barely salvageable

Silent (Soulmate!Thomas Jefferson - Part One)

Originally posted by youforfeitallrights

A/n: My friend is on an internship in New York, and she has tickets to see Hamilton… which got me thinking… I was bored and procrastinating… and I hadn’t written a soulmate AU in years… I need to reclaim my title as soulmate queen. (Also, apologies, I don’t know the tags for this fandom, sooo… This is a thing right?) 

Soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you appear on your arm. Written in third person. Starts in James Madison’s POV then shifts to Thomas Jefferson. No warnings other than Thomas has a bad attitude. 

Part Two     Masterlist

There are three facts about Thomas Jefferson of which James Madison was absolutely certain: 1) Thomas Jefferson does not have a soulmate. 2) Thomas Jefferson doesn’t want one. 3) It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t.

James had known Thomas for many years now, and he doubted any living person knew the man better. Even so, it didn’t take an expert to know Thomas’s view on the subject. Any person with eyes could look down at Thomas’s arm and see it lay bare of words. Any person who’d had a conversation with him on the subject could see he didn’t want to find any words there, and every person who’d ever encountered Thomas, even in passing, had likely come to the same conclusion as James. It was for the best. The universe was saving whatever poor woman would have been latched to him from a life playing second fiddle to Thomas’s ambition and hubris.  

Looking across the banquet hall, James could see Alexander Hamilton, who had been deep in conversation with Thomas for much of the afternoon, coming to those same conclusions. Hamilton had been among the first batch of people to approach Thomas when he arrived, and James barely salvaged a moment to warn Thomas of the situation before he dove into a lengthy discussion with the young immigrant.

James couldn’t decide whether he was amused or terrified. The pair seemed to be amicable enough at the moment, but that could change in a flash. Hamilton and Jefferson were both as stubborn as each other, and they were both fully equipped with sufficient verbal ammunition to break out into an all-out war right in the hall. James had a sneaking suspicion the only reason the two had yet to shed any blood was due to the close proximity of President Washington, the host of tonight’s affair.

“Someone should really go and separate those two before they realize how terribly opposed their views are. I’d hate to get any blood stains on the new rug.” James glanced up to see it was Martha Washington who spoke.  

Smiling James offered a hand out to greet the woman, “I do believe that will happen regardless of our intervention, ma’am.”

Martha gave a simple nod in the direction of his hand, and James’s hand dropped, realizing both of hers were occupied. In her left Martha held a nearly empty glass of wine, and in her right she held a hand, not her husband’s either.

James studied the younger woman attached to Martha’s side with interest. She had a death grip of Mrs. Washington’s hand and looked to be cowering behind the older woman. To her credit, Martha also appeared to be shielding the girl, who looked about ready to sink into the floor. The forlorn expression on her face and the tightness on Martha’s told James that neither of them particularly wanted the young woman to be there. Whether that was because Martha did not care for her to be at the banquet or whether Martha cared to protect her from it, James could not be sure.

“Mrs. Washington, I do not believe I’ve had the honor to meet your acquaintance,” James addressed the unknown woman with a slight bow of his head, “James Madison.”

“Oh, of course,” Martha flashed a forgetful smile James would have believed had he not seen it before. “Mr. Madison, this is my dear younger sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” James bowed his head.

The woman, whom he now knew to be (Y/n) Elizabeth), gave a one-handed curtsey in response and a rather hesitant smile. Her grip on Martha’s hand loosened slightly, but she made little move to approach him any closer or step out from behind Martha’s guarded stance.

“Has your sister been introduced to Mr. Jefferson or Mr. Hamilton? Perhaps we could make their acquaintance on that pretense,” James suggested, waving a hand to where his oldest friend stood, still in deep, uninterrupted discussion with the new Secretary of Treasury.

“James!” A familiar voice boomed as a hand came down firmly to clap James on the shoulder. “I am so glad you could come.”

James turned to face George Washington and extended a hand, “Mr. President, did you really think I would miss a welcome banquet for my oldest friend?”

George accepted James’s hand and shook it firmly. “Your oldest friend who has spent the majority of the night politely refuting every word that has left the mouth of Secretary Hamilton.” George gave James a pointed smirk. “I dare say those two are cut from the same cloth.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far, sir.” James nodded his head in the direction of the pair, who seemed to have been quietly escalating their disagreement. “Even if they were, I doubt either would admit it. However, I do think they are both stubborn enough to continue this fight until someone forces them to cease blows.”

“Oh let them stew for a moment more,” George waved off James’s concern with a light chuckle. “They both work best when they’re angry. Perhaps if we leave them to it long enough they’ll build the whole country while trying to outdo each other.”

James did not share George’s confidence in the pair of men. He didn’t know who he was more concerned for. He’d seen Hamilton work. The young man had an unmatched determination, and put to work it could do some serious damage. However, Thomas Jefferson was not a man to cross, probably a fourth fact to add to his list if he ever felt like expanding it. There had been more than one occasion over the course of their friendship that he found himself thanking the heavens Thomas was on his side not against him. Nevertheless, James allowed George to table his concerns and the conversation to steer away.

“You know James,” George glanced down at the younger man’s sleeve covered arm with a knowing smirk. “Mr. Burr is here tonight.”

James’s hand instinctively went to his arm. Under the sleeve, the first words from his soulmate, Mr. Burr speaks very highly of you, Mr. Madison. “I’m afraid I have already met all of the women you have invited tonight, not including Mrs. Aylett.” He gestured to Martha’s sister. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

“Well no danger of that tonight, Mr. Madison.” Martha piped up, still holding firmly to her sister. “Perhaps the next banquet,” with a kind smile she added, “We’ll see to it Mr. Burr is invited to all of them.”

“How kind of you, Mrs. Washington,” James nodded politely.

James waited silently as George turned to address Martha about the time dinner would begin. His eyes wondered over to (Y/n), who also seemed very uninterested in the conversation. Her eyes had wandered away, and her guard had dropped slightly as she looked around the room. James followed her gaze to Jefferson and Hamilton who had since been joined by Aaron Burr, the same Aaron Burr who would one day introduce James to his soulmate.

‘No danger of that tonight,’ James reminded himself of Martha’s words, harsh but true. It occurred to him at first that she may have spoken prematurely. He knew everyone else in the room, but her sister had yet to speak a word to him. It didn’t seem likely, given that (Y/n) probably did not know Aaron Burr and had no reaction herself to his first words to her. Even so, Martha had said it with an odd sense of finality. If James could not see the looping cursive peeking out from under (Y/n)’s sleeves, he’d have assumed Martha was so assured in her statement because her sister had no soulmate. He supposed, now, it must have been because she knew the words on her sister’s arm, or that her sister had already found her soulmate. Though if that was the case, why was he not here?

A million possibilities were running through James’s mind. There wasn’t anything else particularly interesting to do that night.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, didn’t anyone tell you the war was over?” The voice of Aaron Burr echoed across the hall. Clearly James had been too soon assuming the night would be uninteresting.

George caught James’s eye. “Let’s go end the squabbling; shall we?” George offered an arm to his wife, and (Y/n) reluctantly dropped her death grip on Martha so her sister could accept.

The married couple led the way, and James followed after them beside a meek-looking (Y/n) who still refused to speak. The poor, quiet girl was walking into a lion’s den with Burr, Jefferson, and Hamilton. If she was hesitant around him, he could only imagine how badly she’d be spooked by the other three men. James made a concerted effort to circle around to her other side and place himself between her and the other three. He’d thought he’d been subtle with the gesture, but the sheepish smile (Y/n) sent his way told him otherwise. His only reply was to nod in confirmation.

“Mr. President,” Aaron Burr gave a bow of his head to the approaching group, effectively halting all conversation between Hamilton and Jefferson. “How are you this evening?”

“Quite well, Mr. Burr. How are you? Enjoying the festivities, I see,” The president looked between his two secretaries admonishingly.

Hamilton, at least, had the respect to look scorned, “My apologies, Mr. President. Secretary Jefferson and I were simply discussing…”

“Enough of that,” George waved away Hamilton’s concerns. “This is meant to be a celebration. Mr. Jefferson has only just returned to us from France. Let’s leave our work to the office, shall we?”

“Of course, Mr. President.” Thomas Jefferson gave a respectful bow of his head. “Thank you for hosting this dinner tonight. I appreciate your hospitality.”

“And we appreciate your assistance. I look forward to working with you, but for now let’s enjoy our evening.” George addressed the pair of them.

Hamilton bowed his head and turned his attention from the group. “If you all will excuse me, my soulmate is speaking with Mrs. Adams and appears to want my attention.” He went off with one last nod to the President.

“You haven’t even made it into work yet, and the two of you are already finding things to bicker over,” George’s tone was teasing, but there was a certain sense of warning to it that none of the group missed.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it bickering, merely a difference of opinions unrelated to work. I’m sure we’ll be able to put it aside in future work.” Thomas politely refuted the President’s concern.

“Unrelated?” James cut in. He knew both men well enough. They had plenty of points of contention related to politics. He couldn’t imagine they would have had enough time to make it through all of them and find something else to argue about.

“Soulmates, of course,” Thomas waved his hand in the direction Alexander had retreated. “He brought up the topic and seemed rather disgruntled by my stance on the subject.” Thomas was being very careful not to launch into his opinion again. He doubted this group, Martha and the woman he didn’t know in particular, would appreciate it.

“Ah yes,” George mused. “Alexander mustn’t be familiar with your perennial bachelorhood.”

“I was married once, you know,” Thomas pointed out to George with a teasing tone that in no way seemed to disagree with George’s statement.

“It happens sometimes,” Martha seemed to miss the tone in Thomas’s voice and took him more literally. “You know, people getting married outside of soulmates.” Her eyes trailed to the other woman in the group, standing between George and James and trying desperately to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.

Thomas’s eyes trailed over the girl. “Who might your friend be, Mrs. Washington?” The question was addressed to Martha, but his eyes were firmly on the woman, expecting the answer to come from her.

She made no move to answer or even acknowledge Thomas’s presence, and Martha piped up immediately in response. “Mr. Jefferson, this is my sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”

“Can she not answer for herself?” Thomas fought the urge to roll his eyes when he looked back to Martha.

“As a matter of fact -” Martha sputtered out, agitation bubbling up in her expression.

“Mr. Jefferson,” George warned coolly, all pretense dropping from his voice.

Thomas wanted to scoff. He couldn’t get a word out today without being berated, first by Hamilton, then Burr, now the Washingtons. This banquet was supposed to be in honor of his return, and all he wanted to do was leave. Any other day he would have been the epitome of cordial, but that Hamilton had wound him tight. He wanted none of this.

Turning to (Y/n), he practically growled out his first words to her, “What? Are you mute or something?”

Everyone froze for just a moment. Aaron Burr was looking at him aghast. James’s expression was simply exasperated. George Washington had the stern expression of a no-nonsense general, and Martha looked a mixture of angry and shocked at his side. The woman, (Y/n), simply looked resigned. She was meeting Thomas’s gaze now, but the look in her eyes was not that of a woman scorned. It looked more like a woman broken.

The look in her eye was all Thomas needed to realize he’d made a mistake.

(Y/n) turned to her sister and made a quick gesture, wiping her fingers twice over the palm of her outstretched hand, before she turned for the door.

“Wait, I-,” Thomas reached out to the woman, ready to apologize. Instead, his hand was snatched away.

When he looked back, he was expecting a disappointed James or maybe a wary Aaron Burr. He was certainly not expecting to have to look down into the eyes of an absolutely livid Martha Washington. “You… You…” She was trying desperately to form sentences, but her anger was suppressing her speech.

“I’m sorry, deeply sorry.” Thomas looked away ashamed. “It has been a rough evening. I didn’t intend to take it out on your sister.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martha’s voice was growing louder with her building rage. “You should be apologizing to (Y/n)! Not just for this, for decades of hating herself! Do you realize how much damage you’ve done to her?”

Now Thomas was confused, very confused. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“Every day she wakes up to those words burned into her arm! Ashamed of who she is and knowing you’re ashamed of it too!” Martha’s ranting had attracted attention from a good portion of the banquet hall now. George reached out to his wife, trying to rein her in.

Thomas tried placating the irate woman. “I don’t understand what you mean, Mrs. Washington. Perhaps, I should just go find (Y/n) and…”

George took the matter on himself and pulled his wife from Thomas, stepping up close to the man so none of the now eavesdropping guests could hear his voice carry. “Your words are on (Y/n)’s arm. You must be her soulmate.”

“I don’t have a soulmate.” Thomas replied almost mechanically, turning his arm slightly so George could see the blank expanse of skin.

“Well yes,” George conceded. “If (Y/n) is your soulmate you wouldn’t have words on your arm. She’ll never speak to you… She is mute.”

seventeen during finals week

has tHIS BEEN DONE??? im almost done finals; i have one more, and i honestly did not learn anything from that class. my professor never posted lecture slides and just kahslkdas ANYWAY. im procrastinating hahahahakdadj //ded


  • takes breaks all the time
  • gets himself pumped for studying only to not study
  • looks at his notes, flipping through them aggressively bc he did not retain any information
  • hardcore crammer
  • manages to barely pass his classes


  • mood swings
  • will suddenly laugh hysterically in the middle of studying
  • gives up half way, leaves his things in the library to get food and spends most of his time hanging around the cafe by the library
  • prolly would hover over joshua while studying


  • has his notes all easy to read
  • willingly shares his notes with his friends
  • the type to joke around failing class even though he gets good grades
  • keeps his study area neat and tidy!


  • probably more focused on balancing his pen on his nose
  • barely took notes during the semester
  • never attended lecture or is always late whenever he shows up
  • learned all the shit by himself
  • lowkey genius fr fr


  • the type to get really into studying
  • but only when he feels pressured
  • locks himself in his room to study to limit distractions
  • lights a candle to keep him calm
  • only goes out of his room for the bathroom or for food


  • super chill
  • like too chill
  • prolly the type that says shit like “whatever happens, happens man”
  • lays in bed watching movies on his laptop
  • keeps tabs open for the study guides uploaded by his professors 
  • the tabs make him feel like he’s doing something right even tho he aint even studying


  • evil eyes anyone who tries to distract him
  • doesn’t have final exams, just final projects and papers
  • locks himself in his room and barely sleeps bc he needs to finish his projects
  • physically has to be dragged out for him to eat and see sunlight


  • reads manga instead of studying
  • studies for 10 minutes and rewards himself with a break
  • likes to walk around the library rather than studying
  • accepted his grades way before finals and knows he can barely do anything to salvage it


  • eats while studying
  • gets distracted by the food he eats that he doesn’t really study
  • super stressed about needing to study but still doesn’t study
  • works well under pressure but is highkey on the verge of tears bc stress
  • passes with a B average


  • will talk to no one
  • bad mouths professors for not teaching him anything/giving him too much work
  • gets really salty trying to study
  • super bad mood like a dark aura emits from his body and everyone just avoids him during this time of the semester


  • asks you to quiz him using the quizlet he found online
  • intense memorization
  • mental breakdowns
  • calls his mother to ask her if she’ll still love him after he takes his finals
  • gets mad at people who try to distract him


  • tries to make a rap for vocabulary words he needs to remember
  • goes to joshua for help
  • probably spends his time trying to learn pen tricks
  • has a fidget spinner and just plays with that instead
  • goes to seungkwan to show him what he can do with the spinner and gets smacked by a book


  • eats with mingyu
  • probably dancing instead of studying
  • usually gets good grades
  • has to have the older ones tell him to study or else he wont

Unconfident Daryl

Daryl Dixon tells you he has a confession before one of your week long supply trips with Maggie, but once you return, Daryl seems a little hesitant to go through with it.

  • Daryl Dixon x Reader
  • 2024 Words
  • Warnings: Cussing, talk of sex.

The supply run was a complete bust, only arriving back at Alexandria with a few items on the list of things needed, plus a few things that weren’t listed. At this point, you couldn’t be too picky. Most towns were bare of anything salvageable and most runs took anywhere from two weeks to two months.

You fiddle with the small box in your hands, twisting it between your fingers as the truck pulls through the gates, seeing a very familiar face directing Maggie where to park. Abe was smiling, though you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that smile on his face. It was hard to pick Abraham sometimes, never knowing what was going through his mind.

“Find anything useful?” Abe asks, strolling over to your window and peering inside. He notices the box in your hand and raises an eyebrow. “That?”

“Shut up.” You push your door open and jump from the truck, landing on your feet perfectly. “It’s a gift.” You state as you walk by the ginger and help Maggie unload the bags. It wasn’t much, just a few cans of food and maybe there was a diaper bag in there for Judith. At this point, it was hard to remember what you grabbed.

“Hey!” Carl ran over, his hat sitting atop his head as usual, with a giant smile plastered across his cheeks. “Find any games?” He asked eagerly. The boy had been asking for any kind of entertainment for months now, since they found him a small gaming device that still worked, but only for the next couple of weeks. There was no way to charge it, bringing the fun to an end quickly for the growing boy.

Maggie’s lips turn down and she gently shakes her head at the young boy that had somehow passed her height. “Not this time, buddy.”

That doesn’t seem to bring Carl’s mood down too much. He grins, agreeing that next time they would have luck, and ran off to play with one of the other kids.

“What is with everyone?” You ask Maggie as you take the bags up to the kitchen. “It’s like a damn Hallmark movie up in here.”

Maggie laughs at your comment, nodding ever so slightly at the thought of such a happy life. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I can only remember the WalMart baby, though.”

“WalMart baby!” You giggle.

As you two talk about the movie, you come up to Daryl’s house. The garage door is open, revealing his precious motorcycle sitting in pieces. Though that wasn’t exactly what caught your attention. No, what caught your attention was the Dixon ass poking out from the hood of one of the old supply trucks. You knew it had run out of gas some time back and blown some sort of fuse. Daryl was asked weeks ago to fix it.

You feel your legs slow down as you got closer, wanting to linger just a little bit to watch as his butt wiggles in the air as he cussed at the engine and made a loud clanking sound with his tools.

Maggie gave you a small push toward the man and, with a wink, took the bag from you. She scurries off to meet Glenn, Rick, and Abe.

Feeling your heart race against your chest, you decide that now was the time. You make your way over to Daryl, the man you’ve had a crush on since you laid eyes on him. It was unsure why, seeing as you hardly dated before the apocalypse, leaving you a bit confused when it came to dating.

Not that you weren’t good looking or anything of the sort. Honestly, you always felt confident in your looks, especially without making yourself up and dressing in those frilly dresses all the girls used to wear. You were naturally pretty, you just weren’t into the dating scene all too much. Guys were never on top of your list.

“Son of a–!” Daryl pops his head up, sucking on his index finger as he whips around and catches you staring at him. His body tenses up as he slowly lets his finger fall from his lips, his eyes squinting, trying to figure you out as quickly as possible.

“I brought you something.” You force a smile onto your lips. Daryl was your crush, and Daryl liked to flirt back, but you always thought that was Daryl, giving in to your little game. You never thought he was serious about it, never. He would always make fun of the way you were looking at him, giving him the ‘fuck me’ look and licking your lips every time he rearranged his junk in front of you. You were completely and utterly smitten by this man.

“Me?” The words came out in a low growl, the very same growl that made your skin crawl and that smile to spread across your cheeks. “What is it?”

With a swift movement, you hand him the pack of cigarettes you knew he likes, unopened and with a working lighter tied around it. “Found it in the house we raided. Thought you could use it.” You shrug, remembering Daryl telling you a while ago that he was in need of a good smoke.

Daryl nods a thanks, though his lips remain in a thin line and his shoulders still look tense.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, not able to shake off the fact that Daryl was the only one in town that hadn’t smiled at you yet, or hardly given you much of a look at all. “Everyone else is in a good mood.”

A cigarette between his teeth already, Daryl lights it quickly and takes a long drag, fluttering his eyelids closed as he took in his nicotine. He breathes the smoke out, blowing it out of the corner of his mouth so it didn’t catch in your face. “Dunno.”

“What’s going on between us?” You bring your voice down, knowing that anyone could be eavesdropping.

He pocketed the pack and slips the stick between his fingers. “Not sure what you mean.” He grumbles and looks back inside the engine of the truck, clearly avoiding the subject.

A little bit of courage bursts inside you. You cross your arms over your chest. Maggie was right—you needed to talk to Daryl about this. All the mixed signals were getting in the way of something that could potentially be great.

“Just before I left, you acted like you wanted to tell me something and now you’re doing your best to push me away.” You point out the obvious, wishing you hadn’t the moment the words left your lips.

Daryl looks up at you, the cigarette hanging between his teeth as he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. His lips are still in a thin line and his jaw clenches. “That was before I started thinkin’, doll. I ain’t got nuthin’ to say.” And he went back to his tinkering.

“Daryl.” You say sternly, standing your ground and promising yourself not to back down now. “Why can’t we just have a normal conversation?”

“There ain’t nuthin’ worth sayin’.” Daryl flicks the bud onto the ground and stomps it out with the heel of his boot. His hair falls into his face, but he doesn’t push it back. It gives him a little cover from the truth.

Anger shot through you and you ball your left hand into a fist, ready to slam it on the hood of the nearest car. “Before I left, you started to say something. I want to know what that something was.” You demand him. “If it has anything to do with this age gap then—“

“Age gap?” His eyes move back, meeting yours as he straightens his back up and crosses his arms. His muscles flex and relax again, giving you a little shiver down your spine. You loved when Daryl went sleeveless and showed off those curvy arms of his. “Fuckin’ age gap? I don’t care ‘bout no age, Y/N.”

‘Then what is it?” You were no longer quiet, you raise your voice to get a point across. You wouldn’t let him go until he gave you an explanation this time. Daryl was a quiet man, likes to stick to himself, but he wouldn’t be able to just bury his emotions now.

Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other and kicks at a pebble on the ground, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. He turns his nose up to the sky just before he opens his mouth and tries to think of a way to answer that will both satisfy you and keep him out of trouble. “I can’t afford to lose you.”

That should have been something sweet shared between two lovers. Coming from a Dixon, it was much more. The sound of him saying those words to you melts your heart, even though you were still upset with him, it made this a little easier.

“You won’t lose me.” You smile, assuring the man.

Daryl looks up, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red at the realization of what he said. “Forget it.” He growls and returns to his job.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you found yourself padding over to Daryl and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. It was something you’ve dreamt of doing for weeks now. To feel his skin against yours, that was much needed. “You won’t lose me.”

He grabs both your wrists and shoves you off him, carefully. You drop your hands to your sides and it feels like your heart was ripped from your chest. Daryl watches you with his eyes narrowed and his chest heaving like a wild dog getting ready for an attack.

“If I let you get close, I’ll end up losing you.”

He wasn’t making any sense to you. You tilt your head to the left and let your own hair fall in your face, not bothering to push it aside. “If you let me closer, we can have a good time.”

“I’m too rough.” He rumbles.

“Rough?” You blink your eyes a couple of times, still very confused. “I can handle that.”

Daryl savagely shakes his head and flings his hair everywhere. “Naw. Naw, you can’t and I’m not allowing myself to take a chance.”

It takes you another minute to understand what Daryl was rambling about. You assumed, at first, he meant he was rough around relationships, hardly knowing how to be in one. Now, you were realizing he wasn’t talking about just the relationship. Daryl was scared of physically hurting you.

“I fuck up too bad.” Daryl goes on, but he didn’t seem to realize you were slowly moving closer to him, taking the final five steps to close the space between the two of you.

“Fuck me up, Daryl.” You purr, pressing your chest to his and leaning up on your tiptoes just a little. “Show me how you’re an animal in bed.”

Daryl gulps and his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips, all the way down to your breasts which are placed against his chest, wanting to pop out of that shirt you were wearing. He’s thinking hard on it, wanting to resists but at the same time, loving the challenge. The spark ignited in his eyes, shining through as he grabbed your waist with enough force to leave a bruise for weeks. You squeak and grab hold on the front of his shirt and wait until he crashes his lips into yours, not caring who saw, not caring that he was a bit sloppy at first.

Daryl Dixon was finally yours, rocking your world, promising you that he would get better with the boyfriend thing eventually. You loved his little fuck ups, though. The way he wasn’t sure how to comfort you other than to hold you and kiss your forehead or the way he awkwardly held your hand whilst walking down the street, unsure if he wanted the whole of Alexandria to know who he was seeing every night, bruising to the high heavens.

Selfishly Selfless

Originally posted by largebang

Selfishly Selfless
[Was there truly a selfless act in love │Samuel Seo]

There was a fine line between selfishness and love.

If you love someone you were supposed to be selfless because you should put their happiness before your own. But is it selfish to want them to be with you? Was there really a truly selfless act?

Love was inherently selfish.

The only selfless thing you’d ever done was break up with him. But you were too selfish to actually let him go.

It wasn’t that this was routine perse’. You two never sought each other, this was never planned. You’d just always end up finding each other when you needed one another most. Maybe it was because you knew each other so well, that it was never a conscious decision.

It was just fate.

Samuel rolled over on his side watching you shimmy your jeans on. There was something so bittersweet on watching you leave. He’d gotten so used to seeing your back as you attempted to leave his apartment before he woke up. You always failed, but it didn’t stop you from trying. He smiled seeing the sun shining in through his curtains, indicating that you’d slept in. As much as you tried to leave before sunrise, it just wasn’t in you to be awake that early. It probably took everything in you just to get up this early.

Your bare silhouette was beautiful as you stretched your arms over your head, slipping on your shirt, not bothering to put on your bra. You were always too lazy to be bothered with it in the morning. He smiled seeing you stuff it in your bag along with your heels. You searched around his room, looking for your favorite pair of boots of his to take. They were far too large to actually fit you, but anything was better than your heels.

“Stay for breakfast, I can whip up your favorite” he smiled sleepily, already knowing your answer. He didn’t have to see your face to know you’d have that nervous look in your eyes. You were probably anxiously biting your lip, dreading turning him down.

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Your Savior - 40

Here it is! Sorry for the long wait! I promise to try to get things out faster!

Originally posted by jdmfanfiction


Any chapter in this fic may contain purposeful content by the writer to induce: emotional distress, anxiety, and all of the feels! It is NEVER my intent to cause vomiting! ;)   (Seriously, could be one of my fav convos ever!)

Any chapter may also contain: swearing, Negan being Negan, violence/gore, angst (see above), mentions of death, mentions of past sexual assault, PG adult contact, or smut (This is to avoid spoilers in future chapters. I guess read at your own risk.)

Your Savior Masterlist

Chapter 40

Life at The Sanctuary fell back into comfortable routine in the month following the departure for the outpost. With so many people gone from camp (though the numbers still towered over 100) rations were increased, supplies didn’t diminish as quickly, and the overall air wasn’t as tense.

Once a week a handful of the Saviors from the outpost would bring supplies collected to trade with main camp and bring updates. Several Saviors stationed at the outpost also had radios to communicate any urgent needs with Simon or Arat.

You were completing the training of several new recruits and finished every day tired, sweaty, and sore….and that was before Negan got a hold of you.

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ksclaw  asked:

I like to think more, that Astrid *didn't* fall for Hiccup in just one day. I figure she saw some good qualities in him, but with all the negativity going around too in the first movie, it's not something you focus on a lot.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like to think that as well. I mean, its another thing I’ve written about that I can’t really search atm because I’m in a social situation (#Hiccstrid talk might have it?), but working some reasonability into Astrid’s very obvious writer-flubbed ‘return affection’ is just a burden all Astrid-fans must bear.

Gift of the Night Fury did us all a HUGE favor.

The first movie screwed Astrid’s character, but it was just barely salvageable. GotNF assured us that both she and Hiccup were capable of a healthy relationship, despite their tropey-shotgun situation. HTTYD2 straight up confirmed that they were healthy and happy. Like… thank the gods for GotNF and HTTYD2

RTTE went backwards, got weird, kinda “restarted” them and tried to ‘ignore’ what the movies did but, sorry kids, the movies happened. We fell in love with the movies. Don’t ignore the movies. Work with them, not around them. Please.

Despite how much I ship McHanzo, my sad ideas and aus somehow end up being McGenji Like, I have a lot of ideas I can expand upon My fave idea is young McGenji where baby Blackwatch McCree finds Genji’s disposed of bloodied body in an alleyway by Shimada castle, and since I’m a sucker for dramatics it’s raining But I mean, get that storm theme with Hanzo’s dragons; tears of a dragon I digress, McCree decides to carry back this hack and slashed boy bc holy fuck he’s somehow still alive just barely The mission could be compromised since he’s a Shimada; through all the blood and slices McCree sees a barely salvageable dragon tattoo on his back that was purposely given the most damage.

anonymous asked:

5 & oikawa?

I’m so sorry for this, I really am. I just started writing and then a shit-storm happened. 😭

-Admin Lana


Living in this reality, fear was second nature, you couldn’t afford the leisure of letting your guard down. It was either kill or be killed, no in between. With every morning that you awoke, healthy and alive, there was the risk that you wouldn’t live to see tomorrow.

It began with an insignificant virus that most thought would pass with a simple vaccination, but it only expanded. Larger populations of people began to take ill, most cases resulting in death, until the disease consumed an entire race by replacing it with the corpses left in the aftermath. No amount of thrillers and Hollywood-made movies about the undead could prepare anyone for reality of the situation. The world as you knew I turned to utter chaos destroying what little you had left. The remaining humans, which you would have hoped would banded together, turned against one another in a fight for resources and shelter; every man for themselves. Each day you th baked the stars that somehow planted you at Oikawa’s side, thankful to see your boyfriend alive and healthy. Although you didn’t know which was more frightening; the thought of losing Oikawa to the hands of death, or watching him become the creature he refutes the most.

There are things in life that you dreaded to do, and supply runs happened to be one of them. Being open and exposed for zombies to prey upon you wasn’t the most secure feeling, but having Oikawa at your side, knowing that he’d protect you, put any doubts at ease.

What was once a well-stocked grocery store was now an abandoned building looking as if it had withstood years of war damage. It may as well have seeing as the windows were smashed, and it looked like it had been set a blaze a couple times. You weren’t looking to make out with an abundance of items from your list, but at least enough to survive another week. Oikawa held his hand up signalling you to stop while he checked the perimeter.

“Be careful.” You warned to which he responded with a quick kiss, holding up the gun had had acquired as if saying, ‘I have this now, I’ll be fine.’ While you were impressed with how he handled such a weapon, it didn’t stop you from worrying.

Once he disappeared around the corner, you fingered the knife holstered at your side instinctively, casting glances around the area for any signs of danger. The quiet surrounded the area settling into a cloudy feeling of what life was like before this. It was saddening to think of the lives that once bustled in and out of these doors, continuing with their mundane tasks, oblivious to what would soon become of them.

A low whistle sounded from inside the building, and you crept inside following the sound until you met with Oikawa. He was already packing items into his bag: water, canned foods, medicine, etc.

“There’s not much here, and what’s left is barely salvageable.”

You let out a groan of frustration at the news, but what could you expect? The place didn’t look too promising to begin win. Starting towards the next aisle, a hand suddenly shot out to stop you. Whipping around, you met warm brown eyes, and a finger pressed against your lips.

“I heard a noise.”

You could only hope that whatever else in here with the two of you couldn’t hear the clamour of your heart pundit against your rib cage. Once again, Oikawa held up his hand for you to halt while he went ahead. Shaking your head furiously, you tried to stop him, but a sharp glare ended your protests. Unsheathing the knife, you prepared yourself in case something happened while he was gone. It was eerily silent, not a sign of a living soul in sight. A passing thought told you that perhaps Oikawa’s hearing was beginning to wane, but you quickly found out that wasn’t the case. An animalistic shriek shook the very core of your soul, and within moments you were on your feet, racing in the direction the male ran off to.

When hearing the term ‘zombie’ one thinks of slow-moving creatures that shamble after you with an insatiable craving for the taste of human flesh, right?


Zombies took on an entirely new meaning that could never compare to any novel or movie. These 'things’ were fast, inhumanly so. They could cover the span of a football field within seconds with no hassle at all. It was startling to think of how advanced they were. Compared to them, humans stood a slim chance in any encounter.

“Tooru!” You called out upon seeing one of the undead straddling him, desperately trying to sink their teeth into his skin. It was painfully obvious to see he was struggling, and if you wanted to make it out of this alive, you’d have to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, you steels your nerves, taking a running start towards the fight. Knife in hand, you brought the weapon down in an arc, plunging it in between the creature’s shoulder blades earning a growl. You felt an arm hit your stomach sending you reeling backs few feet. Luckily that seemed to buy Oikawa time as he rolled off to the side, putting distance between himself and he zombie. But it wasn’t focuses on him, rather on you instead.

It stunk of rotting flesh, and was missing most of its teeth, but that wasn’t the right thing to focus on when it was charging at you at an alarming speed. Readying yourself again, you slashed the blade in multiple directions, hoping it’d catch it’s skin at least once. Luckily for you it did, but not after landing another blow to you.

“Shit, _____!” You could head Oikawa yelling for you as his foot steps came into your field of vision, strong arms hefting your body up. “We need to run now!” And then he was merely dragging you the exit.

The entrance was in sight, a few feet away at most. Breathless, and terrified to look back, the two of you hurdled to the door, throwing it open with force. Oikawa’s hand that was tightly placed in yours was suddenly ripped away. You didn’t want to look back, but you did so anyway. The damned zombie had him in its grasp, pulling him back with animalistic strength.

“Dammit, run ____! Don’t look back, just go!”

It was stupid to think you’d actually leave him behind to become fodder for the blood thirsty creature. You were scared, but losing Oikawa was more terrifying. Pulling the gun your sides, you took aim, silently praying that it’s hit their mark.

Several shots rang out along with a few screams, and you thought you’d hit Oikawa by mistake. That would have been the better outcome you supposed.

With the zombie dead and your boyfriend alive, the day seemed to be progressively looking up. A wry bit of laughter was wrung from your throat as you said, “We made it out of there pretty lucky, huh?”

But there was no snarky response to your comment, or answer at all for that matter. Focusing your gaze back on the male, he kneeled on the ground, hand clutching at his shoulder. A few droplets of blood seemed to escape the area he was holding, painting the ground scarlet. Ever so slowly, he lifted his head to meet you, an an agonising expression painted across his face. It was then that you noticed the veins on his neck beginning to turn a sickeningly tar colour, and the whites of his eyes reddening.



This couldn’t be real.

You pinched yourself to wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn’t faux. The man dying in front of you was real. Zombies were real. Death was very real.

Sudden realisation crashes over you in a wave, your balance suddenly wavering as the thing you feared most was coming to life. You slowly approached him, hands reaching out for him, but he shifted away, shaking his head in protest.

“I’m sorry. I promised I would always be there to protect you, but it looks like I couldn’t even do that for myself.” His tone was bittersweet tinged with pain and sadness, but you knew he was trying to remain in tact for you.

His hand reached down to pick up his gun, placing it in your hands. You knew what he was asking of you. One by one, he wrapped your fingers around the handle, moving to push the barrel to his forehead. “I need you to do this for me before it’s too late. Before I hurt you.” The last part was quieter. A few nights ago he revealed to you that what he feared most than death was hurting you.

Shaking your head, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Feat was coursing through your veins, icing any control you and over yourself, mind racing a mile a minute to conjure a way to save him, but there wasn’t. Both of you knew that.

Kill or be killed.

“Please _____, I’m begging you. I can feel it starting to take over.” Oikawa pleaded, and the tears that leaked from his eyes weren’t that if water, but blood.

It was too late.

“I love you…” The words were shaken and not spoken without a hitch, but he received the message. There was a silent understanding that passed between you two without uttering a word. He knew.

“Love you too sweetheart.”

The last glimpse you had to remember him by was being bloody and bruised, shifting into a creature he fought everyday to protect you from, but you didn’t care. It was still Oikawa Tooru, the man you loved, albeit a more twisted version of him.



Nate and His New Girl (Part 2)

Read Part 1 Here | Part 2 | Read Part 3 Here

The night sky was making its daily rounds and slowly cloaking parts of the world with its usual black blanket. Faintly freckled colors of splattered white paint danced amongst the dark canvas.

You turn around and in front of you is a living room full of happy people talking with each other, dancing, and even singing together. However, despite the joyous scene that laid blatantly in front of you, you couldn’t help but think about what happened over two month ago when you last saw Nate with a new girl in his arms, key word being last. But this wasn’t just “a new girl” anymore. This was his girl. She’s still around and she’s in that very same living room right now amongst all your other friends - John, Emily, Johnson, Gilinsky, Madison, Kenny, Nash, and many more. Sam, on the other hand, stayed his distance from the girl since the beginning. He’s been the only one who’s known about your confused feelings for Nate, the only one who knows how much it must kill you to see Nate with another girl. And no matter how many times you told Sam not to worry about you, he just never listened.

So much has changed, you thought. You no longer receive those usual text messages of his, the ones where he’d tell you he was hungry and asked if you wanted to grab a bite to eat with him, the ones where he’d ask for your opinion on a verse for the song he’d be writing up, or even the little random ones like how he was still awake in bed at 4 AM in the morning, sometimes even thinking about you. No more silly snapchats, no more phone calls, no more hanging out, none of that. All the little things you realized you took for granted lessened to zero over the course of 8 mere weeks. You lost your best friend. But no, what hurt the most was the fact that Nate seemed to be okay, as if he hadn’t been affected by anything, as if he doesn’t even notice that your friendship with him has almost become literally nonexistent. It’s not like you wanted him to grovel at your feet for your friendship to come back, but some acknowledgement of the abandonment would have been nice.

Your train of thought ran off its track when you heard the sound of bushes rustling through this still night. “Hello?” you shifted your view to the direction of the noise. “Is someone there?”

No response.

“Okaaay,” you sang. “Don’t expect me to share this apple cider with you then!”

Slowly rounding the corner, a dark silhouette appears. You couldn’t make out who it was in the dim lighting, but the closer he came, the more apparent it was whom the figure’d belonged to. “Hey,” the familiar voice chuckled. “Nice tactic to get a guy to come out, apple cider and all.”

“Nate,” you lightly gasp in disbelief. Your eyes became wildly dilated. At a loss for words, you stare absentmindedly at the boy you have not seen in what feels like forever, the boy who now stands directly in front of you, but not without noticing a difference in his appearance at first. His beard has slightly grown out, stubbles mapping his face. His hair finally able in a bun, indicating his goal of also growing that out. The mediocre lighting showed barely that much.

Nate took a seat next to you on the table bench. The space he created between your bodies made it clear that things weren’t the same as before. There was now a rift in this barely salvageable friendship, but oh, how you yearned for things to go back to the way they were.

“Hey, lil mama,” he softly greeted.

Your heart jumped at the sound of the forgotten nickname, catching you off guard and making you fumble with your words. “I, uh, I- I… Hi…”

Looking up at what you’ve been staring at for the past 7 minutes, he asked, “What are you doing out here and not in there?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” you replied with a better flow. “Taking a breather, I guess. Why aren’t you in there? In fact, how long have you been here for? I thought you weren’t supposed to come until later on tonight…” An information you got from Sam in order to avoid a bump-in with Nate.

“I just got here. I had some things to sort out at the studio, but I finished it early. Anyways, forget about me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, (Y/N),” he smiled.

“Yeah, well, I could say the same about you,” you laughed dryly to yourself.

“What was that?” Nate asked, now too focused on the trickling stars.

You shook your head, solemnly responding, “Nothing.” Without a word to him, you then push yourself off the bench and headed towards the door, earning a puzzling reaction from Nate.

“Where’re you going?” he tilted his head.


“How come? Weren’t we just talking?”

For every second he kept you from escaping the situation, your irritability grew ten times stronger. Then, out of absolute impulse, you blurted out what rang loud in your mind: “Because, Nate, if I stay another second out here with you, my head is gonna explode!” You quickly covered your mouth when it registered to you that you actually said that out loud.

Just as completely baffled as you were by the abrupt statement, Nate shoots up from the bench that he loses his balance for a moment. “Woah, woah, woah. Wait, what? What was that, (Y/N)?”

“I mean, um, I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean… Dammit, Nate!” you groaned knowing you couldn’t go back on what you said. It was incredibly infuriating to know how he was the only one who could make you this confused and disoriented. “Nothing, okay? Just forget I said anything.” As you attempted to walk away once more, Nate grabbed you by the arm.

“No, no, not ‘okay,’ and no, I can’t ‘forget’ you said anything. What the hell, (Y/N)? Are you mad at me or something? How would that even make sense when we haven’t even seen each other the past couple of weeks?”

“What the-?! What-?! Are you-?! Are you serious, Maloley?! Please tell me you’re not serious because if you are, th- Oh, my gosh, you know what? Just drop it, you won’t get it anyways.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you Nate? Did you turn into me? Can you read my mind? I didn’t know you picked up the power to read people’s mind!” he rambled on sarcastically. “If I don’t get it, then explain it to me, (Y/N), instead of leaving me hang and dry like you were about to do!”

“Explain? Explain?! After all this time, now you want an explanation? And no shit you didn’t know! You wouldn’t know if I really did, or anything else for that matter, because the last time I saw you was two freaking months ago! Two, Nate, two! That’s more than ‘a couple of weeks’ don’t you think?!” you yelled until your throat burned. “I mean, did you even notice at all?…” your eyes grew worriedly soft, your voice now trying to catch its breath by panting.

His mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but his words quickly retreated as soon as he closed his trap. Although finally, he said something that made you secretly relieved, yet completely aggravated at the same time. “I… I did notice, (Y/N). How could I not?” He then saunters back to the bench. “Maybe you’re right,” he spoke, turning back around to face you at a distance. “Let’s forget any of this happened. You won’t get it, too,” he lightly muttered.

“Okay,” you simply replied.

You pivot back to the door only to see the living room’s demeanor entirely changed. No one was dancing or talking anymore, no one was having fun. Instead, everybody was staring out into the dully lit patio where you and Nate had been fighting for the past few minutes. The expressions on their faces were amusing. Some people had their mouths gaped wide open, some used their hand to cover them, and some had a blank expression, not able to comprehend the true extent to the quarrel that just took place. Then there was Kelsey who was downright confused, as she should be, but Sam…

Sam stood out the most. His sight shifted back and forth with uneasy haste, eyes saddened with immense pain to see his two close friends who go amazingly well together fighting like this. He then locks eyes on you, like he knew what exactly went down but needed to see you to confirm it.

Seeing that it was your cue to move on, you took a moment to gather yourself together before entering the space. When ready, you finally opened the door, and in exhaustion, walked past the room full of silent people with not an explanation to your lips besides, “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”

Sam darts outside to catch up to you and steps in front of your path before you even get the chance to reach for the car door.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” you sighed, trying to dodge him aside, but he matched your moves. “Samuel!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m never in the mood to see two of my best fucking friends fighting with each other like this. Shit, man! Everything’s so messed up,” he groaned loudly, rubbing his face with harsh force. “You guys can’t keep running away from this, you know that? Sooner or later, you two are gonna have to find a way to make up.”

“Why? Why do you care so much about what happens to me and Nate? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Because, (Y/N)!” Sam bursted out. “It’s you and Nate, for crying out loud! How is it that everybody else can see how perfect you guys are for each other, yet, you two can’t?”

"Things change,” you shrugged your shoulders, finalizing the conversation. “Goodnight, Samuel.” 

“Goodnight, (Y/N)…,” he muttered unhappily as you eventually got inside your car.  

With a mind intruded by unwanted thoughts, you set off to go back to the comforts of your own home.

Read Part 1 Here | Part 2 | Read Part 3 Here

A/N: What’d you guys think? (: Any feedback is much appreciated! Of course there will be a part 3, but just like this one, I’m unsure of when that will be out also. However, you can keep posted by checking out my master list down there; it’s always updated with the every imagine I post.



So the reaction to the last chapter was everything I could’ve hoped for. Everyone who hadn’t figured it out was properly surprised. Hopefully, this chapter has a bit more exposition for you guys. The people who enjoyed the last chapter were @petertheparanoidpoltergeist@procrastinatingvirgo, @arabella-loves-coffee, and @sxnali. 

Oh my gosh! No! No! No!

OMG I KNEW IT, I sense it from the last part that Steve’s date was Bobby! Damn! This part was so intense, definitely keep going with the new techniques, it adds more weight and realism to the writing

I took a break from my SAT studying and just discovered Civil War so I’m a little late BUT WOW IT IS AMAZING I LOVE IT!!! (also it reminds me of Mulan aka my fave disney movie)

Civil War (Part 7)

Part 6

Bucky felt Steve’s hands pull him back and the expression he was met with felt worse than any nightmare ever could. Your face was filled with a myriad of emotions. Confusion, disgust, and worst of all, fear. He could feel the tentacles wrapping themselves around his throat…

Steve dragged Bucky to the corridor, throwing him into his room and shutting the door.
“I don’t often get mad at you,” he began, “so I’m going to try not to. You tell me what you think is going on, and I will tell you why you’re wrong.”

Keep reading

BRAVE || Mafia!Chan [Chp 5]

BLURB: We are defined by what’s inside of us; not by the situations we are subjected to.

GENRE: action, au!mafia, friendships, bullying, high school, love

WORDS: 1164

PART: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Everything was destroyed.

The bed you and mother slept in was bashed and broken, the mattress slashed through and pillow fluff littered the floor. Her prized glass-blown vases – the one’s she brought from her old life – were all shattered on the ground, the last one balancing dangerously on loose shelves. Your books had been swept off the table. Wherever money could possibly be hidden, it had been raided through.

Your little piggy bank lay sadly amongst the glass pieces.

You stepped back out of the house, a cry choking in your throat. Chan fled to you immediately.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. You didn’t answer and just looked back in the room. His eyes travelled inside. He gasped.

“Oh wow…”

Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. It was nothing much but your mother worked hard to keep it. It was too small but always clean. It was home.

And just like that, it was gone.

You shuffled slowly inside.

“Y/N, it isn’t safe here. We should leave.” You didn’t hear him at all. You staggered to the center of the room, facing the wall where large, angry red letters had been spray-painted across.

“OWE $$, PAY $$.



You screamed.

Keep reading

In My Time of Dying - Part 1

Word Count: 2080

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: Onward to season 2! 

Tagging: @letsgetoutalive @aprofoundbondwithdean @spnfanficpond @pb-5minutefanfiction @faith-in-dean @blacktithe7 @supernotnatural2005 @paolathedragonichuntress @nothingeverdies @thegirlwiththeimpala @queen-of-the-unbroken-hearts @abaddonewithya @deans-cherry-pie1 @lilyoflothlorien @holywaterbucketchallenge @nanie5 @fandommaniacx @dreamer-lover-laughter @a-girl-who-loves-disney @jodyri @novaevelenekim @carrielc32 @starlingfalls @whatdoesntbreakyoumakesyou2k12 @jotink78 @klizbeth
@sharenaloveyoux @k20wn @winchesterwhisper @clariedelalune

Series Rewrite Masterlist

A demon walked out of the truck and came to the driver’s side door of the Impala. He ripped it off the hinges and stared down at Sam, who was pointing the colt directly at him. “Back. Or I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

“You won’t.” The demon replied. “You’re saving that bullet for someone else.” Sam cocked the gun.

“Wanna bet?” Sam asked. The demon smiled at Sam and suddenly left in a plume of black smoke. The man he was possessing collapsed and Sam uncocked the gun, dropping his head back against the seat.

Keep reading

there’s something mystical about it; inebriation despite the constant nos from adults and alike telling juveniles such as her to act otherwise. yet, here jiyun stands. a bottle of whatever alcohol she barely managed to salvage from the last room checks on one hand and a paintbrush on the other. “if i get a dollar every single time someone rhetorically asks me if i know who their parents are..” she started, eyeing the free space on the walls of the institute’s dungeon. “do you think i’ll have enough money to ship them back to whatever hell they came from and then fund my country if their parents cry for a war afterwards?” 

The worst thing about Love Never Dies is that fact that it could’ve been a good musical.

…If it wasn’t a sequel to The Phantom of the Opera and was instead a completely new musical.
(tbh it just as well might be since all the characters were OOC ANYWAYS ANDREW)
The basic plot of woman-loving-a-man-she-couldn’t-marry-so-she-bangs-him-anyways-and-marrys-a-not-so-perfect-guy-with-a-lotta-cash-only-to-have-guy-A’s-son-and-then-meet-him-again-years-later-and-carry-on-a-sorta-affair. IS an overly used fanfic trope. (However I’m kinda a sucker for this trope. This one and fake dating) But the right writer it might be able to turn that plot into something, especially if they piled on the stakes and heightened the emotional drama of the situation.  
 (Keep in mind, I never said it would be a “great musical” or an “original musical”  either. I said “good” and we’ll keep it at that.)  
Some plot points I would change tho: 
-that whole bet thing between “Raoul” and “the Phantom”. Yeah, I’m cutting that and ripping it to pieces. A) because the idea that a woman can be “won” is gross and B) The stakes need to be higher. MORE DRAMA. Throw in the threat of death or Female Lead really wants to keep her child but Mean Husband won’t let her if he knew about her affair even tho it’s not his kid. Which brings me to…
-Let’s not have the climax of the play hinging on the question- will Female Lead sing? If your gonna work with a trope-y plot you gotta be better than that.. 
-Not a plot point but the lyrics to “Beneath a Moonless Sky” HAVE GOTTA GO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD OR SO HELP ME.
-Make the “Raoul” character actually less OOC. Take a note from The Bridges of Madison County. Make him a bit sympathetic and show him to genuinely care about his wife (tho he can’t always show it and isn’t feel-y and sentimental)  That makes things less black-and-white and trope-y and more complicated.
-Don’t make the “Christine” character someone who is weak and easily seduced again by the “Phantom” character because that’s just not feminist. And he shouldn’t really pursue her either, they should both fall back in love naturally.
-Obviously I’m gonna need WILDLY different backstories for all the characters so they aren’t- ya know, the same characters. Cuz that just isn’t going to work on SO MANY LEVELS. ie the Phantom’s manipulation in the original, etc, etc, Raoul’s complete 180, etc.   
-THE GIRYS. They should be helping our Leads because the LND storyline for them is too OOC even for OOC characters. I can’t forgive their treatment in LND.  
-Prob. more stuff but I can’t think of it rn. 
-OH and no one dies. (I am now the book writer and I want a feel-good ending DAMNIT.)  
-Honestly Andrew, you shoulda hired Marsha Norman to write the book. 

Honestly, it’s a barely-salvageable mess, but I think Andrew Lloyd Webber’s score was too good for the absolute Shit-Show™ that is Love Never Dies.     

anonymous asked:

hobby headcanons for all the evo adults?


Reads. Like a lot. He tends to either read the books already in the library on the ground floor or buy books and then put them in there for the kids to have access to when he’s done reading them, but he also has a small personal collection of foreign language books in his room - largely Japanese but a handful of others as well. 

There’s usually a lot of work to be done around the mansion so he doesn’t get to do it often but he also likes to buy junk cars and bikes, like really terrible trash that’s barely salvageable as a project, and fix them up. He usually donates them to historical societies since they’re mostly really old machines but sometimes if it’s one that wouldn’t be interesting to those kinds of places he’ll either leave it in the garage for the mansion residents to use or sell it. 

COOKING. I’ve always headcanoned in every universe that, being fairly isolated before X-Men and between various military services, Logan had to learn to cook and do it well or else not eat much that tasted all that great. Considering he’s lived through lots of technological advances, including the kinds of utensils and appliances available to cook on; and easier and cheaper imports of unusual foods; and travelled extensively, he’d have a pretty steep wealth of knowledge to draw from. (The person on the chore roster to do dishes after dinner dreads seeing that they’re cleaning up after Logan because he can be all over the place and “I don’t even know what this utensil does or where it goes when it’s clean”)

Hank: Hank also reads for pleasure of course (see canon: Shakespeare) but the things he finds enjoyable to read about so often overlap with his day to day work that he doesn’t count it as a hobby really. I think Hank is a total science fiction buff. He’s got collected series of star trek, classic doctor who, and LOTS of movies from the fifties. 

Ororo: Gardening of course, but I also see Ororo in Evo as being very interested in music. She’s seen playing the piano in SpykeCam but I think she knows how to play a lot of instruments. I think her birthday present to herself every year is something to do with music, either a new instrument to learn or books of music to play on what she already has. I can see her drawing Hank out of the lab every once in a while by getting symphony tickets for them. 

Chuck: Collects old, fine expensive scotches and wines. Never fucking drinks them. Logan poaches them liberally for this reason, citing their disuse and dustiness in a cellar as sacrilege. 

Send me a character/set of characters for a headcanon ask!

Medusa’s Maze

OQ Week, Day 3: Lost Together. Missing Year. When Regina and Robin reluctantly team up, the usual snark ensues, but unexpected moments of vulnerability may just shift the dynamics. Trigger warning: mentions of torture. Unedited, mistakes are all mine.

“I don’t suppose you can just magic it away, can you?”

“I’d rather not be buried alive. It was designed to cave in, more magic would only cause another rock slide.”

“Wait—you knew this would happen?” Robin veers in sudden epiphany, clutching his barely salvaged bow while clouds of dust continue to swirl and settle where the entrance used to be, pestering his throat and eyes with incessant scratching and stinging.

“Of course I knew,” Regina scoffs, turning her corset-enlaced, jewel-encrusted back on him, “I could sense the magic from a mile away.”

“And we just walked right into the trap anyway?”

“You were welcome to stay away, thief. I believe I was very clear about that.”

“As you always are, Your Majesty.”

“And yet you never listen.”

“Oh, I’m all ears now,” he assures, following between walls of weathered stone and columns coated in peeling red, like so many open wounds and droplets of blood. “Your plan?”

“Collect the head and find another way out.”

“How very thorough.”

“Don’t thieves ever improvise?”

“Don’t queens ever not act rashly?”

She doesn’t deem that worthy of a reply, other than an offhand: “Make yourself useful and hand me the satchel.”

Keep reading

so, here is bismuth. and it’s obviously very important, why else would it be in lion’s mane with several keepsakes? i have two theories about bismuth. the commonalities between my two theories is that it is a (severely) injured gem.

my first theory relates to what garnet said in “monster buddies”; that rose had been trying to fix corrupted gems for some time. the gems don’t seem too keen on steven befriending a corrupted gem, and that gives us the impression that maybe they didn’t like it when rose did it either. so, what better place to hide a secret “project” than in a secret lion? and now that steven has discovered lion’s mane portal, maybe he will try to heal or befriend the gem when he finds it.

the second theory stems from what greg said in “the return”, that a lot of rose’s allies and friends didn’t survive the war. another possibility about this gem’s state/origin is that it is a devastatingly wounded friend who was barely salvaged from the remains of a battlefield, encased in a bubble until rose could find a way to heal it or for it to heal itself. again, in this theory, steven would most likely bring about the healing and befriending of this gem.