and by enjoy i mean recoil in horror...but in a good way

Camping Antics – ArchiexReader! Mini Fic - Part One.

hey guys, so this is going to be an ArchiexReader! mini fanfic, probably with two or three parts! This was a prompt sent in by @sweetvengeancee so hopefully it does it justice haha. Part one is basically setting up the storyline :) If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please hit me up, and also send me some feedback in my ask! :)

Summary: (Y/N) and the others go camping, which leads to Archie and (Y/N) sharing a tent for a night ;)

Warnings: THIS FIC WILL CONTAIN SMUT. There are hints of smut in this part, but please be warned, that the second part will definitely be smutty. Could I say smut any more? Yes, yes I could.

PART TWO HERE.

Originally posted by capturingfandoms


PART ONE.

The sky was an inky, midnight blue with tiny pin-pricks of bright white. The chill in the air was evident by the visible clouds of our breath that enveloped our faces. We sat around the small campfire that Betty had expertly lit, and the smell of toasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

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Samsara [Part I]

General Disclaimer


As a medic, Sakura is probably more prepared for the various symptoms of pregnancy than the average woman. She’s studied the theory, administered pre- and postnatal care, and has delivered more than a few babies; at first it was only under the watchful eye of her mentor, but since she and Sasuke have been travelling to more remote villages, it’s an occupational hazard.

So, her own first trimester is about what she expects – it’s actually easier.

Morning sickness isn’t as bad as she worried it would be – in fact, it’s not so much morning sickness as random-moments-in-the-day sickness. Even then, it’s more gentle queasiness than anything else. There are only two mornings she spends with her face buried in a nearby bush, while Sasuke holds back her hair.

There are a few of her favorite foods that she can’t even think about without feeling nauseous. Still others cause her bizarre, desperate cravings she’s never experienced before (tomatoes! She can’t get enough tomatoes!). She also has to pee a lot more often which Sasuke is equal parts amused and irritated by depending on how much it delays their travel plans. And, good gods, she thought she was done getting pimples!

But what she wasn’t expecting were the dreams.

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I Love You, You Pay My Rent: Chapter Four

First Chapter (Prologue)

Previous Chapter (Chapter Three)


Nico had been living with Will for three and a bit weeks and in that time Will had never invited anyone one else round to their home. It was therefore a surprise when he woke up one morning and found a stranger in the kitchen. The stranger was wildly attractive, even with sleep messed hair. He was also shirtless.

Nico stared at the stranger. The stranger stared back.

“What up,” the stranger said by way of greeting.

Nico, not always rude but also definitely not a morning person, continued staring blankly in total incomprehension.

Will came out of his room then, thankfully not shirtless because Nico definitely would not have been able to deal with that, but looking incredibly rumpled and not at all with it. Will stopped and looked between Nico and the stranger. For some reason he seemed mildly alarmed. He must have thrown on clothes very quickly because his sweatpants were inside out and his tshirt was back to front. His hair was a complete mess too, more so than usual like he’d been running his hands through -

And finally it dawned on Nico what was going on and he couldn’t believe he had been so slow but he at least managed to stop himself blurting oh my god out loud.

“Oh god,” Will said.

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The Camp Crystal Lake Walker

A/N: This fic was done for @embracetheapocalypsewithme‘s 400 follower Negan challenge! My prompt was horror, so I decided to have Negan tangle with Jason Voorhees. I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2,028

Warnings: Swearing, monster showdowns, blood, gore, dismembered heads, death.

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

Originally posted by deathtown

“But when the boy went to open the car door for his girlfriend, there was… a bloody hook on the door handle!”

“Dwight, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Negan said with a groan.

“It’s kind of old too,” Arat chimed in as she kicked around some dirt at her feet.

“You all asked for a story, and I gave you one,” Dwight grumbled as he poked the wood in the campfire around with a stick.

“I thought it was good,” Joey chimed in.

Negan rolled his eyes. “No offense Fat Joey, but you couldn’t fucking say a mean thing about anyone, not even if someone was stealing your shit right in front of you.”

Simon had just returned with another armful of wood and tossed it next to the fire for later before taking a seat next to Negan. The five of them had gotten stuck on an overnight supply run and were trying to find ways to pass the time.

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Out Of Nothing At All - Fifteen

“Oh for fucks sake. SPENCER!!”

“What? What did I do now?” He poked his head round the kitchen door.

“What is that?” you pointed at the white powdery substance that was sprinkled over the kitchen counter.

“Sugar?”

“Do you want us to get infested with ants? I’ve told you time and time again you need to clean up after yourself, it’s not the same as being on the third floor. We’ll get bugs.”

“Sorry.” He grabbed some paper towels and some antibacterial spray and started cleaning up the mess that had no doubt been left there since he got up this morning.

Four weeks you’d been living together now.  And for the most part it was okay.

You hadn’t killed each other…. yet, and you’d actually found yourself enjoying his company more and more. It had been huge comfort to you having him there overnight, although you’d been back to the hospital for your check up and everything was now looking okay.

There had been four nights that you’d had to spend by yourself where he’d been required to be in the field, but Garcia had told you to call her straight away if you needed her. She’d offered to stay with you but you figured you needed to be a big girl and at least try. Your maternity replacement from Andy Swan’s unit, a chirpy woman named Kate, had transferred across early so you were free to stay at head quarters, helping Garcia and profiling via link up.

Reid wasn’t exactly a bad housemate, it was just….. weird living with him. And he had annoying little habits. Like coating the kitchen counter with sugar when he made his morning coffee or forgetting to get groceries when it was his turn. He wasn’t used to buying for two people either so when he did remember to pick stuff up, it was generally only enough for a few days as he’d only buy enough for one.

He also talked in his sleep and slept with his bedroom door open, so you could sometimes hear him rambling off random facts in the night. You’d walked past one night hearing “The word badger is said to derive from the French ‘bêcheur’ meaning ‘digger’.” When you’d asked him the next day if he’d been dreaming about animals last night, he just looked at you funny.

He left his books everywhere too. Like literally, everywhere. You’d woken up one morning to find one open, half way up the stairs, another one on the floor in front of the washing machine. When you’d been to his apartment, it had been so clean and tidy, but when you’d questioned him, he’d just shrugged. “I was bored when I waiting for my laundry.”

“And the stairs?”

“You have really comfy stairs. The carpet’s really soft and fluffy.”

You’d looked at him trying to work out what the hell went on in that brain of his, deciding to just not bother even asking. “Just clean up….. I can’t be bending down all the time to pick up after you.”

He’d nodded and apologised, and then seemed to make a conscious effort to put them away. You wondered for how long?

He also struggled with privacy and would just walk into your bedroom to talk to you whilst you were changing. His excuse, “I’ve seen you naked before” might have flown before but in the last few weeks your tummy seemed to have exploded and you were starting to feel really self conscious about the stretch marks that were appearing. When you’d told him this, he’d shrugged and gotten into his car, disappearing for half an hour.

When he returned it was with a CVS bag, containing cocoa butter and bio oil which he handed to you. You’d been mildly offended thinking he was suggesting that your stretch marks were bad, until you realised it was just him trying to actually be sweet and do something nice for you.

You were exhausted after work and left Reid cleaning the kitchen whilst you went for a bath. You’d grabbed food on the way home, eating it in the car.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day, you finally agreeing with Spencer to go and see your parents. He’d agreed to make the four hour drive with you. You could have flown at this stage still, but you felt some what uneasy and you could tell he did too.

Your mother had sounded surprised when you called her, announcing that you were coming for a visit and to get the guest rooms ready as you and your friend would be staying over.

You relaxed in the tub for a good hour before climbing out and pulling your pajama on. Needing a drink, you headed back downstairs hearing that Spencer was still up.

Peeking into the living room on your way back through, you saw he was watching yet another documentary about childbirth.

“I thought you had every aspect of this memorised by now?”

“I have.”

“So why are you watching another?”

He shrugged and you made the mistake of glancing at the screen just in time to see a very graphic image of a babies head crowning.

“Oh, I do not need to see this.”

“You probably should you know. Seeing as you’ve not been to any ante natal classes. Did you know that during birth your vagina will stretch to up to…… ”

“Shut up shut up shut up!!! Stop talking about my vagina.”

“Why…. It’s going to happen. You know it’s got to stretch to get her out.”

“Yes but I don’t need to know how much….. Oh god…..what if it never goes back to its normal size?” You’d avoided thinking about this up until now, but the image on the screen of those pink fleshy lips expanding and a head being forced out was making you recoil in disgust. And the noises the woman was making. Fuuuck, she sounded like someone was shoving a hot poker up her ass.

“Have you been doing your kegal exercises?

You weren’t listening. “What if it stays stretched? Ugh… Sex will never be the same again. Oh my god! What if it ends up…… baggy?” you whispered the last part in horror as Spencer started laughing.

“It won’t. It only stretches during birth. Although…. Some woman do tear or need an episiotomy.”

“A what now?”

“Sometimes the doctor has to make a small cut in order to help the baby get out easier.”

“NO ONE IS CUTTING MY VAJAYJAY.”

“Relax Y/N…. It’s a standard procedure, it’s done all the time. You’d be back to normal within a few weeks. Women have a large amount of elasticity down there. You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that! What if something goes wrong….. What if no one wants to have sex with me because it’s huge…. Oh my god Spencer!  You need to check it for me after…….I need to know if it feels the same afterwards or if she’s ruined it. If YOUR child has ruined my fuck hole.”

He was laughing hysterically now.

“It’s not funny Reid…. I’ve got stretch marks, my tits are probably gonna end up saggy and droopy and no one’s gonna want to fuck me because my vagina will be sooo baggy you can probably fit a watermelon in it…. It’ll be like Dirty Dancing… ‘I carried a watermelon’.. Yeah, in my fucking vagina!”

He was actually wiping away tears now so you walked over to him and whacked him with one of the couch cushions.

“Stop laughing….. This is a genuine concern. What if no one wants to bang me because my body is wrecked?”

He finally stopped laughing realising that as funny as what you were saying was, it was genuinely upsetting you.

“Y/N…..There will always be someone who thinks you’re attractive regardless of the stretch marks or the shape of your breasts or the state of your vagina. Trust me.”

“You can’t say that. You don’t know that.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, his mouth opening and then closing quickly. Giving you a small smile he continued. “Go to bed Y/N. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

He was right. You did.

One you were not looking forward to at all.

Samsara

SummarySakura’s words die in her throat as the man’s eyes shoot open, and the coldest red irises she has ever seen meet hers. She is hit by a wave of terrifying certainty about two things right then – that she knows these eyes better than any other and that, if he wanted to, this man could stop her heart with just a look. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 7 – Prompt: “The Past”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be squished by a Susanoo wielding demi god if you are found plagiarizing.

Warning:Spoilersfor pretty much everything up to NarutoGaiden.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place during the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch ofGold and Unplanned.

AN: Better late than never! You guys can decide for yourselves how much if this short series is something that could have happened, and how much of is my personal head canon. Also, I kind of went to town with the SasuSaku bits here, because I firmly believe that they have a loving and active married life.


As a medic, Sakura is probably more prepared for the various symptoms of pregnancy than the average woman. She has studied the theory, administered prenatal and postnatal care, and has even delivered a few babies. At first it was only under the watchful eye of her mentor, but since she and Sasuke have been travelling to more remote villages, it’s an occupational hazard.

Her first trimester is about what she expects – it’s actually easier.

Morning sickness isn’t as bad as she worried it would be – in fact it’s not so much morning sickness as random-moments-in-the-day-sickness. Even then, it’s more gentle queasiness than anything else. There are only two mornings she spends with her face buried in a nearby bush, while Sasuke holds back her hair.

There are a few of her favorite foods that she can’t even think about without feeling nauseous. Still others cause her bizarre, desperate cravings she never experienced before. (Tomatoes! She can’t get enough tomatoes!) And she has to pee a lot more often, which Sasuke is equal parts amused and irritated by depending on how much it delays their travel plans.

And good gods, she thought she was done getting pimples!

But what she wasn’t expecting were the dreams.

From her studies and conversations with other expectant mothers, she’s come to anticipate the nonsensical, the silly or even highly sexual. What she ends up experiencing within days of confirming her condition is bleak, eerie and a little depressing.

In the beginning, her dreams have a reoccurring theme.

Whenever she closes her eyes, she finds herself walking along a beach. The tide is always out, leaving a vast and barren expanse of sand and shallow pools of water. The sky is always grey and foreboding, bracketed by cliffs in the distance. The detail in this place is staggering, despite the fact she’s never spent much time on this seashore.

Or any seashore, really.

Konoha is landlocked, and even her experiences during the war didn’t give her much time to enjoy the coastline. Travelling with Sasuke, they have occasionally been to places like Kumo where beaches are more common, but never with express recreational purpose.

If there had been, she would never choose such a grey and dismal one as the one that plagues her unconscious.

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"Forever"

Where Magnus meets Alec’s reincarnation a few hundred years after his death.

Magnus boarded the hover-rail with the other commuters, sighing wistfully under his breath. He missed the ruckus and dirt of the old subway systems, with their colorful graffiti and even more colorful passengers, all pushing and grumbling and grinning, performing for tips, holding their bags out of the way and lurching drunkenly as the train thundered through the tunnels. He missed being smashed up against the bodies of his fellow New Yorkers, hastily grabbing the bar to keep his balance. He missed the grit and reality.

The hover-rails had been installed about seventy-five years ago, after the grid collapse and the oil shortages had finally forced humanity to turn to other power sources. It was very efficient, very clean, and very, very boring. 

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Potions Master

I said I would write for @happy-snape-week

Alas, I’ve been a little busy, so please accept this revamped, rewritten and slightly polished fic, as opposed to anything completely fresh.

This originally stemmed from an ask where someone wanted to see Snape’s talent for Potions being acknowledged, and him gaining his Potions Mastery on merit.


“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Ah, Severus,” Slughorn beamed at the student before him, as the rest of the NEWT class filed out of the dungeon.  “This way, my boy.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he followed Slughorn from the seventh year Potions classroom and into his sumptuous office.  Unlike Lucius, and Regulus, and countless other Slytherins, he’d never been invited into Slughorn’s office.  He’d certainly never had an invite into the Slug Club.  Not that this was a Slug Club invitation.  Not at quarter past four on a Tuesday.

Snape loitered awkwardly in the doorway, clutching his schoolbag against his slight frame. Slughorn turned from the ornate cabinet where he was pouring himself a drink, and waved Snape in.  “Do sit down, do sit down!”  

Snape shuffled forward, and Slughorn flicked his wand, causing the door to slam shut.  “A seat, Severus!” Slughorn repeated, as he sank heavily into his own chair.  

Snape approached the chair furthest from his housemaster, and slowly lowered his bag, perching himself on the very edge of the seat.  Slughorn frowned at the boy’s actions, and gave a small cough in displeasure, but did not comment.  He merely made a great show of summoning a side table and placing it before Snape, balancing his drink on it, and then pulling his own chair closer to the wary student.

“Now, my dear boy,” he started, “you are aware that you are supposed to attend a follow up session regarding your career choices?”

Snape didn’t answer.

“Accio,” Slughorn muttered, and a number of parchment pages flew through the air from his desk.  He quickly rifled through them.  “Where is it, where is it?  J…M…Parkinson, no, no, Rosier, no, aha!  Snape!”  He pulled one from the stack and held it triumphantly aloft, whilst banishing the rest to his desk. “Now, from your initial session before your OWLs…”

Slughorn fell silent as he stared in confusion at the blank parchment.  He turned it over, and back, and then over again.  Finally, he raised his head and looked at the sulky boy seated across from him.  “Ah, now, Severus.  This is a little embarrassing, but I don’t suppose I gave you the copy from your last session, did I?”

“I’ve never had a careers advice session, sir.”

“You’ve never ha-” Slughorn blustered, grabbing his handkerchief and running it dramatically over his forehead.  “You simply must have!  I see all the Slytherins!”

“Not me.  Sir.”  

Slughorn peered helplessly at the blank parchment before him.  “I’ve never…not once…I…”  He looked again at the boy before him, who was shifting awkwardly in his seat.  

“Can I go now, sir?”

“Why on earth didn’t you say something, boy?”

Snape sat silently, glaring at the ceiling, annoyed that he hadn’t been allowed to retreat to his common room.  He willed his housemaster to lose interest and cease his line of questioning.  When he eventually glanced back down and made eye contact, Slughorn was still peering intently at him.  Snape sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was low.  “I asked around.  The others said…”

“The others said what?”

He shrugged, as if it was of no importance, but his sallow cheeks filled with colour.  “They said that you didn’t offer career advice to half bloods.”

Slughorn thumped his fist against the small table between them.  “I OFFER CAREER ADVICE TO ALL!”

Snape tensed, and immediately gripped his wand.  Slughorn winced at the boy’s swift reaction.  

“No, no,” Slughorn said, quietly, placating him.  “I wasn’t angry with you.  Put your wand away, Severus.”  He stood, exhaled deeply, and strode over to the drinks cabinet.  He poured a generous measure of firewhisky into two fancy glasses. “Here,” he said, pressing one into Snape’s hand, who looked at it, eyes wide.

“Sir?”

“You’re of age, aren’t you, boy?”

“Sir.”

“Then drink.”  

Snape lifted the glass, almost recoiling as the fumes from the strong smelling liquid reached his nose. He looked at Slughorn, who had his own glass raised.

“Cheers,” said his teacher, and brought his lips to the rim of the glass.  

Snape did the same, and then his face twisted in anguish as the strong liquor burned his throat.  To his horror, he could feel a tear forming at the edge of his right eye.  He rubbed his sleeve against it, and when his vision cleared, he saw Slughorn smiling oddly at him.  

It was then that Snape noticed Slughorn’s glass was still full.  

“Ah, you youngsters. Always able to hold your liquor,” he laughed, and poured another generous measure into Snape’s now empty glass. “Still, I would take that one much more slowly, else this meeting will be over before it’s started.”  

Snape could feel his flush of embarrassment disappearing as he realised that Slughorn thought he’d swallowed his drink as a statement, and not simply through ignorance.  He nodded, and this time, took a small sip of the harsh liquid, and then placed the glass down on the table between them.

“Now,” Slughorn said, pulling out a quill with a flourish, and starting to write on the previously blank parchment.  “Tell me about your favourite subject.”

“Defence, sir.”

“And what do you like about Defence?”

“Creating spells.”

“Very good.  Am I then also to understand that you have an appreciation for Charms?”

Snape shrugged.  “It’s all right.”

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. “All right?  How can you expect to create your own spells if your charm work isn’t exact?”

“Professor Flitwick doesn’t allow us to experiment,” Snape said, simply.  “Three flicks this way, four flicks that way,” he grumbled.  “What if four flicks this way, and three flicks that way gave better results?”

“I believe that’s why Professor Flitwick is the teacher, Severus,” Slughorn said, trying to keep a hint of amusement from his voice, “and you are his student.”

Snape pursed his lips. “Anyway, Defence is better than Charms. I like duelling.  And learning how to control dark creatures.”

Slughorn peered at him over his paper.  “Controlling dark creatures?  I suppose you took Kettleburn’s class then?”  

“No, sir.”

“No?  May I ask why?”  

“It’s a bit too dangerous, sir.”

Slughorn snorted and took another sip of his drink.  “Indeed. Indeed.  And what else?”

“Herbology could be worse.”

“A glowing recommendation indeed,” Slughorn smiled.  “I will be sure to pass your critique to Pomona.”

Despite himself, Snape smiled back.  “I mean, it’s not bad or anything.  It’s not Divination, or Arithmancy-”

“Divination I can understand,” Slughorn said, cautiously, “But I am surprised to hear that you don’t enjoy Arithmancy.”

“I don’t believe in fortune telling.”

Slughorn gave a tight smile. “I am certain your teachers would disagree with the nature of their subjects.  Arithmancy, in particular, is practically a science-”

Snape snorted. “Ancient Runes is a better way to spend your time.  You can learn a lot from ancient magic.”

“So, Defence and Ancient Runes are your favourite subjects?  With,” Slughorn gave a quick half smile, “Charms being regarded as ‘all right’ and Herbology ‘could be worse’?”

“I didn’t mean it like that about Herbology.  I still wouldn’t want to do it as a career, but I can see it’s useful.”

“Useful for…?”

“Potions, sir. Obviously.”

“Ah, Potions.  I was hoping you would say that.  You had me worried there for a moment.”

“Sir?”

Slughorn smiled kindly. “You are a fan of my subject, are you not, Severus?”

“Yes, sir.  It’s my favourite.”

“Not Defence?”

Snape paused, considering. “Both,” he said, finally.  “I like them both the same.”

“Well, you have a certain amount of talent when it comes to Potions.  When you’re not blowing up your cauldron, that is.”

“Sorry, sir.”  

Slughorn stopped writing. “In fact, it amazes me that a boy who has such a grasp of the theory – and your essays, Severus, are nothing short of excellent-” Snape flushed at Slughorn’s words, not used to receiving such high praise.  Slughorn stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “-it astounds me that you cannot grasp the practical.”

“It’s not that I can’t brew,” Snape muttered, a note of petulance in his voice.  

“The simple potions, certainly,” Slughorn conceded.  “I recall that you were rather competent up until your OWL year.  You used to sit next to Lily Evans, didn’t you?” he said, a small smile creeping across his face.  “Perhaps we should re-arrange the seating so-”

“No!  Don’t!” Snape’s vehement response caused Slughorn to raise an eyebrow.

“Very well.  However, I shall say it plainly:  your NEWT examiners will not take kindly to you exploding the contents of your pewter across the classroom.”  Slughorn tried not to roll his eyes as he watched the angry young man grab his bag and rummage through it.  

“Severus,” Slughorn continued loudly, “unfortunately, as impressive as your understanding of the theoretical is, there isn’t much call for wizards who cannot practice what they preach.  Even, I fear, the Ministry would not be intereste…”  Slughorn trailed off as an intricately annotated textbook was thrust before him, Snape’s thin hand trembling slightly as he held it.

“What’s this?” Slughorn said, taking the proffered book.  He turned the book at an angle, staring at the tiny cramped writing that filled the page. “Thirteen Sopophorous beans?  Crushing them instead of cutting?”  He looked back at Snape, his brow furrowed.  “Clockwise as well as anti-clockwise?”  

“It works.  Sir.”  

Slughorn flicked through the rest of the book, noting the cramped but detailed instructions littering each and every page.  He stood, abruptly, and clicked his fingers, motioning for Snape to follow him back into the classroom.

“Brew.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to brew,” Slughorn said, simply.  “I am going to brew, and you are going to brew.  Get the ingredients from the cupboard.”  He stared at the unmoving boy.  “Well? Come on!  Twelve beans for me, thirteen beans for you.”

Snape nodded.  He almost dropped one of the jars in the storeroom, and he hastily wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his robes before taking a deep breath and continuing.  He laid the ingredients out on the desk, whilst Slughorn gathered the equipment.  Together, under Slughorn’s watchful eye, the young boy brewed using his amendments.

An hour later, Slughorn stared in shock at the perfect potion produced by his student.  “In under an hour,” he noted, glancing at his watch.  “Severus, this is…something special.”

“Sir.”

“And the rest of your book? You’ve done this with other potions?”

Snape shrugged non-committedly.  “Some are better than others.  I can only experiment in class.”

Slughorn tapped his finger against his lips.  “Interesting. You try out the most dangerous things under my guidance?  And that’s why you often blow up your cauldron?”

Snape looked down at his shoes, his voice barely more than a whisper.  “Notyourguidancesir.”  

“Sorry?”  Slughorn stared intently at Snape, but the boy didn’t speak again.  “Please don’t mumble, Severus.  Enunciate!”

“It’s not your guidance, sir.”  He glanced up, and saw Slughorn frowning.  He quickly glanced down.  “It’s the most expensive things, sir,” he muttered, his voice dropping again.  

Slughorn stared at his student.  “Are you telling me that you don’t experiment because you cannot afford the ingredients?”

Snape’s cheeks flushed. “I am not like the other Slytherins. Sir.”

“I am aware of your background,” Slughorn said, awkwardly.  “You are telling me that you could make these refinements to other potions, but you cannot experiment because you do not have access to the ingredients?”

Silence.

“Answer me!  Is that right, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”  

“Every Monday and every Wednesday,” Slughorn said, a note of finality in his tone, “you will come to this office and practice your potions.”

“But sir-”

“No arguments, Severus,” Slughorn said, waving him out of the classroom.  “I will see you here on Wednesday.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful, sir – but what about Quidditch, sir?”  Snape blurted out, desperately.

“Quidditch, Severus?” Slughorn struggled to prevent a hearty laugh escaping.  “I didn’t think you were so inclined.”

“I don’t mind it,” he said, defensively.  “I’m not that keen on flying on a broom, but…”

“But?”

“We’re short, sir.” Snape grimaced.  “We’re down four players since Ave, Mulc, Reggie and Ev got in that brawl last week, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Hooch suspended them for the rest of the year.  You know what Ev’s like when it comes to Quidditch.  He’s said that the rest of us have to turn up to practice, no excus-”

“Enough,” Slughorn said, raising his hand.  “I don’t need to know about the Quidditch tactics of Evan Rosier.  Very well.  You shall attend my classroom on Mondays and Fridays, leaving your Wednesdays free for Quidditch practice.”

Snape hoisted his bag over his shoulder, still looking anxious.  “What about the others, sir?  What should I tell them?  They’ll think you’re giving me preferential treatment if I just turn up here.”

Slughorn smiled.  “I would suggest blowing your cauldron up during the next lesson.  I can easily hand you a detention for a term or two.”

“Sir.”

“Oh, and Severus?”

“Sir?”

“Make it good, won’t you?”


For once, it wasn’t his own cauldron that erupted.  At the start of the lesson, Snape purposely flung a flobberworm across the room, causing Potter’s cauldron to impressively spew its contents three feet into the air, and across four tables.  Moments later, Snape deliberately threw a bezoar towards Potter’s neighbour, catching Black’s hand as he was in the midst of carefully dribbling precious Dragon’s blood into his mixture.

The fallout was unforgettable.  Legendary, even.  Students yelled and screamed, cauldrons were spilled, and ingredients were flung aside. Without exception, each and every student pointed at Snape when Slughorn’s shouting reached crescendo, and for Snape’s part, he laughed loudly – impudently – as Slughorn issued him with detention.  His mirth only abated when Slughorn lost his temper, and finally shouted that due to his ongoing impertinence, Snape had lost two nights a week for the rest of his Hogwart’s career.

Vengeance was sweet. Snape was still smirking to himself as he sauntered out of the classroom, pleased that he’d managed to make use of Slughorn’s instruction and upset both Potter and Black at the same time. He pulled up short when he saw Lily waiting outside the classroom with Potter, her expression furious.  Instantly, Snape’s smile dropped, and he self-consciously pulled his shoulder bag tight to his body.

“You’ve really changed.”

“Says you,” Snape retorted, hotly.  

“Look at his face!” Lily pointed to the marks on James’ cheek where the potion had splattered against him.  “You could’ve disfigured him.”

“Disfigured him?!  It was only a Mandrake and a few Flobberworms,” he snapped.  “It’ll wear off by tomorrow.”  He glared at the pair, and muttered under his breath, “I’d have used Bubotuber pus if I wanted to disfigure him.”

“You’re lucky Slughorn gave you such a harsh punishment, Snivellus, else I’d be reporting this to Dumbledore,” hissed James.

“Go ahead,” Snape sneered. “I’m sure he’ll be shocked that a Slytherin wannabe Death Eater would do such a thing to our beloved Head Boy.”

“Ignore him, James!” Lily pulled on her boyfriend’s arm before he could retort.  Snape wasn’t certain whether she had already grown tired of their argument – tired of him, even - or whether the mention of James’ Head Boy status reminded her that they both had far more to lose than Snape did if their disagreement turned physical.

He felt as if all of the colour had drained from the world when she shook her head and looked him straight in the eye with burning hatred.  “I was so wrong about you.  There’s just no reasoning with you anymore.”  She barged past him, her elbow purposely digging into his ribs as she dragged her boyfriend behind her.

James allowed himself to be pulled along, but ran his wand over his throat, and pointed at Snape whilst mouthing, “You’re dead.”

Snape sank back against the cold stone wall, watching silently as the pair fled up the dungeon stairs, hand-in-hand.  His efforts had almost been worth it, but the distaste in Lily’s eyes had rather ruined his rare moment of triumph.


Snape’s heart skipped when he walked into the dungeon.  He’d nervously paced outside for several minutes before pushing the door; he knew Slughorn was well respected, and seemed honourable enough – but then, Snape had witnessed too much disappointment to consider any promises a sure thing. He’d half expected the door to swing open and to be confronted with the cauldron scrubbing detention that his classmates believed him to be attending.

Instead, to his pleasure, he saw a long line of ingredients covering the bench, and he almost tripped over his shoelaces in his haste to start work.

True to his word, Slughorn provided all of the ingredients Snape required - even those which he hardly dared touch, knowing from his days in Hogsmeade with his nose pressed up against the glass of Slug and Jiggers that they’d cost someone – Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Slughorn himself, even – a small fortune.  He wasn’t about to blow his opportunity be being greedy or irresponsible.

The first few weeks were fantastic, and Snape made subtle refinements to several potions, and overhauled half a dozen more – but then, Slughorn slipped.  Black earned himself a week’s worth of detentions after tripping Snape in class, causing his carefully brewed potion to splash over the floor, melting one of the flagstones in the process.  Without thinking the action through, Slughorn carelessly issued Black with a week’s worth of detentions – which meant that Snape had to put up the pretence of a real detention.  

Scrubbing out cauldrons would’ve been an unpleasant enough job, but it was made many times worse having to share a bench with a braying, mocking Black – let alone losing his evening of experimental brewing.  Thankfully, Slughorn realised his mistake and let Black off on Thursday night with a stern warning, and a lament about how sincerely sad he was that he hadn’t had Sirius in Slytherin like the rest of his family.

Black had been his usual subtle self, crowing loudly with Potter about how he’d evaded detention, whilst Snape was having to endure months for his earlier transgression – but Snape was so relieved to hear that he’d got his Friday experimentation day back, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  


“Excuse me, Professor,” the first year said, breathing heavily at the doorway of the Transfiguration class.  “Professor Slughorn says that Severus Snape must report to his office immediately.”

“This is most irregular,” Professor McGonagall said, drawing herself up to her full height.  “What’s this about, Severus?”

“I don’t know, Professor,” Snape replied, honestly.  He looked at the Hufflepuff in the doorway.

“I don’t know either, Professor,” said the young Hufflepuff, “but Professor Slughorn and Professor Dumbledore are together and waiting.”

“Well,” said Professor McGonagall, slowly, “if Professor Dumbledore has requested such a thing, then we must acquiesce.  Severus, collect your things, and you can return here tonight after dinner to continue your classwork.”

“I’ve got Quidditch pract-”

“Tonight,” McGonagall said, raising her voice, “or you do not have permission to leave now.”

“Yes, Professor. Tonight, Professor.”

“Good, now go.”  

Severus scooped up his papers, and – arms full - followed the Hufflepuff down the corridor. “What’s this about then?”

“Dunno,” replied the Hufflepuff.  “But Slughorn looked very excited.  He gave me a whole box of crystallised pineapple for coming to get you.”


Taking a deep breath, Snape knocked on the door to the Potions classroom and was surprised when Professor Dumbledore swept the door open.  “Ah, Severus.  Do come in.”

He stepped into the room, past Dumbledore and his eyes widened when he saw the man standing at the back of the room.  Slughorn appeared to be bursting with pride.

“This is the boy?”

“Severus Snape,” Slughorn said, urging Snape forwards to shake the hands of the guest.  

“Snape?”  The man raised his eyebrows as he pulled out of the handshake.  “Can’t say I’ve heard that before.”

Snape glowered. Malfoy was right; this was what his life was going to be like – forever cursed by a Muggle moniker.  

“Ah, Libatius, what’s in a name?” said Professor Dumbledore.  “I do believe Horace invited you here for a demonstration?”

“Sir?”

Slughorn placed a hammy hand on Snape’s bony shoulder.  “This boy can do things with a cauldron that will make your head spin.”

“I doubt that very much,” said Borage, scowling.  “Horace, my dear fellow, you have been inviting me here for years.  Each year you promise so much, yet your students deliver so little.  I have told you my terms before, and yet you still insist on this charade.”  

“This time,” Slughorn pronounced, proudly, “you’ll see.”

“Hmmph.”


“Now, Severus,” Dumbledore said, firmly, “I believe you have an appointment with Professor McGonagall?”

Snape glanced down at the watch Lucius Malfoy had gifted him for his seventeenth birthday.  “Yes, sir.”  How had he missed dinner?  He’d been working for hours on end.  He collected his bag and he quietly approached Slughorn and Borage, who were peering over several of his cauldrons.  “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said, holding his hand out.  Borage nodded, and Snape had the feeling that he’d been utterly dismissed.

“Off you go, Severus,” Slughorn said kindly, and with a sinking stomach, Snape departed.

“Severus?”

Snape turned at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice.  The Headmaster passed him a note.  “Pass this to Professor McGonagall, please, Severus.”

“Sir.”


Professor McGonagall scanned the note, her expression not betraying her feelings.  “Very well,” she said, calling a house elf and passing the note to it. A moment later, the house elf returned with a spread of food from that night’s feast.

“It appears, Mr Snape, that you missed dinner.  I thought I did not see you in the Great Hall tonight.  I have been informed that you are to eat whilst you study, although please do not smear any sauces on your paper. I refuse to mark parchment that is covered in food.”  

He sprawled across the desk, his nose close to the parchment as he filled the page full of his tiny, cramped writing.  McGonagall rolled her eyes; no matter what scathing comments she wrote on his essays, he always managed to turn in more than was necessary.  There was simply no dissuading the boy from his research.

After an hour, she stood, and dismissed the Slytherin.  “I’m sorry about Quidditch,” she huffed, “but your classwork is more important.  There are only a handful of games left in the season, of course.”  

Snape nodded, but as he stood to leave, the door burst open.  “Well done, my boy!” Slughorn boomed, marching in to the room.  

“Horace!”

“Minerva!” Slughorn returned her greeting bombastically, mistaking McGonagall’s annoyance for enthusiasm.  “Now Severus, down to the dungeons and gather your things.  Professor Dumbledore is making the necessary arrangements with your parents as we speak!”

“Sir?”

“Horace, what on earth is this about?”

“Libatius Borage wants you as an apprentice, Severus.”

Snape’s knees went weak, and he gripped the desk before him.

“The pay is a little ungenerous, but then, that’s Libatius for you,” Slughorn admitted.  “What you’ll pick up in experience, knowledge and connections – well, my boy, that’s priceless.  Priceless!”  

“He’s not sat his NEWTs,” McGonagall said disapprovingly.  “You’ll affect the boy’s career if he leaves without them.”

“Oh, Libatius has agreed to special dispensation,” Slughorn said, waving his hand.  “Details, details.  With an apprenticeship under Borage, young master Snape here won’t want for anything else.”

“I’ll be a Potions Master, sir?”

“Indeed, Severus. You’ll be a Potions Master.”  

bearlytolerable-deactivated2017  asked:

For DWC: 8. Better by far you should forget and smile / Than that you should remember and be sad [Remember, Christina Rossetti] Solavellan please?

@bearlytolerable this definitely calls for some Solavellan! ^_^

For @dadrunkwriting

Non-canon, set at the end of Trespasser.


Better by far you should forget and smile / Than that you should remember and be sad [Remember, Christina Rossetti]

Forget That You Had Memories, Lover Mine

“I have something to tell you.” Both Lavellan and Solas spoke at the same time, the two breaking into a soft laugh.

“You go first,” Lavellan smiled shyly up at him.

“I… I wanted a way to show you how I feel about you, vhenan. You have become important to me… more important than I could ever have imagined. And… the best gift I can give you… is the truth.”

“The truth?” she asked, confused.

He should have told her then. Not the lie he had spouted at the last minute, in his moment of panic. He had only wanted to protect her, he told himself. He did not want her to walk the dinan’shiral as he did. He wanted to keep her as far away from it as he could.

But…

He had given in to his weakness, to her, and in doing so had damaged her irrevocably.

“You have said your truth, Solas. Or is it Fen’harel?” she mocked. “It seems fitting, that I fell in love with the Trickster, for is that not what you did to me? You tricked me into falling in love with you, fooled me into thinking you felt the same, and then, one day, when all was right in my world, when I looked up at you and saw happiness, what did you do? You shattered me. You broke my heart, you broke me, and…” she choked out, “worst of all, you took from me the only piece of you I had.”

No. It could not be. He looked at her in horror.

“Yes,” she spat viciously. “That night in Crestwood… I was going to tell you I was pregnant. That I was carrying your - our - child. But I never got a chance to. You walked away from us. So easily, you left me there, you abandoned me and your child. Perhaps that was your intention all along!”

“What…” his voice was hoarse, “the child… what-?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know, do you?” Her voice was cold, so cold he shivered from it. “Do you remember when we fought Corypheus? How I shouted for a barrier? You hesitated… I bet your attention was on the orb, not me. Corypheus struck me, and I fell… the impact…” she started sobbing, her cries of anguish piercing his heart, “I lost him,” she wept. “I returned to Skyhold, and you were gone, and then my baby was gone, and I was alone, all alone.”

Vhenan…” if he could have set himself aflame, he would have. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He should not have left her.

“But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? I gave you my love, and it wasn’t enough. I gave you my heart, and it wasn’t enough. I gave you my body, my everything, but nothing I had was good enough to make you stay. You took everything from me, everything. And now, after two years of nothing, you are here again, and this time, you take my arm. To save me, you say, to keep me from dying, but who are you to make that call, Solas? Especially when you have decided that this world must come to an end! Why do you insist I keep living? Is it because you enjoy seeing me suffer?”

“No, vhenan, never, I never want you to suffer. I… I thought if I left, it would keep you safe…”

“Safe from what? Tell me, since your spy network has clearly kept tabs on me, tell me what it was that I needed to be kept safe from? Were you there when I fought the Avvar god Hakkon? Were you there when we ventured the Deep Roads, dawkspawn at every turn, to fight the Titan? No, you were not. So what exactly did I need protection from?”

“I walk the dinan’shiral, vhenan. I would not have you see what I become.”

Her laugh was bitter. “See what you become? But I have already seen what you have become! You are a man who would rather break the heart of his lover and abandon her and his child to serve his own desires. You are a man whose eyes are drawn to power, not to the people he has to protect. You are the man who took my child from me,” she shrieked, “and who has destroyed any chance of happiness for me!”

Vhenan, please, listen to me, I did not mean to, I love you,” tears clouded his vision until the outline of her form was a haze.

“Why should I? Did you listen to me when I begged you to stay?”

“I did not know… if I had known, if you had told me then…”

“If I had told you, you would have felt obliged to stay,” she scoffed. “I did not want someone to stay by my side out of a sense of duty.”

“I’m sorry,” he knelt in front of her, his hand at the nape of her neck, pressing his forehead to hers. “I swear, I would have stayed if I had known, I love you…”

“But just loving me wasn’t enough to keep you, Solas, so how am I to believe that you would have stayed if you knew I was with child?”

“You cannot believe me so heartless,” he pleaded.

“I do,” she spat. “You want to end this world, do you not? Only someone without a heart would want to do that.”

“I wish to restore the People,” he tried to explain, “I have cost them so much. It was all my fault, and I must rectify it.”

“By causing the death of everyone in this world? Go ahead,” she mocked, “destroy this world like you destroyed our baby.”

He recoiled in horror. “You… I… how… how can you say that?”

“It is true, isn’t it? You were more concerned about the orb than you were with me. So go ahead, Fen’harel, destroy this world like you did me. Perhaps that will bring you happiness, since I - and our child - were not enough.”

He was dying. Her words sliced through him, the bitterness and pain and self-hate that coated them poisoning the wounds, slowly seeping into his blood.

Vhenan,” he begged. “Please, I beg you, tell me what I need to do so you can be happy once more.”

Her shoulders slumped, and her head drooped. “Just end me, Solas,” she said, her voice so soft he could only just hear what she said. 

“I cannot,” a shudder came over him as he thought of her pale, lifeless body spread out on the ground.

She shrugged. “Sooner or later, you will,” she looked up at him with a sad smile. “If you end this world, and I am part of this world… do the math, Solas. You’re smart.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said earnestly.

“I don’t think I know how to, anymore,” she admitted.

He had brought down to this, a shell of the person she once was, and of all the things he hated himself for, this was the worst of it.

“I can help,” he said softly. Unable to resist the temptation, he captured her lips, the kiss soft, gentle and filled with all the love he had for her - the love that he should have shown her before now, when it was too late. He poured his apologies into his, his hopes and dreams for her, and, as her eyes fluttered shut, he cupped her face between his hands and pushed his magic into her mind, delving deep into it and pulling out the threads within the tapestry of her memories that bore his name.

When he had removed every last one that was related to the love they had once shared, the love they had for each other, he drew back, his heart clenching with searing pain as he watched them dissipate into the wind.

“What-” she began, confused, but he shushed her gently.

“Sleep, ma lath,” he said softly as he lulled her to sleep. “I will never forget you.”

The Song Remains the Same: A Well Timed Recap

Then:

Dean’s mom is a babe. He apparently (but not really) still feels this way: @tinkdw awesome analysis of 12x18.

Now:

Dean’s enjoying a nice dream with a dark haired, blued eyed fantasy when Anna busts up the fun times. Awkward. Anna rats out Cas ratting her out, and tells Dean to meet her at an abandoned warehouse.

Instead of meeting the Winchesters, Anna finds Cas.

Cas doesn’t trust Anna’s release from Heaven’s prison, and regrets his previous actions. He questions her actions. She cuts right to the chase: “Sam Winchester has to die.” Okay then.

Cas will not help Anna. He will not kill a friend. Anna vanishes. Cut to two kids lighting up and making out in a Trans Am, and Anna suddenly appearing and falling on the hood.

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Face

Summary: Sometimes, Saitama just needs to accept that Genos usually knows best. 

Author’s notes: Soooo I WAS going to update a fuck ton this weekend and then anxiety attacks happened. But better late than never, right? 

Anyway, this has been on my mind for a while and after a brief conversation with the awesome @fenrisfire I figured I would finally sit down and write this already. 

Also, this is basically becoming a continuation of this which quickly became a continuation of these and I borrowed the stubble!Saitama idea from @cinensis and added a couple of head canons that popped in my head as I wrote it. 

(and I’m also tagging @caped-ace because you earned yourself some fluffy reading material, pal!) 

(I may need to add a separate link on my blog for this set of ficlets since they’re kind of turning into a…well…actual fic. But so far I don’t have a specific plot attached other than Genos and Saitama are fucking adorable and extremely domestic so. We’ll see~)

You can also read here at Ao3!



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anonymous asked:

oh dear god please do the "soulamte au where you can't lie to your soulmate' for hayffie! it would be hilarious (or possibly horribly painful... depending on when its set ahahah)

So today is the day I reach chapter 400. I’m not sure how long exactly I will be able to keep up with this without people getting bored but as long as we’re all having fun… Hey! Let’s try to reach 500. That would be a record probably.

I just hope everyone is still enjoying the stories. There is something called quitting while you are ahead or more likely stopping before something becomes crap… I just hope I am not on the “becoming crap” slope. I wrote so many… Am I repeating myself? Is this getting boring? I love hayffie so much it’s unhealthy but I would hate to write them badly or to bore you to tears.

Anyway, today is chapter 400 so you get a prompt that isn’t the oldest in line but that particularly inspired me and that I enjoyed writing very much. [X]

A Claim & A Promise

Everyone has a soulmate.

That’s a given.

However, Panem is a huge country, a huge compartmented country. The odds of finding one’s soulmate are never in one’s favor and they aren’t made any easier by the Hunger Games that kill a bunch of kids every year.

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The Shovel Talk: Prelude

Yes, that’s right, this is just a prelude to this story.  Another TVD/Avengers crossover, which is unrelated to Iron Man’s Daughter, but still uses the “Caroline as Tony’s daughter” thing.  In this, Caroline was raised in NY by Tony (and Pepper… probably more Pepper).  TVD progressed as it did, except no Caroline, and Klaus went to NO, except no baby.  This takes place during Cap America: Winter Soldier.  This prelude is a little heavy, but the rest will be more light-hearted.  It was written on willowaus‘s request.  Also for livingdeadblondequeen, klarolineepiclove, goldcaught, ravenclawslibrary, and klarolineforevermine

The blonde was probably pretty, when she wasn’t so bloody.

               The observation was made almost distantly. Klaus was still half caught up in blood lust and anger at the fools that had dared to try and harm him.  They were all dead, ripped to pieces or drained dry in order to heal him.  He wasn’t sure who had sold him out – his best guess was Marcellus, or perhaps the treacherous little Hayley whom had been sniffing around the bayou – but they would pay dearly, just as these foolish men had.

               “Are you here to kill me?”

               The voice was weak, but almost sharp, and for a moment Klaus was confused, not seeing anyone around that could have spoken. Then he looked at the blonde once more, strapped to the table with bruises and haunted eyes, and he realized that it had been her voice he had heard.  He had thought her unconscious, her slow heartbeat telling him she wasn’t dead, but her shallow breath making him think she wasn’t conscious.  

               “Do I have a reason to kill you?”

               The girl looked at him, and he thought her rather foolish, looking at him such defiance when they were surrounded by his massacre.  But her hazel eyes… they had a light to him, one that he had seen in very few in his thousand years of life.

               “Do you need one?”

               Klaus stalked up to her and looked down.  She was strapped to the table at writs, ankles, neck, and forehead.  They were simple leather straps that he could have easily broken, but this girl was human. Instead, he could see the signs of her struggle written into her skin – angry red burns where she had strained at the straps until they bit into her skin.  He should leave her.  She was no business of his, and he needed to get back to his city and the traitors it harbored.

               But there was something in her gaze…

               She recoiled when he reached down, but Klaus ignored it, instead giving the straps tugs that easily set her free.  When she realized that he wasn’t going to harm her, she looked up at him in confusion.

               “Why?” was all she asked.

               “You have fire to you.  I can appreciate that.”

               He looked at her, the bruises and shallow cuts and the dark bags under eyes.  He contemplated what he was considering for a moment before he let his fangs drop.  The girl gulped, staring up at him, but didn’t recoil this time.  He wondered if that was a sign of bravery, or if movement was simply too painful.  

               “Drink up love,” he said, holding his wrist to her mouth, and she stared up at him in horror.  Klaus sighed heavily, and forced the blood into her mouth, not in the mood to deal with a foolish girl that feared the unknown.  She coughed, trying to spit the blood back out, but enough went down that she began to heal, and he gave a slight nod.  “There you go.  All better.”

               “What the hell?” she murmured, staring at her healing arms with awe.  He saw, as her bruised face faded back to clear skin, that she was a pretty girl without the wounds.  She was young – in her late teens or early twenties – and her skin seemed to glow, now that it was healed.  He paused for a moment to look at her, and her head snapped up so she could stare at him in return.  He saw the flare of fear, because his blood had healed her, and she didn’t know it was possible.  But rather than scream or swoon as many humans he encountered did, he watched as she swallowed, her delicate throat bobbing, and then tilted her head proudly, stiffening her spine.  “Thank-you.”

               She pushed herself off the table and held onto the edge, as if uncertain her legs would be able to hold her weight.  When they kept her upright, she took a careful step away, then another, gaining more confidence as she realized that, with his blood, she had been fully healed.  Klaus watched her, quirking his head and feeling somewhat surprised. There was no what are you? or who are you? from the delicate girl.  After a moment, once she was sure on her feet, she bent down to one of the massacred bodies and removed a gun from it.  He watched with some surprise as she held it and looked over it with the eye of someone that knew what she was doing, before turning to him.

               “Do you know how we get off of this thing?”

               Klaus didn’t reply at first, more interested in trying to figure this girl with the cool hazel eyes out.  She wasn’t nearly as panicked as he had expected.  Then he heard shots from down a hall, and reminded himself that they were not alone on this aircraft, and that there were still more men to kill.

               “This way,” he said, motioning toward the door. “Although you may not wish to accompany me.  I’m afraid there are still more that I wish to see dead.”

               “They had me strapped to that table, tor… torturing me” – a shiver ran through her body, as though she recalled what had been done, and shadows danced in her eyes – “I want them dead too.”

               “Blood thirsty.” Klaus felt a smirk quirk his lips as he watched the girl check that the safety on the gun was off.  “What’s your name, Love?”

               “Caroline,” she replied shortly.  

               “And I am Klaus.” He looked to the door as another gun went off, and then smirked at her once more.  “Shall we?”

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anonymous asked:

Do you think you could write a yoosung fic where MC gets sad because her boyfriend dumped her, and then yoosung cheers her up with a kiss? IDK i just thought it would be cute :)

(part 2) AHH I WAS THE YOOSUNG FIC WHERE MC GOT DUMPED I JUST REREAD THE REQUEST SORRY YOU CAN CHANGE MC TO SEVEN IM SO SORRY AHHHH

No worries my friend!! Thank you for the request! And awaaaaaay we go

———————————————————————–

Honestly, Yoosung doesn’t know why Seven keeps inviting people over if he’s not going to tell them how to get through the goddamn door.

“I still don’t know Arabic, Seven!” Yoosung called out, staring directly at the security camera that’s swiveling above him, tracking his movements. “Can’t you just let me in? You invited me here in the first place!”

The expected taunts from the security cam’s microphone don’t come. Instead, he hears a click as the door unlocks, and a buzz in his pocket.

A message from Seven, reading only: it’s open.

Okay, something is definitely up.

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The Wolf of Wall Street: Review

So I just got back from seeing The Wolf of Wall Street, and it really was a great movie. I totally understand why the film and it’s stars are winning and being nominated for all of these awards. It was funny, and over the top, and incredibly vulgar, but on the whole I enjoyed it very much. However a side effect of my movie viewing experience, is that it may have made me lose faith entirely in the human race.

Now that may sound to you like an overreaction, and maybe I would agree, after all it’s only a movie. But the reason I say that is not because of the movie itself, but because of the reaction to the movie by the people in the theatre.

[spoilers under cut]

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