almost half of them are gone

Reveal idea:

So for about a month or so, Adrien has been asking his father for discarded textiles, just left overs or rejects in his fathers office after a design session.

He takes things like half used spools of thread, almost empty flasks of pearly buttons, a rejected roll of crocheted lace.

His father has no idea where Adrien is squirrelling them away to, but he’s actually okay with Adrien developing an interest in design and manufacture of clothing.

Gabe finds out from Nathalie that Adrien’s class is doing a project on manufacturing or something, and that parents are invited to look at the presentations. Gabe thinks ‘ah-ha!’ and has Nathalie open up his schedule this one time. 

This is when he attends he realises where all his rejected clothing supplies have gone. The young lady who won his bowler hat contest is doing a project on textile manufacture. From the scraps she assembled a blazer, the outside is carefully arranged crocheted lace, the lining is soft pink satin (off cuts from an evening gown if he remembers correctly). 

Her project covers how each type of fabric is manufactured, how they are coloured, stitched, knitted and pieced together to create a final product.

He understands, he thinks, his son has spent a month gathering treasures for this girl like a bower bird collecting blue bottle caps. So Gabe attempts to put a good word in for Adrien. So he tells Marinette about how Adrien has been putting a lot of effort into selecting the materials for her.

“Adrien did?” she asks, visibly surprised. “Is that true?” she cranes her neck at someone behind Gabe.

Gabe turns to find Adrien behind him, face pale, mouth gaping.

Oh… “Son, did you perhaps deliver those items anonymously?”

“Uh something like that…?”

Cue Gabe excusing Adrien and himself so he can apologise to his son for throwing off his game. 

Preference: What They Secretly Love That You Do.

Darry:

Darry loves when you’ll play with his hair. When you two are in front of the gang it’ll just be you lightly playing with the hairs at the back of his neck but when you two are alone or simply just in front of his brothers you’ll run your fingers through his hair and just move them gently. He’ll complain at first but it’s half hearted because it really does calm him down.

It was almost midnight on a Saturday Ponyboy and Sodapop had just gone off to bed but you and Darry were still sitting on the couch, to comfy to move. Your legs were over Darry’s lap and your body was pressed against his. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back against the back of the couch but your eyes stayed open as you watched him. You moved your arm up slowly so you could begin running your fingers absently through your boyfriends hair. You saw the faint glimmer of a smile cross Darry’s lips as you did so and you watched his worries slowly relax off of him.

Sodapop:
Sodapop loves when you drag him along to see ‘girly movies’. He’ll complain about the whole way to the theater but the second you’re watching it he gets almost more into it than you do.

You were sitting at the drive-in theater with Sodapop’s arm around you as you waited for the movie to start. They were doing a special showing of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ and you had been excited all week since you convinced Sodapop to take you. Now that you were there sitting and waiting he was sulking to himself.

“This is stupid. Can’t we just go back to my house and see what’s on? Or we could go to the regular theater in town. I think there was a movie there that you would like.”

You turn and give him a look. “Stop pouting and just enjoy the movie okay?”

Sodapop just sighed and put his arm around you. The movie soon started up and Sodapop was immediately captivated. He was so into the movie that he wouldn’t even turn his head away from the screen at your many attempts to kiss him. When the movie finally came to the end you couldn’t help but laugh as Soda looked over at you.

“Don’t you dare tell the others about this.”

“Yes, m’am.” You laughed causing him to nudge you playfully before leaning in to finally give you a kiss.

Ponyboy:
Ponyboy loves when you take his sweatshirt. He’ll whine that now he’ll be cold now but he really doesn’t care. He just loves being able to look over at you with his hoodie on.

You were all sitting at the drive in seats. The movie was about halfway through and you couldn’t stop shivering. Your head was resting on Ponyboy’s shoulder and you looked up at him. “I’m cold.”

“You knew we were coming here. You should brought a jacket.” He said and you continued to stare at him so he sighed and sat up so he could take off his sweatshirt and give it to you. You put it on with a grin and leaned back into his arms.

“Jeez, Y/N, now I’m freezing.” he groaned and so you leaned up to kiss his cheek before turning back to the screen. Once you were looking away he looked down at you and smiled.

Two-Bit:
Two-Bit loves when you’ll get him to dance with you. Sometimes you do it seriously and try to get him to slow dance, other times you’re just messing around to whatever comes on the radio but he loves using you as his excuse to get up and dance to his favorite songs.

Two-Bit and you were sitting on the back of his car, the radio could be heard faintly through the cars open windows. The two of you had been silent, holding hands and just drinking some beer when a song you recognized came on. You smiled softly and looked up at him before standing and tugging his hand.

“Dance with me.” You said.

“Come on, baby, I don’t dance.” He replied and didn’t budge.

“Please,” You begged gently with another small tug at his arm and he relented easily and stood. You pulled Two-Bit close to you and made him sway back and forth with you. He complied until the song started coming to an end and he began lifting you off the ground spinning you, causing you to erupt in a fit of laughter. After he put you down again you persuaded him to dance for a couple more songs.

Dally:
Dally loves when you take his hand to hold. He never went to take it on his own as it would look more his style to have an arm around your shoulders but he did love when you would take his hand in your own. He loved the feeling and though he would never outright admit it you always knew by the way he would squeeze your hand lightly every once in a while or kiss your knuckles when the gang wasn’t looking.

Dally and you were trailing behind the rest of the group as you all walked down the sidewalk into town. He had just lit a cigarette and once one of his hands was free you carefully thread your fingers together and he squeezed your hand gently. Once you all had arrived at where you were going you moved to pull your hand away so his friends wouldn’t tease him but as you did his hold tightened and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you felt his them gently moving to stroke your hand. Two-Bit went to say something but with a glare from Dally he shut his mouth quickly. He didn’t let go of your hand once for the rest of the night.

Steve:
Steve loves when you take care of him after a fight or a rumble. He does love to show off his injuries like they were trophies but while he would never admit it to you there was something nice about you fussing over him and making sure he wasn’t hurt to bad.

Steve was laying on the couch at the Curtis house as you gently held a cloth to his bleeding lip. You sighed in frustration however at the fact that he kept talking.
“What are you doing that for, Y/N. Let it be I want people to see how tough I am.” He grinned and you just shook your head.

“Steve, don’t be so stubborn and let me help you. I hate it enough when you go out and fight the least you can do is let me make sure you’re all right after.” You frown.

“Alright fine,” he said begrudgingly. “But only for you, babe.”

You nod and press the cloth to his lip again and his eyes close. You place your free hand on his cheek to stroke it comfortingly and you can’t help bit feel happy as you see him lean into the touch.

Johnny:
Johnny loves when you get all clingy on him. Whether it’s in private and you have his arms wrapped around his neck as you lay as close as possible or whether it’s in front of the gang sitting on his lap with your head resting on his shoulder Johnny lives for these moments.

You were asleep in your room when you heard someone come through the window. You weren’t to worried as you knew it was your boyfriend Johnny. You always left it open a crack for him. Johnny carefully crawled into bed beside you and immediately your arms wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist to hold him close. As he spoke you pressed a few gentle kisses to his jawline and down his neck.

“Hey, love..” he whispered softly and you just hugged him tighter. You felt his hand run gently up and down your back and soon you felt Johnny relaxing into your embrace.

Electing Trump Has Put Nostalgic ‘American Dream’ Further Out Of Reach

“About 92 percent of 1940 babies had higher pretax household earnings at age 30 than their parents had at the same age…. For babies born in 1980 — today’s 36-year-olds — the index of the American dream has fallen to 50 percent: Only half of them make as much money as their parents did…. The American economy is far larger and more productive than in 1980…. Per-capita G.D.P. is almost twice as high now. 

By itself, that increase should allow most children to live better than their parents. They don’t, however, because the fruits of growth have gone disproportionately to the affluent…. 

The painful irony of 2016 is that nostalgia and anger over the fading American dream helped elect a president who may put the dream even further out of reach for many people — taking away their health insurance, supporting ineffective school vouchers and showering government largess on the rich.”

 - David Leonhardt of the New York Times

The Maiden And The Giant

TITLE: The Maiden And The Giant

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6

AUTHOR: MaliceManaged

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine falling through a portal into Jötunheim and running into a stranger named Loki, who decides to provide shelter out of the need for company, that eventually turns into love.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Here, have some fluff and awkwardness. I need sleep.

_____

    By the time Byleistr and Helblindi said their goodbyes the next day; Kat was almost as disappointed to see them go as Loki was. They promised not to let so much time pass before their next visit and then were gone, leaving Loki and Kat to plan out how to fill their day.

    “I knew they would like you,” Loki commented as he stood before a crack in the outer wall that surrounded his home, meant to keep unwanted creatures out, mending it with his seidr.

    “Only because you do,” Kat scoffed half-jokingly from where she sat on a tall outcropping of rock nearby keeping a lookout, her legs slowly swinging back and forth.

Keep reading

Fuck my dorm. Seriously.

Well… I just found out tonight that despite my attempts to keep my sexuality hidden from most of my college dorm, one girl I did out myself to told everyone early in the year, let it become huge gossip, and almost nobody told me, not even my close friends, that they knew until just now. I feel so betrayed and honestly for the first time in my life I’m angry at straight cisgender people in general. Letting me think I had kept it hidden while talking about it and even saying homophobic shit behind my back? I just feel like almost nobody there actually respected me since that’s not fucking ok. Plus some of them knew my high school mean girls bollocks left me scarred by being the topic of gossip and still nobody, not even my friends, shut it down. That’s half the friends I made in my first year of college gone because I just can’t forgive that. I’m feeling betrayed, furious, miserable, and bitter and I don’t know what to do. And what if that was the reason some of them pulled away from me after May?

A Wizard’s Misgivings: Chapter 4

summary: Dan Howell’s entire family has been in Slytherin, and there’s no doubt he’d supposed to end up there too. Phil Lester does’t exactly know what to do when he finds himself liking boys, so he’s usually just horrendously mean to them. 

tw: ahh fighting, almost getting pushed off a tower ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

word count: 5.8k (for someone who couldn’t get motivated to write this chapter for a week and a half, can i get a WOAH?)

link to masterlist and link to next chapter 

Keep reading

2

16-17.03.2017 / Days 11&12 of the #gradblrchallenge

My boss said I could work from home on Thursday, but since I was ahead on my planning, I spent the afternoon shopping for school supplies and work clothes. I guess it counts, right? This bottle and this top are some of the new items and I’ll definitely show more of them soon.

Today I taught five classes and then spent an hour on the bus, standing, so I’m super tired.

I just realized almost half of the challenge is gone and I didn’t do anything for my thesis. I’ll try to start tomorrow.

Have a fantastic weekend!

Divine Secret (closed)

A sigh escaped from his lips as he shut the door not realizing it there was a small crack where light could peer through the it. Sting had just returned from his other hidden objective of striking fear into a group of thugs that were hurting the innocent. With his intimidating presence, he nearly burned their retinas out of their skulls as well as caused some more heavy damage. He struck fear as was his task to do so. From being out for almost half the night, he needed to get back before anyone would notice he was gone.

 Rolling his shoulders back, the room shook when he unveiled his wings in a blast of divine light and stretched them out from wall to wall. So intense his power was night had turned into day and was worse then starring into the sun. Slowly it diminished, his wings folding back, white bursts of roaring energy fading until there was only a bright glow with the figure of blonde hair and a stern expression upon blue celestial hues.

@raioseucliffe-cheney

another Les Amis hogwarts AU headcanon:

so, the friends don’t actually become a named, organized group until, at least, their fifth year - because let’s face it, they’re already rowdy as adults, as kids and teenagers they’re worse - but they all hang out and study together throughout their entire time at Hogwarts.

and they’re all in different houses, but most of the time (after half of them are nearly banned from the library because of a charmed hat experiement gone wrong) they meet up in the Hufflepuff common room. After all, it’s the house where there are the most members (Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Grantaire and Marius) - and after a while, the others have almost become honorary Hufflepuffs. If they fall asleep on the common room’s couches and spend the night there at least once a week, well, none of the other students or the prefects really mind. Combeferre, Prouvaire and Feuilly help the younger students with their homework, half of them have a crush on Enjolras, and everyone likes Bahorel and Joly. 

It’s just so warm and cozy, and it’s close to the kitchen. To be honest, it really was the logical choice.

(Feuilly was reading The Hobbit when he got his Hogwarts letter at the orphange, and it’s been one of his favourite book ever since. When he first walked into the Hufflepuff common room on Courfeyrac’s invitation, he was almost as starstruck as he was when he saw the enchanted ceiling, or the library - it looked just like a Hobbit hole, and he was almost dissapointed he wouldn’t get to spend his school years there)

anonymous asked:

Hi kitty 💕help do u have tips on how to get rid of a uti ??

Azo pills from the drugstore! I get uti symptoms so often that I always keep these with me or in my house. And drink tons of water and liquids. Keep a bottle of cranberry juice in your fridge and drink this too. When I feel one coming on I’ll take two azo pills and chug water until I have a stomach ache then take a nap and it’s usually gone by the time I wake up. If it doesn’t go away within a couple days you should probably see a doctor to give you some antibiotics that will get rid of it for good. For me personally I get uti symptoms so much that I can’t go to the doctor for medicine all the time or I’d be on antibiotics almost half my life… it’s just not practical so I’ve had to learn how to kick them at home.

Supergirl bows, letting the honey-blond locks of her hair fall over her shoulder, tumbling over her chest in a way that’d beat the golden spiral’s perfection. She looks up at Lena, eyes half lidded, irises so bright, almost luminescent in that way that makes them glow. She bends down, captures Lena’s hand in her own and presses a gentle kiss on the grove between her pointer and middle fingers knuckles. Lipstick stains against the porcelain white of Lena’s skin.

And then she’s gone, just like that. Leaving Lena’s hand in the air, still warm from where they made contact, still red with lipstick that’s the only evidence Supergirl was even there in the first place.

The next morning is hell. She didn’t wipe the lipstick off last night, and now it’s stained her bed sheets, left her longing for a different event that would have Supergirl’s lipstick on her Pillowcase, left her wishing for a different reason why Supergirl’s mark was on her bed.

It looks like a bruise on her knuckle now, just another mark of pain so she washes it off angrily enough to give her a real one. One in the shape of Supergirl’s lips. Blooming, dark, slightly red from being aggravated by the rough manner by which she took the mark on her skin off in the first place.

She goes to work with gloves on, thin enough not to cause any suspicion, but dark enough to cover the mark. It just about works when Kara Danvers strolls into her office, much too comfortable with the Carte Blanche she’s been given.

“Lena,” Kara says as greeting, holding too cups of coffee in her hands. She gives one to Lena, casually, almost naturally. Like this was an every day occurrence.

Lena feels a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “How is my favourite reporter doing these days?” She asks, because it’s been too long since she’s heard from Kara.

“I’m still good. Same as when you asked last night.” Kara responds, smile as bright as ever and yes, it has only been a day, but it feels like it’s been forever.

Lena takes a sip from the coffee, feeling the burn of heat equal to that of desire, she smirks at the taste, black, dark as a starless night. “It feels as though it’s been too long.” She states.

“I agree.” Kara says then, getting that twinkle in her eyes that reminds Lena of the Cheshire Cat. She takes a sip of her coffee, /a caramel macchiato/, Lena recalls Kara’s order as easily as her own.

“Of course you do, I am a pleasure.” Lena says, faux arrogance falling into place.

“You are.” Kara hums before placing her lips against the coffee cup’s edge, taking the drink in a long, slow gulp that has the muscles on her neck flexing as she swallows. She pulls away after a second, and Lena catches a glimpse of lipstick on the styrofoam.

Lipstick that is familiar.

The realisation falls onto her like a tidal wave. Crashing, pulling, pushing, taking everything she thought she knew about Kara Danvers and wiping it clear as a blank slate, freshly fallen, undisturbed snow.

She looks at Kara in a new light because she’s always thought of Kara as her king, the most important piece in the game, the only one she needs to protect because if she lost Kara now, her life would fall apart. She always thought of herself as the queen, the one player that’d do anything to protect the king, the one that could do everything. Always thought of Supergirl as the white knight because she’s foolishly Heroic and would step infront of anyone to catch a bullet. But it’s different now and she realizes that /fuck/ Supergirl is Kara and they’re the entire board, she’s playing against herself.

But she keeps quiet, the revelation falling muted, all she does is shake her head and laugh because /damn/

All this because of lipstick?

Hermione hits her thirty mark and celebrates it with her closest friends. They talk about the war, so far off in the past that they can make jokes about it and, in a way, it helps. They don’t talk about the dead or the regrets or the body count, the horrors. Just jokes, half truths to cover the cuts that won’t heal.

There are lines you don’t cross, things they don’t mention. They retell stories of Neville’s bravery, Harry’s duel with Voldemort, and somehow new stories appear every year they are together. Its good, Hermione thinks, because it means that the wounds have healed enough that the owner may speak about what has hurt them.


Its no surprise this wound would heal too almost a decade.

It’s late, the candles dim and most have retired home. Ron’s gone back to his shop and Harry to Grimauld’s place, Luna to where ever she is staying now. It’s just her and Fleur, cleaning her apartment and enchanting the dishes to put themselves away, laughing at a picture Hermione had hung on the wall.

It’s the Trio and Fleur and Bill—all in front of Shell Cottage. They made a visit shortly after the war ended, to greet and celebrate (and mourn). Fleur’s laughing at the way the salty air had caused Hermione’s curls to flatten, enough so that she looked to be a different girl.

“Did you know,” Fleur said, glass of wine in hand, “that I was jealous of your hair?”

Hermione snorted, disbelieving her ears. “I beg your pardon?” she said, wiping the counter and tossing Fleur a dishcloth. “You? Jealous? Of this?”

Fleur rolled her eyes, an act Hermione once found offending. Now she paid little mind to the way the French woman exaggerates every expression. If Hermione noticed anything about Fleur, it was because Fleur wanted her to. Devilish, that one, Hermione thinks.

Fleur weaved her hand through her hair. “You see this? Straight. No matter what.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. Her ego flared, a little ball if pride swelled in her chest. Still, she paid enough mind to return Fleur’s complement. “Did you know I was jealous of you too—the Veela charm, being asked to the Yule Ball, all that attention.”

Fleur was quiet, moving dishes about and pouring leftover soup into a container, so Hermione continued. “Girls like me, the most attention I got from school was when I raised my hand. Reckon thats why I did so well, it was the one thing I was good at.”

“Did you know….” Fleur paused for a moment, something she did quite often when she could not find the right words in English. “Did you know that you are amazing at many things?”

“Now? Yes.” Hermione swallowed, “before? No”

This was a first, a first time admittance.

“Did you know I thought you right pretty?” Fleur waggled her eyebrows, and the Veela glow around her intensified. “Even before the transformation during the Ball?”

Were they playing a game? A game of complements?

“Did you know that I thought you a stubborn arse but a bloody good healer?”

“Did you know the sky’s blue?” Fleur asked deftly, smiling confidently. Of course she knew she was a good healer.

And then, it just came out. “Did you know I was in love with you?”

It’s so easy talking about it now. It’s been years, Hermione has put years between her feelings for Fleur. It still hurt, only just a slight sting now.

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, still roaming about the kitchen and continuing the clean up as Fleur stilled. “Really—I think I was a bit of a loon. You were Bill’s wife and I was injured and you took care of me. For a little while there, I was very jealous of Bill.” Once the words started, she couldn’t stop. “I’m telling you this now because, obviously, I don’t feel lime that anymore. Still, I liked you very much for a little while.”


Hermione bent down to grab a rouge crumb and when she looked up, Fleur was looming over her, face soft but serious. Hermione smiled reassuringly. “I figured you should know, now. That was a long time ago. You’ve been a great friend,” Fleur’s face wasn’t changing and this caused Hermione to panic. “Look, I’m sorry, i overstepped, I take it back…”

Fleur shook her head. “It’s alright,” she says in one breath. “I was shocked, but it’s flattering. You’re rather reserved with your heart, and for the right reasons, so I am honored.”

“It could have been infatuation,” Hermione shrugged even though her past self would have snickered at the gross inaccuracy. “Besides, you and Bill are a fit. The children are well, yes? I’m glad I let it past.”

Then, a look crossed Fleur’s face, one that Hermione couldn’t put a finger on until Fleur would later leave that night. It was such a human emotion, so raw and unfiltered that it didn’t quite fit on Fleur’s unnaturally pretty face. Regret.

“The children are very well,” Fleur said, redirecting the conversation. They never mention this again, and Fleur stopped coming by as often, although when she does they take long walks together or sleep on the beach, a woman’s day off as Fleur had declared it once. And once in a while on those long stretches of time alone with Fleur, she’d catch Fleur looking at her with that look, that regret, and it makes her stomach turn.

I’d have thought I’d be nervous, up on the roof with Sherlock in the middle of the night. It’s different somehow, when we’re together. Doesn’t feel scary. We climbed out on the roof of 221 Baker Street with a rug to lie on and a bottle of wine, and Sherlock’s hand is in mine, and I’m not afraid he’ll fly away from me. We’re flat on our backs, looking up at the clear, glittering, purple sky and the wine is nearly gone. The city is almost quiet, in the way that cities are almost quiet sometimes, and it’s close enough to peace. We’re wise enough now to take our moments of idyll where we find them.

Sherlock presses my hand and half turns his head to speak into my ear, puffing warm wine breath on my cheek and down my neck, “Tell me which constellations you know.”

“Constellations?” I turn as well, kiss the tip of his nose.

Sherlock’s face crinkles with pleasure, “Yes, you’re my expert, John. Tell me which ones you know.”

“I er,” I look up at the sky, then back at him and giggle, “I don’t know any constellations.”

Sherlock nudges me with his elbow, “Make it up, then, John. I’m giving you the opportunity to be romantic. I thought you enjoyed that.”

I laugh, “All right then. Hmmm.” I squint up at the sky, looking for shapes. “Okay,” I say after a moment of gazing, “There’s the Hound.”

Sherlock giggles, “The Hound, John? Does it have glowing red eyes?”

“Shut up, Sherlock. Don’t giggle at my romance. Here, look.” I point, “See the floppy ears? There and there. And there’s the wagging tail, just there.”

Sherlock follows my pointing finger and smiles a wine-muzzy smile, “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I see it now. Beautiful.”

I grin and kiss his cheek, “Yeah?”

“Mmm, I knew you’d show me something worth seeing, John. You always do. My conductor of starlight. Yes,” Sherlock squeezes my hand again, “Yes, it’s quite beautiful.”

I’m all for the idea of Elyza sitting between Alicia’s legs and letting the younger girl play with her hair. Candlelight surrounding them and a bottle of stolen red wine sitting half full next to them. Alicia giggles as Elyza gets a chill from the soft touches and shutters. Alicia wraps her arms around Elyza’s waist and stretches out her long legs so she can place soft kisses on her neck. Sometimes the wine gets to Alicia’s head and she gets giggly and silly. She tries to tickle Elyza. But Elyza is of course stronger so she spins around and pins Alicia to the ground while holding her arms about her head. This almost always ends with a heated make out session and sometimes more if Alicia isn’t too far gone on wine. 

freeholds  asked:

kingcup, something mass effect?

Kingcup- youth, innocence, dawn

*********** 

Even for ICT, Vega’s class is a small one. Forty people got invited to Vila Militar, and thirty-seven showed up – but that was almost four years ago now, and half of those people are gone. 

Fine with Vega. ICT didn’t work for them, no shame there. But ICT works just fine for James Vega, and there’s no doubt in his mind – even when he’s facedown in the freezing mud in the middle of night, trying to find the catch for his parachute with numb fingers, or trying to cram vorcha physiology (and seriously, what the fuck is going on inside them? Vega’s crossing Heshtok off his vacation list for good) into his head for the tenth straight hour – that he’s going all the way. He’s James Vega. What he wants, he gets, because he puts his head down and gets the job done. 

He still flirts his way through every class, every mission, because that’s just his way, like he told Scars, back in another life. But when it counts, when the air smells like spent thermal clips and sweat and someone’s screaming at him over the comms to move his ass, he’s on. Present and accounted for. 

To tell the truth, the screaming makes him feel at home. As much as he likes his cohort, and as much as he loves the work, even when he’s so goddamn tired he’s walking into walls, they all look so young, compared to the face he wakes up to every morning. 

It’s not just that he feels about a hundred years older than everyone around him. It’s the way the look at him, too. 

Vega’s not dumb. It’s not really him they’re looking at. They’re watching for an echo, waiting for him to let something slip. So far, they’ve been too polite to ask – or too chickenshit, though either one suits Vega just fine – but everyone wants to know: what was she like? 

Vega had nine months and change of up-close-and-personal experience with her, and he’s still got nothing for the day someone finally sacks up and asks him. He’s got stories, sure, and maybe that would satisfy most people, but this is ICT. They’re N4 and rising, they’re made of steel and they’re going all the way. 

They’re following in her footsteps. No one forgets that before she was Commander Shepard, she was N7, and she knows what they’ll have to do, what they’ll have to become. 

Nobody – not Vega, not Hackett, hell, not even Scars, knows what she had to walk through to come out the other side. For years, they said she died in the blast, no last-second Hail Mary to haul herself out of the fires one last time. But that was a lie, and even if the non-believers still bitch and whisper about it all being a trick, Vega knows better. 

Shepard’s alive. Shepard won’t – can’t – stop. 

She’s always going to be the peak he can’t quite reach. And that’s fine with Vega, too. So he doesn’t have an answer for what she was like, if someone ever asks. He doesn’t have to. Shepard came back, crawling inch by inch back to the galaxy she helped save, and she’ll show them who she is. She’ll show them all. 

Till then, Vega’s got work to do. There’s a whole new galaxy out there to protect, and Shepard won’t be the only one to do it. 

Half assed fanaccount lol

-First off this was my first ever kpop concert and it turned out amazing!!
My voice is gone from doing all that screaming omg!

-The boys english was amazing like they spoke to us in English the whole concert!

-Everyone was so turnt and sang along to every song!

-The people behind me was kinda dead but let’s not worry about that tho.

-The people i was sitting next to were really nice and I enjoyed talking to them!

-They boyz was so beautiful i cant!

-I remember that jimin almost fell backwards when he was backing up he got to close to the stairs.

- one word cypher

- the energy was crazy

- jhope throw water on people, this boy had to much fun he was so full of energy!

-they sounded amazing live!!!! Like i cant even explain their voices it was magical

- no bow but its all good the boys still had an awesome time

I had such an amazing time I cant wait to go my next kpop concert!

Find. Them.

It had been a full forty-eight hours and there was still no sign of Alice or Aiden. Neither had slept in that amount of time- having been woken up in the middle of the night to their house being invaded. Two full days since their children had been taken, and they had no leads.
Ethan was almost at his breaking point. He had done all he could: called all his old contacts and started them looking. He was putting in another pot of coffee when it finally hit him that his babies were gone.
He broke down. Right there, in the kitchen, in front of the half-full coffee pot. His legs gave out and he just collapsed. He pulled his knees into his chest and buried his face as the hot tears stung his eyes.
runawayagent