i'll keep them both until i have someone to share it with

Jealous Girl.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Readers.

Warnings: SMUT. Jealousy, annoyed reader, PWP, unprotected sex (Kids, remmeber to wrap your presents). Public sex, me being a shameless hoe for Murder Daddy.

Word Count: 1262.

Rating: 18+


So… I wanted to write jealous reader. @sexylibrarian1 was ordering me to finish this so I could go and start writing that other thing (she knows what I’m talking about). Here you go, now you have something to complain about.

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sweet creature


after being overseas for six years, bucky is struggling to adjust. being home after an honorable discharge isn’t as easy as the movies make it seem, but could you and your child be the key to bucky’s happiness?

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: ~10K 

warnings: angst, children, mentions of abandonment, nightmares, mentions of PTSD, mentions of guilt, mostly fluff, happy ending

a/n: this is for @bionic-buckyb‘s 5K AU writing challenge. my prompt was number 18 (“I’m such an idiot. I made the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”), and i may have gone a bit overboard (like way overboard) but. oh well. i hope you guys like it! 

Originally posted by thesoldierchildren

request | masterlist

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anonymous asked:

*slides over a briefcase of money* I'll love you so ducking much if you do a part 2 of Lotor with the Lotor headcanon where Lotor goes to gets his pet back from the paladins. Thank you very much. Please

*slips on my Gucci shades* consider the job done 

part 1 right here

  • Lotor spends a day max in locating your signal. he has half of the quadrants under his command on high alert for the Paladins
    • he’s snappish with his generals and even Axca doesn’t know how to talk to him (and she cares for him the most). tbh, none of the generals foresaw how much he would be suffering with you gone
    • he won’t eat, he won’t brush his hair and he’s been sitting on his throne since you went missing, brooding as he imagines smashing the Paladins one by one for taking away his pet
  • While in the Castle of Lions, the team attempts to interrogate you on Lotor’s exact location but you’re so scared, out of depth and missing your Prince
    • “I just wanna go home,” you whimper. “I want my Prince. Who are you?”
    • “We’re the Paladins of Voltron,” Shiro says in his best calming tone, “and we’re not going to hurt you.”
    • “Where is Lotor?” Allura immediately jumps the gun and Shiro’s efforts are for naught as your guard is up and you wouldn’t speak anymore
    • in the end, Shiro sighs, “Let’s just leave her. She’s obviously in shock. Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.” Pidge even tries to convince you but it’s Keith who pushes the hardest
    • he reminds you that in not giving up Lotor’s position, you’re essentially betraying the Alliance and the whole universe. but you dig your heels in, you will not give up Lotor, even if the Paladins offer you freedom
      • what is freedom if it means you’ll be separated from him for the rest of your life?
    • Allura agrees with Shiro, and activates the particle barrier, ready to close the castle for tonight when a loud blare fills the space. “Quiznak!” the Princess yells, fear in her eyes, “Lotor is here!” 
  • you scramble up and the castle jarrs, as if something slammed into it. The doors suddenly slip open, and Zethrid barges in, with Narti at her side. Ezor slips in, Coran standing in front of her, his bright purple eyes diminishing as Narti drops her palm from his back
    • “Hello, Paladins!” Ezor greets, much to their shell shock dispositions. “We’re just here to retrieve someone that belongs to our Prince. See, he doesn’t like it when people take away his love, and you all are going to pay~~”
    • Axca bursts in like the badass she is and engages with both Shiro and Keith who has already unfroze from the shock and are reaching for their weapons. It’s Ezor who picks you up and you both run from the room as the Paladins give chase
  • she throws you into a pod and shoots you into the Galra cruiser. You’re scared, but when the doors open and you see Lotor, he rushes towards you, pulling you into a tight hug.
    • “Oh, (Y/N), I was so worried,” he breathes, as he lifts you into his arms. “Did they hurt you? I will personally kill them if they scarred you.”
    • “N-No, Lotor,” you reassure, “they didn’t touch me.” he exhales in relief. he thought…oh good stars, he thought that you would’ve left him and it gave him new perspective on your relationship
    • the generals appear, slightly roughed, but triumphant as Ezor throws her arms around you. “Oh, we missed you so much (Y/N)! The ship has been so quiet without your laughter!” 
      • Lotor clears his throat and she immediately lets you go, and remains chastised. he spares his generals a nod of gratefulness as he steers you into the bathroom
  • he’s much gentler here, and he even washes your hair, taking care to soap your whole body. it’s a nice feeling and when you lean back into his arms, moaning lightly, he takes it as an open invitation. 
    • has you bent over the luxurious bathtub as he takes from behind, all the while he’s praising you. it would’ve given you emotional whiplash if you didn’t feel the same way as him
  • he would keep you in his room, insisting that you need rest as he brings you food and books to keep you occupied. 
    • he’s less guarded, and where he once used to stop you from asking questions, he now encourages your curiosity
    • you’ve never heard him laugh this much before, especially when you share your culture with him. “Humans eat what now??” 
    • it’s a pretty laugh and you’re f u c k e d in a different sense of the word
  • you expect him to be rougher with you, but he’s still gentle, and when he takes you that night, his hands are entwined in yours, and his lips are on your ear, whispering how much he missed you
    • it’s a nice change, and you ask him about it
    • “well, if I want you to be the mother of my children, I have to make sure you’re safe and able to conceive, am I right?” you’re in shock. I mean, he’s basically popped you the Galran version of a marriage proposal
      • “you…you want to have a child…with me?” 
      • “I can take care of you,” he says in earnest, gripping your hands in his. “You’ll never be for want and our child will be loved. I will try my best and I know he will be a great ruler when I take over the universe.” 
        • you smile, and say, “What if our child’s a she?” 
        • Lotor grins, “then I hope she will be a most fearful Queen.”
  • Something must be wrong with you bc you agree, and sex is a given almost every night when he has a spare moment.
    • he arches your back, saying that, “the seed will take better” and he’s awfully kind to you that you almost cry 
    • no one has ever been this attentive to you and you feel like you don’t deserve his treatment
  • Nothing works until one night, he slams the door open, looking visibly upset and when you ask him, he remains scarily silent, dragging you into his arms and pinning you to the wall
    • he fucks you against the hard surface, as he leaves bruises on your neck, forcing you to cum multiple times that night. he’s not finished with you, as he throws you onto the bed, pushing himself between your legs as his mouth latches harshly onto your wetness
    • Lotor comes in you about three times that night, his refractory period almost nonexistent
    • when he seems ready to talk, you ask him and he says that he’s just received word that his Father is thinking about appointing another successor as the Galran Emperor
      • he’s sorry, saying that he’s been mistaken and you’ve never seen him this broken. you know he has a hard relationship with his Father, but you never expected it to be this bad
      • you comfort him that night and allow him to make love to you, and despite the horrible news, you’ve never felt that connected to him
  • Everything’s all well and fine as he concentrates on outwitting the Paladins and stealing Voltron
    • but then you miss your period

anonymous asked:

are there any other drarry fics you'd rec (btw temptation on the warfront is one of my favs)

(I’m going through my saved fics, so it might be long - I have 150+ saved lol but I’ll post a link to all the ones I can remember that are really good. Please read the tags before just in case there’s something you might not like! p.s. the ones with a star are my faves - I’ve lots)

A Piercing Comfort by talithan - ( When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy’s patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he’s no longer sure he wants to). ✨

A Private Reason for This by Femme (femmequixotic) - ( When the wife of a star politician in the Scottish Ministry turns up dead just outside Hogsmeade, Draco Malfoy and his murder investigation team are called in from the Edinburgh Auror force to find her killer. What DCI Malfoy doesn’t expect, however, is to have an ex from two decades past end up in his murder room, endangering not only his case, but also his heart).

A Hand Reaching Out by thethaumas - ( After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoys are put on trial. Draco must adjust to a reality where the things he grew up knowing to be truths, are wrong, and learn how to live with the lasting damage the trauma he lived through left behind. He quickly learns that thinking of Potter’s hand reaching out to save him from the fire can help keep the panic at bay, but for how long? A story about coping, growing, and learning how to trust oneself).

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl - ( Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go). ✨✨✨

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound - (Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on). ✨

Annus Mirabilis by Ren - (Harry and Malfoy are trapped at Hogwarts around the time the school was founded. Stuck with a different way of doing magic, with no chocolate, and with each other, they have to find a way to work together if they want a chance to go home). 

Any Instrument by dicta_contrion - (Draco Malfoy wouldn’t go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can’t control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify). ✨

Azoth by zeitgeistic (faire_weather) - (This series is technically complete but I may (or may not) add more one shots to it as inspiration strikes). ✨

Bond by AnnaFugazzi ✨

I’m cutting here because there’s A LOT of fics. I’ll add all of them here so it’ll be a big list. Everything else will be under the cut 

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pillow talk

a/n: my first attempt at some ryder x liam! i had this headcanon for some time, and really had to get it down on paper. hope you guys enjoy :)

ao3, for those of you who prefer.

Amelia learns pretty quickly that Liam is horrible to share a bed with.

She supposes she should have seen it coming. The signs were all there. He’s almost constantly either moving or talking, always doing something. In combat, he jumps right in, not afraid of taking harsh blows and getting in close. And then there was the time she stumbled upon him passed out with half his body falling off his suspicious dorm room couch. She thought that maybe sleeping in — well — a bed would tame that a bit.

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Our love isn’t the kind they make movies about or write about in books. It isn’t the red hot burning desire and passion that society tells us is what love looks like. Our love isn’t like that because our love is real. They don’t write stories about love like ours because love like ours isn’t always pretty; it isn’t perfect; it isn’t the kind of love that people search for their whole lives. 

Our love is binge watching Lost until it’s so late we can barely keep our eyes open,
And our love is falling asleep in the middle of an episode with my head in your lap.
Our love is crying on the phone at two in the morning because I’m afraid you’ll forget me after being apart for so long,
And our love is you telling me you could never forget me.
Our love is going to the gym together, constantly competing to see who can run the farthest on the treadmill,
And our love is not letting it become a competition and always encouraging and pushing one another to do our best.
Our love is being jealous of your ex because I think she’s prettier, and I’m afraid she’ll steal you away from me,
And our love is you reminding me that I’m yours now, and you only love me.
Our love is talking about life over an ice cream sundae that you bought for us in the middle of the night,
And our love is you always offering me the last bite even though I’ll say you can have it, but you’ll politely decline, and I’ll end up eating it anyway.
Our love is throwing up all over you and crying because I’m so embarrassed about it,
And our love is you telling me it’s okay and still being able to smile at me when my lunch is all over your chest.
Our love is getting high in the woods and then trying to hide our glassy eyes and far off gazes from your roommates,
And our love is making out on your bed and having to pause every now and then because I can’t contain my giggling.
Our love is accidentally knocking over the plants that you worked so hard on and trying to get the dirt out of the carpet before you come back,
And our love is you forgiving me because you know it was an accident and putting them back in the pots anyway.
Our love is squeezing to fit with you on the twin size bed in your dorm room and falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat,
And our love is waking up the next morning sore and restless, but happy because the first thing I get to see is your face.
Our love is breaking up with me and begging me to say something, anything, but I can’t because all I can think about is how empty my life will be without you,
And our love is saying you’re sorry and that you love me the next day and crying as you tell me that you’ll never leave me again.
Our love is crying in my car over a pizza with my ex because I’m afraid I’ve lost you,
And our love is telling me you’re still mine and I could never lose you.
Our love is getting the wrong lid for my coffee on our first date and desperately trying in vain to fit it on my cup without you noticing, but you saw and were trying to hide a smile,
And love is driving downtown back to the little coffee shop where it all happened and reliving it over and over again.
Our love is misunderstanding one another and arguing over a problem that doesn’t even exist,
And our love is being able to say ‘I’m sorry’ because we refuse to let something so insignificant come between us.
Our love is arguing over who gets to control the aux cord because you like rap, and I like pop punk,
And our love is memorizing your favorite songs so I can surprise you the next time it comes on by singing along to it with you.
Our love is being unsure if we can overcome our differences and stay together,
And our love is realizing that our differences shouldn’t drive us apart, but that we should learn and grow from them. 
Our love is blowing up your phone constantly looking for reassurance that you still want to be with me,
And our love is you putting up with me anyway and telling me that I don’t need to worry and that you love me.
Our love is making love in the middle of the day with the shades closed and you constantly shushing me because you’re roommates might hear,
And our love is lying in bed afterwards, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Our love is the good and the bad,
the beautiful times we share and the heartache when we’re apart,
the nights of passionate love and the nights of passionate screaming and crying,
the moments when it feels like we’ll be together forever, and the moments when it feels like everything is falling apart,
the times we tell each other “I love you” and the times we’re too proud to say it, even though we both know it’s still true.

Our love is far from perfect, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t trade those sleepless nights and tear-soaked pillow cases for anything else in the world because I’d rather be crying over you than forcing a smile for someone else.

—  the words written on my heart // where-words-fail
Follow You Anywhere (Drake x MC)

[A little note: I wanted to toy around with a story of drunk Robyn, but then that idea turned into something else. Something kind of long and hopefully fun!]

[Summary: Another night outside the manor nearly lands MC (Robyn) in trouble. But Drake’s quick thinking gets them out out of it.]

Word Count: 2,666.

Robyn had lost her shoes.

They were still inside her hands, as she gathered her skirts and came across another hall. However, the moment she was face to face with a disgruntled security guard, she knew they were out of luck and whatever contingency plan she had been planning fumbled as the man glared arrogantly at her.

How had a night of drinking turn into this?

She knew pinpointing the exact moment it had all gone wrong was probably sometime after the rounds of whiskey. Maxwell and Hana were interested in some adventure and Drake had been sordid about the idea until the sixth round. Robyn had been the one to come up with the idea - and the trip here was sealed the moment they grabbed a cab. 

Maybe it was her decision making that had gotten her into this. 

But now that she was here - inside one of Cordonian’s most prestigious museums; their night of having a complete and private viewing had gone awry the moment she had stumbled too far from the rest of her friends. 

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I loved your t'stuckony soulmate story!!! It was amazing. I listened to Paper Hearts by the Vamps during the last two parts and I think it fits the story really well!! One of my favorite songs and now one of my favorite fics. Thank you for sharing!!!

Now why you got and tell me that? All I’m imagining after listening to that song is another soulmate au but instead of names it’s paper hearts. Someone can write a little heart note and let it release in the wind and by fate the paper always, always, ends up in their soulmate’s path.

Like picture tiny Tony writing little heart notes with little sayings like “i’m happy and i hope u r 2!” and let’s it fly in the wind. Depending on your ship it can end with small skinny Steve (for stony), baby Bucky (for winteriron), or one at a time for both (Stuckony, making these one hell of confusing conversations) or all the way in Africa with tiny T’Challa (for ironpanther) or whichever ship you prefer. And no matter the person they see this cute little note and just smile, clutching it close. They write back “i am really happy” with a little drawing of them smiling and let the wind pick it up. 

Like the wind is a sentient being who knows which person belongs with which it sends it with little disturbances. 

Then little Tony grows up and stops writing all together because Howard kicked the idea of soulmates right out of him. “Writing is for children. You’re a grown man, act like it!” 

And yet whoever is his soulmates keep writing to him until eventually they stop, too, because he won’t respond. 

Tony saves all those little notes up until they stop. Hangs them in a private room where no one will see. 

And the only reason his soulmate(s) even find him is because he ends up writing an address in a little heart-shaped sticky note (a gag gift from whichever best friend he has) and the wind ends up blowing it away right out of his hand. The little note ends up with his soulmate and they see the address and they realize they’re close! Their soulmate has finally written back and wants to meet! So they rush to the address, winded out of their minds, but soon find that even though they’re in the same place (restaurant or cafe?) as their soulmate, they have no idea who it is? Desperate they ask anyone who has a heart-shaped piece of paper so they can write to their soulmate (cute and sometimes convinient form of communication when there’s no signal). One of the workers offer up a piece and everyone watches as the soulmate writes the note.

Letting the wind pick up the note is always such a wondrous thing so no one misses watching it if they can help it. They all smile as they let it go right outside of the door and stare confusingly when they see the piece of paper swoop right inside instead and land directly in front of Tony. 

Tony is left gobsmacked while their soulmate grins in rising hope. 

Cue either fluff, angst, happy ending or rejection. Whatever you want. 

Thanks, nonnie. What have you done? 

Kaiba and Yami no Yugi at Alcatraz: As a Friend

Is Yu-Gi-Oh! a story about a bunch of teenage kids who happen to play a card game?  Or is it a story told through its card games?  One thing I love about Yu-Gi-Oh! Is the way the duels do their fair share of carrying the story.

I think this is especially true for Kaiba.  He communicates through his cards.  From Death-T onwards, Kaiba frames the duels he participates in and observes as a test of competing philosophies.  He uses duels to help him understand what he needs to do to move forward and to gauge whether he’s on the right track to reach his goals.  Yami no Yugi matches him in this belief – and that turns their duel at Alcatraz into an increasingly urgent conversation and debate about all the things Kaiba is struggling with in his life in his drive to reach the future he wants.  

Kaiba is very clear about the stakes in this duel.

One of the things that makes Kaiba so heartbreaking is that he recognizes that something is wrong… he knows that as much as he desperately wants a future that’s different from his past, something inside himself keeps preventing him from grasping it.  To his enormous credit, Kaiba doesn’t shy away from or dismiss this realization.  Instead he embraces it with a sincerity that’s obvious no matter how wrong headed (and at times jaw-droppingly inappropriate) each extravagant plan becomes.

Unlike most of the characters –  and much of the fandom – Yami never suggests that there is anything maladaptive (not to mention flat-out ridiculous) about the deadly earnestness with which Kaiba approaches his duels or the deep emotional stakes he places on them.  If anything, Yami more than matches him in this regard, and it is this shared belief in their duels and their cards that makes their matches so charged.

Alcatraz is Kaiba’s duel, the duel that he has pursued with increasing desperation throughout Battle City and Yami allows Kaiba to define its meaning. 

At one point in his life,  Kaiba needed every single destructive quality – his anger, his hatred, his refusal to trust anyone or consider  any point of view but his own – to survive… only to have those same qualities end up being the very things preventing him from reaching the future he wants.  And it becomes painfully obvious he’s trying to use the weapons he honed under Gozaburo to escape his adoptive father’s influence, because that’s all he knows.  

This can’t work.  And some part of Kaiba knows this.  He’s said or thought at least twice when with Yami that winning only provides temporary relief.  He even acknowledges that scoring a direct victory over Gozaburo didn’t help bring the changes he’d hoped for.  

But because aggression, competition and winning is all he knows, Kaiba keeps chasing after another, purer victory, one that will finally work.  Yami recognizes the futility of what Kaiba is doing, and tries, with increasing urgency, to knock Kaiba off a path that is never going to lead to the destination he wants.  

There’s a reason that this duel is titled “As a Friend.”  Yami is acting as a friend here, trying to help Kaiba reach his own goals.  And you can feel Yami’s frustration at Kaiba’s single-minded insistence in following a course that Yami can see is going nowhere – as well as his determination to prove to Kaiba he needs to find a better way in a confrontation that has turned painful for them both.  

But words aren’t going to do it and Yami knows that. Kaiba is someone who has been lied to and manipulated throughout his entire life, someone who has been abandoned, betrayed or abused by every single person that he should have been able to expect help from.  He’s never going to believe in mere words.  But Kaiba does put his faith in duels and their outcomes.   So Yami speaks to Kaiba in the language that Kaiba himself has chosen for this conversation; he speaks to Kaiba through his cards.   

A lot of attention, and rightly so, has been placed on the importance of Jounouchi’s Red Eyes Black Dragon card and the way it gives Yami the victory, but the one that gets to me is the Spell card that sets up that win.  Yami has spent the entire duel trying to tell Kaiba that his own anger and hatred are strangling his future before it can be born.  And then Yami underscores this message in the only way he can, the only way that has a chance of getting Kaiba to listen.

Kaiba has build his dragons into an unstoppable force; they are the expression of his rage and hatred.  Yami cries out passionately, trying to get through to Kaiba that he’s trapping himself within his own hatred in his search for freedom, that instead of deliberately feeding his anger until it swallows everything else, Kaiba must, for his own sake, find a way to defuse it instead.

And then…  this is the card Yami plays against Kaiba’s ultimate dragon, the ultimate expression of Kaiba’s anger.


He plays a card that’s literally named De-fusion.

It’s not often a duel has a mic drop moment, but for me, this is it.

And as much as Kaiba lashes out at Yami, he also returns again and again throughout the rest of Alcatraz to consider the meaning of both this duel and Yami’s subsequent one against Malik – and ultimately Kaiba comes to accept their message.

I think it’s significant that Kaiba’s reflection on his duel with Yami ends with a rare, genuine smile.

whitegirlinasia  asked:

This is not so much a question as a request. I want to see a being vs. perception post. Example, what it feels like to be ENTP vs how others see you. What it's like to be an ISTJ vs the common perceptions of ISTJ. I'm down for a post by type or dominant function. If you were up for an epic post, how each type perceives each type. I'll leave the methods and format to you. I love this blog. Thanks in advance.

Good idea. I’ll open the floor for submissions.

ENFP Being: I feel like a direwolf… a wild, untamed thing that will never quite fit in anywhere because it sees what others do not and does not always want to conform to what society demands. I read into things, all the time. Someone does not answer me as promptly as they usually do? Something is wrong. Or they are upset with my last e-mail. I construct ideas on what is going on, what their motives might be, and how to respond instead of just asking. I tend to float in an intangible realm of half-formed thoughts until things occur to me, or click into place, and then I share them.

I waver between being incredibly driven with my personal projects, and wanting to get things done, and astounding levels of total laziness in that anything I have zero interest in, I will show no ambition toward doing or finishing. I often come up with innovative ways to speed a process along just so I’m not stuck in boring, menial tasks. I do not consider myself that interesting, unusual, or innovative, but it seems like my entire drive is intelligent conversation and stimulus. I crave good conversation, intense analysis, depth of discussion. I am both open and easily changeable in my ideas and semi-resistant to them, since it means re-shifting my internal assumptions.

I hold onto a few old concepts and ideas out of sentiment, and because without them there is no truth, no reason, nothing solid; everything in abstract reality, every tradition and belief is compiled of tradition more than truth. If you take them all away, I have no foundation, and the thought that I know nothing more than an accumulation of centuries of other people’s assumptions that form the basis of my faith, my understanding, and my expectations is both at once satisfying (because it offers a blank slate on which to build anew) and terrifying (because how can I find moral truths if culture simply decides truth?).

I experience these kinds of intense abstract thoughts all the time, though I almost never share them with others. I drift between relentless idealism in my desire to see the world improve and others reach their full potential, and total annoyance at my inability to accept reality for what it is – I push away from things that threaten my idealism while at the same time being drawn to the darker aspects of humanity and reality. I feel inwardly intense, often self-critical and irritated that I am not more of an achiever, or bolder, or struggle to keep interest in things once I have explored their potential. I’m not sentimental 99% of the time, but … I get used to having things the same, and wallow in it, fearful nothing will ever change while not being proactive in changing it.

How others see me: Sarcastic and irreverent, but also moralizing and strong-willed. Changeable and inconsistent, with different points of view – some people find me “intense,” and others find me “comfortable to be with.” Some think I am bossy and no-nonsense; a few find me intimidating; others would say I don’t assert myself enough and am conflict-adverse. Others find me hilarious, withdrawn, or intellectual.

The perception of ENFP: is a happy go lucky cheerleader who drops everything to travel the world, who falls in love easily, or is always cheerful, who is full of new ideas they never follow through on and is irresponsible, always late, and overly emotional. It doesn’t fit me. I’m more inclined toward angst or melancholy than I am to cheer people on; I am not a globe-trotter and spend most of my time at home (but if I cannot socialize online or with family, I get tired and crabby); I tend to have ideas here and there, but choose one, focus on growing and developing it (allowing other ideas to present themselves as the project takes gradual shape) and then finish it before I move on to another project. I’m responsible, always twenty minutes early or on time, and prone to bouts of sarcasm to cover up my feelings. I’m not easily insulted.

Your turn. I’d like to see one for each type.

anonymous asked:

May I ask for a Shukita fic where Yusuke takes care of Akira who needs some TLC please

“don’t get me wrong,” ryuji says, tipping the chair back so it balances precariously on two legs. “but our leader is kind of weird, isn’t he?” 

“huh? what makes you say that?” ann asks. “not saying i’m agreeing, of course!” makoto peers up from her book to gaze curiously at ryuji, silent for now but clearly ready to jump in.

“i’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing!” already on the defensive; it seems ryuji can be self-aware sometimes. “just- has he ever talked about his hometown to you guys? his old friends or his family or anything?”

ann’s brow furrows and she raises a finger to tap her chin. “you know, i can’t recall….”

her response is enough to give ryuji motivation to continue. he leans forward, his hands curled into fists. “right?! and isn’t it weird that he’s here in the first place? if i got sued, my mom wouldn’t let me out of her sight! but that guy’s parents just shipped him off to live with a total stranger!”

“maybe his parents aren’t around often? they could travel for work, you know. mine were the same way.”

“yeah but- right there! you still talked about them!” 

“he probably has a reason for not talking about his past,” makoto speaks up, closing her book and placing it on the table. “we shouldn’t speculate.”

ryuji looks as though he wants to protest, but before he can open his mouth akira is finally walking in with morgana perched on his shoulder. yusuke thinks idly of how easy it would be to tap his foot against one of the legs of those chair, how effortlessly he could make ryuji fall back. this gossiping feels wrong. 

yet now that the fact is pointed out, yusuke can’t stop thinking about it. he’ll drop mentions of madarame, clear openings for akira to relate with an anecdote of his own, yet there’s nothing. akira keeps the conversation focused on yusuke, manipulating the subject to remain off of himself. akira is reminiscent of a blank canvas, coming to life only after being touched by the brush of the metaverse and big city. frustratingly, he refuses to open up unprompted.

yusuke isn’t a fan of blank canvases on principle, so he decides to do something about this. he shows up early on sunday morning without a warning text; sojiro is accustomed to seeing him by now and knows his order, leaving yusuke alone with a cup of coffee to wait until akira awakens. as usual akira seems to take his time waking up; it’s late morning by the time he emerges downstairs, his hair as disheveled as always. he’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt this time, which is a new look for him. 

he pauses when he spots yusuke though, murmuring a greeting to sojiro as he goes to yusuke.

“good morning,” he greets, sliding a hand in his pocket.

“good morning,” yusuke replies. “i’m not interrupting any plans, am i?” 

akira shakes his head. “i was just going to the batting cages. did you have anything in mind?” 

“i’ll accompany you,” yusuke says as he slips out of the booth. akira shrugs, half-turning so he can tell sojiro he’ll be back later. yusuke thanks him for the coffee, and together he and akira leave cafe leblanc.

“are you even into baseball?” akira asks once the door is shut. 

“that’s the one with sticks, right?” choosing to ignore akira’s wary look, yusuke says, “i had no idea you played.”

“i don’t, really. just when i have some downtime.” a response, but not enough of one to give yusuke any real information. 

“are you any good?” he presses. 

“i’m alright.” a shrug. “i’m a bit rusty.”

finally, yusuke thinks. “you used to play?” 

a nod, but rather than offering anything else akira asks, “what’s with all the questions?”

“i- is it that obvious?” another nod. yusuke chuckles. “it was brought to my attention that you don’t share many details about your personal life. you know so much about me, but all i know about you is you have a criminal record. i realize i don’t like knowing so little about you. i’d like to learn more about you.”

is it just his imagination, or akira’s cheeks a bit redder now than before? the shorter male runs a hand through his hair, sheepishly avoiding yusuke’s eyes.

“that’s really about it,” akira tells him. “my background really isn’t that interesting.”

“so tell me, then,” yusuke insists. he doubts akira anyway; for someone so brazen in his actions and fearless in his decisions, he has been known to underplay his own accomplishments. what he may think of as boring is probably anything but. 

akira stops, putting a hand on his hip and facing yusuke fully. “let’s go the convenience store instead, then. we can pick up some snacks and go back to leblanc’s.” at yusuke’s guilty look, he adds, “my treat.”

“very well,” yusuke nods. “i promise to pay you back.” 

they settle in akira’s room, both in their usual chairs and with a bag of chips on the table before them. yusuke listens as akira talks about his hometown and playing baseball, of his parents going through a nasty divorce and neither of them wanting akira (he looks too much like his mother, his dad said; he takes after his father, his mom said), of never quite fitting in at school because he never could relate to his classmates.

“i understand,” yusuke says softly, because he knows how it feels to stand out due to circumstances outside of his control. he thinks of class projects and being invited to groups not for his company or personality but for his talent. his classmates talk about subjects yusuke has no idea about, let alone any ability to relate to, and that feeling of isolation. he thinks now of the slight jealousy he feels that he is the one to not go to shujin, and he contemplates later how he believes akira feels like an outsider within the group as well, elevated to a higher plane simply for being the leader.

akira smiles gently. “yeah,” he agrees just as quietly. “i know you do.”

isaacdingle  asked:

i wish you'd write a fic where robert & liv bond over something (or just give me any rob & liv i'm kinda thinking like the hug scene when aaron went to prison u feel but u can also make it fluffy if you want and i'm gonna stop talking now)

clearly i only read the first part of your message and decided something sad and angsty was appropriate i am v sorry but i hope you like it all the same!!

Robert set one of the mugs of tea he was carrying down in front of Liv, giving her a kind smile. “I thought you could do with a cup,” he admitted as she gave him a confused look, knees hugged to her chest as she sat on one of the kitchen chairs, staring into the distance.

“Thank you,” Liv said, in that unfamiliar, quiet voice he and Aaron had heard a lot more of over the past year. She was still an absolute firecracker, still causing trouble and wreaking havoc on the village with Gabby and Noah in tow, but she had her quiet, thoughtful moments now, the moments tinged with a sadness Robert knew all too well himself.

Robert didn’t say anything for a second, letting Liv take a few sips of her tea, hoping that the hot drink would help her relax a bit. It was no use forcing her to talk, they’d learned that well enough in the years she’d been living with him and Aaron.

“Is it always going to feel like this?” Liv asked quietly, her voice cracking mid sentence. “Like I’m never going to stop missing her, like there’s always going to be this empty ache in my chest?”

Robert thought for a second, before he replied, trying to find the right words. “I used to wonder if I’d ever feel happy again, after my mum died. I couldn’t imagine ever being happy in a world that she wasn’t in,” he began, setting his cup of tea down on Liv’s bedside locker.

“Do you still feel like that?”

“Sometimes.” Robert admitted, knowing it was better to be honest with her. “It’s mostly on special days now, you know? Like on her birthday, or Christmas, days I’d wish she was here.”

Liv nodded in understanding. “Yeah.”

“The first year is the hardest.” Robert continued, hating the tears that welled up in Liv’s eyes as he spoke. “It is, it’s the hardest one. It’s the first time you’ve got to spent a birthday, or Christmas, or New Year without them. You’ve made it through the first year, that counts for a lot, you know?”

“So it’ll get easier?”

Robert swallowed thickly, tears welling in his own eyes as he thought about his mum, his dad, all the people he’d lost in own life, how he managed to keep going without them. “You’re going to have bad days. You’re going to have days like today when you miss them constantly, I’m not going to lie to you and say you’ll stop feeling like this one day. My mum died nearly seventeen years ago now, and I still have those days - they don’t happen as often anymore though.”

Liv nodded, roughly rubbing at her eyes. “We never even really got on, when she was alive, not like you and your mum.”

Robert shifted so he was sitting a bit more comfortably, giving her a sympathetic look. “My dad and I never got on, not really. That doesn’t mean I can’t miss him, miss the years I didn’t get to have with him. Whatever happened, she was your mum. She is your mum, and you can grieve for her forever, if you want to.”

Liv shook her head, her face flush with tears she was refusing to cry. “I don’t want to feel like this forever,” she admitted. “Is that horrible? I want to feel happy again, get on with my life. Does that make me a terrible daughter?”

“It makes you human, Liv.” Robert nudged. “It’s hard, being the people left behind when someone dies. You can’t be expected to be sad forever. That doesn’t mean you love your mum any less, of course it doesn’t. I’m happy, doesn’t mean I don’t love, or miss my mum. It just means I’m doing her proud by having a happy life - that’s all your mum would want for you too.”

Liv gave him a watery smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Aaron tries, but…”

“I know, he doesn’t understand how it feels to lose your mum.” Robert finished for her. Aaron had known grief in his life, god knows he’d known his fare share, but losing your mum was different.

It hurt in a different way.

“So it’s going to get easier?” Liv asked, hopeful.

Robert nodded. “You won’t realise it’s gotten easier until it does,” he tried to explain, tried to put into words how it had felt to realise the constant thrum of loss in his heart had faded to a dull ache, overshadowed by the love he was surrounded with in his life. “It’ll get easier because you’ve got so many people in your life who love you, yeah? You’ve got Aaron, and me, and Chas, and Vic and Adam. I know we’re not your mum, and none of us are trying to replace her - but we’re your family.”

“I know.” Liv set her mostly drank mug of tea down, her long hair done up in intricate braids, all Victoria’s doing. Robert loved his own sister half to death all the time, but the way she’d stepped up to be a big sister to Liv over the past year, well - he knew just how proud their parents would be.

Victoria had been an orphan most of her life, had parents for even less time than Robert had, and regardless of how great Diane was, she knew what Liv was going through, knew how it felt. She’d been fifteen when Jack had died, the same age Liv had been when Sandra hadn’t made it through her accident.

Complications from her head injuries, painless in the end, an aneurysm killing her while she’d slept in a hospital in Mauritius.

“Come here,” Robert said, holding out his arms, Liv giving him a half hearted eye roll before she cuddled close to him, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Robert couldn’t help but rock her back and forth, as if she was a child, not sixteen and more grown up than she ever should have had to be. “I love you, okay? And if you need to talk, I’m always here, and Aaron is - and Vic. You’ve got so many people here that love the bones of ya.”

Liv nodded, her tears soaking into the thin material of Robert’s t-shirt, finally letting go of the upset she’d been carrying around with her all day. She’d gone to Sandra’s grave alone that morning, her mum having been buried in Emmerdale, Liv wanting her close.

Robert had convinced Aaron to give her a bit of space, his husband reluctant to agree, but sometimes, on days like today, all you needed was time to clear your head before you needed your family, needed your brother.


Robert understood it more than most, understood how it felt to lose your mum before you’d gotten to love her for long enough, fifteen and feeling alone in the world.

“I’m here,” he mumbled softly, glancing over his shoulder to see Aaron standing in the doorway. “So is Aaron,” he added, his husband taking that as his cue to enter the room, a sad expression on his face.

“Come to join our cuddle?” Liv managed to joke, her cheeks blotchy with tears.

Aaron smiled, clambering onto Liv’s tiny single bed with them, pressing a chin to Liv’s shoulder as he hugged her and Robert close, wrapping them both up in those strong arms of his, arms that were home for Robert, and Liv.

Their little family of three.


Read on AO3

Alright, this is my second (my apology gift, really, it’s over 5000 words of fluff) for Shay, in which I attempt to tackle one of her favorite tropes (characters A and B have to stay at a hotel and there’s only one room with one bed)

once again - thanks to @the-musical-alchemist​ for listening to me flip out about how to write this, I appreciate it always, Gio ;-;

I said it already, but I’ll say it again - Shay, you’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met, simply because of who you are - you’re always kind, passionate, thoughtful, and are extremely talented and witty.  In short, you’re just incredibly wonderful.  Thank you so much for being you, and have the happiest birthday possible.  Hey, now you can rent a car and come visit me!!!

“Are you kidding me,” Roy grumbles, tightening his grasp on his small bag as he stomps his snow-packed boots on the porch of the building.  “Of course Grumman sends us to the most remote town, in the dead of winter, splits up our team, and gets us reservations in what has to be the absolute filthiest looking place I’ve ever seen.”

“Relax, sir,” Riza responds.  She flexes her frozen hands to try to regain feeling in her numb fingertips as she switches her bag from left to right.  “You’ve seen the rest of this town; the entire place just doesn’t have a lot of money.  I’m sure the inside is nicer.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” he retorts.  Riza sighs at his snarky-tone, but doesn’t challenge him, knowing that the last thing that she needed was to argue with her superior officer when they were both cold, hungry, and exhausted.

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I did it all for love

olicity hiatus fic-a-thon | prompt: at odds
au. best friends reuniting after college
rated T. 2634 words 

tagging: @scu11y22 @felicityollies @misaralullaby @maryhn @ladyimara @felicityschattycathy @tjmartinez98 @lovethishealthylife @theirhappystory @lucyyh @muslimsmoak @thebookjumper @malafle (if you wanna be tagged/untagged, let me know :)

It’s unnerving.

Like an itch under the surface of her skin, making her feel uneasy, off.

It’s not like this is the first time they’ve had an argument, being best friends for so long. Lord knows how easily they’ve riled each other up through the years. How often she’d had to snap him out of the loop of self-destruction he’d dived into during his senior year, right after she’d moved out. How frank and forward he’d been through Skype and phone calls –once college kept them further apart– teasing her to no end while also throwing the truth on her face; things she didn’t want to hear but desperately needed to.

In each case they’d quarrel away and sometimes use their loud voices, which always led to weighty pauses or days offline; only then they’d come back together again. Always.

This time, however, feels different.

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The Last Five Years - Sentence Starters
  • [name] is over and [name] is gone.
  • I'm still hurting.
  • What about things that you swore to be true?
  • Go and hide and run away!
  • Run away, run and find something better.
  • Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn.
  • I've been waiting for someone like you.
  • I've been standing for days with the phone in my hand like an idiot, scared to death.
  • My people have suffered for thousands of years and I don't give a shit!
  • I guess I can't believe you really came.
  • See, I'm smiling--That means I'm happy that you're here.
  • I think we're gonna be okay.
  • With all we've had to go through, we'll end up twice as strong.
  • I didn't know you had to go so soon.
  • We'll have tonight.
  • You know what makes me crazy?
  • I'm sorry, can I say this?
  • You could be here with me or be there with them - as usual, guess which you pick.
  • You can't spend a single day that's not about you and you and nothing but you!
  • I swear to God I'll never understand how you can stand there straight and tall and see I'm crying, and not do anything at all.
  • Things are moving too fast.
  • I won't do anything just half-assed.
  • I met my personal Aphrodite.
  • I'm feeling panicked and rushed and hurried.
  • I'm so happy I can't get worried.
  • Next day it's just like it never happened.
  • And then he smiles - his eyes light up and how can I complain?
  • Yes, he's insane, but look what he can do.
  • I tend to follow in his stride instead of side by side.
  • I said I'd stick it out and follow through.
  • I'm a part of that...aren't I?
  • Maybe your heart's completely swayed, but your head can't follow through.
  • Don't you think that now's a good time to be the ambitious freak you are?
  • You get to be happy!
  • Take a breath, take a step, take a chance - take your time.
  • Have I mentioned today how lucky I am to be in love with you?
  • I'm sharing a room with a "former" stripper and her snake: Wayne.
  • I could shove an ice pick in my eye, I could eat some fish from last July, but it wouldn't be as awful as [fill in what you wish].
  • He wants me, he wants me, but he ain't gonna get me.
  • Son of a bitch, I guess I'm doing something right!
  • 'Cause the torture is just exquisite while I'm waiting for you to visit.
  • We should go meet the dinosaurs.
  • Will you share your life with me for the next ten minutes?
  • There are so many lives I want to share with you.
  • But if you can just wait I will make it eventually.
  • Not like I'm proud of the fact.
  • I want to be your wife, I want to bear your child, I want to die knowing I had a long, full life in your arms.
  • Will you share your life with me for the next ten lifetimes?
  • There are so many dreams I need to see with you.
  • There are so many years I need to be with you.
  • Everyone tells you that the minute you get married every other woman in the world suddenly finds you attractive.
  • And all of a sudden, this pair of breasts walks by and smiles at you and you're like - "That's not fair!"
  • In a perfect world a miracle would happen.
  • I shouldn't care what she thinks since I can't fuck her anyway!
  • Don't despair, I'll be there.
  • I am a good person!
  • Stop looking at that, look at me.
  • Jesus Christ, I suck, I suck, I suck, I suck.
  • I will not be the girl who requires a man to get by.
  • Can we please for a minute stop blaming and say what you feel?
  • Did you think this would all be much easier than it's turned out to be?
  • If I didn't believe in you, we'd never have gotten this far.
  • Don't we get to be happy at some point down the line?
  • If I'm cheering on your side, why can't you support mine?
  • No one can give you courage.
  • I will not lose because you can't win.
  • He wouldn't leave me alone 'less I went with him to dinner.
  • I guess he was good in bed.
  • He blew me off with a heartfelt letter.
  • I can do better than that.
  • You don't have to change a thing, just stay with me.
  • I want you and you and nothing but you.
  • I don't want to throw up your walls and defenses.
  • It feels like my life led right to your side and will keep me there from now on.
  • Think of what's past, because we can do better.
  • Hey, kid - good morning. You look like an angel.
  • I don't remember when we fell asleep.
  • Nobody needs to know.
  • Come back to bed, kid.
  • Hold on, don't cry yet.
  • I won't let you go.
  • Maybe I could be in love with someone like you.
  • Goodbye until tomorrow.
  • I have been waiting for you.
  • I'm not the only one who's hurting here.
  • I don't know what the hell is left to do.
  • I could never rescue you.
  • All I could do was love you hard and let you go.
  • So we could fight, or we could wait, or I could go...
  • I didn't see a way we both could win.
  • Goodbye.
Malec Fanfic WIPs Appreciation Post!

Because I believe these fanfics deserve more attention for the simple reason that they are so good and so well written. And yes, these are WIPs. I know most of you don’t like it, but I really suggest to check them out. They are worth it.  Most of these are just beggining but just with the first chapter, they get you hooked.

And so the time goes … by Nylita (7/?)

He should have never returned.
He knew it was a mistake the second he set foot in the Institute.
Valentine is still at large, slaughtering Downworlders by the hour, and here he was, coming back to the very place he’d sworn to avoid.

Magnus Bane has returned after seventeen months, only to come face to face with the person he’d specifically avoided for those seventeen months in the first ten minutes of being back.

Whomever said hell didn’t exist on earth had obviously never had the chance to meet Alexander Lightwood.

Child of the Heart by @theravennest (8/?)

When Iris Rouse’s warlock-human trafficking ring was brought down and he had rescued the young warlock, Madzie, from Valentine’s clutches, Magnus was faced with a difficult choice. What to do with a girl with so much hurt and so much fear, yet with so much power at her beck and call? No one seemed fit to take her but himself and yet was he ready for such an undertaking? Was Alec? Magnus has to come to a decision soon but whatever his choice, it would affect three lives in ways he could not anticipate.

Controlled Love Story by Jacklyne (2/?)

Alec and Clary were madly in love and nothing, not even Alec’s evil Warlock ex or Clary’s overly attached former brother, could come between their love.

That is, until they realize they’ve been the main characters in a love story where Alec is painfully heterosexual and forced to love Clary.

(aka. the “why the fuck is someone writing us as love interests in a poorly written fanfic” au)

Fledge by xLyrael (5/?)

If there is one thing Magnus knows for certain, it’s that the Lightwoods are nothing but trouble. This is further cemented as fact when he opens his door one morning only to have a child shoved into his arms with blood running down his back and Maryse Lightwood of all people begging him for help.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sorry to break some hearts but my brain put even more angst on the end of that fic. Just, if the threats started again and reader got in trouble and now I have the image of Greg crying while she's dying. Just, "I was supposed to protect you. I promised"... Ok.... I'll see myself out. -JM

A/N: You’ve inspired me to write an alternative ending darling! *hysterical evil laughing*

An alternative ending to this one shot- https://imaginedilestrade.tumblr.com/post/160490630033/im-going-to-take-advantage-that-your-requests-are

P.s I’m sorry 😭 not sorry


Greg couldn’t help but smile watching you crack a joke with Donovan and Anderson. Your smile could brighten his day.

He grabbed a pile of important letters he had to read and reply to, he heard you laughing through the walls and let out a laugh himself as he slid his finger under the envelope seal and tore it open, paying more attention to you than the envelope itself. He took out the piece of paper and he felt his whole body go into shock. As if someone had dipped him in freezing water.

Only he would have rather had that than the letter he was holding in is hand. It was all too familiar.

It simply read, ‘You can’t protect Y/N forever’.

“Hey!” Greg didn’t even hear the door open and quickly crumpled the piece of paper up in his hand.

“H-hi!” He nervously stuttered out and you couldn’t help but furrow a suspicious brow.

“What’s that?” You slowly approached his desk.

“Oh nothing, just rubbish” he tried to calmly laugh it off and you nodded understandingly before quickly snatching it off his desk. You ran away from his grasp and opened it “No! Don’t!” Greg pleaded but it was too late, your eyes had already scanned over the words.

“How long?” You asked, trying not to let your nerves show.

Greg let out a defeated sigh “This has been the first”.

You tore it up with a small smile “We’ll get through this Greg,” you tossed the paper into the bin and walked over to a petrified looking Greg “Together this time”. You took his hands in yours and reassuringly squeezed them.

“I promise you,” Greg began looking deep into your eyes “I will protect you and I will always be there for you”. You nodded and wrapped your arms around Greg, he held you tightly as the both of you shared a hug “I love you” he spoke into your neck and it sounded slightly muffled.

“I love you too” you pulled away and gently kissed him, not removing your lips from Greg’s until Anderson disturbed the two of you by awkwardly clearing his throat.

You and Greg pulled away with bashful smiles “I should get back to Baker Street, John asked me to watch Rosie for a couple of hours”. You bid your goodbyes and made it to Baker Street, Sherlock and John left you with Rosie who was sound asleep so you grabbed one of Sherlock’s books that was lying about and made yourself a cup of tea.

Your phone buzzed and you smiled at the screen noticing it was a text from Greg ‘I’m just out of work, five more minutes until I see that beautiful face of yours (if traffic doesn’t hold me up!) x’.

You were about to text back when the front door shut and you stood up “You two are back ear-” your voice disappeared into thin air as you saw an unfamiliar figure standing in front of you with all black clothing and a shabby looking knitted balaclava on.

“He can’t protect you now” he man sneered and lunged forward, you could barley react as you felt a sharp pain spread outwards from your stomach. The man scampered out the flat and our hands shakily pressed against your wound.

You couldn’t move, you could barely register what was happening. You stood on the spot as a tear streamed down your cheek and then you tried to find your phone. You let out a groan that burned your throat as you walked into the kitchen table, your right hand pressing on it to support your body as your left fumbled with your phone and you pressed on John’s number, you considered phoning Greg but he would be driving and almost at Baker Street.

After two rings John picked up “Hello?”

“John get back here. Now” you breathed out and hung up before he could speak.

Just as you tossed your phone away Greg walked through the front door with a large smile spread over his face before it fell seeing the drops of bright red blood on the floor that lead to the kitchen.

“Y/N?” He called out in a shaky voice and turned around, seeing you hunched over the table. He ran to you and wrapped his arms around you just before you fell to the ground, the lack of blood going to your head was making you dizzy.

“It’s….it’s okay” you softly whispered out with a small smile.

“No! It’s not!” Greg cried out as tears streamed down his cheeks “I promised you! A few hours ago I promised to keep you safe! I was supposed to protect you!”

“I know but this isn’t your fault” your voice was barely audible, if you spoke any louder your voice would crack and you’d end up as a blubbering mess in your final moments.

Sherlock and John rushed up the stairs, already having a sense of dread from hearing your voice on the phone. John crouched down beside you as you lay on the flor with Greg still cradling you in his arms. You let out a small yelp as John forcefully pressed both hands on your stomach to compress the bleeding.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” John told Greg and Sherlock “Y/N probably has internal bleeding-”

You cut John off with a cocky smirk “That’s where the blood is supposed to be…”

John let out a broken laugh, wiping away a stray tear that left his eye. You swore you saw Sherlock tearing up too. “John, I’m no doctor but I know…” You weakly trailed off and John sent you a sympathetic smile.

“Know what?” Greg asked as if he was being conspired against. You let out a shaky breath and looked up to Greg as tears splashed on your face “No…” His throat completely closed “No!” He screamed out louder, sending a shockwave of guilt though the flat.

“Greg, please…this isn’t your fault” you tired to relieve some of the guilt he felt but he wouldn’t listen, he was frantically shaking his head as tears spilled from his eyes. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek and he stopped shaking his head.

He placed his hand over yours “This is not your fault,” you weakly spoke out in a stern voice “Okay?” Greg sent you a single nod and you smiled “I love you”.

“I love you too Y/N,” Greg breathed out “Y/N?” He noticed the sparkle in your eyes fade and he screamed out your name in an pained animalistic roar, he desperately tried to wake you by shaking your body but it went limp in his arms.

John asked Sherlock to pull Greg away as the doctor grabbed a blanket to place over you with a heavy heart. The ambulance arrived to take your body away and Greg got into the back of it.

“Why don’t you come with us?” John suggested, he wouldn’t know how Greg would cope being left in the back of the ambulance with your lifeless body.

“No,” Greg groggily replied and glanced over his shoulder to John “I promised I’d always be there”.

Old Anti/Jack/Sean theory

Many of you know about a ‘famous’ YouTube by the name of Jacksepticeye or Sean if you’d rather. I’m here to talk about a theory I made for him and his alter ego Antisepticeye. Before I start let me define Anti’s name. Most people think that Anti’s full name, Antisepticeye, means the same thing as antiseptic which is an anti-bacterial spray or ointment that helps keep cuts and scrapes be cleaned and disinfected. This is not what Anti’s name means. Anti by itself means against, given the order of the words, Anti’s real name would mean ‘against septiceye’. What does Septiceye mean? This is simple…that’s Jack.

You may be confused as to why I say that, it’s because Jack is the original septiceye as he’s the one who started the channel. I understand that septiceye is also Jack’s mascot but I’m speaking about the channel itself and Sam wasn’t made until a few months after the channel was uploading, meaning that Sam is the second septiceye. 

Now, to the main theory. I found an old video from Jack that has some information that helps my theory hold some kind of ground. The video being Jack’s old, and I mean really old video of Raspy Hill.

*play video clip*

Why does that video help me and my theory? Well my theory is what if Jack…isn’t really Jack? I say this because of the video and Anti’s newest glitches.

*there’s meant to be five nights clips and Say Goodbye clips*

Why do I think that Jack isn’t him? Well in the Raspy Hill video it says that “Jacksepticeye has never been seen or heard from since” this got me thinking. What does this mean? I mean, Jack’s here, he’s living a happy life, besides the whole…Anti skirmish…but…the video…it’s just so…bizarre. It’s the first time Anti was introduced albeit without a name, I say that because Anti is beginning to be known for his glitching and that’s what he does here. If Jack went missing after recording Raspy hill and was ‘never seen again’ who is this here with us? The answer? Well it might surprise you…it’s the original Anti!

Hear me out, Anti seems to have originated in a pixelated world or one that is digital, and where does Jack go missing? In a digital world. What if Anti switched lives with Jack all that time ago? What if this 'Anti’ character is the real Jack asking us for help?!? It would explain the Zalgo text in ‘Jack’s Detention video, 'broken spirit…let me out’. Jack’s asking Anti to be let out but he can’t, he’s just too weak right now.

My theory also makes sense as to why 'Anti’ glitches the camera out, after a long time in a digital world some might be able to gain the powers from there. Jack is one of the few who did. (I’m assuming others YouTubers and content creators had gone through the same thing of being trapped in that ‘alternate world’)

This also makes sense of the 'Say Goodbye’ video. Jack was finally let out but after being stuck in that world he got corrupted and can’t think straight. If you think I’m wrong because of the audio and what Anti says- *play Anti audio* -then you’re both right and wrong.

I say this because of the fact that Anti wouldn’t want Jack to be free. If you were the evil version of someone and you hated them wouldn’t you want that person to be gone forever? Anti would claim that he already did some editing but sent it to Robin (Jack’s editor) and claimed he needed help making it even scarier than it was. He had Robin edit out some of Jack’s audio and change it around making it sound like he really was Anti.

Since his (Jack’s) words were taken away and changed, he was upset. He decided to take it into his own hands and make himself known. That’s why he’s still appearing in different videos every now and then. He wants to be heard yet he can’t talk, he hasn’t used his voice that often so it’s very hard to understand.

The good news? As of the creation of this theory…Jack has won, for the time being. He fought a long and hard battle and got his body back but for how long? Quite recently (as of 3-11-17) Anti made a ‘guest’ appearance at Sean/Jack’s panel. Now, Jack wouldn’t want us to worry about anything, that just makes Anti stronger…he and Robin knew that Anti would try to make a comeback. It’s in his code, so to speak. Robin has known about this since day one, after all, wouldn’t you know a change in your boss’s attitude when it first occurs?

They knew about Anti wanting revenge but with Dark coming into the picture? Oh, you know Anti’ll be pissed. He had been trying to gather energy but since Dark is older and has been ‘playing’ less than Anti was, he was able to get into the lime light, the likes of which Anti craves the most. Who do you think will win? Will Jack win or will it go back to how it was before? Share your theories in your reblogs or comments and I’ll be looking through them.

This has been my Antisepticeye/Jacksepticeye theory, NightfuryObsessed, over and out.

(An old theory but it kinda makes sense for what’s happening…kinda)

@therealjacksepticeye @anti-support-group @chase-brody-protection-squad @anti-protection-squad

(I literally had a moment, about two hours ago, where I was like, “the responsible thing to do would be shower and go to sleep, and write the cracky idea in the morning.” Thank god I’m not that mature yet.)

Keyleth hated this mission. The fact that she had self-assigned it did nothing to diminish her hatred. It just left her with only herself to blame.

“Stop pinching your lips like that. It blows your cover as an empty-headed chit.”

Oh, wait, there was definitely someone else to blame.

Keyleth tightened her grip on Ripley’s arm—Anna Ripley, international arms dealer, perennial pain in the Department’s ass, and just this once her partner—and wished Vex was here instead. But the Conclave had caught Vax on camera stealing the Whisper Codex, which meant they’d make Vex as well, and no one else knew Percy’s codes well enough to…coordinate if something went interestingly. (Or to communicate if he was too badly hurt. Or to counter him if—no, Keyleth didn’t believe Raishan’s bullshit message for a second. Percy would never betray them. She just prayed the Deceiver and her cronies hadn’t done anything too horrible to him when they found that out.)

Unfortunately, there was one other person who knew Percy that well, and this was a two-man job. Or two-woman, as the case may be.

They reached the hotel door before Keyleth was ready. Ripley just extended one cool hand to the doorman, with a heavily embossed invitation.

“Dr. Anna Ripley, and guest.” A smirk played on her lips like she knew a joke he didn’t get. Keyleth held still, and tried to smile at him.

The guard scanned the invitation with his phone, waiting until it beeped a confirmation to look back up at them. Keyleth didn’t let herself relax an inch—falsifying the invite had definitely been the easy part of the job.

“I’m afraid I need to get your guest’s name, ma’am,” he said. He was dressed like he worked for the Palazzo he stood in front of, but a discreet five-colored pin on his collar announced the hosts of the party within.

“This is my assistant, Kiki Dawson.” Ripley spoke before Keyleth could open her mouth, and pulled their twined arms a little closer, as if to claim her.

Keyleth smiled at the guard, trying to make her expression fit her dress. It was a low-cut, sleeveless, lime green thing, meant to draw attention to her curving figure and the tattoos swirling over her dark skin. Normally those were just for her, but tonight they had to be part of the costume.

The guard waved them in with only the hint of a lecherous smirk. As soon as they were through the doors), out of sight, Keyleth aimed a heel at her “partner’s” foot. Ripley pulled away just in time.

“Whatever happened to us both being incognito?” Keyleth hissed.

Ripley kept towing her across the lobby, speaking softly but without a hint of doubt. “Wouldn’t have worked. I’ve dealt with the Conclave before, and they don’t like me much. Umbrasyl probably remembers my face, and Raishan certainly does.”

“Then how did we just walk into her party?”

Again, that goddamn smirk. “I phoned ahead and offered to sell her my new missile shield.”

Cabal’s Ruin? Keyleth wanted to say, just to prove that they had broken her security enough to know—but it was too late. They were already at the ballroom doors, and thank god it wasn’t like a ball in fairy tales, where they would be announced at the door, or Keyleth would just about have died.

It was awful enough. There were so many people, milling around in clothing that cost enough to feed a small country, and Keyleth recognized enough of them at a glance to know that they had probably collectively starved several small countries, or would within the year, and wouldn’t care. They were all drinking champagne and making small talk, and around them were a dozen glittering chandeliers and enough gold to bankrupt another, medium-sized country. Not, Keyleth knew, Raishan’s taste—fuck, did that mean Thordak was here, too?

Then again, they did have quite a prize in the vaults below.

She didn’t need Ripley’s nudge to trip against the first waiter she saw, and spill champagne down her very cloth-free front. It was barely even an act.

“Honestly, dear,” said Ripley, sounding more like an irritated schoolmarm than someone who would ever call someone else ‘dear.’ “Do you have the faintest sense of the dignity of an occasion?”

“I am so sorry, ma’ams,” said the waiter. He pointed back towards the lobby door, his own shirt stained gold as well. “There’s a bathroom right out there and to the right, if you need it. Please, let me get you a finer drink as an apology. A rosé? Or we have a fine old Chanteau, put down in 1927.”

“Thank you,” Keyleth said before Ripley could say something snide.

Ripley saved it until they were back in the hallway. “Well, they certainly know we’re here, now.”

“Like we needed them to,” Keyleth snapped back. “Or did you want them wondering why you appeared at the front door and never in the party?”

Ripley just rolled her eyes, and took the lead as they walked—not crept; never look like you don’t want to be caught—down the opulent hallway.

“If you didn’t want to come,” Keyleth hissed, hopping a step to keep up with her, “you didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to let someone else kill—quiet.” Ripley caught her by the arm and pulled her flat against the wall just before a T-intersection.

Keyleth fumbled a compact mirror, very quietly, from her pocket, and angled it stealthily at her side. She caught a glimpse of the same uniform the guard at the door wore—black; Security. Two of them were coming down the intersecting hall.

There wasn’t enough cover here, and they had gone in the opposite direction as the bathrooms. Keyleth glanced at her “partner.”

Ripley already had a pistol in her hand, from where, Keyleth didn’t know. How, she didn’t know. There had been an X-ray weapons scanner carefully concealed in the front door. Keyleth only had a couple shocks stored up in her tazer-bracelets.

Keyleth tugged Ripley’s arm to get her attention, and pointed at the gun. Too much, she mouthed silently.

Silencer, Ripley mouthed back, raising one eyebrow like she was genuinely surprised Keyleth was this stupid.

Bodies, Keyleth replied, because I don’t want to kill random guards just because they get a half-decent paycheck here would be ignored, and was too long, and probably wouldn’t work out anyway.

Then she gave up and, as Security’s footsteps approached, pushed herself over Ripley’s front (hiding the gun) and kissed her on the lips.

She caught the older woman by surprise. Ripley’s mouth was open to retort something else.  Keyleth leaned into it with what she hoped was a convincing moan. Her fists bunched in the fabric of Ripley’s dress—much more modest than her own, but it felt just like it looked, like fabric made of midnight.

Ripley’s arms came up around Keyleth’s shoulders and there were two soft thumps behind her. One of the gods stopped halfway through clearing their throat.

Keyleth pulled away, wiping her mouth, and looked behind her. Both guards were on the ground, a woman with a neat hole in her head and a man gurgling and choking as blood spilled out of his throat. He was trying to reach for the radio on his hip, but his arm twitched uncontrollably.

Ripley stepped around Keyleth and him a second time, a would to match his partner’s. Her gun was perfectly silent.

That wasn’t necessary.” Keyleth felt the bile rising in her throat, and the tears in her eyes, and hated them both. Hated field missions in general and this one in particular, hated every reason that she had to be on it, and hated that she couldn’t handle any of it.

“You are utterly naïve,” Ripley sneered. She peered around the corner for more guards, gun still in her hand. Her carefully coifed bun was mussed from where Keyleth had pushed her against the wall. “The elevator shaft is this way.”


Before Keyleth could finish her insult, the supposedly solid ground shook beneath their feet. Of course, both women knew full-well there was a complete Chroma Conclave facility beneath this building.

It shook again, harder this time, as if the source was moving closer to the surface. A little more to the south, though. There was the faintest echo of an explosion.

“Percival,” Ripley said with a snake-like smile, as Keyleth breathed a relieved, “Percy.”

They both took off running down the hall.

The (Magical) Bet

A/N: Well, this isn’t really done on purpose but since today’s the day that marks the “19 years later” in the Harry Potter books, I thought it could be a good occasion to share this “re-do” of The Bet… Hogwarts-stylez that I wrote!

Thanks again to my beta reader, @bats-supergirl and to @awaywiththeclouds for having re-read this so that I wouldn’t write any complete nonsense about this magical universe I’m not that much familiar with tbh haha.

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

“That’s all right, Miss Santiago. +10 points for Ravenclaw!”

Amy is wearing a huge grin on her face at her professor’s statement when she turns in her chair to look at the person sitting right behind her – her friend from another house, Jake Peralta. She’s got a piece of paper in her hands that she doesn’t wait to show him proudly.

And, as they’re both staring at it, a magical spell the girl casted upon it almost one year ago starts making the Peralta: 69 / Santiago: 67 already written on it suddenly change into a Peralta: 69 / Santiago: 77 without her having to do anything about it more than just look as the changes happen.

“So, Peralta,” she can’t help but tease him, literally glowing. “Who’s winning now, huh?”

“I believe I am,” he answers with a smug smile, rather confident as he raises his hand. She frowns, confused – this is clearly not the kind of reaction she’s been expecting from him.

But, as she turns back to face their Potions Master and Head of Hufflepuff House, the one and only Professor Terrence Jeffords, and sees him with a little vial in his hand, she’s quick to understand with wild horror what’s happening here: she’s been so lost in her victory she didn’t even hear him ask the question he obviously asked – what is this thing he’s holding in front of his classroom?

“Yes, Mister Peralta?” the professor questions his student, to most of Amy’s annoyance.

“This, Mister Jeffords,” Jake begins to recite in his most serious voice, trying not to show too much he’s beaming while he speaks (but quite failing at it), “is, I believe, called veritaserum. It’s a very dangerous potion. Only three drops of it are enough to make you reveal your darkest secrets to everyone. For example, give it to Santiago, and she’ll tell you that during fourth year, she bought our new Headmaster gifts for Christmas before learning he doesn’t accept any present at all and she had to turn them all back…”

Of course he had to add this last comment. Of course he had to turn his explanation into a joke – a joke that concerned her, because it wouldn’t be funny, otherwise. That’s typical of Jake.

She’s used to it by now, after spending almost seven years by his side in this wizardry school.

And though it infuriates her a little, that he would give away her secrets like that, making everyone stare at her, laugh at her, it’s not the worst part of it all. No, the worst part is what follows, when the Head of Hufflepuff House answers to that, seeming amazed by his actual knowledge of the thing, and the immediate impact it has on the scores on her piece of paper.

“I must admit, you impress me those days, Peralta. That’s exactly it. +15 points for Gryffindor!”

Peralta: 84 / Santiago: 77.

She groans looking at it. Finally this bet was maybe a terrible idea, she thinks.

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