also sorry for the length!


19 AUS FOR JUSTINE :: Big Four In Storybrooke [14/19]


HICCUP HADDOCK III. Was raised in a family legendary for their skills in hunting for sport - something Hiccup has never excelled in. After disappointing his father once again when actually adopting an animal he finds in the forest (and naming him Toothless, of all things!), Hiccup is demoted to help run Gobber’s auto shop. One day Granny calls him in to repair a broken stove and (with much awkward fumbling and maybe a little deja vu) he meets a red-headed waitress named Merida.

MERIDA DUNBROCH. Works at Granny’s Diner to save up for the day she gets to see the world beyond Storybrooke’s boundaries (despite her mother’s disapproval). When not at work, she runs out into the woods and practices her archery. One afternoon, she breaks her compound bow and (having no where else to go) decides to seek the local mechanic’s help. Hiccup agrees to fix the bow, which in turn leads to an unlikely friendship (that seems to be a bit too familiar to both of them).

JACK FROST. Having no known relatives in Storybrooke, he lives with the Bennett family who was kind enough to take him in. Widely avoided in town (though no one really understood why they felt the urge to ignore him), he’s been known to be a bit of a loner. Currently part of the staff of the mental ward in which Belle was kept in secret. Was sometimes assigned to her cell, and found himself being especially nice and offering her extra pudding because she reminded him of a little girl he thinks he might have known (Hint: Emma). One day he goes to pick Sophie up from daycare when lo and behold he meets a blonde girl named Rapunzel.

RAPUNZEL CORONA. Adopted and raised by Mother Gothel, who runs Storybrooke’s daycare center. She frequently takes over the place when Gothel leaves to run errands. It is here where she befriends a boy named Jack Frost, who (since then) starts to visit the daycare more and more frequently …to help care for the children, of course. (Surprisingly, he is amazing with kids.) When not at the center, she mostly stays stuck in her room or by the house where she likes to draw the citizens who pass by or the wildflowers that grow by the water.

anonymous asked:

I have a desperate need and you're my only hope. Are you still taking fitzsimmons fic prompts? Because: ACCIDENTAL (SPACE) BABY ACQUISITION. please? I'd love you forever, I'm in Pain.

softness came from the starlight (and filled me full to the bone)

Sitting at her bench in the space station lab, Jemma’s head snaps up when she hears Fitz’s raised voice coming from the hallway.

Her heart thumps as she realises she hasn’t heard him be so loud for weeks, not since he was another person, in another world. Swallowing hard, she pushes her stool back from the work bench and leaves the lab to find him.

The ceilings of the station’s corridors are curved, and painted a sickening shade of green that still makes Jemma’s stomach turn even after a fortnight of living there. She bites down the taste of nausea, and hurries down the hallway to where Fitz is standing with his back to her, two of the station’s security guards in front of him.

The guards leave as she approaches, throwing one last glance over their shoulders, and, hearing her footsteps behind him, Fitz turns to meet her. When she sees what he is holding in his arms, Jemma gasps.

‘Fitz! Is that…’

Cradled in the crook of her best friend’s elbow is a baby, with chubby arms and podgy legs, and skin that is completely and utterly blue.

Read on AO3!


What if a Sburb player had a handy device to keep track of their session?

Wouldn’t it be nice if you could tell exactly what your stats were without having to guess? How about knowing if your friends are okay or not without having to pester them ceaselessly? Maybe you’d like to keep track of the fraymotifs available to you, or how you’re doing on that grist you’re stealing from that one asshole that has way too much? 

I present Sburb Mobile Beta, for all your adventuring needs! No longer will you have to waste time worrying about silly bullshit when you have quests to do and monsters to strife with!

Currently working on implementing an echeladder and a server viewport. Stay tuned!

(This is a phone customization that I did on my Android! Everything is dynamic to really give it that “actively playing in a session” feel! Statuses change, the bars replenish and deplete at different rates, so on and so forth. Also my apps are scattered around the screens, so it is functional as well as neat to look at. :B)

(also im sorry about the length of this post agh)

anonymous asked:

Microfic idea: Paulina turns down all the guys' promposals and then shows up with Star

23 guys. Paulina turned down 23 guys, prom was less than a week away, and the rumors were starting to circulate.

“Sorry boys,” she confirmed the next day, after shooting down candidate #24. She flashed a smug smile, pleased as could be. “I’m taken.”

She refused to divulge her date’s identity, however (she, quote, ‘wanted it to be a surprise’) and thus a conspiracy was born.

“I bet it’s a nerd,” someone guessed at lunchtime. Paulina’s mystery date had become the talk of the school, and some of the most ardent gossipers sat with their yearbooks open, considering the options. Paulina was no stranger to dating those on the lower rungs, or giving geeks their 15 minutes of fame. But the most likely candidate–Danny Fenton–was already spoken for, and, when confronted with questions, his girlfriend Sam Manson kicked the hecklers to the curb for daring to even suggest.

“What if it’s a celebrity?” someone else suggested days later. After all, if any girl at Casper High could catch the eye of a celeb, it was Paulina. And it would make for one hell of a surprise. This theory grew so popular that many people planned to bring camcorders and autograph books to the event on Prom night.

“Or maybe,” a few whispered among the halls, a rare but not outlandish theory; “Maybe Paulina finally nabbed a date with the Ghost Boy.”

But none of the pre-Prom buzz could’ve prepared them for the truth. On the big night, Paulina arrived, wearing an elegant pink dress, a violet rose, and a smirk. No hesitation. Casper’s Queen Bee waltzed through the double doors, and on her arm, visibly nervous but also excited, was her date, a blonde in blue.

The matching corsages confirmed it. Paulina’s date was none other than her best friend–now girlfriend–Star.

And not even an appearance from Phantom could’ve caused a bigger uproar.

Crestwood Analysis: Sad Lavellans, Angry Lavellans, and Solas’s Cowardice

I wanted to write about the different break-up options in Crestwood and how, at least for me, the differences play out emotionally in the aftermath, based on whether you choose the Sad (“I love you”) or Angry (“Don’t do this to me”) options. I’ve never played or headcanoned the third and, honestly, one truly hopeful option before (“I believe in us”) and so have less to say about that, but I would be interested if anyone can offer their perspective per the Hopeful option, ie: such a generous response to such a cowardly act. My Lavellans have both been too brash and too young for that kind of immediate sense of perspective. Note that this is not an argument in favor of any one response, just my own personal reading of how emotional dynamics play out differently between Solas and Lavellan post-Crestwood, based on the different responses I’ve chosen in the past. Also, sorry for the length of this post. I tried to shorten it, but it just kept getting longer, so…yeah. I threw it all in. Reckless abandon!

I am not sure what the most popular option has been in Crestwood. There’s no way to know. For me, with my first Lavellan, I went full Sad. This is because it felt tragically romantic, like when Angel breaks up with Buffy in season three, or when Edward breaks up with Bella in New Moon. I am a sap and a masochist that way. But for whatever reason, I had a really hard time with this option, especially in the aftermath. It seemed strangely contradictory to me, that she could be so upset, so blindsided, so terrified of losing him, and yet he merely is apologizing for “distracting [her] from [her] duty.” At this point, duty distractions, to me, seemed irrelevant, or another matter entirely. Filling in the blanks here, ie: between the balcony kiss and this—this immense sadness on her part, plus his cold response to said sadness—was difficult for me.

Of course, it hurt like hell in the moment. Obviously. I made a Tumblr. But for whatever reason, afterward, I had a really hard time headcanoning this one, ie: resolving all the weird, dissonant emotional chords that seemed to be going on at once in the scene, and then reconciling them with what happens later on. If they are as in love as Lavellan’s reaction suggests, why did he think merely referring to himself as a “distraction” would be enough to definitively break things off? Is he seriously that cold? Maybe. Perhaps he has to force himself to be this cold simply in order to deal with the situation. Eep. Dark. Still, I thought she would have more questions, ie: Why are you being so cold? What are you talking about, my “duty,” you’ve never cared before? I also found it hard to envision their relationship after Crestwood. I mean, unless you play it otherwise, there’s a bit of time still before the final battle with Corypheus. How did she stay away from him? Did he have to turn her away again and again? She was just so hurt in Crestwood, so confused. How could she not at least try and understand? And after the final battle, how is she so composed, speaking to Solas calmly and with what seemed to be a great deal of perspective, or at least acceptance? Perhaps others could, but I couldn’t make sense of this.

Once I got to Trespasser with my first Lavellan, I then couldn’t reconcile her desperation in Crestwood with her casual demeanor in the beginning at the Winter Palace. It seemed like she would have spent the previous two years searching for Solas frantically, and then wondering if, perhaps, he might somehow be there, at the Exalted Council (like actually be there—not throwing Qunari through eluvians and baiting her with blood trails). She was too beholden in this playthrough, and I couldn’t figure out how she could be both the calm, cool Inquisitor joking with Varric and talking marriage with Cassandra, and also be Solas’s frantic ex-girlfriend at the same time. Then, in the end, that she didn’t immediately jump into his arms when she saw him for the first time in two years felt like a major flaw. I needed her to need him more, and I was getting none of it from the game. Partially, this is an issue of the writing, but also, because I’m sort of like this emotional canon purist (ie: emotional dimensions outside of the game must resolve as they do in the game—I need it to be real), it all just ended up feeling a little bit meh. So, naturally, I started over. From the beginning. New Lavellan. I needed to get it right.

Okay, so the other night, with my new Lavellan, who I’ve been playing amidst droves of fanfic and hours of headcanon daydreams, I realized in that moment, in Crestwood, that the only possible response to his cowardly behavior seemed to be incredulity and anger. After everything they’d been through? This is how he ends it? Unbelievable. Her aggressive, physical response—shoving him, yelling, calling him a “cold-hearted son of a bitch”—felt so true in the moment. I sort of lost my breath a little bit. For some reason, the level of cowardice in his behavior (and it is—it is cowardly) seems to be compounded (or negated) by her response. If she responds by begging him to stay, telling him she loves him, this lowers the effect of his cowardice in general, because all the focus is on her emotional response to his behavior rather than the behavior itself. The cowardice has little effect on her. She seems to care less about whether what he’s doing is cowardly. She cares only that it’s happening at all. This response seems based in an unconditional fear of losing him. But if she responds by aggressively pushing him, demanding that he tell her he doesn’t care (which he can’t do, and she knows it), essentially calling him out on his cowardice, this highlights the motive behind his action rather than just the action itself. This, to me, makes his default reasoning of “duty distraction” to feel like just a cover now, ie: the first thing he could think of to say in his moment of bumbling cowardice.

The dialogue choice for the angry response reads, “Don’t do this to me!” It is the one response where the focus is on her. It is also the only response in which Lavellan walks away from Solas. The other two responses are focused on him or them (“I love you”/”I believe in us”). In both of these options, Solas walks away from Lavellan. I am tempted to draw a connection back to my earlier claims in another piece about their sexual/emotional dynamic, ie: with an angry response, this is the only time that Lavellan can be seen pulling away or walking away from Solas. It is otherwise always the other way around.

When Solas is able to walk away in the end, it makes the entire affair seem colder, and much more in stone, even as if he’d prepared himself for the coming of this very moment. But in the angry break-up, he seems completely taken off guard, especially by her response, which is physical and bitter, ie: “Tell me you don’t care.” Another dare. What she sees: He is brave enough to break up with her, but not brave enough to tell her why? I like this Lavellan, because, like in previous scenes, she is sort of putting the ball in Solas’s court. In the Fade and on the balcony, however, this has reminded Solas that he holds the power, which empowers him to continue the exchange (ie: to kiss her). But here, in Crestwood, even with the ball in his court, Solas has no way of responding. He cannot tell her the truth, but he also cannot bring himself to lie about his feelings. All he can do is take her abuse, stand there, and apologize as she walks away. He has fully lost control now—finally, and it is because of this that he is forced to reckon with his cowardice. This was powerful for me. I also knew that “cold-hearted” comment bit him. Solas is much more of a Romantic Hero during this option—far more self-hating and emotionally distraught than he was in my initial playthrough.

Because when she’s pleading for him and telling him she loves him during the sad breakup, his response is to put up his hands, to ward her off coldly, to say “I can’t. I’m sorry,” and then just walk away, leaving her there. Again at his mercy. I think my Lavellan, this time around, was a little bit sick of being “at his mercy.” She wanted more. Plus, his reaction in the sad break-up, his behavior is so cold, and so is his ability to walk away: it makes him seem more secure in the fact, if not relieved, that it is finally over—even if he’s hurt, it is held back.

I also feel that, during the angry break up scenario, his decision to break up with her does actually feel sort of believably spontaneous and cowardly and regrettable. Like, he really was gonna tell her the truth about the whole Fen’Harel thing, but he chickened out, and then the vallaslin removal was like this great, unfixable mistake, and he just legitimately realized he had lost all control of his feelings, the situation, and the relationship at large. He cannot walk away. How could he? He has no idea what’s just happened. Solas is so rarely caught by true surprise. Especially after watching him just like, own the Iron Bull in a game of head-chess entirely in banter the other day, I’m not sure he knows how to deal with even one small, legitimate moment of spontaneous indecision. Certainly not a stalemate. Because you cannot plan ahead for those. And he is prideful, and a martyr, so when caught off guard, of course he defaults to the mission, and he bails on anything so unpredictable and unwieldy as love.

Oddly enough, I’d argue that Lavellan’s angry response forces Solas to actually confront the reality of their relationship, while a sad response immediately hardens him to the situation. To avoid her tears, he must effectively switch off his humanity. He backs off, on guard. However, he lets her anger in, because he feels he deserves it. This, to me, is a good thing. Any time you can get Solas to feel, that is a good thing.

Once she’s gone, I picture Solas just like, dropping to his knees, realizing what he’s done, and, based on her reaction, terrified that there will be no going back. In the sad break-up scene, it seems like he still has an out to change his mind—if he wants to. Her reaction leaves him in control. But in the angry break-up, she is in control in the aftermath. There may be no going back, no fixing this mistake. Fen’Harel is obsessed with fixing his own mistakes. So he disappears, takes two years to suppress his feelings for her, because he has no choice, and, whether mistaken or not, doubles down on the plans he abandoned her for in the first place. Then, when he sees her again, and she is still open to him and his redemption, even somewhat forgiving, despite a modicum of, not resignation, but reason, it’s all the more hurtful. He falls so easily back into old tropes in Trespasser when he calls her vhenan, suggesting that their relationship has permeated him subconsciously, that it won’t die easy, won’t die at all. Their reunion is powerful then as, in his own very familiar, noncommittal way, he comes back around at the end (as he always does), calls her his “love,” tells her he will never forget her, takes the anchor, and, per his duty (and his nature), leaves. Again. WHY, SOLAS?

The angry break-up sets Solas up a bit differently in the immediate aftermath as well, I think, at Skyhold, ie: he’s in the wrong, and he knows it. Meanwhile, Lavellan’s anger sets her up for all of these wild reactions and methods for coping, doing just about anything to get him the hell out of her head so she can, as she puts it in the scene, “move on.”  This is very much my own headcanon, but I picture her like, heading out with the Iron Bull to anger-slay some dragons the very next day. Maybe she’ll bring Solas, too, but on the condition that he is a “powerful rift mage” and that she needs his magic if she wants to succeed. She still loves him, but in her defeat, she, like him, has grown too proud to relent. Though it hurts her, she treats Solas as a tool, a means to an end, which, considering Solas’s motives for joining the Inquisition in the first place, is ironic. And hey, I’m just trying to build a story here. I like irony.

Of course, I am still a deep romantic, and so I know that all of this is just reactive. Lavellan still loves Solas, but she is actively upset with him, searching out a way to reconcile her anger at his inexplicable cowardice and her own (apparently) unconditional love for him. Their interactions at Skyhold, as I see them, are often extended and bitter on her part, as she, starving, will do anything to draw any sort of emotional response from him at all. He, meanwhile, shows only self-loathing, taking her abuse, while trying to search out her true feelings without showing his hand. He calls her “Inquisitor” out of guilt and deference and speaks only of their final fight. It is hard for him. She may not refer to him at all, trying to get a rise out of his “cold heart.” At times, she may be downright mean, but he believes he deserves it, so just like in Crestwood, he is defeated and hard-pressed to defend himself—

Lavellan: You really don’t let anybody see under that polite mask you wear, do you?

Solas: You saw more than most.

Then, by the time it’s the end of the game, and they defeat Coryphy-tit, and the orb is shattered, Lavellan’s expression, her composure, will make sense in ways it did not when I played the sad break-up. Solas confession then (”No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.”) almost reads like one more apology. It is quasi-closure. I mean, at least until you get to the end of Trespasser. After the sad break-up, I couldn’t understand her composure in this moment at the end of the main campaign. But somehow, the fact that she became angry provided her with an immediate outlet, catharsis, a way to process, and now, Lavellan can see that, no matter what, they’ve been through a great deal together, and in the end, being so angry seems foolish, even silly. Perspective begins to set in, making everything even sadder and more hopeless than it was before, but also setting up the next two years as a time in which Lavellan at least attempts to get over Solas (even if unsuccessfully), rather than spend so much time and energy searching for him.

Solas: I suspect you have questions.

I mean, you think?

The end of Trespasser is so very sad. Lost elf, come home. I haven’t gotten there yet in this playthrough, but I hope to fully understand her initial subdued response now. She had hardened herself for so long in her attempt to move on. But the more they talk about their relationship (”And so he did.”), the more she softens to him, lets him in again, remembers. Just as quickly as he falls into the old routine, so does she. At this point, the term vhenan is so loaded–a single utterance conjures a world of joyous and painful memories. He still loves her, and she loves him, but the complications are…dire. We shall see what happens.

Anyway, this is just one way to read the different Lavellan responses at Crestwood, and I would be interested in knowing how other people read their Lavellan’s response in the end. I love hearing how others have managed to reconcile their internal stories with the (often downright sparse but immensely tantalizing) material we get in the game.This is just mine.

Now scuse me while I go watch this and cry hysterically. <3


◦ pairing: reader x hyungsik

◦ rating: m

◦ word count: 3.7k

◦ request: Is it ok if I ask for an hyungsik smut with a thicker girl who’s a friend of his friend who’s protective of her and doesn’t want him with her cause she not his type and he loves to flirt with other girls but he’s attracted to her and then they sneak away to have sex with after care and pillow talk cause she insecure about her body that he doesn’t actually like her cause she’s not the ideal type…..

Hihi can I request a Hyungshik smut with him being a cocky but kind chaebol? Something like his character in The Heirs or High Society!

◦ a/n: Guys I have gotten like six hyungsik smut requests LOL we all whipped; on another note, I swear y’all are like some weird ass mind readers; you always end up requesting something that I half jotted down already xD I sort of changed it up a little - enjoyyy! (Also sorry this took forever I got swamped with work cause midterms; hopefully the length makes up for it?? tbh idk what i wrote)

m a s t e r l i s t

I can’t say I was surprised. It had hardly been ten minutes and the idiot had gone and ditched me. It happened every time, and every time I sat at the table with a drink that wasn’t strong enough in hand, scanning the crowds for him. No wonder he didn’t have a girlfriend.

Rolling my eyes, I sipped the champagne in my glass and set it on the table, welcoming the burn in the back of my throat. It was already close to empty. Leaning back in my chair, my eyes darted through the room. The place was lit with dim yellow lights, regal almost. The floor scattered with men in suits and ties and women in extravagant dresses. My brother had somewhat of a knack for these social gatherings. Despite that, he lacked the decency to keep a girlfriend for longer than a month and naturally the one that seemed perfect who stuck longer than that was only after his wealth. He turned into hyper social butterfly, but wouldn’t let anyone get close to him. I couldn’t blame him for being upset, but still, whatever demon possessed him to start taking me as his plus one to these stupid company celebrations was beyond me.

“How is it that I always find you alone?” A familiar voice floated through the nuisance of the party, standing a couple feet away. He held his own glass of champagne in his hand, also almost empty. He looked as dashing as ever, the suit kissing his figure in all the right ways. Ah, Park Hyungsik, what a fine creature.

Keep reading

The Way You Move//Kim Yugyeom (Part 14)

Pairing: Yugeyom x Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut

Summary: @morsalinou said:
Your rrequest are open omgggg ok,…. I will try requesting simething for the first time here😅 hmm can i request a smut (🙊💕) where yugyeom sees you dancing in a competition (like hit the stage) or you dance with him you can decide (this weeks theme is love did you watch this show btw😍) and the rest is up to you! I’m so nervous omg😲😂

Author’s Note:  Sorry for the lack of updates! Also, sorry for the length of this chapter, it’s short, but only because it’s a filler chapter! Enjoy it nonetheless!

xoxo Sara

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

Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

You saw the color drain from Yugyeom’s face before you turned around, beginning to walk back towards the door that led to the stage. Your heart broke into pieces inside of your chest, each piece stabbing you from the inside out.

“(Y/N),” You heard Yugyeom call your name softly, but before he could say another word, you were out the stage door, slamming it behind you.

You knew that your instructor was right; that all the girls fawned over Yugyeom and wanted to date him, but you never thought anyone would attempt to kiss him. Maybe it wasn’t expecting anyone to kiss him— maybe you didn’t expect him to let them kiss him.

Keep reading

Tragedy. It was a constant. Like the fading sun and rising moon, every new day seemed to bring on something more to break against her bones, something new to find purchase in her throat and threaten to choke her. It wasn’t easy – none of this was. Protecting everyone in Red Creek had always been what she’d wanted; but the spotlight growing hotter on her own coven’s back and the newly dead soon buried among those others before them made it difficult. The grass that grew to meet the headstones of ancestors irritated her skin, but she’d hadn’t enough power of will to move. She didn’t know what to do – and all she had was the strength that resonated from within the ground beneath her. Perhaps it was heartless of her, to have barely thought of the hunters – the people she knew, the people she’d shared this town with; but her heart didn’t bleed for them. She bled for her people. She could feel their very essence fade from the air around her. A loss to her coven was staggering, they’d come to learn to channel each other — to trust the powers each member held, and suddenly two were gone. Their power with it. Had they not already been weak in the face of a town wide magic ban – of which she had no part of voting it in – such a loss was devastating. A waning flower held between delicate fingers grew to bloom by the mere will of her power, uncaring to the ban – uncaring of much at this point in time. JD was still missing, Nolan was going out of his mind, and she didn’t know where to go from here  – how to help, when so many now saw the Fontaine Coven as something they never had been before. A threat. “White Carnations. Symbolic for remembrance.” She muttered lightly as the presence behind her became known, the flower soon laid cross the stone Savannah knelt before. “As if anybody could forget the things that happen here in the first place.–”

Sleepy Kisses

Fandom: The Hobbit 

Pairing: Bard the Bowman x Female!Reader


Word Count: 4470 I honestly have no idea what happen im sorry

Warnings: Smut, fluff and tickles :)

Notes: To the anon that requested this, I really do hope you enjoy it. <3 I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but hopefully it’s just as cute as you imagined it would be? I’m also sorry about the length, I think this is the longest one shot I’ve written in a looong time only because it’s my first smut bard fic. I have to admit, that I did get a bit carried away, haha. But I hope that you and everyone else who happen to reads this enjoy it even just a little. <3

Also, if y'all have the time to, I would love to hear what you thought about this! You definitely don’t have to, I’m thankful if you just read it. But it’ll let me know how I’m doing, and it makes me feel all fluffy inside. ^-^

Please and thank you! Now enjoy~ <3

Keep reading

If it hadn’t been for his broken fingers he would be in the workshop right now. But Alexei had taken that away from him too. So instead he stood on the roof. Alone. It was difficult to hold the flask in his hand so he sat it on the ledge of the tower when he wasn’t drowning his thoughts in liquor. Not that it was helping much anyway.

He could jump.

He could but wouldn’t. Not yet. Not as long as Jesse was still walking around the hallways of the tower.

This was the lowest he’s felt in his life. A different type of depression than what he felt when he was living outside of the tower. No, that was just because he was approaching his 40s and felt unaccomplished in his life. It was the daily grind. He was just bored. This was different - heavy and dark and consistently hanging over Francisco’s head. Everything hurt. He really wasn’t cleared to leave the infirmary due to multiple broken ribs but had snuck out and as expected, no one came looking for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Eating was something he would forget to do and almost… didn’t care to do anymore. It was too much work to turn to leave when he heard the elevator door open, (it was hard to breath let alone get to the stairs in enough time to avoid contact with whoever was behind those doors,) so he stayed put. He didn’t turn to see who had walked onto the roof. If they wanted to see his bruised, swollen, face they could come to him themselves.

The Way You Move// Kim Yugyeom (Part 13)

Pairing: Yugeyom x Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut

Summary: @morsalinou said:
Your rrequest are open omgggg ok,…. I will try requesting simething for the first time here😅 hmm can i request a smut (🙊💕) where yugyeom sees you dancing in a competition (like hit the stage) or you dance with him you can decide (this weeks theme is love did you watch this show btw😍) and the rest is up to you! I’m so nervous omg😲😂

Author’s Note:  Sorry for the lack of updates! Also, sorry for the length of this chapter, it’s short, but only because it’s a filler chapter! Enjoy it nonetheless!

xoxo Sara

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

Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Soon, Wednesday had rolled around. You didn’t understand how time could go by both so quickly, yet so pain-stakingly slow. You felt your strain getting better and better each day, the swelling and coloring going down immensely after having to ice it for no less than 16 hours a day.

Bambam came over often to hang out with you, after Yugyeom left to go to dance practice with his temporary partner each morning. You had met his temporary partner the first day he began to practice with her, which was not long ago. She seemed nice enough, and her skills were impeccable, you were sure she wasn’t in this competition and that maybe she was an extra, or a student teacher of some sort. She was quite beautiful, too; her hair looked nice and soft as if it had never been touched, and she always wore a sweet smile on her face, keeping a bright and positive attitude throughout your meeting with her.

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Danny had been feeling the need to escape for a while and he felt that he’d tried almost everything. He’d got blind drunk more than a few times, he’d gone on many walks to try and clear his head, he’d even tried to read a few scripts that he’d asked to get sent in. But nothing, absolutely nothing was working. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Danny never thought he would do this, stoop this low. He vowed he would never ever touch the stuff, with what Zayn through, that had been enough to scare him off for life. But Danny found himself feeling desperate and it was only weed, right? Honestly what harm could it do? He had manage to get a hand on some gear and he’d had it hidden in his bag for well over a week, not sure if he could really go through with it or not. Today was testing him though and he just needed something to take the edge off. He digged into the bag before sneakily sliding it into his pocket.

He headed off to what he hoped would be a secluded area of the resort, he forgot about the cameras being around at the best of times. He hoped he was somewhere he wasn’t going to get caught or that someone would run into him. He walked over to the barbeque area, a place that was often deserted at this time of day. 11.47am. He let out a heavy sigh before sitting himself down on the edge of the step, pulling the stuff he needed out of his pocket before rolling himself a joint. He hadn’t smoked in a very long time, not since he was a teenager really and he’d never once touched weed but he managed to roll up the joint expertly. He checked around him once more to make sure that nobody was around before he lit the joint and brought it to his lips.

after spending some much needed time away from auradon (and people in general, really) bella was finally ready to return – or, at least, she thought she was. she sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel even though the car was in park, as she stared at the school buildings. coming back had sounded so easy, until she actually did it. now, it seemed like the hardest thing to do. she was debating getting out of the car when a knock on her window brought her out of her thoughts. she turned towards to window before blinking when she saw who was standing there, rolling the window down after a moment. “hi – long time no see, huh?”

lthyl  asked:

Also sorry darling. Things got out of hand lmao both for length and... Angsty feelings (IM SO SORRY IT WAS STRONGER THAN ME BYE)

The second thing Jeon can’t stand about you are your eyes. Well, not exactly your eyes per se (even if he can’t really deny the sharp sting of annoyance on the left side of his chest every time a flirty Taehyung pops out with a “Y/n, such pretty eyes you have”, your laugh already trilling on the curve of your lips). Oh no, it’s actually more about the way your glance sometimes alights right against the roundness of his dark orbs.

A curious tilting of your head as your eyes link together and then here we are - that faint narrowing of long lashes just before pure understanding (of him, of his secret thoughts that were never ever supposed to surface from the depth of his mind) swims for a second within the clear hues of your irises.

No words, not a single one rolling down your still smiling mouth. You don’t need to and Jungkook truly doesn’t like how you suddenly avert your eyes the second he feels blush creeping up his neck and cheeks and ears - almost as if you know that you are seeing something too private to witness yet.  And even if your eyes are similar to a precise dart in their nature, the boy could swear that an arrow straight to his soul would probably hurt less.

Yes, the sole idea of you seeing right through him makes Jeon just so, so pissed, because - what if you are right? (Sometimes, he wonders how he let the cracks of his walls become so visible without him even noticing it until it was noticing it until it was too late).

However, this night, this very specific night, after hours of solo practice, with muscles screaming and head heavy for some very familiar, very unwelcomed thoughts scratching the corners of his brain, Jungkook’s only craving is to turn his mind off with a boiling shower before collapsing over his bed.

At least, tonight, for once, you (and how he doesn’t like you at all) are very far away form his head as his tired fingers twist the key into the lock of the dorm front door. So, of course, you must be there when he enters the messy living room, casually playing chess with Namjoon on the floor.

For a moment, the Golden Boy (name automatically appearing in his mind the second he registers your presence) freezes in his place, observing your back exposed by a loose ponytail and an even more loose sweater. Like that, the curve of your neck looks like the promise of silver dreams; your eyes lowered in concentration two stars too far for his liking.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. He’s not ready to see you, not tonight. (The cracks are too big now for him to hide them with confidence and knee retorts.)  Jungkook, simply, hopelessly doesn’t know what to do - part of him wants to run for dear life, yet another part of him just cries to dive in and drown. And, torn between two equally scary options, he can just stand there, in the middle of the room with eyes big and a pissed heart drumming within his ribcage.

Then, an unexpected (well, quite predictable actually) turn of events unfreezes him from his subtle panic attack. 

“Checkmate!” Namjoon utters, a victorious smile bringing his dimple back to life as he moves the queen above the chessboard before looking at the boy in front of him.

“Oh, you are home Jungkookie,” he says. Jeon clears his voice, trying to collect himself. “Yes, I am.“ 

“Good, I was a bit worried since you rarely come home this late,” the leader nods, yet his words are far way and Jungkook can’t really seem to hear him clearly, for you are leaning down on the floor with a whine (like him, losing is something you hardly accept), head tilting up to look at him from your laying position.

“Welcome home, Kook.”  And he takes a second too long to reply, a second too long to hide the cracks splitting his tired self, because even from upside down your eyes are wandering his face, drinking in every ridge and scar and lovely curve.

Seeing that tonight something his darkening the usual brightness trapped under his lashes. You hate it just as much as Jungkook is hating your keen glance right now. Your brow faintly knit, your lips quietly curl: is everything fine? they are asking just for him, smile left behind in favor of genuine preoccupation. (Of course, Jeon hates that too - so annoying).

The boy gulps down air like small rocks, eyes flying to the ground and the only answer he can provide you with is a whispered - “Why are you here?”

Silence falls thickly over his body, over your form now a bit more hurt than before. It’s an awkward moment, with your eyes up to the ceiling and Jeon’s buried to the floor, yet, again, a deep voice crawls in to bring back normality in form of a loud, loud yawn - Namjoon.

Oh no, he is not a stupid man, for he always noticed the exchanges between you two and he is not blind to what’s happening under his very own nose, so he raises a hand in front of his open mouth, words getting muffled both for the yawn and his palm.

“It’s late guys,” he says, happy that the attention is now focused on him. “I’m going to bed. Y/n, you know your can crack here if you want, the couch is all yours.”

Namjoon pauses to stretch as you nod at him. He doesn’t miss how Jungkook is still looking at the floor. The leader sighs, watching both of you and internally swearing at your stubbornness.

“Just, don’t stay up for too long, you kids,” he eventually says while walking to his bedroom, then stopping near the door frame to throw you a smug smirk. “Oh and, Y/n?”


“I’m still two victories above you.” The man sneaks into his room with a quiet laugh, easily avoiding the pillow badly aimed at him.

As Namjoon closes the door behind him, he can only hopes for the best. At least, now you are smiling again. You try to catch your breath, giggling bubbling up your lips while your eyes land on Jungkook’s form again. He’s still looking away, of course.

“What do you wanna do?” you ask anyway, undefeated. But, the boy thinks, damn him if he’ll fall into your trap once more. It’s easy, he just needs to avoid your face.

“I guess I’ll go to my bedroom,” he mumbles, already stepping past your body. Oh, but you are fast, and you know you can’t let him go so easily this time - not tonight, not when he has that look deep in his eyes. So you quickly raise on your feet, reaching him in a few, hurried steps and curling your slim fingers around his wrist. Firmly. He won’t slip away from you, even if he wants to. (Because yes, Jeon has a reason to be scared, for when it comes to him, you notice things that no one else does.)

“Wait,” you murmur. And that’s enough to make his head turn towards you, lips parting for your gesture and eyes hopelessly falling deep into yours - the trap he hates so much is now swallowing him whole with a sound too similar to the fluttering of butterflies wings for him not to worry.

Because, the third thing he really doesn’t like about you, the one he can’t stand the most, is how your touch feels on his body. And by the hectic pumping of his heart, Jungkook realizes that he must be very, very pissed right now.        



After screaming after Fiddleford’s retreating form, Stanford stood by the portal. He couldn’t believe it. His friend, no, his ex-friend, had the audacity to quit on him just when they were so close to achieving greatness. A little dimensional travel sickness, and it was like Fiddleford couldn’t get a grip on anything. That’s all it was, right? He tensed again, suddenly. Well, it was like he said. He didn’t NEED Fiddleford. All he needed was-

He heard whispering. Mumbles. Faint. It was not uncommon for him to occasionally hear his Muse’s voice, but this sounded different. No doubt, it was from stress and lack of sleep. He’d be fine. He marched over to his desk in the basement and slammed his journal down on the table, open. He started to write furiously about Fiddleford’s resignation. His hand moved across the page as he scrawled in his neat cursive. He glared at the page.

Weak-willed hayseed. With his doting family-

Stanford’s angry expression started to soften a bit, and he reached up to cover his face with his hand. He had been friends with Fiddleford for years. How could this have happened? It was almost like history repeating itself. He felt loneliness pressing in on him, but he quickly dismissed it and tried to latch onto a bit of hope instead.

Fiddleford was not his friend, but he knew who was. Bill. Bill would explain everything. Bill would make it right. They could continue with the project. Maybe there was an error in the calculations that him and Fiddleford had missed that Bill would spot right away. He heard the whispering again, louder this time. His head throbbed, especially near to his eye. It was just from the stress of the situation. He’d be fine. He just needed to pop some aspirin, maybe a drink (or two), and he’d be set to continue his work.

He didn’t even make it to the elevator when his knees nearly buckled from the pain in his head, and the voices, and there was also howling now. Ghastly, unearthly howling as if it came from the bowels of hell itself. He propped himself up against the wall. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t just stress, was it? He had a Ph.D in Psychology. He couldn’t be having a psychotic breakdown. 

He paced a moment in his basement laboratory, then he picked up his journal and shut down the portal. He made his way to the elevator, putting a hand through his hair and wincing.

He ascended to the first floor of the shack, trying to ignore the whispering he could hear. He set about popping some aspirin and drinking a shot of brandy. Then, he poured himself another shot and made his way to his room. He set his journal down on his desk and began to write again about what he was hearing. The voices had died down somewhat, perhaps thanks to the drink, but they had not gone away.

Just as he finished a short paragraph, he heard something else. It was Bill’s voice this time. It came through clear.

(The door is open.)

The… door? Stanford felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. What was going on? Was all of this because of the portal? Had Fiddleford been right to fear it and- No, there had to be an explanation. Sleep. He needed to sleep. At this point, he was well-practiced at drifting into the mindscape that he could do it almost instantly.

Although, he had been in a hurry to sleep, now that he was actually in the mindscape, he felt unsure and nervous. He could still hear the voices, the howling, his muse. He walked up steps made of the books of his memories; they felt like lead. His stomach felt like lead. Heavy and cold.

He could see an unnatural tear in his mindscape where there hadn’t been one before. He could see shadowy figures, some of which were clearly grinning. And there in front of it all. Bill Cipher.

For a moment, he could only stare in stunned, fearful silence. Finally, he managed the courage to speak. His voice sound no less horrified, and a hint of betrayed feeling slipped through.

“Bill?” He said his muse’s name as if disbelieving that this could be the same muse he knew, trusted, and loved at all. “Did you… lie to me?”

Stanford still looked on, feeling overwhelmed by the emotions that were tearing through him at that moment. He clenched his six-fingered hands and thought about his former friend. Fiddleford. “Where does that portal REALLY lead?! What IS all this?” 

Anger and hurt slipped into his voice now, too. It was written all over his face, written all over his thoughts. Broken trust. Regret. Betrayal. Hurt.

  • Me, writing a sad starter for an established rp partner: 12 paragraphs and counting, prose, endless exposition, meaningful dialogue peppered throughout the piece,
  • Me, writing a non-sad starter for an established rp partner: 2 to 3 paragraphs, simple and to the point
  • Me, writing for a new rp partner who I'm really excited to write with: 'Hi,' he wav ed. 'Nice too meet you.'
Better With You By My Side

prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.

a/n: wow wtf i didnt realise how long this is sorry ogm i think i got a little carried away btu i hope it makes up for not updating last week tally ho



Chapter Thirteen

Dan lets what Phil had said stick in his mind for a little longer than he’d wanted it to.

And by that ridiculous understatement, he means it had completely and utterly consumed every conscious thought sitting in his mind, making it immensely difficult to try and think of anything else that wasn’t Phil, Ryan, or those fucking blue eyes.

Not your best, Daniel.” Mrs. Rotherham raises her eyebrows, dropping Dan’s History test on the table with a condescending clatter. He sighs, picking up and letting himself be met with the bold letter C glaring back at him in fierce red ink, causing his stomach to drop with the realisation of how much it’d been starting to affect his schoolwork. Granted, he’s not, and never had been the most focused of students, and he’d admit to spending more lesson time with his eyes glued to the window at whatever was happening on the other side of the glass rather than whatever dull information was being plonked onto the board in front of him, but it’d never affected him this much.

He gulps, nibbling his lip and shoving the paper into his bag with a rushed crumple before anyone else caught sight of his embarrassing grade; especially considering if he reached anything below that, he could kiss Welfeather, and a secure chance of an Oxford University application goodbye.

Well, at least he could return back to Fernhaven if that did end up happening.

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TalesFromYourServer: Lengthy Rant Regarding Creepy Old Fucks

Sorry for any formatting errors, I’m mobile. Also, apologies for the length of this tale. Tl;dr at the end.

So last night, about 5:00, this dude walks in and tells me he had a reservation for (name that isn’t anywhere on the books). I’m hosting so this dude is my fucking responsibility until he’s seated unfortunately. I tell him there is no reservation under the name, he says “oh, that’s fine, they probably didn’t make one” and goes back to having his phone in his nose and awkwardly standing RIGHT next to me at the host stand. I politely ask him how large is party is going to be, he just shakes his head and kind of shrugs. OK then.

He loiters around the dining room for about 45 minutes, around the host stand, the bar, the tables in the dining area, right in front of all the dishes and silverware I need to reset tables, etc. multiple times myself and others have to say “excuse me” because he is blatantly in the way/space of employees AND guests. In the 45 minutes he’s meandering around with his phone in his face, he ignores all of my offers to seat him, if he knows when his party is coming, if he’d like to wait at the bar and have a drink, etc. at one point he’s like “I don’t even know if I’m at the right location” which is understandable because there’s 3 of the restaurant chain in my city. The way he said it was so rude though, that dickass tone like I’m annoying him while he just fucking sits around and doesn’t eat, drink, buy anything, or even confirm that he’s actually eating here.

Finally, fucking finally, his face lights up from looking at his phone and he walks up to the host stand.

“I had a reservation for a party of 12 at 5:30.”

Ok, well, we already went over the fact that you have no reservation, so you can fuck off with that noise. Also, it’s nearly 6:00, so what the fuck are you even trying right now?

“You can get to setting up a table or room for us now.”

I give him my most sickening customer service smile and begin to set up a 3-table arrangement for what is essentially a WALK-IN 12top. Whatever, happens a lot, I’m numb to it mostly. I would have gotten over it quickly if it weren’t for the fact that I caught him taking a photo of me leaned over the tables, using flash and all, pointing his fucking phone camera right at my ass and grinning. He didn’t even acknowledge that I caught him, he just went immediately to poking and typing on his screen. I got the vibe he was sending it or some shit, really really grossed me out. I finish setting it up, I don’t even bother telling him it’s ready because I know he’s going to seat himself and I don’t want to fucking talk to him.

I tell my manager who is basically a team lead, just working as a closing manager alone. She’s the only female in management and as horrible as it is, she doesn’t do much because she doesn’t really know WHAT to do. I didn’t want to come right out and accuse the guy unless it escalated further, so we just rolled with it, and she stayed up front with me for awhile to make me feel better. Bad move. She’s a shapely lady with a lot of boob & butt and once his party starts showing up they take it as an opportunity to start hitting on BOTH of us.

So 12 of them get there in the midst of all of their middle-aged-pervert fuckery. Hour goes by, one of the dudes from the table comes up to me and says “there’s more of us coming, would you just push that table over there onto ours so we have more room?” I’m already pissed out of my mind, whatever dude. They all blatantly stare at my tits while I’m leaning over to open the leaf on the table I added.

More of them show up. One of them comes directly up to me, tells me his name, grabs my hands and rubs them telling me they’re cold while giving me the most uncomfortable prolonged eye contact. I’m like “haha yeah they’re always cold” violently jerks my hands away.

The server is losing his mind trying to get a DRINK ORDER out of all of these fucks. He can’t get their attention, they sit without drinks until they’re ALL there, which is literally over an hour. They finally pipe down, put in all of their food orders, and it all comes out.

My hot ass manager is setting down the food and they’re ogling her to the point that it is painfully obvious. Like gross dudes, what the fuck. She says “can I get you gentlemen anything else?” And the one says “I’d like a water. And a massage.” And she like visibly pukes in the back of her throat and walks away awkwardly laughing.

The whole time their table was there, they all made nasty comments, and various photos were taken with flash whenever my manager, me, or other waitstaff walked by. It’s hard to come out and accuse someone of being a creep like that, because there are small odds that they’re NOT taking creepshots…but dude. All signals pointed that direction.

Tl;dr pos guest stands around for 45 minutes until he decides to tell me there’s a large party coming in like right that moment. They sexually harass the staff all night and are a general pain in the ass to serve

Edit: they tipped like shit

By: stellarwatermelons

it had been a slow night for kimber, the type that practically drove her crazy with boredom. not many people had been ordering from the small pizza place where she worked so, as the designated delivery girl for the night, she hadn’t had much to do. at first she hadn’t really minded the lack of business, and she’d spent a good hour or two gossiping with the other employees and trying her hand at tossing the dough. there was only so much of that that the redhead could take, and she’d then moved on to tidying the kitchen just to keep herself occupied but tedious chores could only have held her attention for so long.

the order that came in towards the end of her shift was almost a blessing, and the second the food was ready kimber was racing out the door. it didn’t take long for her to reach her destination, pulling her car into the driveway before throwing it in park. she made sure to check her appearance before exiting the vehicle, knowing that if she looked a mess with flour and dough in her hair it would impact her tip. all but skipping down the walkway she came to an abrupt halt on the stoop, reaching out a hand to knock on the door. “pizza’s here!” kimber called out cheerfully.