like if he replaced one of the fears

Voltron Headcanons~

-Lance used to make really shitty, low quality videos with his siblings and posted them on youtube.
*They had like 40 subscribers and they were all family members except for Hunk.
*When Lance became a paladin he started recording himself talking about his day every day so his family wouldn’t miss anything even if he never went back.
*The only one who knows he does this is Pidge, because she accidentally heard him when she was in the vents.

-Pidge is ALWAYS in the vents. She thinks they’re very useful in battle and to get information.
*She wanted to get back at Hunk for reading her diary.
*She’s still crafting her plan.
*She has some good blackmail material, tho:
~Shiro’s eyeliner actually takes about two hours to get right, that’s why he always wakes up first.
~Keith spends an hour looking at himself in the mirror and trying to fix his hair every time Lance insults it.
~Lance actually likes Keith’s hair (see: Lance talking to himself and recording it).
~Allura spends all the time she’s in her room doing weird poses on the bed and she falls at least three times per day.
~Hunk has nightmares with Iverson and will wake up screaming not to fail Lance again.

*She hasn’t been able to find anything about Coran, though.

-Keith is lactose intolerant.
*Which means he’ll eat as much dairy as he’s physically able to in space.
*Pidge thinks it’s funny. Lance has an ongoing migraine.

-They have inside jokes.
*The goo is hot and burns Hunk: “Goo, I can’t believe you would do this to me. We had a BONDING MOMENT. I CRADLED YOU IN MY ARMS.”
*Pidge and Shiro will randomly shout: “YOU KNOW YOU LOVE THOSE PEAS, DAD. "The rest of the team is very confused.
*Pidge: VOLTRON DRINKING GAME! You drink every time someone rejects Lance. Keith: Pidge, do you actually want to die? Lance screeching in the distance.
*Allura actually asked what the quiznak a British was when Pidge commented on it. Lance hasn’t stopped laughing yet.

-Hunk’s cooking abilities come from his moms, who owned a family restaurant in their hometown.
*When Lance went to visit and first ate their food he cried.
*Similar reaction to Hunk’s when he visited Lance’s family.
*The day those families get together it’ll be madness. (Hunk: Delicious madness).

-Keith and Pidge are best friends.
*They first bonded over their beef with the Galra.
*Then about being sad with no family.
*Then about how annoying Lance was.
*By the time Keith started talking about Lance more than to say he was annoying, Pidge was too invested to ignore him.
*If she has to hear one more line on Lance’s eyes she’ll murder someone, though.
*She’s tired.

-Pidge goes by both binary and non-binary pronouns.
*She doesn’t care.
*He doesn’t care.
*They don’t care.
*She’ll fucking fight you if you assume based on stereotypes.
*Someone: but you look like a boy! Pidge, wearing a "feminine” outfit: Bitch, you thought!

-Shiro loves reading.
*His favourite book is Pride and Prejudice.
*He owns a copy that looks like it’s been run over by a truck.
*Keith once tried to convince him to replace it and that was the first day he feared for his life.

-Talking about books, favourite books:
*Lance’s favourite book is The Fault in Our Stars.
~Try to talk badly about it and he’ll fight you.
~If you make a reference to it, he will cry.
~“Maybe Voltron will be our always.” “DAMN IT, PIDGE!”

*Hunk’s favourite book is a cooking book his mom got for him when he was like 8.
~He’s not much of a reader unless it has to do with cooking and or engineering.
~If he does read, he likes fantasy and romance.
~Him and Lance have cried over many fictional things over the years.

*Pidge’s favourite book is The Art of Being Normal.
~She doesn’t think the story is perfect, but it made her feel a lot of things.
~She’s also partial to sci-fi. Asimov is her god.

*Keith is a Harry Potter boy.
~He didn’t have many books in the shack.
~He’s reread them more times that he can count.
~“What do you MEAN you haven’t watched the Harry Potter movies?” “Why watch the movies when you can READ THE BOOKS?”

*Allura’s favourite is the Altean equivalent of Romeo and Juliet.
~She likes that they all die at the end.
~“They deserve it. Idiots.” “Allura, no…”

*Coran’s favourite book is the Universal Encyclopedia.
~He’s working to get Earth included because he finds humans fascinating.
~“So you just… take them in your house? Aren’t they wild animals?” “They’re just dogs.” “Incredible.”

-Lance remembers the bonding moment.
*He just said he didn’t because he was bitter Keith didn’t remember him.
*It keeps him up at night.
*“I’m such an idiot.”

-Keith remembers Lance from the Garrison.
*He didn’t at first because he was still in shock from Shiro.
*It also keeps him up at night.
*“Lance is such an idiot.”

Krasivaya-Chapter 2

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years. You are deeply, completely, in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister. What happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Depression?, Anxiety.

You wait patiently at your favorite cafe for Bucky to show. It had become a tradition that every Sunday you and Bucky would meet for brunch and catch up on each others lives. Life could get hectic as an Avenger, often seeing you parted for weeks on end, so the ritual had been born out of necessity before becoming a simple pleasure. It was a bright spot in your week, a reason to get dolled up, and garnered you Bucky’s undivided attention for more than ten minutes at a time. Maybe it was kind of desperate, maybe it hurt as much as you loved it, but you wouldn’t trade that quiet time with Bucky for anything in the world. Especially now.

Bucky and Melissa had been growing ever closer over the last week. Bucky had been paying less attention to the other people in his life, and, after a stern talking to by Steve, you were roped into broaching the subject with the metal armed soldier. Steve figured coming from you, it would carry more weight, and wouldn’t end up with Bucky growing defensive, or giving you the gears about being jealous that he had a girl when Steve didn’t. You wanted to kill Cap for making you do this, but… his distance was beginning to hurt team dynamics, so you’d reluctantly agreed.

The only problem was he was late.

You had been sitting in the cafe for a good forty five minutes, and were starting to get sympathetic looks from the other patrons. Taking out your phone, you send a text to Bucky, inquiring about his whereabouts. Another ten minutes went by and still no answer was forthcoming. Fidgeting with the edge of your coffee cup, you debate whether or not to give this up as a bad idea and go home. Bucky obviously had better things to do.

You should have known, or at least asked him if you were still on for the date. Biting back the tears forming in your eyes, you flag down the waitress and ask for the bill. The pity written on her face has you feeling even worse. Throwing down some money, you hastily exit the cafe.

Ducking into an alley, you sink down onto the garbage strewn ground, finally letting the traitorous tears fall.

He’d stood you up. The realization is devastating, drawing up all the old hurts and fears you’ve struggled with since meeting one James Buchanan Barnes.

Anger replaces heartbreak. Tears dry up. The sharp sting of rejection fresh in your psyche. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. It wasn’t his fault you were this… this lump of uselessness.

He was too good for you. Too pure. Too handsome. He belonged with someone like Melissa. It was time you accepted it.

Picking yourself off the floor, you reach inside your handbag, pull out a compact and try desperately to fix your face. You square your shoulders, and set out to make the long trek home, resolved to keep your distance from Sergeant Barnes.

The walk does you a little good, helping you put things in perspective. It clears the stuffiness of tears from your head at least. The bustle of the city moving around you, carrying on as if your world hadn’t just crashed to ashes at your feet, helps soothe some of your anxious soul. Life moved on, and so would you. Or, so you tried to convince yourself, but the lies you tell yourself are always the hardest to believe.

Exiting the elevator, you stride into the common room only to hear the giggling of Melissa and Bucky from the couch. He’s crouched above her, tickling her while she squeals in delight.

It makes you feel physically sick to watch them together. Lips curling in disgust, you stealthily try and make a hasty exit, but super soldier hearing foils your plan.

“Krasivaya? Where have you been?” Bucky pipes up from the couch, a wide smile plastered on his face as Melissa breathes heavily underneath him.

You stare at him for a full ten seconds before you realize he truly didn’t remember he was supposed to meet you. “I was at the Cafe,” you reply, voice as neutral as you can make it.

The smile slips off his face as realization dawns on him. He scrambles upright, leaping over the back of the couch, ignoring the indignant squeak coming from Melissa. “Shit, (Y/N)! I completely spaced!” Regret is written clearly on his face.

You shrug him off. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

He scoffs, “Of course it is! I bailed on ya!”

He reaches to grab your hand, a gesture done so often in the past it’s become second nature. You flinch away from him, taking a step back, you can’t handle having him touch you. The surprise in his face quickly morphs into one of hurt.

“Krasivaya..” he pleads.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, willing the action to keep you together long enough to make a hasty exit to find Steve or Nat or maybe just fucking run as far away as you can from this shit storm.

Bucky takes a deep breath, putting that charming lopsided grin on his face. The one that he knows will get you to do anything. Two weeks ago it would have worked. “Why don’ we hang out a lil’ later? Mel has to go home soon anyway, so I’ll be all yours.”

Anger makes an unwelcome appearance again. Now that his precious Mel was leaving he wanted to spend time with you? Fuck no! Squaring your shoulders, you raise yourself to your full height, which wasn’t all that impressive if you were being honest.

You look him straight in the eye. “No thank you, Sergeant Barnes. I have a date with a super soldier that actually wants to spend time with me.”

He looks stunned for a minute before he replies with a, “Sergeant?” confusion etched in his face. “(Y/N), I don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”

A small, despairing laugh spills from your lips. “I’m not acting any way. I’ve just come to some hard realizations is all. Some painful truths.” Turning to go, you pause, hand resting on the doorframe. “You did stand me up, though. Left me for forty-five minutes to become that girl that everyone whispers and stares at, pitying because she was too stupid to realize the man she was waiting on wasn’t coming.”

The pain and self-loathing you’re fighting manifests in a wave of power that causes the lights to flicker. It sends Melissa scrambling into the corner of the couch, her fear evident. Pleasure in the reaction streaks through you followed swiftly by guilt.

Exhaling slowly, you crack a false smile. “But don’t worry about it, sarge. It’s forgiven. You and Mel have a nice evening.” With a nod, you stride down the hall, ignoring Bucky when he calls your name.

Stupid, stupid delusional girl. What did you think was going to happen? That he would just miraculously fall for you? You were kidding yourself. Willing yourself to believe that you were worthy of a man like James Barnes. It just made you hate yourself more.

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Losing Your Humanity

Wanted to write something about Henry turning into a toon after seeing @squigglydigglydoo‘s Toon Henry AU  and @yunisverse‘s BATIM posts. So here goes. 

The changes had started off small. Little flecks of black in his blood, less creaking of his joints, more energy. He didn’t think much of it in the beginning. As long as he could run away from the strange ink monsters and evade Bendy and whatever Sammy had become, he was perfectly happy to ignore anything strange that might be happening to his body. He had been wondering if he’d get ink poisoning from wading through all the ink, but it vanished quickly. He hadn’t realized the ink was seeping into his body, changing it from the inside out. He started coughing a lot. He chalked this up to the dusty studio at first. Then he’d started coughing up blood. This, of course, was cause for concern. He almost didn’t notice the flecks of black mixed in with the usual red in his panic. The coughing ceased after only an hour or so, although only after he’d vomited up something which’s contents he didn’t particularly want to guess at. It was black and almost like tar in its consistency, with lumps roughly the size and shape of human organs. The substance felt slick and oily passing his lips, nothing like normal vomit.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Alex learning how to help Kara deal with everything being so MUCH on Earth- how to ground her when she's overwhelmed, stuff like that. (Your writing of Kara is amazing btw)

part one (alex will be in part two sry)

it’s not that she’s scared of loud noises or that she can’t deal with them, that’s not it at all. she fights aliens with guns that sound like cannons and when she punches through the air, the boom makes her ears ring for a second. so, no, loud noises don’t upset her.

except when they’re unexpected.

at catco, people don’t yell. they certainly don’t yell at kara. except miss grant, but kara expects that. and, of course, during heated meetings but again, that’s to be expected.

so at ten to ten on a tuesday morning, kara doesn’t expect to have men shouting at one another in the small space in front of her desk, or for one of them to turn on her and yell with such force that his face is turning an unnatural puce.

she watches spittle hit her desk like it’s in slow motion, and falls back, in the face of the unfamiliar, on anything that all that is familiar.

“how can i help you?” she asks, voice bright and sweet and, she knows, the perfect customer service voice.

“you can get cat from whatever fucking den she’s crawled into and get her here,” he yells and kara knows that she’s in a meeting with her legal team downtown so that’s not possible. “ask her why she thinks she can afford to cut us, if she thinks she’s gonna be worth shit without me,”

“miss grant isn’t available at the moment,” she tells him firmly, because that’s the unofficial rule one of the office: cat doesn’t come when she’s called. she certainly doesn’t come when a puce faced man yells about losing the job he barely even worked for. “i can make an appointment for you,” she offers, and she jumps when he slams his hand down on the top of her desk and scatters her things.

“get her here. now.”

“i’ll make a call,” kara tells him, and buzzes through to security. “hi sean, can you send a team up to miss grant’s office?” the puce faced mans face twists and now, she thinks a little dazedly, he looks a bit like a prune, and he grabs the vase off her desk and smashes it into the glass door of cats office.

it’s loud - so loud - and kara thinks he’s going to stop there but the glass door didn’t smash, just the vase, and he grabs her telephone next and throws that too and kara jumps to her feet, backs away. cat never instructed her what to do in a moment like this: it’s work and he’s human, and when kara cuts out any response that might be to stop him, she isn’t left with very concrete responses.

but then he throws her paper clip bowl and that’s what makes the door shatter. three strikes, and the whole thing spiderwebs and then bursts and it’s so loud, seemingly endless, glass tinkling down like a waterfall.

james bursts out of the stairwell, stops dead when he sees the destruction, and then when he sees kara standing frozen he starts up again and grabs the man by the back of his shirt and slams him into a chair.

“kara, you okay?” james looks worried and she nods, turns, and walks into cat’s office and out onto the balcony. she waits, head lifted toward the sun. she doesn’t have to wait long - james stays to talk to security and then he quickly follows her.

“hey,” he murmurs and she shakes her hands out before turning to him. when she gets like this, alex has almost always been with her. or she’s been at home at least. and what she needs is to hug someone familiar, be somewhere familiar, and she steps toward him and hopes that he won’t turn her away because she’s about three seconds away from shutting down completely and, and she doesn’t, she doesn’t know what she would do if she shut down here at work. cry, probably, and end up getting fired when cat sees.

the fear must show on her face because james’s forehead crinkles and he steps close. “what’s wrong? did you lose your powers, did you get hurt?” he runs his fingers over her hands and wrists and then cups her face, drags his thumbs over her cheeks and wipes the glass dust on his jeans. he plucks a few larger pieces from her hair and kara squeezes her eyes shut and leans slowly, slowly, gently, forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.


she keeps very still, a small part hoping he won’t push her away, but most of her wrapped up in hitting all the notes of familiarity she needs. his shirt is soft, he smells like james like sweat and ink and some sharp undertone of chemical she knows he uses for his home photo developing. he is warm and tall and - he lays a hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades and rubs carefully, and kara lets out a long shuddering breath.

“kara,” he murmurs, and she shakes her head a little. not yet. she’s not ready yet.

they stand there like that until james’s starts shifting, feet aching, and then kara pulls away. she still feels unsteady and her hands twist and she tugs at her fingers and james looks like he wants to pull her back to give her that little bit of comfort again but he obviously hears what kara hears, only a moment later, and lowers his hands.

“kiera…and my art director whom i pay exorbitant amounts of money to work not comfort.” cat tosses her handbag down on her couch, props her hands on her hips and glares at the door shattered on the floor like its destruction was its own fault and she expected better. “kiera, get someone in to take away the rest of the glass and replace it with that bulletproof version that doesn’t shatter no matter what you do to it. i want one with a supergirl guarantee.”

“a supergirl guarantee?” james asks, because kara doesn’t.

“that even she can’t break.”

“i don’t think that exists,” he points out, and cat shrugs.

“that’s kiera’s problem. what is kiera’s problem?”

“oh.” james frowns gently, not quite a glare because one doesn’t really glare at cat without fearing for ones job. but kars doesn’t mind - cat’s not being mean, not really. she can tell because cat takes a half step toward her before twisting back and away like she’s just stretching a little. “she was there when he broke your door, it was kind of upsetting.”

“she got scared?” cat translates, looking surprised. she narrows her eyes at kara and she can’t help it, her hands start to shake again and this is where the unexpected starts to unfurl: the loud noises had only been the start of it, now kara has no idea what is going to happen. she tries to calm herself and say that no matter what does happen, alex will be there for her and eliza and she’s had plenty of job offers, but that route of thinking doesn’t soothe and she thinks instead of her blanket at home and the hole she’s rubbed into the corner and the weird knitted pattern that resulted in strange knots at even spacing that she can roll between her fingers and,

“is the balcony helping?” cat asks her, and kara is surprised enough to meet her eyes. she nods. “stay there then. james, get some work and come back. i don’t pay you to stand around looking handsome.” he hesitates and cat arches an annoyed brow. “go, go.”

“i’ll be right back,” james promises her, and gives her hand a squeeze, and kara focuses on other points.

the colour of scotch directly across from her, cats heels tapping on the floor, the cushion cat pushes into her hands.

“i have issues with physical contact otherwise i would hug you myself,” cat tells her, then crinkles her nose. “well, maybe i wouldn’t,” she admits, and kara grins and huffs a small laugh. “do you need anything?”

kara shakes her head no. she’s pretty well versed in self soothing, and cat handed her a cushion with little bumps that she can run her fingers over. she’s good.

“hmm. even i won’t make you sit at a desk strewn with glass. you can leave early. make up for it by staying to midnight tomorrow, i have a call with australia i anticipate will take at least that long.” kara nods. cat looks her over. “you know, i’m surprised. after several past employees trying to kill me, i thought you were used to it.”

kara pulls out her phone and cat lets her, not commenting on the lack of reply. then her computer beeps a little and cat checks her daily calendar. she lets out a short, surprised laugh and folds her hand under her chin to press her mouth closed. her lips still curl upward though and she looks amused over at kara.

“ten am, get attacked by incompetent man. thank you for the alert, kiera.”

When you love someone, you don’t just stop. // SHAWN MENDES

Overview: Y/n is sent a picture online of Shawn kissing another girl and she gets upset about it, resulting in a fight when Shawn gets home

Requested: no

Tears continuously rolled down my cheeks as I huddled my legs closer to my chest, trying to find comfort in my own embrace. It was dark in my bedroom, the blinds drawn and lights off. Peaceful. Then the sobs, my own sobs, would break the silence and I couldn’t seem to stop.

My phone- chucked across the room, still had the picture up almost as if it was staring back at me, laughing. It had been sent to me so many times that here was no way that I could not see it. Her arms around his waist, his lips on hers. More tears, more pain, more… emptiness.

I felt like I was drowning, the water being my very own tears. I couldn’t breathe; the air I tried to get into my lungs seemed to be fighting back out. Gasping I get up, stumbling over to the bathroom and over to the sink. 

Retching, fluid from my stomach filled the sink, the bitter taste left in my mouth making me cry harder. Wiping my mouth I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess. The pony tail I had it in all day was falling out and my eyes were red, mascara marked on my cheeks.

Turning the tap on, I wash the sink out before filling my hands with the icy water and splashing my face. I dry my face before returning to the bedroom. I stare at the room.

Photographs line my dresser of Shawn and I. When we went to the carnival and he won me a stuffed giraffe. My graduation, me in my gown and Shawn standing proudly beside me. I walk over picking up the last photograph. 

It was our 1st anniversary and he had taken me to a fancy restaurant in town. I was wearing my favorite dress and Shawn wore an all black suit. We looked happy. Why wasn’t he happy anymore? 

Anger like a tidal wave, smashes into my body. I let out an angry scream, chucking the frame across the room. I push everything off the dresser, the glass smashing against the floor, shards going everywhere.

Heavy tears leak out my eyes again. Leaning against the wall I slid down till I’m sitting. I rest my head on my arms that are held up on my knees, the pain churning in my stomach.

“Y/N, I’m home!” His voice made that pain jolt inside of me. It was like the pain recognized the cause. My breathing quickened. What was I meant to say to the person that just broke my heart?

“Y/n? Are you here?” His footsteps echo around the house, nearing the bedroom. He walked in, noticing the broken frames first before his eyes landed on mine. He rushes to me, leaning down his hand outstretched to touch me but disgust fills my body.

“Don’t.” I say simply, scrambling away from him, venom filled with the one word.

“What? Sweetie, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern in his eyes. The fact that he’s worried makes the anger intensify. 

“Why would you care?” I spit, glaring at him.

“I don’t follow,” Shawn asks, confused.

Seeing my phone on the floor near me, I pick it up, unlocking it. The pictures are still there, still make my stomach flip when I see them, still make me hurt. 

Do you follow this?” I ask, showing him the picture. His face falls quickly. 

“I need you to understand-” He begins. I don’t let him finish.

“No- you don’t get to tell me what I need to understand and what I shouldn’t. You listen to me Shawn!” I blurt, tears forming in my eyes.

“When you love someone, you don’t just stop!” The last words come out of me in a scream, my hands coming up to shove him back. He barely moves an inch

“When you’ve been with someone as long as we have,” I sniffle. “You do not go about breaking up with them like this. You must have known when you started falling out of love with me. Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask hysterically.

“I.. I never stopped loving you,” He begs, tears rolling down his blotchy cheeks. This may be the first time I have ever seen him cry.

“Bullshit,” I scream, shoving him again. “If you loved me you never would have kissed her then came home and pretended like it ever happen!” sobs rack my body, air not seeming to fill my lungs properly. 

“What was it Shawn? What made you decide that I wasn’t enough?” I ask, the anger subsiding to be replaced with fear. Fear that I was never going to be good enough for him. 

“Nothing- You were perfect Y/n,” He says, finally reaching out to touch me again. I let him. For one moment, I just needed to be comforted. 

“I was going to tell you,” He whispers in my ear. I start crying again, shuddering in his arms.

“Please just let me explain,” he begs. When I don’t speak, he takes it as his cue to continue.

“I was out today and a bunch of fans found me, one of them a bit too excited. When I went to give her hug she kissed me, I swear upon my life that I pushed her back,” He says pulling back to look in my eyes.

“I think her friends knew what she was going to do because as soon as she did it they had their phones out,” His hands hold the side of my face, his thumb wiping away my tears. “Please, baby, believe me when I tell you, I never fell out of love with you,” His eyes are bloodshot from when he was crying and they search mine trying to read my expression. 

“I love you just as much as the day when I realized I was in love with you. My heart has been yours since that day and I have no hope of ever getting it back. The last thing I want in this world is to hurt you,”

I nod, my hands reaching up to cover his. “I’m sorry,” I croak.

“It’s okay sweetie, you didn’t know,” he kisses my forehead gently, wrapping me in his arms again. “You didn’t know,”

Originally posted by pride-direction

some Antisepticeye & Darkiplier things to point out

Okay so idk if other people have had the same thoughts, but I’ve GOT to point out some uncanny links between what happened at/before Jacksepticeye’s panel at PAX 2017 and in “SAY GOODBYE”, and what happened in “A Date With Markiplier”.

Here’s some footage taken at PAX by someone in the crowd:

Here’s the Anti part of the isolated video featured in the clip previous:


And here, of course, is “A Date with Markiplier”:

Ok so lemme start out by talking about Anti’s PAX “takeover”. He appears suddenly to usurp the intro video, but you hear him before you see him. The screen glitches a bit, convincingly enough to fool the crowd into glossing over it. But then the quality degrades, the track stutters noticeably and the screen blacks out. After a moment it explodes back to life and you see flashes of some of Jack’s previous videos, blurring from one to another with the colour pallet all out of whack, faster and faster until it slams back to black. You hear Anti chuckle, and as he appears visually, the first thing he says to you is, “Did you miss me??”

Keep that in mind as we move on to a Date with Markiplier. Pay for the dinner, go to the horror play and Mark disappears from his seat. The screen starts glitching out and the viewer’s field of vision widens until the stage is all they can see, over and over. Rumbling sounds can be heard, and for a moment, the figure of Dark appears reflected in a couple of the frames. Faster, faster, a high keening sound and slam to black. After a moment Dark appears to address the viewer, and what’s the first thing he says? That’s right. “Did you miss me?” Those same words. They both pulled a Moriarty- kinda strange, right?

Now, one might think “what a weird coincidence, moving on-” because it’s kind of a creepy thing to say in such circumstances, and it might make sense that both Jack and Mark would go for such a line. But wait, let us continue, back to PAX and Anti’s speech:

“You stopped paying attention! Well I hope you’re happy. You found someone new, threw me aside- someone, to replace me!!”

We were all paying attention to Anti during the events leading up to “SAY GOODBYE”. That much is obvious. After said video, Jack made his Halloween vlog and most of us thought it was over, at least for a while. We weren’t sure if/when Anti was going to come back, and we certainly didn’t expect it to happen as soon as a mere three months after the apex video, in which Anti won, so to speak, and Jack was apparently murdered. I wouldn’t say we forgot about Anti- its awesomeness lingered long after “SAY GOODBYE” was posted- but yes, we moved on to other things. Things like “a Date with Markiplier”.

Anti had his moment in the spotlight, retreated back into… hiding, or whatever you want to call it, and that’s when Mark’s Darkiplier project started, the countdown reaching 00:00:00:00 on Valentines’ day. If I remember correctly, Jack started to bring Anti back in the second episode of his Detention series, on January 25th. Between Anti’s two active periods, when he was on hiatus, Dark was running amok and had become our main focus.

What I’m getting at here is that when Anti says we “stopped paying attention”, and “found someone new”, someone “to replace me”… I think he means Darkiplier. I’m pretty sure Anti’s pointing out that he doesn’t appreciate Dark stealing the limelight and distracting us from him. He was/is jealous of Dark for holding our attention, and that might be one of the reasons he’s come back- to prove that he’s not gone, and that Dark isn’t better than him.

Which ALSO means that Anti is, somehow, aware of Dark’s existence, and possibly vice versa.

Dark used very similar dialogue to Anti as well, if you remember. In the “HORROR” video, he says,

“I’ve been pushed aside… replaced… mocked.”

It sounds like he’s talking about Mark, and he very well might be. It sounds like Mark has pushed Dark aside- out of fear, or a desire to live his normal life without Dark’s interference, whatever the case may be- but the wording is really similar to what Anti chose to say at PAX mere days ago. They both describe being “replaced”, and say that they were “pushed aside”/”threw me aside”. Although Dark could be talking about Mark, he could also be talking about Anti in a way, or both at once if you go for the double meaning interpretation.

This is where the cohesion of what I’m saying stars to crumble a little bit, but bear with me: Let’s say Dark was also talking about Anti as well as Mark when he said he was “pushed aside” and “replaced”. One might think, “Well that can’t work, because canon Dark didn’t exist when we first started glimpsing Anti flickering in Jack’s facecam.” Well… he actually did, to a certain extent. In a couple of Mark’s older videos- notably “Relax” and “Surgeon Simulator IN REAL LIFE”, Darkiplier appears. It’s an older, cruder version of Darkiplier, but it’s Dark nonetheless. (When in doubt, check the subtitles.) Back then, at least as far as I’m aware, Dark was the only one of his kind who had actually appeared in videos and not just in fanart or fanfiction generated by the community. And for a long time, he remained like that, in a class all by himself. But then Anti happened, blowing him out of the water by a lot. Dark came back afterward possibly for several reasons, one of which could be to take our attention back from Anti, to move it onto himself. (This link has less integrity because “relax” and “Surgeon Simulator IN REAL LIFE” were posted seven and ten months ago, respectively, so the connections between those and more recent events may or may not be 100% purposeful.)

If that last part is true though, then their argument has been going on for quite a while. If not, well, there’s still an argument, still jealousy going back and forth as they battle for our, the viewers’, enthusiasm. It’s just a little more recent.

Long story short, I think @therealjacksepticeye and @markiplier are in cahoots, and we may or may not have something bigger to look forward to.

Sorry for the huge post, haha I just had to get all this out of my cluttered brain.

| Captive | King George III

*Princess Augusta, King George III’s mother, died three years before the start of the American Revolution, but events have been changed to match the oneshot.

*Also, this is the first time I realized King George and Washingdad have the same name as I was writing. I’m an idiot.

“You have a letter Mr. President.”

“What?” George’s tone was harsh, unforgiving. The man delivering said letter jumped in alarm and George sighed, calming himself down.

“I’m sorry,” His voice was tired, dark purple bags lining themselves underneath his eyelids. He brushed a hand up his face, sighing deeply. The man had been having the worst few months in his existence. His daughter, his precious girl, had disappeared right under his nose. There was a full watch sent out, a large sum of money being given to anyone who could bring you home.

Of course many people had tried to bring forth people who looked similar to you and get the reward, but George wasn’t an idiot. He knew his daughter down to the very quirk of your lips.

But it had just passed the benchmark of three months. Rumors had started to brew in the streets. What if you had simply run away? George had dismissed such claims  at the beginning but now he began to worry. Had he been hard on you? Was it the revolution? Did you truly feel suppressed enough to run away from him?

“Well?” He asked, becoming irritated again at the man who had hesitated to step forward.

“Ah…we haven’t opened it out of respect for your privacy but…” He bit his lip.

“Be curt young man!” George pursed his lips. The man winced.

“It is signed from King George III,” The man swallowed.

George felt his world stop.


“And? Bring it forward,” He reigned in his absolute shock in mind of his company. The man placed the letter on his desk before saluting and exiting the room on rushed legs.

“Poor lad,” George muttered, trailing the edges of the letter with his fingers. Such an innocent envelope, yet looking to hold the weight of the world.

He took in a deep breath to steel himself and opened it slowly, unfolding the paper.


Hello old pal! It has come to my knowledge that you are growing funnier than ever, rounding up that little army of yours. I have no doubts in who will win this petty little war you’ve started, but I suppose it would be good to have a few cards to deal with on my side in case of any surprising and impossible forth-comings.  

I looked into every corner of your life, and I came to find something I never noticed before. It was too interesting for me to simply put aside, and so I’m afraid I had to take it. What was the little thing’s name? Ah yes! Y/N was it?

Don’t worry about her. I delayed this letter to give you ample time to lose your wits in search for her in a land where she no longer stands, and so by the time this arrives I am confident you would be quite hysterical. Delightful isn’t it?

So yes, I have her, she’s my hostage, blah blah blah. I’ll be keeping her I’m afraid until I have you successfully back under my colonial rule. She misses you terribly I think, won’t stop blabbing. Although she did become rather quiet of late….do you suppose I’ve broken her?

Anywho, I give my utmost preeminent regards!


Your loving ruler,

King George III

George stared. He let his eyes roam over the ink twice, five times, ten, till every word had been memorized, till he was sure he hadn’t let anything go by.

His hand holding the parchment shook, something burning in his nose and wetly behind his eyes. Intense worry and despair flooded his senses before it was replaced by a burning anger that made his vision go red.

His fingers tightened into a fist, crushing the letter with one action, now shaking for another reason entirely.

“General?” A commander knocked briefly before entering. “The ranks would like to know if- General?”

George’s eyes were covered by the shadow of his own face before he looked up, and the commander stiffened, feeling ice cold fear run through him at the bloodthirsty fire encompassing those usual warm brown orbs.

George smiled, and it was feral. “Gather the men.”

Your nail scratched down the wall.

The coarse, uncomfortable feeling no longer bothered you as it had the first time, and you gazed blankly at the tally mark finishing the five. The entire east corner of the room’s wall had been covered in similar tallies, one each day, leading up to where you now stood.

“Day 120,” You murmured, not bothering to push back a lock of hair than invaded your line of sight. One more day, and you would have been here four months.

Four months.

Four months without the American soil beneath your feet. Four months without so much as a glimpse at the blue sky. Four months without your father’s gummy smile.

At first you’d been thrown into a cell. After being drugged and carted over the sea for days, you awoke to captivity. You had been provided little food, no warmth, staying in the same dirty clothes for weeks. You had freaked out more or less, keeping yourself sane with delusions that someone would be coming to save you.

But nobody came.

And soon logic overtook your emotions. Why would they? No one knew where you were, so how could they possibly rescue you? And even if King George - you thought the name in disgust - sent word over to the west, it would be at least 4-6 weeks before a letter could even travel that far.

So you stopped your sniveling, put your chin high, and reminded yourself that you were the daughter of the goddamn general of America and you would not break.

The moment you’d stopped being overly sentimental, you were transferred to this room. It was utterly different than the dank, dark tomb of a cell you’d been objected to for weeks. It was prim, proper, had a king sized bed, fitted with a dresser and mirrors and curtains that looked to be more expensive than your life. Servants came in and dressed you in magnificent gowns, complete with makeup and the standard white wig on top your head. The minute they left you tore it off.

What almost made you shatter was the shower that you’d been able to take. You vowed to not give in to whatever game he was playing, but didn’t object to taking an hour long bath with the lavender soap in the cubicle.

They had hot water. Hot water. Was this a magical kingdom?

You digress.

Of course you knew what was happening. He must have wanted you to develop some kind on Stockholm Syndrome towards him, where you’d be lathered in positive attention after dark treatment and grow an attachment to him.

Yeah right.

You might be a woman, but you weren’t an idiot, no matter what majority of men may believe about your gender.


There he was.

You had heard the calling so many times now that you could distinguish it from five miles away. The amount of loathing that came over you was enough for you to want to change your name just so that you wouldn’t have to hear it ever again in that doting tone.

The door creaked open, but you didn’t turn around.

“Y/N~!” The voice was more crisp, clear, endeared with a British accent you had been taught to despise. “I see you’re still marking the walls!”

You didn’t open your mouth.

“The silent treatment again?” You could practically hear the pout in his voice. “It’s gotten old now, dear. What must I do to get you to talk?”

The bed creaked and you knew he had fallen down languidly on the mattress, but you kept your vision aligned with the wall.

“Should I pry that pretty little mouth open?” He mused. You shivered at his words. Your father had had you at a  young age, barely nineteen. He had described you as a ‘miracle baby’, but all that meant was that he hadn’t expected to have you, and you knew it. You didn’t even know who your real mother was, but you had long since forgiven him for that. He was young and made a mistake. At least he didn’t abandon you.

Added to the fact that King George was almost ten years younger than your father, the king was actually not lengths away from your own age, which disturbed you on too many levels to comprehend.

“Or maybe cut those fingers off till you scream?” He continued, now talking to himself, unaware of the effect it had on you. Or was he? “Anything would be better than this annoying childish behaviour.”

Childish? Childish?

You had to restrain yourself to not pounce on him the instant.

“Though I guess I could just send word to old Washy that I killed you. That would surely send him to his grave with worry.”

You broke.

“Don’t you dare,” Your voice was heavy with anger as you whipped around. Widened chocolate eyes regarded you in surprise, a grin stretching across flawless skin.

“Ah so she speaks” He exclaimed giddily. You immediately wanted to calm up again, but it was of no use. You had already given him his victory.

“What are you here for today?” You asked, even though you knew. Its what he came for everyday. As a King you would think he had his schedule full, but he somehow made time every single day to come and pester you for the same thing.

“Oh you already know darling. So why don’t we make this easier on both of us?”

“I’m not becoming a spy for you,” You muttered, voice robotic. You had repeated the words so many times it was second nature. “I will not become a prostitute or anything of the matter. I definitely will not give you any information regarding the plans of my father for the war-”

“-and I will not succumb to any of your wishes,” He finished for you, rolling his eyes, and lolling his head back, shifting into a more comfortable position in which he could still see your face. “I know the drill princess. Then what good are you for?”

Your mouth shut. The playful tone had been sucked out of his atmosphere entirely at the last sentence, his eyes alight with something hypnotic, menacing, intimidation slamming over your head so quickly you froze up entirely. You were sure you were about to be sentenced to death then and there, but then he was back and the monster was gone, a smile lighting up his face, forming tiny dimples along his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes.

“I’m just messing with you!” He said, getting up from the sheets and patting your back roughly. You flinched at the touch, deciding to scrub extra hard in the tub today. “I do hope you change your mind tomorrow! My patience does have a limit.”

You were given a glimpse at the insanity that lay beneath the surface of the cheer and exuberance as his gaze flashed something predatory before he was literally prancing out of the room, humming a catchy tune underneath his breath.

You collapsed onto the wall as soon as he left, your mask gone as you put your face in your hands. A shaking sigh left your mouth as you shuddered, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming onslaught of moisture that flooded your eyes.

Dad, please come quick.

The door opened.

You glared at the recent tally mark of 130. “You’re here early today. What? Got bored with terrorizing innocent subjects?” You could be killed for your talk to such an important figure, but you knew he wouldn’t harm you, and frankly you didn’t care. You knew he needed you as a ransom.

There was no answer, and you turned around in confusion, just in time for him to wrap his arms around you.

Panic flared within you but only skyrocketed as he dragged you down to the mattress. You kicked at him frantically, assuming the worst. No no you weren’t ready, you weren’t for use, he couldn’t take this from you you wouldn’t let him-

Confusion sprouted next as he didn’t lay any perverted touches on you, simply keeping you tight in his hold and burying his head into your hair. The soft but ragged breathing told you he was awake, but you didn’t dare move if he was unstable. You’d witnessed his absolute insanity before, and you didn’t feel like being at the end of it.

But why was he doing this? Was this another tactic?

But then why was he shaking?

So you stayed still, highly attentive, until he relaxed against you and his breaths evened out. Against everything you were, you let him hold you, ignoring the waves of revulsion rolling on your skin. You absentmindedly eyed a pair of scissors on the dressing table. You could easily slip out of his hold and stab him before anyone knew, take the life of the man who had ruined yours.

The thought ran through your mind another time before you disregarded it. Not now. Not only did you think you wouldn’t have the ability to actually bring yourself to commit the act, but killing someone in their sleep was probably the most cowardly of cowardly acts.

Does cowardice really matter when you are a prisoner? A voice whispered temptingly from the dark abyss of your mind. You crushed it.

You were not that type of person.

It was only later when you had been left alone again without a word from the king, that you discovered what had happened. There were hushed talks among the servants, the nobles outside your door.

The king’s sick and weak mother had finally died of laryngeal cancer in her sleep.

You were unsure how to feel.

At one end you absolutely wanted to have no feelings of remorse or pity towards George. But on the other you were far more concerned of why exactly he had come to you for comfort.

Why you? Were you not a mere captive?  A hostage?

Then you looked back. Every day.  He had visited you every day. You couldn’t bear to admit it, but even you grew used to his visits, and came to expect them with some anticipation. (If only to imagine ripping those pretty eyes from his skull). He must have grown attached to you at some point as well.

Could he have possibly grown a….liking towards you?

The thought was ridiculous but the evidence proved otherwise. And if so…if so…

You grinned slowly at your reflection in the mirror.

Maybe you weren’t the hostage anymore.

He continued to come. Earlier and earlier every day. You didn’t change your attitude towards him too quickly, knowing that you had to concoct your plan slowly in order for there to be no suspicion whatsoever.

But you ever so slowly changed the game. You began to face him when he came in instead of away. You let your hand ‘accidentally’ brush against his side. You made an effort to look presentable when he came in.

You even ripped a small piece of your mask away to allow yourself to give him a real smile once.

And you could feel him beginning to turn into putty in your hand. Your father would be proud of you, you thought. For tricking the enemy so well.

(Or would he? Allowing yourself to manipulate another so easily?)

And one fateful night, when George was tired, and it had been a hard day on him, and your eyes had been shining so brilliantly in the light of the candle-

You did nothing when his lips came down on yours, merely tightened a fist behind your back and brought the other to gently touch his cheek.

Hook, line, and sinker.

You had turned the tables successfully. You had him under just as much control as he thought he still had you under.

It was funny really.

You began to think of ways to escape. It had taken you so long to get him to trust you, but maybe a few more months and he would let you go outside, and then from there you could begin putting out plans to get back home.


The word seemed so far away, and yet so close.

America, wait for me.

One evening you were sitting upright the headrest on the bed, George’s head on your shoulder, the room silent. It was the rare occasion his customary royalty wig wasn’t on, and his soft brown curls brushed against your cheek.

He looked much better in your opinion. Not that you cared.



His eyes stared into space, as if he was seeing something you weren’t.

“Why are you doing this?”

For a minute you felt dread tinge your tongue. He hadn’t figured you out had he? You forced yourself to calm down. “Doing what?”

“This,” He shifted his eyes so that they were boring into yours, and it was as if he was unraveling your very soul. “I thought you had accepted this to ask of something of me, or try and grasp your freedom, but you’ve done nothing of the sort. What do you hope to accomplish?”

He must have been really tired if he was spilling his guts to you. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.

“Do I need to accomplish something?” Answer another question with a question, your dad’s voice lectured in your mind. Don’t ever let them see weakness.

“I would think so,” His voice was silk, rushing over your ears, causing you to relax your own guard much more than you wanted. “Unless you are idiotic enough to gain romantic inhibitions to your captor.”

“Well then I shall say the same to you,” You countered. “How does one gain such feelings toward their captive?”

“Touche,” He laughed before regaining his quiet. You grew worried. He had never been this sober before. Was there something seriously wrong?

“I am never letting you go,” He said suddenly. You blinked, but didn’t reply. His grip on your hand grew slightly tighter. “My sweet, submissive subject.”

You couldn’t help the adamant scowl that pulled your lips. Submissive??

“But you’re not,” He amended, watching the change in your face, eyebrows furrowing in uncertainty. “You have fire. And intelligence, almost. You are the strangest woman I have ever met.”

You stared back, struck speechless by his gaze. And for the first time, you found yourself leaning forward as well when he captured your lips with his, deepening the embrace till you grew hot with passion and thoughtless as you were pressed down into the mattress.

A knock on the door.

“George,” you said immediately. “Yo-”

An unfamiliar man stood there instead, a complacent smile on his face. You cleared your throat after staring in surprise.

“Ah, hello,” The man said, voice a deep richness, lines between his eyes that betrayed the amount of times he smiled.

There was a certain twinkle in those eyes as he walked towards you, his steps kept together and his back straight. He lifted a tape measure. “I am merely your new tailor, madame. Please let down your guard.”

You vaguely wondered what had happened to the other woman but nodded, loosening the tightness in your shoulders.

He was gentle as he lifted your arms and zipped around you, wrapping the measure around your waist and up your side. As he lifted your hair to stretch the surface of the material against you neck, he began to speak again.

“May I ask you your name, miss?”

“Y/N,” You said quietly.

“Lovely,” he complimented, and it wasn’t sleazy in any way, but completely genuine.

“Thank you,” A heat flushed up your neck and pooled in your cheeks at the gesture.

“Where did you get it?”

“My…father said it was the first thing he thought of when he gazed at my eyes,” You murmured, mood dampened extremely.

He hummed. “Interesting. I’m sure Washington wouldn’t like to hear you sound so downcast speaking of it though.”

You tensed. “What?” You tried to get away from the man but his hold on your shoulder increased so that you couldn’t - yet it was still somehow gentle.

“I mean what I said.” Then his voice dropped even lower, and he was whispering in your ear, even as he continued to look to an outsider as if he were taking your measurements. “Your father has sent for you. I will leave the door open when I leave, and you must follow my instructions.”

You nodded, befuddled, but feeling hope bubble up in your chest.

“Good. Now go left, and continue for about fifty feet before making a right then immediate right again. You will run into a baker, who is not one at all, and he will lead you out of the castle and to the harbour where a ship awaits to take you back to the mainland. Keep your head down, and your face hidden. Walk as if you have a destination, but do not stand out.”

You could only nod again, overwhelmed but committing every word to your memory.

“Oh and,” He straightened, hanging the measure around his neck once more. A wink was sent your way, a cheeky grin making it onto his handsome face. “Good luck.”

He went to walk out the door but you stopped him.

“W-Wait!” You said. He stopped and you stammered. “May I have your name?”

He contemplated for a second before smirking. “Mulligan. Hercules Mulligan. Now make haste Y/N Washington.”

With that he had swept out like he was never there, footsteps light and making no sound.

You stood there, watching the indeed open door, mind racing a mile a minute.

A tailor spying on the British government? Was this a trick? Was George seeing if you would run away given the chance? Or was this real? Were you really being rescued?

You turmoil-ed over the notion for several more seconds but every moment that grew on had you looking at the sliver of light shining in from the open door..

You made your choice.

And with that you slipped out the door.

“Ready, Madame?”

You jumped. “Huh? Ah yes…”

The baker-but-not-really, held out a hand, the sea-spray of the harbour assaulting your nose, and the wind whipping your hair. He had a foot aboard the plank of the ship, but you were still on the ground. You rose one foot but were confused when you paused. What were you waiting for? Wasn’t this freedom?

Brown eyes, and a childish grin, feet skipping out of the room.



You didn’t - you couldn’t -

Please no, you thought. I couldn’t possibly be…

The smell of his skin, incense and mint, the sensation of his mouth on yours.

You wanted to rip your hair out. NO. This wasn’t happening.

You blamed the salty air for your eyes tearing up as you accepted your helper’s hand and stepped up onto the ship.

You blamed the rocking of the boat and sea sickness for the lurching of your heart as England’s harbour grew further away.

You closed your eyes and thought of your father’s smile, drowning out everything else.

You were going home.

Where is she?!”

The adviser grimaced as another vase crashed to the floor.

“Sir-” Another crash, this time the desk against the wall, broken and tumbling to the ground. The sheets were torn, curtains ripped apart. “We can only assume she is back in the west. She was seen by a witness with a man in a baker’s attire, heading towards the harbour.”

King George grew unnaturally calm. “The harbour? Was she struggling? Putting up a fight?”

The adviser stepped back, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. “N-No sir. It is most probable she simply fled. She was a prisoner after all.”

“Fled…She fled…” King George mumbled, chuckling. The adviser swallowed, bowing slightly and excusing himself from the room in rightful fear of his life for delivering the news.

King George was a mess, hair in chaos, his crown on the floor, his whole body quivering in mad laughter.

An image of you smiling back home and expressing your freedom, taunted him. Betrayal and anger stirred deep in his chest but all he did was laugh.

His palm covered his face as he trembled, now bellowing full rolls of hysterics. “She fled!

The laughs simmered down to giggles as he braced himself against a wall, smiling through the spaces of his fingers.

“Y/N…oh Y/N…” A psychotic glint passed his eyes, white teeth splitting his lips in a grin. “You think you’ve escaped…”

You jumped into your father’s arms, feeling yourself encased in his strong hold as he kissed you all over, warm in his embrace. Yet you felt as if something was incomplete, apprehension still hanging over you as a tension you couldn’t shake.

This is just the beginning.”


Based on this awesome post by the always lovely @talortut! (I’m not ignoring the prompts in my inbox, guys! I promise! This post just spoke to me on so many levels, lol)

“This isn’t a game, Lance!”

There was a fire in Keith’s eyes that Lance matched with his own piecing glare. “I’m very aware of that, Keith!” He shouted back, arms flailing about in exasperation.

“Oh, really?” Keith questioned through a biting laugh. “Because you frolicking around through a bunch of fucking space flowers none of us know a single thing about sure as hell says otherwise!”

Lance’s blood was boiling. “They were fucking flowers, Keith! God, what’s the big deal?”

“Are you serious?” Keith spit out, crossing his arms. “We don’t know how our bodies react to space plants, Lance! We can’t exactly form Voltron and save the fucking universe if you get yourself killed!”

Despite his best efforts, Lance couldn’t keep his face from falling at Keith’s words. Of course Keith only cared about Voltron.

“Oh, don’t go crying about this, Lance.”

The annoyance dripping from Keith’s tone was enough. “Fuck you, Keith,” he hissed out, eyes narrowed dangerously. He turned on his heel and stormed towards the door to leave the room, not missing the grumbled “fucking blue paladin” from Keith as he shoved the door open.


Lance was jolted from sleep by a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomach, but when he tried to investigate with his hand, he found that he couldn’t lift his arm. A few moments of wiggling told him that he couldn’t move his entire body; it felt as if there was a giant weight crushing him to the bed.

Panic shot through his body as sweat rolled down his temples. His stomach was lurching violently, and his heart was hammering against his chest fast enough to have him gasping for breath. His mind said “move!”, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate- they couldn’t cooperate. The pressure was too much, and Lance’s throat was beginning to tighten.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but the only sound that came out was a burning wheeze that left him coughing harshly until his eyes watered. Panic was seeping into every crevice of his body now. Each cough rattled his lungs painfully, and the the pain within his stomach was only intensifying.

Keep reading

We Stick Together

Prompt: “You jump, I jump, remember?”

A/N: It’s a very short prompt but i wanted to write something quick since i’ve been so inactive. It’s been a tough few days and I’ve been feeling mentally ill… I don’t want to delve into it. Because I come here to get away from all that, but I did want to apologize for being inactive. But here is a story to help apologize! As well as the part 3 to my series “To Save You” should be uploaded either tomorrow or Sunday! So look for that.

Remember, requests of all kinds are closed!

Pairing: Jughead x Cooper!Reader, basically you swap placed with Betty but a bit different.

Warnings: angst. hurt/comfort.

Originally posted by jugheadjones94

This couldn’t be the end. Not this. Not now. 

You forgot that there was a person beside you. You forgot that there was some mysterious person who you didn’t know that was chasing you. You forgot that what you were doing was technically illegal. All you could focus on was the fact that you were wrong.

That all you had worked on to prove that you weren’t crazy. All that had led to this… was gone. Nobody would believe you know. Your mother would kill you. Your dad wouldn’t look at you the same. And Betty.. you didn’t know what your sister would do. She would probably crumble just a little bit more than she already was.

Then, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you were knocked back into the even more disturbing reality. Turning your head with tears in your eyes and your wet hair sticking to your forehead, you made eye contact with Jughead. You couldn’t read the expression on his face and honestly you didn’t want to.

“We need to go.” He whispered, his eyes drifting to the flare of flashlights that were coming closer by the second. You only nodded your head and then you were being dragged off by the wrist.

You didn’t know where you were running and or how you two were gonna get out of this situation. But you believed in Jughead, you let him lead you with full faith that his sleuth-ness would get the both of you out this situation.

But running aimlessly in the middle of the mountains and the forests wasn’t good, it was dumb. And soon your aimless running led the both of you to a pretty steep cliff. Nothing that would kill you, but it could potentially really hurt you in a broken bone kind of way. There was water, that’s what you’d land in, but it didn’t make you feel any better. Looking up at Jughead, you saw the same fearful gaze.

“What are we going to do now?” You whispered, hearing the yells of the mystery man behind you.

“We are going to have to jump.” Despite the situation, you still found it easy enough to take a step back from Jughead in shock, and stare at him like he was crazy. “What?”

He looked back unfazed, “What do you mean what? Y/N, if we don’t jump now, he or she, i don’t know, is going to get us.” He whispered urgently. His eyes were serious and you knew you couldn’t fight him on it, because he was right. But walking towards the cliff and staring at the semi-deep fall, you felt your heart climb to your throat.

This was too much. “I can’t.” You whispered, taking that step back again until Jughead’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. You opened your mouth to say something, Jughead had never really been the most touchy one. But when you looked his eyes and the unfazed look was replaced with fear you grabbed his hand back and walked back towards the cliff.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. “You jump, i jump, remember?” He whispered and then he jumped, pulling you along. You didn’t scream like you thought you would, not until you felt the water smack against you and you let out a small yelp before the water submerged around you.

When you could breath again, you immediately looked for Jughead. Wiping the hair from your eyes and search frantically until you saw him climbing on shore. You immediately swam towards him and he saw you, pulling you up.

You let out heavy breaths once your butt touched the ground, your shoulder hitting Jughead’s lightly. You let out a shaky breath; “i’m crazy.”


“No, Jughead. I’m crazy. Crazy like my parents. Crazy like Polly. I thought I could prove…” You stopped, feeling Jughead now in front of you. His hair dripped in front of you but you didn’t mind. Instead you focused on his eyes.

“You’re not crazy, Y/N.” He said, his tone forceful. You let your lip quiver, staring at him in confusion. He pressed his hands into your shoulders, making you focus completely on him. “You’re not crazy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not Polly. You’re not your mom or your dad. You’re you. And I know you, Y/N, your not crazy. You’re the girl i fell in love with.” You opened your mouth to respond, but Jughead lips fell on yours before you could. 

And it felt that maybe he was right. You weren’t them. You were you.

why Aresenal from young justice deserves more

okay so I’ve been thinking of Arsenal in young justice a lot lately, and every time I do I just get so sad. Like this dude has it so rough.

He wakes up one day, in some hospital bed, and one of the first things he learns is that someone took 7 years of his life away from him, and that he was frozen for 7 long years, while the world went on.

Then he learns he has been cloned and kind of replaced. Just learning that he himself was forgotten almost for good while he was presumed dead.

On top of all of that, he no longer has an arm. Sure he gets a prosthetic one, but his real arm was taken and he isn’t even sure what the hell happened. He couldn’t even shoot, the biggest part of his life.

With that, he’s bound to be a bit messed up. In the constant fear that someone is going to take him away again and his life will be wasted.

Then the team kinda treats him like shit. Maybe he did do a couple of dumbass moved but never is he helped.

He did end up taking the prosthetic arm from Lex Luther, but the guilt and him knowing Luther is out there without any punishment probably hurts him a lot.

This guy can be problematic, but sometimes those types of actions have justification.

Stay •Part 1• (Ward Meachum x Reader)

A/N: This first part is kinda short and not the best, but the second part will definitely be better!

“I can’t live like this!” You screamed, voice echoing throughout your large apartment. The tears on your face had dried up long ago, the sadness being replaced by anger.

“Like what, Y/N? Is it that awful to have a life of luxury and someone who loves you?” He quipped before taking a sip of his drink. He looked strong on the outside, his expression blank and dark eyes cold as he watched you carefully, but you could tell that he was breaking. His voice trembled slightly, the fear of losing one of the two people he cared about being too much to take.

“I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with this company! I love my job and I love you, but I feel that love turning into hate, Ward!”

“Oh, so you hate me now?” He chuckled lowly. “That’s great, Y/N, really. I’m so happy that you can hate me for your own damn mistakes!”

“Excuse me?” You asked angrily.

“You heard me,” he hissed, slamming his glass down. “You blame me for everything that goes wrong in the world. First it was your failed deal with that asshole that owned the club, then it was Joy taking your ideas for the board then it was Danny-”

“Ward, stop it!” You cried out, backing up as he furiously walked towards you. You had never been scared of him, hell, he was the one person you knew would rather die than lay a hand on you, but he kept going. His words slicing through you as his hands balled into fists.

“Are you scared that someone is finally putting you in your goddamn place? You can’t blame me for everything!” He seethed, continuing to walk closer. You hurriedly backed away, foot catching on the leg of the coffee table in the living room. You tumbled to the floor, hitting your hand against the glass corner of the table with a loud thud.

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaimed as Ward rushed forward to help you up. You recoiled from his hands that had placed themselves on your arms.

“W-What?” He stammered out as you stood up by yourself. He saw a small trail of blood dripping down the side of your hand and grabbed onto your wrist. “Hey, you’re bleeding, let me help-”

“Ward, stop it,” you whispered harshly, pulling yourself out of his grasp. You weakly attempted to swallow the lump in your throat, the shock finally consuming you. “I thought you were going to hurt me.”

“I would never-”

“I have to go,” you gasped out, heading to the door. Ward’s eyes were wide as he watched you begin to leave, his hands trembling as he shoved them into his pockets. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Y/N, please, don’t leave,” he begged, moving to follow you. “I can leave, alright? You just stay here and I-”


Ward didn’t know how long it had been since you ran out, but he knew it had been a few hours. He started out simply upset at himself for frightening you, so he sat on the couch with a drink in hand as he waited for you to come home. But when the sun had started to come up, his chest tightened with anxiety.

Fear crippled his soul as he thought about where you might have run off to. Were you hurt? Were you with a friend? Were you going to come back to him?

“Joy,” Ward gasped out as he pressed his phone to his ear. His eyes filled with tears and he began to pace around the apartment.

“Ward, what’s wro-”

“Have you heard from Y/N?” He asked shakily. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for her to answer.

“Yeah, she texted me a few hours ago and told me not to expect her at work tomorrow, or, uh today, technically.”

“No, no, no,” Ward muttered out, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Are you guys okay?” Joy questioned, stifling a yawn.

“We… We had a fight and I scared her, Joy,” he admitted, sadness laced through his voice as be began to sniffle. Joy never knew him to be emotional, and she immediately began to listen more carefully. “I don’t know if she’s coming back, and I can’t do this without her.”

“She loves you, Ward, she’s not just going to leave you.”

“You didn’t see the fear in her eyes. I acted like a monster.”

“Ward, you know that she loves you too much to just leave. You go get some sleep and I’ll look for her, alright?” She recommended, beginning to push herself out of bed. There was only silence on the other end. “Ward?”

“Y-Yeah, okay,” he gave in after a moment. “Call me if you hear anything.”

Tag List:

Moonlight Sonata

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

fandom: the hobbit

@nekodemon73 @kumpmk

The moon had risen high, a bright shining light in the dark of the night that led me through the forest.  

When I finally emerged from deep within I noticed one of the elves that were known to live here. He was leaning against a tree, his attention focused on something else. He would have heard me coming miles ago if he hadn’t been distracted.  

By nature, elves weren’t violent. They lived in piece, away from the rest of the world, unfazed by its troubles. You still had to be cautious around them. They did not like intruders in their domain and could be very cunning if it suited them.  

I slowly pull out my sword, not to use it but to be prepared. Moving forward as quietly as I can I stop when a twig cracks under my weight. A human like me wouldn’t have heard the sound this far away but the elf turns his head in my direction and raises a bow, directly aimed at my head. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at me. Did he expect someone else?  

He moves over to my side so gracefully and quick that I am shocked when his hand tightens around my arm and he slams me against a tree painfully rough. For someone who looked so innocent and beautiful he had way too much strength.  

“What are you doing here, human?” He hisses at me, malice laced in his voice. It was obvious that he did not like my presence here.  

“I…I was passing by…just passing by.” His harsh words caught me off guard and all I can get out is a mix of stuttered words.  

“Be quiet.”  

“But you asked!”  

“Human! Shut your mouth this instant if you don’t want to die a painful death.”  

At first I thought he was threatening me but then I heard it. Drums banging in the dark of night. The sound of war and destruction coming closer. I had heard it before. Orcs where on their way. It was a dreadful noise, one I had hoped never to hear in my life time but here it was again.  

“What are they doing here?”  

“I was about to find out when you stumbled in here with the gracefulness only humans posses, like a drunk troll trying to catch it’s pray.”

 "Excuse me?!“ 

“No, you are not excused human.”  

I began to wonder if they truly lived out here in the woods on their own decision or if everyone else had just been fed up with them. This guy made me furious. How could one person be so breathtakingly annoying in such a short amount of time? He was rude, plain and simple rude.  

“My name’s Y/N.” I say stubbornly.

“I do not care for your name.”  

“Fine. What’s your name then? I could call you rude elf but I have a feeling you wouldn’t like that.”  

“Thranduil and now be…”  

There was a loud growl behind us and I saw myself face to face with one of the biggest orcs I had ever seen. The will to fight quickly left my body and was replaced by fear as my sword slipped from my grip and landed on the floor.  

“Move!” I finally stop staring at the thing and look over to Thranduil who is frantically pulling at my wrist in an attempt to get me to move. I didn’t even notice until now.  

My feet finally start to move and he pulls me away with him just as the orc’s sword hits the spot where I stood only seconds ago.  

We’re dashing through the woods and I have troubles to keep up. I can hardly make anything out. It’s dark and cold. I spot a bush or tree stump from time to time but that’s it. Everything looks the same, trees all around me. I hope he knows where we are going because I certainly don’t.

I’m completely out of breath when we finally stop. Looking around, I can make out the outlines of a small cave.  

“Do you…” Two deep breaths to calm my racing heart and pump some air into my lungs, “Do you know where we are?”  


“No? But you’re an elf, you know everything about your forest!”  

“We’re not in my realm anymore, human.”  

“Y/N.” I mumble, knowing full well he won’t use it anyway, “What should we do now?” I ask in a whiney tone, having lost all strength and determination on the way.  

“We stay until the sun rises, the orcs should be gone by then. Do us all a favour and don’t speak until then.”  

How is it possible that I find the most cranky elf in all of history on my first visit here and manage to get stuck with him for the night? Was my luck really as bad as everyone always told me?

Kip Kinkel’s Hallucinations and Delusions

Kip reported that he began hearing voices when he was in sixth grade. The first time he heard a voice it told him, ‘You need to kill everyone, everyone in the world.’ It also told him, ‘You are a stupid piece of shit. You are’t worth anything.’ Thus, from the onset of his psychosis, Kip heard voices that urged him toward both homicide and suicide.

When asked where the voices came from, Kip had a couple of ideas. One idea was that he was hearing the devil. Another, was that the government might have put a computer chip in his head, with satellites transmitting messages to the chip.

Kip went on the describe three different voices: A, B and C. The ‘A voice’ was loud and authoritarian and told him what to do. The ‘B voice’ made derogatory statements to him. The ‘C voice’ repeated what the other two said or commentated on them. Sometimes he heard the voices talking to each other about him. Kip tried a variety of things to make the voices stop, including exercise, watching television, and punching himself in the head. After he was arrested and was giving his confession, he cried out about the voices and began banging his head against the wall.

Less than a month before the attack, Kip yelled in class, ‘God damn this voice inside my head.’ He was cited for misbehaviour, and a disciplinary form that quoted his outburst was sent home and signed by his mother. When his teacher asked Kip if he was really hearing voices, Kip denied it. He was painfully aware that being ‘crazy’ would lead to ostracism at school and be a major disappointment to his parents. Thus, his fear of being labelled as crazy prevented him from getting the help he desperately needed.

Kip’s delusions included paranoia that China was going to invade the US. In preparation for this, Kip had built bombs and stockpiled guns. Kip said about China: ‘They are so huge. They have nuclear weapons. Seemed like I would end up fighting them. I had lots of fantasies about fighting the Chinese.’ Another of Kip’s obsessions was his fear that the world was about to experience a plague. He feared the end of the world and the falling apart of society. He wanted to build a bomb shelter and accumulate food and supplies. Kip also believed that Disney was taking over the world and would replace the American dollar with the Disney dollar, featuring a picture of Mickey Mouse. In talking about Disney, Kip told Dr Bolstad, ‘No one of average intelligence sees it with Disney. You have to be smarter.’

Kip had other delusions. He said that sex criminals had chips put in them. He seemed to think that the television show The X Files indicated that the government was experimenting with putting chips in people. He said the chips could produce voices, adding, ‘Maybe that’s the way they’re controlling me.’ After the attack, Kip continued to be paranoid. Dr William Sack, a psychiatrist who worked with Kip in prison, reported that Kip thought visitors might have cameras in their glasses. He was also afraid his medication might be poisoned.

Besides auditory hallucinations, Kip may have also experiences visual ones. He told strange stories about a man who allegedly lived nearby and drove a car with bullet holes in it. Kip was so afraid of him that he said he bought a stolen gun because he needed protection in case the man came after him. It is not clear if Kip was paranoid about a real man who lived nearby, or if he was having visual hallucinations.

Adapted from ‘Why Kids Kill’ by Peter Langman

Promptio Werewolf AU Part Seven

Here ya go, guys. The beginning of the end. I warned you it was coming, and, well. Yeah. It happened. 

I want to apologize in advance because the last section of this is going to be part of my release for Promptio Week (specifically for Day One: in the dark/in the light). Meaning about a month from now. Sorry!! *sweats* But I will be putting the whole thing up on AO3 once it’s done, so there’s that! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (under the cut)

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anonymous asked:

prompt for u: Shiro having a really low libido due to stress and anxiety, to the point of bordering on sex-repulsed. (Probably because at this point he still associates being touched with being hurt.) Him trying to explain this to/talk it out with Matt. Bonus for any hideous awkwardness of trying to ask Sam for some advice on this.

I skipped to the bonus.  Warning for discussion of theoretical sexual assault.

Sam frowned, tapping his pen against his notepad.  “If you want, you can speak to someone else about this.”

Cheeks flaming, Shiro scowled at the floor.  “And who do you suggest for that?”

For a moment, Sam paused.  “Coran?  No, I suppose there’s no good answer for this.  Have you talked about it with Matt?”

Shiro shrugged, still not meeting Sam’s eyes.  “Some.  When it comes up.  Or, doesn’t, I guess.”  He winced at his own joke, shoulders climbing.  “He says he gets it, but it’s… I want to.  I do.”

“What’s stopping you?” Sam asked.  “Specifically.  Is it a lack of interest?  Was that something that ever happened before being captured?”

Gripping at his hair, Shiro took a deep breath.  “No.  I liked it before.  And yeah.  There is.”  The silence hung, probably meant to be non-judgmental, but Shiro could still feel the weight of it hanging over him.  “I just… I hadn’t even thought about it.  Until Matt.  It didn’t come up.  And then kissing is fine, or hugging or whatever else, but anytime it gets farther I think… what if.  You know?”

“What if you were abused in that way?”

Even without using the word, Shiro flinched hard.  

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Feeling smaller than other guys has never done Clint much good.

His childhood was not a fucking kind one and he was quick, quickest to learn to climb. The shelves, the fire escape, the top of the goddamn refrigerator, he saw best from a distance because he had to, but nowhere in their apartment was tall enough; the circus was a revelation.

Still, no matter how high he climbed, people around never stopped making him feel small, and nothing good ever came from that. He never got the growth spurt that circus teens promised him, staying stocky and low to the ground, like Barney, like his dad (and even then, even then climbing hadn’t goddamn helped, and he’d learned - how he’d fucking learned - that he didn’t like to feel small). So instead he built on what the good lord gave him. Clint trained and fought and learned and aimed, and the name was half a joke and halfway fucking feared, once the circus was replaced by SHIELD.

For a while, Clint felt like a new man.

But SHIELD gave him up to a team of superhero misfits, practically every one of them his height and more, and those that weren’t, able to fake it, in green and red and gold. Clint took to roosting around the tower because - safer was a strong word, okay, but small was a learned weakness that he knew before he could talk, and small had never gotten him into any place good.

So how was this -

How was this what he chose now? Backed against a wall by the door of his apartment, surrounded and towered over and cut off by a curtain of dark hair that fell forward when Bucky leaned into him?

Clint tilted his head back, acknowledged small and showed weakness, and Bucky gave him a slow small smile and a hesitant small kiss, and it was difficult to remember how small hadn’t ever been anything like safe.

Not All Monsters Are Bad

Submitted by:

Length: Short

I’m currently interrogating my sister about the monster in my closet. 

When I was ten, I had moved into her old room. I could remember the thing being in my closet ever since I’d moved into her room.  

Now, the thing isn’t bad. George (what I call it that, although I’m not sure of the gender) may be an asshole, but at least he doesn’t kill me. He likes to wreck my shit, though, and occasionally he scares me for, what I assume to be, fun. Let’s look back.

When I first moved into my sisters room, I was ten and literally had no fear. She had just moved out on her own, and her old room is much bigger than my old room, so here I am! I painted it blue, put up silly drawings and pictures and called it my own. The one thing we never replaced, though I really wanted to, was the closet doors. They’re sliding doors that are muddy pink color and are always super stiff. They constantly break, and were either not willing to move or was falling off completely. 

Anyhow, I wanted them replaced but we never found the time or money. The thing that always creeped me out about them is that the closet opens on its own in the middle of the night. Everyone tells me it’s the wind, but they literally will not open unless you throw your entire strength and then some into the effort. 

After a few weeks of living in this room, I noticed that things would go missing, become broken or moved without me touching them. For example, my favorite shirt went missing for three months. When I found it, it was 1) shoved into a dusty box (with a bunch of other shit that I don’t use) and 2) not at all dusty, just really worn (moreso than I had left it). There was also the time we found my mini makeup mirror from the bathroom smashed to bits. It was my favorite mirror and I always kept it in the bathroom so I wouldn’t lose it. And the time one of my journals came back with almost every page ripped out. 

The most prominent thing, however, is the doors move by themselves. I always shut them before I go to bed. I wake up every morning and they’ll be cracked open on the right side. At first I thought it was a breeze, but I sleep with the windows closed and fan off as it’s cold in my house all the time. Then I thought that it was my parents instead. So I locked my main door every night for a week and the doors were still open every morning.

Aside from breaking stuff, George is the biggest baby you’ll ever meet. Whenever I clean the closet, I would wake up the next morning with bruises on my legs. Once, I had woken up, taken a shower, and hissed in pain. When I got out, I asked my mom to look at my back. There was a big scratch running from my left shoulder to my right hip and three tiny scratches on my mid back. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but it stung like hell. I also covered the mirror once a woke up with lil cuts on my cheeks. 

I’m not sure what George is. I don’t think he’s a demon, because I have rosaries, holy water, and bibles all over my room (I’m Catholic). 

I had cleaned the closet today, so I’m expecting to find some kind of injury. I also put up coloring pages in there, and a poster to brighten up the space. 

So there it is. The weird story about the monster in my closet.  

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anonymous asked:

What are some fics i absolutely cannot live without reading?

Oh man… that’s so tough because there are so many fics out there like that! I’ll list the ones that I’ve personally read that I truly felt Alive after reading.

Wrath by Minerva Aemilius

Führer President Bradley has been killed in a freak accident, leaving the Wrath homunculus without a host. But a replacement has been found: an unwilling Colonel Roy Mustang. Now Hawkeye and the rest of his team fight to save him, and he struggles to survive, as Wrath takes possession of him and everything he holds dear. AU, Evil!Mustang, mostly Hawkeye POV, Royai.

Soulbound by Minerva Aemilius

A brutal terrorist attack has left Hawkeye dead and Mustang gravely wounded. But the surviving team members fear for Mustang’s sanity—and his life—as he refuses to accept Hawkeye’s death. Post-canon, implied Royai, Havoc POV, rated T for injuries/death. A deathfic with a twist.

The Elemental Chess Trilogy by Lady Norbert

Flowers of Antimony: "Fullmetal, you’re the only guy I know who can turn getting married into an international incident.“ Ed’s wedding plans get disrupted when unknown forces attack Central City. Post-Brotherhood, spoilers; ensemble. Volume 1 of the "Elemental Chess” trilogy.

Brilliancy: Amestris’s chessmaster will need the support of all his closest pieces when he’s challenged by an unseen opponent. But even if he wins, he still might lose… Post manga/Brotherhood, spoilers. RoyAi. Volume 2 of the “Elemental Chess” trilogy.

The Game of Three Generals: In this final installment of the Elemental Chess Trilogy, Fuhrer Grumman and the loyal allies of Team Mustang must stop the villainous Acheron…but can they figure out his plans before someone dies? Full ensemble, pairings as in two prior parts.

Survivor: Not Amestris by the-musical-alchemist

16 castaways. Two tribes. Who will outwit, outplay, and outlast? Who will be voted off the island? And which of these 16 FMA characters will be the sole survivor?

First Lady of Amestris by Queen Elenya Hawk (WIP)

With Mustang’s promotion to Führer, they both knew things would only get more difficult; but at least they had each other. The telling of Roy and Riza’s struggles in their fight for a better future, for themselves, and for their country.

Stairway to Paradise by RainFlame

Ed has been MIA for months, and when Roy finally finds him, he is blind and more than just physically injured. With the State honorably discharging him, and no father to speak of, Roy has no choice but to care for the boy and try to put the pieces back together. Parental!Roy. Rating for injury and violence, just to be safe.

Reverberations by Antigone Rex (WIP)

Post-Brotherhood Royai. In the wake of the Promised Day, Mustang and Hawkeye struggle to find normalcy. With a powerful new enemy and a growing Ishvalan Resistance looming at every turn, will they learn to understand one another before it is too late? 

Snapshots by royza-hawkstang (WIP)

My answers to the 100 Themes challenge for Roy and Riza, now round three! Rated T for safety. Warning: may contain anime/manga spoilers so read at your own risk. 253 - After comin so close to losing her, it was a relief just to hear her breathe.

hold me close, don’t let me go

nothing else existed in that moment other than the press of magnus against alec’s chest, the soft velvet coat under desperate, clinging fingers, the earthy, smoky smell of magic lingering on his skin. and alec loved him. it felt like something important had finally clicked into place, forced out by the excruciating fear that had taken over his every thought, his every movement. neither of them had the luxury of staying here, in this paused moment, wrapped up in one another outside the institute. for alec there was his family to check up on, the devastating task of tallying up the friends they’d lost today and sending out the fire-messages no shadowhunter ever wanted to receive. for magnus, the downworld was in mourning. seelies, vampires, werewolves. many needed healing, for one thing, and magnus was stubborn enough to refuse to leave the care of those that died up to nephilim.  

and yet, yet. alec pushed impossibly closer, nose bumping the sharp curve of magnus’ collarbone. breathing him in, again and again, reminding himself that magnus is here, he’s alive, he’s okay. magnus was no less guilty, tracing circles into alec’s back with the thumb of one hand, letting the other rest just beneath the hem of alec’s shirt where his parabatai rune curved hot beneath his fingers, the curve of his mouth pressed tight to alec’s shoulder. 

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