break free from the chain

Mutsuki, Gratuity, and Violence

Mutsuki’s behavior is shocking to say the least. There’s been a lot of speculation made of exactly why his character made the turn it did from introduction to this point. I’m going to attempt to give my own personal interpretation, on putting together an arc for Mutsuki, and what point Ishida intends thematically by bringing out Mutsuki’s violent side the way he did. Note, this meta is almost entirely about violence, so besides spare mentions of torso the sexual aspect of Mutsuki’s character are not going to be explored. I’ll do that in a later post.

 Read more under the cut:

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Last Promise.

Prompt: A Theo imagine where the reader is his gf and she dies in his arms like Allison did in Scott’s. She’s a banshee. – @rochyu

Author’s Note: This prompt originally had more to it, but after talking with @rochyu, she said it was fine if I changed it up a bit since she had already requested it with someone else and they got it written first.

Hope you like what I came up with!

Warning: Death.

Master List.

Last Promise.

(Y/N)’s heart started racing as a sudden massive wave of anxiety washed over her. She hated this. She hated being a banshee. She’d only been one for a few months, but she knew she hated it. She hated getting the feeling that someone was going to die. It didn’t help that Beacon Hills didn’t exactly have a high survival rate thanks to being a literal beacon for supernatural creatures and all. She didn’t understand how Lydia did it.

Lydia’s tried to help her manage it and push some feelings back, but (Y/N) doesn’t think this is something she’ll ever get used to. Don’t get her wrong, there are some instances where she gets the feeling that someone is going to die, and she’s actually able to help save someone. That was one of the most rewarding feelings, being able to save someone. But most of the time, the feeling is excruciating and heart-wrenching.

She stopped in her tracks in the courtyard of the school. Busy students rushed around her as they escaped the confined hallways and raced toward the long, holiday weekend. (Y/N) barely noticed them though as she zoned out. She could feel it. She could feel that someone close to her was going to die soon. It sent her into a panic. Her breathing got labored. Her palms got sweaty, and her vision started to get blurry. She could feel her legs starting to shake as she tried to maintain her balance. She was having a full-blown panic attack.

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Catalyst : Unbroken // Yoongi

Hunter!Yoongi x Angel!Reader. 2.8k words. Mild angst.

Series collaboration with @lovelyoongis and @optosomnio

Description. Hoseok || Yoongi || Taehyung || Jimin || Seokjin || Jungkook

In a world where demons and angels are hunted for the price of their wings by humans, will there ever be a chance for a hopeless love ─precisely between the hunter and the hunted?


They ─the believers call you. There’s hilarity in the sickening irony of the noun; a twist of syllables on tongue that drips with a sense of unrestricted conviction. They worship what they grow up knowing are virtuous and they curse the demons, shuddering at the mere thought. Defiled creatures, they hiss spitefully as if the words alone are toxic in their mouth.

Naivety runs along the line of blind loyalty and apparent scorn.

Don’t they know that the worst kind of evil is the one they can’t see?

For those who see beyond the pale of faultless masks masqueraded by the angels, they are the ones that truly transcend the limit of human capabilities. Loaded on guns, sheathed daggers strapped on legs, they are set for the hunt. Values are discarded for the high of the chase, poaching for the intricacies of angels’ wings. They call themselves ─hunters.

Min Yoongi, he’s one of them; an angel hunter.

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It takes guts to be weird.
It’s when you finally accepted
who you are
The real you!
No pretension, no reservation.
Just you,
Doing what you really want,
Not thinking what others think.
It’s when you finally break free,
Free from the chains that bind you.
Unfold your wings,
‘Cause you are meant to fly.

Oneshot #36 :) We got this

“So you and Albus aren’t dating?” Scorpius asked for the hundredth time.

Delphi rolled her eyes, giving a death glare. “How many times do I have to say no before it clicks?” She flicked his head.

Scorpius didn’t have an expiration date. “I just figure with each new day, you and Albus can become official.” He looked away.

“Albus and I aren’t anything. Stop asking the same repetitive question.” She wanted to Obliviate his memories.

“I am sorry. I care about this one thing.” Scorpius kept antagonizing her.

She had her hands on her hips with head down, shaking her head. “And every time you will hear the same answer.” Delphi once again told him as if once wasn’t enough.

Scorpius decided to drop the topic. “I won’t do it again.” He reassured her.

“What’s it to you anyway?” She showed an interest in his excuses.

“I am just trying to see who will get a girlfriend first. That’s all.” Scorpius hoped she would fall for it.

Delphi wasn’t buying it. “Are you sure that’s the reason? You didn’t sound convinced yourself.” She paid attention to everything.

Scorpius gave her a thumbs up. “Yes I am sure.” He responded, with a smile to trick her.

“You are lying.” She called him out on his BS.

“Maybe but you wouldn’t know.” Scorpius challenged Delphi.

Delphi had to break him somehow. “So that time Albus and I were talking and you looked jealous was just a coincidence, huh?” She reminded him about what happened.

“We will go with that. Yes.” Scorpius agreed.

She looked at him in the eyes. “If you say so.” A part of her wasn’t in the mood to go back and forth.

Delphi wrote an owl to Albus. She had to do what needed to be done.

The owl arrived to the Potter’s house. Albus received it.

“A letter from Delphi? Oh this cannot be good.” He opened it.

“Albus, I am holding Scorpius hostage. If you want to see him again, you must come to the forbidden forest. If you come late, he will cease to exist.”

With much respect,


Fearing the worst, Albus immediately left his house tracking them down on the madauder’s map.

He traced the exact location meeting Delphi and Scorpius.

“Why do you want to kill Scorpius?” Albus was shook. Right now their ban did not matter.

Delphi faced Albus, making eye contact. “You are here. Splendid.” She tapped her fingers together.

Albus looked at Scorpius, terrified. He was at the brink of losing his best friend.

“What is going on? Can you please let him go?” Albus begged her.

She laughed. “There are conditions that need to be met and if failed, Scorpius is history.” Delphi played fire with fire.

Albus wanted to cry. “Which conditions? I’ll do them.” He offered.

“Scorpius has to comply. It’s not a one way street.” She warned.

Scorpius was chained to a tree branch. “I’ll do it too.” He volunteered.

“Brilliant. We are off to a great start.” She looked at Scorpius followed by Albus.

Albus wanted to move along. “What do I have to do?” He shrugged, arms crossed.

“Ask me to be your girlfriend.” That was the first task.

Albus’s eyes went wide. “I am sorry. What?” He was lost.

“You heard me.” She waited for Albus to do as she said.

Albus gulped. “Delphi, will you be my girlfriend?” He wanted the nightmare to end.

“Why of course. Why wouldn’t I?” She giggled.

Scorpius wasn’t keen on the idea. “How about no?” He tried to break free from the chains.

“We are official. Scorpius will stop asking me if you and I are dating.” The end meant now.

Albus replayed those words in his head. “Is this a ploy you are doing?” He asked, unhappily.

She nodded. “Wait for it.”

“Wait for what?” Albus hadn’t got a slightest clue.

“We can seal our relationship with a kiss.” Delphi pushed her limits.

Scorpius was getting angry by the seconds. “NOOOOO!!!!!” He shouted.

Albus wanted to puke. “We shouldn’t.”

“You don’t have a choice. Do it.” She persuaded him.

Just as Albus was leaning in to kiss her and vice versa, Scorpius broke from the chains and damaging the tree branch, pushing Delphi out of the way.

“You will not be his first kiss.” Scorpius pointed his wand at her. “I will.”

To prove his point, Scorpius grabbed Albus by the front of his shirt kissing him fully on the lips.

Scorpius pulled back. “He is mine.”

Delphi clapped. “Bravo, you’ve accomplished the conditions I wanted.”

Albus had yet to react to the kiss. He stood frozen like a statue.

“By kissing Albus?” Scorpius wasn’t sure what those conditions were exactly.

“I couldn’t watch the gayness without making it canon.” Delphi admitted.

Albus began speaking. “I had a dream I was kissed by the guy I like.”

Scorpius smiled. “You can kiss him if you’d like.”

Albus smiled back. “If you insist.” He pushed Scorpius against a tree, kissing him for real.

On the same tree, the initials S.M.+A.P. were written inside a heart.



Gifs not mine.


said: Hi, could I request a fic where the reader is Sherlock’s younger sister, like way younger (19 - 20s) and she gets into trouble on a case and Sherlock finds her just in time to help and both Mycroft finds out and goes protective big brother mode.

A/N: Sorry this took a long time to write. I’ve been busy and then the internet was down but thank you for being patient. xxx

“Help!” You screamed. A warm red trickle ran down your head from where you had been knocked unconscious earlier. Luckily, you had awoken without any severe head injury. Ropes bound your hands as you struggled to break free from the chains that tethered you to the chair. Sherlock had made you do exercises like this before in case this was to ever happen. It was likely as you were a Holmes sibling. Your big brothers were both sociopaths. One was the British Government whereas the other was a consulting detective. You also had a sister, who happened to be a psychopath locked up in Sherrinford. Sherlock had timed you on how quickly you could escape and assessed you on your methods of evacuation. You had narrowed your time down to a minute and forty five seconds. However, when it became a reality, you forgot all of your training. Although you tried your best to hide your emotions, you were more open about your feelings unlike your older siblings.



“No one is here to save you now, princess,” A man spoke up. You recognised the man instantly. He had a thick Welsh accent and had quite a slurred voice. He was the man you suspected was the murderer in the murder investigation. “You are the only one who can see me for who I am. Not even your clever brother. So unfortunately, your pretty little face has to disappear. Shame.”

“Well he’ll find out eventually,” You snapped. “Then you’ll be sorry. Especially if you harm me.”

The man cackled. “Goodbye, darling.” He pulled out a knife. Everything then seemed to go in slow motion. The proximity between the pair of you became smaller with each step he took. Blood and tears cascaded down your face. Then Sherlock came rushing in with what looked like the whole of Scotland Yard and he tackled him to the ground before the killer could slash at your throat. Then everything sped up. Someone had freed you, then Sherlock was beside you, and finally you were sat outside the building with a shock blanket around you. Sherlock was caring at first but you knew that eventually you would be yelled at.



“How could you be so careless?” Sherlock asked. He was pacing up and down the living room while you sat on the sofa.

“I knew it was him,” You replied. “I was trying to get information on him because you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“So it’s my fault now?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know…”

Just then, Mycroft stormed into the flat. “Y/N! What were you thinking?”

You put your head in your hands. “Leave me alone.”

“Sherlock you’re supposed to be looking after her!” Mycroft yelled at Sherlock.

“She ran off on her own!” Sherlock snapped. “And she is an adult. Although I am certainly not happy with her.”

“Y/N! Go to your room!” Mycroft yelled.

“My room?” You roared. “You are not my father and I am not a child.” You stormed out of the flat and went for a walk to calm you down. Sherlock and Mycroft gave each other a look.

“Leave her to cool off,” Sherlock told him. “We’ve done enough interfering.”


Cassandra Burke Dearborn – Bright!Future

I have learned to survive, to make choices, how to kill those who wronged me, but most of all I’ve learned to be happy.

Cassandra ran away on her wedding day and followed Caradoc into an uncertain future. They married two months after leaving with only a few close friends attending. Now, hidden and disowned by her family, Cassandra breaks free from her former chains by joining the Ministry as an Auror and whistleblower. Caradoc and Casandra have three children – two sons and a daughter. The oldest boy becomes Slytherin’s best Chaser and continues to play Quidditch professionally. Their adventurous and stubborn daughter joins Dumbledore’s Army and will be a Potioneer later on – one who is especially interested in the art of preserving Potions for as long as possible through magic. She also has a crush on Cedric Diggory, who is already four years older than her, but they share the same house. Their youngest son’s a Gryffindor and interested in becoming an Auror, just like his mother. His idol’s Amos, who teaches him all about magical creatures.

Ever since she left, Cassandra has been good friends with Amos, Alice, Charity and many more.

Cassandra gets killed in 2009 on one of her missions.

[ @caradxc-dearbxrn , @amxsdxggory , @charitysbvrbage , @xalice-clara ]

Kidnapped - Scott McCall

Not my gif.| *Requested, i decided to change it to Scott instead of Stiles because everyone is requesting Stiles. 

It happened all too fast. All you remember that you and Scott were just having your midnight walk as usual because you couldn’t fall asleep. All of the sudden everything went black.


You were slowly starting to wake up. Everything was blurry at first but seconds later your eyes got adjusted. You noticed that you were tied up in a chair.

“Y/N!” Scott’s voice.
“Scott!” You yelled as you noticed Scott chained up against a pole.
“Are you okay?” Scott asked.
“I’m fine” You stated.

Scott was weak and couldn’t break free from the chains to come and help. You tried to break free but you weren’t strong enough. Then suddenly footsteps were making their way behind you.

“(Y/N), stay calm” Scott stated. “What do you want from us!”
“To watch the both of you suffer” He stated as he placed his hands on your shoulders which made you tense up.
“Don’t touch her” Scott growled.
“You won’t mind Scotty boy” He smirked.

Scott couldn’t even help you, the guy must have drugged him. The guy then grabbed an object from a nearby table.

“Please no” you whimpered as you saw the knife in his hands.
“Hold still, princess” he pressed the knife against your arm.

You let out a scream as he started to slice your arm. Scott had closed his eyes to not see you in pain. Tears were coming out from the pain. Scott needed to help you and fast. He hated seeing you in pain.

“I said stop!” Scott yelled flashing his red alpha eyes.

Scott had enough strength to break free from the chains. He tackled the guy down as he went werewolf mode.

“Scott stop!” You yelled.

Scott quickly stopped from attacking the guy for torturing you. When Scott saw with tears in your eyes his face softened.

“Please get me out” You cried
Scott helped you break free from the chair. He then ripped a piece of clothing from his shirt to wrap it around your bleeding arm. Scott started to carry you out bridle style from the building.

You were weak and tired and had your arms around Scott’s neck. You can’t believe that this happened to the both of you.

“I love you” was the last thing you heard before falling asleep in Scott’s arms.


“I’m done being everyone’s prisoner!”

A watercolor that started out as vent art that became a piece I ended up trying out a new technique with.  Composition-wise, I wanted to include “breaking free” imagery from both the mirror as well as her self-made water chains within Malachite.  In coloring this piece I used a lightbox to trace paint over the pencil drawing underneath, thus the finished piece is very clean and has no trace of pencil lines.  I’m very happy with the end result!

I actually finished this at the end of last year, but just got around to scanning it today!  Either way it’s my first piece on here for the new year~

Janelle Powers ♦ 19 ♦ Socialite 

It’s rather fitting, it is, that her last name should adorn the one thing which she craves the most. Being under the watchful eye of the city of Austin for her entire life, Janelle has never had a moment to herself. Her father was the mayor of Austin for nearly a decade, and Janelle was bred up in the spotlight, one she found rather blinding. Upon his retirement, Janelle went a bit wild, finally able to break free from the social chains that had held her down for so long. But just because her father isn’t mayor any longer doesn’t quite mean Janelle has ever left the spotlight. Her wild escapades have been splashed across the papers and magazines and blogs since she let loose one night at a nightclub, exposing herself whilst she danced on top of a marble table in the VIP. She’s come to enjoy her scandalous reputation, taking advantage of the freedom it allows her.


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The Devil

A Gradence Short
Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves

Divination was, as a general whole, a complete load of bullshit in Graves’ mind. Fate was something contrived, scrying was unhelpful, and divination was in no way specific enough to be of much any help at all.

Tarot was especially shoddy work, in his experience. 

Oh, he had his deck. Most every witch or wizard did. He had his deck, gifted from his mother, wrapped in a velvet cloth and tucked neatly into a wooden box on his mantle. No-Majes used them for entertainment, he was told, for party tricks to titillate those who didn’t truly believe. You will meet with a tall handsome stranger. An abundance of good fortune is headed your way. Great changes are coming.

All manner of rubbish such as that.

Still. He couldn’t help but smile indulgently when Credence’s shaky, thin hands, free of fresh welts by means of magic, reached out to all the items on the mantle, brushing the box and collecting it into his hands. “And this?” He asked, holding out the box to Graves.

“Ah yes, that is my Tarot deck.”

“Tarot?” Credence’s fingers fiddled with the box. “What does it do?”

“On it’s own, nothing.” Graves reached over, cupping Credence’s hands briefly in his own before taking the box, guiding Credence to the kitchen table and sitting them both down on it. “It’s simply a deck of pretty cards on it’s own. But if you ask it a question, sometimes it answers.” That’s the explanation his Divination instructor had given him, the great cock. 

“Oh…” Credence looked at the deck warily as Graves placed it upon the surface of the table. “How does it work?”

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anonymous asked:

Weather the 'joke' was in good humour or not it's still un needed. I can only imagine being him. He's finally doing what he's always wanted. Breaking free from his chains. Having fun. He invited his family to the show only to have some idiot call him gay. Now all the Larrys have been given subsidence. I can only imagine Harry being like 🙄🙄. Even if he did smile. That's what I'd be like. Internally frustrated because I know what his comments have actually done even if the guy had no clue.

I heard he wasn’t even on the couch at the time. Who knows? It was inappropriate and unnecessary, but it’s done now. I guess we will find out later whether they air it or not. I’m done with the topic.



私 は 一人
孤独 な 死 だけ だ
たやすく 裏切ら れる
命懸ける程 の 情景 が 今眼 に 宿る ?

意味 の 無い躊躇い傷 と
十数年心 は 無人 ヘラヘラ

ぺちゃくちゃ 喋る ゴミ 共 が
鎖ーっ捥げ ない 飼い犬


まるで 別 の 住人 だ
同じ顔 し た 、 私 は 化物
愛さ れ た の は 孤独 だけ
We will not give up
形 の ある 自由 から Suicide

誰 も が 信じ て い た 答え が 正しい と は 限ら ない

雑音 の 世界君 は 何 が 欲しい ?
実感 し た 未来 に 聞い て ご覧 よ
胸 の 奥愛せ たら 少し は 楽 でしょ う
こんな 世界 も 視 ず に 笑い合え た


成功者 は
いつも 渦巻い てる ん だ 俺 の 周り で
もう 誰 の 声 も 聞き たく ない

もう たくさん だ 、 生きる意味 を 探し THE FINAL 腕 に 刻む の か ?
憧れ や 、 愛 や 自由全て 、 くだらない もの に 変わる



I am alone
A lonely death is all that’s left
I’m back stabbed easily
The view worth risking my life, is it now dwelling in the eyes?

The meaningless hesitation marks
And my soul that’s been empty for more than 10 years ha ha

Those scumbags talking bullshit
They’re like pet dogs, unable to break free from the chains


Almost like a complete stranger
I’m a monster with the same face
Loneliness was the only thing that was loved
We will not give up
From freedom with form suicide

The answer everyone believes may not necessarily be the correct one

The world of noise. What do you desire?
Just ask the future you came to realize

If I could love the bottom of my heart, it would then be somewhat comforting
We could’ve just smiled at each other without having to face this world

Come on

Those successful big shots
They’re always swarming around me
I don’t want to hear voices from anyone

I’ve had enough, should I try to find the purpose to live and carve THE FINAL on my arm?
Envy, love, freedom, they all turn into shit

phoenix gothic
  • There is a black widow spider in your garage. The crimson hourglass on her belly gleams as she lays a sac full of eggs. At least they are not in the house, you think hopefully. At least they are not in my bed.
  • You speed past the vast communities of the elderly and dying. It’s the smell you can’t stand, like cinnamon and rice milk.
  • Time for a parade. Black helicopters circle the cloudless sky. The sheriff rides an army tank down the street, waving his ten-gallon hat. When the ranchero music begins to blare, you run. You run and run and don’t look back, even when the screaming starts.
  • If they catch you they put you in Tent City. If you’re a man held in Tent City they make you wear pink underwear. If you are a woman held in Tent City you are made to piss in front of the male convicts. And if you fall ill with a fever or have a concussion or a seizure you will be buried under the caliche.
  • There are other things buried here too. You know the Westward Ho? It’s the beautiful town landmark that no one is allowed to see. It used to be a hotel and speakeasy, but They keep old folks there now. You can’t just visit the old folks that live there either. Oh my, no. You don’t want to do that. But sometimes you lie down on the concrete outside the Western Ho at noon and press your eye to the glass panels that decorate the sidewalk. The glass lets light in for whatever is beneath. If you look at just the right time you can see movement. It’s easy to miss. It’s gotten quite feeble, hasn’t it? Whatever it is, it has been waiting down there for decades.
  •  Every fall the snowbirds return to shit all over your neighborhood. The snowbirds always roost by November. They vote in your elections, pecking out their ultraconservative ballots with scaly talons. They are the ones who fund Tent City. They are the ones who admire the sheriff’s army tank and ten gallon hat. That’s not to say there aren’t similarly mummified hearts beating in the city year round, but it is the snowbirds that tip the scales heavier than a feather. You wish they would keep their money and their politics and their moldy half-pecked lizard corpses back in the Midwest. You wish Ammut would break free from his chains and rise from beneath the Western Ho to glut himself on their shriveled souls. After all, you fled here to this godforsaken desert to get away from them, and here they are following you. You burn incense and pray but the snowbirds descend and strip the flesh from your cheeks. As the blood trickles down your neck you realize you can never, ever get away from them.
  •  Does all this suffering imply you are innocent? You are pure? Why then, do you call your family every February when the polar vortex is at its peak? OH YEAH you brag feverishly, HOW’S THAT SNOW? You giggle uncontrollably, knowing you are a monster, knowing the winter has already taken many lives. You smile as your mother’s voice buzzes through the receiver, full of fear and grief. You are unable to stop grinning as the soft breeze ripples through the palm trees and kisses your forehead. The muscles of your face aches painfully and you swish the chunks of glass in your margarita, knowing you are damned, knowing summer is coming and you will reap thrice what you sow. YOU CAN’T SHOVEL SUNSHINE! You bellow into the void. Oh God you will reap.
  • “I’d rather be dead in California than alive in Arizona,” Lucille Bluth chortles on your tv. It’s funny because it’s true. You blow the caliche dust and palo verde pollen out of your maps. Trace the roads like arteries with your finger. You can take the 10 due west until you hit the ocean. You can keep driving. You go out to the car but it won’t start. The battery is dead from the heat.
  • In 1988, Hunter S. Thompson wrote: “If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix.” In 1988, the city’s population was about 2.2 million people. Now it is over 4 million. You know why he killed himself. He could see what was coming. But you, you are already here.

anonymous asked:

There was a fellowship called Thee Temple Ov Psychick Youth (TOPY), founded in 1981, that uses Dylan's same exact tri tier cross as their symbol. They call it Thee Psychick Cross. Idk much about TOPY, but apparently people that are attracted to it tend to feel rejected from society's conditioning of normalcy and wish to break free from its chains. It's just interesting how Dylan's cross can be found in so many places. So I'm wondering, have you discovered anything that uses Dylan's cross too?

The Evolution of The Everlasting Contrast Triple-Barred Cross (of Salem)

No, sorry to say, the TOPY Thee Psychick Cross is not like Dylan’s. In fact, it is the exact opposite of the everlasting-contrast triple barred cross as the bars are reversed.

Detail below of Dylan’s shift in focus from the Cross of Lorraine’s two bar design to the Cross of Salem with three bars.  The ‘Cut Here’ is the larger slash across the middle representing himself in ‘Me’.

Finally I can say this project is finished!! Though I’ve had the actual piece done for a few days now, i had planned on releasing the video of it along side it but some technical difficulties won’t let that happen for a while lol.
Nevertheless this is one of the first pieces I’ve ever made pertaining to an event like this, and going through the process has taught me how important it is to speak out with my own voice and talents, and to more of the in the future. Which is even more the reason Kesha’s story has spoken to me so strongly. No one should EVER have their creative freedoms taken away from them, and no woman should have to fear the decision of a judge in a case of sexual assault. As an artist, Keshas story is one of my greatest fears, the inability to creatively express yourself freely, and under the hands of a corporation that only values your expressive voice as money, all while having to work along side someone who has both physically and emotionally abused you is one of the scariest things i could ever imagine.

Which is why i made this.

A while back when this story first came out, i saw some pieces of support for Kesha, which were fantastic, but most i saw depicted her being held down and a scared victim. Though these depictions are completely accurate, i wanted to put something out there that was more positive, that shows her as the strong woman i know she can be out of this. That in the end of this story, i hope true justice is served, and she can break free from her chains.

People without OCD misunderstand it on so many levels. No it’s not a personality trait where you’re irked if things aren’t neat. And it’s not just anxiety either, not just chronic worrying or panic attacks.

OCD molds itself around the mind of whoever has it. It’s fine-tuned to whatever will strike at you most effectively. Sometimes it’s like water, taking the path of least resistance, and carrying you along so smoothly you don’t even realize you’ve been floating away until you’re stranded in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. Sometimes it’s a surprise precision-strike, taking advantage of a second’s vulnerability and leaves you immediately crumpled on the floor, fully aware of what happened, but powerless to do anything about it after the fact. There are days when it’s just a goddamn pest, buzzing about you head incessantly, and while it’s not making you particularly anxious you just aren’t in the mood for swatting it off–for fuck’s sake, is one day of peace too much to ask for?

Imagine your neighbor has a small yapping dog with the most obnoxious bark a dog can have and it yaps at you non-stop for decades at a time. Now imagine that sometimes it metamorphoses into a vicious wolf, able to break free from its chain to come after you. Sometimes it metamorphoses into a velociraptor–it can open doors, call for friends, outwit you, out-run you and devour you, and all the while convinces you that the pain is all your own doing. Imagine it’s all three at the same time. And it’s also living inside your head. Some days it is your head.

It learns. It adapts to your fears and worries based on your situation on any given day, in any given location. It can even turn in on itself, making you question whether you have it at all. It can take any piece of you and begin picking it apart in to little shreds of doubt, until all you have left of yourself at lunch with your friends, sitting in the chair at the dentist’s office, at  2 am alone in bed, is a pile of scraps quickly burning into ash, and you hope grow back in to a person by morning.

OCD is fucking terrifying–not just what it makes you think, but its very nature, the way it works–and your only weapon against it, at the end of the day, is to train yourself to ignore and endure the terror until it gives up and lets you go.


Prompt: Hydra discover that you are expecting a child with Bucky Barnes. In order to get revenge on Bucky for failing them, they give orders to kill you and the unborn child. 

Warning: None

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

With Child 

It has been three months since you discovered you are pregnant with Bucky’s child. Both of you agreed to raise the child together. Starting a family of your own. He will do anything to make this work because he loves you. Though he might not say it much, he does.  

You are in the Avengers Tower, the rest of the group have left you in charge while they go on missions and such. Now that you are pregnant it is too much of a risk for you to be going on dangerous missions that could harm you or the baby. Which you understand, but you are not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing, missing out on all the action. Plus it gets lonely when they are gone. It was mostly Bucky who wanted you to stay behind, he cares about the safety of you and your unborn child. He would not take that risk. 

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Hello lovelies, I’m back with a new edition! After a bit of chatting with my turtle dove @bleu-strawberriez we have came up with a heartbreaking idea for the finale.

I really hope you guys like it!

The flames burned at the walls of his mind, stripping him bare as he stood in the wreckage. It lapped at his skin much like the ocean would on a summers day, warm and calm. They lapped at his skin and tickled his fingers, almost playfully as the burned through his psyche. It almmost made Stanley smile despite the situation. He had always enjoyed watching the flames of a fire dance.


The two tone wail shook the room with its force and Stanley grimaced as he steadied himself, wtching the dream demon scrabble. Bill shifted, his form switching in way thatwere more horrifying than the last. Bill advanced on Stanley, his eye nrrowed with a fire that Stanley had only seen in the mirror once before. It was rage and fear, minged together in muddled pool that Stan himself had once swam in. It was deep and addicting, so much so that he almost hadn’t pulled himself out.

Their final moves happened simultaneously, their bodies colliding with a force that defied reality. As Stan’s fist collided with the demons weak, crumbling form Bill shredded through skin and organs as if they were tissue paper crumbling easily through his hand. Twi n gasps of pain and surprise left them- then suddenly it was just the two of them- staring at each other in a new light. It was strangely intimate for the enemies to be watching each other, understanding and empathy shining in slowly dimming eyes.

“You know, you always were the most stubborn out of the Pines’ clan.” Bill mutters, chuckling in am almost cryptic way.

It made Stanley smile despite himself. On some strange, outrageously odd level he understood Bill’s intentions and reasoning. He too had once felt the need to break free from the chains that held him down.

“You weren’t so easy yourself.” He replies through a coppery cough that hurt his chest.

Bill hums, pulling his hand from inside of the man and looking down, rolling his fingers around. The blood is warm in between his fingers and the iron scent wafts into his senses but for once in his life, he does not feel the maniacal joy. Instead he feels a sort of sadness flow through his crumbling form and he drags his eye back to the ashen face painted with a small, knowing smile.

“I’ll be back one day,” His tone is light and airy as he disintegrates into nothing but gold dust being pushed by an unknown wind. “Goodbye Stanley Pines.”

Tears prick at the corner of Stanley’s eyes and he says, for the last time,


And Bill’s eye closes. Stan is standing in the flames, alone for his own destruction, holding his stomach tightly. Turning around, he staggers to the small oak table and picks up the frame that he’d kept. His family was small, but it held the world’s love in its palms and for that Stanley smiled, hugging the frame to his chest as the flames curled around him.

“…Guess I was good for something after all.”

The change is instantaneous, the mountain town of Gravity Falls changing from a horrifying wasteland into the town that everyone remembered. And what was left of Stanley Pines sat on its knees, head bent up to the sky as if he were watching the world fix itself.

Consciousness returns to him slowly, and he blinks back what feel like new eyelids to look up at he sun with wonder. The world around him is new, undiscovered and he thinks that there might have been something before this, but he can’t for the life of him remember what it is. Moving his head is like shifting the tides, but eventually he does it so that he is staring at the wooded landscape before him. It’s beautiful.

“Grunkle Stan!”

He watches as two children and a man walk towards him, hazily muddling through his mind to figure out what a Grunkle is, but nothing shows up because nothing is there. He has no idea who he is, let alone a Grunkle. The girl runs up to him, placing a hat on his hands and patting his face. She seems to knmow him, but he cannot even dredge up a sliver of recognition for the small, beaming girl staring up at him and it sends a twinge of sadness through his heart as he pushes her away gently.

“Uh hey… Kiddo? What’s your name?” He asks her, moving his face into what he thinks is a reassuring smile.

But its desired affect is not achieved. Tears well in eyes as wide as the moon and a small bottom lip quivers as she clutches his face in his hands, looking into his eyes.

“ Grunkle Stan? Please. This isn’t funny.” Her voice is choked, crawling out of her lips like it physically hurt to say the words to him.

And pain is a new feeling. It felt like someone had gripped his heart in a vice, squeezing it between their palm while he gasped and trembled under the touch. The man gently pulls the girl away from him, standing before him. He explain that to save the world, they had to wipe his mind and he wonders who this Stanley is, he sounds like a hero.

“You saved me.”

The man drops to his knees, hitting the earth with cracking joints and a broken heart. He wraps his arms around the other, clutching the brother he’s lost to his chest as if he could make them one. His hand is gripping the back of Stanley’s head like a lifeline and tears make their way down his cheeks like twin rivers, cutting through grime and soot alike.

“I’m so sorry Stanley.” Stanford sobs, digging his fingers into the jacket Stanley is wearing as he clenches his eyes shut.

And he blinks, his face falling into a concerned frown. He’s never had to deal with sadness before and all he can do is pat the others back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

And Stanford breaks, deep painful sobs ripping their way from his throat like glass because Stanley would be as concerned as he always was. That hadn’t changed but the man Stanford had once knew was gone and all that was left was the shell. There was no Stanley anymore. Clutching his brother closer, Stanford freezes as Stanley lets out a low whimper. It’s pained and soft, and wrong, so Stanford pulls back, letting Stanley clutch his stomach much like a child would.


His voice cracks as Stanley pulls his arm away, watching the red stain his fingers with eyes that swirl with fear. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be, Stanley was supposed to be okay- how?

“What?” Stanley asks weakly, falling forward as his body gave out.

Stanford catches him, cradling Stan in his arms as the other states out at the sky. His eyes are fuzzy and dim, but he still manages a smile at Stanford, who sobs and presses Hi forehead against Stanley’s. He’s attempting to speak between the blood in his mouth and Stanford gently hushed him, a hiccuping sob ugly on his quivering lips.

“It’s okay,” Stan gurgles, shuddering as a cold sweeps over him.

The kids had long gone to find help, naive in the thought that their Grunkle would be safe. Stanford however, knows better as he kisses Stanley’s clammy forehead.

“You’re going to be okay.”

It’s Stanley who says this to Stanford, weakly lifting his hand to brush against this strangers cheek. He couldn’t explain how right and unfamiliar this felt, but he knew that it was where he was supposed to be.

“You’re going to be fine. I’m okay.” And his eyes drift towards the sky, looking up at the clouds in wonder and acceptance. “I don’t know why, but I feel good. I feel like maybe I was useful for once.”

Stanley Pines closes his eyes and takes one last breath before he slumps back into Stanford’s arms, peaceful and still. Stanford stops entirely, a whine building in his throat as tears stream down his features. It wasn’t fair, Stanley couldn’t be gone!

“Stanley? Come on Stan, wake up.”

He’s begging like a child he knows, but that’s exactly how he feels as he clutches his brother’s body to himself. He strokes silver hair as he begs Stan to come to him, he’s just gotten him back he can’t just leave they were supposed to go sailing around the world-

But Stan does not move.