if he did have blue eyes

Promise

He finds Lance waiting on his bed for him when he returns to his room, and can tell from a single glance that Lance knows. That somehow— either because Matt or Coran told him, or because he just understands Keith that well, even after so many months apart— Lance knows exactly what happened while Voltron was fleeing Naxzela. What Keith had been prepared to sacrifice. What he’d nearly done.

Lance looks up at the hiss of the door sliding shut. He hasn’t even changed out of his paladin armor. Not fully. His arm guards and chest plate have been removed and discarded on the floor, but otherwise he looks just as he did when Voltron finally reached the Castle again— singed, disheveled, and staring at Keith with large, mournful eyes.

Keith can’t bring himself to meet those eyes. They’re even more blue than Keith remembers, and so full of hurt it makes Keith’s chest ache. Lance should never have to look that way about anything. Particularly not because of him.

Keith turns away and takes his time removing his black, Marmora armor. He can’t bear to see Lance so upset. Can’t stand the heavy silence between them. The thick tension just waiting to snap. Can’t stand it at all, but also can’t think of anything to say to dispel it. Words were never his forte, after all. He was much better with actions. Except, this time, his actions are what’s causing this situation, and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

He hangs his armor in his closet— the one spot of black among all the red and white he’s so used to wearing. A visual reminder of all he’s left behind. All he’s given up so his team can keep moving forward. Across the room, Lance shifts. He shifts, and he clears his throat, and Keith closes his eyes, waiting, as always, for Lance to cut through the tension. For the berate that’s surely on his tongue. For the angry words and endless rants he’s come to expect from Lance.

It doesn’t come, though. When Lance finally speaks, it isn’t loud, or enraged, or anything Keith’s used to. It’s soft, instead. So soft he barely hears it. And so rough and broken it nearly breaks his heart.

“Keith,” Lance murmurs, voice shaking even over that single word. “Why?” Why did you leave? Why did you abandon us? Why did you give up? “You glorious, reckless idiot. Why did you do it?”

Why did you almost let yourself die?

Keith swallows thickly. “Something had to be done,” he answers. “It was the only choice.” He glances over his shoulder at Lance and gives him a sad smile. “After all, the universe needs Voltron. It doesn’t need me.”

“We need you,” Lance protests, standing. He crosses the room in three quick strides and turns Keith to face him, hands gripping Keith’s shoulders like iron vices, and the most serious expression Keith’s ever seen across his face. “I need you.”

And if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing Keith’s ever heard. Because if either of them needs the other, it’s not Lance. It’s not this boy who shines so brilliantly, who is everything Keith has ever wanted to be and more, who could probably charm the whole universe into peace if he really put his mind to it.

Keith’s smile turns wry and he shakes his head. “No you don’t, Lance,” he says, emphatically because he needs Lance to understand. “You don’t need me. Just look at everything you’ve done.” Look at all the people you’ve saved and inspired and encouraged in a way that I never could.

It’s not enough to convey everything Keith thinks about Lance, of course, but he honestly doesn’t think any words in the English language (or any language, even) will ever be enough. There’s no way to describe the way Lance shines in his element. The obvious joy he brings to his flying, and the fierce passion that flares through his fighting. The excitement he exhibits whenever they find a new ally. The way he draws people to him without any actual effort. The way he cares and protects and gives hope wherever he goes.

He’s a much better paladin than he gives himself credit for, and much more valuable to the team than Keith ever could be. Keith’s absence over the past few months has proven that. Has shown Voltron can continue, and even thrive, without him. That they would continue to do so even if Keith had died. They’d still have their heart, after all— it’s right there inside Lance. He’s the drive that pushes them all forward, and the glue that holds them all together, and if Keith can keep that alive by sacrificing himself, he doesn’t consider death too great a loss.

Clearly, however, Lance doesn’t agree. “That’s not what I meant,” he chokes out, voice watery and blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s not what I meant at all, you idiot. This isn’t about the team, or Voltron, or even the whole goddamn universe.” His hands shift, sliding across Keith’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. Keith fights not to lean into the warmth of Lance’s hands, but when Lance gently tilts his head back he knows it’s a lost cause. He’s so weak to the man standing in front of him. Weaker still to the way his bright blue eyes bore into Keith, more intense than they’ve ever been before. More urgent. More desperate. More filled with longing.

“I’m your right-hand man, aren’t I?” Lance asks softly, so close now that Keith can feel his warm breath against this skin. “We’re in this together, you and me. I’d follow you to ends of the universe. So just please,” he pleads. “Please. Promise me you won’t go where I can’t follow.”

And how can Keith say no to that?

The tears are falling down Lance’s cheeks now, wet streaks against his dark skin. And, this time, seeing Lance so upset over him, over the near loss of him, Keith’s heart does break. It cracks and shatters under the weight of Lance’s grief, and Keith already knows it will never fully recover. Even if he tries to tape it back together and pretend it’s all alright, there will still be fragments missing— little shards that will belong to Lance, and Lance alone, whether Lance realizes that or not.

Keith closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He turns his head into Lance’s hand, pressing his lips lightly against Lance’s skin, and if Lance is surprised by the gesture, he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t try to pull away or even protest.

“Ok,” he murmurs against Lance’s hand. “Ok, Lance. I promise.”

He’d do much more for Lance if Lance ever asked it of him, but supposes this promise is a good place to start. And when Lance smiles for the first time all day, and then pulls Keith into a tight embrace, he wonders why he ever thought leaving was a good idea. Lance’s arms are warm around him, more comforting than anything Keith’s ever known, and beneath the palm Keith’s spread flat against Lance’s back, he feels the faint, steady thump of Lance’s heart. Takes comfort in the fact that Lance is alive and well and right there with him. Takes comfort in the fact that Keith himself is still alive to feel it.

And, for now, that is enough.

anonymous asked:

Not an ask about William! Just a fun fact about your Daniel Radcliffe comment - it's so true! Did you know that the directors tried to put green contacts in little Danny when he was 11 and his eyes reacted SO BADLY to them, watering, red af, itchy, swollen up 10x their regular size like Pepe...lmao so he had to just have blue eyes, despite everything. Idk I just thought that little piece of trivia was fun. 😂

I think the same thing happened with Emilia Clarke, who plays the notoriously purple-eyed Daenarys Targaryen on GoT. People are mad about that, too. Coloured contacts are difficult to act with, if I recall correctly. Not only are they super uncomfortable, but the natural expressiveness of the eye is severely limited, and makes close-up acting look stiff and unrealistic. They just don’t look good. 

And eyes are completely different in literature and fiction than they are IRL. Like, I’m all for 10-paragraph long descriptions of Fox Mulder’s mossy forest ash slate emerald pools of desire, but it’s just not realistic to expect an actor be cast on virtue of having the correct eye colour. 

WKM - What happened?

I’m going to cover all of this mess in this post. It’s just what I think could be the truly amazing story behind this amazing video series. 

There are LOTS of questions in my own head and I’m gonna try answering (hopefully) most of them! Here we go!

WHO KILLED HIM NOW?

The biggest question raised is, obviously, who killed Markiplier? From what we could gather throughout the series, demons are likely to exist in this scenario.

Even the newspaper gives a hint that the mayor might have been a “demon in disguise”. So there are spiritual, supernatural things happening here. I, for one, can not answer the biggest question out of all, how he died and who he was killed by. I can only make one assumption; here’s my theory.

We know that Mark’s body went missing at some point. Where exactly is never shown or hinted at, but I have a likely theory that Mark himself was the one to hide his own body in form of his spirit. Or just, behind all that was happening in general. However, what we do know is that Mark, I quote (Damien): “(He) trapped us here in this broken shell and we had no way out.” 

It seems established that, during the time we were outside to talk to the gardener, Damien and Celine tried to reach out to Mark(’s ghost), hence she wanted to “talk to the dead”. During that time, Mark took the chance to inhabit Damien’s body and trap him inside his own, dead shell that could not be used anymore. Whilst doing so he either accidentally killed Celine by possessing her first, her not being able to hold the soul inside her body, OR Celine did not die and let Damien inside her body to save him from being thrown into the corpse, which would explain why she was red and blue in the end sequence of Chapter 3. She also appears to be having two pairs of eyes above her head at one point. Possibly a hint that she’s two in one at that point?

Either way, we know that Damien represents BLUE and Celine represents RED thanks to the ending of Chapter 4:

Which is why it could very well be that She kept Damien’s soul inside her body for a short while to save his life. And of course Damien was PISSED after that, betrayed by whom he cared for, who he fought Will for and whom he thought was a good, a childhood friend he could trust. That’s for the angry step towards us, the angry stare. He looks at us, knowingly. He chooses his victim that very moment.

We are told to run. The door closes and Celine does not come out. Her shell possibly broke and both souls were set free without a shell, or she kept it up and waited for the right moment to talk to us. 

The right moment being the time Will shot us.

And here is the thing; We did NOT die. If you listen closely, you can hear a faint heartbeat in the background during this very scene. They both tell you to believe them, tell you stories to make you feel sorry for them. Which, of course, you do. Damien seems pissed and loses his temper once more, like he did with the Colonel before, and shouts angrily that Mark walks around in his body. Which is why I think that part is true. He couldn’t take his anger in. He can’t, he has a low temper, that’s just it.

But Celine reminds him that he “can’t do this right now”. Reminds us to believe them. What you’re told is that Mark trapped both of them inside his old, dead body and that they brought you there so you have a chance to survive. Damien tells you that you can’t survive on your own and Celine says she can bring you back the same way she brought you there. But what Damien says afterwards is the most important clue.

He says: “But you can’t survive on your own. You’re .. dead, after all. (…) I know this all sounds crazy. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But I know that I trust Celine. And if you trust us … let me in. We can fix this.”

Gathered: Damien lies to you after all this time of actually being genuine. He was betrayed by Mark, knows that you trust him, wants revenge and is angry. He lures you into a false sense of security, tells you you can fix this together. He makes you feel like a friend by telling you that he feels the same way about all of this. And then, he mentions that oh so beloved trust of his. That one thing he completely lost thanks to Mark. 

Also important to note; It is ONLY DAMIEN that inhabits your body after all of this. Why is that?
Celine states that she can send “you” back, not “us”. She says “you” have a choice. And Damien ends his sentence with “let me in.” Not let us in.

You trust Damien and he tells you that it will work, he promises.

And it does work! You wake up in your own body, get up, meet the Colonel who is completely out of it by now.

He does not recognize us as a “Dark” or “Damien” because we don’t look like Damien yet and Dark doesn’t exist yet either. Damien, at this point, is inside our body and trying to take over. 

We listen to what Will says and see him, in desperation and utter confusion, try to find his dear friends he lost.

Once he’s away, only THEN do we walk over to the mirror. And here is where it gets interesting.

We take Damien’s cane: Take a look at the hands.

A thin, female and young looking hand (possibly Amy wee i love her), but then something happens.

The hand changes, transforms into a different one. Into a hand similar to Damien’s. Because Damien is inhabiting your body by himself. Celine is likely still in Mark’s body or, as I mentioned earlier, never died to begin with. It’s Damien who was so fed up, he had to use you to get what he wants. And he gets it alright:

A body. A shell to use as a puppet. He transformed your body into a copy of his own. Mark likely still uses actual Damien’s body, but Damien had to make you look like him to finish this with you. 

Then this happens.

And sad music plays in the background all throughout this scene and it broke my heart - but why did it break my heart? Because that right there is a representation of broken trust, my friends. Damien threw us out of the body he stole from us and trapped us either behind our screens or in that mirror (hence the weird noise light inside the crack). He used us. He manipulated us. We were his first victim.

And he feels bad about it at first. Note how Dark’s look changes after he throws us out? Because now we can see what he truly is; a broken man. He had so much trust in Mark, in us. He was a genuine, good and kind hearted man. He neglected his other friends for Mark only to then find himself betrayed by Mark or whatever he had unleashed that day. He is troubled, his emotions are a whirlwind and all the while he has to keep his anger inside. After all, Damien has a short and low temper. Guilty about what happened, he looks up at you.

Reminds himself that he has a goal now; take revenge. Looks at you now with almost disgust to make you feel even worse. This is a reflection of his own emotions that very moment. We are supposed to feel exactly what Damien felt. Betrayal, fear, loneliness. An end. The mirror itself is a genius metaphor for this.

He then leaves us. Clearly guided by rage and hatred and you can FEEL that, I get goosebumps just thinking about this. (@markiplier frickin amazing acting, dude!) Anyway, here he makes up his mind to take back control over what is rightfully his. Mark; his own body.

We are then left in darkness, questioning and clueless, sad and quite literally broken. 

Dark’s origin, ladies and gentlemen.

(just my take on this. It’s probably, like, super wrong lmao also sorry for the long post ilyall)

andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Draco dying his hair light blue

Harry can’t stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy’s hair is blue.

“Harry! Harry? What are you – “

“Malfoy.” Harry answers Hermione without looking away.

Ron pauses midway through a mouth of potato. “What?”

“Malfoy,” Harry explains again, “He – Look what he did.”

Hermione’s eyes remain fixed on Harry. “Don’t you think you need to stop obsessing over him? The war is over. We’re all on the same side.”

“No, look what he did to his hair!” Harry all but shouts. MALFOY’S HAIR IS BLUE.

Hermione and Ron finally follow Harry’s gaze to the Slytherin table to Draco Malfoy, blue hair and all.

“Bloody hell.”

“That is surprising,” Hermione admits.

“Maybe someone cursed him?” Ron suggests.

“I hope not,” Hermione frowns. “Like he doesn’t have enough to deal with – his mother is being retried this week.”

Harry’s chest constricts. “That’s this week?”

“Yes, Harry. I thought you were the one stalking him?”

“Well he has been sadder than usual. He’s been eating cereal since last Friday which is odd as he almost always goes for – what?” Harry stops at the looks Hermione and Ron are giving him.

Hermione shakes her head. “I was being facetious, Harry. I can’t believe you’re stalking him again.”

“I’m not stalking,” Harry clarifies, focusing his attention solely on Hermione and Ron to prove his point. Which is difficult when MALFOY’S HAIR IS BLUE. “I’m just observant.”

Hermione smiles wickedly and Harry already knows he’s stuffed before she opens her mouth. “Okay, then what do I usually eat for breakfast?”

Harry tries to eye her plate discreetly but she already has her hand covering it. He desperately tries to remember what she’d been eating only seconds earlier. “Uh….uh…”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not stalking Malfoy,” Harry tries again.

Ron sniggers into his morning omelette. “Sure, mate.”

Hermione rests her head in her hands (revealing her breakfast of poached eggs). “Why don’t you go over there and ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

Hermione closes her eyes in obvious exasperation. “Why his hair is blue.”

“I can’t – “

“Mate, just go,” Interrupts Ron, now with a mouthful of tomato. “You’re going to be like this all day if you don’t.”


Malfoy looks up in surprise as Harry approaches, his cereal spoon hovering above his bowl. “Potter?”

“Malfoy.” Harry nods. He tries not to stare so openly at Malfoy’s hair but…it’s BLUE.

Malfoy drops his spoon and pushes the cereal away. He stares at Harry suspiciously. “Are you lost?”

“No, I – why is your hair blue?” Harry blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer.

One of Malfoy’s hands automatically jumps to his hair, as if he’d forgotten the colour for a moment. After the initial surprise, Malfoy’s turns defensive. “You got a problem with it?” He asks.

“No, not at all. It’s just – never mind. Forget I asked.” What was he thinking? What were Hermione and Ron thinking sending him over here? He turns to leave.

“it’s poetic, Potter.”

Harry turns back to Malfoy. “Poetic?”

Malfoy shrugs, and looks down into his cereal bowl. “I’m feeling blue. I dyed my hair to match. It made sense last night after the second bottle of firewhiskey.”

Harry considers this. “Your mother?” He asks, softly.

“Yes,” Malfoy says into his cereal.

“Do you – I mean, would you – would it help if I came with you?” Oh Merlin, did Harry really just say that?

Malfoy looks up, sharply. “Why would you want to do that?”

Harry feels his cheeks reddening. “Your mother saved my life,” he offers, which is true at least, but only a small part of his real motivation.

“Of course,” Malfoy says with a polite nod. Is Harry reading into it or does he seem…disappointed?

“And you might need…support.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Malfoy’s mouth. “I have friends, Potter.”

“Right, I didn’t mean to say – it’s just – I’d like to be there. For both of you.”

Malfoy tilts his head and looks Harry over with a curious gaze. This only makes Harry blush harder.

“Okay,” Malfoy finally says, “You can come.” He picks up his spoon and returns his attention to his cereal.


Harry can’t stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy’s hair is green.

“Go ask him, already.”


Malfoy looks up. This time he doesn’t seem surprised. “Potter. What brings you here?”

“You know what.”

Malfoy smirks. “Enlighten me.”

Harry stares at Malfoy’s hair. “Why green?”

Malfoy shrugs. “Just felt like it.”

Harry frowns. He wonders whether Malfoy’s being entirely truthful. “That’s not very poetic,” he points out.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,” Malfoy whispers.

Harry blinks, processing. “What?”

“His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord,” Malfoy continues with a shy smile. “Poetic enough for you?”

Harry feels himself blushing again.

“Maybe I should have gone pink to match your face,” Malfoy suggests with a wink. Merlin, Harry might melt.

“You remembered the po – “

“I wrote the poem,” corrects Malfoy.

Harry frowns “But I always thought Ginny – “

Malfoy shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Does that mean you – that you used to – “

Malfoy interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “Like you?”

Harry gulps. “Yeah.”

“I thought that was obvious, Potter.”

Harry feels like his knees might buckle at any moment. This is really happening. He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “And now?” he asks.

Malfoy raises his eyebrows, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought that was also obvious, Harry.”            

And just to be an infuriating bastard, Malfoy chooses this moment to dust himself off and leave the Great Hall, with one last wink at Harry.

Harry wants to follow but he thinks his legs may have turned into jelly. He has to grip the table tightly just to keep himself standing.


Harry can’t stop staring. Breakfast never stood a chance.  Malfoy’s hair is pink.

He doesn’t even bother to take a seat at his own table, instead heading straight over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall.

Malfoy watches him as he approaches with a smug smile. “Pot – “

Harry interrupts by leaning down and smashing his mouth onto Malfoy’s, his hands reaching out to finally run through that gorgeous hair. The entire Great Hall is watching and Harry’s face is on fire, but none of that matters, because Draco Malfoy is kissing him back.

And his hair is bloody pink.

HOW ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT HONERVA?

What about Honerva? Oh idk, maybe…

THIS

WHAT THE FUCK

SHE’S USING HER ALTEAN POWERS TO HIDE HER ENTIRE IDENTITY!

Now okay this entire time I’ve been wondering:

How does no one including her own son not recognize her??

“No one comprehended that the experiments of my mother, Honerva, could never be undone. I had a secret team construct this inter-reality gate on the rift, where her work began.”

SO HE THINKS SHE’S DEAD

But why wouldn’t he recognize her right?

BECAUSE FOR ALL THESE 10,000+ YEARS SHE HAS BEEN HIDING HER IDENTITY!

And just look at her expression. She is shocked to see her real face after so long.

Clearly getting her memories back in season 3 has changed her perspective on a lot of things.

It’s like she was almost reborn again

“No one can completely wipe a memory away. There are always remnants deep within to claw out.”

BUDDY SHE IS SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE HERE

This could be foreshadowing to Zarkon possibly remembering some day through some sort of experience, considering he clearly didn’t remember even after she woke him up with her power drawn from those memories.

But back to the scene revealing her real identity:

Her pupils are shaking, her eyes are blood-shot, and she looks very distressed!

The amount of stress on her body over 10,000 YEARS is obviously going to take its toll on her. Her body is most likely permanently damaged from what happened to her when she was on her death bed.

Even if it is not the most noticeable thing happening in the show, she is clearly drawing back to being more Honerva than Haggar.

(Honerva was clearly crazy too and was a “science or death” woman but she was at least a little more sympathetic(?) as Honerva)

So I just wanted to point this out since I have seen absolutely no posts about this meanwhile I was screaming when it actually happened.

Theory time: so it’s clear that Zarkon(and everyone else in the universe) believe that Honerva died 10,000 years ago.

And as we’ve seen here, the purple/blue skin look and glowing eyes are part of an Altea transformation that she did to hide her identity.

Maybe when she woke up from being dead, she decided that the loss of his wife is exactly what zarkon needed to rule his empire with proper authority, considering he risked everything to try and save her she was obviously his weak spot.

So she wakes up before him and decides she’s going to be Haggar, the High Priestess of the galra empire, here to advise and help zarkon in anyway possible. And then over those 10,000+ years she forgot who she was, what with being swept up in the Druid magic and quintessence.

All she knew after a certain point was that she was Haggar. She clearly did not remember Lotor being her son until she gained her memories back. And it’s stated she didn’t realize zarkon was her husband until they came back.

So yeah this post is long sorry about that. Happy Season 4 Day everyone!

Movie night

Pairing; Park Jimin x Reader

Words; 3.2k

Genre; Angst (if you squint), PURE SMUT, Fluff (if you look real closely)

Summary; You and Jimin have been in a 6 month long relationship and the most you’ve done is make-out. During a movie night you deicde to push the boundaries but things don’t go as planned.

A/N; I’m still low-key sick so this isn’t perfect but I tried!

Keep reading

Laps and Naps

Originally posted by ohh-bloodyhell

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female!Reader - Cast x female!Reader

Request: So my idea was a fic with seb and reader on the set of Infinity War. Reader likes taking naps on the casts laps, and after a while seb notices that she’s never napped on his lap and gets a bit jealous. A few cast members notice his crush on the reader and one day reader finds seb and the rest of the cast sitting together and goes straight for his lap. The whole cast looks up in awe and snap multiple pictures and seb is all flustered and blushy. You can change it up if it didn’t make sense lol ☺️ (-anon)

Warnings: none, really!! just pretty fluffy stuff

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: it’s been such a weird week, and i really hope today will be good. but i’ve been havin’ a pretty bad mental-problems sort of day streak, so any memes sent to me are and will be greatly appreciated !!


“Y/N,” a distant, low voice sneaks through your sleepy mind. “C’mon, Y/N, I have to be in the suit in five minutes.”

The groggy veil of sleep slowly lifts off of your as you begin to wake-up. You could feel a heavy hand beginning to gently shake your shoulder.

“But I was so comfy,” your tired voice grumbles.

“I know,” Chris’s soothing voice drifts through the room. “But you’ve been sleeping on me for almost an hour, and I really have to get ready.”

Fine,” you groan, lazily pushing yourself up into a sitting position, snuggling into the corner of the couch as you pry open your heavy eyelids. “But you should know, that was a good nap.”

You blink away the sleep from your vision and look around the room, your gaze locking on Anthony.

Keep reading

Night Drive

Summary: In which you help Bucky combat a sleepless night by going on a night drive.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,366

A/N: Oh hey, it’s me. I guess I’m back.

Originally posted by krisletang

The screaming starts late that night. Or maybe it starts early that morning; it’s too dark outside your window to be sure of the time.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes is easier said than done. Your slumber had been a deep one, as the fatigue from two sleepless nights in a row had caught up to you. Once your head hit the pillow, you were convinced nothing could possibly wake you up.

Nothing except the sound of Bucky’s screams in the room down the hall from yours.

Keep reading

A voice told him where to go, and he went.

Maybe there was a time when the word of a disembodied voice would not have been enough. He doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t remember a lot of things. He remembers a lot of things. He remembers the wrong things.

He is slow. Maybe he wasn’t always slow, but he is slow now. There is no straight line between points. He considers every tree and every flower. He picks apples and catches lizards. He stares at the sky, and chases the stars.

He doesn’t speak much. He’s told he never did. He wonders if it was then what it is now, the way the words taste wrong and never fit on his tongue. Hylian and Hylian and Hylian but it never sounds right to the points of his ears. His first language is foreign and his accent is nowhere. He doesn’t sound like a hero. He doesn’t know what he sounds like, but he knows he doesn’t like it. It grates the way any wrong thing grates. He says nothing, and no one seems to mind.

He catches beetles, and stops to take pictures of fish.

In the burnt husk of a home, he finds a rusted shield. It didn’t do them much good, whoever they had been. He finds them all over, these floors without ceilings, these roofs without walls. He wonders, always: have I been here before? Did I know them, once? This house on the mountain, this cabin in the woods, would they have recognized me? Was this a name that fit on my tongue?

He learns to bake a cake, breaks rock salt and rubies from veins of ore in the earth.

He moves the sails of a raft with a Korok leaf, and he thinks: this should be easier. He wills the wind to move, but there is nothing. He looks out at the ocean and thinks: what might we find there? His raft is dead wood. He is alone.

He catches fairies in his hands, pink light and warmth and a faint ringing in his skin. They never complain. They never speak. He opens his hands to let them go, and they are the wrong color. The Great Fairy laughs, and it’s so much prettier than it used to be. Than it never was. He rolls glass bottles in his hands, but he doesn’t take them with him.

There is something restful in this. He can’t explain it, even if he had words to try. In his long slumber something inside him came unmoored, and he knows things he must not. He is tired. He knows this most of all. There is work to be done. There has always been work to be done.

He lights a fire, roasts a fish, picks at the flaky meat while it’s still hot enough to burn his fingertips.

He thinks of a sister he never had. He thinks of a grandmother he never had. Did he know his grandmother? In the Lost Woods he stares at the Deku Tree, and knows this is not home. There is a green-haired girl on the backs of his eyelids, and she sounds like three notes repeating.

He finds an ocarina made of wood, and runs his fingers over the holes. Three notes, repeating. He plays them, and nothing happens. He checks the shape of the moon and his reflection in the water. He plays three notes, different this time. There is nothing but an ache.

It sounds more like his voice than his voice ever did, and that hurts worse than silence.

He tries to remember Mipha. He wants to remember her most of all. They were friends, he is told. Close, he is told. He has nothing but fragments and a shirt that fits too well. When he tries to remember, he sees blue scales instead of red.

Zelda is Zelda is Zelda. She is the reference point around which the world turns. She is always Zelda, even when she isn’t. Her face is always her face. He is grateful and resentful in turns. There are so many people he would remember, if he could. Instead there is Zelda.

Ganon is not Ganon is not Ganon. He doesn’t know if Ganon has a face. He’s had so many faces. Was this ever a man, this manifestation of malice? He remembers eyes of gold, he remembers snouts. He recognizes the smell of him in burnt cloves and blood.

Fear is red lights and a blue glow. He knows these things were hope, once. He can’t remember it. He can’t remember seeing six metal legs and believing they would save him. Did he always know that it was helpless? It feels like he should have known.

The words are different, but the meaning is the same. He is procrastinating. If he needed an excuse, he would call it training. He would say they need every advantage. He would say they will only have one chance. No one asks for excuses. He says nothing.

Zelda has waited a hundred years. She waits, still.

She remembers a boy who never rushed her. She remembers, the way he does not, his silent patience while she found herself. While she took too long to find herself. She will wait for him to find himself, even if he takes too long. They may doom the world with their patience, but does the world not owe them this? There are so many worlds, and so few of them are kind. What could this world have been, if it had been kind? What might she have saved if it had not demanded saving?

She did not save the world. She will not save the world. She saved a single point of kindness who did not ask it from her. She will not ask it from him, but he may save her all the same. He is courageous. He is kind. Please, be careful.

He catches Koroks in durian trees, and chases dragons through canyons.

He jumps off a cliff to land in a stable, and no one there sees the hero he should be. He is no one, he is nothing. He is halfway to a beast, but they’re grateful for his help, when he offers it. He always offers it. He doesn’t know how not to.

His hands are calloused. Sometimes they bleed. He ties up his hair every morning, and does not stop. Swords fit so neatly in his hand. Sometimes he uses them to light fires or carve birds. It’s just easier. A sword is all he knows. He’s trying to be more. This might be beyond him.

Sometimes he growls when he’s angry. Sometimes he rips things apart with his teeth. Sometimes dogs follow him, but sometimes they whine. The shadows aren’t always unfriendly, and he feels them like fingers in his hair. There are eyes like fire in the mirrors at night, but he can only see them in the corners of his eyes.

The first time the Gerudo catch him, it was because he tried to scale their walls. Why did he think that would work? Urbosa would laugh if she knew.

He catches horses, but they’re never the right one. The hooves are wrong, the gait is wrong. They are never a part of him, an extension of his own legs. He rides across fields and they hesitate the way she never did. He whistles three notes, sometimes, but it never works.

He finds it, eventually. The place the voice told him about. Walls without a roof. Has he been here before? Surely he has. It’s night when he arrives. His footsteps make no sound. This is how he navigates the world, now, quiet as the sky. It’s easier this way. He kneels down to catch the latch on the chest, and when it opens, he cannot breathe.

He stares at it for a long time.

The moon is only the moon. His skin is still his own. Eventually, he breathes again.

He almost laughs.

He slides the mask onto his face.

new mind palace sequence, listen: sherlock going through those doors in his mind palace and it’s still the hallways of the roland kerr further educational college but instead of redbeard in the middle of the floor, it’s just john, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing that plaid shirt with the sheer maroon cardigan, looking off into the distance, and when sherlock comes in, his head turns, and he sees sherlock, and he smiles just a very very very tiny little bit, so little only sherlock could see it, only because he knows john’s face so very well. 

and john pushes off the wall and goes to sherlock, stands in front of him. you need to calm down, sherlock, he says. he sounds like his doctor self. his soldier self. the way he sounded just inside 221b’s door before Moriarty’s trial all those years before, the quiet authority, ready? before he lead sherlock through the crowd. the quiet authority of just a few weeks ago on the floor of a barracks bathroom, of steven, can you hear me? stay with me. sherlock says, i didn’t know, john, i’m sorry i didn’t see it. and john reaches out one hand, puts it on sherlock’s arm. they don’t touch much in real life but sherlock knows the size of john’s hand, the warmth of his palm. he knows it now. he knows it always.

don’t apologise, john says. i just need for you to be all right sherlock. i know it hurts, i know it does. i got shot too, remember? but i need for you to be all right. and it does hurt, it really hurts, and john is saying breathe, breathe, helping sherlock to his knees so he doesn’t fall down, helping him carefully to the floor. how did you survive it? sherlock asks him. how did you survive the pain? sherlock knows now how it is to be hugged by john, and john hugs him here, too, holds sherlock close to his body, shelters him. he smells like aftershave. his eyes are deep dark blue. i had to, john says, he takes off his cardigan and presses it to the wound in sherlock’s chest. it’s not bleeding, here in the mind palace, but the pressure hurts. i had to survive it so that we could find each other. and you have already left me once, sherlock, and i can’t do it again. do you understand? you do not get to die under my hands again, all right? john takes his face in his hands as sherlock’s heart starts to fail. softer now. we’re losing you, sherlock, and i need you to survive this, okay, i need you to do this with me. are you ready? so breathe. and john kisses his forehead. breathe. john kisses one cheekbone, breathe, and the other. sherlock, right now, okay? right now. are you ready? 

sherlock nods, even though he isn’t sure, and john says it one more time, breathe, and it sounds like for me, and he kisses sherlock’s mouth, kisses him hard and steady and certain, and somewhere in a surgical suite outside of sherlock’s mind, a machine beeps back into life. 

My girl

Originally posted by quietisvilonet

Originally posted by thosekidswhohuntmonsters

Imagine Sebastian Stan eyeing you out at the Red Carpet awards and your boyfriend Bill Skarsgard notices.

You walk down the red carpet with your boyfriends arm around your waist, you smile as you pass all the photographers taking pictures, until you felt a bit of a pinch on your side. You looked to see Bill tensing his fist on your waist.

“Ow” You winced

“Sorry” He whispered

You saw that he was gazing to a man ahead of yous, when your eyes followed to where he was looking you saw Sebastian Stan. You both made eye contact, and it made you feel a bit uncomfortable because he was starring at you as he were predator and you his prey. Bill pulled you closer to him and nibbled a bit on your earlobe.

“Bill” You giggled as you looked away from Sebastian

“Hey im ganna go say hi to some people, mind waiting here?” He asked as held both your hands in his warm ones.

“Of course my handsome man” You winked

You watched Bill walk through a crowd of celebrities and dissapear, luckily your best friends Elizabeth Olen and Scarlet Johnson came to your side and admired your dress and makeup.

Bill walked up to Sebastian and fake smiled for the cameras

“Keep your eyes of my girl, or you and I are ganna have problems” He said as he placed his arm around Sebs shoulders and smiling for the cameras

“You jealous because im here ex-boyfriend? or you scared that she one day might leave you and come running back to me” Seb tormented Bill. 

Bill’ hands balled up into a fist, he was ganna do something that he would regret for the rest of his life. He placed a hand on Sebs shoulder, he was about to raise his fist and sock him in the jaw, until you strolled along the carpet with a smile on your face.

“Sebastian!” You hugged him, pulled away and pecked his cheek, once you did Sebs eyes went to Bills and he winked teasingly

“Wow you look amazing doll” You blushed at his comment

Bill placed his hands around your torso from behind

“Seb and I were just catching up…. Right pal?” His eyes glaring coldly at Seb.


“Champagne miss Y/N?” The waitress offered, your eyes went wide, but then you remembered.

“No thank you” you grabbed Bills hands that were on your waist and moved them to your stomach, rubbing your one month flat stomach that would soon pop out.

Sebs eyes widens and his jaw agape’s and Bill steps away from you in surprise with an excited smile on his face

“Your pregnant!” Both Seb and Bill exclaim

You nod at your boyfriend and ex-boyfriend

“OH MY GOD!” Bill screams causing everyone in the whole crowd to stare at the commotion, he picks you up into a fiery kiss and spins you around

“Im going to be a dad!” He yells over to his brother Alexander who is in an interview with E!news. His brothers eyes widens and screams “Congrats bro!” All the celebs on the red carpet congratulated you and Bill. Seb smiled to you, but you knew it was a fake smile. Seb loves you still and hearing the news of your pregnancy shattered his heart, he didn’t say anything but kissed your cheek and walked off. You called out to him but he didn’t listen, you put your arms around Bill’ neck .

“Seb looked a bit off” You worried

“I kinda told him off” He said 

“Why?”

Bill sighs “Because he was starring, and I didn’t like the way he looked at you, so I went to him and told him to stop starring but instead of listening he replied with rude remarks”

“Like what?” Your forehead now on his

“Doesn’t matter. You know why? No matter what happens between us, your still My Girl” He kissed your lips.


Sebastian was in the mens room starring at his own reflection with anger rising in his chest, his mind screams and his heart breaks. Hes angry at himself because he wishes that could be his child instead of that stupid clown, he wishes that he could reverse the mistakes that he did, only to be with you. But it’s too late, you’ve moved on and now your having a baby. 

He smashed the mirror with his fist and slid down the wall holding his bleeding hand and crying tears from his ocean blue eyes

“Im sorry, I cheated on you with Margarita” 


My Girl Pt2

Lance is a Boy #1

Keith vaulted over a fallen tree, running as fast as he could through a dense jungle, thanking allura for making paladin armour so aerodynamic. There was a swift movement beside him as a lanky figure pushed ahead “Lance.” Keith hissed and pushed himself a little bit harder.
“Hurry up pretty boy! Or you’re lunch!” Keith’s eyes rolled as Lance cupped his mouth with his hands while running to deliver the sound over to Keith. It was more than unfortunate that in this second of diversion, Lance tripped over a tree root and face planted, letting his body roll with the momentum. Keith pushed his feet into the ground to stop as quickly as possible, he still had to run back a few paces to stop by Lance. The ground absorbed a groan from the blue paladin.
“Lance come on we need to go. Now.” Keith’s voice was urgent and persistent. “Please get up.” Keith’s hands wrapped around Lances bicep and he pulled, making Lance stagger to his feet. A dark red liquid stained his chest and Lance had drawn his hand up to his nose, pulling it away slightly and frowning.
“Ah quiznak.” The only words Lance left behind as they took off running again. Large stomps were suddenly eerily loud and very apparent behind them as they took long strides, staying closer together. It wasn’t long before their calves burned and the boys looked for any kind of checkpoint. Eventually they both dived past a large, off looking tree with high hopes. A long second passed,

then a loud buzzer went off.

“Simulation end!” A calm voice rang through an intercom, Allura. “Very good boys!”

“Really?” Keith’s voice was hopeful.

“Well… no, not really, but better! You both learned this time and took the wise route and ran, a wise altean once said ‘a brave person will fight relentlessly, a wise person will know when to fight another day.’, I’m impressed you chose to flee.” She walked through the door onto the training deck, her voice fading from the intercom. “Lance are you ok?”

“Better now that you’re here my princess” he winked and put his hand on his hip, clicking his tongue seductively, normally this would be as smooth as ever but with one hand pinching a dripping nose bleed, not so much. “Yknow my princess doesn’t really roll off the tongue, how about my everything instead?” It had only been about two days since Coran and Allura were awoken and Lance had flown in blue to the castle of lions, and he was still trying to get with allura, of course, to no avail.

Rolling her eyes, Allura turned to Keith “I’m glad you waited for him, I saw the hesitation in your eyes as he fell, you did the right thing and theoretically saved your friends life.”

“Wait wait wait, mullet hesitated!? Keith!” A swift (but gentle) smack on his shoulder made Keith smile.
“Lance I don’t think there’s a soul in this universe that wouldn’t have.”

Allura put a gentle hand on Lances shoulder “go see coran, get yourself set up in a health pod, he’ll need all of your information and then you’re set, that nose bleed, and whatever other damage, will be dealt with.” She smiled and turned to walk out, Keith following close behind.

Lance walked throughout the castle, his nose pinched and his mind starting to wonder. “Who knew finding an old man in a castle would be so hard…” as if summoned, Coran suddenly dropped from the ceiling and clanged to the floor. “AGH!” Lance jumped into an immediately defensive stance. “Coran?”

Other than looking slightly dirty, coran was intact and smiled warmly at Lance “sorry my boy! Was just cleaning out the vents, 10 000 years worth of dust, someone had to do it”

“There are vents? On a space ship?” Lance looked doubtfully at the orange haired man.

“Well, yes, they can be cut off but with them it keeps the airflow more consistent.” Lance shrugged and explained what had happened, as coran lead them to the room with the pods, they talked more and more about how advanced the ship was and reasoning for a lot of design choices.

“All right, Lance! I’ll need to ask you a couple questions to set up a basic data base and ID for you in a pod so it can optimize heal time.” Lances nose had stopped bleeding but he was pretty sure it was broke so he obliged.

“Fair enough, fire away.”

“Full name?”

“Lance Charles McClain.” He smiled, remembering his dad, Charles McClain, a nice, respectable man, he was named after him. Coran typed away happily, supposedly coding the system with Lances information.

“Height and weight?”

“5 feet and 9 inches, 130 pounds.”

“Sexual activities?”

“Woah Coran at least buy me dinner first.” Lance smirked and Coran tried not to but the corners of his moustache rose a little. “Currently not active.” He said, not ashamed of himself in the slightest.

“Ok last one, this ones easy, biological sex?”

Lance was about to answer but paused, thinking it over for a second, his answer was lower than usual and he looked down.

“female.”

To be continUED…

Everything that is right about today episode

Ok, just to start things off, this episode is lit! We’ve got plenty of action scenes and amazing animation. Did I mention the action sequences? Yeah, those are superb and eye-pleasing and wow-enticing.  

But the best things about this episode do not stop there.

We have Shouto walking around in his new hero costume, using fire with apparent ease.

Fiery red, cobalt blue and icy blue. What could possibly go wrong?

Then we have Shouto saying Izuku’s name several times throughout the episode. In various tones, I might add.

To a Tododeku trash like me, it’s a dream comes true!!

Shouto reflects on himself and sees how Iida is the same as he was before.

And the best part is the motivational speech from Shouto to Iida!!

You’re pulling a Midoriya right there Shouto. Midoriya has a positive effect on everyone. Tododeku is canon.

Accidental Flirting

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 950

Warnings: Spider-Man: Homecoming spoilers!!

Summary: You’re working at your dad’s deli shop, just like any other day after school, when a certain boy walks in and strikes up an interesting conversation with your father.

A/N: I love this so much, it was so much fun to write!! Part 2??? Yes, no, maybe so?


It was like any other day for you. After school, you dropped your books off at your apartment and grabbed a quick snack before heading down the block to the deli. Seeing as your dad was the owner, you were kind of obligated to help out there when you had free time. You didn’t mind, though, working the register wasn’t really all that bad. You were just lucky that you didn’t have to be the one actually making the sandwiches.

Today, in particular, you had completed most of your homework in study hall, so you weren’t worried about rushing home to finish it. It was still early in the afternoon, though, so the small shop was still empty. You were seated on the stool behind the counter, scrolling through your phone and keeping one earbud out so you could listen for the familiar ring of the door when a customer walked in.

After about fifteen minutes of doing this, you eventually grew extremely bored. Placing your phone down on the counter and pulling out the single earbud, you turned to your dad, who was busy stocking shelves. “Is there anything I can do? This is boring.” You complained, standing up.

Your dad shook his head slowly, chuckling, before picking up one of the cardboard boxes and shoving it towards you. “Here, chica, go help in the back. Put these away, you know where they go.”

Nodding contently with the moderately heavy box in your arms, you turned on your heel and walked into the back area of the store. Just as you entered, you heard the ding of the doorbell. Figures, as soon as you leave, a customer comes in.

Placing the box down, you began taking the packages of condiments and utensils out. From the main area, you were able to hear the conversation happening between your dad and the person. You recognized the second voice as belonging to none other than Peter Parker. He was in your grade, and you shared a few classes, but you’d never really had a solid conversation. He was a regular customer here, though.

Tuning most of it out, you quickly put the items in their respective containers. You only started listening intently when you could hear your father start speaking in Spanish.

“Ella es una mujer italiana bellísima.” You heard him say, visibly cringing at how strange the sentence sounded. Wondering who on earth he could possibly be talking about, you knew for sure it wasn’t your own mother, you stopped restocking and headed back out into the main area.

“¿Y cómo está tu hija, eh?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, but you’d made it far enough out into the room that you could see who the voice belonged to. And damn, he looked cute today. Peter was wearing a light blue sweater with a collar popping out of the top. His brown hair curled around his ears, and his dark brown eyes crinkled up at the sides as he lightly laughed.

A million thoughts were running through your head. He hadn’t even noticed you were there, he couldn’t have been talking about you. He did know that you were your father’s daughter, though, right?

Before you could tell yourself otherwise, using a sudden wave of confidence that had washed over you at the sight of how good he looked, you stepped further into view of the two of them. “Hmm, estoy bien, ¿y tú?”

The words flew out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop them, but for some reason saying them aloud gave you even more confidence. You met Peter’s eyes as you said them, and watched as a deep crimson blush arose on his pale cheeks. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to respond. Peter opened his mouth to say something, but your dad came rushing over to you and gave you a stern look.

“(Y/N), don’t you have shelves to be restocking? Off you go, adiós.” He shook his head, placing his hand on your shoulder and guiding you to the back area.

“Wait, Peter didn’t answer my question!” Smirking, you squirmed out of his grasp and walked behind the counter, now even closer to the incredibly flustered boy.

He was a mumbling, incoherent mess. It gave you a funny feeling in your stomach, knowing that you made him so nervous. This was the literal smartest kid in your whole grade, and here he was, tripping over his words just because you had flirted back at him.

Peter cleared his throat, placing the sandwich and bag of candy on the register in front of you along with a ten dollar bill. You put his stuff into a plastic bag, before putting the money in the register and carefully counting out his change.

When you handed the few singles and coins back to him, your hands brushed against each other. It was only for a split second, but it was enough for both of you to now be blushing. Peter’s eyes widened, before shoving the money into the pocket of his jeans and grabbing the bag of food. He was on his way out, you watching as you bit your lip to hide a smile.

Pushing open the door, he was almost fully out of the store before he turned around and looked at you. “I’m great, actually. I mean, my crush just totally flirted with me, so of course I’m good.”

Your jaw dropped, face flushing an even brighter shade of red before the door clanged shut behind him and Peter was gone.


Part Two!!!

Screwed || Bucky Barnes

Relationship: AU!Bucky Barnes x reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Bucky Barnes had never taken a liking in you, no matter how hard you tried he always seemed to loathe you. That is until you get a little drunk and carefree leading to becoming much closer to Bucky than you ever imagined. The question is, how screwed are you?

Warnings: drinking, mentions of sex, swear words

Word Count: 1932 words

A/N: NEW SERIES WOOP WOOP I already have part two written get ready


“You coming to my party tonight?” Steve asked as you took a sip of your water, swallowing the bite of burger you’d taken.

“Is this a party party or a Steve Rogers party?” You asked, chuckling as he pursed his lips and gave you a small glare, “a Steve Rogers party, I suppose,” he said as you popped a fry into your mouth, “I’ll be there,” you smiled as he bit into his own burger.

“Who’s gonna be coming?” You asked after a few moments between the two of you, “uh well Sam, Clint, Nat, I think Wanda and Bruce are coming, but I’m not too sure on them,” he said a twinge of nervousness in his voice, “and Bucky,” he mumbled quickly before stuffing the last of his burger into his mouth.

You dropped the fry that was between your fingers, crossing your arms over your chest, “are you serious,” you said rhetorically as Steve gave you a sheepish smile, “oh c'mon he’s not a bad guy,” he tried to persuade you as you rolled your eyes.

“You know that he and I don’t get along,” you scoffed, “and you know that he’s my best friend,” Steve argued, pointing a fry towards you as you sighed knowing you were starting to be selfish. This was Steve’s party after all.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” you said as Steve grinned, “it’s all good, doll,” he said, placing his hand on yours, his thumb soothing the soft skin, “plus, I’ll make sure to have a talk with Bucky as well,” he chuckled as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Whatever you say, dad,” you mocked as he let out a laugh as you finished the last of your food. “Well, thank you for treating me to lunch, but I’ve got to get back to work,” you sighed as Steve reluctantly stood up to walk you out.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” he said as you nodded, “see you soon, Steve,” you said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before you both went your separate ways.

You had only met Bucky a little over a year ago when Steve introduced you two at one his parties. You thought you were making a good impression since you didn’t really talk to him much that night.

What happened during that night that made him hate you was beyond you. Ever since that party he’s been nothing but rude to you and although you tried to mend whatever relationship you had with him for Steve’s sake, it just didn’t work. So now no one wanted to be alone in a room with you and Bucky.

-

You finally finished another gruelling shift at work finally being able to rip off your apron, stuff it into your locker and be done with it all.

It was only eight o'clock, so you had about an hour to get ready before you had to get to Steve’s. You decided on taking an extra long shower, since you had the time.

Forty five minutes later you were feeling pampered and ready to have some fun. You finished applying the light gloss to your lips, smiling to yourself in the mirror happy with the final result.

You grabbed your phone, a small purse and slipped on your shoes before starting the walk to Steve’s apartment.

-

Knocking on his door you balanced you the balls of your feet as you waited for him to open it, “[Y/N]!” Steve shouted as he opened the door, pulling you into a hug which you returned.

“How was work?” He asked as you toed off your shoes and hung your jacket on the coat rack, “don’t get me started,” you chuckled as he lead you into the living room where Nat and Sam were already laughing and drinking.

“Drunk already?” You playfully mocked as you fell in between Nat and Sam on the couch, Steve handing you a beer, “not quite,” Nat laughed as the four of you fell into conversation only stopping when Wanda, Bruce, and Clint joined.

By nine thirty everyone was having a good time with each other as you all caught up and reminisced. You were having a blast not even thinking about how you were supposed to be civil with Bucky, who had yet to make an appearance.

“Does anyone want another beer?” You asked standing from the couch, “grab me one will ya’,” Sam asked as you nodded, heading off towards the kitchen, “wait grab me one too!” You head Nat’s voice, whipping your head in her direction.

“Will d-,” you weren’t able to finish your sentence as you bumped into something, groaning at the contact, “watch where you’re going,” a familiar voice grunted as you looked up to meet a very annoyed looking Bucky.

You rolled your eyes, not having the energy to deal with him deciding that walking away would be the best decision, “an apology would be nice,” you heard him yell as you walked to the fridge. Scoffing, you simply raised your middle finger in the air as you grabbed two beers, not bothering to look at him.

You brushed past him not wanting to look or talk to him, but his arm gripped your elbow stopping you, “be civil,” you growled not breaking your gaze as he clenched his jaw, “fine,” he snarled, letting go of your elbow and following you into the living room.

You could feel the glare Bucky gave you the entire night. It didn’t matter what you did, hell you even met his glares a couple times but that did nothing but make him clench his drink and jaw even harder.

“Looks like Buck’s got an eye for you,” Nat snorted as she plopped her tipsy self on the couch beside you, “probably cause he wants to kill me,” you snickered before taking another swing of your beer.

“Oh please, there’s so much sexual tension between you two,” Nat smirked as you rolled your eyes, “you wish,” you said before you finally managed to steer the conversation away from you and Bucky.

As much as you wanted to listen to what Nat and Clint were talking about you just couldn’t get the thought you Bucky out of your mind. Did you guys have sexual tension? Even you could admit that Bucky was attractive. He was built like a God, his sparkling blue eyes complimented his skin tone and his brunette locks. He was what everyone looked for in a man, yet his personality ruined it all for you.

As the night went on everyone got progressively more drunk, leaving you giggling at every little thing and getting particularly more touchy with everyone. Everyone.

“Have you been working out lately?” You giggled as you squeezed Steve’s bicep as his arm snaked around your waist to hold you closer. You could smell the liquor on his breath as let out a chuckle, “maybe I have been, doll,” he whispered in your ear as you giggled.

You glanced over his shoulder only to be met with Bucky’s stare, his jaw clenched impossibly tight, pupils blown with little blue left in his eyes. He took your breath away. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol flowing through your veins or the way his tongue darted across his plump lips.

“Sorry Stevie, gotta go to the little lady’s room,” you excused yourself as he nodded, winking at you as you sauntered across the room, nearing Bucky.

Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip as you smirked brushing past his crotch not saying a word but hearing the groan bubble from his chest.

You smirked to yourself hoping he got the message as you made your way down the small corridors, the music slowly becoming more muted before you stopped at the bathroom door.

You closed your eyes as you leaned your hot body against the cool wood of the door sighing to try and calm your beating heart.

You gasped, your eyes snapping open when you felt Bucky’s body pressed against yours, a small growl coming from his lips, “you’ve been teasing me all night doll,” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you moaned in response, lavishing at the feeling of his body pressed against yours, “I haven’t done a thing,” you smirked as he let out a dry laugh, “I beg to differ,” he growled pressing his clothed erection into your hip, making you gasp.

James,” you moaned involuntarily as his lips began nipping at your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear making you moan out again.

“Not here,” you whispered in a hoarse voice, smirking as you led him into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind you.


You groaned as you peeled your eyes open, covering your entire face with your arms as you tried to sit up and gather your bearings. You were clearly much more drunk than you thought.

Sitting up you let out another groan as your eyes adjusted to the light, okay you were at Steve’s still and currently on his couch.

You stood up looking around to see no one else in the living room on the couches with you. Assuming they all went home you padded your way over to Steve’s room.

“Stevie?” You whispered as you creaked his door open, “ya in here?” You asked only to find him snoring on top of the bed, still fully clothed. You laughed to yourself, closing the door before making your way into the kitchen in hopes of finding some coffee and painkillers.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” you let out a yelp when you heard Bucky, turning to see him leaning against the frame of the door, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t call me that,” you scoffed grabbing a glass of water before downing two painkillers, grabbing a glass and two more for Steve.

“After last night I think I can call you that, doll,” he chuckled as you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but still walked around him to Steve’s room, him hot on your heels.

“You’re out of your mind,” you chuckled nervously as you entered Steve’s room again, placing the water and painkillers on the nightstand before joining Bucky in the hall again.

He raised an eyebrow, “are you trying to tell me you don’t remember what we did last night?” He asked, almost surprised as your eyes blew wide, nearly popping out of your head.

“No,” you said, “no, no, no, no,” you rushed out grabbing your head in your hands, tugging at your hair, “tell me you’re joking,” you begged as you walked into the kitchen, steading yourself on the island.

“What can I say,” he shrugged his shoulders as he folded his muscular arms over his equally muscular chest, “I hate you,” you growled as memories from last night came flooding back to you.

You remember the looks he was giving you all night. You remember drinking, a lot. You remember flirting with Steve. You remember luring Bucky to the bathroom and oh God you remember what he did to you.

You remember him taking you against the counter, relentlessly pounding into you as you raked your nails down his back and through his hair, chanting his name like a mantra.

“Thank me later, doll,” he winked at you as you gave him a glare, but couldn’t help the warm feeling at the bottom of your stomach as he spoke those words, remembering what he did and felt like.

Bucky Barnes had fucked you better than anyone else, and now you were screwed.


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The Son of Haggar part 1

Shangst Au

Lance always knew he was adopted, the Mcclains happily took him in. And for that he was grateful to them. He called then his family, though he did wanted to meet his real mother and his father. Wondering if they abandoned him, or simply couldn’t have him due to some circumstances. Though the adoption agencies said they found him on the beach crying at the age of 3.

Lance panted as he stared at the witch known as Haggar. Her golden eyes stared down at the wounded blue paladin. For some odd reason, she had sadness, almost like a mother losing her child kind of eyes.

“The Blue Paladin, I was once the guardian of the ocean.” Confessed the witch as she moved closer. Lance just glared as he looked for his bayard. “I won’t attack you, I have a very soft spot for you..” than she went on “We are known to be the most trusting, the most compassionate, yes?” As her long thin hands touched the Cuban’s face.

“You have my eyes…” she whispered, “you have his skin tone and hair.” She went on, Lance grew more confused. “You have his color blue But you have my markings…” Lance eyes widen in pain. He felt something sharp cutting through his face, but there was nothing on him.

“Shh..my child. This is your true form.” Lance stared at the reflection on the floor, so clear. He saw it. He had her markings, but in dark ocean blue. He saw the long elf like ears that alteans have.

Lance felt tears coming down, no he won’t believe it.

Lance grabbed his bayard but saw that Haggar had disappeared. He grabbed his fallen helmet and put it on a dark mode so the team wouldn’t see his face. And quickly ran back to his lion.

‘You found out my paladin..“ the kind voice of his blue lion whispered. ‘That Haggar was the original blue lion and your mother.’ Tears came down his eyes, “Yes I did…You won’t leave me because of that?” Lance whispered. ‘Of course not, you are mine.“ The compassionate lion said.

“Lance what are you talking about?” Shiro voice came out.

“Nothing! Just me and my beautiful blue just having a wedding plan.” Lance joked as he forced a strong joking tone. He was thankful for his classes in theater.

Shiro didn’t believe him, but decided to leave it at that. The mission was the worst of all they had, but thankful a successful one.

Blue told him how of Haggar became who she was, She was originally known as Farla. A beautiful blonde who was similar to Allura. Strong and kind. And when Zarkon betrayed Voltron, she followed him.

Blue went on saying she became pregnant with him, and had to hide him from zarkon. She hid him for 3 years or something similar to that. But the galra were getting suspicious. Haggar had put him into the blue lion and set it on sights of a far away plant. Or earth, though galra ships had attacked the lion and it crashed landed on the plant Earth. Lance was washed away from blue and onto Varadero beach in Cuba. Crying and in a language no knew he was saying.

Lance started avoiding the team, lying saying he felt sick, or just needed time to better his bond with his lion.

He started to put makeup that match his skin tone to hide Haggar’s markings. Though hiding the ears were more of a challenge. He began going to the space mall to buy different hats. Just to cover the ears, he hid them from team. By the time he thought he could go back to being the Lance they knew, something else happened.

His eyes started to change, the black pupil had change into a pale blue.

Lance felt tears coming down his eyes, it’s not fair…

– Part 2 -> https://bijellyfishy.tumblr.com/post/161513357287/som-of-haggar —————Part 3 -> https://bijellyfishy.tumblr.com/post/161534898607/son-of-haggar-part-3

viserys-last-of-his-name  asked:

So...racism in ASOIF. Pretty blatant, no? His clear equation of whiteness with beauty? The manner in which lands of color are always sexually...open. GRRM tries, sometimes, he really does, but there's some unhealthy shit there right? Could you give your thoughts on that, or link to a time when you have? Thank you! (Yes, I know my name is misspelled.)

Blanket statement before I start on this one: you can love a story to pieces and still point out its flaws and blind spots, including the racist kind. If we only consumed non-problematic media, we would consume no media whatsoever, but we still gotta be honest with ourselves about where our faves fall short. ASOIAF is my very favorite thing (shocking, I know), yet aspects of it are disappointing, and this is one of them.

For me, what really crystallized the problem with how GRRM writes the Dothraki and the Ghiscari especially is when I read some insightful people comparing that writing to how the author frames the wildlings. Personally, I think GRRM does some of his very best writing with the Free Folk. Throughout the series, the author lavishes attention on their individuality, their rich and sad history, their multi-faceted ideology and how it plays out in each of their unique life stories, all geared toward making Jon—and us—feel for them. Not just intellectually understand that they are human beings like anyone else, but feel it, in his and our bones.  

I want to really emphasize individuality, because it’s important—putting faces on the monolithic swarm changes Jon’s entire worldview over the course of ACOK, ASOS, and ADWD. That’s not just a band of stinking wildlings howling for blood, not anymore. That’s Ygritte, kissed by fire, who loved and was loved, lost and was lost. That’s Tormund Giantsbane, the only one of Jon’s many dads who doesn’t project anything onto him, but simply enjoys his company and wants him to be happy. That’s Mance and Gilly and Val, people that I care about and feel I have come to know. “This is a whole people come together.” One of the worst among them gets a POV; Varamyr Sixskins is the most stomach-churning face we ever wear, but by his prologue’s end, he’s a thoroughly fleshed-out villain, his life story told. I understand him, and my understanding of the wildlings as a whole is richer for what his story communicates.

This is good storytelling, in other words. Really good. Not flawless, but overall, it’s an engine of empathy and humanization with a big-picture political aim: the wildlings are people too, and that means we have to stand with them against the Long Night.

“When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.” He looked at Jon. “Would you agree?”

“My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,” Jon admitted. “He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.” He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though… but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte’s red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. “I agree.”

It’s stirring stuff, and a model to be studied. Those who were initially barbarians in our POV’s eyes are humanized…

…when they are white. When they are not white, the humanization drops off to a glaring and significant degree. Jon and Dany are paralleled throughout the story, but this is one very telling difference: the cultural Other in Jon’s story gets a human face, while Dany’s (to an overwhelming if not 100% complete degree) stays a swarm. This is true whether said swarm is being presented negatively…

Four of the men seemed to be named Grazdan, presumably after Grazdan the Great who had founded Old Ghis in the dawn of days. They all looked alike; thick fleshy men with amber skin, broad noses, dark eyes.

…or positively.

She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!”

You can definitely see parallels between Dany’s assimilation into the Dothraki in AGOT and Jon’s rumspringa with the wildlings in ASOS; @racefortheironthrone makes that case here. But the difference is that in Dany’s story on the Dothraki Sea and in Slaver’s Bay, there’s so rarely even the pretense of individualization. I challenge anyone to describe to me the characterization of Dany’s bloodriders—give me a paragraph on what makes Aggo and Rakharo different. (You would be able to with Mance v. Tormund.) Tell me about Hizdahr zo Loraq and Reznak mo Reznak as human beings. (You would be able to with Ygritte and Varamyr.) Where is the Tormund of the Dothraki? Where is the Ygritte of the Ghiscari? They are not there…or rather, they are, but GRRM doesn’t bother showing them, and seems more than a little disinterested in the people he does show. He finds “the human heart in conflict with itself” in so many other parts of the story, yet not here.

This is where Jon ends up RE the wildlings:

“I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?”

This is where Dany ends up RE the Ghiscari:

It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy.

The latter is never countered within the text itself. We are not shown how Dany is wrong. This is a problem. (I say that even while worshipping at the altar of Dany X ADWD and recognizing that moment’s place within her personal arc; vast, contain multitudes, and so on.) But this failure of empathy, imagination, dramatization, and humanization did not occur in isolation. This is a major problem with the genre as a whole, and it’s honestly one of the reasons I’m generally much more of a horror and sci-fi guy than a fantasy guy. Those have their own issues, of course (because, again, everything we create does), but fantasy’s history lends itself to a particularly colonialist-nostalgia-tinged take on things. That is far too big a subject to summarize here, and of course concerns our relationship to all media, not just fantasy stories. So, given that a picture is worth a thousand words…Peter Jackson knew to cut Tom Bombadil, but he didn’t know to cut this:

So when I say that the way GRRM has written this fantasy story speaks to a racial blind spot, I am not making a problem up out of thin air because I want to be mad about something, as is the all-caps accusation every single time anyone brings this up. I am saying that this is yet one more nail, and that while GRRM has addressed many of the genre’s tropes and cliches with style to spare, he has also proved willing to take some disappointing and well-trodden shortcuts.

anonymous asked:

can you maybe write something about richie and eddie's first kiss where edddie takes richie's glasses off right before? im dying of feels for these boys who'd get so nervous around each other

He wanted to kiss him.

Hi, i hope this is okay! Sorry for any mistakes.



During summer Sunday afternoons, the Derry theater was the place to be. For most days, all the losers would come running into the dark building to escape the outside heat, and find their seats where they’d take up half the row and kick their feet up.

The Derry Theater always had a summer deal, or ‘steal’ as Richie liked to call it. They’d play classic hits for 3.00 per ticket, and snacks would be down a dollar.

“We should see E.T.,” Mike suggests.

Richie argued back, “No way! Gremlins is the way to go.”

“We saw that two weeks ago, Richie.”

It would usually take about 15 minutes before everyone either gave up or finally all decided on one film they could agree on.

But today was a rainy, dark Sunday.

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On My Own (Harry Hook) Part One

“You swore you’d never hurt me.”

“You swore you’d never leave me On My Own.”

Part Two, Part Three


“Y/N Facilier, you sly little guppy you!”

     You laughed as the thick accent filled your head. “Hary Hook,” You greeted, turning to face the young pirate. He held his trademark hook in his left hand, a sword in his belt, and his tricorne hat perched upon his head.

     “The one and only,” he replied, giving you a swift bow. Sometimes this boy was just too much.

     “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, one hand hiding behind your back to slide a golden locket into your back pocket. The locket belonging to the one and only daughter of Ursula, Uma. The brunet pirate let out a chuckle before standing to face you, right hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

     “I’m afraid Uma isn’t too happy with you, Kitten. After all, you did take somethin’ that doesn’t belong to you.” He slurred, strutting over until he was right in front of you. “And that wasn’t very nice.”

     You chuckled as his hook came to gently caress your jaw. “I’d hate to ruin a pretty face like yers. So why don’t ya just fork it over to ol’ Harry, Princess?” He whispered softly, though you could feel the weight of his threat as plainly as the feeling of his cold hook against your skin. But, unfortunately for him, you weren’t one to back down easily.

     “I don’t have the slightest clue of what Ol’ Harry is talking about. I’m Kitten not Princess, remember?,” You replied smoothly, a slight smirk tugging at your lips as you mocked the pirate’s (albeit attractive) accent. You were surprised to see a smirk tugging at his lips as well.

     “Is that so? Then what might this be, hm?” He asked you, using the hook you had been too distracted to notice to slip the necklace out of your pocket and dangle it in front of your face.

     “Gee, how did that get there?” You asked with a mocking gasp. Harry opened his mouth to reply but you cut him off with a swift, “Well, I’d hate to cut this visit short but I really must be going now! Bye, Jerry!” Before placing a kiss on his cheek (to momentarily distract him from the fact you snatched his hat off his head) and running off.

     “It’s Harry!” He called after you, running his fingers through his hair. “Something’s not right…” he mumbled to himself, slowly beginning the trek back to Uma’s ship, feeling the breeze running through his hair. He stopped. There shouldn’t be a breeze running through his hair. His hat would have stopped it. His hat!

     “Why, you little snake! GET BACK HERE WITH MY HAT!”


     “Do you think we’ll ever get off this island?” You asked Harry from where you laid curled up on the deck of Uma’s ship. Harry chuckled, taking your hand that was idly tracing shapes onto his chest and pressing it to his lips.

     “Of course we will, Lass. Uma can do anythin’. She’ll get us off of this bloody island. We’ll rule Auradon someday,” He replied. You frowned slightly.

     “But I don’t want to rule Auradon. It’d become just as bad as the Isle,” you mumbled, staring up at the black sky above you, wishing that for once you could see the moon and the stars.

     Harry chuckled slightly, “You have to be the least ambitious Villain I have ever met,” he teased, rolling over on top of you and tickling at your sides until you were squirming like a worm on a hook.

     “Well at least my goal in life isn’t something like getting my hand eaten by a lazy crocodile like my father,” You teased. You would never let him live down the day he stuck a fish on his hand to try and entice Tick Tock to eat it.

     “No but yer goal could be to grow a mustache like him. It’s already started!” He teased back. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

     “You take that back!”

     “Make me!”


     “Hey, Y/N?” A voice brought you out of your own thoughts. You were alone in your ‘apartment’ after a fight with Harry. He wouldn’t stop bringing up Mal again.

     “Oh hey, Gil. Come on in,” you greeted, smiling at the blond boy. You never had anything against Gil. Despite his father being a pompous airhead, he was a really nice guy, though not the brightest.

     “I need to talk to you. About Harry.” The tone in his voice made you sit your book down, giving him your undivided attention.


     “Kitten, I’m home! Ready to grovel for yer forgiveness!” The pirate called out as he stepped into the apartment. He frowned slightly. He could feel a storm brewing. And not the kind with rain either. The kind that often results in him taking a book or two to the head. He slowly followed a trail of tissues to the bedroom the two of you often shared when he didn’t feel like going back to the ship.

     “Oh no, darlin’ what’s wrong with you?” He cooed as he spotted you hugging your knees on the bed. Hurrying over, he wrapped his arms around you, gently rocking you back and forth, feeling teary eyed himself. You never cried, so on the rare occasion you would, he would end up joining you at the sadness of seeing your tears.

     “Go away, Harry,” You whispered in a cracking voice.

     “Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you. Who hurt my little Kitten, hm?” He quizzed in a soft voice, wiping tears from your cheeks.

     “Go look in a mirror to find out. Or go find that ship captain you sneak off to see,” You seethed, anger replacing sadness as you watched his expression shift from concerned, to confused, to shock and guilt.

     “Now Princess, let me explain,” he started, only to be cut off by you. “Explain what, Harry!? That you’ve been cheating on me with your Captain!?” You yelled, the anger finally pushing itself out of every pore in your body.

     He at least had the decency to keep his mouth shut while you yelled at him. You finally told him how he made you feel when all he could do was complain about Mal leaving, or obsess over Uma’s latest stupid plan to leave the Isle which everyone knew would fail. How worried you would be when he’d come home at odd hours of the night, reeking of booze and perfume.

     But, then he came back at you. Accusing you of spying on him, trying to be his parent instead of his girlfriend, and even having the audacity to accuse you of cheating on him! With Gil of all people!

     And by the time he stormed out of your apartment that night, you both believed you were in the right.


     “On behalf of King Benjamin and Lady Mal, you have hereby been invited to join in the academic year at Auradon Prep,” You read from the scroll, eyes wide in shock. “You mean… I get to leave the Isle? And attend an actual school?” You asked, staring at the smiling man in yellow and blue that had appeared in your apartment.

     You felt like you could burst into tears at the sight of his nod. So you did.


     “I’m going for a walk, Lads,” the brunet pirate called out to the other members of Uma’s crew before strolling off of the ship, pretending he had all the time in the world. Even though he knew he only had about ten minutes left before you left for Auradon.

     He kept to the shadows, leaning against a building nearby while you put your belongings into the trunk of the limousine. Nothing fancy, just a small sack of clothes, including a few choice items gifted to you by a certain pirate. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone.

     You could feel his gaze on your back so you turned, getting one last look at the brunet boy you still harbored so many feelings for. But, upon meeting your gaze, he turned his head, clenching his jaw tightly.

     You sighed. “Goodbye, Harry Hook.”

     And with that, you took your leave.

A/N: So what do you guys think? Want a part two?

Toxic (One Shot)

A/N: Happy Bisexual Pride Day, guys! I’m super sorry for the lateness of this hehe. I’m going to post a fic for each individual day this month, starting with this one and I’m excited as heck. :D I hope you guys like it! *throws glitter into air*. 🌈 ❤️ (The fic was inspired by this song, by the way ;)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: M/F/F. Bisexual!Reader. Sex (Obviously lol). Daddy kink. Natasha is the perfect mistress! Bucky is the ultimate daddy ;) Threesomes. There’s a sex gif as well so beware lol. 

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