something about the plague

The Only Exception (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes

A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.

And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Originally posted by 8bit-arc-reactor

Keep reading

Imagine...Dean Figuring Out You’re Sick

Originally posted by dancewithmejensen

Request: Could you maybe write a Dean imagine where your getting sick but you don’t tell Dean so you can help him on a hunt and you go with him but he ends up figuring it out?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

About that one answer where you mentioned Augus encourages Gwyn's coldness towards him, why does he? Does it have anything to do with keeping up appearances or how the fae still view Augus and/or Gwyn or how Augus/both personally feel about it or something else?

It’s all to do with keeping up appearances mostly. Augus has no interest in making Gwyn a ‘softer’ King or a softer person around anyone else. In fact, he encourages Gwyn’s crueller streak as a commander/ruler, knowing that Gwyn is the Unseelie King and needs to present himself as such.

Augus is also very protective of Gwyn’s softer aspects / more vulnerable aspects. He figures that Gwyn’s gone his whole life without really revealing that to others, and he doesn’t think that now - when he’s ascended to the Unseelie throne - is the time to start. I suppose that it’s also that he knows it’s important to Gwyn, and he cares about what Gwyn cares about (to a point).

Gwyn also has no interest in it either, really? He 100% has put a lot of his time and energy into how he comes across in general, in public, and has no interest in other fae finding him ‘accessible’ or ‘easy to talk to.’ While he sometimes laments that he doesn’t have closer connections to fae, or envies Ash’s ability to make bonds, for the most part he very much enjoys people seeing him as remote and inaccessible.

So yeah, if Augus started punishing Gwyn for say, being cold towards Augus in public, that would go against what they’ve both worked to build together, and also what Augus has found fascinating and inspiring in Gwyn since the beginning, and since he started digging under that facade himself. He’s been grateful for Gwyn’s ability to ‘assume the role of King’ even as it changes his attitude/character around others. As far as Augus is concerned, it’s a very functional coping mechanism and one he thinks could actually save the Unseelie Court.

It’s entirely different when Gwyn is cold and awful to him in private though. Augus doesn’t have much patience with that. Some, but not much, lol.

Braids & War Paint (Part 4)

Note’s On:

Part 1: / Part 2:  / Part 3:  / Part 5: 

For the last three days Terrasen had experienced the heaviest rain showers in decades. The granite skies had held promise of precipitation, Terresen had had everything, from rain to sleet to hail. They’ve had it all. 

Her royal highness, Aelin Galathynius had been confined within the castle, attending meetings, reading, raiding Lysandra’s chocolate stash. She hadn’t been bored but Aelin did find herself missing a certain fae warrior. Aelin saw Rowan at meal times, ran into him accidentally around the castle here and there. Aelin had missed his brooding nature, even though there had only been a short while of their friendship, there was something about Rowan that Aelin couldn’t turn away from. 

“He’s like the plague.” Aelin muttered to herself realising who her thoughts turned to again. The princess sat in her ornate armchair, legs curled underneath her. The sexy-fun-time book she had been reading was starting to bore her. As her mind had been wandering, her eyes seemed to stray too, towards the balcony across the way. 

Rowan sat at his desk, penning a report to ‘his queen’, no doubt. His silver hair glowed against the rain on his panelled door. Fae senses really helped Aelin, but it was times like this when she wanted to shove her head in the sand. 

Rowan had caught her staring, the letter he was penning wasn’t a letter at all, but a sign that he held up to the door: 

You look braindead. 

Aelin laughed out into her quiet room, Fleetfoot picked her head up off the bed, startled by Aelin’s loud outburst. She searched around for her quill and a stack of parchment and wrote her reply: 

The rain makes my hair go frizzy. 

Aelin could see Rowan’s slight squint and the roll of his green eyes when he finally read her sign. The two passed notes across the way like children. Laughing at stupid jokes that the other had written. Rowan had the neatest handwriting Aelin had ever seen, she hated to admit it but it was more beautiful than her’s. She had one piece of parchment left, Aelin had to make it count

What book were you reading?

Aelin tried to hide her smile at Rowan’s question, it was dumb and childish, but the fact that he saw her reading must’ve meant he looked at her before she looked over at him. The butterflies of anticipation rose in her stomach.

I’ll come over and tell you about it.

Rowan’s eyebrow raise was the only answer she needed before rushing out of her quarters. 

“I can’t believe you like that garbage.” Rowan chastised, scoffing at Aelin who had waltzed into his room and lounged over the armchair in the corner of the room, her long legs hanging over there rolled arm of the leather chair. 

“It’s not garbage! It’s romantic.” 

“That’s not romance.” Rowan said, hunched over his writing desk, his letter to Lorcan was…supposed to be finished hours ago. It was just very hard to concentrate when the princess of Terrasen was bickering about bad romance novels that weren’t really romantic at all. 

“Oh?” Aelin piped. “And what do you know of romance.” Rowan’s desk chair groaned when he spun around to face her, the typical eyebrow raised at her poised question. She was looking into him, her gaze lingered deep and Rowan felt like pouring out his secrets then and there. 

He wondered how Captain Rolfe of the Mycenians said no to her. 

“I’ve experienced love, Aelin Galathynius.” Rowan scratched the back of his neck as the tips of his delicately pointed ears burned at the thought of Lyria, at the thought of talking about his love life with Aelin, about the situations he’s been stepping into willingly. 

“I have too, once.” She whispered, at the sound of her small voice Rowan became wary about the topic and did what he did best. Ignore it until silence enveloped them. Rowan could hear her breathing, he could hear her stand, he could hear her featherlight footfalls as she walked towards him and sat on his writing desk, flipping through his sealed letters, scanning over the address’. Then she stopped at one. 

“What is she like?” At first Rowan thought she meant Lyria, until he looked up and saw who the letter was addressed to. 

“She’s your great aunt, shouldn’t you know?” Rowan laughed breathily as he signed the short report to Lorcan. Rowan didn’t have to look but he knew Aelin’s only response was a shrug. 

“Never met her, I’ve only heard her reputation.” Aelin said nonchalantly, but he could tell that she was eager to know more about her estranged kin across the sea. Galan mustn’t be telling her much. 

“She cares for her people.” Rowan stated firmly, only slightly stumbling over his words, he was trying to be truthful about his queen, but usually negative adjectives are used when describing Queen Maeve of the Fae. 

“That’s not uncommon, every ruler should care for their people. It’s their duty.” Aelin stated. Rowan had never let a thought like that cross his mind, he’s experienced all kinds of rulers…none of them spoke like it was a gift to their people that they cared for them and not a citizen right to be cared for. 

“Queen Maeve is harsh but she does what she can.” Rowan hated the taste of lie in his mouth. It was ashen. 

“My mother doesn’t want me to ever meet her,” Aelin said, playing with the one small braid in her hair. “If my mother won’t let me, that must mean she isn’t worth meeting.” Rowan had no answer for the statement, he had no input. She had been his queen before Rowan’s soul was placed in his body. 

Rowan Whitethorn had never believed in fate. But he couldn’t help to feel like Rowan was placed in Terrasen at this very moment in time for a reason, whether it be to learn more about himself, learn more about the stigma behind his queen or be intrigued by the heir of fire herself. Rowan didn’t know, what he did know is that he is glad for it. 

“I’ve seen a lot of Terrasen people with braids in their hair, is it a custom?” Rowan asked, placing his quill back in the ink pot, giving the princess his undivided attention. As the question fleeted his mouth, Aelin’s slender fingers gripped the braid she had been absentmindedly fiddling with. She gained a vacant look in her legendary eyes. 

“If you promise someone something, or if someone promises you something, you braid a commodity that belongs to them into your hair and you don’t remove it until the promise is fulfilled.”  Aelin said in a light voice as her immaculate nails traced the leather band in her braid. 

“We have nothing like that in Doneralle.” Rowan said as he wondered who promised Aelin something so important she braided a vow into her hair for her whole court to see, he wondered if Aelin was the one to promise something. 

“What of your tattoo’s?” Arlin quipped, letting her eyes roam his inked flesh. “They are in the old tongue, aren’t they?” 

Rowan placed two fingers to his temple and started tracing his memories before he answered: 

“They tell the story of my first battle, I had thousands of soldiers under my command,”  Rowan’s eyes somehow found her heavy ones. “I had thousands, I walked out with a few hundred because I didn’t know what I was doing. I lead young fae into a massacre.” Hundreds of years later, Rowan Whitethorn still felt the crushing feelings of guilt and responsibility. 

“You inked your irresponsibility onto your skin for anyone to read?” Aelin quietly asked, extending her hand to his face where she traced the letters of the old language.

“It’s my burden and shame to carry.” Aelin’s hand quickly retracted and flew back to her braid. Rowan noted that her fingers held an unnatural warmth, even in the freezing walls of the stone castle. “Who does your promise belong to?” Rowan asked, his hand vaguely gesturing the braid. 

A small smile graced Aelin’s lips before a sad shadow shrouded the young woman’s features. 

“It belongs to me, I promised myself something on behalf of someone who doesn’t walk this earth anymore.” Aelin sadly answered, the way her thick dark eyebrows drew together made Rowan wonder what kind of event happened to cause such heartache in someone so young. Then he realised he saw this face on Aelin only a few moments prior. 

“Did you love him? The boy you promised?” Aelin’s eyes snapped up to Rowan’s at his question. She nervously swallowed a lump in her throat. Rowan could see all the clogs and gears working in her head, weighing up the options of what to tell him, how much to tell him, to tell him anything at all. 

“His name was Sam Cortland.” Aelin’s eyes sparkled with the memories that were probably running across her mind. Rowan knew what that was like. “I loved him very much.” In an attempt to distract herself from the confession Aelin played with fake lint on her sapphire tunic. Rowan stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “He was murdered when I was sixteen.” Rowan’s heart clenched, he’d never had a lover that had passed but his separation with Lyria had been just as painful. 

“What was your promise?” Rowan didn’t realise that, that comment could be seen as rude, but when Aelin was taken aback, Rowan started scrambling for an explanation before she shushed him. 

“It’s a fair question,” Aelin said. “I promised him that I would be happy, even though he is gone. I would be happy because I knew that is what he would’ve wanted.” Aelin let a light smile grace her lips. Rowan knew that he should feel sorry for her, show her sympathy. However, Rowan knew that she was strong, that she wouldn’t want his sympathy even if he did offer it to her. She had vowed to be happy and live without her first love. 

“And you?” She asked him, her voice even and tenacious. Rowan quirked a friendly eyebrow at her, which he found himself doing often in Aelin’s presence. “You said you experienced romance, who was your first love?” 

Rowan could still feel the heat of the sun and the smell of the tulips she was selling that day. He remembered her smile and her dark hair against alabaster skin. The kindness that radiated off her in waves. Rowan could still remember he never deserved Lyria. 

“Her name was Lyria.” Aelin’s fingertips brushed against Rowan’s on top of his pile of letters, a silent encouragement to continue. “She was the most beautifully kind women I had ever met in my life. We were together for a very long time, I went away on raids and crusades very frequently.” Rowan took a sharp intake as he continued the story; “Lyria wanted a family, wanted a life I could never give her. She knew that too, but my selfishness blocked her into a life she didn’t want. One day I came home and she was gone, she wrote me a letter saying how much she loved me but I could never give her what she was searching for, I had no idea. Oblivious to her wallowing in her own despair.” 

It had been a long time Rowan had told the full story to anyone before. 

“You deserve happiness, Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin said, jumping to her feet off the desk. “If Lyria has found happiness without you, then you can find happiness too. Gods, I hope happiness walks into your life.” With that, Aelin of the Wildfire exited his quarters. 

What she didn’t know was that happiness had walked into his life. It was the first time he had felt true happiness in a long time, happiness had strutted into his life wearing a green gown and a smirk. 

AN: I just wanted to thank everyone who has shown support and interest in this fic, but I just wanted to thank a few people in particular, who gave me confidence and words of wisdom. Without them this fic would have never been continued: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord and last but not least @azrielsiphons

Thank you all so much, my heart swells whenever I see comments from anyone and everyone, I’m so glad to be in a fandom that is so supportive, even if your opinions and ideas are so different. Thank you to everyone who gives me and this fic time of day. 

If you have any questions, ideas, asks, prompts or want a general convo please take a visit to my inbox or my question section :) 

Much love and many thanks, 


A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Sixteen

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

Link on Ao3

One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six   Seven   Eight   Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve   Thirteen  Fourteen   Fifteen 


-Chapter 16-

“I’m going to find you!” Felix sang. He knew exactly where his sister was from her giggling. He knew she was behind a tree in front of him, but was just letting her think she was going to win their game of hide-and-seek. It had only been hours since he returned home from his mission to the mortal lands, and all the other members of the Elite had been dismissed. He, however, was awaiting the arrival of a certain bastard and heir and couldn’t make a public appearance until they were with him.

He’d lied to High Lady Feyre and told her that he and Eleana were going to spend some quality time with Quathryn for a few hours, but that would become longer if Eleana didn’t arrive home soon. He was a little worried about how long Laya was taking to come home from the wedding, but there were multiple explanations for it. Firstly, her and Kaden were having such a splendid time that they let time slip away from them. Unlikely, knowing how angsty the two were. The second option was that they had a fight and Eleana is blowing off steam somewhere, but if that had happened Kaden would have come to him by now. Then there was the possibility that things went so horribly with his family that they were all dead and Felix would never see his friends again.

“Come find me! Lis!” Quathryn sang back to him. Her little voice warmed his heart and made him think more realistically. Together, Kaden and Eleana were an unstoppable force – he had to believe that nothing would go wrong. He’d go insane if we worried about them as much as they warranted him to.

Keep reading

Sup everyone! 

So, I’ve been pretty busy lately with juggling school, NaNoWriMo, and fanfiction, but I’ve still managed to find time to do other things. In between staring at a blank page and wondering how to write the next scene in my novel, I’ve been reading Manga. One that has recently caught my attention is Yu Yu Hakusho.

Now. I started this manga because of the number of Inuyasha crossovers it has. Recently, Inuyasha has managed to re-catch my attention and I’ve been browsing through its stories, crossovers and not alike, so I decided to check it out. I thought it was pretty good. Not the best, I’ve most certainly seen better, but it was an entertaining read and I rather liked some of the characters in the story. There was one character in particular that caught my attention.

Youko Kurama.

I love his story. Or, more specifically, I love the potential in his story. He is a silver kitsune who’s lived a thousand years and didn’t care for humans until his human mother manages to change his mind without even really trying. He was an extremely successful thief, an A rank Youkai, and has the ability to control plants. Not to mention the thing about inhabiting Minamino Shuuichi’s body. I just loved everything about him.

There were several ideas for fanfics that came to mind while reading this story, and the potential hidden in Kurama’s character is a huge factor in this. Keep in mind that all of the ideas that immediately came to mind are crossovers and I’ve only ever read the manga for this series, though I intend to watch the anime as soon as I have time. 

The inhabiting Shuuichi’s body is the largest plot point that stuck out in my head. The potential to use this particular event is MASSIVE. It gets me giddy just thinking about it. Case in point:

What if instead of inhabiting Shuuichi’s body, he somehow managed to inhabit Uzumaki Naruto’s instead?

One of the things that stuck out to me about Kurama’s character is the similarities to characters in the Naruto verse. He’s able to control plants, similar to Senju Hashirama’s Mokuton, he’s a kitsune named Kurama, just like the Kyuubi from Naruto. He was trapped inside an infant human, just like the Kyuubi. All of these things stuck out to me and I kept thinking that someone has to have taken advantage of these similarities.

Imagine my disappointment when I went to the crossover section and found none.

Now picture this: 

Youko (meaning Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho) dies. Whatever happens in the Yu Yu Hakusho canon that makes him take over Shuuichi’s infant form happens, only instead of becoming Shuuichi, his soul manages to get caught in a rift between dimensions and ends up in the Naruto verse instead. He still needs to take a new body to survive, so he goes to the nearest one. This happens to be the still unborn form of Naruto, who has not yet been given a soul. he settles there and Canon!Naruto’s soul never gets to settle in Naruto’s body becuase Youko got there first. The events of Naruto canon play out and (spoilers!) Obito attacks Konoha and unleashes the Kyuubi and Minato uses fuuinjutsu to seal Kurama (meaning Naruto!Kurama) inside of Naruto’s infant form. 

At this point, Youko has no care for humans. He never meets Shuuichi’s mother and therefore never gets his opinion of humans changed becuase of her. Picture Youko as Naruto watching the villagers mistreat him and having these actions confirm his beliefs about humans. Picture him signing up for the academy because it interests him how so many humans are able to use reiki, or something resembling it at least. Imagine him learning about Senju Hashirama and laughing, because huh, a human can use abilities similar to his own. 

Picture him having a garden in his apartment and caring for it religiously. Picture him attending the academy and staying away from people because all the civilian kids have been warned away from him and the clan kids don’t have any particular interest in him. Picture him growing up, graduating the academy, and being assigned a team.

Imagine him growing to care for that team.

Perhaps it is Sasuke who reminds him of Hiei or who’s quiet company becomes something Youko can enjoy. Perhaps it is Kakashi, who’s loyalty is something Youko can admire. Imagine Sakura breaking out of her fangirl phase and becoming someone strong, someone powerful. Imagine the three of them bringing Youko’s opinion of humanity up, changing it just as Shuuichi’s mother would in a different world. Imagine him becoming willing to do anything for them.

Then Imagine the chuunin exams coming around after Team 7 has managed to gain his respect and friendship. Imagine Orochimaru attacking them and Youko refusing to let this snake hurt his friends. Imagine him using his Youki and manipulating plants to take down the snake. Imagine Sasuke and Sakura being in shock when the forest comes alive with one whisper of Youko’s commands. Imagine Youko telling them about his past, about who he is and what he can do, and them accepting him regardless.

I would love to read a story like that.

Or, picture Youko ending up in the Warring Clan era in the Naruto verse. Picture him meeting a young Senju Hashirama and being impressed. Picture him teaching Hashirama how to listen to the plant song and how to get them to obey his every whim. Picture Hashirama looking up to Youko as a teacher as well as a friend. Picture Hashirama having the Mokuton because of Youko’s lessons.

Or, picture Naruto becoming Youko. Imagine him waking up in the Yu Yu Hakusho verse with no memories of his past, only the name ‘Kurama’ echoing in his head and the sound of plant song ringing in his ears. Imagine him trying to figure out who he is and why he’s here, why he has silver hair when he’s certain it should be yellow, or why his eyes are gold when he’s sure they should be blue. Picture him becoming a bandit becuase that’s something he’s good at, something familiar, and him building up the reputation of ‘Youko Kurama’. Picture the events of Yu Yu Hakusho occurring, of him becoming friends with Yuusuke and Hiei and all the others. Imagine him getting his memories of Naruto back.

Or, picture Naruto and Sasuke getting lost in a interdimensional rift and ending up in the Yu Yu Hakusho verse. Imagine them coming across the spirit detectives in their quest to return home, of them participating in the Dark Tournament or breaking into Reikai, or causing havoc in Tokyo. Imagine everyone getting a kick out of the strange similarities between Youko and Naruto.

Or, picture Kurama the Kyuubi merging with Naruto to save Naruto’s life. Imagine him roaming the lands, becoming distant from everyone as they slowly age and he doesn’t. Imagine Naruto missing Kurama so much and never being able to tell anyone about it. Imagine youkai populating the world and everything shifting from one era to the next - of the Naruto verse becoming the Yu Yu Hakusho verse. Imagine him falling in love with a silver kitsune despite all his intentions of not getting attached. Imagine them having a child and naming him Kurama after the friend who sacrificed himself to save Naruto all those years ago. Imagine Naruto protecting his family against enemies only to fall prey to their attacks. Imagine him getting sealed away and hating every moment of his being trapped in the void. Imagine Kurama feeling so betrayed by his father’s disappearance, of running away and becoming a bandit because of Naruto’s disappearance. Picture Naruto finally breaking free after centuries and immediately seeking Kurama out. Picture their reunion - be it pleasant or not. Picture Naruto getting involved with the spirit detectives because damn him if he’s going to let his son go through everything that happens alone.

Picture all of the possibilities, or all the different interactions and jokes and fights and everything. There are so many possibilities that it leaves me breathless.

anonymous asked:

okay but if the apprentice had the plague theory is true then that means they also looked That fucking ugly and asra was still out here loving them the whole time????????????? like wow???????/ find you a partner like that!!111!!1!!11!!111

asra: i don’t date ugly people. why? because i don’t think they exist *turns hat backwards*

mc looking fucking gross and shriveled up, immensely gaunt, has intense bags under their eyes, coughing up blood or something: thanks babe


Pairing: George X Reader
Prompt: George discovers a secret that you hoped no one would ever find out about. He doesn’t take it the way you expected he would.
Warnings: The bad pun for the title
A/N: I think I’m too clever for my own good sometimes. Enjoy the pun and the story too I suppose.

Originally posted by hiphopnaveia

Your mother always told you that the Ravenclaw’s curiosity knew no bounds. Every single person in your family has managed to prove this in some form or another. Your father was a brilliant inventor, and his latest achievements skyrocketed your family wealth. Your grandmother had a perfect photographic memory that has lasted her for decades. Even your great-great-grandaunt was brilliant, having the ability to memorize the entire book of spells and even inventing a few of her own.

“You’re brilliant, Y/N,” your mother told you. You were eleven and your mother was fixing your hair right before you got on the Hogwarts Express. “Your whole family is brilliant, and so are you, and if you ever find the right partner in your life they will certainly be brilliant as well.”

As an eleven-year-old, you believed your mother’s words with a passion. You began your journey at Hogwarts with a clear goal in mind and a determination to complete it. As the years flew by, you found it harder and harder to stand out. Everything you tried was a repeat of what someone else in your family had accomplished. Studying hard? Most likely checked off as soon as your lineage began. Dueling? Covered by your great uncle. Potions? Herbology? Charms? Arithmancy? All done within generations ago. You weren’t even one of the ‘creative type’ Ravenclaws. You couldn’t draw, and you’ve been told more than once that your voice was best kept confined to shower stalls.

Keep reading

To Protect and Serve (Part 2)

Prompt: Imagine Bucky Barnes being hired as your personal body guard, but things don’t go as you or your family anticipates.

Word Count: 1735

Warnings: Language (possibly, probably not, but possibly), some violence, traumatic memories/events

Notes: Collab work with my BFFFFLLL Bee @amarvelouswritings This was an idea that hit us both and we just took off with it. We hope you enjoy it as much as we loved drafting this.

Forever Tags: @amarvelouswritings​ @cocosierra94@essie1876@magpiegirl80@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527​ @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification@thejulesworld@rda1989​ @marvelloushamilton @munlis@thefridgeismybestie@bubblyanarocks3@random-fluffy-pink-unicorn​ @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay@lostinspace33​  @alwayshave-faith@elleatrixlestrange@buenostardissherlock@lenawiinchester@the-red-world-of-jess-chibi

To Protect and Serve Tag: @scamanddaaamn


The first week was absolutely easy. I checked every room before you entered, I watched over you as you read, ate, played, and sometimes even slept. I stood outside your quarters to make sure you weren’t disturbed. You appeared even more childlike than I presumed, but it wasn’t immaturity by any level. You were a free spirit, but bold. When someone told you you couldn’t do something, you proved them wrong and impressed them. It wasn’t a spiteful action, it was a message that you shouldn’t be underestimated.

Keep reading


Originally posted by darlinglostcrank

Anonymous Requested: Long Bellamy x reader request where reader and him are best friends and they both secretly want more. Peace has been established and reader notices bell is tense and not getting sleep so she offers a massage and says something like “you know you can come to me if somethings bothering you. Whenever, however, whatever it is you can come to me.” And so when he has nightmares he goes to her tent and eventually they both admit how they feel. Sorry its specific just need some fluffy fluff.

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Warnings: don’t know how long it is but…

You were not surprised when you saw Bellamy walk through your door. It was something that’d been established long ago, and you knew about the nightmares that plagued his mind. When you’d first found out, you’d been infuriated that he hadn’t told you sooner.

You’d said; “you know you can come to me if somethings bothering you. Whenever, however, whatever it is you can come to me.“ And ever since then it was just an unspoken thing that Bellamy’d come to you if he did need anything. Most nights he spend with you, and it was just another unspoken thing that the friendship between the two of you was more than just ‘friendship’. You and Bellamy yourselves didn’t dwell into it too much but you did like him…

You’d gotten up from your bed, immediately walking up to him in a concerned rush. “Everything okay?” You asked, reaching him and setting your hands on his arms for support. Bellamy only leaned down, hugging you. The movement shocked you but you were quick to respond, falling into his embrace with a careful tug.

Bellamy said nothing; but you could hear his rapid breathing and it wasn’t hard to tell that he’d been trying to sleep when a nightmare hit him. After everything he’d been through you didn’t blame him. Peace had only recently been restored in Arcadia and the effects of everything everyone had been through was still strong.

When Bellamy finally leaned back you prepared yourself to speak; but Bellamy’s lips connecting with yours stopped you. You froze upon the tough, definitely not expecting this. But eventually you leaned into his warmth, basking in his bold movement. You’d been holding back on your feelings for Bellamy for far too long and you hadn’t noticed until this moment how much it’d been dwelling on you.

Bellamy’s hands wound around your waist, bringing you into himself. You found your chest pressed against his own and your hands reaching up to run themselves through his curls. You pulled, basking in the moment and leant into him. 

You both didn’t pull away until the need for air was strong. You panted, your hands still holding his head and his hands still gripping your waist. “Are you okay?” You breathed, your eyes curling in concern.

Bellamy shook his head, stepping back which forced you to follow him. “I don’t want to worry about that now.” He explained, pushing you until you fell back on your bed. Staring at the man above you, you smiled. “I want to focus on us.”

“Okay.” You grinned; “let’s focus on us.”

almiren  asked:

Hi there! Just wanna say I absolutely love your blog! I wanted to request headcanons of Akutagawa, Dazai, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Mori (if that number is too big then just the first 3 are fine! ^-^) with an S/o that is an artist, but when they get really into their paintings/drawings, they don't always pay attention to the boys?

(I did general artist HCs too, I hope that’s okay?)

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

  • For the sake of Akutagawa’s interior decoration, it’s probably a good thing you’re an artist. The only thing clothing his otherwise naked walls is your artwork. No matter what you paint, it’s going on display.
  • Painting is one of the few things Akutagawa compliments often and openly. Art is one of the things he appreciates most; the fact that such emotion and intensity can be displayed without words amazes him. Normally, Akutagawa wouldn’t be anywhere near as vocally encouraging, but he wants you to know how much genuine pleasure your work brings to him, so he praises everything from your brushstrokes to your color choices.
  • Secretly, Akutagawa slips your sketchbook in with his belongings if he’s going on a long trip for the Port Mafia. Looking at your drawings comforts him, and the lines winding across the page quickly become his solace when the two of you are apart. Even when he’s countless miles away from you, a mere glance at your sketchbook’s pages makes the distance seem a little less cold.
  • Akutagawa doesn’t want to pull you away from your hobbies, especially ones that he enjoys as well, so he’s a bit more reluctant to recapture your attention while you’re focused on art. Despite this, he still takes your sudden cold-shoulders a bit personally, even if they’re not intentional.
  • After awhile, Akutagawa will flat-out tell you he’s sick of you tuning him out. He points out that he really doesn’t have that much time to spend with you, what with all the Port Mafia business he’s got to handle.  If you still don’t pack up your supplies, his mood sours instantly. Akutagawa doesn’t dare start putting away your tools himself- he’s worried he’ll screw something up and you’ll be forced to scrap countless hours of work. Instead, he sits perhaps three feet away from you, glowering. He stays there, glaring, still as a statue until you’re simply too uncomfortable to continue. 

Dazai Osamu

  • Dazai praises your art exuberantly and often. There’s no one in the ADA who hasn’t been victim to him waxing poetic on your mastery of shading, the delicacy of your lines, the poetic beauty of your finished pieces. Often, he’ll google complicated artistic terms, just so he can compliment every possible thing there is to point out. Plus, he sounds smarter when he uses words like ‘chiaroscuro’ (even if it’s not always employed strictly in the right context).
  • Often, Dazai seeks out art exhibitions in Yokohama for the two of you to peruse. No matter the quality of the pieces shown, Dazai always pretends to be disappointed, bemoaning the fact that none of your art is there. Whenever you pick out a work that you like, Dazai sidles as close to it as the gallery attendants will let him. After scrutinizing it for awhile (he usually whips out a magnifying glass), he draws back, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. Dazai points out all the aspects that you could’ve done better, mourning the fact that this got into a gallery and your work remains displayed only in his home.
  • Depending on the mood he’s in, Dazai either is alright with letting you alone as you work on your art, or he simply can’t handle being ignored. If he’s in one of the latter moods, kiss any potential progress good-bye. When you focus on your art instead of him, he’s immediately scheming ways of drawing your attention back. All of his brain power is channeled into getting you to acknowledge him.
  • Dazai tries every trick in the book. He starts off with sweet little kisses, smattered on your cheeks and neck, but it only goes downhill from there. If you don’t give in instantly, he morphs into a whiny toddler. Dazai creates racket in the background, pokes at your cheeks, complains about how cruel you’re being, pouting face about two inches away from yours. Things only escalate the longer your will holds out. Once, he set off the fire alarm just so that you’d acknowledge him (he apologized, but he wasn’t really sorry. Setting it off was so satisfying, not to mention effective, he’s got a burning desire to do it again.).

Nakajima Atsushi

  • Atsushi’s simply amazed by your skills. Whenever you show him a finished piece, he beams, eyes shining with awe as he admires your work. Atsushi’s never been too talented with a pencil and paper, and your creative prowess is only one of the countless reasons why he adores you.
  • Unless you specifically allow him sneak peeks, Atsushi avoids your unfinished pieces like the plague. To him, something just doesn’t feel right about glancing at such a personal object in progress. If he does happen to notice an uncompleted project, he’s instantly apologizing to you, begging forgiveness for invading your privacy.
  • If you let him, Atsushi loves to sit back and observe as you work on projects. He admires the way your hands swerve across the paper, sweeping lines with unbelievable grace and precision. He also thinks your facial expressions as you concentrate are adorable. Every time your nose scrunches, or your tongue pokes out of your mouth in concentration, Atsushi can’t help but grin, delighted at your sheer cuteness.
  • Although Atsushi feels a bit slighted when you spend hours fine tuning artwork instead of hanging out with him, he would never dream of interrupting you. Your level of focus amazes him. As long as you’ve got a paintbrush or pencil in your grasp, Atsushi doesn’t disturb you, occupying himself with something quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t even want to cause accidental breaks in your concentration, shying away from all loud noise and distracting activities while you’re at work.
  • When you’re in your zone, Atsushi keeps close tabs on you. Meals are left by your workspace to ensure that you don’t forget proper nutrition, there’s always a full water glass somewhere nearby, and his inner mother comes out when it’s long past time to pack it up; Atsushi strongly ‘encourages’ you get enough sleep (ignoring him results in an indignant cold-shoulder; he’s trying to look out for your health and you brush him off?! Unacceptible), no matter how much progress you’re making

Nakahara Chuuya

  • Soon after he discovers you’re an artist, Chuuya’s constantly bothering you to paint something for him. He insists on paying commission. If you won’t let your recompense be money, he’ll settle for paying you in kisses. 
  • Instead of keeping a photograph of you with him, Chuuya holds onto a pocket-sized self portrait. Staring at your likeness, one that you created, brings a smile to his face no matter where he is. The picture especially helps when he’s called away on long Port Mafia tasks; glancing at the image every so often eases some of the loneliness of being apart.
  • Chuuya will love anything you create, but he’ll especially enjoy a scene of Yokohama at night, with the lights glimmering over the water, or a portrait of you two together. After letting you pick out a suitable frame, he hangs every art piece you give him somewhere noticeable; usually, it ends up decorating the walls of the front hall or dining room. Chuuya’s special favorites go in his bedroom. When you’re not with him, it helps ease his loneliness if the last thing he glances before he falls asleep is one of your artworks.
  • You have to be careful complaining about your art supplies when around Chuuya. He’s prepared to splurge any amount just so that you’re outfitted with top-of-the-line tools. Whenever he notices that your pencils are growing dangerously short, or that your paintbrushes are fraying beyond redemption, he immediately surprises you with replacements. They’re always an unbelievably expensive brand, probably foreign, and usually, your initials are etched somewhere.
  • Chuuya will never directly let you know that he’s annoyed when you’re ignoring him. He’ll try every trick in the book to coax you away from your art, though. Chuuya taunts you with the promise of your favorite meals, tries to rub your shoulders until you’re putty in his fingers, even hints at all the other, more… exciting things you could be doing instead. If you’re completely determined to work on your art, he’ll eventually let you be, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Mori Ougai

  • Mori’s absolutely delighted when he finds out your artistic ability. He encourages all of your hobbies, but this one, he’s especially enthusiastic about supporting. Mori’s no art critic, but he does enjoy browsing pieces. If you’re the one to create it, his interest only skyrockets.
  • To Mori’s absolute glee, Elise takes a liking to your art, too. Whenever you’re slaving away on a project, she’s probably got one she’s working on, too; she likes to pick out the same subject as you and compare when you both finish. Mori can never decide which is better when pressed for his opinion (usually by Elise). They’re both masterpieces, he insists, and there’s no competition between masters. Both artworks are hung up together, a plaque underneath them identifying the pieces as a collaboration between the world’s two greatest art masters.
  • Without telling you, Mori calls in a designer and sets up a massive studio for you to work in. The room is fully equipped with every art supply your heart could ever desire. It’s absolutely gorgeous; there’s windows overlooking gardens filled specially with all of your favorite flowers, and skylights littering the ceiling filter in moonlight when you want to work at night. Mori brushes it off as nothing, insisting that artists of your caliber need work spaces that measure up to their skills.
  • Generally, Mori leaves you be when you’re devoting all your attention to your art, although he’ll whine a bit. After he complains for a few minutes that he deserves your attention just as much as any canvas, he abandons the pursuit of your acknowledgement. Mori’s busy enough that he can occupy himself until you’re ready for him again. He’ll be mopey until you’re back in his arms, though.
  • There are, of course, exceptions; when Mori’s looking for sex, no amount of charcoal smeared on your hands is going to stop him. He’ll fuck you right against an easel if he has to. In addition, if Elise wants your attention, he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill her demands. Mori will ensure you give the girl what she wants.

Stories are funny things. They unravel in a way most intricate, but if you snip off their beginnings or undo a certain knot, then the events become something altogether unrecognizable.

So we start with a story of a girl and a boy and an umbrella.

And suppose, the girl is for once prepared.

Suppose the girl has her own dilapidated umbrella, blue and with bent spokes twirling agitatedly in the rain. The droplets bounce off, a little bit sad as they’re thoroughly repelled.

Suppose the boy watches her walk away down the street, just a little bit too late to
apologize and a lot too late to gather up his courage to chase after her and explain.

Suppose a weary old man watches them from under his umbrella with a look of disappointment on his face.

His kwami gives him a dubious look.

“Excellent choice, Master.” Wayyz laughs. “They aren’t even talking to each other. She looked angry. Looks like I might win the bet this time.”

Master Fu simply glares.

“Patience. Those two are made for each other. Wait and see.”

Wayzz hums in disagreement, but thinks that circumstances are as cloudy as the sky. Supposing, of course, that the girl keeps her pride and the boy maintains his shyness, this might not work out at all.

If that’s the case, then Marinette doesn’t fall for Adrien and this is where we start.

It’s been about two weeks since Adrien Agreste made his debut. The newness of his arrival has faded, leaving behind nothing more than a few blushing schoolmates and a constantly clinging Chloe.

Marinette doesn’t really know what to think. She lets her initial dislike of him settle deep into her impressions, shifting her emotions of distaste to place him in the same decidedly unpleasant category as Chloe.

She would have let things go. She would have kept her head down and moved on with the new school year the same as every year…but he sits in front of her and smiles at everyone, including her.

He acts as if she never caught him putting gum on her seat. He acts as if he’s done nothing wrong.

He smiles and waves and simpers and she gets really tired because exuding perpetual pep and cheer seems so exhausting. She hates it. She doesn’t hate him, but she hates that he annoys her. It’s not worth the effort.

So she does what she does best and keeps her nose to her work, feigning disinterest when the rest of the class surges to hear tales of his escapades and merely returning his smiles with a vague little wave.

He’s relentless. He’s always around, bright eyes shifting to look at her with what she takes for consternation, and perhaps a little mocking. Let him laugh, she thinks. She can’t hear him past the state of the art, sound muffling headphones Nino let her borrow with a wry grin.

She can’t hear him…but she also can’t see the look of despair on his face when he finally gets the courage to apologize and she’s thoroughly invested in not noticing his existence.

Despite the slight annoyance of days spent in forced silence, she finds reprieve in the cheerful chatter of Chat Noir.

They’re on patrol, a perhaps unnecessary protocol born of caution and kept because of the freedom it offered them. A chance to leap above a myriad of golden light, the roofs of Paris welcoming a stray cat and a glittering bug with alacrity.

They speak, carefully dancing around anything that could give away their identities.

Except maybe not that carefully.

“Something bugging you, My Lady?”

Ladybug resists the urge to roll her eyes. She’s too care worn. Still new to the whole superhero thing. And her relationship with Chat Noir is still in its formative stages. Something in between absolute trust born quickly in the heat of battle and hesitant amusement.

Her nerves are frayed. Her mouth numb from biting back so many remarks during the day.

She takes a breath and gives him a guarded look.

“Don’t you have enough problems without carrying the burden of mine, Kitty?”

His sharp smile merely softens, humming thoughtfully as he contemplates her question.

“You’re never a burden, My Lady. And sometimes it’s nice to make someone feel lighter.” He turns away from her scrutinizing eyes, eyes darting to the dark horizon of the city. Then a bit more quietly. “It can help you forget your own problems for a bit.”

Her smile becomes sweeter as his drops. She scoots a little closer to him on the roof, curling her legs closer to her chest as she fights against her instinctive need to shy away.

She’s Ladybug right now. And Ladybug has a friend she can talk to.

“It’s school stuff, that’s all. There’s someone who owes me an apology.”

Chat Noir stiffens, a slightly distant look glazing over his green eyes as he says-


“And they walk around smiling all the time like nothing is wrong and it’s just really irritating because I have to see them everyday.”

He gives a stiff laugh, something about owing an apology resonating with the guilt that’s been plaguing him all month. Speaking of owing apologies…he still has to give one to Marinette.

But right now, he gets to focus on making his partner feel better. And that’s a distraction he’s willing to take.

“Well, that sounds like a cat-nundrum.”

Ladybug let’s the silence stretch in between them, blinking a few times before Chat concedes.

“That one was really bad, wasn’t it?” He chuckles.

Ladybug laughs, the tension seeping quickly from her shoulders.

“It was a cat-astrophe, Chat.”

Adrien Agreste is a nerd. Truly and thoroughly a nerd.

It might be attributed to his initial schooling years being spent alone with multiple tutors and teachers drilling everything a son of Gabriel Agreste ought to know into his impressionable little head.

Or it might simply be that Adrien loves to learn. He holds some bit of pride in his academic performance, and so it’s never been a long shot for him to do reasonably well in his new environment.

So it’s not without a bit of surprise that he finds the girl he can’t apologize to is also a bit of a scholastic achiever.

Both their names are frequently called on by the teachers. A litany of questions that he answers with an endearingly soft confidence and that she answers with a quiet surety he wasn’t expecting.

their grades lag just behind Max in mathematics. Adrien just barely beats Marinette in physics. She takes the lead in language studies and really, anything that involves an iota of creativity.

It’s intriguing and a little sad that he’s so happy about this development.

He notices how she perks up when the teacher is handing back their exams. He can feel her staring over his shoulder, surreptitiously looking at his grade and reacting with quiet cheer when hers is higher and with dismay when he has beat her.

Adrien still owes her an apology, so he doesn’t begrudge her this. In fact, he even takes to tilting his exam a certain way so she can more easily see the scores on the front.

And he quietly enjoys her vivid reactions. He can almost picture the gleeful vindication that would light up her eyes, those same eyes usually narrowed at him or pointedly looking away from him. He’s glad that he can at least interact with her on some level, even if she’s isn’t aware that he’s aware.

God. What a pathetic attempt at friendship, he chides himself. But there isn’t much he can do when Marinette has headphones on every free minute he’s around her.

Still, this little competition is something that brightens his days. He’s grateful for that, at least.

Marinette isn’t quite sure how this comes about.

She knows she dislikes him. She dislikes Chloe too. But Chloe has never made her work half as hard to beat her.

Adrien Agreste, with his sunshine smiles and his enthusiasm towards life, brings about the best if her in the worst way.

“Are you coming over tonight, Marinette?” Alya asks a little wearily, a resigned smile on her face because she already knows the answer.

Marinette glances up from her worksheet a bit apologetically and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry Alya. I’ve still got to study for the physics test tomorrow.”

“I know. I know.” Alya waves her off, before giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’m just worried you’ll get an ulcer with all the pressure you’re putting on yourself this semester.”

Marinette gives a sheepish laugh.

“I uh…it’s uh…”

Alya simply peers at her best friend over the rim of her glasses.

“You know, if you’re really worried about nailing the physics exam,it might be helpful to have a study buddy.”

“Eh…but I thought you hated physics?”

“Not me.”

“Not you. Then who?”

Alya merely laughs, nodding her head discretely towards the empty row in front of them. It’s a few minutes before lunch ends, and Adrien has thankfully vacated the room at Chloe’s usual behest.

Marinette’s ire grows. She angrily mumbles something about pride and mean people who won’t apologize and goes back to her work.

Alya sighs in defeat.

This was going to be a long year.


“It’s been almost two months, Nino. I don’t think…gah…apologizing this late is going to be really bad. She won’t even look at me when I try and talk to her.”

Nino can only shake his head.

“I already told you. Just apologize. Better late than never. And Marinette…uh she’s really nice.”

It doesn’t escape Adrien’s notice that Nino flushes a bit everytime he talks about Marinette.

Adrien is agitated for once. Between battling Akuma, fashion shoots and keeping up his end of the unsaid competition with Marinette, he’s been spread thin.

Even his patrol nights with Ladybug are starting to seem like more of chore than a freedom.

And really, at the base of it all is his absolute hate of being disliked by someone else.

It needles at him. Weeks of strained silences and sharp looks from her vicinity have made his guilt rise terribly.

‘Forget it. She’s not worth losing any sleep over.’ Chloe had said the first week.

But he’s learned fast that taking Chloe’s advice would not make him a lot of friends and he’d rather be as honest as possible

So it’s why he’s so grateful he met Nino…and so disheartened that he’d managed to anger one of the nicest people in the school.

He doesn’t have to actually talk to her to figure that out. Aside from all the things Nino has filled him in on, he watches her.

Not in the same way she does. She watches him to find out his scores, to see if she can get some kind of advantage over a person she rightfully dislikes.

He never begrudges her that.

He watches her in what he hopes is more of a “I’m really awkward and I’m trying to apologize way” than a “I’m a creep who thinks your bluebell eyes are really nice” way.

She never watches him. It’s a bit disheartening.

And it all breaks apart one morning when they’re the first two in class. The correlation early birds and high grades is significant enough that they’ve both started coming earlier to school.

He gives a friendly hello. She merely nods in his direction, a strained smile on her face as she turns back to reading her textbook, headphone placed squarely over her ears.

He tries to do the same, but her presence is disquieting. A silent dislike for him that is palpable as she sits behind him.

Adrien, being Adrien, tries to break the silence.

“So uh…how’s studying going?” He calls over his shoulder, but there’s no answer. He mentally chastises himself for this. She has headphones on, of course she couldn’t hear him.

He’s about to turn fully to grab her attention when Alya comes barreling in through the class door, squealing incoherently about something.

“Marinette, oh my god

She makes a beeline for Marinette, who in a rush to understand what her friend was shouting, stands up abruptly.

Her shock is made complete when the plug of her headphones falls out from under her desk, limp and unconnected to anything at all.

He knows it wasn’t previously connected to her phone because he can see it peeking from the edge of her bag.

She glances down at the dangling end, mortified and Alya’s mouth drops in gaping surprise.

Marinette’s face flushes a deep red, before she glances at the only other two in the room.

Alya closes her mouth and gives her best friend a sympathetic look.

Adrien breaths a little harder, his sadness mingling with his slight irritation that this whole time she had been deliberately feigning not hearing him.

“You…Do you really hate me that much?” he asks in a pained voice.

Marinette’s words are caught in her throat. She does the only thing she can.

She runs. Out the door and past a surprised Rose.

Alya follows after her, shouting her name.

Adrien stays standing, eyes wide and feeling oddly burning with unshed tears.

Stressed Over You (Steve x Reader)

DAY 7 of prompt posts 

Prompt: “Come here.” And “You could have died.” And “Do you regret it?” Credits to @thirtysecondsimagines

A/N: “The humble wood mouse. If it survives, it will be because of a remarkable skill to adapt to almost any new environment on its way to the future. And the future indeed, looks bright.” This is random, but can anyone guess where this is from without looking it up? One of my fav songs. By my fav band of all time. 

Word count: 1.8K

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

“you can’t die. please don’t die.” with walter ? (you're like. the only person writing for him right now as far as i know and im Desperate)


Originally posted by handsg0ld

Title: Please.
Pairing: ( Implied )Walter x Reader.
Fandom/Franchise/Film: Alien Covenant.
Words: 1,355.
Rating: T. (Mentions of blood, gore. )

“No…” You said, the sound echoing off the mosaic-like structure you found yourself in. The walls scaled yards upwards and it only seemed to stretch out for as far as you could see in the lack of light. What little luminescence you had bounced off the water flooding on the ground from impacted rain and seemed to lighten up your surroundings enough for you to highlight Walter’s body in front of you. Had you actually recovered your flashlight earlier, things would have been different. He would have seen just how afraid you were. Regardless of this, you were sure that the meager sound of your voice was enough to tell him that you were indeed frightened.

A static like crackling slid through the air in a rather breathless sort of way. It clung to the outer parts of the large room dancing around, whirling before making its way to your ear. Once there, it sent a small shudder down your spine. Licking your bottom lip, you pushed away the taste of sweat on your tongue. Irrationality was something you couldn’t afford, all the while you found yourself lunging towards Walter to protest once again. Walter caught hold of your shoulder with his left hand, cupping your mouth in his right. From the closeness, you could see the words scratched onto his expression. His mouth was slightly agape, as if he was ready to protest your own digression. Speaking too loudly would draw attention to your location. Bottom lip shaking in terror, Walter gazed down at you. You had only been this close to the Synthetic three or four times, yet each time you found it amazing ecstatic to feel some sort of lingering heartbeat under his fingertips.

He obviously had no real heart yet Walter found himself reacting as if he did when he was put in front of you. But, this was not an ideal place to think like that. Walter needed to focus.

Your dirtied weapon clicked against his fingers as he reached upwards to stop you from letting go of it and allowed it to rest against his chest rather than your own. The imminent danger around every possible corner, every crevice of the strange ship you were in was a reminder than losing your weapon would not be wise, and he knew better than to let you lose it at a moment like this. Tears built up around your eyes, falling and swirling with the mixture of blood, mud and sweat that was stuck to your face. You couldn’t seem to get the taste of the planet off your tongue as you struggled to breath, struggled to think straight and refused to accept anything that Walter had just proposed to you.

Wait, you thought to yourself and blinked back a few drops of blood from the slash on your forehead. There was a small pulse where the cut was, like a headache but not as intense. It was more of a ghost-like pressure on your skin. You supposed the adrenaline in your body was messing with your nerves. Pain wasn’t registering regularly and accurately, but you were sure when you finally manage to get off the planet, rest and think about the nightmares here, it’ll all come back to you. In small doses first, gently creeping itself into your mind and into your vision, before engulfing you in complete and utter chaos in the form of dreams and remembrances that the universe wasn’t peaceful. It was far from it.

There were only a handful of your crew left. Not even, you looked up at Walter and took a deep breath in. Shutting your eyes, you focused and attempted to think about something other than the nightmares already plaguing your mind. Maybe one or two, including the Synthetic currently holding you so you didn’t collapse against the cold, damp ground. Maybe that many were still alive, if you were lucky.

He repeated what he had said only moments before. “You must leave, now. Find who you can and leave. David won’t stop until he gets what he wants. I’ll try to stall him, you just need to get out of here before he finds you.” Your eyes fluttered open and caught hold of his bright eyes. Even in this evil darkness, they managed to be lively and unclouded. Walter remained as calm as he was in any other situation. There were no registering emotions for this sort of predicament, and it would be a waste to show fear when you were leaking it from your very core. Cupping your shoulders, he picked you up slightly and let one of his hands fall to your chin and forced you to look at him. The touch only lasted a second before he tore his hand away and diligently rested them by his side. “You must go.”


“He will kill you, (Name).” Walter said to you you and if you listened closely enough, you could hear the creeping melancholy seeping behind his voice, “I was made to serve, let me do what I was programmed to do.”

Shakily releasing what little breath was collected in your lungs, you stepped forward cautiously, cocking your weapon upwards and holding it against your chest as if telling him that you weren’t going anywhere, you finally digressed his words with your own, “I can’t just leave you here. He’ll…. He’ll kill you too.” Walter stared at you, letting your voice slowly leak into his memory. It was a sound he surely wanted to remember if he was going to get stuck on this godforsaken planet; it was a sound he wanted to replay over and over before complete darkness overtook him.

You can’t die… Please don’t die…” You begged, reaching up and touching his right cheek. You could feel the smoothness if his external skin, feel the warmth rushing through your fingers and up your arm. “Let me stay, let me fight him with you. We can… We can do it…” The grip on your weapon increased with the severity of your words. You knew what you were doing was completely off the charts, and perhaps even unheard of. A human ready to fight for the survival of a Synthetic. They weren’t even human though they could look at you with the most humanistic traits and emotions swirling behind their gazes. Seafoam eyes that you could literally get lost in if you dared to dive into them. That’s what you wanted to do right now. You wanted to drown and get lost in them. If only you could.

That’s irrational.” He informed you gently, reaching up and touching your shoulder. It was a meager grazing of his fingers against your clothed skin but made you shudder regardless. “He will kill you, (Name).”

“I’ll find a way to come back for you…” You whispered weakly, pressing your free hand against his chest. You knew there was nothing there but for a split second you swore you could have felt some sort of heartbeat under your damp finger tips. That was an immature promise to make. A line from some cheesy movie made years and years ago.

“There’ll be nothing to come back for,” Walter told you.

It was hard to hear and hard to absorb, but deep down, you knew it was the truth and making pitiful promises like some hero wasn’t going to serve you any favors in the situation you were in. You needed to get out, you needed to catch your ride out of this literal hell, but not before saying. “I’m sorry,” Your voice was meagerly above a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear properly. “I wish…”

“It’s quite alright,” Walter said, his eyes scanning the room once again. They finally rested on you when he picked up no movements in the near darkness. Your breathing was becoming a bit more sporadic out of minor fear, your heart rate elevated, and your fingers were fidgeting with your weapon, Walter took notice. “I do understand. It was a privilege to have met you and served for you, (Name).”


Hope you all enjoyed! Reblogs, likes and comments are all appreciated!



[title]: Missed

[pairing]: Bucky x Reader

[prompt]: Kind of a “You never know what you got ‘till it’s gone” type of thing when the Reader leaves for a mission and Bucky misses her.

[warnings]: swearing, fluff, fluff, fluff

[a/n]: ft. me rambling again this is actual nonsense 

Originally posted by allthingsmarvell

           [y/n] liked Bucky Barnes. She had never heard him speak a word in English ever. The only noises she had ever heard him make were mumbles in Russian, grunts, and whines of terror in the night. Bucky was quiet and [y/n] liked that. And she was so confused when other people didn’t feel the same way.

           She couldn’t fathom why some of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would look at him the way they do. She didn’t get what people didn’t understand about the fact that what happened wasn’t Bucky’s fault. She wondered why Bucky sat all by himself when Steve was away, the others avoiding him like he was fucking diseased.

          So she sat next to him one day. He was staring at the blank television screen while Steve was away on a mission. She plopped down next to him, turning the TV on. He turned to look at her with an expression that she couldn’t read. So she gave him a small smile and flipped through the channels.

Keep reading

Single Neck

Fandom: Don’t Starve
Main Character: Wilson, Maxwell

Note: I wrote this a while ago, a slightly less detailed version, after I was done with a vent piece of art, featuring the same quote. Yes, I know where the actual quote is from, but it’s a very depressing one, and certainly fits a few things. I rewrote this because I’ve been feeling down. Content Warnings for suicidal thoughts and almost attempts

Keep reading

something that i think is important to think about: adam & ronan, not plagued by demonic possessions or night horrors or eye horror, spending the rest of their school year & their summer behaving like shitty teenagers who are head over heels for each other, alright. because that’s what they are, on top of all the other things that they are, they’re kids who can’t stop looking at each other

adam wearing ronan’s jackets. ronan loitering looking sketchy as hell waiting for adam to be out of class, off work, done with an essay.

adam & ronan making out in the bmw, in adam’s shitty car, in the obnoxious flatbed truck ronan dreams for himself because he’s a farmer now & farmers need obnoxious flatbed trucks, in the parking lot of monmouth, of the church, of aglionby, of fox way when everyone else thinks they’re just running late. because when you’re eighteen & into each other every second you spend not making out feels like a bit of a waste of time, really. 

they steal street signs that say things like ‘high street’ & ‘gaylord lane’ & run red lights & joyride when the cops aren’t looking, run off from the grocery store parking lot with a shopping cart which ends up busting a wheel anyway but it’s still fun

adam & ronan sneaking into movies together but not actually watching them, into the national park when the moon’s big & bright, to go skinny dipping. to stay up all night & watch the sunrise. climbing up on roofs of buildings. on bridges and bypasses. up trees. on the eaves of the church. 

& staying up all night– with their friends, pitching a tent out on the lynch’s property & all of them crammed in there together, ronan’s fingers looped around adam’s ankle. & with each other, because all of a sudden they both have a thousand things they want to know about each other & they have to know them right now. 

What about a character in musicals who doesn’t know they’re in a musical?

When the MC starts singing about how fed up she is with her day to day life, this person runs along beside her saying stuff like “are you okay?” “Why are you singing?” “When did you write this song?” “Oh my god! Can you not stop?!” Then freaks out completely when passers by start joining in with the song because “OMG IT’S SPREADING!!!”

For every other character the musical is about true love or growing up or racism or something, but for this one person it’s actually about defeating ‘the singing plague’ while hundreds of people watch you from behind a screen (which none of their friends can see? Even though it’s really obvious?)

There’s just this whole subplot about this character constantly breaking the fourth wall and getting labeled crazy and wondering if everybody’s right about them— then at the very end of the musical, they join in the singing to fit in— even though they keep tripping over their words and can’t understand what’s going on.

It’s a funny romantic comedy with a subplot about this one character who gets sucked into a musical cult.

knightxxxxx-deactivated20170925  asked:

Hey babe, do you have any tips for staying motivated?

i always like to make little lists, or keep moodboards on Pinterest! relying on some sort of encouraging thought always keeps me going. ☺️ i’ll make it a point each day to always have *something* to look forward to, even when life seems bleak or i’m feeling really lost - no matter how small the thing may be. “i don’t have any upcoming plans to stress me out right now” / “i’m almost done with (insert task)” / “i’m saving up to buy (insert object you’re listing after).” tiny thoughts like that always seem to increase my optimism. 💕 keeping moodboards on Pinterest is also something that makes me smile, at the very least! i like to create themes - a board for magical, fairy-like imagery; a board for clothing i love; a board filled with house inspiration; a board with quotes of encouragement for me to keep in mind daily (try writing one on your hand)! it’s like a form of visual journaling that does wonders for releasing my creativity when i’m not feeling up to making art or doing anything that takes a lot of my physics energies. remember that there is always something to dream about, always something to reach for in our times of plague. wishing, hoping, and planning can be such good little encouragers. 😌🙏🏻