but i do like knife party

When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.

so Keith and Lance dating is some cool stuff, but now, consider: Keith and Lance as really close bffs

  • they!! look!! at!! cute!! boys!! together!!
    • one time Lance invited Keith over and the Bachelorette was on. Keith was like um no way man but then ended up getting really addicted but will deny it to the ends of the earth
    • they watch it together every week and talk about how hot the guys are ahhhh
    • Whenever they see a cute alien boy they playfully bicker over who “gets” him…
  • Lance is really physically affectionate! Keith being totally weirded out by it at first but eventually accepting it
    • Lance, flopping dramatically into Keith’s lap: you would not BELIEVE what the fuck just happened to me. Keith, not even looking up from sharpening his knife: who do I need to stab
    • They share beds sometimes when they don’t feel like sleeping alone
  • Speaking of that… slumber parties!!
    • “Keith, what the FUCK do you mean you have never had a slumber party… guess what we are doing Right Now…” -Lance, probably
    • they sit on Lance’s bed and watch shitty chick flicks while Lance tries to convince Keith to do a face mask…
    • “but Keith… you would look so pretty with makeup.. then maybe that alien boy who liked me more than you would change his mind-” and then Keith fucking tackles him  
  • They tried dating once but it just… didn’t work. But they had no problems slipping back into being friends!!
  • Keith always goes to Lance for dating advice, and vice versa! (even if the other has nothing good to say, lol)
    • Lance, coming out of the bathroom wearing some sexy outfit: okay so what do you think abt this for my date tonight. Keith: what the fuck Lance I did Not need to see that
  • Lance helping Keith be more open about his sexuality and Keith helping Lance with his insecurities 
  • They are really similar in size so they share clothes all the time… bc you know Lance has a Bomb Ass fashion sense and Keith digs it
  • They fight about stupid shit all the time 
    • Lance: I’m not talking to you bc… you flirted with that GUY I LIKED
    • Keith: what the fuck lance I literally just said hi?
    • Lance: you don’t UNDERSTAND
  • Keith and Lance just being really close bffs that love each other a lot!!

If you have more feel free to add them bc this is the Good Stuff

>>>umbra joins the party

hey i love this dog so here r some missed opportunities for umbra as a recruitable party member

  • banter wld be so good bc all umbra saying is like “woof” and it’s just four 20-23yo boys talking to him like people
    • umbra: woof!
    • ignis: indeed.
    • prompto: why do i feel so judged
  • idk i just think it’d be cute if he held a little knife in his mouth and that was his weapon
    • umbra, running around on the battlefield: woof!
    • prompto: umbraaaAAIS THAT A KNIFE?!?!
    • alternatively: look out ignis the spot for #1 knife boy has been taken
  • he has a special skill where he freezes time and looks very proud of himself while ur party wrecks the enemy
  • alternatively, he has a special skill where his barks give ur party buffs bc the bark of a dog is truly empowering
  • idle animation where umbra is just sitting down & wagging his tail while prompto circles him taking pictures as the other bros wave frantically in the background to get him to look up for that #noble pose
  • camping animation where he has his own little bowl that he eats out of
Complicated Hearts.

Request from @bucky-hackneyed:Can you do a Bucky x reader where Bucky is kind of an asshole to reader when she tries to flirt with him and then he tells her he doesn’t like her and she’s all heart broken?? But then Bucky catches feeling and then it fluffy stuff?

Bucky x Reader

Words: 2,563

Warnings: Hurtful remarks, mild language, angst, heartbreak and fluff.

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

“Earth to [y/n]!”

You were supposed to be training with Natasha in the gym of Stark Tower but you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the hot mess that was currently at the weights station. The redhead waved her hand in front of your face to try and snap you back to reality and after a few moments of doing so she succeeded as you shook our head and turned your gaze back to your friend.

“Gees, you’ve got it bad!”

“What?” You furrowed your brows in confusion having not even realised what it was you had been doing. “I have no idea what you are talking about Nat.”

“Yeah that’s right, feign innocence, but considering I have just been stood here for the past few minutes watching you I know exactly what, or rather who, you were looking at. You are like it every time he is in the gym.”

Could she really blame you though? Bucky Barnes had the stature of a Greek God and that jawline of his….damn it was sharp enough to cut something……

“[y/n] you’re doing it again.”

Now you really couldn’t deny it because you were perfectly aware that both your eyes and your thoughts had once again drifted over to the newest member of the team. How on earth were you supposed to concentrate on your training session with Natasha when such a beautiful sight was proving to be far too much of a distraction?

“I’m sorry but come on! The guy is ridiculously hot…that amount of hotness should be illegal.”

Keep reading


“Hmmm well, i do lots of things for fun if that’s what you mean, in fact, 90% of all i do is for fun! Mario kart with the pals, knife throwing, plotting and scheming, whatever, i like to mix it up a little everyday…

Although my favorite, and most consistent activity would probably be Skating with my gal-pal Harly! Sometimes other rouges come too if we aren’t tempted to rip each other to shreds that week, it’s a party!”


Patrick X Reader

Can you do an imagine where the reader says she isn’t scared of anything, but Pennywise knows she’s scared of her boyfriend Patrick

“Awn c’mon, it’s funny…” Patrick whined into her neck. “Patrick…” She breathed, “it’s really not…” She clenched her jaw, trying to stop her heart from palpitating. He kissed her neck and looked up to her, “it really is…” He frowned. “I’ve got class.” She started walking away. “Hey,” he pulled her back. “where’s my kiss?” He cocked an eyebrow. She leaned up and he grabbed her waist, pulling her into him, pressing her lips to his, he ran his tongue across her bottom lip and she pulled away.

“I have to go.” She said. “Be careful… Stupid kids keep going missing.” Patrick muttered. She leaned into him, “it’s not their fault and you know that!” He rolled his eyes and she began walking down the hallway to her class. During class she tried hard to pay attention but kept seeing Patrick outside the door, making suggestive gestures.

At lunch when she saw him, she slapped his arm. “What were you thinking?” She asked. “What?” He furrowed his brows. “People could’ve seen you… You can’t do that.” He chuckled confused, “I didn’t do anything!” He defended. She scowled. “Hey Trashmouth!” Henry bowers called out. Patrick’s attention was caught. “I’ll be back. Stay here.” he whispered sickly. Patrick and Henry walked out of the cafeteria and onto the grass.

She wanted to scream at him. She hated him for what he did to those poor boys. When she saw Patrick pull out his very own knife, she froze. “Patrick!” She shouted, walking up to him, yanking his arm away. “What?!” He spat venomously, his eyes had darkened. She stepped back. “You need to fucking stop.” She said numbly. “Just go and wait over there!” He yelled at her.

She couldn’t love such a monster, surely? But she did, with every inch of her being. She loved him and she wished she could stop him but she gave up. She often thought about her own safety but knew - hoped - he wouldn’t let himself lose control.

(Y/N)!” She heard a voice call. She turned to see a figure move behind the building. “Hello?” She whispered, moving slowly closer. “Who is it?” She asked, moving closer. She reached the building side where the figure loomed around the next corner. She followed glibly. Clenching her fists tightly. She walked closer and as she turned her head, she saw a large figure, much taller than her boyfriend, much weirder too.

It was the back of a man dressed like a clown. She recalled hearing Ben Hanscom and bill Denbrough talk about it in the hallways, mentioning to make sure to stay away but she couldn’t figure out why. it turned around and her heart dropped. “Hello (Y/N).” It’s mouth was covered in blood. “I’m not afraid of you.” She muttered trying to walk away, but he grabbed her. “Aren’t ya?” he teased.

She wriggled out of his hands and ran but bumped into Patrick. “Holy shit!” She squealed. “What’s wrong?” He chuckled. “I - I saw the clown those losers talked about on Monday… you joked it was for a birthday party but it - it -it…” She stammered. He stepped closer. “You’re beautiful when you’re scared, you know that?” He leered. “Patrick, not now. I’m serious!” She pleaded, gripping the hem of his shirt.

“So am I…” He licked his lips. He grabbed her face and pressed them against her’s roughly, she didn’t feel the love in his touch like she used to. She pushed him away, “Patrick, stop please.” She tried between kisses. “I can’t do that.” She heard his knife click. She looked down, against his strength and saw the knife lightly carrying across her leg up her side.

“Patrick, what are you doing?” She asked, trembling. “I like it when your scared.” He breathed against her neck as he kissed it roughly. She tried to push him away but he gripped her tightly. She closed her eyes and struggled away from him. She had always known Patrick was into weird shit but she was terrified at the fact the knife slid up under her shirt, carefully gliding across her skin.

“Patrick please stop. You’re scaring me.” She let out a whimper. He pushed her against the wall. “I didn’t think you were scared of me…” It wasn’t Patrick’s voice she heard. She opened her eyes to see the clown, his tongue was at least  eight inches long as it moved from her neck, up to her cheek. She screamed and screamed. When the real Patrick arrived, she had collapsed on the ground, shaking and silent. “(Y/N)?” His voice was laced with care and anger. She looked to him with a newfound knowledge. He scared her, he was her worst nightmare. The man she loved was also the man she feared the most.

That much as revealed after her encounter with the clown who calls himself Pennywise, who stood in the bushes metres away smirking. His last words to her replayed in her head, “you may not fear me but you do fear someone.”

For weeks she tried to relax around Patrick, she never fully recovered. She often dreamt about it when he was it the same bed, the dreams feel so real she wakes up in tears, convulsing and he holds her tighter. She sometimes flinches at his sudden touch. He never knew what happened that day and he refuses to ask.

I really hoped you enjoyed this!!! x (Working on a few imagines today for you all and I’m so excited!!!!)

The company Jealousy headcannons

Thorin : oh my gods if he even sees another guy (or lady depending on what you’re into) looking at as if they like what they see, he will not be happy. He’ll be subtly territorial, he’ll try to initiate a lot of stuff. There will be a lot of, “Honey I want to cuddle,” “will you do me the honor of sitting on my lap and letting me hold you, my treasure?” (Thorin bonus: if they have the balls to still make advances on you even while you’re sitting in his lap or whateve, he’ll pick you up and carry you to the nearest bed for a good long and thorough fucking.)

Dwalin: He’ll stand between you and any potential partner and just stare them down (even if they’re taller than him) until they go away. He’s a giant cock blocking wall with axes.

Dori: he’ll “accidentally” spill something on them, preferably something like scalding hot tea.

Nori: will just come up and start snogging you, whatever gets his message across. That or he’ll flash his extensive knife collection as them in a subtle way.

Ori: will feign illness to get you away from them.

Bofur: starts telling you jokes, and doesn’t stop until you can’t breathe properly while sending them the smug, “look what I can do and you can’t” look.

Fili: will get between you and them and start singing aggressively loud the offending party until they get uncomfortable and leave.

Kili: will give them his best “Durin murder glare” until they leave

Bilbo : distracts you with food.

Balin, Oin, Gloin, Bombur, and Bifur: these babies don’t get jealous.

Weights & Measures Pt 4 [M]

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 5k+

Triggers: swearing, sex

A/N: lol please don’t hate me.

Originally posted by ew-jiminnie

“I was prepared to love you and never expect anything of you
And there’s no patron saint of silent restraint
Baby there ain’t no sword in our lake
Just a funeral wake”

-Dry the River

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Final Epilogue

Three Months Later

You were standing on a beach in the middle of winter. The skies were grey. The waves were thrashing against the shore line. Whipping salt into your eyes. You turned to look down the shoreline and saw a figure moving towards you. You squinted, trying to get some sort of idea of who he was. But he was was too far away to see.

You started walking, hoping to shorten the distance between the two of you. Something was pulling you to them. You didn’t know what, but every bone in your body could feel it. His pink hair came into view and you stopped breathing for a second. It felt like you had hadn’t seen him in years. His face looked exactly the same. The cold wind had turned his cheeks the perfect shade of rose. Illuminating his pale skin.

He stared at you without saying a word. All you could do was stare back at him. Hoping that he would say something. You reached your hand forward, to touch his cheek. His skin felt like ice underneath you. You knew you didn’t have much time. That you had to say something fast. His image was already starting to disappear in front of you. “I love you” you whispered.

When you blinked and opened your eyes, it took them a second to adjust to the darkness around you. It had been a dream. You were dreaming. He wasn’t really there. You sat up and put your hands in your head. Running your fingers through your hair. You took a deep breath and looked at the man sleeping beside you. You watched his bare chest fall up and down and he slept. His brown hair had fallen into his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed of the beach. You had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

prompt: it's javert's birthday and he's prepared for another day of work with no one knowing, and wishing someone would say something. He gets home exhausted and miserable but as he opens the door to the living all the Amis ad cosette and eponine and gavroche and valjean all pop out and they have a massive party with a massive cake and javert cries but only valjean sees

Since my usual incarnation of Javert doesn’t quite fit with this heartwarming prompt, I decided to be inspired by @actualplanetpluto‘s Dadvert (I hope you don’t mind Amara!)

It was not that he disliked birthdays, it was just uncomfortable. Javert always tried to keep his personal and professional life separate and that meant that most of his colleagues at the police station didn’t know it was their captain’s birthday. So today was just another Friday, with everybody at the station either looking forward to the weekend or lamenting their weekend shift. It was a long day too and rather tiring. By the time Javert is on his way home he is exhausted. Distractedly he checks his phone while unlocking his car. That the police station was devoid of birthday wishes did not bother him, much, but he hasn’t heard anything from his- from the kids either. Or from Jean… There are no messages on hid phone and he puts it away with a firm reproof towards himself. Not hearing from the kids is good, it means they are staying out of trouble for once. The drive home is quiet and it at least gives him the opportunity to recover some energy.

When he unlocks the door to his apartment, he frowns. Only one of the three locks is locked. He was rather hurried this morning but he never forgets to lock them all, it’s a routine, he doesn’t break routines. He opens the door. Everything is quiet…but the light is on in the living room. A small smile tugs at the corner of Javert’s mouth. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Is that you Parnasse?” He calls out.

“Awww,” the familiar, slightly snarky voice replies from the living room. “How did you know?”

Javert shakes his head, walking to the living room with a smile on his face. “Because you’re the only one that feels the need to break into my-”


Javert freezes in the doorway and stares at the veritable crowd of people in his living room. The crowd of people cheering at him in his living room.

Montparnasse is wearing his most obnoxious, delighted grin and has one arm around Jehan, who has their hands raised in a deaf round of applause. Beside them Marius is laughingly trying to calm down Gavroche, who is literally jumping with excitement.

“Look at your face!” Joly laughs triumphantly. He is sitting in one of Javert’s armchairs and Bossuet and Musichetta are standing on either side of it with happy but slightly guilty faces that clearly betray that they were just sitting on the armrests of said chair.

There’s a flash of light originating from Bahorel, who is holding a camera, that is immediately being snatched away from him by Feuilly. “Come on,” Bahorel complains. “I waited a fifty seconds.”

“Don’t let Parnasse take the credit,” Grantaire hoots, mostly obscured by Enjolras who is sitting on his lap. “Your boyfriend used his key.”

Javert hadn’t even seen Valjean yet. He is standing behind a table laden with food and drink, flanked by Éponine and Cosette on one side and Combeferre and Courfeyrac on the other. In the middle of the table sits possibly the biggest cake Javert has ever seen. At least the biggest homemade cake he has ever seen. It says “Happy Birthday Dad” in several colours frosting.

“I did use my key,” Valjean laughs warmly. “But this was hardly my idea. It was all I could do to convince them to keep the lights on.”

“I would like to say, just for the record, that I didn’t forget to lock the door properly. I was told to do it like this,” Courfeyrac says emphatically.

“Courf takes surprise parties very seriously,” Cosette smiles. “But Papa said we’d startle you.”

“You still startled me,” Javert says hoarsely. There’s a lump in his throat.

*Are you too startled to cut your cake?* Jehan signs.

“They wouldn’t even let me have some frosting!” Gavroche complains loudly.

“I think I can manage cutting the cake,” Javert says gravely. There is a smile wavering on his face that he’s pretty sure won’t leave him once he actually acknowledges it. He takes the knife Combeferre hands him, but before he can touch the cake there is a scuffle in the corner. Bahorel is trying to take his camera back from Feuilly.

“He doesn’t like pictures,” Feuilly protests.

“Just one,” Bahorel insists.

Javert glances through the room. From Valjean’s warm, quiet smile, past all the young, happy faces. “Tonight, Bahorel,” he says. “You can make as many pictures as you like.” He wants to remember this. All of it. He does dislike pictures of himself, but he’ll put up with them to have a proper memento of all of this.

No sooner have those words left his mouth or a host of smartphones are being raised in the air.

“I said Bahorel,” Javert groans.

The room fills with laughter and Javert can literally not help the grin on his face. He cuts the cake and gives Gavroche the first piece. The kids flock around him and with every piece of cake he hands out there are more birthday wishes coming his way. He nods and smiles and none of them expect a full answer. They just beam at him and retreat to various corners of the room with their cake and lemonade, leaving Javert at the table with Valjean.

“I hope all this isn’t too much,” Valjean says, sinking his voice. “After a whole day of work I mean. But they were all so excited…”

Javert shakes his head. “It’s-” He swallows. He blinks his eyes, trying to ward off the tell-tale prickling of tears. “Thank you.”

Valjean smiles, leaning towards Javert until their shoulders are touching. “Happy birthday, darling.”

None of the kids see how Javert wipes his eyes and when he finally turns around with own piece of cake and they start to sing, he is smiling too wide to raise any suspicions.

fic rec feb

yuri on ice 

i walk my days on a wire / He’s both fragile and lethal, and he’s the most dangerous thing Otabek has ever let in close enough to touch.

you catch on like a bonfire / It’s one of the best and worst things about Otabek—the way he blurts things out like they’re obvious but still need to be said just because they’re the truth. 

the season of spirits / He did something at the last Christmas party that led Giacometti in Finance to call him “Table Master Yuuri” ever since.

the naming of cats / It sounds mean, and delighted, and Otabek knows that Yuri’s enjoyment of his pain is catlike because he has seen Murka do the exact same thing: dig sharp claws into skin and purr, pleased at herself.

a slow invasion of the heart / “You’re like a knife,” Otabek says, feverish. “A sword. Sometimes I think you have steel where your spine should be.” (just?? fuck me up???)

how to raise a tiger / Viktor pulls out his phone to make a notation in a document titled Yurochka’s Milestones!!

edit sober / “At first I thought you were using old breakup lines, but I really hope you never said that to an actual person.”

clueless / Another sale saved by heroic retail employee Phichit Chulanont!

Protector (Jason Todd x Reader)

Included an ask from  3waystraffic : “ If you still wanna write and still want my requests (and if it still suits you) would you mind writing a Jason x Reader where she’s very polite nearly like Damian ? It would make such a contrast between him and her, with Jason cursing like a sailor. And again, thank you for last time <3 Have a nice day!”

A/N: Here ya go. ❤  Honestly, I have a real soft spot for Jason so I’d have taken your request regardless but cause it’s Jason: very likely I’ll do it. ;) Fun fact: I worked *something* from the flirting that led to my irl relationship into this. 

An unfamiliar and obviously drunk man approached you, great. As he wobbled towards you, you looked over at the stalls and hoped your friend would be back from the toilet soon. Why did you have to be the one who always ended up waiting for the others outside the party? You reached for the pepperspray in your bag and remembered you had a pocket knife in your bra. This was Gotham, after all.

“ Well *hic* helloooo there pretty.” He reeked of alcohol. 
“ Sir, I’m flattered but could you stand a little less close to me?” 
“ But *hic* you’re hot. You sure could show me a good time, couldn’t you?”
“ I doubt it sir. You’re being far too presumtuous.” You pushed him away but he grabbed your hand and tried to kiss it, you barely pulled it back in time. Some people were starting to look at you, see you were uncomfortable, but didn’t act. 

“ Such a tease.”
“ I can assure you I’m simply not interested. I’d prefer you to leave me alone now.”
“ Hard to get eh? Fine, come here often? ” You opened your mouth again when someone else spoke up from behind you.
“ She’s not going to come back at all if she keeps running into creeps like you.”
“ Get you’re *hic* own girl. This one’s mine.” As the figure who spoke up stepped out of the shadows, the man looked a little intimidated. Anyone could tell he would easily be able to defeat the ‘creep’ in a fight with his hands tied behind his back. You recognized him as the guy you used to be in high school with and couldn’t help but think that he aged very well.
“ She’s not interested jackass. So how about you sleep off the smell and hope there are some brain cells left in there that haven’t drowned in alcohol.” 
The man tried to lunge at him, who just stepped aside and shook his head. “Too fucking easy. ” He looked at you. “You okay y/n?” You nodded, flattered that he still even remembered your name. You had, after all, not seen him in about 5 years. “I’m fine,Jason.”  
He scrambled to get back onto his feet and lunged at your protector once more, barely grazing his face before Jason grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against a wall. “Last time, you son of a bitch. Back off or face the consequences.” He gestured to a gun strapped to his upper body when the man decided to scramble.
“ Fine, have her; She wasn’t hot enough to fuck me anyway.” Jason knocked him out and looked at him on the ground. 

“ And that after the lady has been so polite to you.” 
You looked at him. “ Thank you. I appreciate the help, although i’m not sure that was really necessary.”
He scoffed. “ Questioning my methods? The overpolite thing wasn’t helping you much either.” 
“ I just don’t throw around curse words quite as easily as you do. They rarely lead to a better solution than remaining polite.” 
“ Still such a good girl. He had it coming. These kinds of guys need to be put in their place.”
You arched an eyebrow. “By knocking them out?” He rolled his eyes and and used his foot to move the man to his side.
“ There, so if he throws up he won’t die from suffocation. Better?” 
“ Oh yeah, fantastic.” He grinned at you. 
“ Ah, so you can be sarcastic.”
 Your friend walked up to you. “ Y/n! I’m so sorry, I took the other entrance inside I completely forgot you were waiting for me!” That’s when she noticed  the body on the floor. “ What happened?” 
“ This one couldn’t take a hint, pretty sure he’s not gonna try again though.” Jason couldn’t look any more appalled at the man at his feet. Your friend looked at you. “Yeah, maybe we should get inside again?”
“ Go ahead, I think I’m gonna go home. I’ve had it with this place.”
“ I could take you home.” Your friend shot him a worried look.
“ You sure this is a good idea?” She side-eyed Jason and whispered to you “ Are you sure you can trust him?”
“ Yeah. I know him.” 
“ Fine. I expect a call from you as soon as you’re home.” Jason stepped around and grabbed her cellphone from her. “HEY!” He took a picture of his motorcycle and then one of himself before he handed it back to your friend. He then recited his full name to her.“ So you have something to give the police if she doesn’t call you back in time. I am just gonna drop her off. I promise. “
“ I still don’t trust you.” He shrugged and looked at you.

“ What do you say?” 
“ I say we get the hell outta here.”
Jason grinned at you. “ Already showing signs of my bad influence on you.”
He handed you his helmet and you got on the back of his motorcycle, holding on to him tightly.
When you arrived at your place with him, he asked to lend your phone for a second, and he type in his number in it.
“ In case you need someone to curse for you again. Or someone to pretend being your boyfriend so the washed-up types stay away. “
“ That does include girls no longer hitting on you, you know?”
“ Maybe I don’t care if they stay away. If that means hanging around with you.” He winked at you and told you to call your friend as soon as you got inside your place before he left.  

Maybe you wouldn’t care either if it meant being with him again. 

Faking It - part 6 (Final Part)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, reader

After getting news about a family reunion coming up, the reader decides to set up plan to make her look like she isn’t as single as she actually is. But when when all her candidates can’t go, she’s left with the only person who she least expects to go along with the plan.

Word count: 2,2k

A/N: Last series for this week. Finals are coming up and I won’t have time to write. During winter break however I have great plans! I’ll always reblog imagines I think you’ll love so be sure to follow :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 


Originally posted by logicofalldreams

You were trapped under the weight of Bucky’s metal arm. Not that you minded really, it would be somewhat of an excuse to stay in bed. Alas, the clock was striking noon and you needed to get up to make breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead. Tomorrow would finally be day in which you can go back home to the Avengers facility.

You were able to pull yourself out from Bucky’s grip. After a warm shower, you went out into the kitchen. The sun rays already illuminating the vast space with immense light. You thoughtfully poked your lip as you tried to come up with a breakfast to make. You decided to make an omelette. Thanks to Tony, the fridge was packed with food to last them that entire week.

You were dancing around the kitchen, in a quite cheerful mood. Your Spotify playlist was connected to the surround system and you gloriously dancing along. Without a care in the world. With a knife in your hand, you began chopping up strawberries. A pair of hands snaked around your waist. You nearly stabbed the kitchen knife into their stomach, but were quick to relax when you realized it was Bucky.

He kissed your shoulder, “Morning, doll.”

“Afternoon actually,” You corrected.  

Bucky smiled before pecking your cheek and letting his hands fall from your waist. “So,” he pulled out a chair and planted his bottom on it. “What family event do we have today?”

“It’s my sister’s celebratory engagement party. Small occasion, family only.” You explained. “And tomorrow is gonna be an entire day dedicated to sports.” You rolled your eyes and spread out the slices of strawberries on Bucky’s plate.

He frowned, “I don’t….like sports.”

“Preach to the choir!” You enthusiastically slammed your fist on the counter.

He looked alarmed at your sudden outburst. You simply shrugged and continued talking. “I need to go to the grocery store and buy some stuff. First I need to make a list, because I’ll probably forget once I get there.”

“Y/N, you said that so quietly, I’m not sure if you’re talking to me or yourself,” Bucky’s right cheek was stuffed with food.

You smiled and began writing down the supplies you needed to buy. Bucky ate quietly in front of you. He didn’t strike up a conversation and occasionally sighed. After a few minutes, he set his fork down.

You looked up, “Do you want more?”

He shook his head, “It was delicious, Y/N, thank you.”

“No problem,” You pushed yourself off the island. “I’m gonna go to the grocery store, want to come?”

He pursed his lips.

“It’ll be fun and I need a strong man with a metal arm to help me carry everything cause I’m a weak women.” You dramatically placed the back of your hand on your forehead and fell towards him. Bucky easily caught you and rolled his eyes.

“You’re a dork,” he stated. “Let me get dressed.”

You grinned and took a step away to let him leave the kitchen. While you waited, you washed the dishes, cleaned up a bit around the kitchen and laid  out your idea for the preparations. You heard Bucky’s footsteps behind you.

“What car are we taking today?” Bucky asked.

“I think my car is fine,” You replied.

“Oh, don’t be such a joy killer, doll. We can take the Range Rover!” His eyes gleamed with excitement.

“No.” Before you could stop him, he was already running towards the garage. You lunged towards him, but missed him by a landslide. You pushed yourself off the floor and sprinted behind him before jumping on his back.

“Ah!” he shouted and continued running. “You spider-monkey!”

“How are you still running?” You asked as you clung onto his shoulders.

“You’re a light weight, doll,” Bucky said once you reached the garage.

“Well, my plan failed,” You mumbled and placed your feet on the floor. “So what’s it gonna be?”

He rubbed his chin in thought. His five o'clock shadow made his chiseled face look rough like he just spent a few days out in the woods. A few strands of hair fell across his face.

“The Range Rover,” He came to a conclusion.

“Grab a cart, please,” You told Bucky. “Okay, first off, we need watermelon. Two of them.” You walked off towards the fresh produce as Bucky pushed the cart behind you.

“Why do you need so much?” He asked.

“I’m gonna make a watermelon carving,” You explained and placed the second round fruit in the cart.

“Do you think your family likes me?” Bucky questioned.

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, “Why?” You bagged four mangoes before placing them buggy.

He shrugged, “Just don’t feel very welcomed. I just hope they never find out what I’ve done. They’ll think I’m a monster.” His voice trailed off and his gaze fell.

You reached out and cupped his cheeks, “You’re not a monster, Bucky.”

His arm hung at his side, “I’m not good. Anyone can say the damn words and I’m gone once again.”

“Bucky Barnes, you have a heart of gold,” You said truthfully. He laughed humorlessly. With a sigh, you lifted his arm and let his cold fingers graze your lips. Your eyes never left his as he stared intently at you.

“Excuse me.” A small old lady interrupted Bucky and you. She smiled kindly and you apologized before moving the cart to one side.

Bucky laughed, “Probably shouldn’t have done that in a grocery store.”

You giggled and looked at your list to see what was left.

“No don’t eat it yet Bucky!” You exclaimed as he looked at you innocently.

“Why not?” He complained.

“I’m not done yet,” You continued to scoop out red watermelon balls using a melon baller. “I still have to peel mangoes, kiwi, cut strawberries. Be a dear and help me, please. I’m desperate.”

He trudged towards the counter, washed his hands and picked up a cutting knife. You bobbed your head to the music and occasionally whispered the lyrics. Bucky chopped away as you began to reach the bottom of the watermelon.

“So what are we?” Bucky asked, shattering your concentration.

“Humans?” You furrowed your brows and gave his back a confused look.

“Not what I mean, Y/N. Relationship wise. What level are we on?” He explained.

Your lips pulled together in a ‘O’ shape and you scratched your head. “I don’t know. We’ve already had sex, we’re fake dating.” You paused. “What do you want to be?”

He turned to you and set the knife down before wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes met yours and he stayed like that for a few minutes. Simply looking at you, deep in thought and you wondered what he was thinking about. Was he admiring your features like you are doing in that exact moment?

“Dating,” he finally said. “Without the faking it part.”

You smiled and picked up the melon baller. “Question.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“Was that the first time you had sex since the 1940s?”

“Was I that bad? Cause my scratched up back says so otherwise,” He allured.

“Just asking,” You grinned and hopped on the island before resuming your melon balling.

“Yeah,” He said quietly. “It was. Didn’t exactly have time to go out and find someone.”

You stopped what you were doing and really began to listen to his words.

“Between what happened in Vienna and Zemo, up to Siberia, do you really think I’d have time to find someone who will accept me for who I am?” He paused. “I trust you Y/N. With my life even. You can probably no doubt kick my ass, but there’s something about you that makes me want to protect you.”

You slid off the island and wrapped your arms around his waist before resting your head on his muscular back. He seemed to relax at your sudden touch. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Because even the most damaged soldier has a weakness.”

“Y/N this looks amazing!” Erika exclaimed referring to your fruit masterpiece. “I knew there were some perks to having a talented sister.” She saw Bucky and smiled. “Good to see you again, Bucky.”

He smiled slyly, “Likewise.”

You turned to him when your sister left the two of you. “Now you can eat all the fruit you want.”

He didn’t hesitate and grabbed a bowl before filling it with with watermelon and all kinds of fruit. You went in search for your Mother, knowing well you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t come to her. She was talking with with you Aunt Hazel. A look of worry was written across you Mother’s features.

“Mom,” You started. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Y/N. Hazel here is just having a few pains,” She explained.

“Is the baby okay?” You asked, concerned.

She straightened up, “Yes, I’m sure.”

You frowned, but decided to not push it. Your attention was turned back to Bucky. He was surrounded by your nieces and nephews. You rushed to his side, not because you were afraid he might do something, but because you feared they might say something bad.

“Can you kill a person with your metal arm?”

“Damon!” You exclaimed.

Your nephew turned to you, innocence filled his eyes. You frowned and told the group to wander off. They did, but not before giving Bucky one last glance.

“Sorry about that,” You were embarrassed.

“They’re kids,” He said. “They have no filter. Now, are they gonna serve food here? I’m starving.”

“C'mon, let’s get you a plate,” You tugged on his arm and led him towards the table where the majority of your family was seated.

After you got your plate stacked with food, you took a seat next to your Uncle Matt, with Bucky on the other side. He smiled and dug into his food. You took this time to catch up with Uncle Matt, since you haven’t been able to do that since you arrived.

The evening dragged on and you were having a great time. You and Bucky were consonantly being pulled into various conversations about what you’re doing in New York and what he personally does for a living. Things that weren’t discussed the first night you came.

“You don’t work at all,” You Aunt Nancy burst into a cackle. You looked at her and furrowed your eyebrows at her comment. “You’re the Winter Soldier!”

“No wonder he looks familiar!” Aunt Betty joined in. “He blew up that building in Vienna earlier this year. Y/N is dating an assassin!”

Everyone turned to you and Bucky. Your Mother gave you look of unbelief, maybe hoping that your Aunts were wrong. Anger bubbled inside you, your grip tightened around the small steak knife. Bucky cleared his throat and looked down. You rested your hand on his knee.

“Y/N is as pathetic as I remember her,” Aunt Betty laughed.

As fast as light, you flung the knife towards her. The blade cut her ear and impaled the wall behind her. Your sister screamed at the sudden noise. You slammed your fist on the table and stood up.

“And you’re as pathetic as always,” You spat. “Yeah, Bucky is the Winter Soldier, but he never did that stuff. He didn’t blow up a building in Vienna. He did things in the past, things he didn;t want to. Is that stopping me from loving him? No.” You paused. “I’m done lying to you all. Mom,” You turned to her. “I’m not Tony Stark’s secretary. I’m an Avenger. I only know Captain America himself because I work with him. Because I spar with him each time we train. Natasha Romanoff is my close friend. Sam Wilson and I got out for drinks every Friday night. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are the nicest people I’ve met. Tony Stark is like a father to me and Thor is my best friend when it comes to books. And they feel more like family than any of you ever will. They actually care and respect me. ” You laughed humorlessly. “And you know what? I wasn’t even dating Bucky in the first place. I only asked him to fake date me to impress all of you. To prove myself to you all, to show you that I am not the same person. I shouldn’t have come back.” You pushed the chair back and fled from the house.

Bucky was dumbfounded at your confession, but recovered and stood up before following you out the door. You ran onto the sand and fell to your knees. He stared at you for a while before sitting next to you. Bucky pulled you towards him and held you. You shuddered and clung onto his arms.

“I hate this,” You said, your voice muffled. “I hate them all.”

“Don’t say that,” Bucky stated.

“How could they say that about you, Bucky? It’s not right. They’re always so judgmental and hateful towards other people. Me especially.”

“You hate you Aunts, not your entire family,” He corrected.

You kissed his cheek, “I hate you.”

“I thought you loved me,” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“That too,” You smiled.

He stood up and helped you off the sand, “Let’s go home.”

“Home? The house?” You asked.

He shook his head, “Avengers facility home.”

You smiled at the thought of reuniting with your true family.

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*Tumblr didn’t let me tag a few users so I will just send you this part via message

redhawke-deactivated20170628  asked:

omg id love to hear what ur reasons are for putting josie into slytherin !!

Are you ready for an essay? 

At first glance, Josephine looks like she’d be in Hufflepuff, right? She’s nice, she works really really hard, and compared to her friends with their giant swords and magic fireballs, she’s downright nonthreatening. But we Puffs are all about the loyalty, the fair play, the power of friendship, ect., and as much as I love her, those aren’t actually Josie’s strongest character traits.

Look, the Game’s not really a place for fair play. It’s all underhanded and behind everyone’s back and wearing masks all the time. Being fair gets you irrelevance if you’re lucky, assassination if you’re not. Does Josie have a moral code? Absolutely. Does that moral code preclude committing social annihilation and destroying people’s livelihoods, social standing, and marriages if they’re in her way? Nope.

Before Leliana recruited her to the Inquisition, she was the Ambassador from Antiva to the court of Orlais. In the games, we’re led to believe that the Orlesian Court is the place to be, if you’re looking for power and intrigue. And Josephine somehow worked her way up from the daughter of a minor trading family that’s been essentially exiled to Antiva for a hundred years, to a powerful, dangerousappointed position. She’d be the face of Antiva in the Empresses’s court, and people in both countries would be constantly trying to curry her favor or replace her with someone they could control. She’d have to be a master of two different Games, in order to survive it for even a week. (Am I saying she told a particularly drunk and indiscreet courtier about a rival’s illegitimate child hiding somewhere in Ferelden so that their affair was exposed and their standing at court destroyed with no trace back to her? There’s no reason to think that she didn’t.)

So why does she give up this powerful position to throw her lot in with an upstart cult? Well, partly because Leliana asked her to. And partly because it’s the right thing to do. And also, if the Inquisition fails everyone’s screwed anyways. She can help it succeed. And if they succeed, that’s practically unlimited power at her fingertips. (And there’s the ambition.) 

Not every Slytherin is a caricature of the power-hungry villain. Ambition takes many forms. Josephine’s primary drive is to provide for her family. She wants to secure her siblings’ future and care for her parents when they’re older, in the same level of comfort that they provided for her.

Joining the Inquisition furthers this goal. By the time they’ve been in Skyhold a few months, she’s already able to make moves to reinstate her family in Orlais that she wasn’t able to in her years as the Antivan Ambassador. This of course uncovers the trouble with the House of Repose, and while she’s obviously afraid to have assassins after her (again, I would guess), she knows that she’s safe in the fortress she’s built. I don’t just mean Skyhold. She’s indispensable to the Inquisition. The whole organization would crumble without her. They can’t afford to let her be killed, because her contacts, knowledge and mastery of the Game are far too valuable to lose. Also, they all like her a lot. She can afford to take the bloodless route of elevating the Du Paraquettes because her defenses are impenetrable.

Now, this propensity towards non-violence might not look like a Slytherin trait on the surface. She expresses guilt over deaths that she’s caused, directly and indirectly, and she is a very empathetic person. That’s not to say that the other members of the inner circle don’t express guilt over pain they’ve caused, but everyone you can take in your party is obligated to kill people, and Leliana and Cullen lead a spy network and an army. It’s not as easy for them to say things like “killing people is bad and I don’t want to do it.”

But while she’s not knifing anyone in the back or freezing them solid, Josephine’s merciless in her own way. Her war table suggestions are all about manipulation, and using other people’s efforts for the Inquisition (or her own) ends. “Let the city think they owe us a favor,” “Frame the search for the kidnapped soldiers as a hunt and the nobles will help.” And then there’s the mission to support one noble in Lydes over another. Her offer? “I can destroy Caralina’s marriage with four words and the proper glove left on the proper table.” That’s… a lot.

I’m going to sidetrack for a moment to Leliana, who’s often a foil for Josie. Leliana herself sets up this comparison. She’s calculating, experienced and even violent, while Josie is kind, hard working and “an innocent in love.” I’m of two minds on this dichotomy. On one hand, Leliana clearly believes this. She sees Josie as needing her protection and guidance. Leliana works in the shadows, cuts corners in the Game as Josie stays within all the rules. But, this good cop bad cop routine makes them both much more effective, and I’m sure Josephine’s aware of that. She absolutely uses Leliana’s spy network to make sure she knows the ins and out of every family and scandal in Thedas so she can apply the right sort of pressure. They augment each other’s effectiveness, but thy’re by no means opposite. 

Back to ambition. In the epilogues (as long as you’ve done her quest), Josephine goes back to her family and manages a successful and rapidly-growing fleet of ships. This was, of course, her end goal. It’s not as lofty as being Divine or Magister or Inquisitor, but she’s still got allll her contacts. International trade requires international friends, contracts, and communication. I’d bet her fleet is the easiest way for Leliana’s spies to move around, and that’s she’s paid for that help in secrets. 

I’ve always thought the smartest way to be powerful isn’t actually to be the most powerful. Having the most power is dangerous (ex. The Elder Wand). It’s better to have influence over the powerful. And Josephine knows where the Inquisitor stashes that chocolate they swear they don’t have.

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 73 - Her Saviour

Originally posted by fallenhuntersx

Originally posted by mypapawinchester

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…


Chapter 73 - Her Saviour

[When Negan turns up to find Blake tied to a tree with a knife held to her throat, the dark-haired Saviour is anything but f*cking pleased…and the Wolves are about to find out just what lengths he is willing go to, to protect her. Although it might not just be her fate he has put on the line…]

WARNING: Graphic violence/strong language/mentions of rape. Read with caution.

It’s a long one. I hope you enjoy!

Blake breathed hard now, staring at the moustachioed Simon as her eyes met with his.

She wasn’t particular surprised that he was here, knowing that Negan had likely asked them to follow him at a distance. But she was truly and utterly relieved that Negan had sent a search party after her so fast.

But before she could say anything to him, the wolf named Derek readjusted his grip on his knife and staggered over to her, tugging Blake’s head hastily back by the hair, before pressing said-blade, to her slender and exposed throat.

Blake felt the air leaving her lungs now…as she struggled to keep still, feeling the weapon press deeper and deeper into her skin.

“I-I’ll fucking do it!” said the black haired man through gritted teeth, pointing at Simon with his other hand. “I’ll bleed her out right now!”

But Simon just stared back at Derek lazily, not saying a word, as suddenly, there was movement in the undergrowth behind him.

And it was then, as casual as ever, that Negan stepped out of the shadows, with that cocky swagger of his, his usual dark leather jacket shrugged haphazardly over his torso, with Lucille propped up across his slumped shoulders.

Arat followed closely behind now, along with four or five other Saviours, Blake vaguely recognised, all carrying guns and intimidating weapons of their own, coming to stop just at the tree line.

But Blake still couldn’t relax, not when she knew just how bloodthirsty and unpredictable the Wolves could be.

Although, so could Negan…..

And right now, if looks could kill, then Derek and his buddies would have been dead hours ago…

For Negan looked livid, his face set grimly, his lips narrow. And even from here, Blake could see a tick in his cheek, as he clenched his long jaw tightly, obviously grinding his teeth.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

MC was cooking for Ieyasu but she taste a poison meant for him :)

OMG, this is related to Masamune’s event story! Hope you like this! ^^


“Poison meant for him”

“Is that for Lord Ieyasu?” she asks the retainer holding a small bag. “Yes, it is. Do you happen to know where he is?” The retainer asks her. For some reason, she realizes that he seem a bit awkward and nervous by her approach, as if something was wrong. “He should be training at this time. If you’d like, I’ll hand it to him,” she offers. The retainer hesitates but smiled in return and hand her the bag.

“Please do make sure it is sent to him,” he insists. “What is it?” she asks him with curiosity, wanting to know what was so important that it was to be made sure to be given to Lord Ieyasu. “A special spice from the Europeans,” the retainer answers her.

Her eyes widens at such ingredient. “Then is it alright to use it in his lunch?” she asks him. He nods, telling her it was the best seasoning in food like soup. Then after a farewell, she decides to prepare Lord Ieyasu’s lunch with the ingredient. After starting the preparations, she opens the sealed bag and sees the special spice. The color looks so rich. I wonder how it tastes, she wonders. Her index finger then dips into the spice and a very small portion sticks to it as she brings it to her mouth.

“Mmh, this tastes—” but before she could say another thing, her throat burns and she coughs nonstop. This. What is this? She wants to cry for help but the cough kept coming and she can’t say anything. Her head starts feeling heavy and the next thing she knows, everything turns black…

Meanwhile, Ieyasu, having no idea of the situation trains continuously with his retainers until a maid comes rushing out to tell him what has happened. “What?” His sword falls immediately to the ground.

After dismissing the doctor, Ieyasu returns by his lady’s side. He stares at her helplessly unmoving body. He didn’t wanted to believe the situation that laid right in front of his eyes. She was poisoned but as much as he wanted to punish the one who did this to her, he had no idea who he was and had to wait until she woke up to ask what happened. Her face was much more pale than it had been. He wanted to blame her for her foolish actions but surprisingly couldn’t bring himself to do so. This was when he starts realizing once again how much of an impact she has been to his life.

“Why am I like this?” He softly chides himself for the strong feelings that grew attached to him. If it had never been for her actions and words, he would still be the ruthless and heartless lord he was before the feelings developed. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret these feelings either and buddies his face in the palms of his hands at the thought of the man he’s changed into.

The sound of a shuffle alerts him right away and he looks up to find her slowly forcing her eyes open. “Finally awake now are you? How dare you bring yourself to think it is okay to worry me like this?” although the words are harsh, he sighs in relief at finally being able to know that her eyes were open. She slowly sits up and opens her mouth to speak but the words never comes out. She blinks in confusion and brings a hand at her throat.

Ieyasu knew what this was. The doctor had told him there was a high possibility of her being unable to speak because of the poison and he was right. Ieyasu didn’t wanted to worry her but he knew she would find out anyways. “You’ve been poisoned,” he decides to tell her the truth. Her eyes widens in shock, the fear in her eyes growing strong. He knew this was what she would react as so he wasn’t too surprised but that didn’t hide the fact that he was angry and worried for her. “I’m sure someone like you can remember the face of the person trying to kill her right? Let’s go,” he grabs her arm with no patience to search for the man but her arm forces him back. He looks back at her, the tears in her eyes about to burst out any minute. He sighs and sits back down. “Why stop me when I can kill the guy trying to kill you?” he questions. But then he realizes that she couldn’t speak so he stands up to get a paper and something to write with for her then sits back down and waits impatiently for her to write down her every thoughts.

“The poison wasn’t meant for me, I believe it was meant for you.” Ieyasu blinks in confusion after reading what she wrote. “What are you saying? If it was meant for me, why did you take it?” he asks her. After reading everything she wrote to explain herself, his shoulders slumps. The poison was given for him but she had foolishly tasted it instead. “This is why you are an easy target. If you keep up this foolish act, you’ll die for sure because of your actions,” he keeps on lecturing her on and on then he stops when she looked too dejected for him to ignore. “I will kill him for you, let’s go,” he once again takes her hand to leave but she forces it back again. “What now?”

She could hear the anger in his voice but because they were lovers, she had to bring herself to say what she feels. “I’m scared,” she mouthed the words for him to hear.

He wanted to lecture her again but because he knew she was going to cry, he sighs and brings her into his arms without a word. Touched by the familiar warmth, she nuzzles up against him. “Cry. It’s alright to do at least that,” his voice was surprisingly very soft and gentle. The tears that threatened to fall out finally does so and she cries in his arms. “I promise to get revenge and never let a thing like this happen to you again,” he swore to her as he strokes her back while she cries. Situations like this where she would cry came often so he grew familiar to do such actions to her. His heart sinks every time those eyes cried, as if a knife had stabbed him. She was the only one who could do that to him, and he hated himself for not being able to stop these tears from falling.
Birthday Kisses- Jeffmads

James wasn’t expecting much for his birthday, after all his Thomas was in france. So when Aaron knocked on the door, holding a cake, James couldn’t help but laugh, opening the door for his best friend and letting him in. “Ronnie, what is this?”  He asked with a chuckle and Aaron placed the cake down on the counter. “You get moody and depressed on days you usually spend with Thomas, and I don’t want to see you like that. So today, we’re bringing the party to you.”

“There’s only one of you.”

“Listen, neither of us go outside enough to hold a real party, so this is what we’re gonna work with. Cake and me.” Aaron declared, starting to cut the cake with a random knife he found laying around. James chuckled and walked over to him, taking out two plates and two forks then placing the slices of cake onto them. “Anyways, do you have any liquor in here? It is your twenty first birthday, so logically n- you slick motherfucker.” He said, grabbing the bottle of vodka and laughing. “Listen-” James started and Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Thomas bought it and wanted me to try some. I tried a sip and saw jesus.” He said with a frown and Aaron chuckled, putting the bottle away. “Okay, well, speaking of Thomas-” He checked his phone and grinned. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Is he going to be able to videochat?” He asked excitedly, tilting his head in confusion when there was a knock on his door. “Well, go answer it.” Aaron said with a laugh, pushing him towards the door. James opened it, expecting to see Adams, Thomas’ best friend, a gasp escaping his lip when he saw the familiar purple hoodie, his eyes trailed up to the person’s face and his eyes lit up when he recognized him immediately. “Tommy!” He screeched, throwing himself at the other male, laughing when Thomas picked him up and spun him around playfully, before placing him back on the ground. Thomas leaned against the doorway, ever present smirk on his lips. “So,what’d I miss?” He questioned and Aaron rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop being such a fuckboy.” He called and Thomas glowered at him, the glare turning into a soft smile when James went on his tiptoes and kissed his cheek.  James lead Thomas inside and cut him a slice of cake, Aaron grinning at them. “So am I the best best friend ever, or what?” He asked with a grin and James surged forward, wrapping his arms around him. “I adore you.” He agreed with a grin before pulling away and going back to Thomas.

Aaron shook his head, smiling softly. “I’m gonna go visit Lee and his dogs, you two have fun!” He called over his shoulder, walking out, closing the door behind him. Thomas and James finished their cake around the same time and Thomas looked over at him. “C'mere” He said softly and James quickly walked over, letting out a yelp as he was pulled into Thomas’ lap, a pair of soft lips meeting his own. James tilted his head to better the angle of the kiss, quickly kissing him back, looping his arms around Thomas’ neck to keep himself from falling. He held back a giggle at the taste of cake lingering on Thomas’ lip, but when they had broke away from the kiss, James couldn’t help but make a small comment on it. “Cake is a good taste on you.” He said with a laugh and Thomas chuckled, leaning forward and sealing his lips over James’ neck, sucking a small bruise onto his skin. James let out a soft gasp, tilting his head slightly to give Thomas more access, whining softly when the other male pulled away.  “I wanna talk to you.” Thomas whined and James chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. “Then talk. How was France?” He asked and Thomas’ eyes lit up. “It was amazing, the culture there was just, incredible. And the food? God, I could survive off those crepes, Jesus on a bicycle was it all amazing.”  He said happily, his eyes lighting up. James chuckled, glad to see his boyfriend happy. “Does this mean you lost your southern flair?” He teased and Thomas chuckled, a voice laced with honey and drizzled with a southern accent speaking. “Of course not, sugah, I would never turn my back on y’all.”

“Damn it.” James teased and Thomas laughed. “Hey, you’re from the south too!” Thomas pointed out with a pout and James chuckled. “I missed ya, Tommy.” He mumbled and Thomas let out  a soft sound of content. “I missed ya too, Jemmy. Now we gotta fulfill all those birthday kisses.”

Pajama Party Head-Canon.

  • It was, obviously, Lance’s idea -He just wanted to see Shiro’s pajama once-
  • Everyone is in Lance’s Room.
  • Shiro hasn’t arrived.
  • Hunk and Pidge are throwing pillows at each other pretending it is a Voltron vs Zarkon Fight. While Coran is confused ‘cause their performance is not what he was expecting.
  • Keith is not wearing a pajama. “BeCaUsE we’re in the MiDdLE of a WaR guys. C'mon.”
  • Shiro is not around, yet.
  • Lance and Allura are playing as herself and Haggar with Hunk and Pidge.

Lance: Keith, do you have any knives with you?

Keith: WHY, would I have Knives WITH ME!!??

Pidge: Because you’re Keith and you’re SooO Emo…

Hunk: Plus we need a knife. It’s a small version of the Sword.

Keith: Well I do not have a knife. And even if I had one, I wouldn’t give it to you.

  • Shiro has finally arrived.
  • He is not wearing a pajama, like Keith.

Keith: Great, an Adult. Shiro, can you tell them that this is stupid?

Shiro: Well yeah…

Everyone: …

Shiro: I didn’t know this was a PAJAMA Party. Guys, the note you send said “Night Time Party”.

Keith: WHAT??!!!

Mean Queens Ch.7 (Group Fic) - NymphCAMP

Nymph’s A/N: Honestly, Dottie is the only reason this got written. Sue us, we’re lazy. (and busy). Thank you also to everyone who’s been leaving wonderful feedback and sending us some amazing asks, we appreciate each and every single one! Enjoy this Mean Queen’s chapter (it’s the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning), it’s not going to be fun for much longer.

PureCAMP’s A/N: This one goes out to Dottie who WILL NOT STOP BUGGING US. HERE IT IS YA FILTHY CUNT. Anyway, have more of the only reason I currently eat and sleep - mean queens. <3 thanks for all the love!!

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In An Instant: Part Two

Summary: A romantic comedy about what happens when love literally falls through your window.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Ash (aka me), Steve Rogers, Others I can’t remember right now

Warnings: Language, general gross cuteness, some angst, bad writing, bad storylines, possible cheating, but mostly major fluff and feels

A/N: I’m excited guys. This should be a fun series. I will only be taking 25 tags on this series. Sorry, it just gets to crazy with a bunch of tags. I’ll try to make a masterpage with the tag list count. Let me know what you think!     xoxo - Ash

|Part One|

Originally posted by enochianess

“Where in the hell have you been, man?” Sam, Bucky’s best man, asks frantically. “I’ve been looking everywhere. You didn’t answer your phone”

Flashing his dead cell phone, Bucky shrugs. “It died. Where is everyone?” Bucky asks, peering around sparsely crowded bar.

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