minds that collide


summary: Some things that lurk in the dark are nicer than others. || bucky x reader || monster au || nsfw

warnings: smut, oral [fr]

note: this is my fic entry for my favorite hoe’s (@rotisserierogers) halloween challenge! i chose the prompts “monsters aren’t real”“no need to be afraid.” I hope you like this, babe! 

Originally posted by sadistic-embodiment

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A/N: I was very much inspired by Amélie(The musical on Broadway) when I saw it during previews. Adam Chanler-Berat smiled at me and I met Phillipa Soo! It was quite the experience!

Part 2

You remember the exact day when your safe world got turned upside down. You remembered crouching behind the door to hear the strange man talk to your overly cautious father in the kitchen. Your mother had passed away when you were too little to recall her and since, your father didn’t want you in danger of any sort.

The conversation was normal, since their voices were not at all different. At one point, your father was talking in a hurried tone and the strange man with the long robes and white beard responded in a very calm matter.

Not understanding what they were saying, you stood up slightly and leaned against the door. Being homeschooled and a ten year old led to a lonely life. There weren’t any children around the house and, besides, your father only let you go to the gardens, where you played pretend that you had a more exciting life. Father didn’t particularly like that.

Finally, you heard the man say clearly, “Mr. Y/L/N, you can’t withhold her the opportunity of education. She also has to realize that she is not made of glass.” There was a small bit of silence until he continued, “Y/N, you can come in.” You were taken aback from the statement and walked into the room, prepared to be scolded for eavesdropping.

Your father, stoic as always, cleared his throat. “Y/N, this is Professor Dumbledore. He has something for you.”

With a twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore held out a letter that had your name on it. You looked at it curiously, since it was perhaps your first letter. You looked to your father, as if asking permission. He only nodded reassuringly so you carefully tore the envelope and read the letter inside.

Dear Miss Y/L/N, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Confusion was evident on your face so Professor Dumbledore quickly explained that wizards and witches are secretly a part of the world and you were of age to be admitted to the school that will teach you your powers. You were a muggle born, meaning your parents were both non magical.

You were in a daze the whole summer as you prepared for school. The brief taste of magic at Diagon Alley only made you want more. When your father dropped you off at Platform 9 and ¾, he asked for the occasional letter and to remember to be careful. There was no hug, only a slight pat on the back.

The train ride was long, but you were fine with looking out the window. You had never heard of most of the villages that were pacing. Only a few passed before the Hogwarts Express was in the middle of practically no where. Even on the way to your magical school, your fantasies of adventure enticed you to daydream the rest of the way.

A large man with a grey dog called for all the First Years when the train stopped and students were arriving on the platform. You remained silent, slightly intimidated of the excitement radiating off your fellow classmates. You didn’t say a word during the boat ride to the grand castle lit up with candles. You looked at it with amazement, but didn’t join in the chatter.

You blindly followed to the Great Hall. As the names in the Sorting Ceremony got closer to your last name, you found yourself afraid of the attention. When your name was called, you froze. People started whispering, saying you would definitely be a Hufflepuff. Knowing you just had to take a few more steps, you did exactly that and the hat was placed on your head.

It seemed to have conversations with some people, but the second it touched your head, its booming voice announced for the entire hall, “Gryffindor!” The uproar from the Gryffindor table made you scared, but for appearances, you smiled and sat down. The ceremony went on as planned.

While other Gryffindors enjoyed their own adventures and escapades, you found yourself hiding away for the next five years. You were always in the back of the classroom, always in the most obscure corner of the library that people only really used if they wanted to snog.

You took your father’s words to heart. After growing up one way, it was hard to suddenly change it. Sometimes you caught Dumbledore staring at you during meals and you’d hear the words he said in your kitchen. You reassured yourself that you were happy being looked over or forgotten. Sure, you had good grades, but unless you were properly courageous, no one would paid any attention to you.

Even the girls you lived with seemed to forget you were there. They would jump sometimes at the sight of you and nod in greeting. They never stayed in the room too much, so you didn’t mind.

Normally, your ability to blend in worked out well. The one day it didn’t would be the day that your life was forever changed. You were walking through the halls during your free time, with your head down. People would usually get out of your way, but the boy carrying at least five books and almost twenty sheets of paper didn’t see you in time.

When you collided, his papers and books went everywhere. You began helping him with his paper until your eyes met the warmest brown eyes you have ever seen. His eyes widened and his frantic movements stopped for a brief ten seconds. He was in a trance until the professor he needed to see turned into a classroom. Quickly, the boy gathered what he thought was everything and ran after them. “Professor! Wait!”

You wanted to shake yourself from the strange encounter, but saw his book that he dropped, but didn’t pick up. You hesitantly picked it up and walked in his direction, only to realize that you had no idea what door he went in nor his house. Deciding to hold on the book until you thought of something, you made your way to your dorm.

Since you began picking classes that wasn’t just part of a standard curriculum, you don’t see Remus as often during classes. Of course, he’d manage to be in the spotlight because of James and Sirius, but he was more reserved than them. Looking at the worn book on your lap in the dorm room, you wondered if it was used often or if it was previously used. It wasn’t a school book, but a sketch book. Your eyes widened at the detail used in the quick doodles and buried yourself in the pages.

In the boys dorm room, Remus entered with his pile of books. He uttered a greeting to his friends and roommates, before shuffling through the books. Not seeing one particular book made Remus worry slightly. It wasn’t a schoolbook, but he was concerned what would happen if Severus had gotten his hands on his drawings. He had it all day. It was impossible that the leather bound book wasn’t there. James noticed and asked, “Lost something, Moony?”

Remus was still thinking about when he last saw it. Suddenly, a short flashback tugged itself to the front of his mind. Colliding with someone, a girl. Dropping a lot of the things in his hands and getting lost in their eyes. Getting distracted by the appearance of his professor. Running a hand through his unruly hair, he replied, “Yeah, but I know who has it.”

Looking up, Sirius asked from his bed, “Who?”

Opening his mouth to respond, Remus recalled your face and tried to place it. He knew most of the people in his year without being truly observant. You looked like his age, so you couldn’t be new. He tried to recall the colors of your tie, but couldn’t remember. He looked up with confusion. “I don’t actually know. I’ve never seen her before.” Mysterious, just like Remus thought when he first saw you after the collide.

Thinking back of how your eyes truly captivated him, Remus wondered out loud, “How is that possible?”

Barbie (Chapter 5)

Chris Pine X Reader.

Summary:   The things you want are not always easy to get. Obstacles arise, Silly fights. Old flames and unfortunately even your own thoughts at times.  Even with all the happiness it still leaves the question: ‘How can two people who are perfect for each other be so fucked when it comes to being together?’

Warnings: Cursing. 

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. 

You could have hit him, you should have hit him; he deserved to be hit. It was like his brain has disconnected from his mouth. He had the audacity to say the stupidest thing you’d ever heard. The most hurtful thing you’d ever hear from any mans lips, let alone Chris’.

“That’s what it started out as?” You repeat with annoyance.

“But…” He starts to say.

“You didn’t allow him to finish, you interrupt him shouting at him with a furry of anger. "You fucking bastard!” He stares at you like a lost puppy, his artful blue eyes doing nothing to subside your anger. “You used me!” You throw the bag at him, hoping it would have hit him but it doesn’t. The bag lands just near his feet, the contents spilling on the floor. “What you wanted that whore back so fucking badly that you figured, ‘Hey, I’m the great Chris Pine, I can fuck anyone i want! I’ll just take the first woman who looks gullible enough?’ well, let me tell you something” You walk closer to him, each step you take raises the volume of your voice. “you’re not fucking great, you are lousy in bed and your acting is sub-fucking-par!”

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The longest 5 minutes, better make that 15, in TV History

Yesterday, after adding a comment to @just-sort-of-happened ‘s post about the connection between “watch” and “5 minutes”, and its relation to Sherlock’s deduction about Sebastian Wilkes’ watch in TBB, and John’s watch in Anderson’s Derren Brown fantasy in TRF, I began to wonder if we have yet to see how Sherlock got off that stupid plane. Now, after seeing @isitandwonder ‘s reply to the gifsets “You didn’t kill Mary. Mary died saving your life.”, it just dawned on me – what John said was a very round about way of the same thing Sherlock said to John in HLV:

In a way, Mary that John and Sherlock knew did die. Ironically, at the exact moment Mary shot Sherlock. I think… series 4 was indeed about tieing up the loose ends, and it all happened during that “5 minutes since Mycroft called" and 10 minutes after Sherlock landed – neither we saw complete versions of. And the loose ends are not just about the plot of Sherlock (TRF, HLV and everything since) but also about making a case for Johnlock.

Here’s what I think series 4 was doing.

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#1 - How You Meet


Jogging early in the morning always cleared your head. There was just something about the peace and quiet that helped get rid of all the negative thoughts and feelings from the previous week, leaving you feeling refreshed both physically and mentally.

The sun had only just started coming up but you could feel how warm the day was going to be already, parts of your hair sticking to the back of your neck from sweat. Looking down at the watch around your wrist, you checked to see how long you’d been running for, debating on whether you could cut this morning a little short and head back to your apartment; looking forward to the cool shower that was waiting for you there. As much as you enjoyed your morning jogs, you weren’t the biggest fan of doing so in the heat. It only left you unnecessarily exhausted.

Before you could make up your mind however you felt yourself collide with something, a startled gasp leaving your lips as you felt yourself fall, the rocks from the path cutting into the skin of your palms as you tried to catch yourself. Your eyes stung with tears and you bit the inside of your cheek to hold in the string of curse words that came mind. You looked up as someone held out their hand, crouching down in front of you.
“I’m so sorry,” They said, a sympathetic smile on their lips. “I was trying to change the song on my phone and I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine, sorry, I wasn’t looking either.”
You gripped their hand, letting them pull you back to your feet. Instantly you felt the sting on your knees and looked back down to see the torn fabric of your leggings, the skin of your knees scraped and bleeding. The man next to you hissed.
“Here, let me help you, that really looks painful.”

You bit your lip, trying not to whimper out as you nodded, letting him lead you over to the nearest park bench. He knelt in front of you again, grabbing his water bottle so he could clean out the dirt from your wounds.
“I really am sorry,” He said again and despite the throbbing ache in your legs and hands you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
“It really wasn’t your fault,” You replied. “I think we’re both just as guilty as each other.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” He smiled up at you, beginning to clean out your other knee. “I’m Ashton by the way.”


Luke had noticed you the minute you stepped into the shop, your cheeks flushed and pink from the frigid wind outside. He’d come in to get some new strings for his acoustic but he’d all but forgotten about that now, watching instead as you moved through the different instrument setups.

He couldn’t help but think you looked rather cute as a frown dipped the corners of your lips, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion. It was clear that you had no idea what it was you were looking for. Luke knew that it wasn’t his place to help you out, he didn’t work here after all, but it was the perfect opportunity to talk to you.

Swallowing down his nerves he crossed to where you were looking at a guitar, clearing his throat a little so he didn’t startle you.
“Did - did you need any help?” He stuttered out.
“That obvious huh?” You chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up under his gaze.
You’d honestly never stepped foot into an instrument shop in all your life and probably wouldn’t have at all if your little brother didn’t desperately want a guitar for his birthday.
“Maybe a little, do you know what your looking for?”
“Something that’s easy to learn on I guess?”

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💋 💋 💋 Is Not a Kiss the Very Autograph of LOVE? ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

💋 Is Not a Kiss the Very Autograph of Love?  💋

I love the gentle stroke of
Kisses so sublime that
They melt my insides and
Enclose me in blissful

I cannot breathe
I cannot think … I can only feel.
My heart pounds against Sam’s chest
While his heart beats with mine in

Once his lips touch mine
I go to water,
My very being sings out loud and
I tremble with

Sam’s eyes are mesmerizing
I drown in the depths of his gaze
Hopelessly in love, in lust … in hunger
For the man who seduces me with desire and

When our lips unite
And tongues mate
We both succumb to a yearning so
Overwhelming that it’s

He cannot give without taking, but
His kiss is the gift
I cannot take
Without giving back more in

Our lungs want to explode
As the intimacy of our kisses
Steals the very air we need
We gasp trying to inhale and avoid

Once our eyes connect
It’s as if Sam sees to the depths of my soul
And I to … his.
We are one together in complete

I feel the emotion,
The need, the longing,
While the brush against my mouth of
His persuasive tongue is

Sam’s lips evoke a response
I cannot deny … or ignore
I am his completely
One touch and I am lost to him

Wet, warm kisses anoint my own
Until I am overcome with emotion
I long for my love to deepen his caress
Until I am lost in total

Guttural, incoherent sighs echo in my ears
As he anoints my face with kisses
That trail down my chin, my neck and throat.
He makes me swoon in his arms in

Our bodies align together as one
Hearts and minds collide while
Warmth surrounds us …
We move closer and closer in utter

My teeth gently bite his lips
In sensual need
But when he reciprocates
His nips overwhelm me with sexual

The lightest touch of his fingertips
To my mouth
Sends shivers up and down my spine
While my hands hold him tighter in

I melt at the sound of Sam’s voice
And sexy groan against my ear
Answering in a language all our own
We’re completely lost to each other in

My hands clasp his face to mine
Our foreheads touch … noses bump
I brush my fingertips against his cheeks
He holds me tight and smiles in

Our love is real
I feel it in Sam’s kiss
The very autograph of his
And of our

Source manip: @sassylover-stuff ❤️❤️❤️

My poem & pic. 

Repost using Sassy’s beautiful manip. 💋💋💋

Brown Traps

This is part of the 200 followers celebration! Thank you so much @giggleberts for your request!

The prompts that were asked for Ben are :

3. “You look so beautiful tonight…”

22. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

30. “I won’t move until you said yes.”

69. “You make me want to stay in this bed forever.”

Hope you like it ;)

Gif not mine

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Tour of Prythian PART 7


It was nearly tea time. Elain, Nuala, and Cerridwen had placed the tea service in the sitting room. They’d debated about putting it in the garden but decided that they didn’t want to taint the garden with what was sure to become a bad memory. They needed a more subdued setting, thus the sitting room and it was set for 3. Azriel and Elain had gone over the benefits of greeting Lucien alone and together. In the end they had decided that Elain would speak with Lucien alone for a few minutes and then Azriel would join them. Lucien was known to be a man of reason and learning but that didn’t mean the rejection of the mating bond wouldn’t drive the male mad. Rhys himself had told Feyre about males who wanted to take ownership of the female or fight the male that the female had chosen to the death. Azriel & Elain had hoped that Lucien’s civility would win out over his harsh Autumn Court upbringing.

Elain had carefully dressed in a sky blue day dress. Her hair was curled and twisted into a knot on her head and daisy pins held her hair in place. Nuala had tinted her lips and cheek a pale pink that matched her nails. However the loveliest thing that Elain now wore was the white gold engagement ring on her fourth finger of her left hand.

Elain’s ring was fashioned in diamonds and sapphires that swirled in a flower pattern around her finger. It was the most beautiful and perfect ring that Elain could ever have dreamed of; Azriel had presented to her over breakfast that very morning. When they’d kissed, visions exploded into her head and she saw exactly how their wedding night would play out. It took her breath away, it was exhilarating, mind blowing, worlds colliding, and it was theirs.

—–Elain & Azriel—–

Elain now stood in the sitting room waiting for Lucien. Azriel was waiting in the rooftop with Rhys & Feyre, they were also there to monitor the situation. Elain was to have the full protection of the Night Court since she was refusing the bond and that forcing a bond or dueling over the female was outlawed in Rhysand’s territory. There was a knock at the door and Cerridwen ushered Lucien into the room.

Lucien was dressed in various shades of green jewel tones, his long hair was pulled back with a leather strap and his dark brown boots were polished. Elain noticed Lucien’s gold hilt sword hung at his side as Lucien strode into the room and greeted her with a bow. Elain bowed her head and held her hand up towards the tea service that was set for not two but three.

Lucien’s jaw was set tight.
L: Will someone be joining us? I thought we were to be alone.

Elain gave a very audible gulp.
E: Please sit Lucien, there are things that we need to discuss.

They sat and she raised her brown eyes to meet his one russet eye and one golden eye. Lucien poured Elain a cup of tea before he served himself.

L: I’m listening.

He gave Elain a careful smile and noticed her fidgeting. That’s when the sunlight bounced off the ring on her finger and right into his golden eye. Lucien stilled and rage went straight threw him. He knew by the look on her face that Elain could feel the trembling of his anger down the bond.

L: What is that? Where did you get that ring Elain? When did Azriel give that to you? I’m assuming it’s from him unless you are seeing someone else that I don’t know about.

Elain sat still but her back was straight and her her head was held high even as Lucien’s voice rose with every word that came out of his mouth. Lucien stood and was stalking towards her just as Azriel stepped out of a shadow.

A: To answer you Lucien, that is the engagement ring that I gave to Elain this morning after she said yes to my proposal.
E: I love Azriel Lucien, I am rejecting the bond between us.

Azriel stepped closer to Elain and placed a scarred hand on her shoulder for reassurance as Lucien’s hand moved to his side.

A: Before you reach for that sword, he nodded at Lucien’s trembling hand that now hovered over the hilt, I will remind you that it is illegal in the Night Court to duel over a rejected bond. It has been illegal for centuries along with the forcing of a mating bond.

Lucien’s entire body was red.
L: You never even gave me a chance to win your heart. You said you’d give me the chance to court you as well. Why Elain, why is it that my feelings do not matter at all? Does it really not matter what I feel?

Elain grasped Azriel’s hand tightly as she stood and faced Lucien.

E: No. No it doesn’t matter, Lucien. I know that’s not what you want to hear and I know that you do not understand why you or a bond would be rejected. We will always have a small connection I suppose but I love Azriel. I love him and I want to marry Azriel.

L: Love. A mating bond is the attachment of souls, it is a perfect pairing. Is that not greater than love? Surely love plays a part but when 2 souls are meant to be together they should not be parted.

E: I love him Lucien, I cannot be with someone that I do not love.
L: You didn’t even try.
E: I did not need too. I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I could never love you Lucien. You were involved with the murder of my human self and my sister’ human life. You did not help Feyre when Tamlin was treating her so badly. You hunted her to get her back. You used that word too, hunted, like my sister is some sort of animal.

Azriel’s arm went around Elain’s waist and he handed her a tissue. Elain hadn’t realized that she had tears flowing down her face.

L: I did not know what Hybern was planning. I never wanted him to hurt you, any of you. As for Feyre, that was a mistake. I made a mistake and I am sorry. Am I to pay for it with my entire eternity?

A: Go to Vassa, Lucien, join her court. It’s where you belong. You can do some real good there.
L: Do NOT tell me what to do.
E: But Vassa cares for you and you for her.
L: Vassa is not my mate.

Elain looked to Azriel, a silent plea and Azriel stepped closer to the male.

A: Elain has rejected the bond. You may stay in the Night Court Territory if you wish, as long as you do not try to force a bond on her or attempt to forcibly take Elain from this territory. As of now you are free to do what you will. Shadows curled around Azriel as he continued, I’d suggest you leave this court, but that is up to you. Azriel gave Lucien a feral smile.

Lucien turned to Elain, completely ignoring Azriel.
L: I’m not leaving without you.
A: I will drag you out of here and dump you on the Spring or Autumn Court boarder, your choice.

Elain said quietly
E: Please Lucien, please go.

Lucien turned and stormed out of the townhouse, slamming the door as he went. The bond hurt Elain like hell. They knew that she’d feel Lucien for her entire existence and they’d discussed it, Azriel reassured Elain that he could handle it if she could, but it wouldn’t be easy. Elain grimaced in pain.

E: I don’t want to feel him at all. I just want you, to feel you.

Azriel leaned down and kissed Elain. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his arms pulled her closer to him, until there wasn’t even room for air between them. Again Elain saw their wedding night and almost climaxed at their kiss. Azriel broke the kiss apart as Elain gasped and clung to him so tightly he thought she was in pain.

A: Elain?
He held her face lightly in his hands but when their gazes met she was smiling, she looked elated.
E: I saw our wedding night. It’s going to be amazing.

dreamhollow  asked:

Do Ma and Pa McGucket have deaged Stan take naps during the day? Since he's a child, does he get tired and grumpy during the day, that he might need to take naps? Can you write some moments where Ford and deaged Stan interact with each other pretty please!?

              Ford rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.  

               “So, Stanley, you’re uh…” he began.  Stan crossed his diminutive arms.  

               “Say it.  I fuckin’ dare ya.”  

               “Language!” someone shouted from the kitchen.  Stan and Ford were sitting in the living room, supposedly having an “important conversation”.  At least, according to the McGuckets.  Ford wasn’t sure whether they’d actually be able to have any sort of meaningful discussion. After all, Stan was…

               “You’re a child,” Ford blurted out.  Stan rolled his eyes.

               “Wow, ya really are a genius.”

               “Fiddleford said that it was the result of a supernatural creature.”

               “Some kinda lizard.”

               “Axolotl!” the same person from before shouted.  

               “Yeah.  That.”

               “When did you-”


               “Oh.”  A silence fell.  Ford looked down at his hands in his lap, unsure of what to say next.  Someone put a hand on his shoulder.

               “How’s it goin’?” Fiddleford asked.  Ford looked up at his roommate.

               “Not well.”  

               “Pfft.  No duh,” Stan scoffed.  He slid off the couch and walked over to a corner of the living room, which was clearly his “play area”.  He began to stack up some brightly colored blocks.

               “The conversation didn’t go well?” Fiddleford asked.

               “It didn’t happen at all.  Not that I’m surprised,” Ford said.  “He won’t talk to me.”

               “Stanley, ya need to cooperate,” Fiddleford scolded.  Stan began to place toy dinosaurs on top of the stacked blocks.

               “No, I don’t.”


               “It’s his fault!” Stan burst out suddenly.  Ford blanched, remembering the moments in his childhood when he talked back, and the punishment that came after.  But nothing happened.  Fiddleford frowned.

               “Whattaya mean?”

               “It’s his fault I’m stuck like this.  He’s the reason I got kicked out!”  Stan knocked over his blocks angrily.  “This- this isn’t right, it’s not supposed to be this way!”  He glared at Ford.  “And it’s yer fault!”

               “Oh, dear,” Fiddleford muttered.  He raised his voice slightly.  “Stan, are ya havin’ an issue?”  A moment passed before Stan nodded reluctantly.  “Do ya need a break?”  Stan nodded again.  “Okay. Angie?”  Fiddleford’s younger sister stuck her head into the living room.


               “Stan needs a break.”

               “Okay.  It’s ‘bout naptime anyways.”  Angie walked over to Stan and picked him up.  He clung to her desperately.  “Come on, lil bro.  Let’s get ya in some jammies an’ off to dreamland.”  She walked away, rubbing his back in a reassuring manner.

               “What just happened?” Ford asked Fiddleford.  Fiddleford sighed.

               “Stan short-circuits sometimes.  It don’t happen that much anymore, but bein’ ‘round ya may have been the trigger this time.  It ain’t usually so aggressive, though.  Maybe he was gettin’ cranky.  It is his naptime, after all.”


               “His old mind collides with his new one.  Least, that’s what it seems like.  Back when this whole thing started, he was basic’ly a teen in a child’s body.  But over time, he settled into bein’ a kid again.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed that.”

               “I’ve noticed,” Ford replied, remembering seeing Angie brushing Stan’s hair and Ma McGucket helping him put shoes on.

               “Well, his teen mind ain’t all the way gone.  Sometimes it tries to kick his kid mind outta the way and set up camp again.  But that most often makes him feel awful weird, and he shouldn’t be ‘round non-fam’ly when it happens.  Just for his own comfort.  We call it ‘havin’ an issue’, an’ it usually happens when somethin’ reminds him of bein’ a teen, or his original childhood.”  Fiddleford looked in the direction Angie and Stan had gone.  “I haven’t seen him get this upset fer a while, though.”

               “I don’t think it was him being overtired,” Ford said softly.  “It was me.  We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”  Fiddleford nodded slowly.

               “In that case, it might be wisest to limit how much time ya spend with him.  It’d be cruel to make him go through that whole thing repeatedly.”

               “That’s completely fine by me,” Ford said.  “I know you and your family meant well, but it’s uncomfortable for me to be around him, too.  He’s my estranged twin brother, and now he’s a small child.  Even if we weren’t so uncomfortable around each other, I don’t know if he has the capability to have the ‘important conversation’ your family claims we need to have.”  Fiddleford patted Ford on the shoulder.

               “Understandable.  But eventually, the two of ya will need to have that conversation.  Ya know that, right?”

               “I don’t know if we can, if Stan short-circuits around me,” Ford protested. Fiddleford shook his head.

               “Like I said, it’s more or less stopped happenin’.  An’ once he reaches his proper age again, it should stop completely.”

               “That’s thirteen years away.  Who knows if I’ll even still be in contact with him then?”

               “If’n we have to drag ya back here, we will,” Fiddleford said firmly.  “1984 might seem pretty far away, but years fly by. You’ll have yer brother back by then. Trust me.”


  • Yeah, Ma and Pa McGucket make him take naps.  He fights it at first, and doesn’t completely give in until they’ve accepted that he’s stuck as being de-aged.  He definitely gets cranky and grumpy sometimes, and also throws temper tantrums.  Those are usually signs that it’s time for his nap.
  • Once the McGuckets realized that Stan was periodically having moments where he was “short-circuiting”, they set up a system to accommodate for that.  They ask him if he’s having an issue, then if he needs a break.  If he says yes to both, one of the McGucket parents or younger three children (Fiddleford, Lute, and Angie) take him somewhere else to cool off and calm down.
  • Because Ford brings up a lot of bad memories from being a teen, being around him isn’t usually the best idea for Stan.  He can be in the same room, but talking to him for extended periods of time (particularly about their shared past) will trigger “an issue”.  Which Ford isn’t losing sleep over.  This whole thing isn’t something he’s comfortable with, either.
  • Stan stops short-circuiting once he hits seventeen or eighteen, and things go a lot more smoothly for him.  But of course, by then, he can’t really hash things out with Ford, what with Ford being stuck in alternate dimensions.

emperor-galvus  asked:

"I have a problem that very well could be taken care of by one of your talents. How do you feel about slaughtering monsters?"

The Emperor, himself…

To think, Frost’s reputation had somehow made it all the way to the very top, and here he was, kneeling before the Emperor of the Garlean Empire.  A thousand possibilities flowed through his mind, colliding violently, as he wondered why… and whether or not he should be humbled, elated, or terrified.  Although, one had to imagine it had to take fucking up on a colossal scale to receive consequences directly from on high, rather than through any one individual of rank who might just happen to have a syringe ready to euthanize him.  And yet, he couldn’t think of any personal failures so grave that he had been a part of while in the course of duty.

It wasn’t until the question was asked that his mind briefly froze in silence, his tongue having gone dumb.  He had a job for him?  Frost inwardly thanked himself for having relieved himself prior to entering the throne room.

“This lowly creature is honored to be in your audience, Your Radiance.”  Frost’s harsh whisper of a voice was pushed to a level more easily heard, what most would consider a conversational level, though it still retained its perpetual rasp.  “Moreso that you would ask such a personal favor of me.  It is my joy to serve, and monsters are as suitable as any prey.  What manner of monster would you have me slay?  A Primal, perhaps?”

Acrylic Sugar’s Super Huge Eobarry & Barrison Fanfic Rec List

This is in no way meant to be a full and comprehensive list. These are just some of the stories I have read and enjoyed. If you have any recommendations please send them my way. I can always use more Eobarry/Barrison in my life, lol.

Considering the nature of the characters *cough* Eobard *cough* some of these fics will contain non-con, violence, dark, and disturbing themes. Please read the warnings and/or tags on the fic if you are not interested in reading that.

*** = I extra recommend reading this.

Keep reading

When people ask you why you love someone it’s easy to tell if it is genuine or false. When you love someone you understand that they may not be the best looking or have the best attitude. You understand that they will do things you hate while still claiming to love you. The truth is “love” has nothing to do with perfection. And if at first you see your love as that, then is it even love? When you look at them can they do no wrong? When you look at them, are the only images in your mind of your two bodies colliding? If so what you’re feeling might be lust. Love is when you see them with all their flaws and that in turn makes you want them more. Love is when the things they say are what draws you closer. The way they treat others, the way they put you before everything else even when it’s supposed to be about them. Love is selfless not selfish. Love is when you can honestly say:

“Baby I just can’t stand to see you happy
More than that I hate to see you sad…”

Love is when you close your eyes and you see them happy, with or without you. A soul, a life like theirs doesn’t deserve to be alone. This here is love. One blessed by God because I believe this is what he intended.

Looks will fade, mannerisms will change. But to love someone for their soul, their mind…

Nothing Compares…

Sycamore Trees

I got a new one for your mentals kitty cats. Enjoy.



Sycamore Trees

I lay awake under sycamore trees,

when you called for me at an ungodly hour.

Minds collided, and you thought of me,

your milk skin and supple lips.

Hypnotised fingertips,

glow with pools of light and

I want to be touched.

They tremble and

kiss the innocence out.

I lay awake under sycamore trees

while you taste of me at a magnificent hour.

- Sucker for Smilex