chain tights


If he had to give a specific time, Stanford would have guessed it started the day after the apocalypse ended. It started off as a small voice at the back of his head, something that was easily ignored and brushed off. Over time, however, it developed. What had started as a stray thought caused by a nightmare slowly grew into something worse. Ford could still vividly remember what the nightmare had been about. It had been the first of many variations of the same dream: he had been standing out in the woods, watching as the sky above him was torn open and all sorts of unholy monstrosities came flooding out, their ringleader being none other than Bill himself. Once the demon had gained a physical form, Ford knew the world was doomed.

The demon had the horrifying ability to manipulate time, matter, the universe itself, something he had taken great pleasure in. Heck, he had disassembled each individual molecule in Ford’s body, shot them across the room and reassembled them in perfect order on the opposite side of the penthouse suite. The demon had repaired Ford to almost perfect health on several occasions, only to slowly beat him down again.

In the dream, it hadn’t been Ford being beaten to a pulp. No, it had been the kids. Bill had the twins chained up as he slashed them, hit them, burned them, drowned them, beat them, crushed them and suffocated them. Ford had been locked into place by tight chains, his head forcibly turned towards the kids at all times. Bill had made him watch as he tortured the children. Ford had screamed and screamed, constantly trying to sacrifice himself to save the children. He knew exactly what the dream meant: the kids were almost tortured and it was all Ford’s fault.

Ford still remembered the utter dread that shot through him when Bill suggested torturing the kids to get the information he wanted. Ford had been terrified, his cry of horror being cut short as Bill turned his body into solid gold. Dear God had Ford been relieved, when he’d been unfrozen, to see the children alive and almost unharmed. He remembered hugging them, and then hugging his old college partner Fiddleford. Ford felt a twinge of guilt as he realised he’d never hugged his brother Stanley. He had barely paid any attention to his brother during the apocalypse. He’d refused to thank Stanley for saving his life until the world depended on it. Even then, he’d had to point out the grammatical mistake in what his brother had said, which resulted in he and Stan having a fight. The whole plan to defeat Bill was ruined. Ford had made a mistake and the plan was thrown out the window.

Ford seemed to have made a lot of mistakes.

As time went on, Ford seemed to dwell more and more on all of the mistakes he’d made in the past. The most catastrophic one seemed to be building the portal. He’d endangered the universe with that thing, and yet he had still refused to listen to reason. Fiddleford had warned him time and time again about the dangers of such a machine, but Ford, blinded by his own selfish desires of fame and fortune, had ignored him. The guilt in the pit of his stomach swelled the more he thought about all of his transgressions.

Eventually, Ford stopped turning up in the kitchen whenever the rest of the Pines family were eating. For a while he’d forced himself to eat, even though he was only eating small portions. As he thought more and more about his past, he recounted all the times Stanley had paid for his mistakes, in a monetary sense or otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to eat the food Stan was providing, knowing it was just costing his brother more money. He was a grown adult - he had no excuse to live off his brother’s earnings. The children had an excuse - they’d been staying at the Shack for months and were too young to be employed. They’d helped out at Stanley’s gift shop, anyway, which had more than earned their keep. What had Ford done to earn his? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’d spent the majority of the time before Weirdmageddon in the basement, working and dismantling the portal. He’d done nothing but make his brother’s life more difficult. And then, to top it all off, Ford had the sheer audacity to tell Stanley to hit the road as soon as summer was over. He’d never apologised for that, and the guilt continued to eat him away.

As the guilt continued to press down on him, he’d been having nightmares more frequently. He’d barely slept in weeks - not since the kids had gone home. He’d barely seen his brother since then. For the first few days, he’d worked up the courage to get something to eat and sit down in the kitchen with Stan. Then he’d been reduced to getting food and, if he was alone, sitting down to eat or, if Stan was there, taking his food back to his room to eat by himself. He’d only been able to keep that up for two days, after which he’d only get food in the middle of the night, when he knew his brother was asleep. One night, Ford had accidentally tripped and dropped a plate, causing a loud crash. Stanley had been woken up and burst into the kitchen with a shotgun, pointing it at the man he thought was an intruder. The look of sheer irritation on Stan’s face after having been woken up was enough to stop Ford getting food even when Stanley was asleep. He couldn’t risk causing his brother to lose any more sleep.

By now, it had been a week since Ford had last eaten anything and the hunger was starting to become unbearable. It gnawed away at him constantly, making him feel nauseous and lightheaded. It prevented him from getting any sleep. Ford rolled over on the couch and checked his watch. 2:11 A.M. Surely Stanley couldn’t be awake at this hour of the night? It couldn’t hurt just to get a little something to eat, could it? Part of Ford’s mind told him to stay in bed, where he couldn’t make any noise to wake his brother up. His stomach growled furiously, demanding that Ford get out of bed and get something to eat. Despite the guilt still pressing down heavily on his shoulders, Ford swung his legs over the edge of the bed, put his glasses on and forced himself to his feet. The floorboards creaked underneath his weight and the man froze. He waited. Waited for any sign of movement upstairs, indicating his brother was awake. After a solid three minutes, Ford determined that the sound had gone unnoticed and he took a slow, gentle step towards his bedroom door. He was dressed in a red turtleneck and dark brown trousers - he didn’t have any sensible night clothes. As he got to the door, he slipped his boots back on.

Reaching out a hand for the doorknob, Ford paused, his hand outstretched in front of him. In the moonlight streaming in through the window, his six fingers were almost underneath a spotlight. He held his hand closer to his face and spread his fingers out. He counted them over and over again. He’d done this so many times throughout his childhood and adolescent years, always with the slightest hope that he had normal hands. Every time he counted, there were always six. There had always been six and there would always be six. Ford remembered that, as a young child, he had sometimes had dreams where his hands only had five fingers. In these dreams, he was not bullied at school. He was not pitied by the teachers. He was not given any sort of the special treatment that one might give to a child with a learning difficulty or a mental disability. He was treated just as a normal child. Those dreams had been wonderful. He finally fit in at school. He was popular, even. All of the kids who used to pick on him were suddenly his friends and he was happy. Those dreams always ended, however, and Ford was forced back to face the cold reality of his birth defect. He’d eventually come to realise and accept the fact that he was never going to be normal, no matter how hard he prayed.

Ford bit his lip and shook the thoughts from his head, reaching out and turning the doorknob. The door swung open with a creak, one Ford was sure his brother had heard. Again, he paused and waited for any indication that his brother had heard him. Nothing. The house was utterly silent. Releasing a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, he stepped forward into the hallway. Occasionally, a floorboard groaned quietly beneath his feet, but it wasn’t anything loud enough to warrant any concern. Soon, he turned a corner and entered the kitchen, nearly tripping up on a stray empty can of Pitt cola. Ford rolled his eyes. Even now, aged sixty-something, Stan still couldn’t be bothered to throw his rubbish in the bin. The man knelt down and picked the can up, gently placing it into the recycling bin by the door.

Ford tiptoed over to the fridge and pulled the door open. The bottles of milk, ketchup and soda rattled in the door loudly. He cringed and bit his lip. After a minute, when he’d heard nothing from upstairs, he quickly grabbed a slice of bread and the butter and closed the fridge. Getting a blunt knife out of the drawer and a plate from the cupboard, Ford set the bread down on the plate and started spreading it with butter. He cut the slice in half and pressed the two buttered halves together. He didn’t want to put anything between the halves of the slice - he didn’t want to use up too much of whatever food Stanley had left. Taking a bite of the bread, Ford only just then realised the extent of his hunger. Within a minute, the slice was gone and Ford was debating taking another. He shook his head and scolded himself.

You can’t waste any more, the voice in the back of his mind told him. He’s already given up so much for you. Don’t make him hate you even more.

With a quiet sigh, Ford put the butter back in the fridge and turned to put his plate in the dishwasher. His hand knocked against it and it was knocked from the counter. A loud crash echoed through the otherwise silent house and Ford swore. Damnit. He’d done it again. As he was bending down to pick up the pieces of broken plate, he heard someone else enter the kitchen. He froze in place, feeling the barrel of a gun being placed against his temple.

“Get up.” His brother barked.

Ford did as he was told, horror flooding his mind. His brother was having another memory lapse and seemed to have forgotten that he had a twin brother. This meant that there was a strong possibility Stan would shoot him if he made any wrong moves. Slowly getting to his feet and putting his hands up where Stanley could easily see them, he chewed his lip.

His brother cocked the gun. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Ford took a deep breath, his hands shaking. “Stanley, I’m your brother, Ford. Don’t… don’t you remember me?”

Stanley only narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have a brother. Stanley Pines died in a car crash thirty years ago. I’m Stanford.”

Ford flinched. Hearing his brother call himself by that name never got any easier. “No, y-you’re not. You’re Stanley. You took your brother’s name - my name - when I went missing. You’re Stanley. You faked your own death.”

Stanley scoffed and pressed the barrel of the gun against Ford’s chest. “Yeah, right. What sort of bullshit are you making up?”

“It’s not bullshit!” Ford exclaimed. He flinched and inhaled a sharp breath as Stanley pressed the gun harder against his chest.

“Yes it is.” Stan snapped. “Now, I want you to leave my property and never come back, otherwise I’m going to shoot you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ford swallowed hard. “B-but-”

In a flash, Stan fired a warning shot at Ford’s left shoulder. The bullet clipped the top of his shoulder, leaving a small wound in his flesh. Ford let out a sharp cry and clamped his right hand down on the wound, stumbling backwards. He looked up to see the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his face. “I said, do I make myself clear?” Stanley growled.

Ford nodded quickly. Stanley grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the back door to the house. He unlocked the door and shoved Ford outside. Ford stumbled and nearly fell over. He turned around just in time to see Stanley slam the door shut and lock it behind him. Ford felt a lump in his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. He saw Stanley in the window and quickly rushed off into the woods before his brother had the idea to shoot him again.

Ford didn’t get very far, maybe half a mile, before it became too difficult for him to breathe. His shoulder throbbed in agony and the cold night air was making him shiver. He sat down beneath a particularly large pine tree and carefully pulled his hand away from his shoulder. His palm was red and slick with blood. Hands trembling violently, Ford slowly began to tear the bloodied sleeve from his turtleneck. He tied the sleeve around his shoulder as well as he could, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as the wound made contact with the fabric. Gritting his teeth, Ford pulled the fabric tight against the wound and tied a knot with the two loose ends. He leaned back against the tree, taking deep breaths. The effects of the blood loss were starting to get to him. He felt tired and lightheaded. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just take a quick nap?

Ford dismissed the thought and forced himself to get back up, his head spinning wildly. He groaned, placing his right hand against the trunk of the tree to stop himself toppling over. Taking shuddering breaths, he continued towards the main road. Maybe he could walk up the road to find a phone to call a doctor, since he’d never quite got to grips with those ‘cell phone’ things. As he walked, however, his breath became more and more laboured, his vision beginning to swim. His feet began to trip and stumble over the rough earth.

His left foot got caught amongst some particularly large tree roots and he lost his balance. Ford toppled to the ground, his hands barely cushioning his fall. He tried in vain to get back up. His strength left him. Ford lay on the cold, damp earth, breathing ragged and the occasional cough making him shudder. He couldn’t find it within him to get up. He was far too tired. Stanley didn’t remember him, he couldn’t go into town - everyone there still resented him after what he’d done - and he could barely get off the ground.

The lump in his throat returned and Ford choked on a sob. He couldn’t help but feel as though he deserved this. All he’d ever done was make mistakes and hurt people. It was his own fault that Stanley didn’t remember him. He’d erased his brother’s mind to defeat that demon. He figured he deserved to be kicked out. He deserved this treatment. He screwed his eyes shut and gave in to the fatigue. Darkness clouded his mind and his whole body relaxed as sleep took over.


Stanley grunted, locking the gun back up in the cabinet in his room. He muttered under his breath. He eased himself down onto his bed, his back cracking and popping. He was about to lay down again when a photo in a wooden frame on his nightstand caught his attention. It was a photo of himself as a teenager, wearing boxing gloves and playfully punching someone else. The other person in the photo bore a strong resemblance to both himself and the man he’d kicked out of the house a moment ago. Picking up the photo, Stan looked over it. The photo was old and faded, but still clear. He was getting some serious déjà vu vibes just from looking at it.

The words the man had said earlier rang through his mind.

“Stanley, I’m your brother, Ford. Don’t… don’t you remember me?”

Something akin to a bolt of lightning shot through his mind and he gasped. His brother! That was his brother in the photo. His brother… the same brother who had been in the kitchen a moment ago. The same brother he’d …

Oh God.

“Ford!” Stanley leapt up from the bed and wrenched some shoes onto his feet. He tugged a jacket on and grabbed a torch before rushing downstairs and out of the back door. He turned the torch on and ran into the woods. He waved the light around, looking for any sign of his brother. The air outside was freezing, and if Ford had been shot … Stan had to hurry.

“FORD!” Stan called again, his eyes frantically scanning for any sign of Ford. “STANFORD!”

Something glistened against the bark of a tree and Stan shone the light at it. His stomach churned as he instantly recognised the slick, red substance. Blood. That was bad. Picking up the pace and wheezing, Stan kept running. “FORD!!”

A few hundred yards ahead, he came across something lying in the grass. Once the light was on it and he approached, Stan could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat. His brother was lying face down in the dirt, practically motionless. Stan rushed over. “FORD!”

Stan fell to his knees by his brother’s side, rolling him onto his back. His eyes widened as he saw the blood soaking through the makeshift bandage on his brother’s shoulder. Ford was out cold. Stan’s hands were shaking. “F-Ford…?” He put two fingers to Ford’s neck, searching for a pulse. He breathed a small sigh of relief finding that his brother’s heart was still beating. It was slightly weaker and slower than normal, but it was there. Stan shook Ford’s shoulder, trying to rouse him. “Ford, c’mon, wake up!”

Ford only twitched slightly. Stan swallowed, noticing how horrifically pale his brother looked. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his brother up off the ground and carried him bridal-style back towards the house as fast as he could. He was surprised at how light Ford was - he’d expected his brother to weigh more than that. Part of him wondered if he was underweight, but right now that was a blessing in disguise. It made it easier for Stanley to carry him - meaning he could therefore get him to the hospital faster. Ford’s head lay against Stan’s shoulder, the older twin’s mouth open slightly and his glasses resting crooked on his face. His breathing was getting shallower by the minute.

After what seemed like an eternity, Stan arrived back at the house. He set Ford down on the ground beside his car and rushed inside to get his keys. Car keys in hand, he ran back outside and unlocked the car, before heaving Ford up into the passenger seat. Clipping the belt on around his brother, Stan jumped into the driver’s side and jammed the keys into the ignition. He pulled his own seatbelt on with one hand and steered the car with the other, driving out onto the main road and heading towards the hospital.


Ford was met with bright lights the next time he opened his eyes. At first, he thought he was dead. There could have been no other explanation for the sheer whiteness of everything around him. As his senses began to come back into focus, however, he became aware of a repetitive, steady beeping sound emanating from somewhere above his left shoulder. He also became aware of the fact that the area where he’d been shot was rather numb. His head was throbbing slightly and felt as though it was full of cotton wool. He wiggled his toes, managing to regain some of the sensation back into his legs. Something was pricking the inside of his right elbow. He felt as though he were laying down in a bed somewhere. He gripped the blankets, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingertips.


“Ngh…” Ford fought to keep his eyes open, his hands clenching the blankets. He realised that his glasses were no longer on his face - his surroundings were blurred out of focus. “W-who…?”

A grey and pink shape moved into his field of vision. “Ford? You with me bro?” It was his brother, Stanley.

Ford squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus. “S-Stan…?”

He felt his brother hold Ford’s hand between both of his own. “Yeah, I’m right here Poindexter. How do you feel?”

Ford avoided his brother’s gaze, turning his head away. “‘M fine… why are you here?”

Stanley frowned. “What do you mean, ‘why am I here’? You were injured, Stanford, where else would I be?”

Ford shrugged, wincing slightly as he shifted his injured shoulder. “Anywhere else. There’s a hundred places better to be than here, with … with me…”

Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Ford, what on Earth is bugging you so much? You’ve barely talked to me in weeks. You never said goodbye to the kids, you avoid Soos and Wendy like they’re the plague, heck, you won’t even look at me. What’s eatin’ ya?”

Ford tensed up, clenching his eyes shut. “It’s nothing important, Stanley. You have a shack to run, customers to sell merchandise to, don’t worry about me.”

“Soos is watching the Shack,” Stan waved a hand around. “I’m not going anywhere. Now, seriously, tell me what’s wrong?”

Ford was silent for a moment, before letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “What isn’t wrong? Half the town’s still a wreck, a good few people were severely injured, you lost your memories and it’s all my fault. I ruined everything.”

Stan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Ford laughed again, his voice full of self-loathing. “I ruined the whole summer. I ruined the kids’ lives. I ruined Fiddleford’s life. I ruined your life, Stanley.” Ford’s voice cracked, tears stinging his eyes. “I just wrecked everything. I always thought that you were the screw-up twin, when it was me all along.”

“Ford, you’re not a screw-up,”

“Stanley,” Ford heaved a sigh. “All I’ve ever done is hurt people and use others for my own benefit. I summoned a dangerous monster just so I could built a portal that would make me famous. I guess Dad was always wrong about who the worthless twin was. It was never you. It was me, they just never realised it.”

“Ford!” Stanley grabbed his brother’s hand. “Cut it out! I didn’t bring you back just for you to beat yourself up!”

“You shouldn’t have brought me back at all!” Ford snapped, tears slowly forcing their way from the corner of his eyes. “I’m nothing but a monster. I caused the apocalypse! I’ve hurt people! Bill should have just killed me while he had the chance. It would have been better for everyone.”

“Stanford Filbrick Pines you stop right there!” Stan shouted. “You are not worthless. You are not a monster. You are not better off dead!”

“Give me one reason why I’m not!” Ford spat. “Give me one good reason as to why I’m not a worthless piece of shit!”

Stan felt his heart skip a beat. Did… did Ford really think all this about himself? “Ford, listen to me. You are not a worthless piece of shit, you understand? You know why? Because even though you messed up, you tried to fix it. You tried to correct the mistakes you made. You helped us defeat Bill. We would have all died if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I brought Bill to Gravity Falls in the first place,” Ford muttered, turning his head away. “I made the biggest mistake of my life and the whole world nearly paid the price.”

“Ford.” Stan’s voice was stern. He gripped his brother’s hand in both of his own. “You didn’t know what Bill was, or what he was capable of.”

“I should have seen him for what he was!” Ford cried “I was an idiot! Anyone with half a brain could have seen that he was lying! I was too blinded by my own selfishness to see that.”

Stan’s brow knitted together, his gaze softening. “Oh, Poindexter.”

Ford let out a quiet, choked sob. “I’m so sorry Stanley…I never wanted to hurt you. Please, just go. Go home, before I hurt you again,”

Stanley briefly considered getting up and leaving, but shook the thought away as soon as it appeared. “No, I’m not going anywhere. You wanna know what really hurts me? Seeing my brother, my twin, beat himself up and tear himself down like this. Yeah, you made mistakes, we all have, but that’s no reason to believe you’re worthless, Stanford.”

Ford bit his lip and cursed himself, feeling tears trickle down his face and drop onto the pillow beneath his head. “Then why did I make so many mistakes? Why did I turn my back on you when you got kicked out? Why did I ignore you for ten years? Why did I punch you after you wasted thirty damn years bringing me back?”

“Wasted? Ford, you’re my twin brother, there was no way in Hell I was gonna leave you in there,” Stanley ran his thumb back and forth across the back of Ford’s hand. “You didn’t deserve to suffer like that,”

Ford turned his head around to look at his brother, attempting to lift his free hand to wipe the tears away. Pain flared up in his shoulder and he let out a sharp hiss. Stanley pulled his own sleeve down and wiped the fabric across Ford’s eyes, drying the tears from them. Ford’s eyes flickered away, but he kept his head turned towards his brother. He felt Stanley run his fingers through his hair soothingly. Ford couldn’t help but shut his eyes. It was calming - it relieved some of the pressure from his throbbing head. He must have looked downright pathetic - a sixty-something year old man being coddled and comforted like a young child - but right now he couldn’t care less. He was tired and in pain.

Stanley couldn’t keep the soft smile off his face. “I love you, ya know that, right? I know you must think I hate you, but I don’t, honest.”

Ford swallowed and opened his eyes. ‘I love you’ was not something anyone had said to him in decades. Well, aside from the twins, of course. He looked at his brother, studying his expression. There was no hint of mockery behind his eyes. Stanley was being genuine. Ford let a soft smile of his own play onto his face. “I love you too, you knucklehead,”

Stan grinned and ruffled Ford’s hair lightly. “That’s better. Now, will you try and get some damn sleep? That bullet did a real number on you,”

Ford’s gaze shifted from his brother’s face to the wound on his shoulder, the smile dropping. “I guess it did, yeah,”

Stanley frowned. “Ford, I’m really sorry,”

Ford waved the concern off, turning back to look at him. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it. You were having a memory lapse and had no idea who I was. I understand it must have been rather shocking for you,”

Stanley ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but still, I shot you, Ford.”

“It’s okay, I’ve endured far worse with no hospital treatment whatsoever.” Ford took hold of his brother’s hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, Lee,”

Stan grinned at the nickname. “Alright, if you say so. Seriously, though, would you please get some sleep? You look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ford deadpanned, a playful smirk on his face.

Stanley snorted. “Just saying it like it is, Poindexter. Get some sleep, it’ll do you good.”

“‘M not tired,” Ford said. He bit back a yawn, although he was sure Stan noticed.

Evidently he did, as the younger twin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Well, then, why not just shut your eyes for a bit? These damn lights must be hurting them.”

Ford allowed his eyes to slide shut, trying to focus on the sounds and sensations around him to keep him awake. After a short while, everything began to blur together and he felt himself drifting off. He didn’t bother fighting it. His whole body relaxed as he succumbed to unconsciousness. His facial features relaxed, making him look much younger. The heart monitor continued to beep steadily above his head.

Stanley rolled his eyes. Ford had barely had his eyes shut a minute before falling asleep. He made a move to get up from the uncomfortable plastic chair he’d been sitting in, but stopped. He didn’t want to leave Ford alone, not yet. Not while his state of mind was still rather unstable. And, if he was honest with himself, Stan didn’t want to leave. Ford was hurt and his brotherly instincts were kicking in, making him want to stay by his brother’s side until he recovered. Stan settled back into the chair, already knowing he’d wake up with terrible back ache, before he too allowed himself to fall asleep. Not once did he release his gentle, yet firm grip on his brother’s hand.


Another fic for @skaleigha  ‘s Guilty Ford AU. I can’t get this idea out of my head! This one’s probably more angst-y than it should be, but I guess I got carried away  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My other Guilty Ford fic, Forgiveness, can be found here

Plot holes, typos, errors, blah blah blah. Let me know and I’ll fix ‘em.

malec love for @prettylightwoodinspires i hope you’ll feel happier again soon <3

bit of angst and comfort, somehow turned into show canon or what i’d love to see

Dim light from the livingroom is greeting Magnus as he steps through the front door, the tingle in his nape letting him know he’s here. His heart pounds that much faster, but stops for a moment as he walks inside and takes in the view before him.

A man’s sitting on the couch, unmoving, bent slightly forward into himself, his shoulders slumped, a glass of wine, he most likely hasn’t taken one sip from, in his hand, his eyes dull, staring ahead. He looks broken in a way Magnus has seen, has experienced. A way that has him feel the flares of screaming pain which will not be silenced deep in his gut. He takes a moment to collect himself before he steps closer carefully, his body speaking of caution, like nearing a wounded wild animal.

He crouches down before the Shadowhunter, a hand hovering next to Alec’s holding the glass, the other just above his knee. “Alec?” He says as softly as possible, trying to get his attention, wanting those eyes to look at him to know he’s really here with him.

When Alec looks up, their eyes connecting, Magnus feels a wave of relief which is short-lived, however, by the torment reflected in the hazel depths. Magnus takes the glass from him, puts it on the table behind them and takes Alec’s hands gently into his as he moves to sit down next to him. He needn’t ask if something’s wrong. He just hopes Alec knows he can tell him, that he trusts him enough. All Magnus wants is to make it better, whatever it is, seeing this determined, strong, wonderful man who has so much to give, so much to find out about himself, so small and hurt is causing a storm of agony inside himself.

Keep reading

Lust and Love

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2,040

Request: A part of my wants to read ravenous and rough Logan x reader smut and another part of me wants fluffy. Could you maybe write a Logan smut where it’s super fluffy? Or you can do some rough sex. I’m such a hopeless romantic how embarrassing. Thank youuuuuu :-)

A/N: Ah, I got really sappy during the ending. Okay, well I didn’t add fluffy smut per say, and I’m sorry about that, but I did add loads of fluff at the end. I hope you enjoy!

Of all the bad days you’ve had in your life, mind you there have been a lot; this had to take the cake. Your wrists were aching from the constant chuff of the too-tight chains rubbing up against them. The constant clank of chain hitting concrete was the only sound breaking the silence that had fallen over the cell. If looks could kill, Logan would be playing poker with the devil right now. His eyes stayed steadfastly forward, ignoring your seething. You watched his stiff form in the moonlight, almost as if you were trying to mentally send him your anger. Finally, fed up with keeping your anger inside, exhausted with constantly getting the shit end of the stick, and hopelessly annoyed with the man who had landed you here in the first place, you spoke up.

“(Y/N), trust me, I know what I’m doing. (Y/N), what will they do, chain us up and leave us to die? (Y/N), I’m the one with fighting experience. (Y/N), I ca-,”

“Enough,” Logan growled, interrupting your ranting. You didn’t even flinch, your anger outweighing any other emotion.

“If you would’ve listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” You hissed, your hands shaking against the chains in show. You couldn’t even care that the loud banging hurt your ears or the metal scraping your skin was aching, too busy trying to prove a point to care.

“If I would’ve listened to you, we would be dead.” He snarled back at you.

“If your plan is as solid as you think, how do you suggest we get out of here, captain?” You mocked, attempting to salute as best you could from your position. Your legs were aching with the strain of keeping yourself up high enough so your arms weren’t pulled from their sockets, your muscles groaning in protest. You were frustrated and you needed somebody to blame it on. Considering there was only one other person in the room, you vented all your hate out on him.

“Are you trying to say you can’t get out of these chains?” He raised a brow. You scowled at him, your eyes burning with anger.

“Because I’m the one that got us into this mess so obviously I’m the one that has to get us out,” you muttered sarcastically, your entire body morphing into a cat, causing the chains to thud to the ground. Your hypersensitive ears were ringing, a hiss making its way past your bared teeth.

“Relax,” Logan shushed, removing his own chains from his wrist. You stretched your muscles, returning to human form in the process. “A cat? Out of everything?” You shrugged.

“Don’t act like you’re any better there kitty claws,” you gave his retracted claws a pointed look, prompting him to return them to their natural place.

“Let’s go.” He stated, cutting his way through the barred window. “Do you have anything big enough to fl-,” he was cut off, your oversized talons digging into his shoulders as you lifted him off the ground. “Just great,” he muffled, an annoyed glower marring his features. You flapped your wide wings, loving the feeling of the cool wind rustling your auburn feathers. Flying was one of your favorite things to do; it had a way of making you feel alive. Your beady eyes looked down at Logan, gauging his expression. He was annoyed. You could live with that. You’d been angry at him for hours. Your relationship with Logan had always been, to put it simply, complicated. The two of you were normally overly flirty with each other, stealing every chance you can to just put your hands on the other. However, when the two of you got angry, World War Three was about to start. The both of you had flaring tempers, causing everyone to leave the two of you alone when you were fighting. You couldn’t help it; sometimes he could just be so frustrating. Of course, whenever you went down that alley you’d always been torn between wanting to strangle the man to death and wanting to jump on top of him and fuck him. Your mind always betrayed your angry thoughts, providing you with little facts about how kissable his lips looked or how he might feel with his strong arms wrapped around you, his body thrusting into you. The heated feeling of arousal that you’d become used to pooled in the bottom of your belly, infuriating you to no end. You felt like your body and your mind were betraying you. With a howl, you dropped yourself and Logan by one of the many warehouses that Charles had kept around the world. Logan wasted no time, heading for the door as soon as he was back on his feet. You spread your wings one more time, letting the breeze cool down your heated body, before morphing back into your normal self.

“How bad is it?” You asked, walking into the small, one-bedroomed warehouse. After you and Logan had started your mission to take down the anti-mutant groups, he’d been adamant about buying places to keep the two of you safe once you’d finish a task.

“Not terrible.” Logan replied curtly. You nodded stiffly, hating this part of the fights. It would always either get super awkward or the two of you would just end up blowing up at each other again. “Your wrists are injured,” he stated, his eyes catching on to the red skin covering your wrists.

“Yeah,” you answered, “from the cuffs.”

“Obviously,” Logan muttered. You looked at him unimpressed, your (Y/E/C) eyes shining in something akin to annoyance. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you had been staring at him earlier but it seemed enough to push his exhausted mind over the edge. “Don’t even try blaming that on me. We escaped out of there no problem.”

“We shouldn’t have got caught in the first place,” you pointed out moodily, your sleep-deprived mind causing everything to be much more infuriating.

“No, we shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Your eyes widened.

“Are you suggesting we left that little girl to die?”

“I’m saying we should have made a plan before diving in blind like that.” You took a step towards him, Logan taking his own step forward.

“Oh, the one time you actually want to use your head before jumping into a fight,” you argued.

“I know which fights actually require thought and which ones don’t,” Logan sneered, his body moving ever closer to your own.

“You are so frustrating.” You yelled, your hands pulling at your (Y/H/C) locks.

“And you’re so maddening.” He yelled back, his body practically pressed against your own.

“Dick.” You muttered, your eyes narrowing at him. There was a second of silence; no breathing, no speaking, no movement. And then, with the speed of a cheetah, Logan was pulling you into his muscular body, his tongue invading your mouth. You wrapped your legs tightly around him, your anger flaring into arousal. One hand gripped your ass while the other was tugging your hair mercilessly. He all but threw you on the edge of the bed, pulling you back towards his center with a bruising grip on your thighs. You knew this wasn’t going to be loving, wasn’t going to be sweet. No, this was going to be rough, animalistic, and feral. With a low snarl in your throat, you ripped Logan’s suit off his chest, not caring where it landed. He returned the favor, a single claw retracting just long enough to tear the fabric of your outfit, leaving your chest bare to him. He let out an animalistic growl, his teeth biting all over your exposed chest. A throaty yowl worked its way out of your throat, your hands dropping to Logan’s pants in a blinding surge of want. His bites faltered when your hands brushed over his confined erection, a pant coming from his open mouth. You were trying, and failing, to remove his pants. He seemed to notice your struggle, shredding them off his body with a smug ease. He did a similar action to your own pants, only feeling satisfied once the two of you were completely bare. The need came slamming back down, causing your vision to spin for a second. Nothing else in your life could ever be as important as having him right this instant. With a ferocious roar, you dug your teeth into his neck. He howled, his hands gripping your thighs roughly. Without so much as a second thought, he pushed his hardened length into your awaiting heat. You dug your teeth in his neck further, inflicting as much pain on his neck as his hands were on your thighs. He didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, slamming his body into your own over and over again. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails raking over his back and your mouth still attached to his neck, drawing blood. Inhuman noises were being torn from his throat, his entire body pushing into your own with a speed too fast to be human. You could feel the pleasure building deep within your stomach, your own lunges speeding up. Your insides clenched impossibly tight, the feeling so, so close. He lifted your leg just a little bit higher, sending his full length careening even further into your slick warmth. Stars exploded, the sun expanded, and the world came crashing down. Your orgasm wracked your entire body, a scream sounding so feral you almost couldn’t believe it was coming from you. Logan’s thrusts sped up for a few more seconds, his body pounding ruthlessly into yours. With a savage howl, he came, his seed warming your insides. His head dropped to your shoulder, his heavy pants heating your skin. You were both too exhausted to care, your bodies dropping back onto the bed effortlessly. Logan pulled you closer to him, your head resting on his chest as your eyes drifted shut. You closed off reality, calling it a day.

Your mind seemed to register the slight tickling sensation on your forehead before anything. You groaned, willing it to go away with your mind. Growling to yourself, you opened your eyes. The second thing your mind noticed was that you were sore in places you didn’t even know you had. Finally, your brain caught on to the fact that you were snuggled into a certain someone’s chest.

“Uh, Logan.” You greeted awkwardly, pulling out of his arms. Now that your head was free of lust and your mind was clear, you felt awkward.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” his lips lifted up in a half smile. You watched him uncertainly for a moment. “(Y/N)?” He asked softly.

“Logan,” you repeated, not entirely sure what to do with yourself. He leaned himself on his elbows, watching you curiously.

“Something the matter?” He inquired.

“We…” You breathed. “You and I… We… Last night… This morning…” You quirked an eyebrow, an amused little smile gracing his face.

“We did,” he confirmed what you already knew.

“So what do we do now?” You asked, fidgeting under the blankets. He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before placing it on your bare knee.

“We do what you want,” he replied, his eyes searching your own.

“What do you want?”

“You,” his answer was soft as he watched you. “I,” he paused, “I love you.” Your mouth fell open, gaping at him. “(Y/N)?” He asked tentatively after the silence stretched on for a moment. A blanket at warmth cocooned you at his words.

“I love you too.” You replied, moving closer to his side. He pulled you down on top of him, kissing your lips with a sweetness that had not been present last night. As you moved against his rapidly-hardening erection, you realized you needed this just as much. This time when he kissed you, there was a promise behind it. When he entered you with slow strokes, there was a meaning to it. And when he finally came, the whisper of your name on his lips, there was a devotion to it. The two of you were lustful creatures by nature, but sometimes lust wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed love to feel whole again.

anonymous asked:

Okayyyy I read your rfa reaction to witch MC and omg YES IT WAS FUCKING EVERYTHING PERFECT 10/10 would you be able to do one focusing on crystal healing specifically please? (Btw the sevens part in the bath oh my gods yes just yes)

For starters: I am so so sorry because I’m pretty sure you sent this after my first HC which was the Witchy MC on which must have been like 2 months ago and and and basically I’m so sorry for the wait

When I first read this prompt I was like “Oh man gotta research my crystal stuff” Cause I just know all the go-tos like the Quartz family, and Hematite and such and I wanted to look into and find more unique ones but I haven’t and ahhhhhh

Anyways, I was out with a few witches tonight and we made cute little gem charms for love and I was like “It’s a sign. Time to write the fic, Jackass” So here we are

Anon, if you see this please let me know because I’m gonna feel really bad if you never got to see it (TᨓT)

RFA + Crystals


  • You made him a charm, he could decide to put it on his phone or bag, or anything really
  • Actually you could have even made him a hair clip oops
  • Anyways, you had put a bunch of Tiger’s Eye stones on a wire and bent it into the shape of a star before adding a little strap to it
  • His eyes lit up when you gave it to him
  • “Whaaaa? For me?” He clenched it tight in his hand and pulled you into a hug. “Mc you’re too nice to me!?!?”
  • You chuckled as he pulled away, his eyes looked wet like he was about to cry
  • “It’s Tiger’s Eye!” You began to explain as he tied the strap to his phone case “It’s for motivation and success! So I figured it’d help you with school and with LOLOL.”
  • His eyes shot back to you again, even wetter. 
  • “Y-Yoosung you don’t have to cr-”
  • It was too late
  • He pulled you into another tight hug “I’M DATING THE MOST THOUGHTFUL PERSON EVER” He wailed as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.
  • “Yoo…sung…pls” You swear you saw your soul leave your body
  • The blonde boy just smiled as he pulled back, only to dart in for a quick but deep kiss on your lips.


  • “Jaehee! Hold your hand out I have a surprise for you!” 
  • She just stared at you for a minute before closing your eyes and putting her hand out, open and waiting to receive. 
  • You ignore the open hand though and slide a Bracelet made of Rose Quartz beads on to her wrist
  • Her eyes open and she looks at the light pink minerals
  • “Mc? This is so pretty…It must have cost a fortune I can’t accept this!”
  • “Jaehee not at all, I made it myself!” A proud smile grows on your face as she stares at the bracelet in awe 
  • “Well then…what did I do to deserve such a wonderful gift??”
  • Your eyes and smile soften as they meet your girlfriend’s. “Well, Rose Quartz is supposed to be really soothing, you know, reduce your anxiety and stuff. I know you worry a lot..about our future in with the cafe and about plenty of stuff I’m sure you try to not tell me about..”
  • She looks towards the ground, a bit guilty
  • “Don’t worry!” You reassure her. “I know you just don’t want to make me worried to. But in those times when you don’t want to ‘worry me’ I want to make sure you can relax a little more and worry less…So when you wear that bracelet I’ll feel better knowing I’m helping in at least some way”
  • Jaehee just stared at you for a moment, mouth slightly agape. After a moment of silence:
  • “Mc….I know this bracelet will help, because from now on whenever I look at it I’ll remember that we’ll always have each other. That no matter what worries are troubling me…I’ll have you by my side. And if we have each other…well then there’s nothing that can worry me that badly.” 
  • You were ready to cry
  • Gdi Jaehee this was supposed to be a gift for you not a motivational speech for MC pls 
  • You two just stared into each others’ eyes for a moment before leaning in for a soft, reassuring kiss.


  • You made him a necklace. It was simple, just a black cord with one stone hanging off of it. 
  • “What is this?” He mused as he rolled the wire wrapped stone in his fingers.
  • “Blue Lace Agate.” You said with a smile
  • Honestly Zen was pretty well rounded and healthy aside from his smoking habit
  • You had a hard time thinking of a stone he could use
  • But you remember Blue Lace Agate
  • It’s said to aid in easing stress on the shoulders, neck, and most importantly, throat. 
  • Zen spent hours in rehearsal singing and monologuing, and sure he always drank his hot honey water and did warm ups, but some extra metaphysical cushioning couldn’t hurt ^^
  • A sweet smile plays on his lips as he turns the stone over and over before turning to you
  • “Mc…would you do me the honor?” He held the necklace out for you and bent his head downwards
  • You smiled as you clasped it behind his neck
  • When he tilted his head up your faces were inches away from each other
  • He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips while your hands were still on his neck


  • You marveled at the chain once you finished
  • It was an average silver chain at first, but you managed to tightly wedge and place small Hematite stones in between the coils
  • The black and silver combo was perfect for Jumin, as well of the anti-stress properties of Hematite.
  • It’s supposed to absorb negative energies and turn them into positive ones, and even promote healthy blood flow to prevent headaches
  • You waited on the couch, chain held in your tight little fists, eager for Jumin to walk through the door
  • As soon as the lock of the door undid itself you jumped up
  • “Honey!” You exclaimed as you took his hand, giving him a bit of a shock
  • “Kitten? You’re exci-”
  • “I made something for you!” You didn’t even wait before putting the chain in his palm “I thought it’d be a nice new chain for your pocket watch, I remembered you saying you weren’t a fan of the gold one..”
  • “Kitten…it’s beautiful” He said staring at it. “Where did you buy this?”
  • “Well I got the chain from the jewelry store down the street, but I put the Hematite in myself.”
  • “Hematite?”
  • You read off your mental notebook of Hematite’s purposes and explained that you thought the black and silver was also a nice color combo
  • “You’re so thoughtful” His half lidded eyes fell on the chain as he ran his finger across it. Eventually he pulled out his pocket watch and swapped the chains.
  • He continued to muse with it for a second before looking to you, a grin on his face. 
  • He put the watch away and cupped the sides of your face in his hands
  • “Thank you, Kitten” And you two shared a passionate kiss


  • If you could you’d dress Seven in all the gems
  • He needs all the healies for his feelies
  • But you figured you’d try to pick one stone
  • And you know one stone that is basically the grandaddy of dealing with grief, pain, and overall internal healing
  • Amethyst
  • You went to the local Health and Wellness store and browsed, looking for just the right piece of Amethyst.
  • You ended up seeing an already made ring
  • It was a gold ring with a messily cut piece of amethyst. Rough around the edges, varying shades of purple, a little cloudy but when you held it up to the light you could see it was a little translucent in some parts.
  • It was perfect.
  • You had the clerk wrap it and you practically skipped all the way home.
  • “Saaaeyooounng~~” You called
  • He poked his head from around the corner “You rang?”
  • You all but ran over to him, excitement pulling the corners of your lips up. “Close your eyes and put your hand out”
  • “Oooooo a gift?” He sang as he closed his eyes. “Gee I hope it’s not a kiss or anything~”
  • “Why would I have you put your hand out for a kiss??”
  • “I don’t know, so you can hold my hand while you do it?” His smirk turned into a joking pout. You rolled your eyes and ended up giving him a peck on the lips while you placed the little wrapped box in his hand
  • “oooOoOoOOOo” He started unwrapping it, his fingers working fast, but delicate enough to manage to not rip the paper anywhere aside from the tape.
  • Once he undid the box he marveled at the gift
  • “MC….are you proposing to me?” He giggled as he held the ring up to the light
  • “Not quite yet” You rolled your eyes for the second time in the last minute, but returned to his gaze with a smile. 
  • He put the jokes aside
  • “Mc…it’s really beautiful..But why?”
  • “Amethyst is supposed to help with, like, everything. It cleanses your aura, allegedly improves memory and clear thinking, helps sleeping, and balances your energy to be more calm or energized depending on what you need….But most of all it helps with inner healing”
  • You see a small glint behind Saeyoung’s eyes, a spark, a memory of something painful.
  • His smile shrinks a bit, but you decide to press on.
  • “It’s supposed to relieve feelings of guilt, of sadness…of pain.” You took a small step towards Saeyoung and slowly wrapped your arms around him. “I just want you to be happy, Saeyoung.”
  • The world was quiet for a moment and Seven didn’t move.
  • You were worried you might have overstepped his comfort zone by bringing up the past
  • But
  • Slowly he wrapped his arms around you as well and pulled you in tight, his lips by your ear
  • “Thank you, Mc”
  • You stood like that for a moment, just holding each other.
  • Eventually one of you pulled back a bit, but only for you both to meet somewhere in the middle where your lips pressed together in a loving kiss. 
Left Behind (Part 1)

Inspired by @atomiktaco and @angstphilosophy ^-^ thank you very much! Even though that probably shouldn’t have inspired this :)) 

This is Anti and Dark fanfic, nothing gory, but there is some isolation and possible abuse so be warned.

I hope you enjoy ^-^

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✒ Acting Upon Good Deeds After Performing Bad Deeds

قال رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم : إن مثل الذي يعمل السيئات ، ثم يعمل الحسنات ، كمثل رجل كانت عليه درع ضيقة قد خنقته ، ثم عمل حسنة ، فانفكت حلقة ، ثم عمل حسنة أخرى ، فانفكت حلقة أخرى ، حتى يخرج إلى الأرض

The Messenger of Allāh Ṣallallāhu-‘Alaihi Wa Sallam said: “Indeed, the parable of one who performs bad deeds then acts upon good deeds is like a man who has a tight chain around him that is choking him, then he performs a good deed so a link breaks, then he acts upon another good deed so another link breaks, until it falls on the ground.”

● [مختصر صحيح الجامع الصغير ٢١٩٢ ، حسنه الألباني،

Mukhtaṣar Ṣaḥīḥ al-Jāmi’ aṣ-Ṣagheer no. 2192, [declared 'Ḥasan’ by al-Albānī

Newt Scamander x Reader -An Unplanned Rescue

Newt Scamander x reader- An Unplanned Rescue

Request: A reader x Newt where the reader sees people hurting a magical creature but then they step in?

A/n: I’m happy to be writing again, and I hope this is okay for the anonymous who requested it. Newt x Hogwarts Reader! Imagines are coming soon. Enjoy!
Warnings: brief mention of hurting a creature (I do not support abusing or harming animals, this is only the plot of the story, never mistreat any animal or creature of any kind), a little blood, slight dueling


You and Newt were walking hand in hand later at night after exploring the new city. Newt was determined to study a few new species that lived beyond the area, but he knew that a rest stop was needed if the two of you were to continue at the pace you were going. Street lamps lay dim as the chilly air nipped at your skin. Newt placed a swift and gentle kiss to your temple and held your hand tighter.

The two of you remained in conversation about both of your favorite bits of the city until your story was interrupted by something that sounded more like a faint strangled screech. You two continued walking with Newt’s hand now firmly around your waist as this area was not only foreign to you, but also illuminated a grave appearance of peculiarity. This area contrasted with the gleaming city you had spent hours in previously, as now a dark maze of alleyways paired with the salty stench of the docks adjacent to it laid in front of you. Before Newt led you out and around past a street corner, you turned your head to the same faint screech, but this time, it was paired with a few gruff voices. You stopped in your tracks to listen more, peering behind a wall of a building.

To your left beyond the sunken exterior sat an alleyway, but in that alleyway was not just your typical garbage, but instead, a silver baby hippogriff. The poor thing seemed frightened, as you would assume so since it was abandoned alone without its mother in the darkness. You wondered what a hippogriff was doing in a dump like this, especially one so young. You tucked yourself behind the building once more, only to notice a rusty linked chain tight around his neck. The picture became clearer now.

Taken over by concern, you yanked on Newt’s sleeve to grab his attention.

“Newt! Newt look,” you spoke in a hushed whisper. He was by your side in an instant and was already slipping his wand into his hand at the sight of the scene.

Two hulking men arose from the opposite alleys, each with his own black tattered coat and torn pants. The one holding the hippogriff balanced a cigar in his mouth before yanking on the chain, eliciting a squeal of torture from the hippogriff’s core.

“Oi, we ought to gain a bit of pennies for this one here, eh Marco?” spoke the chain holder before inserting his fat cigar in once more. “Just look at him, finest feathers I’d ever did see, strong kickers, and for the trouble it was to chain n’ smuggle him I ought to charge more!”

The other man, presumably this ‘Marco that was previously mentioned, let out a cackle of excitement as he scratched his oily scruff on his chin. “You’re right about that ay, surprised MACUSA hasn’t caught ye yet.”

The hippogriff let out another cry as it struggled to free itself, its wings beating rapidly. The man with the hand on the chain pulled it tighter. When the creature didn’t stop, the two men became furious and began to restrain him. ‘Marco’ held his wings back at an uncomfortable angle as the hippogriff let a blood curdling scream free. The chain was pulled tighter to the point where it began to dig into its neck, blood trickling out in a small stream.

You were ignited with fury. How dare they touch, even consider touching, a creature with no defense in this way.

“Oy shut your beak, you’ll get us caught, and I won’t be able to sell your pretty pelt.”

You pulled your wand out and looked at Newt, as an expression of pain and anger washed over his features. Your shoe slipped on some fallen gravel, exposing a scratching sound that directed the attention of the men to where you were standing.

“Who are you!?,” the man yelled, still struggling to contain the hippogriff as he too pulled out a wand. You leapt out from your hiding place, now in plain sight.
“Stupefy!” you yelled, aiming at the man while Newt also began to use spells to face off with the men. The hippogriff was shoved underneath a stack of broken metal by the man to keep the two of you from reaching it, as it could not move due to a heavy bar on his wing.

“Protego,” the man spoke as he too hastily fired of spells, “Damn governments got us. Expelliarmus!”

Marco began to join in as well. His wand was now pointing at you as well as he began to mutter a spell.

“Cru-,” he yelled, but didn’t finish as Newt was now raging at this point, firing spells at the two men. You were reacquainted with shock as you nearly were tortured. Your form shook slightly, as you stared at Newt, choking out a ‘thank you.’ You continued fighting alongside Newt, spitting words of fire off your tongue, but the baby Hippogriff’s squealing and screeching brought you back to a new objective. You slowly began to guard yourself and slip to where the baby was, crouching down to avoid scaring it.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you, let’s get you out.”

He looked afraid at first but once you started to dismantle the makeshift cage, he let out sounds of gratitude. As you about to move the third piece away, you heard a shout from Newt across the way.

“Y/n look out!”

But before you could react, you were ripped away from the creature and your wand fell to the pavement. The bigger man was now gripping you so you couldn’t move and you were kicking with all your might as a string of swear words slipped past your lips.

“Put me down you-,”

“Pretty and feisty aren’t you, too bad you’re trying to steal my monster.”

You kicked harder, “He’s not a monster, and last I checked he didn’t belong to you,” you spat aggressively.

“Well he does now, maybe you will too,” he snickered. However, you had had far too much of his rubbish, so you kicked once more, this time pushing yourself up to nail him directly in the ‘baby maker.’

With a thud he fell, moaning in misery as you seized your wand again.
“Thank Merlin this isn’t broken,” you muttered as you checked your wand for damage, “Petrificus totalus.”

The man was now a statue and you turned around to see Newt, who had taken care of the other one. You were both breathing heavy from the chaos and you didn’t even notice that your arm was bleeding badly until now. Newts face was sweaty as each freckle could be seen in the light from the lamps above, and his hair was askew but to you he still looked just as handsome as the day your first met. He rushed over to embrace you and place a somewhat rough and eager kiss to your cheek.

“You’re so strong darling,” he whispered. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him, the baby hippogriff needed to be saved from its iron prison. The two of you gently removed each bit away so that the hippogriff’s body could be released. When he saw Newt, he began to panic again.

“No it’s okay he’s a friend,” you said quietly while stroking his head.

Newt responded, “Yes, I’m helping you, shh it’s alright now, mummy is here, mummy’s got you.”

You gushed at how even after all the chaotic action you three had just endured, Newt still managed to be the adorable ball of fluff you loved.

After it had warmed up to him, he scooped up the creature, carefully avoiding the wing that needed to be patched up in the case. The men who had attacked you had been obliviated, even though Newt hated using that, because he knew it needed to be done. After the two of you began walking out of the darkened alleyway, and after you had panicked a bit since you thought Newt lost the case but you were then told it was tucked away in a cracked side of a building by him, you set the creature inside and headed to where you were staying.

Hours later, you were back safely in the case helping Newt with the hippogriff, who now obtained the name Winston. Winston’s wounds were treatable. Newt quickly prepared a solution to help with the bleeding and swelling of the neck injury and made sure he was resting to heal his injured wing. He also began to fit in around the case, becoming best friends with Dougal almost instantly. After Winston was sleeping and being ‘babysat’ by Dougal, Newt took your wounds next. He had escaped with only a bruise or two, while you on the other hand had am injured arm.

“Episkey,” he muttered as it soon began to seal itself up. Once it was complete, he brought your arm back up to his lips and kissed it better once more.
“Winston is so happy here,” you stated, for who could not see the graciousness of the beast?

“Yes he is, and I’m so glad to be with someone as caring and brave as you are. Love you amaze me.”

You giggled slightly while hugging him, “You amaze me too Newt.”

The two of you shared another kiss, his hands intertwining with yours as you deepened it. You then broke the kiss and placed a smaller one onto his nose before pulling him to follow you to spend more time getting to know the new baby, who was happily dozing curled under his wings in the safety and protection of your care.



My chain is not tight enough, but i can’t do anything because the damn garage which has made the last maintenance has tightened the nut of my rear wheel too much … Dammit !

Well … Seems like i’ll have to wait until Tuesday to go back to the garage so they could repair their mistake 😠

anonymous asked:

Saw another anon asking about Madoka. Would you be willing to imagine the Senshi as Madoverse witches, and describe them in excrutiating detail for us?

WHOO BOY I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR 2 DAMN DAYS. I still have some issues with it, but I feel like it’s about as perfect as I can get it realistically before driving myself mad and/or just never publishing it. It’s only one of the girls because, well, it’s still more than 2,500 words because I have no idea how to shut up. 

Spoilers for Madoka CONCEPTS, but not for the actual show. Reminder that I have Disqus! 



The first note in an elegiac symphony that would only end in ruin.

Mina whipped around to face the sound, and saw Haruka’s sword fall to the floor. The witch had been defeated, the Grief Seed laid plump on the floor ripe as a berry for picking, the labyrinth had faded from around them, and yet she was reminded that even in victory, there is no moment for relaxation.


Haruka clutched at the Soul Gem on her shoulder, eyes wide, as if trying to desperately hide the quickly growing rift in her gem, to conceal the inevitable shatter of her own life. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she fell to her knees.

“Haruka…” Michiru’s whisper was soft and fragile, her soul already giving way to the sorrow as she stood, fixed as a statue, as if she could stop this moment in time.

Haruka looked up at her, scared and pleading. “Michi, I—“


Keep reading

Flat Dreams - Prologue

Title: Flat Dreams
Summary: Bill came into existence in a tightly regulated world, and it chafed him raw. But he never thought there may be other dimensions out there, until he found the memoirs of someone long gone…
Characters: Bill Cipher. Duh.
Rating: T
Status: complete.

“You think those chains are tight? Imagine living in the Second Dimension. Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams. I liberated my dimension!”
– Bill Cipher, Gravity Falls

“Prometheus up in Spaceland was bound for bringing down fire for mortals, but I–poor Flatland Prometheus–lie here in prison for bringing down nothing to my countrymen. Yet I exist in the hope that these memoirs, in some manner, I know not how, may find their way to the minds of humanity in Some Dimension, and may stir up a race of rebels who shall refuse to be confined to limited Dimensionality.”
– A Square, Flatland

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Chains and Broken Bones (Part 2 of There Comes a Train)

Title: Chains and Broken Bones (Part 2 of There Comes a Train)

Read PART 1

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Word Count: 1599

Warnings: (TRIGGERS) angst, major depression, drinking, kidnapping, hallucinations

Summary: Fast forward a few months after your suicide and Newt is suffering. How will he cope, or will he?

A/N: I’m sorry for the wait; I’m having a very busy month. Thank you all so very much for your support on the first part! I was amazed to see that you guys wanted a second part so here it is. This will probably be the final part but feel free to send requests! Still pretty dark so please read the warnings, but other than that, enjoy! :)


In times of despair and distress, it was only human to blame it all on someone else. He blamed himself.

He’d start his day with tears and end it in the same way. It would never be the same without you.

Newt Scamander could have died of a broken heart. But he had his creatures to take care of, and he loved them like his own children. But feeding and talking to them was just a routine, something to fall into and keep busy. He tried to stay as sober as possible around them.

At first, he sometimes forgot you were gone. He’d set out two plates for dinner or call out your name, believing you were just in another room. Then, he stopped eating. He became a walking skeleton with flat greasy hair and sunken in cheeks. The Goldstein sisters and Jacob were devastated, too, but they never had yours and Newt’s relationship.

They had dealt with all your arrangements for you, including your small funeral, in which Newt couldn’t bear to stand through the whole ceremony.

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AU STARTER opppeen

Jai groaned, adjusting the chain tied tight around his neck, growling at the guards idly passing by. Most of the guards yelped, quickly shuffling away. Save one guard, the warden, stopped, giving him a brazen smile.

Jai inwardly growled, knowing what was to come next. The warden opened the door, walking in with a satisfied swagger. “Nice to see you again, kitten.” He sneered. The man had resorted to calling Jai ‘kitten’ ever since he arrived at this damned prison. Probably to make the poor man feel worse than he already does.

The warden stepped behind him, kicking him in the back, which was still healing from yesterday, with a smirk plastered on his face. “Aww, did I hurt the widdle kitten?” Jai hissed softly, which only made the warden chuckle. “You have a visitor.”

A visitor? Who would want to visit me of all people? Jai thought. The warden turned around, walking towards the door. “Have fun you two, I’ll be outside.”

малышка Part 12

Hey guys! Here’s the next part of малышка! The end is near! Also the violence has arrived, please read those warnings. If you don’t want to read the violence, but want to know what happens in this part of the story, I can send you a cut version or summary. Just send me a message! Thanks for reading! Happy FRIDAY! 

Warnings for the overall series: Fluff, angst, violence, enemy death,

Summary: You worked at HYDRA under your father for most of your life. You met the Winter Soldier when you were young. This story takes place 17 years later.

малышка Masterlist

Word Count: 440

“I’ll go get her father.”

“Not yet. I’m not done with her.”

“She’ll be here for the rest of her life. You can do whatever you want to her after her father sees we did our job.”

You heard them speaking but it sounded so distant. Like you were under water. You willed your eyes to open but your body forgot how to make that happen.

Slowly, their voices came closer. You started feeling the headache. Then you felt it in your jaw, your cheekbone, your eye. Then you recalled they had been hitting you. You must have passed out.

Finally you remembered how to open your eyes. It took a few seconds for them to focus on the restraints around your wrists. You were in a chair, still wearing James’ shirt from this morning. Now, it was torn and blood stained.

“Mornin, princess.” The man sang. You looked up at him through swollen eyes. He was grinning wickedly at you and it made your stomach flip with disgust. He leaned closer to you and you spat in his face, the only thing you could do to keep him away.

The man hit you so hard you were sure you heard your cheekbone crack. Blood flew out of your mouth and you saw stars. The only thing that distracted you from the pain was a new voice in the room.

Your dad came into view with a look of fake pity donning his face. His voice dripped like syrup. “Did they hurt you sweetheart? I’m sorry. They just don’t like it when someone doesn’t listen to their boss. Are you ready to listen now?”

You stayed silent in the chair.

He grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks together, sending a sharp pain down your jaw. “Answer me,” he growled.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“You’re going to stay here and be a good little HYDRA agent for the rest of your life. Do whatever I say. Or we’re gonna go find your little boyfriend and shock him ‘til he dies. Okay, princess?”

Before you could answer, his clown grin turned into dark scowl as his eyes followed the chain around your neck to your chest. He pulled James’ dog tags from under your shirt and studied them.

“You love him?” He asked, his voice holding something you couldn’t quite place.


He continued calmly, “Then let me show you how to wear these.”

With the chain in his hands he walked around to the back of your chair and pulled it tight. The chain dug into your skin and your lungs stung without the air they needed. It wasn’t long until, again, you felt as though you were underwater and everything went black.



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