So Netflix decided to be mean to all of us watching A Series of Unfortunate Events, less than 5 minutes before the end of the 7th episode. And they’ve already shown us the wonderful little triplets from the books, Isadora, Duncan, and Quigley Quagmire, at the beginning of that same episode. I wish there were more episodes, but Season 2 has already been confirmed, with 10 episodes covering The Austere Academy to The Carnivorous Carnival. I can’t wait!!!
Because that would be a lot of characters to write, I’m making it a fic, rather then full headcanons for each person. This isn’t going to have everyone, and I’ll have to do separate parts (that is if you guys want me too)!
Today was long. Too long. All you wanted to do was sleep for three days straight in retaliation. But, alas! It wasn’t that easy. Life was rough, and all you really wanted was a break.
A break from life.
That was a silly thought. Even if you had taken a vacation, the everlasting feeling of the inevitability of work and responsibility would be looming overhead throughout.
You sigh, shuffling around your living area, on route to the kitchen. The day was almost over, and sleep was very needed.
After a quick meal you finally made it in bed and closed your eyes in relief, only to have them open again in response to a starting bang in the house.
Maybe something feel over? That was very possible.
No, there was shuffling; you could hear it moving. Something was in your house.
You fly up, terrified, grabbing the metal flashlight near your bed. It was the closest thing you really had to a weapon in the vicinity; and if worst came to worst, it was a blunt object.
You move quickly and quietly to the source of the sound, trying to keep your breath steady. The noise was coming from around the corner of the hall, and you pray that it ends up being a friendly dog that had managed to wonder in.
You hold your breath and round the corner.
It’s…..a girl? She looks almost like she’s writhing in pain on the floor. Your grip on your flashlight tightens. It could be a trick, and you weren’t taking any chances. However, something about her was strikingly familiar. It bothered you; did you know this girl?
Then she disappears and reappears rapidly, shrouded in a strong blue light. You fall over backwards in surprise, landing on your tailbone.
You DID know this girl.
You were dreaming, this is a dream! She was fake! This is fake!
You crawl over to her. She stopped blinking and was back to writhing, holding her chest.
You reach at her. She blinks again.
You grab her shoulder. She looks at you and gasps.
The world turns blue.
This day just didn’t want to end, did it?
The first thing you noticed was the sky. It was daytime again. The air was thick with the smell of dust and gunpowder, but seemed to be settling.
There was stirring beside you. You look up at a now standing form beside you.
“That….. This is a first.” Getting a good look at her face, you realize that, yes, this girl was undisputedly Tracer. A girl from a fictitious world.
“I…….” You look around. A dilapidated town, the aftermath of a intense firefight.
Something in her ear caught her attention. An ear piece, you deduce.
“I’m fine. But….. I kinda brought someone back.” Tracer looks up at the sky, then at her surroundings. “I mean that this person came back with me somehow.” She pauses for a short while and looks back down at you. “Rodger!”
She kneels before you, offering a hand. “Are you okay?”
You nod and accept her hand, letting her help you up.
“I need you to come with me. Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you!” She puts her hand on her heart. “I swear!”
“Okay.” You mutter, hoping she couldn’t notice your slight shaking. This is starting to feel less and less like a dream, and you didn’t know if you should be ecstatic or anxious.
She grinned, leading the both of you out of the town and to a large airship in the distance. Woah! It was so much bigger in person!
The door hissed and opened upon your arrival reveling a group of people; most of which stood eagerly by the descending platform.
“Oh, thank goodness that you’re okay!” A shorter woman exclaimed. Wait, that was Mei! You glance quickly at the faces of the others to see if you knew them as well.
There’s Mei, Reinhardt, Mercy, Ana, and Soldier 76. This is crazy! These are real people, right here in front of you! Your mind could barely comprehend it.
Tracer ushers you inside and the door closes. “This is them.”
“And you’re sure that they ‘traveled’ with you?” Asks Solider, who seems to be sizing you up. You straighten your back, in attempt to look more confident.
“Absolutely! I saw them before we blinked back.”
“Tell me kid, what year is it?” All eyes fall on you and you shift from foot to foot sputtering out the year.
“They seem genuine,” Ana speaks, “you should take a seat. You look tired.” She’s gentle and pats your back, leading you to the seating against the walls.
76 sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “So we’re just taking them with us then?”
Mercy nods, “It is best that we look into this.” She presents her hand to you. “Hello! I’m doctor Angela Ziegler.” You shake hands as she continues to introduce the others. “I am afraid that you must come with us. For your safety and others.” Her words become stern and serious. You gulp noticeably.
“Oh, don’t be nervous,” Ana, who now sat behind you, started, “you’re completely safe here.”
“Okay. Thank you.” You look at your feet. Didn’t really have time to put on shoes before teleporting to a different world.
“Athena!” Soldier commanded,“Prepare for takeoff!” He look at the other agents. “You all should do the same.”
They all take their seats. Mei to your left, Ana to your right and the other four across from you. The bars above you lowered and secured, much like ones on a roller coaster and Athena warmed of take off protocol.
“Tell me, young one, what kind of music do you listen to?” Boomed Reinhardt with a large grin.
What a random question, though it seemed like him to ask.
You spoke the first band that came to mind, regardless of if you actually liked them or not. “Uh, Twenty-one Pilots?”
“Ah, yes! I remember hearing of them when I was younger!” You smile at his boisterous attitude as liftoff commenced.
The ship was relatively quiet, save for the dull roar of the engine, until Mei began to speak.
“I like your pajamas.” She commented sweetly.
Oh, that’s right. You praise your past self for not going to bed in just your underwear that night.
She hummed in response, and the conversation ended there, leaving you with only thoughts of awe and disbelief.
;u; This was like all exposition, but I find it hard leaving this without at least some kind of explanation. If I do another, I swear there’ll be more characters!
Prompt: Riley Matthews is a struggling writer who works as a bartender to pay off her student loans. Lucas Friar is a rich kid from Texas who’s lost his way. One night fate brings them together causing their two different worlds to collide. A/N: Okay so in this one I included a Lucas’ POV hopefully that doesn't mess the flow up. I just wanted to share what he was thinking from his perspective. We’re nearing the end. xo Word Count: 2,605 Part Part Part  Part  Part Part  Part 
Part 8- “Don’t Bother.”
The second I breathe in that beach air I feel at ease. I’ve
always loved the water, whether it be in rain form or in crashing waves of the
ocean. It calms me. So for a brief moment when that cold winter beach air blows
against my skin everything’s okay. But then I hear his voice calling after me
and I’m reminded of where I am and why I was running in the first place.
“Riley, if you would just give me a second to explain you
would understand.” He says.
My back is still to him as I trail off up the massive
driveway. Surely there’s a bus or
something around here somewhere. The Hampton’s was now my own personal hell
I take out my phone to order an Uber but he snatches it out
of my hand, making me finally face him.
“Give me my phone back.” I snarl, looking at him in a way I
feel I’ve never looked at anyone.
I felt so stupid. And more than that, I felt pathetic. I let
myself believe this could work, that he and I could work but there I was on a
dark street stranded in Southampton in a dress that could pay off the majority
of my student debt and I never felt more miserable in my entire life.
“Riley, please.” He grabs my hand, searching my face for a
thaw. But there was none, my expression, my eyes, were all cold as ice.
“Fine!” I yell, pulling myself away from his grasp. “You
want to talk, you want to explain than GO AHEAD.”
He stares at me briefly before dropping his gaze to the
ground. He knew as well as I did that there was no reasonable explanation for
what I saw and what I heard. Maybe if I had only seen the kiss then he could
twist up a really good lie to make me believe him but he couldn’t. I watched
him look into her eyes as she kissed him. He didn’t fight it because he wanted
“Being back here…it isn’t easy.” He whispers, looking up at
A sharp laugh escapes my throat and I throw my head back in
disbelief. “You have got to be fucking with me right?” He furrows his brows
together, trying to follow along. “Your life is soo hard. Oh no my parents
have so much money, oh no all these beautiful women want me. Boo fucking
“That’s not fair.”
“Not fair? Not fair?!
You want to talk about what’s not fair? What’s not fair is you bringing me to
this god forsaken house, throwing me in completely blindsided.” I feel my blood
boil as I step closer to him, this time my voice low and steady. “How could you
not tell me you were engaged? And that she’d be here.”
“I didn’t think she would be.”
“So because you didn’t think she’d be here you thought it
was fine not to mention her at all?”
He doesn’t answer. I take a deep breath, feeling the cold
air fill my lungs.
Also called: The Marcel Smut (maybe part 1/? let me know) Prompt: Harry, pitifully called Marcel as a sour joke, is a nice, young, straight-A student, with a bully and what he thinks is an unattainable crush on his bully’s ex, whom he thinks too much about, in the worst possible moments.
(FROM THE IDEA THAT THESE GIFS LOOK LIKE A DISHEVELED MARCEL HAVING A WANK.)
In which Harry Marcel Styles is having a hard day. Quite literally.
For Harry, getting up was the easy part of the day. He’d open his green eyes and analyse his blurry surroundings. It wasn’t after he slid on his glasses that he could tell apart the blobs of color. His small cactus on the edge of his desk, the guitar resting on the corner, the stack of papers next to his bed, and his meds on the bedside table as well. Flipping over on the bed he’d groan and stretch, and then proceed to scratch any itch. The typical, don’t act like you don’t do it too. The first thought that came to his mind was the one that determined pretty much the rest of his day.
Was it raining outside? Meant he’d have to carry his shitty umbrella, the one he still owns because he’s had no time to replace with all the club meetings and exams from the previous semester. Maybe this year he can get a new one.
Or maybe it was sunny. He would mentally prepare himself for the heat he’d feel due to the mandatory vest he had to wear for his part-time job.
Listen, I fucking love Ezekiel. I liked him from the very first moment, he has charm, he’s thoughtful, he’s even funny in his way. I think I’m going to love him episode after episode. His last speech was so emotional. When Carol said “Why you care?” and he was like “Because it makes me feel good” I was almost in tears. Great scene, honestly. I’m totally ok to see them become friends. The reason why I don’t “ship” him with Carol is because my heart and soul belong to Caryl and I can’t just let it go.
I also liked the other main characters of the Kingdom: Benjamin, Jerry and even Richard. And Shiva of course. I wanna adopt that tiger lol
I have a legitimate question. Why do people hate Wick? I’m not talking about the actor, but the character. I never loved or hated him, but since my time in the fandom on tumblr (and not just as a viewer) it seems that a lot of people hate Wick, and I’m just curious as to why.
Spark and Blanche had been close since they were young.
Blanche is the quiet type of person and has never been really good socializing. Spark is very talkative and says just about whatever comes to his mind.
Spark enjoys talking to Blanche because Blanche has always been the only person who is patient enough to listen to him ramble his thoughts away. Blanche enjoys listening to Spark because he doesn’t mind them not talking and their presence seems enough for Spark.
Ofcourse, Spark also likes to listen when Blanche talks to him because he thinks it’s special and rare when Blanche shares their thoughts.
One day, eight year old Blanche is surprised when Spark suddenly stops talking. Spark tells them, with a forced laugh, that somebody got irritated with him because he talks too much. He doesn’t want Blanche to be irritated with him.
Blanche just blinks and asks him what’s wrong with talking too much? Blanche thinks it’s amazing how Spark can just vocalize his thoughts and emotions freely. Blanche tells him that expressing their thoughts was something very difficult for them and they are envious of Spark because of this.
Spark is surprised with this and he cannot believe it because isn’t Blanche the amazing one? Blanche is always there patiently listening to him. He wonders why Blanche has never told him to “shut up” or “quiet down” even once when those phrases were what others tend to tell him.
Blanche retorts that what’s curious was that Spark actually talks with them. Other people don’t like to talk to Blanche because they are boring and are too quiet and it’s a wonder why Spark still keeps on talking with them. Maybe one day Spark is going to get tired talking with them and Spark cuts what Blanche is saying by giving them a bear hug.
“You’re my best friend, Blanche!”
And so Blanche learns to enjoy talking a bit more and Spark learns to stop and listen when others are talking.
summary: you live with seven boys who turn out to be your brothers, but what could go wrong? THIS WILL BE SO FUCKING LONG BE PREPARED
y/b/f/n = your best friend’s name
these seven, dorky, loving, caring, hilarious, cute, not to mention handsome boys were your brothers. they were there for you, anything you’d ask, they would do for you. no matter if they upset you, they always find so many ways to comfort you and make you happy.
you love them so much, you know you can’t replace anyone else with them. they were a family you never had.
“maknaes, wake up!” seokjin walks into your rooms, banging his big metal spoon against another one.
“gghh..” you groan, “oppa, please stop..”
you lay your head against jimin’s shoulders while seokjin wouldn’t stop banging his spoons.
“wake up, you have school!” he shouts, “don’t make me get hoseok to scream.”
you rub your eyes and sit up, seeing seokjin clearly. “i’m good oppa.. i’m good..”
seokjin laughs as jungkook, taehyung and jimin follow your actions after.
“you all woke up, finally.” seokjin sighs, “go get ready, your breakfast is ready.”
you all nod and groan.
“man, school?” taehyung yawns, “i need to survive hell for so many years.”
you chuckle, “same here.. i call dibs on the bathroom first!”
“wait, can i pee?” jungkook asks, “i like.. really need to pee.”
“as long as you flush the toilet!” you say as jungkook blushed, jimin and taehyung laughing until they’re on the ground. you smile at them, they looked too cute.
“fine, fine. hey, i only forgot to flush three times!” jungkook admits, “i promise i won’t forget.”
“you better.” you say, taking your blankets off your legs and walking to the bathroom.
“morning!” you say to namjoon, hoseok, yoongi and seokjin who were all sitting in the lounge.
“morning y/n.” they say.
“guess like our maknaes are back to school again.” namjoon said, “i’m always here to help you with english, y/n.”
you nodded, “ah, thank you oppa. are you all free today?”
“i’m hanging out with friends today.” hoseok said, “sorry.”
“me and namjoon are just gonna go around the city for a while for some inspiration.” yoongi said, “i’ve been really into songwriting and so has namjoon.”
you nod and turn to jimin, taehyung and jungkook, “you three?”
“we’re going to a party we’re invited.” taehyung said.
“y-you’ll be home, right?” you turn to seokjin. he was usually the one home. if you two were the only ones left at home, you both would make the kitchen into a mess because you failed trying out a new recipe.
“i-i.. i have cooking classes..” seokjin said. “i’m sorry y/n.. turns out my classes are on monday’s and friday’s.”
you frown. lately, none of you were able to hang out or stay at home and play games. they always seemed busy, seemed like they never had time for you. or that’s what you thought.
“oh.. okay.” you manage to say. “you guys will be home by eight, right?”
they promised they would be home by eight if they were ever out. it was dark at that time. they knew you were scared about yourself being alone.
“we will.” they all said.
you nodded, “okay.. i’ll let you all off.”
they all smile as you and the maknae’s head to the kitchen, staring at the food seokjin made.
“you can have mine, jimin.” you say.
“no, this is enough. i don’t need to gain anymore weight.”
“shut the fuck up and eat.” you say, “don’t get yourself upset, chim! i love you and your body.”
“my body?” jimin wiggles his eyebrows.
“i didn’t mean it that way, idiot.”
“y/n, no cursing!” seokjin shouts.
“sorry, mother!” you playfully say and giggle.
the maknae’s say goodbye to you before heading to the other side.
“hey y/n.” y/b/f/n approaches you, “how was the weekend?”
“good, good..” you say, “you?”
“it was good.” she says.
“i’m a little bummed about this morning though.” you admit, playing with your fingers.
“why? did something happen?” y/b/f/n asks, her face turning into a concerned expression.
“the brothers won’t be here all day.” you sigh, “i want to say they’ll come around eight, but i doubt that. if seokjin was with me, he’d be ringing them like mad.. i don’t even feel like i matter to them anymore..”
“hey, it’s okay..” she ruffles your hair, “they love you. i’ve never seen a relationship like yours and them.”
“why am i even telling you this?”
“because we’re best friends, duh,” y/b/f/n says as you chuckle, “do you want me to come around yours?”
“i should be good on my own.” you smile, “thanks for the offer.”
“you can call me whenever.” y/b/f/n smiles back, “i’ll pick up.”
the bell rings, meaning students need to head to class.
“what’s your class?” you ask as you link arms with y/b/f/n.
“math. that’s good so i can get it over with.” y/b/f/n sighs. “you?”
“i’ve got english..” you say.
“at least that’s better!” she huffs as you laugh. “i’ll see you later y/n!”
you take your arms off her and wave as you head into class. once the students settle down, the teacher walks in.
“good morning class,” mr shin says, “welcome to english. before we get started, we need you in pairs. if you find a partner and sit down on one of your desks, we can get the lesson started. no fuss please.”
you sit at your desk, not really wanting to get up.
“hey, y/n.” a voice says. you turn around.
“oh, yugyeom!” you smile as he sits down.
“want to be partners?” he asks, “i don’t really feel like partnering up with anyone else to be honest.”
you giggle, “that’s alright.”
“you partnered with yugyeom? shut up..” y/b/f/n gasps, “he’s so fucking hot..”
“you say that about everyone,” you laugh.
she blushes, “anyways, are you going around each other’s house or something?”
“no,” you say, opening your container of fruits that seokjin cut up for you. “mr shin just told us to partner up so we could do some poem to perform.”
she nods, “but if you go around his house, you better let me know!”
“i will, i will.” you laugh.
“wow, no one is home..” you sigh as jimin locks the door behind you.
“it feels weird,” taehyung says, “like, namjoon-hyung would be greeting us.”
you nod, agreeing. you already miss yoongi’s hugs he would give you when you came home.
“we gotta get ready for the party.” jungkook said, “will.. will you be okay here?”
you nod, “sure. not my first time.”
jungkook sent you a sincere smile, “okay then.”
you head to the maknae room and grab your clothes from the closet, then head into the bathroom.
“f-fu- sorry!” you squeal. you may or may not have accidentally walked on taehyung. you see his muscular back facing you, his muscles flexing.
wait, what are you thinking? he’s your brother for god’s sake! you thought, then groaning. you almost died. and you weren’t joking. seeing his bare body made you turn red hot.
“hey, calm down.” taehyung chuckled, putting on his shirt. “we’re siblings right? you’ll be seeing a lot of bare bodies around.”
“heh. yeah..” you mumble.
“sorry, anyways, i’ll let you get changed.” taehyung winked. you huff before letting taehyung go out of the bathroom, you going in. you locked the door behind you as you got dressed in your pyjamas - you won’t do anything anyways.
“we’re leaving now!” jimin called as you stuffed more chips inside your mouth.
“m-mhm!” you say.
“stay safe y/n.” jungkook said as the three stood in the doorway.
“mhm.” you repeat.
“what’s wrong?” jimin asked, looking at you.
“nothing, nothing. go leave now before you’re late.”
“if you say so.” taehyung sighed, “call us if you need anything.”
you nod, “see you.”
“love you, y/n!”
“love you too.” you mumble back. when you hear the door lock, you sigh. you continue to watch your movie while eating chips.
your eyes began to feel like they would shut any second, and before they did, you looked at the time.
of course they wouldn’t be home. you thought.
and you knew it. your eyes shut rapidly.
the seven boys came in quietly, all untying their shoes and taking their jackets and masks off.
“she’s sleeping..” yoongi said. namjoon chuckled at the sight. your blanket over you with the bag of chips in your arms.
“man, we must have kept her up.” jimin said, “i’ve received a lot of texts from her.”
“we all have.” seokjin said, “we should probably talk to her tomorrow.”
“yeah.” they all nodded.
“i’ll take her to bed,” jungkook suggested.
“are you sure?” hoseok asked. jungkook nodded.
“i’ve got the muscles.” jimin took the bag of chips and placed it in the kitchen while jungkook picked you up.
“m..gh..” you groan and place your head on jungkook’s chest. he smiled as he went up the stairs, the boys following behind.
he placed you on yours and jimin’s bed and puts the blanket over you.
“goodnight, y/n.” he said, pecking your forehead. “i love you. i’m sorry.”
I read somewhere once that if you couldn’t sleep, you should write down whatever’s on your mind and keep it in a journal. Something about it being therapeutic, I guess. I’ve never really been good at writing but, hey, I’ll try anything once. Even if it’s just for fuck’s sake.
I’ve been up for four hours now, just staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you as I shift my weight around on that tiny mattress that by some miracle fits both of us. Reminds me of the times you would get so cold that you’d stuff yourself into my side and stick your cold hands under my shirt for warmth in those winter’s after your ma died. A little heat leech you were but I didn’t care, as long as it got you to stop shivering for the night. Nowadays it’s usually me leaning towards you and trying to get warm, since you turned into a fucking goddamn furnace and I still can’t seem to get that feeling of ice out of my veins. I wonder if you ever feel it too, that feeling of being trapped inside a freezer with no way out. Maybe it’s just me. It’s probably better that way.
I’m afraid to fall asleep.
It took me two whole minutes to build up the courage to write that down. My hand is still shaking.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
Everyone thinks that the nightmares are about what happened to me when I was under Hydra’s control, and they’re not wrong. It’s just not the whole truth. I fall asleep knowing that I’m going to dream about all of the awful things I did, all of the things that I can never take back, and it’s enough to make me sick to my stomach. But if they were only that, I’d force myself to fight through it because it isn’t anything that I don’t already think about when I’m awake.
The part that scares me
Steve, I just
I can’t fucking write this I can’t I can’t
I can’t lose you. I can’t bear the thought of going to sleep when I know that in each and every fucking nightmare you’ll be ripped away from me. God, it’s like some kind of unknown torture they implanted in my brain so that even if I could somehow forget everything they taught me, I would still be haunted by dreams of losing you. I know that we spit out all the crap about your soul matching mine and how we could never really lose each other if we’re the same inside, but when it comes down to it, that’s all bullshit.
Steve, if there was no you, there would be no me. If you left the face of this earth, I would crumble into dust and endlessly scatter across the face of this planet in the hope that somehow, in someway, I would find you again. Without you, I wouldn’t just die, I would fall headfirst into oblivion. I wouldn’t just fade away, I would explode. Because our love isn’t a bandage type of love, the one that you can slap on and peel of whenever things are finished. No, our love is industrial steel, slicing through ice and bullies and everything that has tried to pull us apart. It’s more durable that the vibranium of your shield or even my arm, and things that powerful aren’t always in our control. You see, if you were to leave me, that love is strong enough to turn against me and make me pay in ways I can’t even imagine. No torture chamber or terrifying serum would be able to compare to the ways it would rip me apart, picking away at me piece by piece until all that would be left is my heart, still triumphantly beating until the very end of the line for you.
I’m looking over at you right now, as creepy as that sounds, and I can’t help but be scared at the thought of how much you mean to me. How I’m scared that even with all of your strength and fire and that goddamn stubbornness to do what you know is right, something will come along to try and snuff the Brooklyn right out of you. That you’ll finally realize how pure and too good for this world you are, and then look at me with the disgust I rightfully deserve after everything I’ve done. After everything I’ve put you through. And, Stevie, if I could take everything back for just one more night huddled together under that ratted old quilt back in 1939, I would. I would erase every single fucking thing just so that those Brooklyn nights could live just a little longer. So that those two innocent, scrappy young boys had a goddamn chance in this world that so hell bent on turning every diamond into dust.
Because you, Steve, are the brightest diamond I’ve ever seen.
And you deserve so much better than a pile of dust like me.