anonymous asked:

Hi, can you please do prompt number 25 and 27 with Edmund Pevensie?

Originally posted by writingissatansworstnightmare

#25. “I thought you were dead.” / #27. “I love you, you asshole.”

You were the first one to see Edmund. He was trudging towards the Narnian camp, exhausted and filthy but alive. You stood slowly, waving off the centaur who was tending to a gash across your bicep before sprinting towards the boy. He smiled wearily as you neared him, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you awkwardly, stumbling back to keep both of you from tumbling to the ground.

I thought you were dead,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision as you held him. “When we couldn’t find you after the battle…”

Edmund chuckled, his voice husky with exhaustion, “I had someone to come back to,” he joked.

You pressed your lips together, pulling away to punch his arm. He yelped, rubbing the spot where you had hit him. “What was that for?”

Almost immediately, you were enveloping him in your arms again, “Never scare me like that ever again. I love you, you asshole.”

“I love you too, [f/n].”

Prompts List

good morning

- Last night as I was lumbering my way into my bedroom, I smashed the tip of my kneecap into the door frame with such force that it dislodged the molding slightly, and it hurt so intensely that it sucked the air out of my lungs and I briefly thought I was going to pass out. It’s an honest to god miracle that someone this maladept at operating his own limbs has made it to almost 30. Just incredible. I had to hammer the molding back in at almost 1am for fear of forgetting about it and blearily snagging a nail-sized gash out of my flesh on it in the morning. edit: this is not the first time I have done this. 

- I thought I’d wake up this morning to an elaborate bruise blooming over the full surface of my knee, but there isn’t so much as a scratch. Why am I then otherwise covered in bruises elsewhere from injuries I have no recollection of inflicting upon myself, why is the meat tomb so enigmatic, free me

- I love my internet provider unironically but they’ve now taken to calling me and leaving me voicemails at 9:30am on a Wednesday trying to get me to sign up for bundled shit I don’t want, on top of the 36 mailers I get about it per-week. Listen, Marjory. If I wanted to spend $200/mo to add some shitty cable package to my internet package, I would call you. I would call you, because I’m an adult who understands the exchange of goods and services, please adjust your pricing to reflect shifting cultural behaviors in the consumption of media and leave me the f u c k  a l o n e 

- My favorite example of Outsourced Caring™ is the small thrill upon seeing a Live Chat button on a website for a service you’re having a problem with, only to find that there’s just a robot sitting on the other side of it spitting out limited irrelevant nonsense no matter how carefully you phrase your questions. Do I seriously have to sign up for Twitter just to scream at companies who purposely obfuscate their convoluted support systems

Metal on my tongue
From the gash on my lip
The punch you aimed
For my perfect teeth
My split lip curls up at you
A single eyebrow rises up
To call your bluff
“Is that the best you got?”

I can feel your anger
Mixing with regret and
This is your fault
The reason I’m this way

Your hands are a noose
Finding their way around my neck
Tighter, tighter, tighter
Pushing me against the wall
Harder, harder, harder
I feel your chest on mine
I’m nearly your height
Pelvis to pelvis
Chin to chin
You give a dark monologue
And I’m starting to see stars
My vision twinkles
The more you grip onto me,
The better it feels
I let a moan slip
To tell you what you do to me

Your face shifts
Expression changing
Color brightening
A thousand hues of red paint your cheeks
This isn’t what you signed up for
Isn’t what you ever thought you wanted
I feel the blackness creeping in
And somehow you know
Because the hold on my neck fades
Bruises beginning to sprout
Your body pulls away from mine
Through clouded vision
I watch you pace
My legs betray me
And I fall to the floor
Eyes half closed
Vision slipping
Oxygen returns slowly
Too slow
You notice
The last thing I see is you walking towards me

—  Fucked Up Part I

please watch this truly iconic scene it’s only 25 seconds long

so in Zatch Bell/Gash Bell, the whole plot is 100 demon children fighting each other for the title of the next Demon king and it’s like

ok demon children- that’s pretty cute! there are even a few animal ones too!

then it’s like

uh ok- well i guess that you can count teenagers as “children” right?

ok now

ok that is definitely not a child

come on now! that one’s smoking!