#feels much?

[bubblegumxveil]

😭

The sudden urge to lose herself in the onslaught of emotionsoverwhelmed her as she pushed through the door leading into the musty oldclassroom housing the updated office for the Blue and Gold. Betty thought she’dmanaged to escape everyone’s notice before letting the silent sobs wrackthrough her entire body, but the soft squeak of hinges in need of some oilbetrayed the arrival of someone cautiously pushing open the very door she hadn’tthought to lock.Instinctively, Betty turned her back toward the door in an attempt to shieldherself as she feebly tried to wipe away the mess of tears staining hercheeks. “The office is closed right now.” Betty managed between hitched sobs asshe tried futilely to control her breathing, her emotions too far out of hercontrol and only frustrating and upsetting her further.Not hearing the satisfying click of the door closing behind someone leaving herto fall apart in peace, Betty stole a glance over her shoulder to see afamiliar beanie-clad face looming hesitantly in the doorway. Jughead was amongone of the last people she’d wanted to come across her in such a state, secondonly to Veronica or Archie. “Leave me alone Jughead, it’s really not a goodtime right now.” Her words were clipped and callous, uncharacteristic for theusually warm-natured blonde but it was a last ditch attempt to get him to leaveas she felt an entirely new wave of tears coming on.It hadn’t been any one particular thing that had finally made her crack, it wasa thousand tiny things that had been building up over time leaving Bettyhelpless against the necessary catharsis of letting herself cry out everythingshe’d been holding back from everyone else around her. It was the fightingbetween her parents keeping her lying awake in bed at night when they thoughtshe couldn’t hear, it was Betty feeling like she’d lost Archie as her bestfriend after that fateful night at the Blossom house of horrors that onlyfurther fueled deep-rooted insecurities about Veronica’s arrival to Riverdale. It was Jason Blossom’s murder and the entire investigation culminating in thewrongful arrest of FP Jones and the fact that Clifford Blossom had beenresponsible for the cold-blooded filicide all along in a mess of a drug traffickingring before taking his own life. It was the segregation in their town between the North and South Sidesthat only continued to divide with each passing day, civil mutiny threateningto break as violence continued to spike at the hands of both communities. BettyCooper had been carrying the weight of Riverdale’s fate on her shoulders sincethe night of her speech at the town’s jubilee in an attempt to rally and savethe town that she so loved but the burden had become too much for her to bear alone.It was the fact that the only person in the world she couldn’t stand to haveseeing her fall apart was there now wearing the same worn leather jacket markedby the Southside Serpents blatantly announcing not only the striking changesaround them in Riverdale but the shift in his own personal allegiances. “Go away.” It was all she could manage before turning from him as she faced the rain pelting against the windows, arms wrapping around her middle in a physical attempt to hold herself together until he finally left her alone.        @joneshead

[her28thyear-archive-blog]

// *loves on Emma*// "Emma, I'm here" Neal called into the house

//*Loves on back. Thanks for the love bae.//

youcamebackforme

She wanted to run into his arms,to bury her face into his shoulderbut that wasn't like her to do andshe wouldn't allow herself to anyway.

❝ Neal... ❞Welcome { h o m e }.

[hawkagentbarton]

Kidnap Meme

My character has been kidnapped because they are friends with yours. When found, they're still alive, but with a three word message carved into their skin for yours. What does the message say and what does your muse do about it?

Three days, three days it had taken for her to find him and she was furious with herself. The trail was obvious, way too sloppy to have been someone from her old life. This made her happy; it wouldn't be difficult to find them and torture them slowly for what they had done to her hawk. 

She was led to an apartment in a slummy part of New York, the topmost floor. It could have been nice, with some modicum of effort. A large bay window was bare, and the late evening sun spilled in casting the room in a hellish, red glow. That's where she found him, bound on a chair in the middle of the trashed apartment, shirtless. 

Without hesitation she was kneeling in front of him, working on getting the rope off him. "Clint --" Her eyes were drawn to his chest. The wounds were several days old, still angry and vicious. 'Я вижу тебя' in jagged, sloppy letters. Ice ran through her veins and she felt a thrill of panic. Her hands dropped the rope and she cupped Clint's cheeks, tears burning in them, cursing herself for her own stupidity. "Moy yestreb, I'm so sorry. I lo--" 

The bullet's impact was heralded by the shattering of glass; it drove into her temple, the force of impact making her body fall limply aside like a rag doll. A convulsion before she fell still, the blood pooling around her head like a devilish halo. 

She had been compromised; she had become attached, too attached to the archer and They exploited that. It was a mistake she could not make again. 

The world came into focus slowly, he groaned and really hoped that it was just a really bad hangover, but that wasn't the case, if the stinging on his chest and the ropes around his wrists were any indication. He was also just a bit chilly, though that wasn't anything new. Being kidnapped that was newer at the very least. The last thing he could remember was carrying Darcy out of a room, and then blackness. 

Slowly his eyes too focused and he groaned, he was tied to a chair, that was fucking swell, and bleeding, or had been, the stench of blood was thick in the air, which was even better. He squirmed a bit to try and loosen the ties, but his eye caught the black laying at his feet, the room was pretty dark so he hadn't seen it at first, but now, looking more closely, it looked like a person. 

"Hey!" he called but there was no reply, he moved his feet somehow they had managed to remain untied, okay then. He poked at the person, but again there was no response. He frowned, well this was turning out to be a good day. Not.

He started wriggling out of his bonds, they were tight, but he was pretty sure he could manage, Nat had taught him a few tricks, though as he worked, a light, probably from a passing car reflected into the room, it was just enough light that he could see the person lying at his feet. And the blood.

There was so much blood. Too much blood. 

And if Clint didn't know exactly what it looked like, if he hadn't spent hours with his face pressed into it, he would have thought that vibrant red hair had been dyes by it. But he knew better.

"N-Nat?" he asked, his voice weak, "Nat, come on! G-get me out of here, I-I know you can. Nat? NAT!"

His voice cracked on the last call of her name, it had to be a trick, it just had to, there was no way- nothing like this- it just couldn't happen. "Nat please!" he cried, yanking hard on his wrists, hard enough that they slipped out, but broke a thumb in the process. He didn't care. He was falling out of the chair and onto the ground, his legs weak from sitting for so long.

"Nat!" he cried, his hand moved up to her face, his hand shook as he touched her cheek and then he choked. Her eyes were open, the beautiful green dulled and between them, was a red hole.

"No, no, nonono!" he cried, lifting her face up he kissed her lips impulsively, thinking that just maybe, maybe this was just some sick practical joke, but they were cold, she'd been dead for hours.

He let out a wail and tears spilled down his cheeks, as he clutched her head to his chest, "NO! PLEASE! NAT!" he sobbed, her blood smearing over him, "WAKE UP PLEASE! PLEASE! YOU CAN'T- PLEASE!"

"You can't- you promised you weren't going to leave me! Nat!" he cried into her hair, it still smelled the same, even with the stench of iron and dust and mustiness in the air, she still smelled the same.

"Please...you promised," he choked, clutching her to his chest, rocking slowly as his tears fell into her hair. Wailing to the night, time passed, but he had not recollection of it. He only sat there with his dead partner, his dead lover, his dead sassy redheaded assassin cradled in his arms. He had no use for time.

He didn't even notice when S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, he fought when someone tried to pull him away from her. He screamed at them not to touch her, breaking a few other agents arms and a couple of ribs in the process. 

In the ended he had to be drugged and carried out, they took her body, and they took him back.

But it didn't matter, Clint knew that she was gone, knew there was no point, no one could console him, he didn't need their pity.

He knew this was the way of things, he was always going to be left behind, he was meant to be alone. He was a sniper, there was never meant to be more than one.

His chest healed, the words bringing new meaning once translated, and he could not help but think with bitter irony how true they were for him as well. 

Because he could see her, her face burned into his mind, and he did see her. 

For the rest of his life, her cold dead eyes and vibrant bloodied red hair, he would never forget.  

[suitsofarmor]

daddy, who is mommy?

     "She was a beautiful lady who died so you could live. And she would be so proud of you." 

[thebradburyc-archive]

Drabble of how Charlie is after Dean's death

At first it didn’t even seem real to her, Dean was indestructable. How could he have died? It was strange though, she didn’t cry all that much, she just felt numb. Of course, even if she wanted to talk to someone about it, she couldn’t. Sam had gone off somewhere, though she couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t imagine how he must have been feeling. All the time she spent with the brothers, she always wondered how and why Dean felt guilty for someone’s death, even if it wasn’t his fault. But now she knew, because she felt responsible for him dying. And it hurt. It hurt to know that maybe there was someway she could have stopped it from happening. But it was too late now, Dean was dead. Sam was gone. Charlie was alone. Just like before she’d met them. The brothers who’d changed her life.

[baskerville-heir-blog]

≈ //rolls into the sun

Will You Ever Love Yourself, Hammock

(instrumental piece)

[seemeinacr0wn]

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