It would be hard for me to say that this has not been the best year of my life so far.

i meant to post this in time for new year’s and never got around to it but whatever it’s still relevant 

  • Cheretiz: Seven loves you in every route :)) <3 :))
  • Me: I have played every route and gone for more phone calls than I can count and listen THEY ALL ARE IN LOVE WITH ME IN EVERY ROUTE. ESPECIALLY ZEN
  • Cheretiz: yeah but Seven :))
  • Fandom: they make a good point

If Bamon was always meant to be platonic, then I demand an explanation for why Bonnie was so heartbroken after Damon desiccated and carried his letter around without reading it for 3 years because she was THAT hurt AND acted like the furious scorned ex when he came back.


A monster in my mirror but I did not run away
I did not shed a tear or hide beneath my bed
Though the monster looked at me



I miss you.


Title: ‘Ghosts’
TV Show: The 100
Summary:  Trapped in the rubble of Tondc, Marcus Kane is saved by the last person he expected. A kabby AU fic that stems from the premise: What if Jaha had been just a few seconds too late to stop Abby from being floated in the first episode?
Rating: General (AU that includes major character death - see above)

Marcus awoke to a world full of rubble.

There had been…an explosion. He remembered that. Fire and noise and pain, and the sickening sensation of the world falling away beneath him. He had been knocked unconscious, clearly, but for how long? There was nothing that gave him any sign; the only thing he could see in the dim light was the crumbled remains of what must have been the buildings of Tondc, pressing in from all sides. If he strained his ears he could hear faint noises – distant screams and moans coming from around and below, but no-one within sight. His leg…

His leg was trapped. He tried to move it and nearly passed out again. It took several minutes for the agony to subside into a dull steady throb of pain. At least after some effort he was able to free his arms enough to move them, although a tentative exploration of his face revealed that he was covered not only in a thick layer of dust but a wet sticky substance that felt a lot like blood. The effort involved just in that slight amount of movement had him panting for breath, his pulse hammering. He lay limp against the rubble, trying desperately to think past the pounding in his head.

“Doesn’t look good, does it?” said a nearby voice.

Startled, Marcus raised his head a few painful inches, squinting into the dim, crumbling space around him and saw—


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Aaaaannnngggggssstt with some more angst with a dash of… fluff? 

Lolz, here some more OTGW artwork that I had lying around. Some of these were either pictures I wanted to digitally color or colored, and some are just doodles. ( colored one I did do here. )

The one with The Beast and Purple Guy was a little joke I thought up when I read one of Patrick McHale’s original ideas for OTGW to where the Beast was really just a conductor chasing the brothers around to get them back on the train they jumped out of. >u>”

Sam/Bucky Week: Day Two - Swap

(Inspired by this drawing, i.e the cutest fanart I have ever seen.)

“What the – heck,” Bucky said, catching himself at the last second, because while a lot had changed in the last seventy years, he was pretty sure that cursing in front of a child was still a no go, and, yeah, the source of that loud wailing noise was definitely a baby, half-buried in a pile of Wilson’s Falcon gear. 

Bucky scanned the room, a small lab tucked away on one of the base’s lower levels. There’d been the sounds of a scuffle over the comms and then a loud ‘bang’, and Wilson had yelled and then gone terrifying silent, not responding to Bucky’s increasingly  frantic concerned requests for his status.

And now Bucky was here, and Wilson was nowhere to be seen, and there was a baby.

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Dean visited Sam every day, brought in oatmeal cookies and alcohol free beer and a deck of cards. Most days they played hearts or blackjack. Sometimes Sam wanted to play poker, and Dean went along, but it made something tighten under his ribs cause those were usually the days that Sam would end up agitated and sweaty, eyes twitching with panic, face gone white. 

‘Dean,’ he’d say, eventually, ‘Dean, Dean, look at me, a djinn’s got us, Dean, we gotta - please Dean, we gotta get out!’ 

He’d started saying this about a year before. Around the same time he’d started looking at Dean a little differently.

Most days Sam’s sedatives kicked in before he got too upset. A few times Dean had had to help pin him down till the orderlies got there. Those nights he’d gone home and drunk himself into a stupor. 

He’d wanted to keep Sam at home, home in the little farmhouse where their parents had raised them, where Sam could have had the dogs and real beer and cable tv instead of three shared channels. For the first few months after all this had started he’d slept with Sam in their parents’ old king-sized bed, had thought that maybe then he could catch Sam’s weird fits while they were still coming on, could stop him before the ghosts of some other shadowy life, painted in dark watercolours that bled over into Sam’s mind, could fully appear.

Instead, he’d woken up one morning with Sam still half-asleep but on top of him, grabbing his dick and kissing him wet and desperate.

He hadn’t been angry. He’d known it was the sickness. He’d known that Sam couldn’t help it, not with the kind of terror he’d seen in Sam’s eyes, the sick black dread behind his pupils. 

‘Dean,’ he’d said, ‘it’s the - Dean, but that’s what we are, please, please Dean, oh god, oh god, remember us!’

It was ok, though. It was better now. The doctors said that if things went well, Sam might get to come home for Christmas. Maybe longer. Someday. 

He just had to make sure he didn’t look at the little notebook by Sam’s bed. He’d flipped through it once. He’d never do that again. 

Sweet (and sincere) Bruce/Dick thought:

You know I like my Bruce/Dick as complicated as possible, with the hesitation and the trepidation and the carefully guarded feelings and the tortured confessions and the fear and the guilt and the things …

But if I look at them interacting in canon, I’m actually pretty convinced that if they ever discovered they had mutual feelings for each other, they’d both be no-questions-asked all-in from the word go and ridiculously happy. Like, they’re both passionate, and really passionate about each other, they have been through all kinds of shit together, they can communicate without words, they already trust each other with their lives (and they get each other’s humor which is like, relationship essentials right there). Basically they’re already admiring each other 24/7 anyway. Imagine if they were a couple. They’d wake up next to the other thinking “this is the best” every time. I mean sure, they’d still have little annoyances and big blowouts, because they’re Dick and Bruce, but all in all, they’d be so deeply and disgustingly in love they’d annoy the shit out of everyone else XD

See you around - SugaMonster

Prompt from anon at iamashamedofmyfanfics

“That’ll be $9.85-” Yoongi glances up at the customer and freezes, eyes wide.

Namjoon doesn’t look up, digging in his pockets for the cash. He tosses a ten on the counter, grabbing the cigarettes and sliding them into his pocket. “Keep the change,” Namjoon says, his voice raspier than Yoongi remembers, and he turns his back without looking.

Before he can think about what he’s doing, Yoongi calls out. “I need to see your ID before you buy those.”

Namjoon turns back, still looking down, pulling out his wallet, flipping through cards until he finds the one he needs. He tugs it out and tosses it on the counter before finally looking up at his cashier- at Yoongi.

“Yoongi,” he breathes out, frozen, and Yoongi can’t say anything, can’t do anything, just gives Namjoon the most awkward smile and says “Hi.”


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turning page (17/22?)

summary: au; the kingdom of misthaven’s prince killian jones is on the hunt for a bride. enter emma swan, and a whole slew of women from all over the land, in a massive dating game in the middle of building turmoil with the dark one and evil queen. captain swan. (loosely based on the selection by kiera cass)

word count: ~4400

rating: T

also on: ff.net

catch up here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen


Her laughter carries through the hall as she and Killian walk toward the library. She has a book pressed to her chest and he’s telling her about an incident he’d had in the kitchen in a way that has her lungs gasping for breath. 

“So I told him that I’d think on it.” Killian resolves as he holds open the library door. 

Emma giggles as she enters and when he closes the door after her, he crowds her against it, smiling sweetly. 

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