,” I respond, but it comes out a little more cold than I would have liked it to.

“I left to go get ink to write, I thought you left like I suggested,” John spat. It seemed the hostility was mutual.

I tried to soften the tension, “I thought you might want a pillow for your head, do you?” I offered it to him, holding it up in the air a bit.

“I’m fine,” he gritted. “Just let me write.” John pushed me to the side, still fuming from tears and his new found anger at me.

I walked to the door, but stopped midstep. I couldn’t just let this slide. I had to do something… so I tuned around. Hanging out in the door way, I asked, “Have I ever lied to you?”

John slammed down his pen and glared at me. “Alexander-“

“No, really, have I?” I asked. He continued to glare at me, obviously thinking about all the sticky situations I had gotten him in. “Look, I know I’ve gotten you in a couple of fights and accidentally have played you up with some businesses, but I’ve never actually lied to you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I just-,” the thing is I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think I’d get this far. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Okay, I just, I thought that you could use some company.”

“Some company?” he asked me as if I were speaking a different tongue.

“Yes, some company.”

“Look, Hamilton, if you don’t have anything to say, just leave,” he commanded.

I wasn’t going to fight him anymore. I had to leave. Reluctantly, I straightened up my shoulders, and began putting on my jacket. He must’ve heard the wrustle of the jacket lining, because he suddenly asked me, “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

“I’m sorry?”

John set his pen down once more, and actually turned to face me. “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking,” he said, and began to rub his hand across his forehead and into his hair.

I swear to God, my breath caught in my throat. Did he know? What the actual hell?

Laurens rose to his feet and began to meander his way to where I was locked in the doorframe, eventually taking one of my hands and placing the thumb of his other hand through one of my belt loops. “Say it,” he mumbled against my ear. “Say it and you can have what you want…“


“We all know that you try to protect the people you love by not showing them your argumentative side…” he trailed off, his gorgeous lips still dangerously close to my neck. “So why did you try to push me away from your fight this afternoon? And why haven’t you gotten in a fight with me yourself?”

I could feel myself blush… fuck. Why did he have to do this? But I gave in, and told him, “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.”

He smirked, our eyes meeting. He came closer to me, and closer, until our lips eventually met. It was small, concealed and private at first, but when I realized he was actually kissing me like he wanted to, I pushed my bottom lip onto his with even more force, causing him to smile into the kiss.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me,” he said.

This time, I smirked, “I just might be.”


On her deathbed, Zelda writes a letter to Link to explain what she experienced during the hundred years she spent locked in a fatal embrace with Ganon. (Also on AO3)

This fic contains speculation on who Ganondorf may have been in the Breath of the Wild timeline and is based partially on a fascinating exchange between @corseque​ and @golvio.

* * * * *

My dearest husband,

If you are reading this, then I must already be gone. I cannot imagine what the state of your heart must be, but please know that I love you. I loved you while you slept, and I loved you when you woke, and I have loved you every day since then.

I regret that we did not have more time together. Although I may still seem young to you, certainly too young to be so frail, all the many years I spent in the ruins of Hyrule Castle have taken a toll on me, and I must leave you. I can feel the beating of my heart grow weaker even as I write this. I know you would object to me leaving my bed, but there is something I must tell you before I go.

When you triumphed over the Calamity, I was able to return to you. We set out to rebuild Hyrule as if nothing had ever changed, and how successful we were. All the tribes came together to reconstruct our castle and our city, and all the while you managed to hide the wounds to your spirit. You maintained a brave face while showing nothing but kindness to others. I tried my best to do the same, but you must have noticed how distracted I was at times. What I could never bring myself to tell you, you who have already suffered so much and borne the suffering of others with such compassion, is what I saw when I held Ganon within the bonds of my seal.

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Full Circle: Part 1

Summary:  When a strange occurrence leads you back to Indiana, you find the past becomes resurrected along with a certain archangel.  Unfortunately, you both become caught up in something bigger than you expected.  Takes place between Seasons 5 and 6.  

Pairings: Gabriel x Sister!Reader

Warnings/Tags: angst, maybe a swear or two

Word Count:  4467

Author’s note:  To be honest, I was never happy with this chapter.  It served it’s purpose and gave the background information I needed to get out there, but it just always fell flat in my opinion.  Hopefully this is a little better at balancing the reader’s personality while still providing the backstory.

When this story was originally written, it included prompts from January’s Gabriel Monthly Challenge.  They will still be bolded (as they are not my words).

Dialogue prompt:  “One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you.”

Special thanks to my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62 who, coincidentally, was the first person EVER to comment on one of my fics (which happened to be this story).  You’ve been sharing your kind words and encouragement from the very beginning, and I am so very thankful for your friendship (and your kickass beta skills!) <3  Also special thanks to @blondecoffeecake whose sunshine, Dick attacks, sense of humor, and super encouraging words keep my soul fed <3 and EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS to @omgreganlove for being the reason I ever shared this.  If it hadn’t been for your encouragement, I never would’ve started posting my writing.  

Tagging at the end - if your name has a line though it, I couldn’t get your tag to work.  Sorry!

You cracked open a beer, the sound breaking through a silence that was as deafening as it was empty.  The contents spilled past your lips, the cold brew comforting, and the familiarity that sang softly beneath the taste was as bitter as it was sweet.  It was also addicting, and by the time you lowered it, the bottle was considerably lighter.  

Not that that was anything out of the ordinary; you were a Winchester, after all.  

Your eyes drifted over the old and peeling wallpaper as you tried to shake the weight of the past that pushed persistently against your heart and mind.  You couldn’t help but think things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.  Then again, no one ever wanted to believe most of their friends and family were supposed to have met terrible fates or that they were supposed to likely live the majority of their life alone.  

Hell, you thought being a twin meant never having to be alone.  There was never a moment in your life when Dean wasn’t there, and it had never crossed your mind there could be a time when he wouldn’t.  You knew he felt the same, though he, being the eldest, had actually existed without you once.

“The only five minutes of peace I’ve ever had,” he liked to joke, to which you’d respond, “At least you’ve known what peace is like.”

He had been so much more than just a brother.  He had been your partner in crime, and wherever one of you was, the other was never far behind.  At least, that’s how it started.  It became clear you had never been destined to stay that way.  Fate had pushed against the foundation of your relationship, creating cracks within the weaker points so that when the storm fully hit, it couldn’t help but take on water.  

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anonymous asked:

Au: Oliver is connors bodyguard and Connor has a gigantic crush on him but Oliver is always so professional and proper he's afraid to make a move

Sorry for the wait! I love this prompt!

It should be illegal to look that good in a suit.

Connor keeps stealing glances at Oliver while he glides around the floor, performing in a group dance and constantly switching out the ladies in his embrace. None of them can hold a candle to Oliver, who stands silently in a corner, stance wide, hands behind his back, eyes darting everywhere; constantly vigilant.

Connor nearly steps on his partner’s toe when Oliver’s eyes find his, before shyly looking away.

“… are you listening to me?”

Connor looks down at the woman in his arms, it’s Michaela, one of Connor’s closest friends and business partner. He hadn’t realized he had been dancing with her, honestly. Oliver in a tux was very distracting.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled, but his eyes strayed from Michaela’s, looking around the room.

She sighed. “You know we’re safe here. The peace treaty went much better than any of us expected.”

“Yeah it was…” Connor started, then swallowed, looking back to Michaela. “To be honest I was nervous. Thought for sure they’d mow us down before we even set foot on their land.”

Michaela rolled her eyes in humor. “You worry too much.”

“Or not enough,” Connor smiled wryly, spinning Michaela around and out before pulling her back in.

“Isn’t that what you have Oliver for?” Her tone turned teasing near the end, grinning at Connor.

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On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning

by Haruki Murakami

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good-looking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”


“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I’d really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock. I’m thirty-two, and that’s what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

Fic I Won’t Write - Try Again Epilogue

Since I had a few requests for it, and approximately a thousand headcanons, here is a little of what happens in the Try Again to Get it Right’ verse after the credits roll

When Percy is pulled to his feet, his hair is still white. He still has scars from Ripley’s knives on his skin and scars of the Briarwoods on his heart. But his family is alive. And he can also remember the way they all clung closer in the aftermath. How they became more aware of loving one another and the worth of that protection.

 The white hair started the day he left home, just a trace of silver on his temples at first, but by the time Vox Machina finds him - jailed and bloody after a bar fight he should have known better than to get into - its as white as ever. There’s no rhyme or reason to it and Percival loathes the affront to his vanity. But when he looks in the mirror he thinks of the man he might once have been and he decides it’s not such a heavy thing to carry

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Alleyways: Jerome x Reader

This stems from a request I received in which Oswald’s younger sister meets Jerome and he takes a liking to her. There’s kind of like a brief mention of murder but it’s not graphic at all. Just thought I’d mention it just in case.

Originally posted by jellovich

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swoobatss-deactivated20170114  asked:

Hi there :D Would you write HCs about civilian s/o dating S76, McCree, and Genji?

Ooh,  I like this a lot!

Soldier 76 hates falling for a civilian. He constantly frets about how he could bring them into danger. How could he not? So many of his close friends and allies have been met with terrible fates. He tries to train harder to ignore his feelings but he can’t help it. The truth is that Jack needs someone detached from warfare, someone kinder and softer to remind him of all the good things that have always been worth fighting for. A civilian with a gentle heart and a genuine smile would make him fall so deeply in love. Jack would vow to be their protector for the rest of his life, even if that means dying in the process.

Genji, on the other hand, wants to love a civilian. But he is so caught up about how different he is and how that might affect them. Just because he is comfortable with himself doesn’t mean everyone will be. But he finds someone, someone who just wants to know and love him, and it’s the last piece he needs to heal his soul. This civilian brings out his humanity and it only enhances his love for both people and omnics alike. It makes him feel hopeful that the world, too, has the potential to heal and change for the better.

McCree would not mind dating a soldier or a civilian, it honestly wouldn’t matter much to him. With a soldier, he shares certain aspects of his life that only they would understand. But, if a civilian was tactfully curious enough, Jesse would not mind telling about his battles - in Overwatch or otherwise. He’s so warm and friendly and honest with everyone that he meets that he doesn’t mind sharing those parts with someone.He does love the everyday life that the average citizen has, he envies being able to settle down and have somewhere to call home. But he feels that he has a sworn duty so that’s never been much of an option for him. Until now, where he knows they are waiting for him. They are his home now.