sorry it's dark but i like my room to be cave like

Look, we need to talk about this Ok

This wasn’t some happy go luck episode, this wasn’t the sweet cool Starco episode everyone is trying to make it out to be or whatever. This was intense. This kid as been traveling and fighting for 16 years.

Marco traveled to every single dimension,(without sicors), He faced hundreds of monsters, he learned amazing things. He blew out every single flame of every single clone

Marco grew up guys. he grew UP. He built a life for himself. he lived for 16 years alone in the roughness of uncivilisation, with only himself to look out for. Constiantly tracking down clone after clone after clone.  He becomes a warior.

And yet, when he arrives at her doorstep, he doesn’t  attack her, and she doesn’t attack him. Infact, when he arrives, she’s already forming his scissors

She’s content, She’s plaesed. She has accept his work, and delcared  him worthy of the responiblility of having dimensional siccors. 

And marco has a similar reaction as well, he doesn’t immedetly take the scissors, doesn’t blow out her light as soon as possible. No, he sits down, gets comfy. he relaxs and tells his tales to her.

“you barley escaped me on the exploding flames of endor. And when I lost your trail in the mist of the never zone, I thought I’d never find you.”

They know eachother. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her. The REAL her since their first encounter when he was fourteen. They’e meet before, they’ve battled, and ran and talked formed an odd frenship out of their bond.

And then He rises to blows out her flame, and she lets him. She stands there, content as he softley, blows it out

“Not bad for a human. I underestmated you.”

And then, Star bust in….

And of cousre, Marco is happy to see her. He hasn’t seen her in over, and I’ll say it again, 16 years (reminder, normal people go to school for 12 years! First grade to senior. Marco has been working for those things, longs than the normal person goes to school.)

Now, I’m not here to go through this episode slide by slide, so lets move on. Marco finds out he’s only been gone from earth for 8 minutes, he get annoyed, ut then Star encourages him to come back home with her, so that everything can go back to normal.

Here’s the thing guys. Marco has spent the last 16 years matureing, fighting, living, He’s been spending the last 16 years BUILDING A LIFE. he doesn’t want to go back. he likes his life.

He likes the adventure, his sword and his dragon-motercikle pet thingy. The likes the life he’s build for himself here.

And this scares her. She pleads with him. BEGS him even. “But, what about your parents, your freinds….Me?” Star puts Marco in a position where he has to pick between his life, what he likes and her.

And here’s where this show gets really deep. he looks at his pet.

Guys you can feel that stabbing pain in your heart right? Right?  Oh man and then he looks at Hekapoo. This girl he’s chased for 16 years. 

“Don’t look at me, those siccors are yours now…you can come back here, anytime you want.”

So he makes his decision

But before he goes, he bids them goodbye. He asks Hekapoo to look after his pet. His one compainion on the road. And she agrees. 

Then he turns to her. Like when he entered, he greets her like an old freind, because that’s who she is. She’s not someone he resents, She’s some one he trusts. Someone he has faith in and who he know he can depend on.

“Likewise”

I mean, I’m sorry, but have you SEEN the way they’ve been looking at eachother this entire time? Their eyes, relaxed, smiles oh so small.Serriously, go back through the pictures I have here. you’ll see what I meant Mabye I’m crazy, but it almost seems like they’re in love. 

ha hah hah just kidding…sort of.

 Back to buisness.

Look at this. This is her thing. She’s been doing this to him since they first meet. It’s a way she “shows [her] affection” in the words of Toph

It’s what she does. He has something simillar to that as well

“Later H-poo.”

“Don’t call me that!”

They know eachother. They’ve know eachother for 16 years. They’ve been teasing eachother all that time while he’s been chasing her and she’s been slipping through his fingers. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like some wicked love story. 

But it’s not, because she’s some, immotal being and he’s a human and he’s ment to be with Star…That’s fine. I get that but still!

I meanserriously, when Hekapoo  creates siccors, she makes them individually for the owner, and look at marco’s

The blade’s are thick, and kind of resemble a sword, given how that’s the wepon he’s been using all this time, and it’s part of his pasword..but look at the that little flame where the blade conects to the handle? Doesn’t that look like her flame crown?

no, actually, it doesn’t. But it DOES  look like her clone’s crowns. The clone’s he’s been chassing and fighting al these years. She placed a bit of herself in his siscores because she was that important to him. (or at least she was important to his mission)

.

.

.

Ok, Ok, Ok….now here’s 

The most important stuff. 

Marco is back in his 14 year old body. He’s back on earth’s time line, and Star thinks its all fine and dandy…but it’s not.

Marco isn’t the same guys. He’s been gone for 16 years. He’s 30 years old mentally. Watch as he takes in his room, observing it like some alein place.

And he walks over to his computer, almost scared to touch it. These last few years, Marco’s probablby survied off of whatever he could kill or make with his own two hands. This kind of advancement…it might make him feel uncomftorble, like he’s cheating at life. 

“Password..? I don’t remember my password.”

For last 16 years, Marco has  probabbly been sleepin gon rocks, on the ground in caves. watch how catius he is lowering himself onto his bed. After two years, most soilders in the army can’t handle sleeping on beds because they’re “too soft” Imagine how marco feels. I mean, his sandwitch is still warm, as if none of his life had ever happened

This isn’t some crazy Narnia junk where Pete, Edwin, Lucy and Susan half forget what their life was like in narnia when they de-age after walking through the wardrobe. Where they go back to being kids mentally as well, as though their entire adventure was a dream.

NO.

Marco remembers it all. And this is HUGE. The show brodened on that. they showefd how uncomftorble he looked as he stood in his room all alone, because it was essential to show the effects that were left on him. 

This isn’t some happy Starco episode. this isn’t some cool ‘lets drool over adult marco’ episode either. This is some dark, bittersweet life. And you guys need to stop trying to weasle out of these facts.

anonymous asked:

"Soulmates who can feel each other's (read: emotional) pain" for nurseydex? If you could make it more nursey-centric that'd be great, but if u don't that's still fine 👍

Thanks for the prompts! Hope you like


Dex was in the kitchen when it felt like the floor fell out from under him.

The bowl of batter in his hands clattered to the counter. “Holy – holy fuck,” he gasped. Everything in him ached. There was a pressure in his head. His chest felt like it was about to cave in. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed, and gripped the edge of the counter to keep from falling to the floor. He had no idea what had caused this pain, when moments before he’d been perfectly content. He hung his head and scrunched his face and now, along with the hurt, he was angry, angry that something, someone, had made Nursey feel this way. He had nowhere to direct the anger. It hurt so much. It ripped out of him in a wordless yell as he slammed a fist to the surface in front of him.

“S- sorry, Tango,” he gritted out, eyes still screwed shut.

Tango stood next to him. He held his hands in front of him, like he wanted to touch Dex but was afraid. He looked worried. “What’s wrong? Do you know what’s wrong?”

Dex picked his head up and turned to Tango. “No.” He wiped at his cheeks. They were wet. He didn’t know when he’d started crying. “But I’ll find out.”

Dex really was sorry. He hadn’t meant to scare Tango. It was just – the pain was so much, too much for him to hide. He climbed the stairs to the attic, trying to muffle his sobs.

The attic door was closed. Dex knocked lightly. This pain was not his. Just because he felt it didn’t mean he could intrude where he wasn’t wanted.

He heard a muffled “come in,” and pushed the door open slowly. Nursey was on the bottom bunk, wrapped in blankets and curled on his side, facing the wall.

Dex projected his hurt outward. His breath rasped through him, and tears gushed down his face, and each exhale was a soft moan. Nursey’s pain was directed inward. He was still and silent, his breathing calm. Dex would have thought he was asleep.

Dex walked across the room, taking his shoes off as he went. He pulled back the covers and pressed himself to Nursey’s back. He clutched at his middle and shoved his face into his shoulder blade. He pressed his cries into the soft fabric of Nursey’s hoodie.

A few minutes passed, then Nursey turned over and nuzzled his face into Dex’s neck. The pain ebbed slightly. Tears continued to stream from Dex’s eyes, but he was silent. “What – what’s wrong? What happened?” he stuttered between uneven breaths. He stroked a hand through Nursey’s hair.

Nursey heaved a sigh. His breath tickled over Dex’s collar bone. “I’m gonna sound like an asshole.”

Another wave of pain. “Never,” Dex sobbed.

“And I’m even more of an asshole, because you have to deal with it too. This is shitty. You shouldn’t have to feel like shit just because I do.”

Nursey felt things strongly. That was something Dex loved about him.

He pushed at Nursey’s shoulders so he could look him in the eye. Dex could see the sadness there. “Nurse. There is no wrong reason to feel like this.” He wiped a palm over his eyes, the better to see his boyfriend, his soulmate. “This isn’t some, some inconvenience. You matter, and what you feel matters. And I want to do whatever I can to help.”

Nursey bit his lip, and his eyes turned glassy. “You were in the library today?”

“Of course.” Nursey knew he’d been in the library. They’d been studying together when Chowder had rushed up, bursting with excitement. He’d hauled Dex up out of his chair, jumping as he shouted about how he’d gotten into grad school, he’d applied to Berkeley, and they’d accepted him, and he was going to grad school. Dex was grinning, his smile splitting his face, when Chowder turned and did the same to Nursey. They all jumped and hugged and shouted until a librarian asked them to leave.

“Chowder – of course I’m happy for Chowder.” Nursey paused, struggling to figure out what he wanted to say. He took a deep breath, let it out. “I just – it’s scary. Everyone’s leaving. Jack, Shitty, Lardo, Rans and Holster, Bitty – they’re all gone. And now we’re gonna graduate. Chowder’s leaving. It might take you longer, but you’re gonna leave, too. And you’ll all forget about me.” He choked the last part out, his voice breaking. He ducked his head back into Dex’s neck. His neck felt wet, because now Nursey had started to cry.

They held each other as sadness ripped through them both. The sun went down, and the room was thrown into darkness. Eventually the sadness ran its course and left in its wake numbness and silence.

“I won’t leave,” Dex whispered.

“I know,” Nursey mumbled into Dex’s skin.

“Not just because we’re dating. Chowder won’t leave, and no one will forget you. We mean too much to each other.” He paused. He thought. “You mean too much to us,” Dex amended.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” Nursey sighed. “Sometimes I just forget.”

“That’s alright.” Dex kissed Nursey’s forehead. “I’ll remind you.”  

Protégé [Part 1]

Originally posted by eatupbangtan

A series of three raps to your door in quick succession had you dropping your hands to your desk, the application you were going over losing your attention. 

“Come in.” You said, not raising your voice because you knew you didn’t need to. You would be heard. 

You wiped a hand over your face, hoping to rub away the dull ache of tired eyes. You’d been reading over files for a good portion of the evening, and it was starting to wear on you. The door of your office swung open, revealing the familiar face of Jaebum, who offered you a courteous smile with an undertone of apology for disturbing you.

You returned the smile, but said nothing. Jaebum had been working for you long enough to know that if he came into your office, it was for a reason or with a purpose. 

“Got a walk in for you.” He said, hovering just inside the doorway. 

Your brows that had been raised in intrigue fell as you pursed your lips. “It’s Saturday at four in the afternoon, the doors aren’t even opened yet.”

He nodded his head along with your words, as if he’d already anticipated them. “I know, I’m sorry. We tried to chase him off a couple of times, but he won’t leave. Says he wants to talk to you in person.”

“Well for Christ’s sake, Jaebum.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you lightly slapped your palm flat against the top of your desk. “Tons of people want to talk to me, it doesn’t mean they can.”

“I know.” Jaebum nodded again, clearing his throat after a long beat of silence. “I really don’t think he’s leaving though.”

Keep reading

Blue Orchids -Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: I immediately thought of Bucky when I heard this song and have been meaning to write it for a while. I finally got to it and I hope you enjoy it.

Notes/Warnings: Nightmares, hot coffee lol, fluff and flirting

Originally posted by bucha-nan

Blue Orchids

Glenn Miller (words and music by Hoagy Carmicheal)

I dreamed of two blue orchids
Two beautiful blue orchids
One night while in my lonely room
I dreamed of two blue orchids
So full of love and light
That I wanted to possess each tender bloom
Then my dream took wings
And through a thousand springs
Blue orchids seemed in a world apart

 Bucky tossed and turned in his bed, kicking at his sheets and clutching the cover of his pillows. His eyes screwed shut and he mumbled soft no’s over and over.

 Hydra was chasing him and through a shadow coated forest, he ran. He ran as hard as he could but it didn’t seem to be enough. Thugs in all black, carrying electric wands, shouted as they closed in on him. Bucky begged for them to leave him alone, to just let him be. He wasn’t hurting anyone so, why couldn’t they let him live in peace?

Keep reading

Sparks Fly

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

*Requested

Imagine: In 1919, while looking for ripper Stefan, who went missing nearly a year ago, you have a very pleasant meeting with one the oldest vampires in existence: Klaus Mikaelson. 

Warnings: slight smut, bad words and, oh, well, it’s a vampire imagine, there’s gotta be a little blood. haha

N/A - Not quite as you requested, but I hope you like the same way, anon. :) Also, you guys could read this while listening to Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift. I heard it repeatedly when I was writing this one. 

Word Count: 2326 

Dear Damon,

I am aware of the promise I made to sent you a letter every month, so you know that I’m alive, but things have been a bit messy lately. Moving from one place to another has not given me much time to write; actually, my only true focus is finding our brother and getting him back to his oldself. Perhaps I’ll be able to do that here in New Orleans, which, by the way, is a wonderful city. You should be here to see the night lights and cheerful dances.

Oh, shucks! That reminded me I have got to meet up with my friend Lexi in twenty minutes at this famous pub. Apparently, the Original family is here (yes, the one who created all other vampires) and goes there every evening, she thought it would be a cool way to blow off some steam while we don’t find Stefan.

She might have a solid point.

Well, I will not extend myself, for I have to leave, however, don’t worry about me, everything is fine and I got the feeling this it. So, soon enough, we’ll be joining you in Paris.

I miss like crazy those cold winter days…

Anyway, kisses and hugs to you from your loving sister

                                                                                                    Love you,

                                                                                                                      Y/N.


You dropped the exquisite pen on the table and sighed, thinking that what you were telling him was more than enough. Sure Damon would be pleased to hear you were still breathing, because, in his mind, chasing emotionless Stefan was dead end job. Not that he was wrong, but you were never the kind of girl who would leave someone behind, especially if that someone was your own flash and blood.

“Y/N Salvatore!” A voice cut through the silence of your house. “I can’t believe you’re not ready yet.”

“Hey, Lexi.” You smiled and stood up, moving smoothly towards the majestic mahogany wood wardrobe. “I completely forgot we were supposed to go out tonight! That’s why I’m not…”

“Don’t make excuses!”

“I’m not making any.” This time an angry huff slipped, as you diverted your eyes to the well hung dresses, not being sure which one you were going to pick.

The blonde woman, who was with arms crossed against the wall next to your door’s bedroom, rolled her eyes and cave in, as usual, approaching to help you get dressed. She always had a good eye for those stuff, making anyone advised by her look hauntinly fabulous.

A short time later, after your friend decided what was suitable for the place, you stared yourself in the mirror, feeling ready to steal any man’s heart because the baby pink gown you had on highlighted your every curve, also giving an insinuating gleam to your once innocent traits. Absolutely perfect to a girls night out.

“We should go.” Lexi blurted out, after checking on the huge clock placed in one corner. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m sure that doesn’t matter” Your reply was gentle, as you worked on your Y/H/C wild curls. “But if it means that much to you, we can go now. And, maybe, we’ll find Stefan there, or at least a lead on his whereabouts.”

“Oh no.” The girl rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “We’re shutting off the ‘get my baby brother back’ thing for a night.”

“Lexi!”

“Shush. Don’t argue with me.” Now her index finger was pointed sharply on your face. “And listen: I know you love him and that he is very important. However, not everything is about Stefan. Or Damon. You are your own person, so live a bit and enjoy the pleasures of life.”

Somehow, you were not able to shout out a rude response. Instead, after a couple of minutes, you exhaled tiredly and nodded, agreeing that she was right. Lexi squeezed the nude skin of your shoulder and you glanced at her, finding her so sweet and so comforting brown eyes.

“Can we please have some fun now?”

“Sure, blondie.”

“Now that’s the Y/N I know.”

You two shared a quick laugh and left the cosy pension room, going to your natural habitat: the darkness.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Different anon than the one who asked about Iruka and Urahara, but your response got me thinking of just who else in Naruto-verse, besides Oro, has pulled enough shit to deserve the creepy courting rituals of one Mister Hat-and-Clogs, and my evil, broken brain spat (T)Obito at me, so now I'm sharing the pain. Just imagine them though: two overly-strategic, manipulative bastards with a penchant for trolling everybody by masquerading as happy ditzes. (1/4?!)

The cat-and-mouse game between them would be epic and utterly obnoxious to everyone forced to witness it, but Obito without a mask must have a critically weak pokerface and it’d probably take Kisuke no time to tease out that all he needs to break it with a blush is lay the innuendo on thick. That pale Uchiha skin. The rest of the challenge for Urahara is entirely based on managing to contrive excuses to get in Obito’s personal space without him using Kamui to slip away, because I’m of the opinion that every Obi-pairing ever, in any universe, should include touch-starved!Obito eventually getting scooped up and overwhelmed with cuddles. For a side of angst, they’d have to work through Kisuke’s tenuous grasp of scientific ethics when presented with someone with such a fascinating hodgepodge of ridiculous powers, colliding with Obito’s probable PTSD and body-horror from cave time with Madara and Zetsu. :( 

 But since my real OTP is Obito/ANYbody-big-enough-to-cuddle-him, in any universe, eventually Kisuke’s gotta sneak some snuggles. Maybe right after Obito genjutsus the fuck out of Aizen for being another wannabe-god, and it’s the sexiest thing Urahara’s ever seen. Just. If any Naruto character is enough of a karmic mixed-bag  to deserve being affably harrassed and poked at and force-fed sweets by goddamn Urahara Kisuke, isn’t it Obito?

For the record, I hate you muchly and this is now a thing I ship. Whyyyyy. 


Gin knows he’s going to die.

It’s not as if this was ever in question; betraying Aizen isn’t something survivable, and Gin’s been aware of that from the very first. That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop, though.

Rangiku is worth more than that, and so is getting revenge for what was taken from her.

The Hōgyoku pulses in his grip like a heart torn free, and Gin doesn’t think he’s ever hated anything except Aizen himself more.

In the rubble left behind by Kamishini no Yari, something stirs. Gin glances up, muscles winding tight, because of course it wasn’t going to be as easy as snatching the damned thing from Aizen’s chest and beating a retreat; he’s bought himself some breathing room, a calm like the moment before a hurricane hits, and—

The Hōgyoku trembles like it’s going to wink out, and in the same instant a scarred hand closes over Gin’s, all five fingertips glowing incandescent violet.

Gin jerks, startled into flight, but another hand grabs his wrist as his head snaps up. Not Aizen, because he would be dead if it was, but a complete stranger, scarred and grim with eyes like red-and-black pinwheels.

“Seal,” the stranger commands, not so much as looking at Gin, and Gin yelps as a burning heat races across the skin of his abdomen. The Hōgyoku shivers like struck crystal, then winks out of existence, and simultaneously Gin feels it. There’s a rush of heat through his whole body, a tingling awareness that it’s there just beneath the surface, and he collapses to his knees with a gasp.

In the same moment, there’s a scream of pure fury from Aizen, out of sight beyond the rubble, and Gin realizes that the overwhelming pressure of the Hōgyoku on the town around them is entirely gone.

“Sorry,” the stranger says, releasing Gin’s wrist, though he doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “That was the thing all of this is about, right? The perverted bastard’s pet project?”

Well. Gin’s more used to hearing that phrase used to describe him, but in this context he’s going to assume the man means Urahara. “What did ya do?”

“Sealed it,” he says precisely, as if this answers everything. “If the Kyuubi no Kitsune can’t break an Eight Trigrams Seal, neither can that thing. I’m sorry it had to be you I sealed it into, but I was kind of short on options.”

On the list of things Gin truly Does Not Want, having the Hōgyoku sealed inside of him probably ranks up there with kissing Aizen full on the mouth. Still, it’s definitely better than the alternative, and he gets his feet under him with an effort and pushes upright. His shihakusho is already tattered, and he tugs it aside to find dark, heavy lines written across his stomach, a spiral of black ink surrounded by neat characters.

“I don’ think I want ta be a butterfly,” Gin says, a little faintly.

The stranger blinks, clearly startled, and then snorts. “You’re not going to transform. It’s sealed. You can’t use its power, and neither can anyone else.” Apparently dismissing the matter, he turns away, just as a familiar figure staggers around a broken street corner with seething fury in his face.

“You,” Aizen spits, bringing Kyōka Suigetsu up like a threat. “What have you done?”

Despite himself, Gin almost takes a step back. He’s never seen Aizen truly angry, even at the moment of his betrayal, never seen raw shock on his face like this before. It’s…terrifying.

But the stranger just snorts, facing him squarely. His eyes flicker past Aizen’s figure, to where Urahara Kisuke is just stepping down onto the street with narrowed eyes and an unreadable expression, and he smiles.

It’s not a nice expression.

“You’re not the first would-be god I’ve dealt with,” he says flatly. “And compared to the actual god I’ve faced, you don’t even begin to match up.” A step, and the air warps around him like a vortex. He vanishes, winking out of existence, and Gin shifts forward before he can help himself, not entirely sure what he means to do beyond help, and—

Aizen spins, sword slashing through the air, but it passes right through the stranger ass he reappears. Then he’s abruptly solid again, just in time to whirl and kick Aizen in the gut.

A flicker of flash-step and Urahara appears next to Gin, one hand holding his hat in place and a small, quirked smile on his lips. “My, my,” he says, and the tone is light but his eyes are sharp. “It seems our visitor from another dimension has lots of tricks up his sleeve.”

Gin glances at the stranger just in time to see him slam a hand against Aizen’s chest, fingertips glowing again, and Aizen cries out as every last trace of his reiatsu vanishes from the air. “You were keepin’ the kid in reserve?” he asks, because this is definitely not something Aizen knew Urahara had.

It’s hard to tell whether he’s getting more satisfaction from that thought or from watching Aizen get his ass kicked by a man who doesn’t even seem to be trying.

Well. Both, probably. Scratch that, both definitely.

Urahara chuckles, tipping his hat down over his eyes a little more, though his gaze doesn’t leave the rather one-sided fight. Gin had known that Aizen had never excelled at hand-to-hand the way he did at kido, because he’s spent decades learning the bastard’s weaknesses, but even knowing that it’s easy to see the stranger is good, on top of his ability to turn intangible. “No, no. Our cute little visitor didn’t even know about Aizen until a few minutes ago. He must have felt the two of you appearing in the real Karakura and come to find me. Such an adorable tsundere, don’t you think?”

Gin watches the adorable tsundere deliver an uppercut to Aizen’s jaw that audible cracks bone, and refrains from commenting.

There’s no need, anyway; without the Hōgyoku, without his reiatsu, the blow knocks Aizen back on his heels, and a final roundhouse kick catches him in the side of the head. He crumples like a puppet without strings, collapsing into a heap on the ground, and the stranger pulls back, breath still even as if he hadn’t just gone up against a man who practically laid the Gotei 13 to waste.

“Oi, pervert,” he calls, without looking away from Aizen. “You want him gift-wrapped or something?”

Urahara laughs merrily, flash-stepping to the strangers side. “My, my, Obito, you’re certainly thorough.”

Obito turns a dark look on him, though it holds more aggravation than true anger. “I just watched him kick your ass. And Yoruichi’s. Was I supposed to go easy on him?”

“Revenge? For our sakes?” Urahara asks cheerfully, and before Obito can dodge he catches him around the waist and pulls him into what’s either a hug or an octopus’s stranglehold—Gin can’t quite tell. “How sweet of you!”

With a squawk, Obito tries to pry him off, but doesn’t get far. “Let go, you damned creep! Hey! Where do you think you’re putting your hands—hey!”

“Ouch,” Urahara says in mild protest, though his wince isn’t entirely faked. “I’ve already been abused once today, you know.”

Tellingly, Obito stops struggling instantly, practically sinking back into Urahara’s hold. “Idiot,” he says, and there’s more relief than anything in his tone. “You know I would have helped if you had just asked.”

“How was I supposed to know out new freeloader had experience taking out gods?” Urahara protests with something that’s probably supposed to be a pout. “How rude, keeping these things from your lover, Obito.”

“Who’s my lover?” Obito retorts without hesitation. “Stop saying when it’s not even true!”

“But it could be—ow.”

“I changed my mind. Go die,” Obito snarls, shoving Urahara back by the face. “Let me go, you can deal with the butterfly bastard—”

“Gin!”

Gin turns quickly, catching a flash of color out of the corner of his eye, and just has time to open his arms before Rangiku plows into him. He huffs, staggering back a step, and feels her hug him impossibly tight for three full seconds. Then she pulls back, expression shading towards fury, and slaps him full across the face.

“You bastard, you knocked me out,” she hisses, though her eyes are distressingly damp. “You can’t just apologize and then disappear, I thought you were going to die!”

“Ah, Ran-chan—”

You were?!”

Rangiku has always been able to read him far too well.

Somehow it’s that thought above all others that makes Gin suddenly realize that—they’re done. Aizen has been beaten, and while Gin won’t relax until the bastard is nothing but ashes, he’s certain Central 46 will take care of that soon enough. The man looks small and pathetic inn defeat, and Gin can’t help but laugh, slumping forward as every muscle goes weak with relief.

Rangiku catches him.

Of course she does.

“It’s over,” he tells her, just in case she missed it.

There’s a long pause, and then a careful kissed pressed to his hair. “It is,” Rangiku agrees. Amusement shades into her tone as she asks, “Their doing?”

Gin doesn’t look to where Urahara and Obito are still bickering, just hums quietly in agreement.

Then, without any warning, a truly massive beacon of reiatsu practically explodes into existence. Gin wrenches around on instinct, shoving Rangiku behind him as he grabs for his zanpakuto, and a figure in black with daylily hair seems to spontaneously appear before them.

There’s a long moment of silence as Kurosaki Ichigo blinks at Gin and Rangiku, at Obito still shoving at Urahara as the exile clings to him, at Aizen unconscious in the dirt. Then, in a tone of utter bewilderment, he says, “What?”

A laugh cracks out of somewhere deep in Gin’s chest. He staggers with the force of his mirth, hanging onto Rangiku to stay upright, and doesn’t stop laughing for a very long time.

It feels better than anything has in almost a hundred years.

Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader- Stalker From Another Universe (Part 4)

I was about to post this, but then my mind got side tracked and then I fell into the void that’s named Tumblr.  When I finally snapped out of my daze, I forgot that I was posting something….. This is what you do to me Tumblr!!!

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Warning: Swearing, blood.  There’s nothing to worry about here….

Tagging: @cheyennethefangirl, @its-scarlet-witch-bitch

Keep reading

Young!Sirius Black x Reader: Novelist

AN: Two in one day, look at me go! I made Remus very uptight in this one and that makes me laugh.

Warnings: N/A

Requested by: Anonymous

“Babe.”

“Babeee.”

“Baaaaaabbbeee!”

“What, Sirius?!” Y/N called out, slamming her book down in exasperation.

He looked mock offended, flipping his hair over his shoulder and pouting his bottom lip. Y/N stared straight ahead, determined not to be drawn in by his fake attitude.

“You were very incessant a few moments ago, I’m sure the thought hasn’t slipped you now!” She continued.

Sirius lowered his eyelids so that only a sliver of his charcoal dark eyes could be seen. He strode over to the couch in the Gryffindor common room where Y/N sat, and took a seat himself on the arm. Looking down at her, he finally caved.

“Cuddle with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. She was in such a dreamlike state before, too. Being whisked away into a world that was completely different, with such a vivid scenery where her worries didn’t exist. And she had been ripped from it right as she was getting to the good part. Putting her book down on its face, she stalked up the girl’s stairs.

“I’m gonna be late for Quidditch practice.”

Sirius crossed his arms and huffed, like a very large child. He always wanted to be the center of attention and didn’t pick up books that often, so he didn’t understand the neglect he had been experiencing.

“But I haven’t gotten any affection all day!” He called.

“I’m sorry Sirius, we can cuddle after Quidditch practice. James will have my head if I’m not there. For now, why don’t you spend some time with Moony or Wormtail?” She shouted back.

“Because Moony doesn’t kiss as well as you do!” He retorted.

Y/N snorted loudly, but Remus had unfortunately been walking down from the boy’s dormitory at that exact moment.

“Charming.” He snarled, and disappeared out the portrait.

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh and sprawled onto the couch. Moments later, Y/N reappeared, decked in her Quidditch gear. She leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, and slicked his hair back into a low ponytail.

“Be good. I won’t be gone long.” She said, her hand lingering on his cheek.

“You’ll be gone forever.” He said, dramatically. “Besides, as soon as you’re back, your nose will be glued in that damn book again.”

“If I’m lucky!” She said, grinning, and left him to wallow in his own childish pity.

The moments always seemed to pass slowly when Y/N wasn’t there. Sirius laid by the window, watching from afar the brooms whizz around the pitch but couldn’t see well enough to make out her jersey number. He kept his hands preoccupied by flicking a dart at the wall, then retrieving it, and repeating.

Peter found this to be a very restless activity. He was trying to get some studying done and the constant PING! Of the dart made him want to scream.

“We have a midterm tomorrow.” He snapped.

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, absentmindedly.

“Worth 20% of our grade.” He continued.

“That’s cool, mate.” Sirius drawled on, not paying attention, but still searching for his girlfriend out on the pitch

“I think you should start courting Professor McGonagall, you two would have beautiful babies.” Peter tested.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Sirius said.

The pause that followed his statement was thick and choking, the ink from Peter’s quill making a pool on the table as he stared at his friend. Uncomfortable with the silence, Sirius looked up and saw Peter’s fixed expression, then recalled the conversation in his head.

“What? EW! You bastard! I wasn’t paying attention! Now you’ll never let me live this one down!” He fussed.

Peter snickered, shook his head, and continued to study.

“I’m bored.”

“Then study.”

“No Peter, I’m REALLY bored.”

“20%, pads, 20% of our grade.”

“You think I care about that right now?”

“You’re right, 20% of zero is still zero.”

At that, Sirius flicked the dart and it skimmed by Peter’s head with a whizz. Collecting his papers and pot of ink, Peter rose from the table, chuckling.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” Sirius cried, like a child being left by their parent.

“I need Moony’s help, I can’t remember how to cast an Aqua Eructo Charm.” Peter responded. “I’m headed to the library. You can come if you wish, but just know that Moony is extra on edge this week, seeing as it is TWENTY PERCENT of our grade.”

Sirius slumped in the window sill.

“Everywhere I go, I’m being replaced by books.” He pouted.

It wasn’t much longer until Y/N returned to the common room. The little burgundy bees landed on the Quidditch pitch and Sirius seemed to count seconds until they made it back to the common room. At the sound of the portrait door swinging open, Sirius leapt from his seat.

“Love, light of my life, I missed you!” He cried, picking up Y/N and spinning her around.

“Sirius! I need to shower, I’m awfully smelly.” She said, chuckling.

“You’re awfully perfect.” He replied.

James rolled his eyes, taking the two brooms and setting them off to the side.

“It won’t take long, I promise.” She said, chuckling. “It will be worth it.”

“Can I join you?” Sirius asked, slyly, raising his head from the crook in her neck.

“No, you tosser. Ten minutes, I promise.”

And she had abandoned him once more.

But this time was different.

Springing into action, Sirius snatched up her book and ran up the staircase to the girls’ dorm. Bypassing the guarding spells, he found her trunk and began to toss in all of the books that she had been reading recently. From fantasy to thriller, he lobbed every bound page of paper he could find in the trunk before snapping it shut and pulling it down the stairs.

Y/N hadn’t been lying, she did shower quickly in an effort to spend some more time with Sirius. Pulling her wet hair up, she dressed into some comfortable clothes and set off for his room. On the way up, she passed a very annoyed Remus once more.

“He’s the worst.” He was murmuring to himself. “Completely selfish, huge prat.”

“Oh boy.” Y/N said to herself.

Suddenly, she was nervous about opening the door to Sirius’s shared dorm. Prying the door open slowly, she couldn’t stop the huge smile from growing on her face. Sirius had yanked down all of the bedding from the Marauder’s beds and made a fairytale canopy pillowfort. A bouquet of flowers sat on the windowsill, and soft, muggle music played through the Marauder’s record player in the corner. Little twinkling lights that he had bewitched to float around the room, danced before Y/N’s eyes. He sat, very pleased with himself, on a bare mattress surrounded by stacks of Y/N’s books.

“Does your man deliver or does he deliver?” Sirius asked, pulling out a back of chocolates from Honeydukes and setting them off to the side.

“Sirius, what is this?” She asked, mouth still hanging in a confused smile.

Sirius jumped up to grab her hand, kissed it theatrically, then guided her to her new blanket castle.

“I figured if you were going to neglect me with books, then you should REALLY neglect me with those damn books. Read them to me, we can stay up all night darling.” He said, kissing her cheek.

“Sirius, you’re an incredible dummy, you know that?” Y/N said, with a small giggle.

“Uh-huh.” He replied. He pulled her into his lap, and leaned back on the cushion, running his hands though her hair. “Now we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so start reading missy.”

anonymous asked:

can I request some fluffy with narcissa on it?? like draco is a teeny afraid of her reaction to them and then finds out that harry and cissa are already good friends thank you very much, sir. or... something like this? just, like, harry and cissa being friends and drarry being fluffy and lovely together... ❤️

So, I started writing this fully intending to stick to your request and planning on making it a quick drabble…

Instead, it turned into 1407 words of emotional mess. I’m sorry!!! *covers embarassed face with her hands, but peaks through her fingers to assess your reaction*

I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! 

P.S.: I also tried a bit of a new style whith this, so let me know what you think of it! Yay or nay?


Draco’s heart had never beaten that fast before. Not even out of fear of the dark lord. But, oh, was it threatening to jump out of his chest from apprehension now.

The thing was, he had never had something so pure, so genuine, that he cared about and valued so deeply. He wanted it to stay that way, he wanted to protect it. He didn’t want anything to ruin it. Not even his mother. He just wouldn’t allow it.

That, however, didn’t mean that he wasn’t scared at the prospect of potentially losing her.

He walked into the living room wearily, mouth already open and ready to speak, but Narcissa wasn’t in there.

She wasn’t in the dining room either.

Nor in her bedroom.

She simply wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Unless…

Draco stepped down the stairs with extreme caution, brows furrowed in perplexity. What would his mother be doing in the kitchen? Yet, as he neared the end of the stairs, he started hearing the unmistakable sound of her voice. And… wait a second, was that… ?!

Draco rushed down the rest of the stairs, pretty sure that his heart had stopped beating. Either that, or it had literally made its way through his chest and was no longer inside of his body.

He opened the kitchen’s door with a trembling hand and…

He hadn’t been wrong. There they were, his mother and Harry fucking Potter, laughing together over a plate of biscuits and two – no, wait, three. Where they waiting for him? – cups of fuming hot tea.

He drew in a sharp breath. “What the fuck?!” he heard himself squeal. They both turned around abruptly, Harry’s smile sliding off his face and his cheeks turning red, while his mother’s blinding grin – something Draco hadn’t seen in years and years – remained firmly in place.

“Draco!” she chirped, sounding extremely delighted and clapping her hands together. “Come in, we were just waiting for you!”

Harry was now looking down at his cup of tea, stirring it slowly with an unsteady hand.

Draco’s feet moved of their own accord, though somewhat cautiously, as if he were approaching wild animals, and his mouth once again spoke out of its own volition: “What… the… fuck?!”

His mother had the nerve to laugh.

Draco stopped walking.

Harry looked up.

“Draco, I… ” he started, but was cut short by Narcissa waving him off. “Hush! I’ll explain, Harry dear,“ she interrupted.

Draco’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. Harry dear?! What in all of fuck was fucking going on there?

“Harry and I have been exchanging letters,” Narcissa announced, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Draco wanted to pinch himself, just to check if he was awake. He actually did so behind his back, sort of numbly hoping that he wasn’t in fact awake, but at last, he was.

“It started before the trials,” his mother continued, unperturbed. “He wanted to know if it was okay for him to testify in our favour, but not for Lucius. Obviously, I said yes. Then I wrote to him to thank him for his immense help and he replied saying that he’d like to give me your wand back…”

“I thought that had been the ministry,” interrupted Draco, his gaze darting between a fidgeting Harry and his overly calm mother.

“Well, I lied,” confessed his mother, still perfectly collected. “I didn’t want you to refuse to have it back out of pride. It was Harry’s idea, actually. He knows you very well. I was quite surprised,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who had now assumed a bright shade of fuchsia and was still avoiding looking Draco in the eye.

“Anyway, I was saying… ” proceeded his mother, looking back at Draco. “I wrote to him to let him know that it had worked and you were using your wand again and I asked him, if it wasn’t too much trouble, if he’d help you during this upcoming eighth year at Hogwarts. See, I always thought that you would’ve made a different choice if you had been given one and so I asked him to give you another chance. He agreed to keep an eye on you and from then on he wrote to me periodically to let me know how you were doing… ”

“That’s why you wouldn’t leave me alone this year! That’s why you were so keen on being my friend!” shouted Draco, a finger pointing accusingly at Harry.

“Draco!” bellowed his mother in indignation. “There’s no reason to yell at poor Harry, he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t wanted to.”

But Draco wasn’t listening. “What was I, just another project of the saviour? All this time I thought… and you… ” he spluttered, mind racing. Flashbacks of Harry insistently approaching him at the beginning of the school year came to him, of how he had finally caved in and a timid friendship had been born, promptly followed by memories of their first, hesitant, kiss and…

“It’s not like that!” Harry’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Yes, I initially approached you because your mother had encouraged me to, but I found myself genuinely enjoying your company and… ” Harry’s voice dissolved and he looked at Narcissa, brows furrowed, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“And… ?” prompted Draco, now all too aware of his heart threatening to explode in a million pieces.

“Yes, and… ?” seconded Narcissa, looking from Harry to Draco expectantly.

“I haven’t told her yet,” said Harry, now finally staring straight into Draco’s eyes, a silent plea hidden in his own. “I wanted you to tell her. And I wanted to tell you this the whole time, but I was sure that you would take it the wrong way and… but then you mother said to surprise you during the Christmas holidays and I knew I had to tell you one way or another so I… here I am. Draco, please. You have to believe me. What I… what we have… it’s completely genuine. Please, Draco, please.”

Harry sounded so desperate, he sounded like Draco felt, as if his heart was on the verge of breaking.

“I believe you,” said Draco, after a while. Harry visibly let out a deep breath. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, standing up and circumnavigating the kitchen table to stride towards Draco in a few quick steps. He stopped right in front of him, a silent question in his eyes.

Draco held out his hand, but, instead of taking it, Harry flung himself at Draco, throwing his arms around Draco’s neck and depositing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Draco let himself be engulfed by Harry’s heat and hugged him back, relief rushing through his body. He had really feared, for a moment, that it had all been fake. But he should’ve known better. This was Harry, his Harry, and he would never had done anything like that. “Sorry for doubting you,” he murmured in Harrys ear.

“It’s okay,” Harry reassured him, finally stepping back.

Then, Narcissa cleared her throat, bursting their bubble.

“I think there’s something you haven’t told me, mister Potter,” she said, looking at them severely.

Draco’s heart started fluttering in panic again.

He was about to start speaking, but Harry beat him to it: “Yes, Mrs Malfoy,” he said firmly, grabbing Draco’s hand and interlacing their fingers.

Narcissa simply blinked at them for what felt like a good minute, before jumping out of her chair as if something had startled her and clasping her hands together over her heart. Her eyes were wet, Draco noticed. “Oh, Draco!” she exclaimed, and, for the second time that that day, Draco soon found himself being held very tightly by a pair of familiar arms. He could feel Harry practically deflating in relief next to him, but he himself was too shocked to even breathe.

His mother was hugging him. She only did that when something extreme happened, like making it out of the war alive or being absolved at the trials shortly thereafter.

“Oh, my love, I’m so happy for you!” she said, and she sounded it.

Draco felt himself tearing up as well and finally moved, tentatively wrapping an arm around his mother’s waist.

Harry, who was still holding his hand, squeezed his palm tightly.

“I’m happy too, mother. I really am,” said Draco, truthfully, squeezing back.


  You can find more of my writing on AO3!

When You’re Gone

Pairings: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Angst, character death 

Word Count: 1260

Request: Could you do 1,8,&11 with some tony angst??? I love him oh so very much but at the same time I love watching him get hurt lol

Summary: All you have to do is get through today…

A/N: My heart aches 


You could feel how tired you were. The strain of your exhaustion weighing heavily on everything you did, looming like a dark cloud over your head. You’d barely slept for three days, catching only an hour or two between the plague of nightmares that never seemed to let you get any rest. At this point you were simply waiting for your body to give out on you.

Dragging yourself into the bathroom you splashed cold water onto your face, grimacing when you caught sight of your reflection in the basin mirror. Your skin looked gaunt, your lips dry and cracked; the area around your eyes rimmed red and puffy. Honestly you looked like a wreck.

Gripping the edges of the sink you swallowed hard around the lump sitting in the back of your throat, fresh tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you continued to stare at yourself.
I can’t do this Tony,” You whispered, voice cracking on every word. “Don’t make me.”
You closed your stinging eyes, hands shaking around the sink as you tried to rein in the panic building in the center of your chest. You had to hold it together, today of all days, you owed him at least that much.

A knock on your bedroom door broke your train of thought, your hands moving to wipe away the tears on your cheeks as you moved to open the door. Rhodey stood on the other side, fiddling with the tie around his neck nervously, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. As he looked up he gave you a soft smile, pulling you gently into a hug as you felt your resolve crack just that little bit more. You buried your face against the lapels of his jacket, fisting the fabric tightly as you shook in his arms, the sobs building in your throat raw and scratchy.
“He loved you y/n,” Rhodey said quietly against your ear. “So much.”
I don’t want to feel anymore Rhodes,” You cried. “It feels like my chest is caving in on itself and I can’t breathe…it hurts too much.”
“Hey, listen to me,” He commanded gently, pulling back so he could see your face, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears under your eyes. “It’s all baby steps y/n, you just have to get through today and that’s it.”
“I don’t know if I can - can even do that.”
“I’m going to be by your side the whole time, I’m not going to let you do this on your own.”

You nodded your head, stepping out of his embrace, taking a long, deep breath. Rhodey was right, it was just today…you could get through today at the very least. Squaring your shoulders you walked back to your side of the bed, picking up your jacket from where it lay on the duvet, hanging it over your arms before reaching into the top draw of the bedside table.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Three sentence fic: something inspired by that Sith!Luke and Vader in a bacta tank art you reblogged earlier?

(This is the art, by @3bsambi)

Good news: I did fill the prompt. 

Bad news: It is not 3 sentences long, and I can’t tell if it makes any sense because I wrote it all at once in a fit of hyperfocus at work, drove home, edited it once, and am now posting it. I have not slept more than 4 hours a night all week. I have a splitting headache. I think I’m a little high. can’t tell if this is bad or good.

Different news: It is 26 paragraphs long. Read the author’s note at the bottom for some explanation re: this AU I just made up. 

Keep reading

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw
  • A.N. Jason's significant other finds out Jason is back from the dead. hilarity ensues. inspired by an ask on @uncpanda
  • “well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”
  • That was all you could say when faced with the person in front of you eating the banana bread you had made earlier that night. You heard Alfred yell at you from the other room. Something about being ladylike and swearing, you loved the guy you’d think he’d be more forgiving considering your dead boyfriend, your un-dead boyfriend was eating your food.
  • “sorry Alfred.” You called. You stared at the person in front of you, he was leaning against the (expensive, custom made, Italian) granite counter top shoveling the remainder of your baked good into his mouth. Crumbs dribbled down his now strong jawline, his more green than blue eyes stared into your (e/C) orbs with a mix of fear, nervousness, happiness and sheer confusion. You put your hand on your hips looking up at the taller man who had just been a boy when he ha been taken away. A smirk found it’s way to his face and he reached out to pull you into hug. You accepted the hug.
  • “Oh hay bab-“ he was trying to press his lips against your jawline, you placed your hands in between you and his lips as a barrier.
  • “don’t ‘Hey babe’ me Jason Peter Todd. You faked your death for five years, didn’t tell me, ate all of my banana bread and you told literally everyone else in the family except your romantic partner. Oh excuse me former significant other and ex-fiance. Couldn’t you at least have had the decency to warn me? Or tell me? Why did you tell him and not me.” Your finger jabbed at his chest as your venomous words poured out. Each question grew in coldness. You pulled off your simple engagement ring and through it at his chest. It bounced off and rolled to the floor. After you were done there was a silence shared between the two of you as the iciness of your words and actions settled
  • “(y/n) I ca-“ before he could explain you spun on your heels. He followed you out of the kitchen and into the living room attempting to explain himself. He grabbed your wrist, you spun around and grabbed the nearest item. Which happened to be a vase filled with lilies and water and dumped the contents on you on him. you then flung the vase at a the wall (narrowly) missing Jason’s head as it smashed against the wall.
  • “that’s for my banana bread you bastard.” You yelled as you stormed away leaving the black haired man in a puddle of water and trampled flowers.
  • Bruce found you in the batcave reading photo albums in a pile of used tissues and chocolate wrappers. He sat down next to you and carefully moved the stack of photo albums next to him.
  • “so Alfred told you.” You sniffled as you pulled your legs up to your chest.
  • “actually no, the shouting, broken ming dynasty vase and a wet Jason lead me into the direction that you had.”
  • “sorry about the vase.” You murmured into your knees not meeting your mentor’s gaze.
  • “it’s okay, I can get another one. Its one of the perks of being a multi-billionaire.” He winked at you in a succeeded attempt to cheer you up. “you know he actually did die, he was actually dead. The joker did murder him and we did bury Jason. It was Ra’s who brought him back using the pit.” You sat up straight, stared at him your hands balled up taking your shirt in your hands in an attempt to keep your fists from shaking. Tears began to well up in your eyes threatening to pool over your (s/t) cheeks.
  • “How long?”
  • “what?”
  • “how long have you known?” your voice was slipping into the same cold tone from before.
  • “Three months.” Bruce said sheepishly refusing to meet your gaze. You let out a small chuckle.
  • “looks like everyone in this family knew that my boyfriend has been alive for three months except me.”
  • “if it helps Barbara slapped him.”
  • “it doesn’t but thanks for the sentiment. How did you find out?” you had a small smile on your face as you stared at your father figure.
  • “You know the Red Hood?” Bruce asked as he rested his hands in his lap.”Well, while you were away in Europe three months ago on that mission for Barbara we caught him red handed-“
  • “pun intended?” you asked grinning. He nodded and continued with his story.
  • “he told us not to tell you because he wanted to do it himself. He wanted to apologize and woo you, his words not mine. I was so overwhelmed by having him back I never questioned it. I loved having my son back, I should have understood that you would want to have his lover back too. (y/n), Jason loves you, so please give him a chance to redeem himself. Please give me a chance to redeem myself.” Bruce’s words were gentle as he took your hand and placed your ring in the palm of your hand.
  • “Thanks Bruce” you said as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The two of you stood up and parted ways. Him to wherever the hell Bruce spends his free time that wasn’t the bat cave and you to Jason’s room. You opened the door to the room that had been left in almost museum-esque condition after his death. There you found Jason asleep on the almost bed that had been too large for sixteen year old Jason and now seemed like a doll bed for the new man. There were tear marks on his cheeks and a few new scars. His face seemed older, more worn, more scarred. You ran your fingers through his hair playing with the new white streak that according to Bruce had been a product of the Lazarus pit. He needed to touch up his roots, the strawberry blonde was sticking out from underneath the dark hair. You ran your fingers down his forehead, down his face, you touched his jaw. His stubble stabbed your soft thumbs.
  • Your hands ran down his neck, down his chest to the ‘Y’ shaped scar across his bare chest. You gently touched the white scar tissue, he stirred before his eyes flashed open. He grabbed your wrist before he was able to register who it was.
  • “(y/n)”. you nodded. You stared at him, he loosed the grip on your wrist not meeting your gaze. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Tears pricked your vision as both of you sat there gripping each other like you could be ripped apart at any moment.
  • “I love you.”
  • “I love you too.” And then he kissed you. It was a slow Hollywood kiss, corny and gentle. He pulled away and then nestled his nose into your (color) hair.”you changed your shampoo.” He murdered as he breathed in, you nodded.
  • “hey babe, I’m sor-“ you cut him off with a feverish kiss. It was rough and passionate, you straddled him as you carefully held his hand in yours. You pulled away breathing heavily.
  • “Shush, Bruce explained everything.” You kissed him again, it was slower but still passionate. And then suddenly clothes were coming off and kisses were being shared under the covers.
  • He held you in his scar littered arms, your breathing matched eachother’s. your arms wrapped around his well defined waist as you both stared at each other (e/c) meeting aqua eyes. Both of you were smiling like idiots, like nothing was wrong.
  • “you kept the ring.”
  • “yeah, it felt wrong to get rid of it, to love someone else. To finally let you go, to finally except that you were actually gone.” He pulled you closer.
  • “I’m sorry I had to leave. But I’m back now and that’s what matters.”
  • “I’m glad you’re back.” You nudged your nose against his chest.”so Red Hood?” you teased.
  • “Yeah.” He grinned back.” I thought it was ironic. You know? Taking on the mantle of the man who killed me. Also aren’t you a little young to be making 80s chic flick references” He said with a wink.
  • “We’re literally the same fucking age Todd, also Heathers is a cinematic masterpiece. But seriously this explains the flirting. I was honestly starting to get freaked out that murderous, mentally unhinged, vigilante actually had a thing for me.” You said with a smirk.
  • “He does” Jason pressed a sloppy, wet kiss against your cheek.
  • “you know what I mean.” You teased back playfully swatting at him.” but I guess you can’t resist me”
  • “what can I say I’m a sucker for (h/c) haired cuties in skintight costumes with daddy issues and a thing for orphans” You said as he rubbed his freckled nose against your neck affectionately.
  • “You’re supposed to be my lover, not an asshole”
  • ”I can be both. Ready for round two?” he said with a smirk his green-y blue eyes clouded over with lust.
  • “only if you bake me a replacement banana bread. I needed that for a meeting I have tomorrow.”
  • “don’t talk about work when I’m about to make love to you, you moron. Also consider it done” Jason said as he kissed you.
Don't Mess with Ouiji Boards

we-will-always-save-the-day submitted:

I want to tell you a story about something that is happening to me right now. It started about 3 years ago. At first I thought it was nothing more than my grandfathers restless spirit playing pranks on me. He had died back in 2000 from a long battle with cancer and had always been a trickster in life, so it seemed like the easiest answer.

Three years ago, after years of begging, my mother bought me a ouiji board that she had picked up in a thrift store. I was out of the state for the weekend and when I came home there it was sitting on my bed. Immediately, I got an uneasy feeling but shrugged it off. I was always into the paranormal and finally having a ouiji board of my own was exciting. I tucked it away safely under my bed for the night and went to sleep. The next night I had a friend come over and play it with me. We both attempted to contact loved ones of ours who had passed away. She tried to contact and uncle and I of course tried to contact my grandfather. Needless to say, we were both discouraged believing that the board didn’t work.   After about an hour of us playing with this we decided that it was enough and packed the board up and put it away.

A few days past and everything was going well. I felt fine and was happy but one morning as I was getting ready for class I sat down on the edge of my bed. As I was pulling on my pants, I both felt and saw my bed cave as if someone had just sat down next to me. I began to shiver slightly and suddenly I became exhausted. And then as quickly as it had happened the bed uncaved and flattened out again. I stopped shivering and I regained my energy although I was still a little tired. I shrugged it off believing it to be just a trick my mind had played on me and headed off from school. 

A few days later, my brand new tv went on the fritz. It started turning off on its’ own. It would turn off, I would get up and turn it back on. When I would sit back down, it would turn off again. Over and over I continuously got back up to turn on my tv until I became frustrated and yelled, “Knock it off!” It didn’t happen again after that but I swear when I decided to turn it off for the night, I saw a quick slim shadow stride across the screen behind me. It was late and I was unusually exhausted that again, I shrugged this all off.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I began to believe it was my grandfather. My cousin and a friend of hers were taking photos on a digital camera down in the dining room. I was upstairs playing on the computer, which at the time was situated so that my back was to the tv, when I heard her shout in excitement. I ran downstairs to see what had happened and she said excitedly that she had gotten a picture of our grandfather standing behind her in one of her pictures. She let me get a quick glance at it, to me I can see how it would resemble him. It was a dark shadow tinted older man who appeared to be sickly. I wasn’t completely convinced but before I could argue about who it was she had taken off to show our grandmother. Before she made it to the room that our grandmother was in the camera had turned off. When she turned it back on, the picture was gone. 

That’s when things started becoming very strange. I’d begun feeling as though something was watching me. At all times of the day. It felt like there were eyes on me. The ouiji board was still under my bed at the time and it began to make me uneasy. I had dreams about it. My dreams had the ouiji board laid out flat at a table with me sitting on one side and my mysterious sickly shadow man on the other side. He never said anything until the last time I had the dream. I sat shivering on my side of the table and was screaming at him. I was terrified. I remember screaming, “Why are you watching me? What is your name? Are you my grandfather?” I remember he smiled and said nothing except a quick “Hello”, and I knew at that moment that it was not my grandfather but something more sinister. 

The next morning I threw away the ouiji board. I knew it wouldn’t help because of what I know about spirits and demons. A ouiji board is a welcoming map for spirits and demons into your home. Whatever it was, it was in my home and I had welcomed it. 

A year passed and I became used to feeling like I was watched. I would sit with my back to the tv and play on the computer and it would stare at me from the tv. I would turn around quickly expecting to see the shadow on the reflection. Or when I walked up the stairs. I felt like if I didn’t run up them, it would swoop down from the ceiling. At this point, I began to lose energy quickly. I was tired all the time. I didn’t sleep well, and when I did, I would wake up at all times of the night and feel like something was standing over me.  Every now and then in the middle of the night, I hear a knock on my door. I would get up and check but of course, everyone in the house would be asleep. 

Then  things began to be misplaced. Things would fall off of my shelves and my collection of dolls would be moved around and into different positions that I left them. I could sometimes hear something run up and down the stairs. The bathroom door close in the middle of the night. I started noticing handprints on the outside of my window even though I’m on the second floor. 

Soon, it all developed into what the doctor’s claim as  depression, insomnia, and an overactive imagination. They put me on medications. The anti-depressants didn’t work at all, but the sleeping medication caused me to experience sleep paralysis and have frequent nightmares. My nightmares ranged from small things to much much large things and are too many to recount. They could be attributed to side effects from the medication but, in almost every one of them, the sickly shadow man was in attendance. 

After a while of this I decided to stop taking all medications and refused to see the therapists. Even now I won’t take medications. I’m exhausted all the time and depressed. I feel like something is sapping my very essence out of me. I’m cold all the time. I don’t even bother to wipe the handprints off of my window anymore. 

Right now, I feel the air growing heavy. I can feel him by my tv staring at me. I’m cold and exhausted, and I can barely move my fingers.  I know something is going to happen tonight. I’ve upset him and can only imagine the torment I’ll go through tonight. 

FuckYeahNightmares Mod James: 8/10 I’m sorry, that sounds really scary.  Thanks for sharing!

MORE THAN JUST A SPARK

Request: N/A

A/N:  I said I would write this for one of @bucky-plums-barnes fuffly Friday anons asking for a Lance x Plussize!reader.  So… here ya go!  Hope you enjoy!

Lance x plussize!reader

Word count: 2056

Summary:  You’re pretty much over not being thin, you’re beautiful just the way you are!  But words can still hurt…

Warnings:  Lance being a dick, accidental bullying (body shaming), insults, mentions bullying, mentions of sex, drunkenness, FLUFFY APOLOGY AND ENDING

(GIF not mine)

Originally posted by mackievanstan

Keep reading

An Iron Grip- Chapter 1

I posted about having this Gajevy fic that’s been sitting in my computer for a few years and thanks to all the encouragement I’ve decided to finally start posting it- all in all its about 40 chapters long give or take a bit; I’m going to update about 3 times a week with a new chapter so you guys dont have to wait too long :) This is my first fic so i’d appreciate some constructive criticism <3

Pairing: Gajevy

Words: 3,045

Will update every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday :)

Summary: There is no magic. There is no wizards or dragons, that was all just make believe- or so Levy had been told. Her world is turned upside down when a dark guild comes after her, searching for a rare book, and everything she thinks she knows turns out to be wrong. Unwillingly thrust into a dark hidden underbelly of Magnolia city she must trust an unlikely band of misfits, a magic guild called Fairy Tail. Will Levy cave under the pressure or will she grow to be more than she every thought she would be and make some new friends along the way?

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. 

_______________________________________________________________________


         The world swirled around Levy, black and white flashing ever faster. She was falling and falling fast. There wasn’t even enough time for her to scream; the air was sucked out of her lungs as the air cut past her. The fall seemed like forever even though she was sure realistically it was only a few seconds. But everything slowed. She’d hit the ground soon, she was sure of that too. The ground was hard concrete, unforgiving and cold. And she was just so so small. She wouldn’t stand a chance in hell against it. Levy squeezed her eyes shut and let herself fall. There was nothing she could do but wait for the floor to meet her. This was it. This was how she was going to go- alone and weak. This was it.

   'I’m so sorry Gajeel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you’ she thought to herself.

   And then everything stopped.

Keep reading

The Firebird - Chapter 24

Step 24: Fever

Here it is - The last chapter of The Firebird. It’s been quite a ride, right?

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, reviewed, commented. You can’t even imagine how good it feels to see you liked the story, this journey Katniss started discovering herself.

Thank you for indulging me with 23 chapter of (very) slow-burn…

Thank you very very very very much to @xerxia31 for her time in betaing this chapter - i <3 the side notes :)

To @akai-echo, the lovely and beautiful, who created 24 aesthetics for this story - you are awesome :)

A tiny little epilogue will be published next week, on TUESDAY for Love in Panem “Love is…” challenge

here on AO3 // FFN

The whirlwind of the after show took her by surprise. She was used to waiting for the dancers in the lobby of the Arena, and not to the cries and shouts that took place down near the locker room. Dancers were congratulating her, and each other, everybody had a kind word. Katniss tried to locate her belongings that had been  thrown haphazardly when Delly made her try on dresses. She wanted to make a quick exit and find her way home, to take a shower - a very cold shower - and be able to release all the tension that dancing with Peeta had elicited in her.

She never thought dancing could be so hot - and not because of the stage lamps or the temperature of the room. No, hot like her skin had been set on fire by the simple touch of his fingers or a brush of his lips, so hot the A/C coming on left shivers and goosebumps in its wake. It was so different from ballet, where technique was almost everything, where all steps were coded, where improvisation was almost a swear word.

Keep reading

The Reason || Taehyung Tokyo Ghoul Au

{a/n}- Just like in my other stories, I give the main character a name, but really it’s just a nickname so I can connect with the story easier. It’s a [y/n] fic, but the characters called her Mae, so whenever you see Mae just picture that it says [y/n] instead if you want.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. With the rise in security around the city it’s too risky to eat right now. As if his anger towards humans wasn’t strong enough already, now to fuel its fire, they go and make survival even harder for his kind. His stomach ached from his hunger, which only got worse as he smelled the flesh of those who passed in front of him. 

It wasn’t long before he felt the urge to feed so badly that he had to hide his face between his knees to keep his eyes, that he knew had already changed, out of anyone’s sight. He didn’t know how he was going to make it out of this. If he got up and walked away, his eyes would reveal what he was and he would be killed. And if he just stayed sitting there, soon he would no longer be able to hold back his other side and he would lash out and eat, which would also cause him to be discovered and then killed. If he doesn’t find a third option very soon he would not live to see the next day.

Keep reading