he is empty

Vanish I

Originally posted by elektranatchyos

Steve Harrington x Reader

Request:  i was wondering if you could do an imagine where instead of barb being taken, its the reader? so while the whole town mourns, steve, nancy and jonathan all try and find her?

Barb is still…gone…in this because I am 100% horrible. 

I don’t know how many parts this is going to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Steve sat in the interrogation room at the Hawkins Police Department. His eyes were directed at the metal table, unblinking. A heavy frown was set on his face and tears lined his eyes. His heart was pounding and his stomach felt like it was about to hit the floor. The heavy door to the room opened and shut with a click. 

Sheriff Hopper stood at the door, watching Steve Harrington with his brows scrunched together. He set his coffee on the table and took a seat. A notebook and pen was sat neatly on the table in front of him.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night, Steve. Every. Single. Detail.” Hopper tapped the pen against the notebook, waiting for the teenager before him to start speaking.

“It-“ Steve’s voice shook. He cleared his throat and started again, looking up at Hopper. “It was a normal Friday night for us. I picked her up from her house at around six, then we went to my place,” Hopper nodded, writing it down.

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Season’s Eatings {A Nessian Thanksgiving Oneshot}

Well, friends, sorry that this is so late! I got stuck at family shindigs later than I expected to and the wine was free flowing. So this was written half drunk. (I’m not even sorry.)

Shoutout to @nerdperson524 for guessing correctly! It is Nessian centered. But come on, are y’all even shocked at this point? You all know I’m Nessian trash.

With out further ado, please enjoy!

Originally posted by fluorize

Peeking into the oven for the 10th time in 5 minutes, Nesta groaned and slammed the door. She threw the oven mitts onto the counter and rested her forehead against the fridge. This was not supposed to be this hard.

When Nesta and Cassian moved into their house just before Halloween, she informed everyone that she would be in charge of Thanksgiving dinner this year. As the day grew closer, and Feyre, Elain and the rest of the group offered to bring different dishes and desserts, Nesta was adamant that she could handle it and the only thing they needed to bring were themselves and their appetites. The tree was up, the decorations were hung, and the outside of the house was twinkling with Christmas lights everywhere you looked.

But ever since she started cooking at 7:00 this morning, one thing after another had gone wrong. She accidentally used baking soda in place of powder in in the cornbread and it looked like a frisbee. The cranberry sauce looked more like a pan full of blood. And now the pecan pie she’d put in the oven over an hour and a half ago was still a bubbling vat of goop, not the delicious, golden-brown delicacy she’d seen her mother bake when she was a child.

She glanced at the clock and gasped, running out to the garage. She opened the fridge where the turkey had been brining since last night and pulled it out, balancing it in her arms and bumping the door closed with her hip. As she made it back up the couple of steps to the back door, she saw the door had clicked shut, where she thought she had left it cracked. Carefully resting the pan and bird on the door, she let go to reach for the doorknob.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion and Nesta was powerless to stop any of it.

When she reached for the knob, her arm tipped the pan, pouring the brining liquid down the front of her t-shirt and jeans. She gasped and jumped back, jostling the bird and then the unthinkable happened: the turkey hit the garage floor, where it bounced and clattered across the floor. It was still frozen solid.

She fell to her knees and screamed, all of her frustration and stress coming out as she gripped her hair.

The door flew open and Cassian appeared in the doorway, still wearing his Velaris Police Department uniform. His hand was instinctively reaching for his gun as he said, “Whats happening? Nesta, baby, what’s wrong?” His eyes were shooting around the dusty garage, looking for an assailant or something that caused his fiancée to be on her knees, with tears streaming down her face. When his eyes landed on the uncooked turkey next to his police cruiser, he tried not to laugh. He really did.

As his booming laughter filled the small room, he kneeled down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“It’s not funny,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“It kind of is,” he said, leaning back to wipe the tears from her face. He grabbed the empty pan, stood, walked over and leaned down to pick the bird up.

“Uh, Nes,” he said. “You know this thing is-?”

“Yes, I know it’s still frozen, Cassian!” She screamed, burying her face in her hands. “Everyone will be here in two hours.” She paused and the words were so quiet, he barely caught them. “I ruined everyone’s Thanksgiving.”

Leaving the turkey where it was, he stood Nesta up and wrapped her in his arms. “You did not ruin Thanksgiving. I’ll take care of it. You just go upstairs, put on that beautiful green dress that I know you’ve been saving for today, and leave your hair down.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose after she looked up at him. “You know I love it when you leave your hair down.”

With that, he ran out of the garage and left without another word. She heard the front door open and close and she just stood there, staring after him.

Taking his advice, she went upstairs, hopping in the shower, and got ready. He was right, she had been saving the green dress for this occasion and she decided to wear her hair down, letting it curl around the open neckline. She spent extra time perfecting her make up and by the time she opened their bedroom door, voices were floating up the stairs and she knew their guests had arrived. She fought back the urge to slam the door shut and stay in her room for the rest of the night, but instead, she took to the stairs, head held high. She would own up to her mistake. This was all on her.

She would serve her salty green beans, lumpy mashed potatoes, and burnt sweet potato casserole. She’d give them goopy, undercooked pecan pie and flat cornbread. And next year, she would do better. Next year, she would plan better. Next year, she might even swallow her pride and accept help.

But as she descended the stairs, she was met by the most amazing array of smells; savory, sweet and delicious.

She saw Lucien was sitting on the couch with a red-haired woman, his arm slung over her shoulder. They each had a beer in hand and Lucien nodded at her in greeting. She heard Elain and Feyre’s voices bustling around in the kitchen, her kitchen, as if they owned the place. Steeling herself, she walked into the kitchen and ready to see her sisters.

“Nesta, by the cauldron, everything looks amazing!”

She was caught off guard as Feyre through her arms around her neck. An arm wrapped around her waist and her hand rested on her back. Feyre’s growing belly was pressing against her own stomach. “It- it does?” She asked, steadying herself.

“Of course!” Elain beamed, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “I never expected you to make such a spread.”

Nesta felt a groomed eyebrow quirk and glanced over Elain’s shoulder to the dining room.

There was a feast fit for a king spread out on her dining room table.

She tried to hide her shock, but her sisters knew her too well. “What is it?” Feyre asked as she leaned back and got a good look at Nesta’s wide eyes.

“I don’t- How did- I didn’t-.”

Two strong arms wrapped around her waist. “I set the table for her while she was getting ready. She hasn’t seen it with the full effect yet.”

Feyre’s eyes filled with tears as she looked from Cassian to Nesta. “That is so sweet,” she whispered, sniffling.

Rhysand stepped around Cassian and groaned. “These damn pregnancy hormones. Did you know that last night, she cried during a Black Friday commercial?” He pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead and laid a tender hand on her growing belly.

Azriel wrapped an arm around Elain’s waist and said “It’s getting awfully chummy in here and I’m starving. Why don’t we sit down and start eating?”

Cass flung a hand out towards the dining room and said, “I like how you think, brother. Lead the way.”

As everyone headed into the dining room, Nesta said, “We’ll be right there,” and gripped Cassian by the wrist.

After the room had emptied, she turned to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “How?” was all she asked.

“Rita’s brother owns a meat and three. She owed me a favor after I personally ran security for her Halloween party last month. She convinced him to help us out.”

Nesta was speechless, so instead of saying anything, she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. Breaking away, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Next year,” he whispered, “maybe take the bird out of the freezer a few days before, yeah?”

She smacked his chest and blushed.

But she wouldn’t worry about next year. She was going to focus on this year, on the friends and family that were piled into her home. On the love and happiness she could practically see radiating out of the dining room. Who cares if she hadn’t cooked the entire meal herself.

There was always next year.

Huntress in the Castle: Part Three

Part One and Part Two

It is so maddeningly quiet.

I am used to five older brothers, I am not used to this. I am not used to being so alone. I am so used to cleaning, or cooking, or playing with Finn and Craig, or talking to Niall. I am used to activity and voices and laughter. I have only been here for one day, what am I supposed to do?

I leave my room, looking back and forth to make sure Nadine isn’t anywhere. And when I see she isn’t around, I sprint like a madman. I run as fast and as I hard as I can and jump on the banister, I scream all the way down, howling laughter. I have never gone so fast in my life! I am flying! Oh God, I am actually flying! I realize then that there isn’t anything to stop me. I can’t stop!

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I was going to this old theater building with my friend because our drama teacher called us all in. She had an expert there to help us with our acting. I was hugging my friend’s mom goodbye when I heard my friend make a noise behind me. I turned around and Dylan O'Brien was walking into the building. My friend and I hurried in, but my drama teacher called my friend aside and before she went there, she said to me to “go live my dream”. I walked into a room with a giant wooden table and our drama teacher’s boyfriend was sitting at one end surrounded by students. Dylan O'Brien was at the other end with no one sitting around him. I said to myself, “hmm maybe I should go sit by him so he doesn’t feel lonely” so I went up to him and right before I was about to sit down, this girl pulled the chair away from me. I was just hovering there and Dylan told me that it was a “nice chair” and I was like thanks, then he looked at his empty wrist like you would at a watch, and stuttered “I um, have a… um, I’m just gonna go” and he got up and walked right through a wall.


I never liked the idea of Will’s dad being a jerk, (like he is in ALL fics) I always thought he was just a guy that didn’t know how to express his love for his son in more open ways, after all Will never talked in a bad way about him, and even some of the things he loves are things his dad taught him.

I ended up joking over twitter that his dad was Ron bc they share many hobbies and the way they live, and well a joke led up to this…(Hannigram are still on the run tho  but Ron doesn’t watch tv and lives in the middle of nowhere so he doesn’t know/care his son-in-law is a serial killer) 

Hannibal will never let Will live down that his dad accepted him officially, Will regrets it so much

Bonus (how do you know what human meat tastes like wtf?!?!)


Magnus being very much not okay after what happened to him.

anonymous asked:

How many times do you think Merle or Magnus wake up to Taako just stealing their body heat? Like the elf wasn't there earlier but he's here now

All the time.

Much more than anyone would expect for how far he keeps himself away from everyone.

The cuddling starts right at the beginning, when it’s just the three of them and they barely know each other. They’re out on the road, and he doesn’t mean to, but Taako just drifts to one of their bedrolls - no preference, just whoever is closer. They wake up to an armful of elf, quietly sleeping and closer to them than he usually gets while awake. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s doing it until he wakes up the next morning and he’s not where he fell asleep. Magnus and Merle don’t mind, but Taako doesn’t want to talk about it.

When Taako makes a point to stay away, he has night terrors. It happens every night without exception; he shifts and cries out, clutches the sheets and reaches for something. Magnus and Merle manage to put up with listening to that for three nights before they can’t stand it anymore. One of them climbs up to the top bunk every night, and climbs back down before he’s awake in the morning. Taako knows, but he doesn’t say anything; none of them say anything. It should be weird, a weird thing to do for three people who have just met, but it doesn’t feel weird to them. They don’t need to talk about it.

When they’re in the bigger apartment, Taako doesn’t sleep right next to them in the same room anymore. He assumes that means the end of the cuddling - he won’t keep anyone up with his noise now - but Magnus is at his door before bed, standing awkwardly.

“Thought you’d like some company,” he says. Merle is right behind him.

It’s a tossup over who is sleeping in any room at any time, but Taako is usually not alone. Sometimes one or both of his roommates will be in his room, and sometimes he’ll wander to one or the other’s room. The rest of the Bureau starts to catch on, especially after Angus walks in one morning for a magic lesson to find all three of them passed out together on the couch. 

Angus, as it happens, has no objection to cuddly naps. After-lesson naps become part of their routine, along with snacks and occasional pranks.

Carey and Killian tease Taako for the cuddling when they find out, until Magnus quietly tells them what it’s like to sleep nearby while Taako is sleeping alone. Taako feels like he should have an explanation - some kind of story about a traumatic past - but he really doesn’t

When asked, he just shrugs. “The bed feels too empty.”


so uh, about aizawa,

Jason is the kind of older brother who will pick you up and carry you into the kitchen while you scream “put me down put me down put me down” and drop you into the garbage can saying “okay I’ll put you down” and Damian is the kind of younger brother who falls victim to this multiple times


you think people can’t tell

more watery aesthetics I guess

its tea

second ones transparent


Draco feels a tremor tear through him. His fists are clenched, his jaw muscles tense, his chest tight, his knees wobbly. He’s breathing heavily as his stomach twists viciously, the hot feeling inside it beginning to spread, infecting the rest of his body. Like venom. He stares down the empty corridor, lit by torches. His vision blurs, little spots appearing in front of him. He feels dizzy. He wants to scream. He wants this feeling inside of him to take physical form, so he can punch it, destroy it.

He wants the rage to leave his body.

Well, what Draco really wants is the cause of his rage to go away. How many letters from his father is he supposed to receive calmly, while Lucius keeps going on and on about how disappointed he is in his son, not sure if he can be even called his son any longer.

Draco feels sick. His stomach gives another twist, but Draco refuses to show weakness. He will not be sick. No. He hears, rather than feels, his jaw cracking as he tenses his muscles further. His arms are shaking now. Unthinkingly, he turns to the wall and punches it. Hard. He feels no pain, but there’s another cracking sound.

Draco feels his eyes sting, which only makes him angrier. This will not make him cry. He will not spill a single tear over this. And yet, he can’t seem to stop the hot tears from running down his cheeks.

He startles when he hears footsteps echoing off the walls. He hastily wipes the tears away with his sleeve and looks up. Of course. Of course it has to be Potter!

“Malfoy.” He sounds puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

Draco doesn’t answer and averts his eyes, in fear of Potter noticing he just had a moment of weakness.

“Malfoy,” Potter repeats. Draco feels a new surge of anger course through him. He wants to hit Potter. Hexing him wouldn’t be gratifying enough. He wants to physically injure him with his hands, his whole body.

Before Potter knows what’s happening, Draco lunges at him. His fist connects with his jaw and Potter stumbles backward. He blinks a few times, obviously flabbergasted and blinks at Draco stupidly. After a moment, he frowns.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

Draco lunges at him again, trying to land a punch. His vision blurs once more, making it difficult to see where to hit Potter. But it doesn’t matter. Draco doesn’t care which part of Potter he will injure, as long as it hurts. He wants Potter to hurt as much as he does.

But Potter is fighting back. He hits Draco in the stomach, making him flinch. He welcomes the sharp pain. It numbs the other sensations in his body. It doesn’t last long, though. Once again, he feels detached from his body.

Draco’s not sure, but he thinks he got Potter on his shoulder and punched his chest, knocking the breath out of him. When Draco starts whirling around again, striking out in an uncontrolled manner, he suddenly feels arms encircling him, clutching him.

“Damn it, Malfoy, stop,” Potter shouts. He tightens his grip, trying to get Draco to stop moving. Draco fights against the restraint, tries to break free, but Potter is apparently stronger than him.

“Bloody hell, I heard you’ve been starting fights lately for no apparent reason,” Potter squeezes out while Draco still tries to get him off him. “What is the matter with you?”

Draco just grunts and tries to shove his elbow into Potter’s side. He fails. When all his attempts fail, he finally slumps down. Potter, surprised by the sudden extra weight, tumbles and they both go down.

Draco needs a moment to realise he’s half sitting in Potter’s lap, his body still somewhat encircled by Potter’s arms. It’s too much. Draco can’t take this. The hot tears he spilled earlier are nothing compared to what’s happening right now. He’s choking on his own sobs, every inhale torture to his lungs.

He can’t even win a fight against Potter, Draco thinks bitterly. Is his father right? Is Draco really a disappointment? Draco is faintly aware that he’s heaving and puffing, his chest aching.

“Malfoy,” Potter says quietly, uncertainty clear in his voice. He hasn’t moved his arms and Draco wants to slap them away, because the warmth that’s seeping through his robes is too bittersweet for him to bear. It’s not Potter’s intention to comfort him with this proximity.

“Your hand,” Potter suddenly mutters. Draco looks down at it. His hand his bruised and swollen, the skin on his knuckles cracked. He still doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just numb, like most days lately, not in control of his own body.

He hates that he can’t get up and just leave. He’s still sitting in Potter’s lap, sobbing like a child. Draco feels a tentative finger under his chin and tries to jerk his head away, but Potter’s grip is firm. He forces Draco to look at him and Draco can do nothing against it. He stares at Potter as several emotions pass over his face. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens to release a warm puff of breath. Draco feels it on his face and it’s like Potter has struck him.

The aching in his chest worsens and Draco breaks down completely. He lets his head fall down, not caring where it lands. The fingers under his chin disappear, as Draco’s head hits something solid. Potter’s shoulder, he realises, when something soft tickles his ear. Potter’s hair.

Draco knows this is wrong. He knows Potter is getting a glimpse of something, Draco has been trying to hide from everyone. He can’t show weakness. He just can’t.

He isn’t sure, at first, if he’s imagining something pressing into his back and the warmth on his cheek, until he tries to turn his head and finds that he can’t. Because Potter’s cheek is pressing into his, his arms are around Draco once more. He’s drawing circles on Draco’s back with his palms rather awkwardly.

Draco really does know this is wrong and he has no idea what possessed Potter to actually try and comfort him, but when Draco feels a warm hand move over his head and begins stroking his hair, Draco closes his eyes and decides that, just for tonight, he will forget about everything that is wrong.

Alteans being resistant to most earth toxins and poisons is the one hc that would make for the most coolest and messed up shit tbh.

On one hand you can have Allura handling poison dart frogs and everyone’s like freaking out but they realize that she’s immune so she holds them just tight enough they won’t jump at the paladin’s faces so they can get a closer look at the pretty little things.

On the other hand you can have them catch Allura pouring windex in a glass of ice and taking that shit down like shots like it’s gatorade and Lance faints, Hunk is screaming, Pidge is screaming, Shiro is freaking the fuck out and calling 911 and Keith is on the couch fucking asleep. And Allura wondering wtf is going on because she’s had like six of these drinks last week and she was fine so she doesn’t know why they’re all freaking the fuck out and taking her to the hospital.


Ven… He was here…