anonymous asked:

everyone asks "where's griffin?" no one asks "how's griffin?"

it’s the sad reality we live in,, everyone is so obsessed with spotting a griffin for themselves that no one stopped to think how griffin is feeling about all of this

what if he doesn’t want to be seen? is he even happy being in these places?

But we don’t know,, because we never bothered to ask..

And the Hardest Part is Letting Go

// a/n: wow, hi everyone, it’s been a long time. i’m sorry i’ve been gone for so long, writing inspiration never stays for long enough for me to get things out and school doesn’t exactly help. but anyway, this isn’t a peter parker imagine like mine have been so far; sorry if that was what you were looking for! i decided to try writing for a fandom i’ve been in for a while but have never written for: voltron: legendary defender. anyway, i wrote this at 2 in the morning yesterday, so i hope you guys enjoy! (i’ll probably post a part 2 if you like it)

// pairings: mentioned keith x lance

// summary: And then he realized, startlingly, that the water here was the same color as the ocean of Varadero beach. It was almost like he was home, Lance thought, a bittersweet calm finally settling over him.


Lance supposed it was poetic, in a cruel sort of way.

Ever since he’d left Earth and become a paladin of Voltron, the thought of death hadn’t felt as far away as it once did. He was fighting against a galactic empire–one that had ruled the galaxy for centuries–and accidents happened. There were always casualties in war. The likelihood of dying was a reality as cold as the ice from his lion’s mouth, and Lance had slowly begun to accept this throughout his time as a paladin.

But he hadn’t imagined that it would happen like this.

This was supposed to be his element. The water. The calming blue of the sea billowing around him, the sound of waves that meant letting go of all his worries. Conjuring up memories of the ocean had always made him feel safe, at home, but now he was here, frigid water swallowing him whole as the weight shackled to his ankles pulled him further into the depths.

He was not going to die here.

He struggled. If nothing else, Lance fought, bubbles of precious air escaping his lips as he kicked against the chains around his feet until his legs ached, pulled against the bounds clamping his wrists together until his skin stung with the chaffing of metal and the salt from the sea. He struggled and struggled, and helplessness sunk into his chest; he had nothing, barely any armor, no bayard, no lion, none of his team to help him.

Shiro would find a way out, nagged a cold voice in the back of Lance’s mind. But Shiro was Shiro; Shiro was strong and brave and resourceful and powerful and he was everything Lance wanted to be and never would be. Lance was just…Lance, and he could not think of a way to get out of this.

He didn’t want to die here.

Not under the water, not alone. His comms had long since been destroyed, and there was no one, no one, just the empty sound of the water rushing into his ears and the soft beating of his own heart. Lance had thought–had hoped–that when he died, he would at least have someone there with him.

His team, his friends. His family. He didn’t want to die alone.

He wondered, distantly, if they’d ever find his body.

He wondered if they’d take it back to Earth. He hoped that they would, and that it might, at the very least, provide his family with some semblance of closure.

And then, it returned, like it always did when he thought of home–that crushing weight of guilt on his chest when he thought of how he’d abandoned his family, the sickening despair that came from being away from them for so long. He’d clung to the thought of seeing them again, but now, all he could do was picture their faces in his mind, imagine the sound of their voices. He wanted, more than anything, to be back home again, the warm smell of his mama’s cooking and her favorite vanilla scented candles filling the house as he and his siblings sipped lemonade on the porch and watched the water. The sweet, melodic sounds of his sister singing Hispanic tunes reverberating through the walls and how he used to join in, their voices making perfect harmony as they’d sing for the rest of their siblings or their cousins and neighbors and joy would light up the street.

Lance wondered if his sister still sang now.

They say that the first thing you forget about a person is their voice, but he would never forget theirs.

He wished, with all his heart, that he had been able to hear them one last time.

Instead, his body sunk further down into the blue.

It was cold, enough that his toes and fingers had lost feeling. It was so very cold that he thought that even if he did somehow make it out of this alive, the chill would never quite leave his bones. It had settled too far within him; his veins were like ice and his head…his head…

His head was light, and felt strangely empty–and in Keith’s voice, he heard a teasing jibe that it was not very strange at all, and he wanted to smile despite everything. There was pressure scraping the sides of his skull, clamping down hard, and his lungs felt constricted as pain sparked in front of his eyes. It hurt like hell to be holding his breath for so long.

He’d imagined drowning as peaceful. Easy.

Maybe it would be, if he would just let go.

But no, he couldn’t, for his family, for his team, for his friends, for…for Keith.

The thought almost surprised him. For Keith…he’d known, subconsciously, that the feelings towards him were far more than friendship, or even the schoolboy crush they had once been. Now he wanted, more than anything, to admit this aloud, to finally voice the thoughts he’d been grappling with for so long. But instead of the fiery heat that always came with thoughts of Keith, he now felt only emptiness in his chest.

Stupid, stupid Lance, he cursed himself mentally for spending so long on a pointless rivalry.

Now you’ll never get to tell him.

He wished…

But then, the time for wishing was long past. He would hold on for as long as he could, that much, he was sure of, but after that there would be nothing more.

He tried to picture some sort of light at the end of the tunnel, but all he could see was darkness. The crippling pressure surrounded him on all sides, pressing against his body and making everything yell in protest.

He wanted it to be over.

He closed his eyes and thought of home. He thought of the rain, the sky and the stars. The bright green of Pidge’s sweater, the soft teal glow from Blue’s control panel, Hunk’s orange bandana tails and his mother’s brown hair and Keith’s beautiful, beautiful purple eyes.

And then he realized, startlingly, that the water here was the same color as the ocean of Varadero beach. It was almost like he was home, Lance thought, a bittersweet calm settling over him.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst place to die after all.

Slowly, his body went numb.

The world faded.

And after that, he was only dimly aware of the garbled sounds of a gun firing over him, the tug of familiar arms around his waist, the weight leaving his ankles as warmth surrounded him.

Then he knew no more.


T H E Y ‘ R E   W E A R I N G  S I M I L A R  C O S T U M E S . (x) (x)

I can’t even right now give me a moment… 🖤


alright, here’s the sitch: i won’t acknowledge those hateful messages that i’ve gotten from that one anon. it’s only getting nastier and more sickening, and while i’m not personally offended by it, it’s sad and i feel sorry for them. what’s also sad is that, since i started here in 2011, i haven’t had to turn off anon off. not once. until now. in regards to the other anon that was respectful in approaching me, i’m not going to answer your other posts because i would like to speak with you privately ( but i am about to go to work in an hour or so, so please be patient with me if you do message me personally, for i will be busy and will get in trouble if i don’t get things done ). i also want to say that, right now, i am in the process of backtracking and sending everyone a message that has liked the kindness campaign post. i may miss a few people, but i’m giving this my all to go back through over 1k notes while also trying to live my life, as i’ve got a lot of responsibilities currently ( which is the biggest reason i’ve missed some of the people that have liked the post ). please forgive me, and please be patient with me while i make sure to spread all of the love i can. i am going to get so close to 100%, because that is what i said i’d do. if the people that have REBLOGGED the post can continue to help me in sending messages to those that have liked it, that would be wonderful! i’ll still be doing my best to send everyone messages that i can. i’ve hit ask limit 4 times today i think ?? i have currently hit it and can’t send anything right now, but i work at 11pm ( in less than 2 hours ), and need to rest some. i won’t be able to do much while at work, but a little after and throughout tomorrow ( as i can ) i will send more. i love you all so much, and i want to spread genuine love. you’re all wonderful and you all deserve the best. ♥

anonymous asked:

Do you take "REB" serious? Well I don't he might have said some racist shi. But in his entry he states he hates racism He said wished he was or wasn't a sociopath so he didn't have any remorse I wonder as what he considered himself...

Eric or “Reb” was much younger when he said he hated racism. It is known that when he was a child, he was good friends with POC but that doesn’t mean his beliefs couldn’t’ve changed. I personally believe he was just misanthropic, i.e. hated mankind, but I wouldn’t argue with anyone who decided to call him a racist.

And he did say he wished he was a sociopath so he didn’t have any remorse. Which is interesting and important because by saying that Eric acknowledges he’s remorseful and sorry about what he’s going to do. I don’t see how anyone could call him a sociopath/psychopath after that because a sociopath wouldn’t even bother to acknowledge their lack of empathy because it simply doesn’t bother them.

Reb was an alter ego, he was everything Eric wasn’t but wanted to be. I don’t really take alter egos seriously because very rarely do they reflect what a person actually feels and is. And when Eric was Eric, he was just a vulnerable, weak, wimpy kid who hated everything about himself but was unable to change anything about himself or the situation he was stuck in.

styxetal  asked:


Sorry Clair what was that? A request for healthy and fluffy Jamilton? Sorry, too busy working on another angsty request right now bye-

queenii-llama  asked:

Bab e, what about Kevin and Abby bonding? 🙊🙊💜

Haha remember when I said this would take me a couple of days and then that turned into weeks and here we are on the cusp of it turning into months i appear out of my cave to throw this garbage at you. Forgive me my dear I really wanted this to be great because Kevin means so much to me and Abby means so much to him.
To do this prompt justice we have to start at the beginning

Kevin Day arrives in palmetto broken, betrayed, and beaten down to a sliver of his former glory. The sweet, fierce boy we love is buried so deep in this wounded Raven he doesn’t even see the love and acceptance that wait in Dr. Abigail Winfield’s eyes, face, and hands as she examines him. He sees Coach Wymacks suspicion of treachery, grief for a woman long gone, and anger for a child abused and abandoned.
And it’s a lot to take in.
Kevin weathers the storm in Wymacks eyes off pure involuntary reflexes and his survival instincts, but only just barely.
The Masters voice beats against his mind “when I am speaking you look at me. When I am silent you look at me. When I am present your attention will be on me.”
But then when he’s sure he’ll break under Wymacks furious interrogation about things he’s won’t, can’t, talk about yet, a soft voice reverberates across the tension.
“David. He’s bruised and his hand is severely broken but he’s physically okay.”
Wymack stopped mid question and looked at her. Kevin followed his gaze slowly, he felt as if he was moving through molasses. His thoughts were slow but his actions were slower for some reason. He thought it was exhaustion catching up to him after everything that had happened in the past two days but he’d later realize what was actually happening.
He was in shock and Abby had seen that before Wymack had. He would later remember the slight stress she put on the word “physically” and that Wymack had understood what she wasn’t saying and backed off.
The master would’ve never done that. None of the ravens would. Jean would have talked Kevin through his issues in private but publicly he would act like any other raven and ignore Kevin.
One day in palmetto and Dr. Abigail Winfield had already taken Kevin Day under her wing and Kevin had already decided he could trust the kindness he found in her.

The day that the foxes were asked what they thought about The Kevin Day becoming their assistant coach was the second time Kevin’s world had slowed to molasses and Abby had been there to save him. It’d felt like a terrible weight was pressing down on his chest he was sure his lungs would collapse any minute as they argued about his pro’s and con’s as if he was an object to be traded. As if he was not a scared broken boy needed a place to heal and grow. The foxes weren’t just debating they were fighting, well those of them who weren’t obviously under the influence of something Kevin never wanted to see. The absurdity of a team fighting both verbally and physically on top of the objectification Kevin had to endure was almost too much, but again a calm, kind voice cut across the crowd.
“Now that is enough. I want you all to be silent and listen to me please. This young man has come to us seeking sanctuary and you all start fighting over him like he’s anything other than a good exy player looking for a second chance and a new beginning just like every single one of you in this room. I understand the danger you’re all facing, but would you be my foxes if there wasn’t an element of danger?” She’d started angry but finished with a fond grin as she looked each in their eyes and put her arm around Kevin.
Abigail Winfield unabashedly loves her foxes and would use her last breath to defend their honor.
And to Kevin Day, who’d only know the blunt side of a cane and the sharp edges of knuckles, who’s only memories of love and kindness are old and fading with each passing day, Abby was the brilliant shining sun on his dark horizon.

anonymous asked:

Do you think taylor was upset when she realized that all of the kaylors are good in debunking her stunts or atleast stressed out?

She was pissed during Tayvin, yes, bc she had to NoHomo at a high level, and the stunts weren’t elaborate enough (sorry, but true), from what OG Sherlocks & other OG Kaylors explained to me, especially during summer 2015: the London boat incident & a few other things that happened during that summer, that took then 30 minutes to debunk…

But what is strange to me is that if she had really wanted the stunts to be undebunkable at the time, she could have…

That’s why i think that even if she was pissed, still a part of her was smirking about Kaylors debunking every stunt, bc she knew it wouldn’t reach mass Media anyway, but that it’d stay within her fanbase…


9:10am york highschool

shari: honey!
honey: shar-
shari: i’m done fighting! honey. i’m sorry you heard what i w-was saying, but i can’t fight with you anymore you’re my bestfriend, and i need you. expressly now.
honey: oh shari. no its okay everything you said was true. i’m so sorry for how i acted. for going out on you for things you had nothing to do with. but what do you mean by expressly now? what happened? wheres zara?
you and zara.. did something happen?
shari: w-we broke up. she broke up with me, she said i was different that i wasn’t the same girl she fell in love with. which is entirely true! i’ve acted so fucking butt hurt. a-and i don’t think she loves me anymore.. i feel like she tried to be happy but she- but she (sigh) wasn’t. (wipes a tear)
honey: i can’t believe this! you two were perfect. but its okay it really is. um. you have me now. okay?
shari: okay-
ms.hawk: you two.. who do you think you are? just skipping class like your so different than the rest of the students?

It’s ok you guys feel free to come to me, I’m sorry to hear that, what you can do is try to show them how great Korean is and why you’re passionate about it, and learning another language is always useful / helpful in some ways, I myself have been studying Korean and Japanese. Anyways if they don’t want to support you it’s sad yes but keep doing what makes you happy. Our genius boy Min Yoongi didn’t have the full support of his dad, his dad even threw away his book he wrote songs in at one time and he never gave up and now he has his dad full support, so keep doing what you love even if others don’t support or like it. One day they just might. I really hope they do, I support you ☺ if you need any help I’ll try to help in anyway possible 👍 all the best honey

anonymous asked:

46. Borrower Au Please and thank you

46. “I thought you were dead!”

Send me a number and characters and I’ll write a drabble!

               “So, this is how I got here,” Stan said, showing Fiddleford an entrance to a small tunnel in the wall near the microwave.  “Follow me, and I’ll take ya to your family.”

               “I want Stanford to come with,” Fiddleford said abruptly.  Stan sighed.  

               “He can’t come, he’s too big.”

               “Yeah!” Daisy chimed in.  

               “Are you sure, Fiddleford?” Stanford asked.  Fiddleford nodded.  “I’m honored.”

               “Yeah, well, you can’t come, Sixer.  Unless you’ve got a shrink ray or- you have a shrink ray, don’t you?” Stan said.  Ford grinned. “Fantastic,” Stan muttered.  

               A few minutes later, Fiddleford helped Ford get to his feet on the counter. Ford looked around in interest. Daisy frowned at him.

               “Who are you?” she asked boldly.  Ford smiled nervously.

               “I’m your uncle.”


               “I- what?”

               “You’re big, not a Borrower.  Can’t be uncle,” Daisy said.  

               “Not big now,” Danny said quietly.  

               “That is correct, I am your size at the moment,” Ford said.  “And anyways, your father isn’t a Borrower either.  At least, he wasn’t born one.”

               “Like I said, stuff happens sometimes,” Stan said.  Ford scowled.

               “I want a proper explanation, Stanley.”

               “It can wait, Stanford,” Fiddleford said.  “I- I really want to see my fam’ly again.”

               “Yeah, come on, I’ll show ya the way,” Stan said.  He grabbed Danny and Daisy’s hands.  “Remember, girls, stick close.”

               “Yes, daddy,” Danny and Daisy said together.  Stan stepped into the tunnel and set off.  Fiddleford and Ford followed.  Ford cleared his throat.

               “So, Stanley, you have two daughters?”

               “Yep,” Stan replied.  “Danny and Daisy.  Twins.”

               “How old are they?”

               “Three!” Daisy cheered.  Stan nodded.

               “That’s right, Daisy.  You’re three years old.”

               “When- when did this happen?”

               “When did I become a father?  Three years ago, Ford.  Pay attention.”

               “I think he was referrin’ to ya gettin’ in a relationship what led to the girls comin’ into the world,” Fiddleford suggested.  “I’m curious ‘bout that myself.  I want to know what my fam’ly’s been up to.”

               “About seven years ago, Angie and I met.  Started datin’ a year later, got married two years after that.”  Ford frowned, mentally laying out the timeline.

               “Wait, did you even get married before the girls…came about?” Ford asked.

               “Barely,” Stan muttered.  Fiddleford’s jaw dropped.  

               “Was Banjey pregnant when ya got married?”

               “No.  That happened a couple weeks into the marriage.  Look, Fiddleford, Stanford, can we not talk about this in front of my kids?”

               “Yeah!” Danny said aggressively.  She wrinkled her nose.  “It’s weird.”

               “All right, we’ll stop talkin’ ‘bout it,” Fiddleford said.  Ford looked at his friend.  Fiddleford’s hands were shaking.

               “Are you all right?” Ford asked quietly.  Fiddleford nodded.

               “Yes, just a bit nervous, is all.  It’s been so long since I’ve seen ‘em.  I- I must’ve missed so much.  I mean, my baby sister’s got her own babies.”

               “It will be fine, Fiddleford,” Ford said.  Fiddleford smiled weakly.  They came to a fork in the tunnel.

               “Which way do we go next, girls?” Stan asked his daughters.  Danny and Daisy frowned thoughtfully.  

               “Do you not remember the way?” Ford asked, crossing his arms.  Stan rolled his eyes.

               “Duh.  I’m just teachin’ ‘em how to find their way ‘round this place.  Gotta start ‘em young.”

               “That way!” Danny said, pointing to the part of the tunnel that split off to the left.

               “Good work, princess.  We’re almost home,” Stan said, ruffling Danny’s hair.  Danny giggled.  Fiddleford’s nervous smile became more genuine.

               “Goodness, they both have Banjey’s sweet lil laugh, don’t they?”

               “Yeah,” Stan said.  “They’ve got her laugh, her smile, her good looks-”

               “Mama says we’re cute ‘cause you,” Danny interrupted.  Stan chuckled.  

               “Okay, truce.  You two are cute ‘cause of both of us.”

               “Remarkable,” Ford muttered, shaking his head.  Stan looked back at Ford.

               “What?  How cute my kids are?”

               “How good a parent you are,” Ford said.  Stan’s relaxed expression was wiped away by a sour glare.

               “Gee, thanks, Sixer,” Stan grumbled, looking away.  After about five minutes of uneasy silence, the small group arrived at a door.  “Go on in, girls,” Stan said, nudging them.  Daisy darted forward and opened the door, then ducked inside, closely followed by her twin.

               “Speak of the devil!  There ya are, sweetlings!” a voice said.  Fiddleford’s eyes widened.

               “Lute,” Fiddleford whispered.  

               “I told ya.  Everyone’s here,” Stan said.  He walked inside.  Fiddleford and Ford hovered awkwardly at the doorway.  

               “It’s ‘bout time ya got here!” Lute scolded.  “We were about to send someone out to find y’all!”  

               “Nope, we’re back,” Stan said.  “But speakin’ of findin’ people…”  He looked back at the door and gestured for Fiddleford and Ford to come in. Fiddleford hesitantly walked in. Lute gasped.


               “Howdy, lil brother,” Fiddleford said weakly.  

               “Holy- you- how-” Lute stammered.

               “It’s a long story,” Fiddleford said.  Lute ran his hands through his hair.  

               “I’ll bet it is.  Danny, Daisy, go get yer relatives, okay?  Tell ‘em Fidds is home.”  The girls nodded and ran off, almost colliding with someone entering the room.

               “There’s my babies,” the female Borrower cooed, scooping Danny up before she could escape.  “Did yer daddy take ya on an adventure?”

               “Mama, we have job to do,” Danny protested, squirming in her mother’s arms.

               “Oh?  And what job would that be?”

               “Lute wanted to send ‘em off to spread news that I’m back, Banjey,” Fiddleford said.  “Or, I guess yer goin’ by ‘Angie’ now.”  Angie’s head jerked up.  She stared at Fiddleford.

               “Fidds?” she whispered.   Fiddleford nodded.  Danny managed to successfully wriggle free of Angie’s grasp; she darted out of the room. “Fidds!”  Angie rushed forward, tackling her older brother in an intense hug. “I- I thought you were dead!”

               “We all did,” Lute said, joining in on the hug.  Fiddleford let out a small sob.

               “My baby siblin’s.  I’m so sorry I was gone fer so long.”

               “Well, we ain’t lettin’ ya get loose again,” Lute said firmly.

               “Yup.  You just got to stay here, in this hug, forever,” Angie said.  Fiddleford chuckled weakly.

               “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Fiddleford said. Angie and Lute broke off the hug. “Oh, look at the two of ya.  All grown up,” Fiddleford whispered.  “Last time I saw ya, neither of ya were even seventeen.  Now yer real adults, with- with significant others and kidlets.”

               “Not me,” Lute said proudly.  Angie rolled her eyes.

               “Yeah, Lute’s perfectly comfortable bein’ the fun uncle.  All the enjoyable parts of children bein’ ‘round, none of the responsibility.”


               “Even for a Borrower, your wife is small, Stanley,” Ford said idly. Angie and Lute whipped their heads around to stare at Ford.  “Oh. Hello.”

               “Who are you?” Lute asked.

               “I’m Fiddleford’s associate, Stanford Pines.”

               “He helped me get here,” Fiddleford added.  

               “Ya found another Borrower, wherever it was ya ended up at?” Angie asked.

               “I’m not a Borrower,” Ford said.  Angie and Lute groaned.

               “Not this again.”

               “Hey, I wasn’t lyin’!” Stan protested.  Ford frowned at Stan.  “When I first showed up at the McGuckets’ place, they thought I was lyin’ or crazy, since I said I was human, not a Borrower,” Stan explained.  “I thought they believed me by now.”

               “We do,” Angie said.  Lute made a “so-so” gesture with his hand.  “It’s just pretty stretched odds, fer there to be two humans what are Borrower-sized.”

               “I used a shrink ray,” Ford said.  

               “So you weren’t enchanted like Stan was?” Lute asked.  Ford blinked.

               “I wasn’t enchanted, no.  Stan, you were enchanted?”



               “By the way, before one of the girls brings it up, turns out that the human that helped Fiddleford out is my twin brother,” Stan said.  Angie rubbed her face, exasperated.  Lute frowned.

               “How does somethin’ like that even happen?” Lute asked.  Stan shrugged.

               “Beats me.”

               “If you want, we can explain how we found you,” Ford said.

               “I meant, like, in the grand scheme of things,” Lute said.  “It’s…mighty odd.”

               “All of this is odd,” Stan said. Ford nodded.

               “For once, I have to agree.”