#if I live that long I’ll cross that bridge ig

[embeanwrites]

No Man Left Behind

Commander Cody x Reader (Star Wars)

A/N: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, break is finally here and I’ve got some time on my hands to do some writing! (Also I suck at Star Wars lore and knowledge sorry!)

Masterlist

"I'm sorry, you want to leave?" (Y/n) practically yelled at General Kenobi. Shocked by his plan of retreat. The Republic was facing a heavy loss of soldiers and tech. (Y/n) knew retreating was the only way to stop more deaths from occurring, but the separatists had taken some clones alive as bait for the Jedi, Grievous was nothing if he wasn't cruel. He had taken Commander Cody and part of his squad, Boil, Waxer, and Trapper.

"If we stay any longer we risk losing more troops, we have to retreat. The council agrees." Obi-Wan attempted to reason with them. Except, while (Y/n) had a lightsaber and fought for the Republic, they did not consider themselves to be a Jedi, they didn't follow the Jedi Code and they also did not have to report to the Jedi Council.

"Leave me a ship." (Y/n) points at Kenobi and before he can attempt to reason with them anymore they've run out of the tent.

"Maker help me, they're going to get as all killed." He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath before complying with (Y/n)’s request.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

(Y/n) kept their lightsaber off and used the shadows to their advantage, they knew breaking in would be easier than getting out, but right now all they cared about was finding the boys. Their heart was pounding in their ears, thinking about what Grievous could be doing to Cody for information.

Quickly, (Y/n) pressed themselves to the back of a wall and listened to the droids for any clue on where they were being held.

"The Jedi are retreating, the General says to execute the prisoners as we finish fortifying the barrier, another victory for the Separatists." Their robotic voices filled the hallway. Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) stepped out in front of them, taking them by surprise. Before the droids could even react they held out their hand and through the force began to speak.

"There's an intruder on the third floor, go raise the alarm." The droids turned towards each other and started running the other way. They didn't have much time, hopefully the droids will cause enough chaos that they would have enough time to find Cody and the others and get out.

"General!" They heard a voice whisper, whipping around they saw Boil, Waxer, and Trapper in a cell.

"Boys!" They smiled, pulling out their lightsaber, the green light clashing with the red sparks from destroying the lock on the door. Quickly, (Y/n) looked each over and gave them a hug. "Listen, General Kenobi left behind a ship for us. Waxer, I'm sending you the coordinates you three get there quickly and I'll go find Cody."

"But sir-" Waxer started.

"If we're not there in half an hour, leave and regroup with Kenobi and Skywalker." (Y/n) clapped Waxer on the shoulder and gave him a confident smile as they continued to run down the hallway, expertly avoiding droids.

It didn't take long before (Y/n) could hear Cody deny his torturer any information about the Republic's plans. (Y/n) slowly peaked their head just far enough to see Grievous with two IG-100 Magna Guards. Cody had his eyes shut and his head hung low, he was breathing heavily. They had striped him of his armor leaving him in only his grays.

(Y/n) quickly moved their head and pressed themselves firmly to the wall. If they ran now there was no way they would get themselves and Cody out of here in time, but there was no way that (Y/n) could beat Grievous and two guards. For a moment they thought about distracting them long enough Cody could get away, but (Y/n) knew Cody would rather go down fighting then leaving them behind.

"Kriff." (Y/n) murmured, focusing they closed their eyes and felt their surroundings through the force. Cody was going in and out of consciousness, much to Grievous' displeasure. He needed medical attention stat and rushing in wasn't going to help the situation. Before (Y/n) could figure out anything else the whole base shook and an alarm went off. Through the comms they could hear a droid panicking.

"General, there's a ship outside that just hit our communication tower and-" Before the message could finish (Y/n) heard the sound of lightsabers crashing through the console. Remaining against the wall Grievous and his guards left Cody's cell and headed down the hallway, the alarms distracting them enough they didn't even bother looking their way.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) rushed into the room and immediately started working on the restraints. Knowing that the boys were buying them as much time as they could.

"(Y/n)?" Cody's voice sounded hoarse and confused. (Y/n) finished undoing the restraints and caught Cody before he collapsed on the ground.

"Come on Commander. Your team is waiting at the ship, we've got to go." (Y/n) threw his right arm around them and place their other arm around his waist, hoisting him up as much as possible.

"You…should go…" He murmured, (Y/n) ignored him and pulled him along towards where they had come in. "Leave me."

"Sorry, Commander. I'm a big believer in no man left behind." (Y/n) grunted, as they pulled both of them flush against the wall as a couple of droids ran by, no doubt heading to the control center. For a moment (Y/n) thanked the Maker that droids were idiots.

"(Y/n)…" He murmured trying to wrestle out of their grip.

"Cody, dammit! Stop making this more difficult than it has to be!" (Y/n) pulled him up, by leaning forward. He groaned. "Cody, listen to me. I am not leaving here. I stayed behind to get you and your team home. Now they're waiting for us and if we want them to get to safety too then we have to move." (Y/n) looked Cody directly into his eyes. He looked exhausted and so defeated. (Y/n) felt their heart break for a moment. "Come on, we make it out of here and I'll buy you some drinks from 79's, okay?" He let out a low chuckle that caused him to grimace in pain.

They both started moving, a little quicker now, but (Y/n) could tell he was struggling. (Y/n) could only hope that Waxer had the ship nearby and that the ship Kenobi left had enough medical supplies to hold Cody over.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Once the two made it back to the ship, Trapper and (Y/n) had helped Cody into the medic area and started apply bacta patches. Cody remained unconscious the whole flight back to The Negotiator. (Y/n) refused to leave his side, wishing they had been quicker. How long had he been tortured? How had he stayed so strong?

(Y/n) sighed, running a hand through their hair as they paced the med bay. Kix was finishing up tests and wrapping Cody's wounds, but there was still apart of them terrified.

"(Y/n)." Obi-Wan's clear Coruscanti accent sounded behind them. (Y/n) turned around to face the General. He had his arms cross and a look of disapproval written all over his face.

"Look, I know I went against orders, but I am not apart of the Jedi council and I understand you're still my General. I just couldn't-"

"(Y/n), please." He calmly sighed and gave them a smile. "I have to deal with Anakin and Ahsoka breaking orders constantly, but you saved lives and even if you didn't listen," He sighed. "I'm happy you saved Cody and his men. However, I must request you reconsider joining the Jedi Council." (Y/n) laughed for the first time since this mission had started, Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sorry General Kenobi. I'm just not one for the Jedi Code, there's just too much out there I want to do, but I will continue fighting along side you all during this war and helping anyway I can."

"I figured as much." He turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "(Y/n), please get some rest. I'm sure Commander Cody will wake up soon and be fine."

"Thank you, General." (Y/n) watched him leave and turned around towards where Kix had been examining Cody. Kix was nowhere to be seen and Cody was sitting up drinking some water. (Y/n) smiled gently and walked over to him. "I'm glad to see you awake, Commander." They smiled at him and sat down next to him, causing him to tense.

"Well, I owe that to you. Thank you for saving me, General." (Y/n) made a tsking noise.

"Not a general, Commander!" They reminded him with a smile and he let out a low chuckle.

"General Kenobi still hasn't convinced you?" It was (Y/n)’s turn to chuckle as they shook their head and looked around the med bay.

"I will never be able to agree with how the Jedi handle things, they'd kick me out before I could even do anything."

"I don't know about that, General Skywalker is still here."

"Yeah well, he's got that chosen one energy about him. Me? I'm a pest at best, but a pest that gets the job done." (Y/n) sighed and got up. "Get some rest, Cody. For real take some time and heal." (Y/n) put their hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the thought of almost losing Cody, but (Y/n) leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to Cody's cheek.

"I-" Cody started, but (Y/n) was already halfway out the door.

"Get some rest, so maybe you'll be the one saving me next time!" They shouted, causing Cody to chuckle as Kix came over.

"You both have it bad." Kix teased, causing Cody to roll his eyes and lay back down on the bed. Closing his eyes he could almost feel as if their lips were still pressed against his cheek.

#star wars #commander cody #commander cody x reader #obi wan kenobi #idk star wars lore too well #but i tried #i've loved cody since i was six #and i cannot believe ive never written him before #star wars clone wars

[werenewromantics]

where is the het explanation for this???

���I would fall from grace just to touch your face / trip of my life / daisy” 

the daisy doodle matching exactly karlie’s ig pic of the road trip

“where should i take my wife for our anniversary?” “you should take her to big sur”

“call it what you want to” 

"your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you"

“wear you like a necklace” “lipstick on your face”

“our secret moments in a crowded room”

wearing the bi flag on her head

the entirety of: this is what you came for, betty, seven, how you get the girl

[to brendon] “everything that makes me, me: [...] gay pride, country boots, riding a unicorn etc”

 “pining and desperately waiting [...] i don’t want you like a best friend” “only bought this dress so you could take it off” (her female lover is taking off the dress taylor bought for her)

dress live being dedicated to Loie Fuller

kiss gate

wearing a bracelet that says ‘proud’ with the bi flag colours on them

toe timeline never matching up with the het song narratives 

ALWAYS wearing rainbows in mvs/live performances

“cross your heart, won’t tell no other” “so you won’t have to cry or hide in the closet and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on”

“we’re a crooked love in a straight line down”

“too in love to think straight”

“all the rumours are true”, “most times, but this time it was true”, “the rumours are terrible and cruel but honey most of them are true”

bridges where she would use female pronouns "she is the best thing that’s ever been mine”, “marry me, juliet” 

THE THIRD POLAROID 

I know places

saying in an interview that breathe was a “really sad break up song” (x) (0:36) and then later saying it was about a “friend”

the riptide cover which she said she changed to be from a female perspective

2016 glaad award to ruby “She tells the world that no one can judge us and no one can stop us”

“that she never loved me” video with clear proof “i want her midnights”

jack antanoff saying he prefers to work with gay women when being asked if he’s going to have a conversation with taylor about the dude’s shes been with over the weekend (x)

“you’re so gorgeous / i’m so curious” “i have a boyfriend, he’s older than us, I haven’t seen him in a couple of months” “if you’ve got a girlfriend, i’m jealous of her” / “there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have” 

“we are alone with our changing minds” “curious minds” / “switch sides like a record changer” “jet set bonnie & clyde til i switched to the other side”

OG Love story lyrics “this love is different, but it’s real”

garden gate pictures with karlie 

saying that ‘The Man’ is about her life as it is now but how it would be depicted if she was a man and then proceeding to have the lyrics “getting bitches and models” 

“i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us”

“your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep“

“you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else”

“the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour”

“I loved you in secret, first sight, yeah we love without reason”

“Put your lips close to mine as long as they don’t touch”

ANYWAYYYY. I’ll wait.

#gaylor swift #kaylor

[shyvioletcat]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE A PART 3 FOR STUPID REGRETS!!!!!!!!!!!! Love your work by the way!

Actually Part 5... but using asks is easier formatting on my ipad.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

EDIT: MASTERLIST

~~~~~

Aelin sat at the table setting on her back porch, a glass of lemonade in front of her. It had lost her focus a while ago, she was too busy watching the adventures of her son in the backyard. He was armed with a stick, Rowan with another as he taught Dylan some sword fighting moves. Dylan took it all fairly seriously as Rowan tapped his foot with his stick to make sure he was standing right. Then Rowan lifted his ‘sword’ and Dylan went for him. The clacking sound of wood on wood rang throughout the backyard and Aelin smiled as Rowan narrowly dodged a hard jab to the ribs.

“He’s so good with him. I haven’t seen Dylan smile like that in a very long time,” Aelin’s mother said quietly from beside her.

Since his father died, is what Evalin left unsaid.

Rowan laughed as Dylan managed to poke him in the ribs. The sweet boy apologised profusely but Rowan assured him he was fine. Then they were raising their pretend swords again.

“I didn’t know Rowan knew fencing,” Evalin commented.

Aelin held in her snort. “He doesn’t. He’s just watched a lot of Star Wars.”

Evalin chuckled softly and Aelin smiled.

Aelin took a sip of her lemonade. “Dylan really loves him. Rowan has been great for him.”

“What about you?”

Aelin looked at her mother and her loaded question. “What do you mean ‘what about me’?”

Evalin just gave her a long look. Aelin sighed and looked back out to where Rowan and Dylan played. It was 2 years since Rowan had walked her home that evening when they had finally bridged that gap between them. He’d become her best friend again, and he’d been a godsend with Dylan, being there for both of them as they found their way out of the darkness of grief. Rowan had never asked for more than she was willing to give. And gods, Aelin wasn’t even sure if Rowan would still want her in that way after everything. But for a few months now Aelin had been tempted to ask him, but something held her back.

Her mother reached out and gripped her hand. “I think Sam would want you to be happy.”

Aelin looked up to the blue sky as tears began to sting at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m betraying him.” Aelin said, her voice thick as she desperately tried to hold back her tears.

“Fireheart, no. You loved him, you grieved for him, you honour him everyday with how much you love your son. If you’re ready to love again I have no doubt in my mind that Sam would be happy for you,” Evalin said.

Aelin felt a tear fall from her eye and quickly wiped it away before Dylan or Rowan could see. “You really think so?”

Evalin stood and pressed a kiss to Aelin’s head. “I do.”

~~~~~

After their little chat, Aelin’s mother had left to get dinner ready at her own home leaving Aelin to think about everything she had said. Aelin had watched Rowan and Dylan play for a bit longer before she went inside herself and put their dinner of mac and cheese in the oven.

Then she had gone to her bedroom, and stood in front of her dresser. She looked at her wedding rings in the box, ran her fingers over them. She hadn’t worn them in years, she had stopped almost as soon as Sam had died, the weight too heavy on her finger. She looked up at the photo she kept by them, it was one of her favourites from their wedding reception. Sam had just announced to their guests that she was pregnant and his smile was unrestrained. That moment was probably one of the times she’d seen him at his happiest.

So gently she ran her fingers over his face. “You’ll always be a part of me Sam, a part of our lives. I’ll miss you, everyday I’ll wish you were here. There will always be a part of my heart that belongs to you.” Aelin didn’t say anything more as she closed the lid on her rings and left the room.

That had been a few hours ago. Rowan had stayed for dinner on Dylan’s insistence and then for a movie as well. They had put on one of the Star Wars movies and Dylan had tucked himself into Rowan’s side. The way Rowan had let him, not even batting an eye, had Aelin’s chest aching at the sight. The 6 year old had lasted until about half way through before he fell asleep and that had Rowan smiling down at the boy as he kept watching.

Aelin gathered up the empty popcorn bowls from the living room and took them to the kitchen and started to back the dishwasher. She was almost done when she heard Rowan come in.

“Can I help?” He offered.

Aelin shook her head. “No, I’m just about done.”

Rowan crossed his arms and lent on the bench. “I thought he’d wake up when I moved, but he is out.”

Aelin laughed. “That was some serious sword fighting this afternoon. I’m not surprised.”

Rowan’s chuckle made her look up. His harsh, handsome face held a gentleness and a softness to it that she had missed all those years they had been apart.

“Aelin what is it?” Rowan asked quietly.

He must have noticed her stare, and now Aelin didn’t know what to do. She felt tears in her eyes again, exactly why she didn’t know. Rowan stepped up to her, his finger gently pushing her chin up so she looked into his face.

“What is it?”

“Do you love me, Rowan?” Aelin whispered.

Rowan looked at her, his eyes reading everything she couldn’t say. “I never stopped.”

Aelin didn’t think. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her lips to his. It took him a moment to react, Aelin’s heart stuttered in that moment of hesitation, but then he was kissing her back. His hand rested on her hips as hers found their way to his shoulders.

“Mum!”

Aelin broke the kiss as her son called for her. “Coming, Dylan!”

Rowan smiled down at her, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile back.

“Are you sure about this?” Aelin asked.

Rowan kissed her again. “I have many regrets in my life Aelin, but I won’t regret this.”

~~~~~

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[mojofun]

Caution - Keep out of children's reach. Yes Sirius, you too (Sirius x Reader)

Hello everyone. This is an entry for a writing challenge I’m taking part in, launched by the awesome @approved-by-dentists​ for reaching 400 followers; congratulations again :) The prompts I chose were <<So you’re telling me you read the instructions and still managed to get this result?>><<I did! Okay, I tried… Well, I tried to want to?>> and <<How on Earth did I ever get so lucky to be loved by you?>>

It’s a piece of fluff set in absurd situation and it came to me after a rather disastrous trip to IKEA (I’m still laughing). Anyway, enough with the chatter. I hope you enjoy it!

Gif not mine, credits to @snuffles-padfoot07​

<<Shit, Y/N’s home, Y/N’s home!>>

Alarmed whispers and jarring sounds of moving furniture were what welcomed the H/C-haired girl in the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, and occasionally -much more often than one might think- his best friend.

Suspicious, to say the least.

The young woman took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for whatever could be waiting for her in the house. Her preparation should have been a little more physical, however, as all the years she’d spent with her other half should have taught her.

Maybe she decided to have some faith in him, even just a little…

That trust resulted in her almost face-planting against the floor after tripping over something. Luckily, two strong arms caught her before severe injures occurred

<<Y/N! Are you ok?>>

She tilted her head upward, meeting the young man’s steely grey eyes, filled with concern. 

Well, at least for that she could count on him.

The thought brought a smile to her face, but it was quickly wiped off her face when she took in the state of the room

<<What the hell, Sirius?>>

Cardboard boxes, sellotape shreds, bolts and screws littered the floor, along with some tools like hammers and… Was that a saw?

Parts of what she guessed were supposed to be chairs and a couch completed the mix. All in all, it looked like a jenga game gone wrong.

The sheepish twenty-something wizard awkwardly scratched the nape of his neck, avoiding her gaze

<<Well, you see…>>

<<Yes, I do see! The living room is a mess! Did a bomb explode in here or something?>>

In the corner James was crouching out of sight behind what should have been the back piece of the sofa

<<No, wait; a bomb would have caused less damage than you two>>

<<I’m sorry! We needed new chairs after the, uhm… Accident>>

Y/N crossed her arms, pinning him with a glare

<<Oh, you’re talking about the time you got drunk, changed into Padfoot and chewed all the legs off the furniture?>>

He gulped guiltily, still not looking at her.

Merlin knows what would have happened if Remus had not intervened to restrain him

<<Uh, yeah>>

<<And?>>

<<We went to that strange stores muggles call I… I…>>

<<I… What?>>

<<Wait, it’s on the tip of my tongue…>>

<<Su->>

<<Prongs, what the hell was it called?>>

<<I… Ig… Ice…>>

<<Are you two talking about IKEA?>>

<<YES!>> The two Marauders exclaimed in unison <<How did you know?>>

<<I’m a muggle born, remember?>>

Sirius smirked

<<Darling, how could I ever forget? My parents’ reaction when they found out I’m dating you will be forever burned in my mind>>

It was Y/N’s turn to grin at the prospect of stumping her significant other

<<Really now? Is that the only reason you are dating me, Sirius?>>

He rushed to her side, taking her hands in his and spewing reassurances so fast that she had trouble understanding him

<<No, of course not. I love you, your beauty, your sense of humor, your intelligence, your kindness…>>

Sirius was a little flustered; Y/N giggled

<<Are you done, darling?>>

<<Uhm, yeah>>

<<Good. Now, shall we take care of this mayhem together?>>

Both boys nodded fervently, making the female chuckle

<<Awesome. Will one of you hand me the instructions sheets, please?>>

That simple question was enough to make them freeze like two criminals caught red-handed

<<I’m scared of asking, but I’ll take the chance… What happened to those papers?>>

Her boyfriend looked like the statues outside the Hogwarts castle; his best friend hesitantly lifted his hand, pouting at a pile of scraps in the corner

<<What the hell?>>

Y/N suddenly had the feeling that she would be repeating that sentence a lot more during this absurd conversation

<<Well, you see…>>

<<No, this time I do not see! Why would you do that?>>

<<What makes you think it was me?>>

The young witch cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a snort

<<Please: I’ve seen you in action as Padfoot>>

<<Alright… I may have chewed them out of frustration>>

<<Very mature>>

<<They were unintelligible! I was going crazy! I mean, look at this chair!>> He exploded, pointing at the piece of furniture by her side.

At first Y/N merely glanced at it, not finding anything out of the ordinary. Then, she froze; her brain refused to elaborate what she saw, so she slowly turned around again and came face to face with… An unusual sight, to put it nicely

<<What the hell?>>

Yes, the feeling was right

<<What is this? It looks like something out of a modern art museum!>>

In spite of themselves Sirius and James laughed, unable to hold back. Her glare brought them back in line though

<<Would one of you care to tell me why this damn chair has eight legs?>>

<<The drawings->>

<<Wait wait wait wait wait>> She held up a hand, trying to prepare herself again <<So you’re telling me you read the instructions->>

<<We read them!>> 

<<And still managed to get this result?>>

<<I did!>>

For the second time Y/N pinned him with a  harsh glare, making him squirm uncomfortably

<<Okay, I tried…>>

Her scowl worsened

<<Well, I tried to want to?>>

In the corner, James was still hiding behind the back piece of the couch.

The woman let out a long, frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose

<<I can’t believe you two…>>

<<Hey, did you expect us to understand Swedish?>>

<<The English version is written on the back, you idiots!>>

<<Oh>> They gaped

<<Don’t “oh” me>> The exasperated female scolded, taking in again the chaos the living room had been reduced to

<<There better be no more surprises in the house>>

<<Well, we were thinking of tackling the bed, but->>

<<No!>> She hastened to stop them <<You know what? Why don’t you two go buy groceries or something and I’ll deal with this… Octopus chair and the rest of your bedlam>>

At that, the other guy immediately ran out of the house, leaving his best mate to face his unnerved girlfriend. He just gave her an enormous smile and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her

<<How on Earth did I ever get so lucky to be loved by you?>>

<<The real question is, what did I ever do to deserve you?>> She mumbled in his chest, making him cackle

<<You lucked out, darling>>

<<It wasn’t a compliment, you dumbass>>

The coal-haired wizard let out a belly laugh, pecking her on the forehead

<<I don’t care what you did, but I am grateful you did it; my life wouldn’t be even half as wonderful without you in it>>

The S/C-skinned witch raised her face to look him in the eyes, smiling sweetly

<<You managed to placate my fury, but it’s not gonna last long, so I suggest you apparate as far away as you can while I can still keep my killing instincts at bay>>

<<Roger that, my love. I’ll see you later!>>

With that, he was gone.

Y/N chortled, shaking her head in amusement

<<Whatever it is I did, Sirius, I am immensely grateful I did it too…>>

She pulled out her wand and got to work.

A couple of hours later the house looked fit to live in again. All pieces of furniture had the correct number of legs and there was no litter on the floor; it was spic and span.

That was the sight that greeted Sirius when he decided to go back home. It made him smile as he headed to their shared bedroom.

There, he found his girlfriend lying on the bed, taking a rest after working out the mess he’d made. To make up for it he’d bought her a bunch of F/F and a plushie

<<Y/N?>>

<<Mh…>>

<<Darling, could you wake up a moment?>>

Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, stretching and yawning

<<What is it? What did you do now?>>

Chuckling, the young man revealed his surprise

<<Well, I wanted to give you something to thank you for being so wonderful to me and tolerating all the trouble I stir>>

The smile she gave him made him melt. She accepted the flowers but, before she could move a muscle, he put them in a vase that was somehow already on the bedside table.

The plushie made her giggle

<<Dear, it’s ok. You are a wonderful boyfriend, you just suck at putting together furniture.

You really need to learn, though>>

He furrowed in confusion

<<Why? We don’t need anything else from I… Ic… Ig…>>

<<IKEA, Sirius, and yes, we do need one more thing>> She informed him with another yawn, getting back under the covers

<<What would it be, my dear?>>

<<A crib>> She murmured.

Four letters.

That was all it took for a wizard who’d faced countless Death-eaters to freeze on the spot

<<A c- A cri- Y/N?! Are you->>

A teddy to the face was his answer

<<Yes, yes I am. Now let me sleep>>

The H/C-haired witch did not see the tears pooling in her boyfriend’s eyes, nor the humongous smile stretching his lips.

He lay down beside her and slowly, cautiously, rested his hand on her abdomen

<<How on Earth did I ever get so lucky to be loved by you?>>

That was the last thing he said before succumbing to sleep.

Sirius did not see her smile either, but he did feel her squeezing his hand.

He was looking forward to their next trip to Ic- Ih- whatever the hell that store was called.

#clarissas400challenge #sirius x y/n #sirius black fluff #ridiculous fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction

[intervital]

Tomorrow evening I will be talking to @summeringo, founder of @infullcolorus_ on IG live as the #ifcalumna of the month! Summer and her WOC theater nonprofit has been the #1 cause of my tears of joy hands down, from my first monologue to first book credit to my first onstage performance to my first reading at my favorite bookshop @wordbookstores to a multitude of ripples of dear friends, wonderful opportunities, and magic making over the years. I wrote a damn long blog and some of this stuff is in it hehe. . I'll be talking about my current projects like building a folio for the Unsettling the Wor(l)d writing workshop which was taught by the terrific @dejesussaves and @the_operating_system has graciously offered my classmates and me space to publish. You can read my flash fiction about snow globes that display potential here. And I will add image and video descriptions below soon. Also you can see a time lapse flipthrough of my taste victory goals notebook which I bought from my talented friend @badjonesrising and to which I added a ton of ephemera. The hole puncher is a godsend and the devil's trick to get me to do too much lol ugh . I couldn't omit this sweet message sent by my friend Met. I am at once extremely flattered and terrified to meet such a HEIGHT. Lol idk what to pick haha. Once I read it, I immediately sent them a happy tears selfie lol. And actually I've been wanting to send those kinds of photos to the source which makes me think I might be purer than I thought haha. This isn't even the first time someone called me a pure soul! My friend Bonnie from college told me that. It's just right now I'm on that bridge trying to cross from utter self-loathing to truly loving myself and I'm not sure if I can ever reach considering myself a pure soul...which is probably what a PS would say right? Lol . These flash fictions with flash photography physicals hehe were made during the text and image class at @brooklynpoets with Simone Kearney. I resurrected my bookstagrams @abandonedb2dbc, a public art project, & @booksiheld, literary reviews & pursuits. And the final photo is from this morning's 🌄 on an anarchy house for my walking tour. Hope to see you 🔜 🎙 https://www.instagram.com/p/CI1-LVYAwg2/?igshid=mvt5xgqp6gol

#ifcalumna #1

[milkacchan]

Unsophisticated

Request for anon: Do you do headcanons? If so, I'd like to request the chocobros (poly and individual, if that's alright) with a reader who says weird, unsophisticated stuff sometimes? E.G. "Eat my ass, daemon!" or "Do you guys, like, mind if I fart? Like, real quick?" and stuff??? It can be silly or loving or even angsty if you can make it that way, I just wanna know what they'd do lol thank you for even reading this ❤❤❤❤

Hahaha officially my favorite ask. Someone with taste!

• Seeing as y'all were friends before lovers, they're aware if your foul mouth and your fucking meme references. Especially during fights.

• "Eat my asS, Daemon!"

"Now is hardly the time, (Y/N)!"

"Eat his ass too! He's lonely!"

• Hahaha

• "I'll eat your ass, Ig." You wink and his face flushes.

"Clean yourself up for dinner."

• You used to say shit like that before everyone was but n o w it was expectable and you could get away with it. (No. No you couldn't.)

• The first time Iggy called you something endearing (it was sweetheart) you had to sit down. The first thing that left your mouth was a whispered, 'fuck me' as like when you got SLAPPED across the face and go 'oh fuck me'

•Gladio found that very amusing. Hasnt let you live that down.

•Iggy calls you sweetheart to fuck with you. It does things to you.

• "We dont have any pie left." "Guess I'll die.🤷🏼‍♀️

•"What's up fuckers?" Prompto looks up. "Why do you have my phone?" "Beccause fuck you that's why."

•"Prom, love, she doesn't have your phone."

• "Iggy, baby, it's a joke."

• Gladio thinks its fucking hilarious. You have to watch what you scream while you're fighting because he'll just start laughing.

• "I'm on your bridge Daemon. I dance on your bridge. FUCK your bridge."

"(Y/N), please just get off the bridge."

• Prompto finds it endearing. He thinks it's great you feel comfortable around then to say all your weird shit. Him and Noct will join in on your meme recitals.

• Iggy is t i r e d

• He pretends he doesnt think it's funny. He pretends he doesnt care for it but he thinks it's cute.

• "Road work ahead?" Gladio questions, looking at the sign.

• You inhale. "Uh yeah, I sure hope it does." And scene.

• "what?"

• Noct gets it. He snorts, choking on his water.

• Prompto stifles a laugh.

• "Y'all mind if I fart? Real quick? I can go over there if you want."

• Gladio just looks at you, face full of love and adoration. "I don't mind at all baby."

"Sick."

• S e l f- D e p r i c a t i o n

• It pissed the f u c k off out of everyone there but you've been doing it so long you can't help it.

• "Yep, you're right. Don't mind me, I'm being a dumb bitch." "Well if we're being honest I really deserved that." "Lol its gotta be nice to not be average at everything."

• Eventually this leads to all the boys cornering your ass by the lake before a bath. They make sure you know you're loved more than anything.

• Noct threads his fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

• Gladio massages your shoulders while Prompto and Ignis kiss exposed skin.

• it's great really. I'm telling you.

• You try to break the habit. It doesnt really work though oop.

• 90's slang.

• 80's slang.

• any slang really.

• Sick, Gnarly, Bogus, wicked, lmao, lol, fuck

• Once you cursed in front of a child and Ignis almost drop kicked you. You didnt talk to him for 3 days.

• Hi. You're petty.

• People say its petty to be petty but you dont see the problem and it just feeds that whole unsophisticated, tired, depressed vibe you got going on.

• One time Noct took some food you were saving while you all were in town. So for the next three months, you moved his stuff around so it was annoying to find.

• Prompto dares not cross you.

• Gladio made the mistake of bashing your skills so you spent the rest of the day tripping him when he didn't expect it.

#ignis x reader #ignis x gladiolus #ignis x gladio #ignis x noctis #ignis x prompto #poly chocobros #poly chocobros x reader #gladiolus x noctis #gladiolus x ignis #gladiolus amicitia #noctis x gladio #gladiolus x reader #noctis x reader #prompto x noctis #noctis caelum #noctis x ignis #noctis x gladiolus #chocobros x reader one shot #chocobros x reader drabble #chocobros x reader #chocobros x sister! reader #ffxv x reader #ffxv

[akittenwrites]

The Knight and the Queen

Title: The Knight and the Queen

Author: @deanwinchesterxreader

Beta-reader: @emoryhemsworth

Summary: Queen Y/N and Sir Dean have an ungodly affair. Heavily inspired by ASOIAF.

Type: one shot

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count:

7644

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, abortion, angst.

Tagging: @deanssexyassbutt@sherlock44@anokhi07;@supernatural-jackles @sm0l----bean @megapleasantturtle @dean-winchesters-girl-2002

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

The gardens were beautiful during this time of the year. Pink and yellow roses decorated the clear fountain in the middle, while endless paths winded through the vibrant green grass, blooming with daffodils and tulips. Y/N closed her eyes momentarily as she let the light breeze caress her face, which carried the fragrance of the flowers around her. Then she looked up and met the blue color of the sky.

“What do you think, Daria?” she asked in a honeyed voice. “The gardens are a real beauty when spring arrives, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Daria nodded, standing a few feet behind her. “They are very well kept.”

“But it’s not the gardens you are admiring right now, is it?” she commented, turning around to scrutinize her, her face stoic. She held her chin high as she regarded Daria from head to toe, not even bothering to mask her disgust.

“My Queen, I don’t unders—“

“Act like a fool with me again and I’ll have your throat cut,” she threatened, striding past her. Daria hurried to follow behind her. “You’re a handmaiden Daria, lowborn. Sir Dean is a knight of my personal guard, and he would never take notice of somebody so much below his status. Know your place.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” she rushed to say, bowing even though Y/N couldn’t see her. “It won’t happen again.”

“For your sake, I hope it doesn’t,” she declared with pursed lips, halting her pace a few feet away from Dean. “Now go, I don’t want you to bother me anymore.”

The moment Daria turned around and disappeared between the bushes with her tail between her legs, Dean’s eyes left the flowers to fix themselves on her. They made eye contact as he strolled to her side.

“Dean,” she said once he reached her. “We have important matters to discuss. Accompany me to my chambers.”

“Right behind you, Your Grace,” he nodded, his green eyes not leaving her. She was wearing a fitted burgundy gown today, and the long skirt trailed on the ground as she walked the path to exit the garden. Dean followed behind her just as he said he would, his own cloak floating with the wind. She led him through the long hallways he knew like the back of his hand, avoiding the Great Hall, until she reached the double doors that led to her wing of the castle. Outside, her doorkeeper stood guard.

“Grall,” she acknowledged, halting her pace. “I am not to be bothered. Not even by the king.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he bowed his head, standing aside.

Her footsteps echoed through the hallways as she made her way to her bedchambers, no one in sight aside from the two of them and the silent watchmen that were stationed at every corner. She didn’t share a bed with King Crowley. She had only done so a handful of times in hopes of conceiving a child, and it didn’t happen again once Prince Gavin was born. King Fergus was more than content with one rightful heir, and he retired from the marriage bed after that. Their son had turned fourteen a few moons ago, and was sent to live with his uncle as, in King Fergus’ words, life in court was making him soft.

Queen Y/N cared as little for her husband as he cared for her. Their union was a political one, and nothing else. King Fergus had his own matters to attend to in court and with the royal council to be worrying about what she did in private. As long as word didn’t get out of her adultery, he didn’t care. Y/N could keep the Winchester as a pet if that was what she wanted, provided she did her duty in court, and didn’t meddle with his private affairs. He, as the king, didn’t have to be careful; he was allowed to take up as many mistresses as he wished.

Nobody was allowed inside the queen’s wing, known as the Winter Tower, without her direct approval. Her ladies in waiting had a specific schedule in which they were expected to attend to her needs, and afterwards they were asked to leave her alone unless she demanded their presence. The guards she had keeping watch at all times were to be trusted, and if word of anything unfavorable ever got out, they would be blamed and their tongues would be cut. Sir Dean was always tailing her, though. He was the head of her personal guard, and that made it his duty to make sure she was safe at all times. He had initially been a part of the king’s guard, but the queen had requested him specifically to fulfill that position in hers, and he couldn’t say no to such an honor.

He had become a knight to fight in the battlefield, not to prance around in court, but he had come to enjoy his time with the queen. She didn’t really need the protection inside the castle, so she allowed him to go off and do whatever he wanted often. As much as he missed the battles, with blood and swords and fighting, life in court gave him a different perspective. Being the head of the queen’s guard was a great honor, and he was grateful for it. He had become too old to fight in the field anyway, his title of “The Sword of Fear” now just a reminder of what he used to be.

When they finally reached her bedchambers he pushed the heavy oak doors open for her, and entered right behind her. Not half a second had passed since he closed the doors when Y/N’s wet lips were pressed against his, her hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he responded with the same passion, letting himself get lost in the feeling of her tongue sliding against his. It wasn’t until they had to part for air and his breath came out in short bursts that reality hit him. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. He placed his arms on her shoulders and lightly pushed her away, making her take a step back and frown.

“What?” she asked, pressing her lips together. He didn’t answer, instead choosing to stare into her eyes, memorizing every inch of her face. His gaze travelled downwards to her chest, where her gown had silver pearls lavished on it, and the golden belt she was wearing made her breasts stand out. There was a gold necklace hanging from her neck, with a ruby rock dangling from it. He had had it made specifically for her.

“Dean?” she asked again.

“Y/N…” he breathed out, slumping his shoulders. “I… there’s something you need to know.”

She nodded, the lust from earlier completely vanished from her face. With her expression unmoving, he wondered if he was speaking to Queen Y/N now.

“What is it?” she insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“It’s my father,” he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose and looking down. He’d rather stare at his own feet right now. “He betrothed me.”

“He did what?!” she snapped, her feet taking her backwards until she hit the edge of her bed. She promptly sat down, feeling the muscles in her legs quivering with red hot rage. “And you allowed this?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing down painfully as he did so. He had never felt so undeserving in his entire life. He had sworn he would do everything in his power to keep the queen safe, and he couldn’t keep her safe from himself. He had disappointed her. She wanted a brave man, and all she got was a shameful coward.

“I have no say in what he does,” he explained, sagging his shoulders. “I’m his heir.”

“You’re the head of my personal guard,” she bit out, clenching her jaw. “Your father has no rights over you.”

He took a deep breath, still not daring to meet her eyes. “From what he told me in his letter, King Fergus gave his consent.”

He could’ve sworn he heard the sound of her teeth grinding in the dead silence of the room.

“And your father didn’t think to ask for my permission?” she fumed, nostrils flaring. How dare he? How dare Lord Winchester go behind her back, knowing his son worked for her, not for the king? And how dare Fergus allow such a union? If this was his way of getting back at her for kicking those dirty whores of his out of the castle, he would pay dearly. “I am the queen! You swore fealty to me, not to my husband!”

“I know!” he exclaimed, punching the wall on his side. He could feel her furious stare from where he stood, and a wave of nausea washed over him. “It’s not my fault what he did.”

“Where is your father right now?” she seethed, standing up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she began pacing back and forth in front of him. Her heels made her footsteps echo across the room, and it only served to put them both even more on edge.

“Back at Stonegate,” he answered, swallowing down the thickness in his throat. “He is planning on meeting with her father soon to arrange the last details in person. He wants me to get married in a few moons.”

“Forget about that,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll have the scribe write him a letter summoning him to court.”

“What will you do?” he shook his head. “Tell him to break the arrangement?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I will do,” she nodded, the pounding in her ears making it hard to formulate an elaborate plan at the moment. She would know what to do when the time came.

“Y/N…” he began, dragging his footsteps to where she was. He tangled his fingers in her hair, letting himself get lost in her, even if it was just for a moment. “My father… he doesn’t believe in women in power. Trust me, I have thought every way out of this, but the king gave his permission, what are we supposed to do?”

She shook her head, wrapping her hand around his wrist and pushing him away.

“I have more power than some lowly liege lord and he will understand that. I will make him understand,” she snarled. “He will also understand that you’re not his anymore to sell to some whore.”

“Y/N…” he began, finally looking at her. She ignored him as she turned around and began pacing again, her hair swirling behind her. He couldn’t help noticing the way her eyebrows would furrow every few seconds, and his heart ached to envelop her in his arms and make it all better. He had been doing this for so long, dishonoring himself and her in the process, that he couldn’t bear being apart from her now. Yet he knew it was right. She was the queen, and he was a knight. They couldn’t hide forever. He knew she drank tea from the seeds of Queen Anne’s Lace every time he spilled inside her after sex, but they had been lucky. Or had they? He had heard of maidens carrying unwanted children in their wombs, the herb failing them. What would they do, should such a fate befall them? Seven years was a long time, and he was certain her teas hadn’t always worked. He didn’t know if he could stand the thought of her getting rid of their child, not anymore. He understood why she did it. Should the queen bear his bastard child, King Fergus would have both their heads on a stick. Yet, the thought made him nauseous now in a way it hadn’t before. He wanted a family of his own, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He wasn’t sure he would be able to give a satisfactory performance in the bedchamber with another woman other than Y/N, though. It had been so long since he had been with somebody else, he felt dirty just with the thought of touching a skin that wasn’t hers. He didn’t want another woman. He wanted her.

He was snapped out of this thoughts when she stopped in her tracks, staring at him with unmoving eyes.

“Why are you so reluctant? Do you want to marry her, Dean?”

“Of course not,” he denied, clenching his jaw. “You know you’re the only woman I want.”

“Who is she?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” his voice boomed. He wasn’t having this conversation with her. Not when just seconds before his skin crawled at the mere thought of sleeping with another woman. “I don’t care who she is. I don’t want her!”

“Who is she, Dean?”

He sighed and looked down, shaking his head.

“Lady Frenney, the daughter of the Frenneys of Capolta.”

Dean saw the rage flash in her eyes as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her whole body was trembling, and he wasn’t sure she would take it nicely if he tried to comfort her right now. Despite that, he ached to hold her in his arms.

“She’s half my age! Hell, she’s half your age!” she yelled, her eyes becoming teary. “She hasn’t even reached adulthood yet, and you’re planning on marrying her? Of course you would. Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? That you’re leaving me for a pretty little maid half my age?”

“I am not leaving you,” he assured her, walking the distance that separated them in a few long steps. He rubbed her shoulders with one hand as he used the other one to wipe the tears away from her eyes. Her vulnerability made his chest constrict around his heart. “I will find a way to come here as often as I can. I promise you that.”

She nodded, staring at the floor. Her throat was dry and at the moment all she wanted was to lay in bed, underneath her fur covers, and not come out. A chill ran through her body and she rubbed her forearms, suddenly feeling cold. Dean noticed immediately and wrapped his arms around her, laying a kiss on the top of her head.

“Will you?” she whispered, her tone defeated. “Maybe once you lay with her you realize you prefer her over me.”

“There is no woman in this world I’d rather be with than you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t marry her,” she pleaded, burying her head in his chest.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he stroked her arms. Despite his armor, he could feel her warmth against him, and as he stayed there with her, he felt whole. He imagined himself spending the rest of his life by her side, but he knew they couldn’t do it anymore. Not like this. There would come a day when King Crowley would kill them both should they continue to go down this path.

“And what am I supposed to do? Stay as your personal guard until my hair turns gray and my hands are useless?” he tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out. He disentangled himself from her to gaze into her eyes again, though he didn’t stop touching her. “I can’t be your knight forever, Y/N. I’m almost forty.”

“King Fergus won’t live that long,” she said, her voice shaking as her fingers dug into his arms. “I told you already. As soon as he passes, it will be just you and me.”

“Are you sure? Because marrying the head of your guard is a sure way to shatter your reputation.”

“I will be Queen regent. If anyone dares speak ill of me, I’ll have them killed.”

“If nobody supports you, you’ll have nobody killed,” he retorted.

“I know how to maintain power, Dean,” she snapped. “I’m not some naïve maid from Capolta.”

“I know,” he sighed. Sometimes in his overwhelming desire to protect her, he overlooked the fact that she wasn’t a trophy queen. She was a very capable woman that did a lot more than sewing and posing for the artists. She was his queen too, and she was powerful. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t live anymore knowing we’ll never be something real. It hurts me even more than being away from you.”

“We will be real,” she assured, placing her hands on each side of his face. “I promise you that.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise,” he shook his head.

“I can. King Fergus won’t live to see another new moon. I swear it on my life.”

He took a step back.

“Y/N, this is treason you’re speaking of, I can’t…”                         

She scoffed, letting him go.

“As if you weren’t already committing treason by sleeping with the king’s wife.”

“It’s not the same,” he insisted.

“You’re not going to do anything,” she said, her fingers finding his the ties of his cloak and starting to undo them. “I will.”

“God will condemn us,” he stated, letting his eyes flutter closed as his cloak fell to the floor.

“We’re going to Hell already. And I don’t care, not as long as it’s with you.”

“I can take no part in this.”

“You won’t. Just… don’t judge me. I will be doing more good than bad for this kingdom.”

“I would never judge you,” he replied, opening his eyes to find hers looking at him. “I love you.”

As she took his clothes off piece by piece, and worshipped every part of his body, he wondered if he’d be willing to turn his back on his king for her.

He was. He was willing to kill for her. He was willing to die for her.

He took her in like the first time, captivated by the sight of her naked flesh. He made love to her as if it was the last time, reveling in the feeling of her body against his. And as they lay in bed together that night, the decision was made.

For both of them.

***

Despite it being the middle of spring, a light rain was falling, and Y/N observed it from her sunroom. She sipped on red wine, enjoying the way it burned her throat, sweet yet strong. It was made from their own grapes, grown in the gardens, picked and crushed by the royal winemakers. As she closed her eyes and relaxed, somebody knocked on the door. She placed the gold cup on the wooden chest next to her before standing up and giving the signal for the person to come in.

One of the knights from her personal guard, Sir Wallace, opened the door and let himself in.

“Your Grace, Lord Winchester has arrived,” he informed. “He was led to one of the meeting rooms like Your Grace requested.”

“Good,” she nodded, walking towards the door. “Would you escort me there?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”                                 

Dean was off duty for the day as he had to train some green knights she had asked to be incorporated into her guard. Besides, she didn’t want him to meet with Lord Winchester. He was aware his father would be arriving today, but agreed that it would be for the best if they didn’t meet. The less Dean was involved in this insanity, the better.

John Winchester was sitting in front of her wooden study desk when she entered the small room, and stood up immediately. She ordered the knight to wait outside, and when the door was closed behind her, made her way to her chair.

“Lord Winchester,” she acknowledged, sitting down and leaning backwards as she examined him. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, his black hair turned salt-and-pepper, with a gray beard and dark circles under his eyes. Still, he stood tall and proud before her, the years making his presence even stronger.

“Your Grace,” he bowed.

“You may sit,” she smiled tightly. “I apologize for summoning you with such short notice, Lord Winchester. How are you fairing?”

“Things have been going well at Stonegate,” he replied as he sat down, placing his arms on the chair’s armrests.

“So I’ve heard. How is your youngest? I haven’t had the chance to see him in a long time.”

“He’s very smart. Smarter than me, even. His teacher is amazed at his skills. He would make a great Lord.”

“I imagine so,” she said, placing her arms on the desk and leaning forward. She waited a few seconds before speaking again. “As much as I enjoy learning about your family, Lord Winchester, I didn’t ask for you to come here to do so.”

“I expected as much. What is it you’d like to discuss, Your Grace?”

“Your son, Dean.”

“Is it about his betrothal?”

“You’re a very perceptive man, John. Has anyone ever told you so?”

“I’ve been told it’s never a good thing here in court.”

She laughed, her eyes glinting as she examined his expression. He knew exactly what she would ask of him, and had probably already thought a hundred different ways of saying no. He would try to negotiate, she could see it in his eyes, but it would make no difference.

Queens always got what they wanted.

“It is dangerous, indeed,” she agreed, a smile still on her face. “There is no point in beating around the bushes, though, is there? I summoned you to ask you to end it. You son is of more value to me as a knight than to you as a lord.”

“He is my firstborn and I’m getting old, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, yet his lips pressed together and the darkness of his eyes betrayed him. “Stonegate belongs to him by birth right.”

“He is not your only son,” she offered, her tone dismissive. “Sir Dean is far too preoccupied being a knight to care about being a lord.”

Lord Winchester clenched his jaw for a few seconds before speaking again, his tone flat and carefully controlled.

“I apologize, Your Grace, but I have King Crowley’s permission to proceed with the betrothal. I appreciate you think so highly of my son, but I need him back home, not here in court.”

“It appears I haven’t been clear enough,” she stated. “He is the head of my personal guard, and I need him here. It’s not a request. It’s a command. Tell Lord Frenney the betrothal is off.”

For a person who received a Lord’s education, John Winchester sure hadn’t learned to control his impulses. Something seemed to snap inside him at her words, and he frowned at her.

“I won’t let my son stay in court and further tarnish his reputation!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “There are enough rumors already!”

“Rumors?” she frowned, a chill running down her back. “What kind of rumors?”

“The kind about his ungodly interest in his queen!” he seethed, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“There is no such thing in reality,” she answered in a controlled manner, ignoring the pounding of her heart against her chest. How had such a rumor spread all the way to Stonegate without her being aware of it? Had she been so focused on herself that she hadn’t seen what was happening right under her eyes?

“I know,” Lord Winchester stated. “My son is no fool. I raised him well. But it’s time for him to move on.”

She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. “Are you defying me?”

“I have the king’s approval,” he challenged.

The laugh escaped her lips without her consent, mocking him.

“You think the king is the only one you owe your loyalty to?” she smiled slightly, standing up tall in front of him. “Remember who you are, Lord Winchester, and who I am.”

“I have fought in more battles than years you have lived, Your Grace. I fear nothing.”

“Call off the betrothal, and your disrespect might be forgotten. Don’t, and you can say goodbye to your life. I have guards stationed outside who will not hesitate to end it.”

“You would lose Stonegate’s support,” he answered, standing up as well. He was taller than her, yet he couldn’t intimidate her. Not when she was the one wielding true power in the room.

“Are you sure? Because last I remember, Sam is your current heir. And Sam is too smart to commit treason against the Crown,” she commented, making her way around the desk. “So here are your options. You call it off and start preparing Sam to become the next Lord of Stonegate, or don’t, and the engagement will still be off, with the addition that I’ll have your head for it.”

“How will you know I’m not lying when I say I’ll call it off? What if I arrive at Stonegate and decide to go on?” he insisted.

“Then you’re even more stupid than I thought,” she answered simply. “Do not test me, Lord Winchester. My influence in the royal council is stronger than you think.”

“You would start a war? For what, an aging knight?”

“No, I couldn’t care less about him,” she lied. “It’s your arrogance I would start a war for.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds and looked down. Finally, he lifted his head and nodded.

“I will call it off as soon as I arrive at Stonegate.”

“No,” she announced. “You will do it now. The scribe will write the letter for you.”

“I can write my own letters,” he replied.

“You won’t write anything while you’re here. You will sign it and seal it. That will be all,” she concluded, making her way to the door. “Stay here. The scribe will come for you. Oh, and if Sir Dean finds out anything…”

“I’ll tell him I just decided to call it off because it’s not a good match.”

“Good. He doesn’t know you’re here,” she lied, knocking on the door for the guard on the other side to open it. “So hurry, and you’ll leave before dusk.”

***

King Fergus was already seated at the high table when Y/N arrived escorted by her ladies-in-waiting. Lord Winchester had already left the castle after having sent a letter to Lord Frenney to let him know the betrothal was off. As she climbed the platform and took her seat next to the king, the castle’s minstrel came forward with his psaltery. His red and golden clothes stood out in the Great Hall when he took his place in one of its corners. As he startled playing a popular ballad, one of the cupbearers approached her and poured red wine in her goblet.

“My King,” she greeted as she sat down on the wooden carved chair.

“Queen Y/N,” he responded, not turning to look at her. “I haven’t had the chance to see you all day.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said, her eyes catching Sir Dean’s across the Great Hall. He was standing guard in one of the corners. The royal knights did not dine with the rest of court. “There were some matters I had to attend to.”

“Were those matters related to Lord Winchester being in the castle earlier?”

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment.

His tone was dismissive as he bit into a piece of meat, as if he hadn’t just revealed he knew everything she had been up to. Still, she recovered and pretended to be unfazed by his words as she spoke.

“You have good informants, Fergus.”

He leaned closer to her, even though they were the only ones in the large wooden table and the singer’s voice wouldn’t let anyone hear what they were talking about.

“I do, darling,” he said, waving for his cupbearer to come near him. “You know I allowed that marriage, so why did you think it was wise to intervene?”

The cupbearer filled their cups and hurried to leave again. He knew perfectly well it wasn’t wise to hang around the king and queen when they were talking.

“Dean is my knight. You had no right,” she answered, reaching for her cup again. If Fergus thought his ire would be enough for her to yield, he was wrong. He wasn’t the only one in command, and he wasn’t the only one with reasons to be displeased.

“And you had no right to disrespect my authority in such a way,” he bit out. “What am I, a joke? I make a decision and you defy me?”

“You knew what would happen if you messed with my personal affairs,” she replied, smiling warmly at one of the highborn ladies who happened to be looking at her. “Maybe you’ll reconsider next time.”

“I am the king,” he snarled, breathing through his teeth. His face was so close to hers now that she could smell the alcohol in his breath. She ignored him, her gaze still wandering around the hall. “I don’t need your permission to do anything. Your job is to bear my children and look pretty here in court. Your defiance will have consequences.”

“Careful with your words, Fergus,” she snapped, pressing her lips together. “Remember where your gold is coming from.”

There was a short pause before he spoke again.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Just reminding you.”

He backed away to drink the rest of his wine, his eyes still on her. The minstrel was playing a romantic ballad about a king and his queen of old now, and how tragically beautiful their love had been. She smiled at the irony as she finished the last bite of her food. Her neck was starting to hurt her after wearing the crown for so long, and she was about to call one of her ladies-in-waiting to leave the Great Hall when Fergus leaned close once again.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that you can’t undermine my authority,” he grunted.

“I wouldn’t have done so if you had respected me,” she said, annoyed. How long was he planning on dragging this for? “You brought it upon yourself. What were you thinking, sending Dean away behind my back?”

“The rumors are increasing, Y/N,” he informed. “I can’t afford to look like a fool in front of the people!”

She sighed, regarding him with a scowl.

“You know they are just rumors. Nobody has proof of anything.”

Fergus laughed as if she had just told the funniest joke in the world. When he finally calmed down, he sneered at her. “You might think you are protected by the huge security system you have created with your guards, your doorkeeper and your schedules…” he mocked. “But you have only built the suspicion even more.”

“There have always been rumors,” she accepted, her jaw clenched. “Why is there a change now?”

“It is not something that should be discussed here,” he answered, leaning back on his chair.

“Everyone is focused on the fool,” she insisted. “Just tell me.”

“One of your ladies noticed your blood is late.”

She gasped, a sudden chill running down her back.

“What?”

How much of a fool had she been acting like lately? First not noticing the rumours had spread all the way to Stonegate, now one of her own servants betraying her right under her nose. As soon as she figured out who it was, she would have her lynched through the streets, all the way to the gallows, and she’d be present during the execution… maybe even have her tongue cut out first, to teach the rest of them a lesson.

It was probably Daria, that two-faced whore.

What bothered her most was that she hadn’t even realized her blood was late. What was going on with her? How had she become so careless, letting a spy into her most trusted circle, not paying attention to matters of such importance? She had brought it upon herself.

“It has reached my ears,” Fergus responded, waving at the minstrel to come closer.

“If that’s true, I’ll get rid of it,” she assured him, pretending everything was under control. She had done it in the past, so why not do it again? Fergus had never found out before, and neither had Dean, but now things were different. Now she wasn’t being careful anymore, and her carefully crafted web of lies was falling apart.

“You won’t,” he stated, not bothering to look at her. “You have humiliated me long enough.”

He tapped his knuckles three times on the wooden table and five of his personal guards were suddenly on them, blocking her view from the rest of the hall. She stood up immediately, decided to leave on her own and retain some of her dignity rather than being escorted out, yet a gloved hand stopped her.

“Not so fast, Y/N,” Fergus said from behind her before she even had the chance to threaten the life of the knight who had dared touch her. “Seize her.”

She was surrounded in half a heartbeat, two of the king’s knights grabbing her arms, the rest of them around her. The metal of their gauntlets dug into her skin, but physical pain was the last thing in her mind at the moment. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up for long.

The minstrel wasn’t singing anymore and the fool wasn’t telling jokes. The only sounds were those of swords being drawn and hard footsteps. Maybe even some gasps here and there.

“Let me go,” she whispered through clenched teeth, clutching at one of the knight’s armored shoulder. “Or you’ll regret this, Fergus.”

“I don’t think I will,” he responded, though she could barely hear him over the chaos the Great Hall had turned into now. Somebody snatched the crown from her head, and she hissed as they pulled her hair in the process. Y/N tried to get a look of the rest of the hall, but she couldn’t even see Fergus over the agglomeration of swords and plate armor. They had her completely enclosed, making it hard to breathe. Where was her personal guard? Where was Dean? She couldn’t see anything as she was dragged out, but she did hear the clank of metal against metal, the screams of horror from the ladies and the hushed whispers from the lords. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears when one of the knights reached forward and ripped her necklace off.

“What the hell?” she shrieked, struggling against their grasp. “Give it back! Give it back now!”

The knight laughed at her and wrapped the chain around his wrist.

“Why would I, little queen? Or should I say little whore now?” he taunted, making another one laugh as well. “You’re not my queen anymore. Let’s see how long you manage to keep your head on your shoulders.”

“It doesn’t belong to you,” she spat, nostrils flaring. “It is mine. You’ll pay for this.”

The knight chuckled again, but didn’t respond as they had reached the main corridors.

Her chest tightened and her heart clenched as the fine piece of jewelry disappeared from her sight. Dean had it made for her... He had no right! They could take her crown, her gold, her pearls, her earrings, her bracelets, her gowns… anything except for that. Tears started to form in her eyes and she attempted to swallow them down. She wouldn’t cry. She was the queen. She wouldn’t lose her composure like this.

Dean would make her another one. He wouldn’t mind that she lost this one, would he? No, he would forgive her. Or maybe he would get it back for her. He’d understand.

They walked through the halls, passing the knights doing their rounds, and none of them batted an eye to their queen being treated like a common thief. How long had Fergus been planning this? They all knew… everyone knew, and none of them warned her. She wondered if Grall had known as well, or if Fergus had decided to get rid of all those in her service.

What about Dean? Had he fought for her? Was he even still alive?

Yes, he was. Of course he was. He would kill them all and get her out of this mess.

She could barely keep up with the pace of Fergus’ dogs with her heavy shoes weighing her down, and lost one of them as they climbed down some stairs she barely recognized. When she noticed the moss in the stone walls, she dug her feet into the ground to try and stop them.

“The dungeons?!” she roared, wriggling out of one’s grasp. “You’re taking me to the dungeons?”

They didn’t answer, grabbing her again as if she was nothing more than a cheap doll. The brutes were just dogs for Fergus to command.

“How dare you!” she screamed, attempting to shove them out of the way. “I am the queen! You can’t do this!”

Even a fly could’ve done them more damage than her as she kicked and screamed, her voice turning hoarse and useless. They were so deep underground now that one of the guards had to carry a torch in front of them, leading the way. Y/N thrashed against them over and over until the one that had stolen her necklace struck her so hard she fell and crumpled on the floor. The shock from the slap and the sting in her cheek kept her quiet for the rest of the way until they reached an old cell that stank of moss and shit, and threw her inside.

She grabbed the old iron bars as they were locking her up.

“When I’m out of here,” she whispered, looking at the brute, “you will be the first to die. It won’t be the gallows or beheading. I’ll burn you alive, you and all your dirty spawn, your mother, your sisters, your children, your wife. I’ll wipe your race off this earth and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

“Keep dreaming, my queen,” he mocked. He spoke once again before leaving her in complete darkness, taking the last torch with him. “Enjoy your stay.”

***

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days. Y/N lost track of time as if she’d been locked up for years. At first, she was certain they would leave her there to rot and die as dehydration started to settle in and nobody approached her with a jug of water or a bite of food. She’d tried calling out into the darkness, but apparently she was the only one buried in this rathole. There was not even a single torch to light her cell, and she ended up wrapping her arms around herself, shivering and hoping Dean would come for her.

She had already grown accustomed to the stink of urine and dampness when a flickering light made its way to her. It was a flame, a torch, she realized as it came closer. It shone so brightly that she couldn’t see who her visitor was, but they handed her a cup of water through the black iron bars.

“Tell Fergus I want to talk to him,” she spoke once she had drank it, trying to sound commanding yet failing as her voice came out raspy and faint. How long had it been?

They didn’t answer, instead taking her cup in complete silence and leaving her in the darkness again.

What would become of her? If they were keeping her alive, Fergus must have something planned, but for what? Maybe to keep her prisoner until she gave birth to the child that was growing in her womb… Dean’s child. Maybe she’d be his prisoner forever. There was another possibility she’d rather not consider at all.

And yet, Dean was the one her mind kept going back to. She rubbed her arms, the cold seeping into her bones, and hoped he would come for her soon. Her only wish was to have his arms around her, sleeping peacefully under her fur covers, as if none of this had ever happened. She closed her eyes and dreamed of tracing his warm skin with her fingers, learning him again, just one more time. She had grown so accustomed to having him always by her side that now her heart ached just to see him. She needed him. Was he even alright? He had to be. Her chest tightened even further at the thought of him being imprisoned just like her, or worse. He deserved none of it. She was the one who had acted like a careless fool, and it wasn’t fair for Dean to be dragged down with her.

If she could go back in time, she would change everything. Sir Dean would be an honorable knight, married to a lady of his status, and she would behave as the queen she was supposed to. Her deceptions and manipulations had been her downfall in the end, but Dean shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of her behavior.

The next time somebody approached her with a torch, it wasn’t to give her water. They were armed men who opened her cell and dragged her out, her knees cracking as they did so. Her authority had disappeared in the time it took a butterfly to bat its wings. Now, Y/N held no more power than a common peasant. Her rise to the throne had been carefully crafted with patience and hard work, only for it to be dismantled to the ground.

Nothing lasts forever. Somehow, she thought she would.

“Where are you taking me?” she whimpered, the effort making her throat ache. It was pointless. Nobody cared enough to give her an answer. Instead, they dragged her through the dungeons until they reached the same stone stairs that had taken her down, and she knew something was about to change. The cramps in her legs didn’t make the climb easy, and the brightness almost blinded her when they reached the top. She reveled in it all the same, as this may be the last time she got to see any of it.

The moment Y/N’s eyes landed on the enormous entrance and heard the clamoring of hundreds of voices, she knew where they were taking her. And it didn’t matter anymore, because at that exact moment she saw who was already there, shackled and forced to kneel before the people.

“Dean!” she screamed, the pain in her throat meaningless. He couldn’t hear her over the commotion, but she kept yelling as they approached him in the wooden platform. Finally, he looked up. His eyes were glassy and the bright green that had always fascinated her was replaced by a dull, dead color.

“Y/N,” he whispered in a broken voice. His lip was split, his face was dirty, and with his brows furrowed, he seemed to be in more pain than she was.

She didn’t know if she’d somehow managed to develop the strength of a soldier, if the guards were distracted, or they simply didn’t care, but she managed to slip away from them and ran towards Dean, kneeling next to him. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to feel him one last time. He stank of blood and sweat, but it was still him, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. There was no executioner waiting in the corner, no guards making their way towards her, no people vociferating and cheering for their deaths. It was just the two of them.

When she pulled away to gaze into his eyes she saw he was crying, and only then did she realize she was crying too. Tears stained both their cheeks as she leaned closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” her voice cracked as she sniffled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you. I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, instead reaching her lips to give her one last kiss. It was sweet and short but it said everything that needed to be said. I love you.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve protected you.”

“I did this to you,” she choked out, lifting a hand to caress his scruffy face. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself get lost in her touch. “Take care of them, please. Tell them I’m sorry and I’ve loved them.”

“Who?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “What’re you talking about?”

“Our children,” she explained. “You have to tell them. Please.”

“No,” he shook his head, leaning away from her. “You’ll tell them yourself.”

“They’re in heaven,” she insisted, her eyes catching the guards approaching them. They didn’t have much time left. “I won’t get to see them, Dean. Promise me you’ll tell them, please.”

“No, no, you’ll be there…”

“I killed them!” Y/N cried, her gaze darting to the guard a few feet away from her now. Dean had to understand. He had to tell them. “I’m going to the deepest pits of hell. Don’t try and comfort me.”

“Then I’m going to hell too,” he whispered. “If there is something waiting for us, I won’t be without you.”

“No,” she smiled softly as the guard grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. She increased the volume of her voice as he started tugging and dragging her away from him. “Your only sin was loving me more than I deserve. I love you. I love you! Tell them I love them! Tell them!!!”

That was the last thing she said before the cries and drumming became so loud they could no longer hear each other. She kept struggling when they forced her to kneel and keep her head down.

Dean mouthed he loved her.

That was the last thing she ever saw before the blade sliced right through her, ending it all forever.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #spn x reader

[imagineteamfreewill]

Prologue

Title: Prologue

Pairing: Future Reader x Dean

Word Count: 1,542

Summary: Dean Winchester has been avoiding his past for as long as possible, but when someone comes into his life that brings up all the painful memories and the secrets he’s been trying to hide, he’ll have to face the truth for the first time in a long time.

A/N: This is the very first part of a series that I’ve been itching to write for a very long time. Please let me know what you think. If you enjoy it, PLEASE let me know that you do so I know that people would be interested in reading it!

X

Back to the Start Masterlist

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Dean sighed and set down the beer he’d been nursing all evening. He’d been avoiding going back to the motel for as long as possible, but seeing as the bartender was starting to stack chairs on top of the tables that had long been empty, it was time to go.

“Thanks,” he said, making sure it was loud enough for her to hear. She looked over and gave him a tired smile, nodding in gratitude when he dropped a twenty in the tip jar. After slipping on his jacket, he headed toward the door, dreading the empty room that was waiting for him.

“Dean?”

He turned, looking back at the girl at the sound of his name.

“Don’t get too down on yourself. You shouldn’t have to do anything or go anywhere you don’t want to—it’s your life, and just because your family and friends say you should do one thing doesn’t mean you have to do it,” she said. After offering him a kind smile, the bartender went back to stacking chairs.

Dean watched her for a moment more, then tugged open the tinted glass door and headed out onto the street. It was warm out, as always, but Dean was glad for the thin jacket he’d brought along. Being up on land was much colder than the warm, salty ocean, and even though he’d hadn’t been in the sea for a little over a year, he still hadn’t adjusted to the cooler temperatures, especially at night.

The thought of the ocean made his chest grow tight and he immediately remembered the strong ache in his legs that had been the sole reason for his trip to the bar. It had been a week since Dean had touched salt water. Earlier that morning, Dean had realized that he had to stop putting off his need for it. The pain grew unbearable after a while, and even though Dean had always prided himself on being tough, it was beginning to grow hard to stand whenever his legs hurt this bad.

Sighing, Dean turned around and began walking to the grocery store down the street from the bar. It wasn’t the one he normally shopped at, but he knew that they’d have the sea salt that, when mixed with warm water in the motel’s bathtub, felt the most like home. As he walked, Dean pulled out his wallet and looked through the meager amount of cash he had left. He hadn’t been paid yet, but he had just enough to get the salt and some waffles in the morning.

“Dumb humans can’t figure out proper currency” Dean grumbled as his mind drifted for a moment to the money he’d had in his old life.

A man bumped into him as he spoke, causing Dean to stumble and clench his teeth as the hollow ache in his legs grew. The man glanced over his shoulder at Dean. He looked thoroughly confused; and, knowing that he’d been heard, Dean shot the stranger a blinding smile and continued on his way.

“It’s not like he’s gonna tell anyone,” he mumbled to himself as he slipped inside the supermarket. “Who’d believe him anyway? That Dean guy from the motel isn’t human—yeah, right. They’d think he’s crazy before they came looking for me.”

The teenager at the checkout line glanced up at Dean as he entered, then looked immediately back down at the magazine she had been flipping through.

“Hey!” Dean called, gaining her attention once more. “I’m not human!”

“Yeah, and I’m a millionaire,” the girl replied, rolling her eyes in the process. Under her breath, she mumbled something about drunk people, then went back to reading before Dean could say anything else.

Grinning, Dean wove his way through the various aisle displays toward the condiment section, then grabbed three boxes of the salt he’d come for. He was turning to walk back to the checkout, however, when a sharp pain shot up his leg. Dean grabbed onto the shelf and grit his teeth as the pain washed over him. How he’d ignored his need for saltwater so long he had no idea, but it was clear as day now; Dean had to get back to the motel and get into the bath before something disastrous happened to him.

After the pain faded back into the original dull ache, Dean limped to the cashier and quickly purchased the two containers. The girl behind the counter had clearly regained her sense of humanity because she tried to question if he needed food or if he wanted to use the store’s phone to call a taxi, but Dean quickly dismissed her with a smile and gathered up the bag. He was out the door before she could try to ask him anything else, and he was arriving outside his motel room only minutes after that.

_______________

Three hours later, Dean was fast asleep in the motel bathtub. The ache in his legs was long gone now that the salt had dissolved, and after a week of walking on two legs, Dean was more than grateful for the chance to stretch his fins for  even a brief moment. Sure, the bathtub wasn’t quite big enough for him to stretch out fully, but it was just big enough for the majority of his tail to be under the lukewarm water.

The sound of his phone ringing caused Dean to jolt awake, back into the harsh reality of the motel room’s grimy bathroom. He’d been dreaming about swimming through the coral reef just off the coast of the island—the more beautiful one that tourists didn’t know about, the one with plenty of fish that didn’t hesitate to swim up to you, the one with colorful coral that stretched on for miles—but now he was awake.

With a heavy sigh, Dean reached over the side of the tub and plucked his jeans from the tile floor, then dug his cell from the pocket.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice thick and slurred with sleep.

“Dean Winchester?” replied the voice on the other end.

“Mm. Who is this?”

“It’s Tom,” he answered. “I understand that it’s quite late, but the owners of the house you were interested just called. They told me that you could have the house for free, but that they want to meet you for lunch tomorrow before they give it to you. If you can’t meet, then they’ll find someone else.”

That piqued Dean’s interest. He’d been trying to move out of the motel and closer to the beaches ever since he’d decided to live on land, but he didn’t want to be anywhere that there’d be lots of tourists, or even where the locals spent their time. After months of searching, Dean had finally found a ramshackle house that was on a little island of its own. It was connected to the mainland by a long wooden bridge. Dean spent twenty minutes looking around the property and decided that it was perfect for him—it was quiet and out of the way, and since it was surrounded by the ocean, he could spend as much time swimming in real saltwater as he needed. The rocks around the house weren’t ideal, but that meant that there were no sandy beaches to attract tourists looking for someplace quiet.

“For free?” Dean asked, sitting up in the tub. The end of his tail slid into the water with a splash and Dean held back a sigh of relief when he felt the water touched his fins. “Why would they give a complete stranger that property for free, Tom?”

“I don’t know, but I didn’t want to ask questions and risk losing the property for you just because I got curious,” Tom told him. “Do you want me to tell them you can’t make it?”

Dean thought for a moment, then sighed. “No, I’ll be there. Just text me the place and the time.”

“I’ll do that,” Tom said.

Without waiting for any further reply, Dean ended the call and dropped the phone back onto his jeans. He wasn’t in any mood to talk about where he might be living in the very near future. All he wanted to do was to go back to dreaming about the home he’d grown up in, but that dream had long since slipped away. Now he was back in the human world, and he was hating every minute of it. Even the familiar shimmering green of his tail scales didn’t interest him. If it were any other day, Dean would want to spend the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if he’d stayed with his childhood pod, but tonight he didn’t even want to wonder if his gleaming, colorful scales would have been enough to woo the prettiest of his female friends.

Dean sighed and pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the tub. After reaching down and pulling the plug, he remained sitting and watched the water swirl down the drain, leaving only the salt behind. The strange, tugging sensation of his tail becoming human legs again made his heart sink.

“I guess it’s better this way,” he murmured. “After all, who’d want a mermaid who runs at the first sign of danger?”

_______________

Want to be tagged in this series? There will be a special tag list, as well as my Forever and Dean tag lists. You can find all three HERE!

If your name is bolded and crossed out, you are at risk for being dropped from the tag list because I cannot tag you.

Forever: @deathtonormalcy56  @purgatoan @feelmyroarrrr @shadowgirl077 @mogarukes @jayankles @amaranthinecastiel @jpadjackles @d-s-winchester @kickasscas67 @mrswhozeewhatsis @therebel1967 @supernatural-harrypotter7 @allinhishands @ultimatecin73 @crystallstaircase @a-screaming-ghost @huffleypuffelycas @procrastinating-fallen-angel @kittycat-cas @dracsgirl @deansleather @queenindecisive @wildfirekhaleesi @fuckyeahfeysand @sandlee44 @plaidstiel-wormstache @spontaneousam @kristaparadowski @adaliamalfoy @winchesterforever12 @fangirl1802 @supernaturalyobessed @mamaredd123 @findingfitnessforme @weepingrebelhottub @notesfromalabprincess @dustycelt @becaamm @riversong-sam @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @therewillbeblood @maddieburcham1 @fangirlwithasweettooth  @ohgodjensen @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @notmoose45 @yvngkinggchristyy @becs-bunker @wingsanddarkness @docharleythegeekqueen @xthefuckerysquaredx @megasimpleplan4ever @tiffanycaruso @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @lynnebla @crushing83 @4401lnc @essie1876 @lostnliterature @apeshit7x @emoryhemsworth @illbewendyyoubepeter @l4life @beatlesobsessionlove @goldenolaf25 @shellbraa @sammiesamness​

Dean: @lipstickandwhiskey @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @beriala @charliesbackbitches @crzcorgi @ellen-reincarnated1967 @gryffindorable713 @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @treble-maker95 @sis-tafics @fandommaniacx @meganwinchester1999 @samanddeanwinchester67 @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @ackleslaugh @fangirling-instead-of-working @hellbentcrowley @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @torn-and-frayed @spnsimpleman @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @pada-ackles-reads @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @curliesallovertheplace @jencharlan @thebunkerismyhome @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @shipping-people-writing-things @tia58 @sams-little-toy @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @a-closet-full-of-skeletons @ruprecht0420 @thegoodhunterrr5 @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @deantbh @babypieandwhiskey @waywardjoy @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @spn-fan-girl-173 @samsgoddess @thegreatficmaster @megansescape @faegal04 @everyday-supernatural-af @wevegotworktodo @deerlululucy @supermoonpanda @sleep-silent-angel @trenchcoats-and-bees @not-so-natural-spn @shelovesallthethings @memariana91 @chelsea-winchester @revwinchester @supernaturalyobessed @matteson-crazed @allonsy-yesiwlill @akshi8278 @donnaintx @iwrotemyownending @quiddy-writes @lavieenlex @winchesterseeker @crazysocklovingfangirl @love-me-some-pie21 @naturegirl70 @its-not-a-tulpa

#mermaid!dean #mermaid!dean x reader #reader x mermaid!dean #dean #dean winchester #reader x dean #dean x reader #reader x dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fic #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #imagineteamfreewill #spn #supernatural #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spnfanficpond #reader insert #jellyfish fic

[chalabrun]

busker street, chapter 1

Word Count: 1,583 Pairing: Ignoct, Ignis/Noctis Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: The mainstream music scene is one of the most demanding, carnivorous industries on the planet. When Ignis, a secretary at his uncle’s record label, meets the multi-talented street musician Noctis, it’s in him that he’ll fight for the right for this young man to be his muse.

                                               READ ON AO3

It was in routine that he found security and familiarity, warm and wonderful in the moments before a brew when the air was captivated by his favorite roasts as he prepared himself for the day. Making coffee was like a timer, in a way. Each day was a slightly different brew, sometimes with shots for an Espresso, sometimes not. Variety in an otherwise predictable, placid routine.

Emerging from the swanky apartment complex he lived in, SoCal weather seldom disappointed with its breezy warmth hailed from the Pacific, not yet baring the high heat of noon that often came with the summer season. Late winter by US standards, the temperature was mild but still warmer than other places, such as his native England that had been his childhood home until six years of age. London had its age, yes, but Los Angelos had its vibrancy. Enough color to make the world go ‘round, one might say.

It was fortunate Ignis’ residence was but a short walk from Hollywood, where his workplace proper was located at the border of Hollywood—not very far from the luxuriant Beverly Hills, either. Ignis’ commutes were often interesting, as spying the occasional celebrity and their throngs of devotees and paparazzi was seldom a rarity. But, commonplace in his business.

“Pardon me. I’m afraid I didn’t see you,” he apologized as he almost ran into an elderly Hispanic woman who only chuckled kindly, waving off the indiscretion and his apparent distracted walk. No matter. They’d be able to cross soon enough.

Dappled shade saved his sight from the worst of a gradually looming sun, the softness of the morning fading away into harsh daylight. Well, perhaps not so harsh. Busker Street was a pleasant, idyllic road compared to others in the contemporary, flashy sector of LA. A beatnik’s paradise, stuffed with short, squat, few-story buildings nevertheless full of centennial charm was an artistic epicenter in the city, lined with old trees that took away from the inevitability of the city.

Ignis couldn’t help but cease moving when the twang of a warm-up guitarist caught his periphery, fellow pedestrians moving past him as though he were a stone in the river. Politely did he move from the line of traffic and deviated from the morning commute, walking beneath the shade until he came before a small crowd blocking half of the wide sidewalk.

Street musicians weren’t rare. Far from it, especially here. However, as he peeked over the shoulders of a particularly short man, he couldn’t help but be enraptured. Ignis saw an electric guitarist surrounded by a keyboard, live microphone, as he was establishing the harmony and melody as Ignis had seen several times before at the recording sessions at the record company. Lord knew he’d seen his fair share of acoustic guitarists, but nothing this complicated before. And when he saw the man beatboxing, Ignis’ brows admittedly shot up.

What ensued was nothing short of entrancing. A jazzy baseline, a funky guitar riff; mingling sounds that logically shouldn’t work together did, and brilliantly. Like accidental genius. At times, the musician’s vocals switched between double reverb and normal, a mystical quality to the lyrics. Not conscious of his own staring, when the musician himself turned his gaze over the crowd, their eyes met. Not having seen his face before, it was like electricity when they matched gazes. Undeniably attractive, even beneath the shade of a baseball cap, Ignis felt himself fluster when he remembered himself. Excusing himself from the throng, he continued again on his way to work.

“If I have to listen to another fucking auto-tune pop princess or some greasy hippie boy on an acoustic guitar, I might as well call it quits.”

It was 9 by the time Ignis came to his uncle’s office on the top floor, Citadel Records something of a sheer trek to ascend even by elevator. A major powerhouse in the music industry, it wasn’t without reason. With two mugs of piping hot coffee in hand, Ignis smiled in some odd amusement. “Auto-tune pop princess? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” he admitted mirthfully as the mugs were set on coasters before the older man’s desk, the elder Scientia raking his fingers through thinning blond hair.

“Yes, Ignis, auto-tune pop princess. You ever hear them without it? They sound like shit, most of them. Get the rare talent, but by God are they rare,” Markus Scientia groused as he snatched for his coffee, face half buried in his other hand while he nursed the Espresso. Looking thoughtful and grim, he seemed to brighten some once he’d drunk the coffee proper, a wily smile spanning. “Least the coffee keeps us sane. The hell do you put in it, anyways?”

“Magic, perhaps. Fairy dust,” Ignis replied with a soft smirk as he sat in one of two chairs before the executive’s desk, crossing his legs and sipping quietly at his own.

Markus snorted. “Fucking hairy dust. Long as it works, I suppose.”

They were thoughtful for a long moment, until Ignis was the one who broke the pregnant pause. “None of the applicants were promising?” he broached, glancing over the rim of his mug before setting it on its coaster.

His uncle sighed, doing more or less the same. “Much as we’ve got enough talent as it is, you know how it is, Ignis. People always crave something new. Familiar only lasts so long, and if we’re going to break into the damn indie scene, we need new. Really crash in and set a flag in like it’s the damn moon landing. Real different, you know?”

Ignis couldn’t help but reflect on the musician he encountered that morning, it still feeling like he’d walked from a dream. Considering he passed Busker Street every day weather-permitting, it was his first time hearing this one. Those deep sapphire eyes stuck on him like glue, stamped on his memory like the sound he’d made. New.

“Have you considered looking in the actual scene itself? There are many indie artists in the area, as I’ve been made aware,” he suggested, emerald eyes flicking towards his uncle’s.

Markus snorted, nearly spewing some of his drink indecorously. “I want new, Igs! Never before heard, unknown, not fucking bottom feeders everyone’s heard of. Good ones, of course.”

With each passing moment, this mystery musician was becoming more and more appealing a prospect. Though, just as Ignis opened his mouth to speak, Markus waved off the subject. “What about this whole lyricist business? Come up with anything good? Much as we’re about fostering talent and all that shit, I can’t have you dawdling from your duties for some artsy-fartsy nonsense. You’re the best secretary I’ve got, kid.”

Ah, that.

Ignis straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose, remembering he’d left his briefcase by his desk outside. “One moment, uncle,” Ignis said distractedly as he left his mug of coffee at the desk, his uncle’s eyes expectantly boring into his back. Outside, the managing division in all its business yawned before him, hard at work even so early in the morning.

“Anythin’ excitin’ goin’ on in there, Igs?” Cindy ventured in her southern drawl, leaning back in her office chair with a sunny smile.

Ignis regarded the blond with a faint scoff, but smiled warmly back. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. Perhaps I’ll have news by lunch break, Miss Aurum.”

Finding the right shief of papers and a notebook with ideas, Ignis stepped back into his uncle’s office who clapped his hands once whilst Ignis slid the papers on the older Scientia’s desk. Rumpling some of the documents in hand, he leaned back with a creak in his seat and propped both feet commandingly on his desk, Ignis taking his seat again and waiting quietly as he read through what material he’d brought.

Markus made no articulation of an opinion that Ignis could discern, leafing through before he lifted those similarly green eyes to his nephew. “It’s not bad, Igs, but it sure as hell wouldn’t sell on a mainstream market,” the older man began, sliding the documents across his desk, then smiling puckishly, “but I like it. Think once we found our flagship act, you could be the one who wrote their songs. Guess it’s not such a bad thing your old man made you take all those Honors and AP classes back in high school.”

Ignis’ composure became disarmed by the praise, admittedly first worrying that he’d found some of the songs he’d written to be too esoteric for a common audience. Not that he was incapable of producing for the pop genre, but it simply felt unsuitable. “Thank you, uncle,” Ignis beamed back, Markus laughing heartily.

Just as he moved to collect his things to begin work at his own desk, Markus stopped him. “Oh, once you’re all done with this shit, two things: I need you to go to that exhibit opening party or whatever downtown for me. That’s this weekend. And, uh, tomorrow—I was thinking I could give you a sort-of day off. Do some scouting for raw talent, y’know? Pass out business cards, network and shit like that. Got it, Igs?”

Ignis nodded, papers rolled in his hand and half-drunk coffee in the other, looking a little flustered to begin the day’s work. “I think that should be doable, uncle. I’ll be certain to clear my schedule.”

“Glad I can count on you, Igs!”

#ignis scientia #ignis stupeo scientia #noctis lucis caelum #ignoct #ignis x noctis #ffxv fanfic #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #my writing

[rippling-waves]

悲しみに暮れて、あなたの涙が溢れる時 寂しさに溢れた心が萎んでく時 名前を呼ぶよ あなたの名前を 僕の名前を呼んでくれたみたいに Whenever you're darkened by sadness and your tears overflow Whenever your heart floods with loneliness and begins to waste away I'll call out a name: your name, Just as you once called out mine.

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa from Bungou Stray Dogs, an image somewhat inspired from season 1 and 2 EDs? He’s still my fave even though he basically:

Has the complexion of people from black and white films

Looks like he’s wearing a coat made of trash bag material

Is in a terrible state both physically and mentally (unhealthy obsession for being acknowledged by senpai and perpetually dying)

His eyes look like grapes (think it was from someone’s tumblr post)

Fond memories of last October when I first found BSD and started watching anime in earnest; namae wo yobu yo helped pulled me through trying times. Also glad I got to convince several of my peers to watch it -rolls vigorously on floor-

But still can’t find the motivation to continue the manga past the bloody moby dick fight -whale noises- reading manga is so energy consuming because I spend unnecessary time studying how they draw characters and end up staring at 1 frame for a minute

My first watercolor pic in 2 years; artists on IG taught a lot with their videos. The plain pencil version is starting to appeal more to me than the finished one argh, but painting was fun~

Used lots of google picture references of course, and found out red spider lilies (I admit Tokyo Ghoul gave me the idea) had interesting symbolism:

In Hanakotoba (Japnese language of flowers, basically means symbolism), they symbolize loss, longing, abandonment and lost memories

Are generally associated with death

It is believed if you meet a person you’ll never see again, these flowers grow along your path

Legend has it the scent of the flowers bring back beautiful memories of the dead one last time before they disappear when they cross the Forgotten River [similar to one of the Chinese beliefs of the "Bridge of Helplessness" (奈何橋), a bridge every soul has to cross before being reincarnated, they are said to drink the Mengpo soup (孟婆汤) at the bridge so they will forget everything in their current lives and prepare for reincarnation.]

Fits in with angsty aku quite well I think, with his orphan origins, being left behind by Dazi and all the death and destruction he causes to others as well as himself.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #akutagawa #ryunosuke akutagawa #port mafia #watercolor #my post #never seen a real spider lily though :/

[swlbarnes]

Snow Cone - Newt Scamander x Reader

A little modern high school AU with our little resident Hufflepuff magizoologist. This was inspired by my friend’s encounter with her crush that played out a little bit like this, but the end wasn’t quite the same... You’ll see ;)))) (NO SMUT I DON’T SO SMUT GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER FFS)

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

It was that time of year again. Summer. The fair was back in town again, and this time you had managed to score a part time job helping out with the festivities as a way to earn some extra cash. It was the first day of the fair, and even though it was early on in the summer season, the sun was still beating down on you with an intense ferocity. Beads of sweat were already beginning to form on your forehead, and you swiped the back of your hand over the damp skin in an attempt to rid yourself of the sticky liquid. You had only been out in the heat for a couple of hours so far, yet your hair was already stuck down to your drenched forehead.

"(Y/N)!" The voice of your boss rang out through the bustling crowds. You put down the tools you were using to try to fix one of the games and turned to the lanky woman making her way over to you. She had her head bowed over a clipboard as she scribbled furiously.

"Yes ma'am?" You addressed her as you wiped your hands on your shorts. She clicked her pen and tucked it behind her ear before peering up at you.

"I need you to take over back at the snow cone truck. Scotty got heat stroke, the poor fella, and now the whole snow cone operation is being thrown out of whack!" She spoke quickly, tossing her hands around as she stammered on. Her hair was wild as she had visibly been running her fibers through it. Her forehead seemed to have a heavier sheen of sweat than your own did, which was a bit of a relief to be completely honest.

You furrowed your brows. "But, what about the game?" You asked her, motioning towards your half completed project. She simply shook her head.

"It'll have to wait. Now, hurry! Newt was already getting antsy when I left!"

You nodded and quickly scurried away, making your way through the crowds towards the snow cone truck in the center of the fair. You tried your best to ignore the butterflies that danced around in your stomach at the mention of Newt Scamander. He was, in your eyes, by far the cutest boy at your school. He was in a couple of your classes the year before, but you had never worked up the courage to approach him. It became evident around a week in that the soft spoken boy was too shy to approach anyone either. You managed to get through an entire school year without speaking to Newt a single time. Your friends made sure to scold you for this on the last day of school, causing your cheeks to turn a bright red and a feeling of hopelessness to settle itself down in your chest.

The brightly colored snow cone truck appeared in your view, and you took long strides to make your way over to it. You slipped through the crowds, muttering soft apologies as you went along, until you made it to the large doors on the back of the truck. You grabbed the handle of one of the doors and swung it open, causing a cool breeze to curl around your body. You reveled in the feeling for only a moment before bounding up the stairs and closing the door behind you.

"You guys called for backup?" You addressed the two people standing inside the truck with you. You recognized the shorter man from your science class last year. His name was Jacob Kowalski, and he always seemed to be bringing in the most exquisite pastries to share. Since you sat next to him, he would often sneak you an extra couple of the delicacies with a sly wink.

Next to him was the tall ginger man that made your heart beat wildly inside your chest. Newt's feet shuffled against the floor as he averted his eyes away from you and back to the paper cup half filled with ice clutched in his hands. You quickly shifted your gaze back to Jacob, who was looking at you with a grin.

"(Y/N)! Good to see you! You coming to help us out?" He asked in a bubbly tone. You smiled and nodded.

"Sure am. What can I do to help?" You rubbed your hands together, looking around the truck for something to do.

Jacob motioned to the place next to Newt, which was directly in front of the large window that Newt was taking orders from. "Newt's scooping the ice into the cups, so you can ask what flavor they want and I'll go grab the syrup so you can add it to the snow cone. That sound good?"

You nodded in agreement, and the three of you set off to work. You had to admit that it was a bit unnerving standing so close to Newt. The window was quite small, so in order for both of you to be able to speak to the customers you had to squish together, your sides pressed against each other. You refused to let yourself look at him, knowing that it would only make you more anxious. Instead, you did your best to ignore him and do your job.

Luckily, it didn't take long for the line to die down again. What was once around 15 people at once became about two of three people every five minutes or so. Your hands and arms were covered in snow cone syrup, so it was your worst nightmare when the bridge of your nose began to itch.

You raised a hand to your face to scratch it, only to freeze when your fingers were only inches away. You yanked your hand back and tried to use your arm, only to find that it was covered in the sugary substance as well. You let out a little whine of annoyance as the itch became more and more intense.

"Are you okay?" A soft British voice asked you in concern. You whirled around to look at Newt with wide eyes. His brows were furrowed and his head was tilted ever so slightly.

"O-Oh, yeah I'm fine, i-it's just... My nose itches, and..." You held up your sticky hands and wiggled your fingers around. The situation seemed to click in Newt's mind, and he chuckled softly.

"Here," he muttered, reaching a hand out and quickly scratching the bridge of your nose. The itch immediately faded away, causing you to sigh in relief.

"Oh thank God, thank you, Newt," you thanked him gratefully. He gave you a small smile and a nod in response. You turned around but stopped abruptly as you noticed something was missing. "Newt?"

"Hm?"

"Where'd Jacob go?"

You heard the sound of Newt's shoes as he turned and looked around the truck as well. "I don't know... When did he leave?"

You huffed and shrugged. "I'm not sure, but he better get back here before the rush starts again. I can't handle this on my own."

"Hey! What am I then?" Newt questioned, crossing his arms over his chest playfully. Your eyes widened and you bit your lip.

"N-no! I didn't mean it like that, it's just that I... These people like so many different flavors and the syrup is on the other side of the truck and I just-"

Newt cut you off with a chuckle, and you swore you could see the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks. "It's okay! I was only kidding," he assured you. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Don't do that to me, Scamander. You scared the living crap out of me."

He chuckled and turned back to the ice machine for a moment, leaving you in silence. You let out a soft sigh and peered down at your sugar coated hands. A maniacal grin spread across your face. If you were going to be in here all day with a cute boy, you might as well make it fun.

You tip toed up behind Newt and slowly reached out towards him before quickly smearing some of the syrup onto him and scurrying away. Newt let out a small gasp as he whirled around, peering down at his arm in shock.

"Did you just wipe snow cone syrup on me?" He asked you in disbelief. You grinned and shrugged.

"I dunno. Did I?"

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully, reaching over and grabbing one of the large syrup squirt bottles. He pumped a handful into his palm before slowly stalking over to you.

"W-Wait, Newt we can talk about this!" You tried to reason with him as you slowly stepped away from him. Your blood ran cold as your back hit the metal doors locking you inside. Your eyes widened. "Don't do this!"

"Sorry, (Y/N), it's only fair!" He shouted. He darted forwards and hurled the syrup at you. The dark purple liquid splashed against your fairgrounds employee shirt, causing the fabric to stick messily to your stomach.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and you slowly craned your neck upwards to see Newt standing there victoriously. You narrowed your eyes at the man. "This... This means war, Scamander..." You whispered. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw his Adam's apple bob with fear.

Without giving him any sort of warning, you rushed forward and grabbed the nearest bottle of syrup, which judging by the color and scent you assumed it to be cherry, and you pointed the bottle directly at him. Newt let out a squeak of surprise and held his hands up in surrender. "Don't shoot!" He cried pleadingly.

"Sorry, Newt! No mercy!"

You slammed your open palm down on the pump, causing the red liquid to shoot out in a steady stream towards Newt's chest. He tried to move his arms to cover himself, but he was just barely too late, and only ended up making a bigger mess. You lowered the bottle triumphantly and let out a joyful laugh.

You thought for sure that you had won. Newt's arms and shirt were dripping with syrup, and his head was bowed in an attempt to keep the stuff that had gotten in his hair out of his eyes. It wasn't until Newt reached over and scooped up a handful of shaved ice that you realized how wrong you were.

Newt used his free hand to brush back his syrup soaked hair. His other hand began to drip with little droplets of water as the ice began to melt. He gave you an uncharacteristic smirk before bring his arm back and hurling the ice ball at you with all of his might.

You let out a high pitched squeal as you spun on the balls of your feet. You seemed to turn just in time, because as soon as you turned you felt the icy cold ball hit you right in the center of your back. You quickly began to brush the ice off of your back to rid yourself of the freezing cold feeling.

You turned back towards Newt, your jaw dropped as he looked at you with a triumphant grin. "You did not!" You cried out in disbelief. New simply shrugged.

"You started it," he replied simply.

You scoffed and began stepping towards him, your pace slow and deliberate. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump of fear in his throat, and this sight tugged the corners of your mouth upwards in a maniacal smile. Now it was Newt's turn to start stepping back until his back hit the wall, at which point you leapt forward and scooped up a handful of ice and chucked it at Newt with far less than expert precision. The ball of snow broke midair and showered the man head to toe in freezing cold ice. He was barely even able to cover his face before the impact.

Newt let out a small squeak as the ice hit him, and immediately he began to brush himself off just as you had done. You continued to go back and forth, throwing ice and syrup at each other and completely forgetting about the bustling fair outside.

Soon enough, you both grew tired. Your chests heaved with each gulp of air you took. Your lips and hands were a frigid shade of blue, and you could hear your teeth chattering even over the sounds of the crowds outside the truck. You looked up at Newt to see him in the same state as you as he shivered and rubbed at his arms in an attempt to warm himself up. Despite the cold, you both had pleased smiles on your faces. Newt's hair stuck flat against his forehead as the ice chunks in his curls began to melt, and you were sure that your hair looked similar.

"Well, that was..." Newt began, only for you to jump up and finish his sentence.

"Really fun," you blurted out hopefully. A feeling of relief washed over you as Newt smiled softly.

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding his head. "You know, when I heard they were sending you over here to help out, I was a bit worried," Newt admitted. He tipped his head downwards to stare at the ground as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"What? Why were you worried?"

He shrugged before responding. "It's just, at school you seem so... Cool."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Me? Cool? All I do is make stupid puns and high five myself for them."

A small smile graced his lips. "Maybe so, but that's who you are. You're not cool because you're popular, you're cool because you're so... Unapologetically you. I've never seen anyone quite like you, and I just felt that I could never compare."

You took a tentative step forward and attempted to meet his eyes, but he only shifted his gaze away from you again. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I felt the exact same way coming here," you admitted as well. Newt finally looked up to meet your eyes, a small smile making its way onto his lips. He quirked an eyebrow upwards.

"Really?"

"Really really."

In a sudden surge of confidence, Newt leaned towards you and pressed his lips against yours. You froze momentarily before melting into it, allowing your fingers to tangle themselves in his syrup soaked hair. His lips tasted like cherries from the liquid that coated them, but you truly weren't complaining. You were vaguely aware of his hands as they snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Any harsh chill you were harboring from your previous ice fight was long gone at this point as you felt a newfound warmth spreading through your veins.

You begrudgingly pulled away for air moments later. Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths, and both you and Newt had pleased smiles on your faces. "Wow," you whispered softly. He chuckled.

"Wow indeed," he agreed.

You simply stood in each other's arms for a moment, trying to cherish the moment while you could. Your moment didn't last long, however, because shortly after you heard the sound of the truck doors opening and closing.

"Uh..." A male voice droned questioningly. You whirled around to see Jacob staring at the two of you with a quirked brow. "Is this... A bad... Time...?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the concerned look on his face, and the three of you got back to work at once, only this time you didn't feel quite as awkward when your arm brushed against Newt's.

#newt scamander #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander x reader #newt x reader #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fluff #fanfic #wow i wish this was me smh #hufflepuff #i love newt scamander so much honestly #protect newt scamander at all costs

[rowdy-revenant]

Shorty Squad

Based on the request by: @like-gabriel-and-castiel

Words: 1100+

Characters (no romantic pairings): short!reader, Chuck, Gabriel, Sam, Dean

[general masterlist]

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Short stuff. Pipsqueak. Fun size. For some reason you'd be called anything but your own name.

You weren't that short. Okay, maybe a little under average height, but the Winchesters where giants! Especially Sam.

Living with them was a nightmare. They walked more quickly, used higher shelves, and wouldn't let you hear the end of it.

"What's the weather like down there?" Dean chortled.

You kicked him in the shin. "Mind your own business."

"Woah there, espresso!"

"Espresso?" You asked.

"Yeah, small and bitter." Dean said, right before getting another kick in the leg.

You glared at the eldest brother. "Shut up. It's not my fault I'm not vertically enhanced."

Dean shrugged and carried on his way, limping slightly.

None of this was new.

Sam, on the other hand, tried his best to avoid the topic about your height. Usually.

Drunk Sam was a completely different situation. You hated drunk Sam.

But a few celebratory beers in the bunker after a successful case, he wasn't holding back.

"You're so- hic- so tiny!" Sam giggled, using you as an armrest.

"Get off." You growled, pushing his arm away.

He laughed and stumbled into a wall. "You're like a doll," Sam slurred. "And this is your dollhouse!" He made a large sweeping motion with his arms, gesturing to the bunker.

"I'm not that small." You spat.

"Look at your tiny hands!"

"I'll strangle you with these tiny hands, how about that?" You asked bitterly.

"But, Y/N, it's true! Tiny hands, tiny legs, tiny tiny tiny." Sam rambled.

You gritted your teeth. "Stop. Saying. Tiny."

"Nooope!"

You took a deep breath. Fighting with your friend your drunk belittling you wasn't worth it. You just turned on your heel and went to bed.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

You were hoping to walk out unnoticed. Your hand moved away from the doorknob and you turned to face the Winchester. "Out."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Out where?"

"They're meeting up with the Shorty Squad." Dean laughed.

You glared at him. "Need I remind you that the "shorty squad" includes an archangel and, oh yeah, God himself?"

Dean huffed. "They're still short, God looks like a breeze could blow and he'd fall over."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"No, wait-"

"Adios!" You said, opening the door and striding out.

"And that's the story of the first bridal shower." Gabriel said, concluding his story about his visit to the Virgin Mary.

You stared at the soda can in your hands, tapping your fingers against the aluminum. You'd become friends with Chuck and Gabriel, and regularly took some time away from hunting to hang out, eat pizza, and watch a cheesy movie.

"Hellooo, Earth to Y/N." Gabriel called, poking your side. "Come on, usually you'd call me something like "holy pregnancy test" or something."

"Sorry, I'm just..." You sighed. "I'm fine."

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You know we can both read minds, right?"

"You wouldn't dare." You said, narrowing your eyes.

"Tell us what's on it and we won't read it," Gabriel promised. "Scout's honour." The archangel raised his hand and made a crossing motion over his heart with the other.

You sighed. "It's Sam and Dean-"

"Those assholes!" Gabriel exclaimed, rising from his seat.

"Gabriel, let Y/N finish." Chuck commanded calmly. Reluctantly, Gabriel sat.

You sighed. "Sam and Dean just can't seem to stop poking fun of my height. Apparently, me being short is hilarious."

Gabriel and Chuck shared a glance.

"Don't do it." Chuck pleaded.

"Oh, I'm gonna do it!" Gabriel chuckled.

You were utterly confused. "Do what?" You asked.

Gabriel grinned and leaned towards you, folding his hands together as if he were about to make an offer you couldn't refuse. "Y/N, what if I told you we could give those two a taste of their own medicine?"

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. "We talked about abusing your powers, Gabriel."

Gabe scoffed. "Chillax, dad. Nobody's gonna die," He leaned in closer to you and whispered. "Unless you want them to."

"Gabriel!"

"Okay, okay!" Gabriel muttered. "Y/N, you'll wake up tomorrow and you'll be taller than Sam and Dean."

You grinned. "Really?"

"Really really." Gabriel assured. He raised a hand when Chuck opened his mouth to speak. "Temporarily, of course. And nobody's gonna die."

Chuck looked conflicted. "Alright, I'm in. I'll help. But one day only!"

"Thanks, guys." You grinned. "I can't wait."

'Today's the day' You told yourself. You sat up in bed and stretched. How tall would you be? Six feet? Seven even? You got up, looked in the mirror and...

Nothing looked different. Your clothes in the closet still fit, that one shelf was still too high, and you were still plain old short. Did Gabriel and Chuck back out?

You sighed in disappointment. Not like you weren't used to it. You trudged towards the kitchen, ready to once again use a stool to reach what you needed on the top shelf.

The hallways were unusually quiet. You poked your head into Sam's room. He'd usually be up for his jog at this time, but the room was quiet. You called his name and got nothing in return. Dean's room was just as vacant.

You carried on to the kitchen, stopping when you noticed the new centerpiece on the library table. A tiny little bunker, cut in half to show the inside. You wondered who put this dollhouse there. Gabriel's idea of a joke?

"Y/N!" A faint voice called.

You looked around and saw nobody.

"Down here!" It said again.

You moved around the table to the open side and almost bust a gut laughing.

The dollhouse had two dolls. Two tiny, tiny brothers.

"Took you long enough!" Dean yelled, ceasing to pace around the miniature garage.

Sam leaned against a wall. "We can't find any hexbags."

"Probably because it's not a witch." You mumbled.

Sam frowned. "I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"A witch didn't turn you guys into Polly Pockets. It was Gabriel." You giggled.

Dean looked like he was about to explode. "That little-"

A flutter of wings brought an archangel to your side. "You wanna finish that thought, bucko?" Gabriel asked.

"This was you?" Sam asked, his tone growing less and less patient with each growing- or shrinking- second.

"The three of us." Chuck said, walking to your side out of nowhere, and wearing Dean's bathrobe. "The "Shorty Squad" I believe you called us."

Dean turned red. "You heard that bit huh?"

"And the rest."

Dean gulped.

"Can you turn us back to normal?" Sam asked.

"Hmm," Gabriel pondered, a finger to his chin. "No."

"Not yet. We have terms." Chuck said. "First, no height related nicknames or bullying."

"Second, no using me as an armrest or picking me up." You continued.

"Third," Gabriel chimed in. "Don't be dicks. There are lower shelves for a reason."

Chuck crossed his arms, standing protectively beside you. "If we hear anything, you'll be right back to being fun sized."

"Okay, okay, we give!" Dean yelled.

"Say you're sorry." Gabriel chided.

Sam and Dean lowered their heads and spoke in unison. "We're sorry, Y/N."

"Apology accepted." You said, smiling.

Dean looked up at Gabe. "So how long does this last?"

Gabe smirked. "Twenty four hours."

"Son of a bitch!"

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

@alexanderhamlinsin @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr @baritonechick @crowleysprincess159 @d4rzill4 @eileenlikesyou-maybe @ellienovak @elven-leaf @fayemenelmir @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel @hiddles-and-skittles @hp-hogwartsexpress @jadangelofthelord @kielbaza-trickster-kaz2y5 @kristaparadowski @lenawiinchester @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes @sdavid09 @shrimpdrake @thewhiterabbit42 @treitike @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian @tyrex15 @unsink-the-titanic

#short!reader #gabriel #chuck #sam #dean #reader insert #like-gabriel-and-castiel #supernatural imagine

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You Pt. 2

Wow. Didn’t expect this amount of people reading the first part. I truly appreciate the love thrown this way :D

This thing might be a 3-4 parter. It’s unintentionally become a slow burn. Here’s part 2!

Part 1

“I never got your names, by the way,” (Y/N) brought up. “Well, I know you’re Prompto. Ig’s mentioned you’re a big fan of ‘King’s Knight.’”

The blond chuckled uneasily.

“And you…” She slowly walked up to the brawny man, analyzing his physique. “Foreboding presence, giant muscles, steel trap glare… You’re an Amicitia… Gladiolus, right?”

“Lucky guess,” the burly man replied in amusement with a cocked eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Just Gladio’s fine. So what’s the plan, fun size?” “Fun size?” She quickly whipped her head up at the tall, muscular man, slightly offended. “Don’t mind him. He’s like that with everyone who’s shorter than him,” Prompto coaxed. “Which is pretty much everybody…” he meekly finished. “Meh, whatever,” she spoke with disregard. “Come along, Tiny.” “Tiny?!”

Now it was Gladio’s turn to feel insulted as Prompto tried to stifle his laughter by biting his knuckle.

(Y/N) ignored the Shield’s reaction and walked back into the entranceway leading to the ballroom. Prompto quietly followed her after he calmed down, with Gladio bringing up the rear. Leaning to the side just out of sight, she surveyed the crowd’s attention on Noct and quickly devised a strategy upon locating the exit.

“We go in, hang out for a bit to listen to the speech and slip out one by one,” she instructed with a whisper. “A timed interval of three to four minutes would be best. We’d attract too much attention otherwise.”

“You sounded exactly like Iggy just now,” Gladio observed. “We used to spend a lot of time together,” (Y/N) spoke softly and flashed a grin. “Let’s go.” She turned her head back at them and made solid eye contact.

“Remember: three to four minute waiting period. Got it memorized?” “Yes ma’am,” the tattooed man mockingly saluted, only to be received with an eye roll.

The three strolled in as Noct was a third through his speech, thanking patrons and esteemed guests for coming. They leaned on a wall at the far end of the room, gingerly inching themselves closer to the desired doorway. Prompto took his camera out of his pocket and snapped a few shots of his best friend on stage. He then turned to (Y/N) and Gladio to snap a shot.

After the first four minutes passed, (Y/N) casually walked out, stilling paying brief attention to Noct’s stiff delivery and was sure Ignis wrote it; the vocabulary and sentence structure gave it all away. Nearing the exit, she discreetly grabbed two bottles of wine as she passed by a table and hid them on the insides of her forearm. Using the dimly lit room to her advantage, (Y/N) slipped them into the hidden pockets of her dress before disappearing from sight.

“Damn, she’s good,” Gladio complimented under his breath with an impressed look. “Guess one of us gotta get glasses.”

“It’s not gonna be me!” Prompto quickly stated in a panicked whisper.

“Obviously.”

After waiting the strategized grace period, Prompto went next and tried to act casual by nervously waving at Noct from the distance.

“You idiot,” Gladio mumbled to himself and face palmed his slow shaking head.

As the blond boy got near the exit, he grabbed another handful of hors d'oeuvres before exiting the premises. The burly man gave it three minutes before he made his exit, gave Noct a nod and left the room. He thought it’d be best for Ignis to grab the hardware for the drinking vessels. Seeing the two at the end of the hallway, he quickened his pace to rejoin the party.

“This way,” (Y/N) tilted her head left and walked on ahead.

“Where’d you learn to grab something like that without people noticing?” Gladio enquired and caught up to her in two whole strides.

She turned her head back with a mischievous grin and said, “Family trade secret, m’dear.”

“So, (Y/N), how’d you know Ignis?”

“We were in the same gifted children’s program, so we’re childhood friends in a way,” she explained. “But then I dropped out.”

“How come?” Prompto asked. “Lotta kids would kill to be in there.”

“… Because it was boring,” she answered simply and shrugged her shoulders.

“Boring? Didn’t you guys do special training and stuff?”

“Yeah, but it became a chore after that… And the kids were super intense.”

“Couldn’t handle the competition?” Gladio teased.

“More like they couldn’t handle me,” she corrected. “Ig was the only one. Everyone else decided bullying me to cover up their jealousy was easier than improving themselves.”

Before the two Crownsguard asked any more questions, (Y/N) stopped in her steps and huffed a relaxed breath through a lop-sided grin.

“I’d say this is the perfect drinking spot, wouldn’t you say so?”

The party entered a fully furnished room that looked to be a study with plush armchairs and couches. The carpeted floor welcomed warmth compared to the dark, cold marble hallway.

“Whoa… Are we even supposed to be here?” Prompto blurted out and cautiously looked around; he felt like he was breaking in.

“Probably not, but I remember this room well,” (Y/N) replied. “I spent many hours in here with Ig studying while we had down time from adviser duty training. Well…” She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head and corrected herself. “He’d be studying; I’d be trying to get him to play games with me.”

Taking the bottles out of her dress pockets, she placed them on a nearby wooden table with a soft thud. And feeling the limit her feet could take on her heels, she promptly removed them and let out a relieved sigh as she wiggled her toes on the plush carpeted floor and heard the joints crack.

“Whoever invented these torture devices need to be stabbed with ‘em in the neck from behind,” she darkly remarked to herself, venomously glaring at her high heels.

“You think Ignis and Noct’ll be able to find us here?” Prompto asked.

“I’m calling them now,” Gladio responded, looking at his mobile.

“There’s no need to do so,” a familiar, irate voice interjected.

Ignis stood in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly unamused with (Y/N)’s antics. Noct was standing behind him.

“If you had time to swipe two bottles of wine, you could’ve at least stayed for the end of the speech,” he lectured while entering the study. “That would’ve drawn much less attention, especially for the Crownsguard.”

“Every plan has a flaw,” she half-heartedly defended with a relaxed grin. “It was a ‘go as you see fit’ strategy.”

The adviser tiredly sighed and pinched his nose bridge with closed eyes and knitted eyebrows.

“I already have to babysit one child tonight–” “Hey,” Noct blurted out. “No one’s asking you to babysit me, Ig. I take full responsibility for the screw up.” “That’s new,” Ignis let slip under his breath. “Don’t be rude.”

(Y/N) playfully shoved him by the shoulder.

“Look, I’m sorry we all missed the end,” she apologized. “But we heard two-thirds of it if that counts for something. Bit stiff, if you ask me.” “It had to be formal–” “Yeah, I get that,” she cut in. “But you could’ve livened it up a bit with a joke here or a pun there. You love your puns; they’re your thing.” “See, if you were adviser, you’d be able to do that,” Ignis argued. “But you’re not, so he’ll have to read my stiff speeches.”

“His sentencing is a burden I’ll have to take,” Noct joked from behind and walked over to flop down on the couch. Letting out a long sigh of relief, he removed his tie with one long tug and unfastened the top two buttons. Prompto sat beside him while Gladio stretched out on the opposite couch.

“So, anyone grab glasses?” (Y/N) asked. “Or are we just gonna drink out of the bottle?”

Ignis adjusted his spectacles and sighed heavily before speaking.

“Third cabinet on your right, top shelf,” he robotically dictated. “See? This is why you’re the best,” she replied with a grin and quickly ran to the aforementioned cabinet. “Hey, Tiny! I need your height.” “Tiny?” Noct asked in confusion while Prompto cracked up. “This isn’t gonna be a thing now, is it?” Gladio grunted out as he got off of the plush couch and walked over. “Dunno, it’s kinda growing on me,” (Y/N) teased.

The tall guard rolled his eyes and grabbed the necessary equipment and brought it back to the table. (Y/N) then filled everyone’s glasses and they all toasted to Noct’s birthday. Their conversations consisted mostly of ‘King’s Knight’ strategies, rare items and questions about (Y/N)’s job at Ultima Inc.. Ignis stayed quiet for the most part and observed her instead. It’d been a while since he’s seen her this lively with people. As the evening rolled on into the late hours, the questions changed to more personal ones.

“So why’d you turn down the adviser role?” Gladio suddenly asked. “Ah…” She fidgeted with the stem of her glass and looked down at her hands.  “S-Sorry,” Prompto apologized. “If it’s a private thing, we won’t dig.”

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath and set her glass down gently.

“It’s fine,” she reassured. “It’s public knowledge, after all. Short answer: He’s a giver, I’m a taker. Ig was born to be the adviser.” “And what ‘bout the long answer?” Gladio pressed on. “I’ve been curious ‘bout you since you figured out who I am just by looking at me.” “Curious or cautious?” she corrected with a hint of instigation. “Both.” She turned to Ignis and abruptly asked, “How much do you trust them?” “With my life.” “I see…”

She suddenly went quiet, as if weighing her options on something.

“(Y/N), don’t feel pressured to,” he soothed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine…” She looked up at them seriously. “Let me ask you: what do you know of the (Y/LN)s?” “Not much… If at all,” Noct sheepishly replied and rubbed the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “I’ve heard vague whispers of your family’s name here and there from people,” Gladio added. “But there’s no paper trail in any of the Lucian history books.”

“As expected of the royal family… To wipe the taint off like specks of dust into the wind…” she muttered with a sad smile. “To give you the abridged version, my family is…” She paused and corrected herself. “Were formerly the secret intelligence gathering sector of the Lucian government. Anything that happened inside and outside the Walls of Insomnia, from every law-abiding Joe Schmo to court officials reached the King’s or Queen’s ears through us. We were the royal’s connection to the rest of the world, heeding to their every beck and call. We were the negotiators of peace and the wagers of wars from the shadows.”

“Your family were basically spies and assassins,” Gladio calmly summarized. “Spies, yes. Assassins only when necessary.” “So what happened?” Prompto enquired.

“After the passing of Lucis Caelem the Warrior, our family’s influence dwindled. To adapt to the changing times, my parents wished for their children to become royal officials so we’d be able to ‘stay relevant’, as I put it,” she bitterly elaborated with air quotes from her fingers.

“My brothers and I took the examination for the gifted children’s school and I was the only one who got accepted. Then came the insurmountable pressure; every gifted child’s chip on the shoulder. Everyday I went to that school, bits of myself died little by little. Then the questions started in my head: why was I picked to become the puppet for my parents’ thirst for power? Why was this decided for me without my say in it? And then one day, I just… broke.”

(Y/N) brought her knees up to her chest and hugged it, trying to steady her emotions through her breaths. Ignis wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, hoping a panic attack wouldn’t rise up.

“You can stop here if you want…” Ignis comforted in a soft voice.

“No, I’m fine…” She swallowed hard and looked to her friend. “My therapist said I should talk if I feel comfortable enough to.” She then looked at the other three in the room. “But I’ll stop if it’s making you all feel weird.”

“I wanna hear the rest,” Gladio firmly stated. “Prince Noctis?” “You don’t have to be so formal with me,” he muttered and looked away bashfully. “… But I wanna hear the rest of it, too.” “Same!” Prompto agreed. “Seems like the vote is unanimous,” Ignis encouraged with a small smile. (Y/N) gently nodded and took a deep breath.

“After that, I stopped going to school, subsequently dropped out of the program and he officially became the prince’s adviser. I became a shut-in and started tinkering with computers and programming instead. Inanimate objects didn’t judge and gave no pressure or obligations.”

“Then what happened?” Noct asked.

“Ignis the Persistent happened.” She turned to her friend with an arched eyebrow and a smirk. “He came over to my house every damn day. My parents thought he was harboring a crush on me.”

Prompto let out a snicker while Noct had an amused smirk on his face. Gladio merely let out an impressed whistle and sipped his wine.

“Not bad, specs,” Gladio commented.

“I was checking up on her well-being,” Ignis sharply retorted and pushed his spectacles up. “I grew concerned when I heard she left.”

“And when my parents finally let you see me…” (Y/N) started again.

“You were huddled underneath blankets, completely emaciated looking in a room messier than Noct’s while you were hacking into something,” Ignis finished, looking slightly annoyed from the memory.

“Niflheim’s government database, I think,” she recalled. “For fun.” “For fun?!” Noct and Prompto exclaimed.

“Unfortunately, I forgot to set my IP to bounce through remote dummy servers and they tracked me down,” she meekly replied. “One of their high commanders showed up and tried recruiting me, given my family history and all…”

“And did you?” Gladio asked.

“I’ve done a lot of messed up things in my short life; treason wasn’t gonna be one of ‘em. I’m a Lucian for life,” she answered with a sense of pride. “After that trouble simmered down, this one,” (Y/N) gestured to Ignis. “Continued to come by everyday, trying to convince me to come back to school, no matter how many times I told him no, despite my reason.”

“So how’d he get you to come back out?” Prompto asked.

“’King’s Knight,’ actually… He downloaded it onto his phone and showed it to me when he came by one day. I started playing it with him and found a lot of things lacking about the game. So I hacked it.”

“That’s how specs got so good in such a short time,” Noct said to himself.

“You can’t hack ‘King’s Knight’!” the blond boy jeered. “That’s sacrilege to the game!”

“It could’ve been so much better at that time,” (Y/N) defended her actions. “I back-doored the app, read through the code and made my own upgrade patches to max out my 2-star ranked character’s damage,” she boasted. “Then I got reported and my account got banned, followed with a serious letter from the developers at Ultima.”

“Were they going to sue you?”

“It was a job interview, of all things. They wanted to pick my brain as to how I managed to do what I did. And I got hired on the spot.”

The three boys looked in awe and amusement after (Y/N) finished her story.

“To think you’d use technology to lure me out where traditional methods failed you.” “Just being resourceful,” Ignis coolly replied and adjusted his spectacles.

With the wine finished and everyone exhausted from the day’s event, everyone called it a night and went their separate ways. Seeing how late it was already, (Y/N) practically pleaded with Ignis to let her stay over at his place; he was too tired to argue with her at this point and reluctantly agreed.

“Sure you two aren’t together?” Gladio casually pointed out jokingly. “I assure you we’re not,” she briskly answered. “I’m just too lazy to go home tonight. So far away…”

She gathered her belongings, including a go-bag she stashed in one of the cabinets and said her good nights to everyone before following Ignis out to the car. He had to drop Noct off back at his own apartment first before heading home. With barely any traffic around Insomnia, they made it back to Ignis’ place in record time.

“I’ll take the couch,” Ignis tiredly said as he undid his tie and removed his shoes in the foyer. “You can take my bed.” “You’ve had a long day. Go sleep in your own bed,” (Y/N) insisted and removed her shoes. “I’m more comfortable on your couch anyway.”

As she entered, she dropped her bag on the floor in the living room, removed her gloves and started to unzip her dress.

“What are you doing?!” her friend exclaimed, quickly looking away and shielded his eyes from her nearly half naked form. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen a naked woman before.” “You’re really careless when you’re around me,” Ignis blurted out, still looking away from her. Unfortunately, he still managed to catch a glimpse of her half naked form from his peripheral and felt his pulse racing. “Oh please, you’d never do anything to me,” (Y/N) dismissed and continued to undress, revealing lacy undergarments underneath. It’s like she subconsciously knew that was one of his favorites.

As she hopped out of her clothes and made her way to the bathroom to shower, Ignis quickly grabbed her wrist and pinned her up against the nearest wall. He could smell the lingering scent of her favorite perfume on her pulse mixed in with the alcohol they’d drunk. Even in a dimly lit apartment, his green eyes were still as intense. She never realized how beautiful they were until now.

“And what if I were to?” he said in a low, deep voice. “We may have been friends for a long time, but I’m still a man, you know.” “If you were to do something,” she huskily challenged and leaned in closer, their lips centimeters from each other. “You would’ve already.” “And what if…” Ignis removed his glasses and threw it onto the nearby counter with a clatter. His forehead was now touching hers, staring deeply at her as his other hand found her wrist and firmly held it down. “I was still planning it out?” “Are you testing me, Mr. Scientia?” (Y/N) rose up to his bait, seeing how far he’d take this. “Just reminding you if I were anyone else you did this in front of, they would’ve taken full advantage of you by now.” “But that’s where you’re wrong: I wouldn’t do this in front of anyone else. You of all people should know I’m not that easy.”

Letting out a sharp breath through his nose, he leaned away and released his grip on her.

“Just go wash up. I’ll prepare some towels for you outside.”

(Y/N) remained silent and went her way. After hearing the bathroom door softly shut, Ignis firmly gripped the countertop and squeezed his eyes close.

“What am I doing?” he whispered to himself and realized his pants went a little tight.

#ignis scentia #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ffxv fanfic #ffxv fanfiction #gladiolus amicitia #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia x reader?

[uncle-ak]

What is Your Perspective?

What a time to live through… How many hundred years later?! I couldn't wrap my mind around what I saw. It was about 8pm in the evening, I was laying on the couch reading news articles, flipping between that and other articles about health and wellness. I stopped actively watching TV back in 2009 (story for another day) so reading articles to stay up to date on what’s going on in the US and around the world or reading a book is how I typically wine down during the weekdays after work especially since we have been in quarantine.

In the course of reading, I was also going between WhatsApp statuses and Instagram stories. I can’t recall where I clicked a link… First, a little background story about me related to the subject matter. I am naturally very observant, attention to details comes to me easily without trying. As such I would say I have a good visual memory. I tend to see and listen deeper; it just happens. From body language to the slightest change in pitch/tone during conversation. Because of this, I am very picky about what I watch and listen to. As such I resulted to staying updated via reading versus watching depending on the subject matter. For the same reason, I seldom watch movies about slavery, racism or anything along those lines but I sure have read a number of stories/articles, books and continue to read.

A friend visited back in April and during a conversation, she asked if I had seen the video of how Ahmaud Arbery (RIP) was murdered. I said nope thank you! I’ve read multiple articles on the story so I have an idea of how it happened. She suggested I watch it and I insisted nope thanks! My visual memory will replay it over and over. There is a part of me that can get a little too emotional even though I don’t typically wear my emotions on my sleeves. Reading Ahmaud’s story wasn’t easy to digest but I find words more palatable than images especially given the subject matter. Same with the story of Breonna Taylor (RIP), I read about it and she was murdered the day before my birthday… 

So back to clicking that link… Before being able to make sense of what was going on, I heard the words “I can’t breathe.” I immediately had a flashback of Eric Garner’s story (RIP) which I only read as well; I didn’t watch any video on purpose. My initial instinct was to exit that link but a part of me was curious, wondering and hoping that when the cop heard the words “I can’t breathe” he would get off of George Floyd or at the very least ease off the pressure. I was hopeful because my thought process was driven by the fact that I work in the healthcare system and when someone says “I can’t breathe,” everyone in the vicinity rushes in the direction of where that phrase was uttered and attends to the person. 

Initially, it didn’t occur to me that this cop was kneeling on his neck. I thought it was his shoulder or back. As he continued to say “I can’t breathe,’’ I slowly went from laying on the couch to sitting up. Then I realized the cop was kneeling on his neck, the cop had his hand in his pocket with an annoying smirk on his face while the other cop stood there like… (Let me save my words). Boy did that hurt to watch and it aches to recount it. I turned my phone away but the sound was still on. Then I couldn’t hear “I can’t breathe” anymore so I assumed the cop was off of him. That cop stayed on George Floyd even after he stopped uttering those words and wasn’t moving. For 8minutes and 46seconds... till the EMTs got there. Will it be right to assume that if the EMTs didn’t get there when they did, that cop would have been kneeling on his neck much longer? Oh, by the way, I know the cop’s name including the others, I just don’t feel like addressing them by their names because in my opinion, it isn’t worth it.

There goes my visual memory, it is actually more detailed than that but I’ll save myself the heartache. I exited the link and put my phone facedown. I sat still for a moment and tears trickled down my cheeks. I had a VERY restless night, the following day was emotionally rough and so was the rest of the week at work. As the week unfolded and more stories came out, there were moments I wished I didn’t watch that video because, for some unknown reason, it hit me differently. George Floyd presents with physical characteristics as my two younger brothers; height and obviously black! There’s no way to justify that the cop didn’t intend to kill him, but the ‘system’... Yes, I have read stories about black on black crimes being reported to be more than white on black crimes but there is more to what meets the eye with regards to reports about black on black crimes and it is no justification to brush off the killing of black people by while cops especially in the manner in which it happened in George Floyd’s case.

I wondered why in 2020; how many hundred years later, things like this are still happening. With all the evolution and civilization, I wonder how some people could still be mentally stuck in an era that viewed a certain group of people as a threat or a prey just because of their skin color. I was reminded of these books I’ve read; Defining Moments in Black History: Reading Between The Lines by Dick Gregory and Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. Then I’m reminded of Trayvon Martin (RIP) as I type Trevor Noah. I love hooded sweaters and each time I put on one, Trayvon Martin crosses my mind, and depending on where I am when I have it on, sometimes I would take off for fear of being stereotyped as a threat. 

About being a BLACK Woman; I am reminded of the book We are Going to Need More Wine by Gabrielle Union, this book opened my mind’s eye to deeper and more in-depth things being brushed off in regards to black women; double minority. Then boom! Oluwatoyin Salau (RIP) was raped, reported missing, and later found dead. A young vibrant activist at the frontline of the Black Lives Matter movement. It hurt to read that she was violated and disrespected by someone like whom she fought for.

While on the emotional healing journey, the Rayshard Brooks (RIP) incident happened. Not to forget the people found hanging being ruled as 'suicide'. I'm sure there’s a lot more going on with regard to the subject matter. To say I was emotionally ‘tayad’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Prior to this incident, I was still trying to understand the defund the police and police reform movement; the purpose, and what it entailed. Then out of curiosity, I wanted to know how long it takes to become a police officer. To put things into perspective, it takes more training time to become a barber than it takes to become a police officer (article). Even though the article isn’t as recent, has anything changed since then?!

So while my emotions have been going through this roller coaster in addition to dealing with COVID-19 as a healthcare employee; multiple deaths at work, the passing away of family friends, and family friends losing their loved ones, Sis needed mental rehabilitation. In the midst of all the chaos, I came across a video of an African Woman (apparently Cameroonian, where I am from) sharing her opinion about the unimportance of the Black Lives Matter Movement and how she wasn’t oppressed and bla bla bla. Listening to that 9minutes video initially made my blood boil, then I realized some of what she said either came from a place of lack of information and or misinformation. Then I was reminded of the Stuck in The Middle (Sitmpod) Couch Talk; The Relationship Between Africans and African Americans and Bridging The Divide. 

I would plead that my African people watch these because there seems to be a disconnect. I have read/heard comments along the lines of “it is an African-American only problem, it doesn’t concern us Africans.” Well oh well, news flash! It is a BLACK people problem which unfortunately boils down to our skin color. And if we Africans plan to have and raise kids in this country, we better wake up to the reality of what it is, educate ourselves and collectively change the narrative. I want to say how about we collectively come together and uplift the African continent, especially in this era of people tracing their heritage but that’s a conversation for another day.

During my moments of introspection following the George Floyd incident, I realized that even though I earlier wished I could unsee that video; I, however, felt that my journey to seeking knowledge and improving awareness out of the confines of a school curriculum which initially started when I was 13years old had brought me to this point. Something within me had been drastically awakened. I can’t put a finger on it but I know something is different including the desire to want to learn more and improve my society, knowledge, health, and wellness. I go between trying to stay updated, sieving through loads of information (on Instagram (IG); the only social media I’m on, and or news articles that I get notifications for) and wanting to be part of positive change. I have gone through incremental bursts of awakening, first in the Fall of 2009 when I transferred from a predominantly black community college to a four year predominantly white university, then grad school in the Fall of 2012 with the same demographic. My experience in both institutions is a story for another day… I must say grad school introduced me to a whole lot of things too fast too soon. 

At the beginning of 2013 (second semester in grad school), I read the book The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren and felt the desire to get more involved in the community. In February, while on a book club conference line, I expressed that desire and on that call was the founder of a community-based organization then known as A Friend to The Homeless today is known as Generosity Global. The Founder Rich Akwo has been a guest on the Sitmpod. My exposure while volunteering during the Selfless Saturdays from then and learning all that I learned and continue to learn among which was the importance of supporting small/local and BLACK owned businesses. Generosity Global also has a clothing line from which most of my T-shirts and sweaters are from; The All is Well/Thumbs Up clothing with positive uplifting messages to brighten my day and anyone I come across. Adding to my t-shirt and hooded sweater collecting is the SitmpodMech

 My journey to improving awareness in general and supporting BLACK owned businesses has widened thanks to the guests who have been on the Sitmpod. I do consume a number of the products and services from guests who have been on the podcast and if they provide a service/sell products that I personally do not use/need, I share via WhatsApp or IG. I must say I have learned at least one thing from ALL the guests thus far and some messages have been reiterated via different experiences and perspectives. 

From all that has unfolded thus far, I have learned a whole lot. I never knew about Juneteenth and Black Wall Street prior to now. I wasn’t aware of the laws that govern police officers and how one could pretty much blink their eyes or snap their fingers and the training to becoming an officer will be completed. It has been all that and more and the journey to learning doesn’t end here for me. It actually just intensified… 

During a recent Stuck in The Middle Couch Talk, Taalib Saber concluded with a powerful message. Watch video. 

On that note, I’ll leave you with this quote; “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery.”~ What do you understand by this quote? What have you learned from all that has been happening? What is your perspective? How do you plan to channel your acquired knowledge, experience and energy? Share your story, it will be empowering to someone else.

[princesses-and-pioneers]

Santicorn 2019: Tarot Dungeon

The OSR Discord is conducting its second annual Secret Santicorn, a Secret Santa event but with OSR creators and content requests. I’ve received a lovely dungeon, the Temple of Lethe, from SherlockHole at The Mimic’s Nest. In turn, my gift to AuraTwilight of Paimon’s Silver City is a dungeon based on tarot arcana.

To Aura: Sorry I couldn’t do the greaser! I’ll write some magical girl stuff to make up for it. Also sorry it’s so late, I got stuck a bunch of times so this is more a collection of ideas than a cohesive dungeon. Hope you enjoy it, and Happy Holidays!

The Hand of Fate

An ambitious scholar made it their life’s work to understand the secrets of fate, how to predict it, and how to change it. After years of collecting knowledge, they built a wondrous palace in the mountains and invited visitors from far and wide, both seeking new secrets to add to their research and offering their divination services for a fee. The palace is interwoven with their fate-altering magic, said to look different to each visitor. Now the scholar has vanished, but their palace still stands, home to invaluable knowledge and valuable treasure alike.

An idea for the dungeon entrance:

Bridge A pair of stone columns sit 10’ apart at the edge of a canyon, forming a doorway to a sheer drop. Between the columns lies a large bindle containing a statue of a small white dog, with a piece of paper attached reading “Seekers of truth, pay your toll, and let the light be your guide”. When fed money, the dog comes to life and glows like a soft flame (3 hours on 1 gp), shedding light that materializes ethereal things within 10’. The dog is friendly and will follow basic commands.

An ethereal stone bridge spans the canyon between the two columns, ending at an ornate wooden door painted with a white rose. The rest of the palace becomes visible when the door is opened-- a grand, lofty structure of stone columns.

(Buxian Bridge, Huangshan, China.)

A room idea for each major arcana card. Rooms can be rolled for randomly, either on a set map or in a nebulous, shifting space like the Gardens of Ynn.

Room Contents (d22)

Chasm. A bottomless pit bisects the room, too far to jump.

Workshop. A table inlaid with a magic circle. 4 paints sit next to it, each labeled with an element (fire, air, water, earth). Shapes drawn in the circle will transform into objects made from the chosen element.

Veil. A thin veil hangs between a white pillar and a black pillar, completely dividing the room. Both pillars are made of a chalky pigment that rubs off easily; the veil is intangible to anything marked with white pigment, and solid as stone to anything marked with black pigment.

Garden. Beautiful trees, crops, and running water. The garden has a calming, nurturing atmosphere, and here living creatures heal 1 HP per turn.

Throne Room. A grand room with a regal, gilded throne. While sitting on the throne, any command you give to another creature must be followed, but you must make a Wisdom save to stand up, with a -1 penalty for every command you have given.

A locked cabinet containing a golden staff and 56 keys, each assigned to a specific fateworker (4 models, 14 units each). The wielder of the staff sees through the eyes of every fateworker whose key is attached to the staff.

Fruit Tree. 2d6 delicious-looking fruits. Eating one gives you a random unusual sense, and encounters in the dungeon have +1 morale when fighting you specifically.

Palanquin. The size of a wagon, with solid walls and locking doors. The person in the driver’s seat can mentally direct the palanquin to hover 5’ in the air and move as fast as a horse. The driver takes 1d6 damage per turn from the strain.

Statue. A woman holding both hands out in a pacifying gesture. Any creature within 10’ of the statue must Save to do anything aggressive or violent.

Wasteland. A vast room shrouded in magical darkness. Takes 2 turns to cross.

Wheel of Reversal. A raised stone wheel with two pedestals on opposite ends, turned by a crank on the wall. When turned 180 degrees, anything on the two pedestals will have their most opposite properties exchanged. Ex: dagger and torch switch material, fighter and wizard switch classes, identical twins switch personality.

Scales. Each hanging pan is large enough to hold a person comfortably. Weighs contents depending on how moral they are.

Gallows. If you hang from them upside-down (the way that kills you slower) for a turn, you can ask the GM one question about the dungeon or something in it.

Graveyard. Several coffins containing a variety of perfectly preserved humanoid bodies. In the center sits a suit of black plate armor with the word “Rebirth” carved on the skull-shaped helmet. Anyone who puts on the armor drops dead, and their soul reawakens in a random one of the bodies.

Canal. A wide raft floats slowly down the deep channel. High ledges on either side are piled with treasures, but standing close enough to reach them will tip the raft and cause it to start flooding.

Altar. A sacrificial fire burns atop it, magically compelling anyone who sees it to throw themself in. Shadow copies of anyone who has touched the fire appear to drag others in.

Tower. Several stories tall, with a good view of several other rooms in the dungeon. Thunderclouds hover over it, and once per turn a lightning bolt strikes a random spot on the tower (4d6 damage, Save for half).

Reflecting Pool. The room is dark, but the pool reflects the light of 2d6 small stars and one large one. The stars are embedded in the ceiling; small stars are precious gemstones and the large star sheds light like a lantern and boosts nearby magic.

A stone well, with a dim, foreboding light suspended above it. Anyone who focuses on the light for more than a few seconds must Save vs. fear or fall into a deep sleep. Nightmares of sleeping creatures emerge from the well every round.

Sunflowers. A dense field of flowers, taller than a person. The heads face upward, allowing a careful person to walk across them. The flowers radiate uplifting energy, and eating one can heal a minor injury or curse.

Crypts. Rows of coffins in alcoves along the wall; a trumpet rests on a central one. When you blow it, the nearest body rises as an undead under your command. After the first use each day, you must Save or the undead will be hostile towards you.

Dungeon Map. A large spread of purple cloth with the dungeon layout traced by glowing lines. Two wands sit next to it; one draws on the map and the other erases. Any changes to the map manifest in the dungeon.

A dungeon denizen, based on the minor arcana. Fateworkers are the palace staff, meant to perform maintenance and serve visitors while the scholar is busy perfecting their research.

Fateworker 1 HD (5 HP), unarmored, move normal, morale 8, punch 1d4 OR attack varies by model Human-sized clockwork automaton. Wheels for feet, white sash with logo indicating model type. Tinny, synthesized female voice. Wants to assist guests and eliminate disruptions in the dungeon. Logical and calculating, but somewhat gullible.

W-model: red flame logo, carries wand, 1/day spells: firebolt, light, minor illusion P-model: gold coin logo, carries toolkit, can repair broken object or fateworker in 1 turn C-model: blue goblet logo, carries pump and internal tank that holds 1 gallon of liquid S-model: silver sword logo, armor as leather, carries longsword (1d8) and shield

(A cross between Light Hope from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power and IG-11 from The Mandalorian. These shows are both very good.)

Bonus: Tarot Encounters

These probably don’t fit with the dungeon rooms above, but I also statted up a few creatures based on the tarot-inspired JoJo stands because that seemed like the kind of thing to do. Disclaimer: I knew nothing about JoJo before starting and know nothing about JoJo now, all information used to make these statblocks comes from the wiki.

Sand Guardian 2 HD (10 HP), unarmored, move 1.5x normal, morale 12, bite 1d8 Sand animated in the form of a quadruped wolf-like creature, with a feathered, beaked mask. Growls like blowing wind. Wants to be left alone and to protect its mask. Wolf intelligence and instincts.

Living sand: Regains 1d6 HP each round as long as there is sand or dirt nearby to patch its wounds. Mask bound: Dissipates into sand if its mask is removed. The mask can be used once per day to form a new sand guardian from a sufficient quantity of earth.

Scarlet Inferno 4 HD (20 HP), unarmored, move normal, morale 12, punch 1d6/punch 1d6 OR fire blast 2d6, 10’ radius, Save for half A muscular humanoid, barely visible like a heat shimmer. Roars like crackling fire. Wants to burn things. Near-human intelligence, but single-minded.

Pure heat: Invisible unless someone spends an action looking for it. Attacking it with things that would put out a fire, like water or smothering foam, turn it visible.

Sludge Shifter 0 HD (2 HP), unarmored, move normal, morale 6, bite 1d4 A fist-sized blob of gray goop with limbs and teeth. Cackles like a high-pitched garbage disposal. Intelligence of a malicious child.

Conglomerate: Can merge with others into harmless gray sludge piles. Mimicry: The pile can return an exact duplicate of any inanimate object submerged in it. The duplicate is actually one or more sludge shifters, waiting for the right moment to transform and bite someone.

Parasite Queen 0 HD (1 HP), unarmored, move none, morale 10, punch 1d2 A brown wart that grows into an ugly brown growth with a face and arms. Screams in an angry gurgle only the host can hear. Wants to find a new host and ruin the current one’s life in the process. Cunning but bastard intelligence.

Symbiosis: Forms where a spore infects a creature’s open wound and grows to full size over a week, reducing the host’s max HP by 1. After another week, buds off into dozens of tiny spores to infect new hosts.

Royal Revolver A sentient magic revolver with +1 to attack and damage. Wants to do impressive tricks and be recognized.

Trick shot: Once per day, its bullets can deflect off of or around objects.

Web Emerald 1 HD (5 HP), unarmored, move normal, morale 8, constrict 1d6, any adjacent targets, OR acid spray 2d6, Save for half A network of interwoven green veins formed into a humanoid mass. Whispers like sizzling acid. Wants to grow and discover new things (by pulling them apart). Predator intelligence, but plant-like.

Unravel: Can unravel itself to about 100’ of rope-like vein, or unravel further into thin strings. No movement speed and can’t spray acid when fully in these forms. Web sense: Can sense anything that touches it, in any form.

#santicorn #dungeon #monsters