dig on for victory

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

  • interviewer: where do you see yourself in 10 years
  • me: hmm, great question, the year is 1922; I'm on an archaeology dig wearing a loose cotton shirt, my hair in victory rolls & a leather bound notebook strapped to my leg, someone yells "hey, we got something down here!" and—
  • interviewer: ma'am —
  • me: oh man you're right victory rolls weren't a thing until the 1940s that's embarrassing, so anyways as I was saying

hermione granger is not thin. when she studies, thick body curled over the table and eyes blinking to focus, the heel of her palm pushes up the fat in her face. her stomach stretches out her shirts and her legs strain against her jeans. she has power in her weight, digs her feet through the ground like she’s planting a victory flag, steadies herself as an anchor into the earth as her wand sparks with color. the magic within her bursts at the seems and overflows from the britches of her skin.

ginny weasley is not thin. she is coated in armor, thighs thick from strapping her body to her broom, arms wired from whipping the quaffle across the pitch, hands calloused from the wood twisting against her grip. her abdomen is drawn deep with sets of squares defining her strength. her back is lined neat with ripples of muscle explaining her triumph. her face is fixed with a smile, a certainty of herself, an intonation daring anything to cross her.

luna lovegood is not thin. at seventeen, baby fat still gathers in her cheeks to lift when she smiles. her tummy is ghosted with cellulite in the exact lines of constellations (she traces her stars in an absentminded habit, reciting their names under her breath). her arms are chubby and her sweaters hang loose down her fingers anyway. her body is soft, skin feathered, hands warm. she carries more things this way, decorates herself with jewelry and trinkets like her very existence is a celebration.

molly weasley is not thin. she held seven babies in her womb whose growth stretched out her stomach and left it there. she bakes pies and makes chocolates and she stores their flavors in her face, her neck, her legs, her back. she envelops her children in wide arms, lets them bury themselves in her hugs. she is drenched in comfort and basks in its glory. she exudes a love too strong to invert anything, so powerful it builds her outwards instead.

anonymous asked:

pharmercy prompt - just fluffy cuddling on the couch after a long day

My day got real bad real quick so I’m so glad that I didn’t do this prompt earlier. I think everyone needs a little fluff in their life.

It is the smallest couch in the base, surely. A love seat that had been abandoned in the hallway, and later moved into Fareeha’s dorm upon reinstatement.

Fareeha is confident no one misses it. She is not entirely sure how it came to be at the base to begin with, though if her mother is to be believed, it was purchased by Gabriel Reyes to liven up the atmosphere. And liven it does:

It is purple with silk threaded patterns. Loud does not begin to describe this particular piece of furniture.

It is also uncommonly comfortable.

Fareeha groans as she opens the door to her room, throws her travel bag in a corner to be dealt with later, flops on the couch.

It has been a long day, a long week, dragging a little more, a little longer - there is a hole in her abdomen not quite healed, from a well aimed bullet and a poorly executed dodge. Lúcio, her partner on this mission, had healed it as best her could, but it still burns.

Mostly, she is grateful he was not injured; the mission had been poorly planned and executed even worse - it could have gone south, and it hadn’t by sheer grace of retreat.

Fareeha hates retreating, though if everyone is able to walk away … she supposed that in and of itself is a small victory.

Fareeha breaths deeply, digs in her pants pocket for her communicator and looks for Angela’s number. She is the most recent contact. It is easily located.

I am back. She types out, presses send. A few moments later, a reply:

I’m still in the lab. Can I drop by later?

It seems only fair that Angela would still be busy. And aching, the onset of a headache, feeling tired and a little miserable, Fareeha types:

That’s fine. I will leave the door unlocked. And tosses the communicator on the bed.

She doesn’t intend to fall asleep, the lull of the broadcaster on the TV, the hum of the light above her, the weight of the day, all seem to work in tandem though, and soon she is; one leg thrown over the end of the couch, the other hanging off the side. Her arm is draped over her eyes.

She doesn’t even hear the door open.

Angela’s eyes are strained from looking through her glasses (her contacts dried out the other day, she forgot to put them in solution) her hair is disheveled; Fareeha being back is a saving grace.

When Fareeha is gone and no one is there to distract her, she works too much, for far too long. There always seems to be something to do and never quite enough time to do it.

When Fareeha is around, her desire to work is tampered by her desire to do … other things, and so she packs up early, makes her way to Fareeha’s, opens the door.

She expects to find Fareeha awake, but doesn’t.

In fact, the other woman looks utterly worn out. There are new cuts, bruises, a black eye Angela isn’t fond of. Against the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs above, all of this is laid out for Angela and she sighs to think of what Fareeha has been through.

Angela moves to turn off the TV, goes to the bathroom to pull out the first aid kit and then returns.

She pats Fareeha’s calf, is surprised when she doesn’t immediately stir. Fareeha is not a heavy sleeper.

“Fareeha,” she says; this does the trick. Fareeha blinks once, twice, retracts her legs to give Angela room to sit. “You look awful,” Angela tells her. Fareeha smiles behind the exhaustion.

“You don’t,” she replies, grabs Angela’s hand to place a kiss in her palm. Angela smiles in spite of herself and shakes her head.

“Is this all of it?” She asks, referring to the injuries, but they both know. Fareeha wordlessly lifts her shirt to show Angela the bullet hole, other minor injuries. Angela, sensing more, runs her hand over the waistband of Fareeha’s pants, tugs it down a bit and sees more there, too, running down her hip, presumably to her thigh.

“You are being very forward.” Fareeha grins, looks her in the eyes in challenge. Angela meets her on that battlefield. Blue so firm it looks steel.

“Take them off,” she tells Fareeha. Whether it is defeat that moves Fareeha or genuine affection, she winks, shimmies out of her pants, takes off her shirt, sits in front of Angela in only her bra and underwear.

Nothing is particularly life threatening. Lúcio is a good medic and he’s tended to everything to keep anything from festering. Still, it is good to be on top of these things. Angela ignored the image of literally being on top which flashes into her mind, and blames Fareeha entirely for exposing her to too many puns and double entendres.

Angela opens the first aid box, removes a sterile cloth and some ointment to stop infection.

Fareeha sits on her half of the couch as Angela dabs here and there. The cold medicine sends goosebumps up her exposed flesh and the ache and fatigue of the week cause her to slouch just a bit.

“I take it it did not go well,” Angela says quietly as she works.

“I wish that it had gone better,” Fareeha replies, somewhat vaguely. In truth, she is only trying to spare Angela. The doctor does not need to know the specifics of their failure to know that had it gone worse, maybe someone would not have returned.

Or, perhaps Angela already knows this, and Fareeha is just trying to avoid reminding her.

When Angela is done she places the kit on the ground, and falls into Fareeha, satisfied when the other woman puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes lightly.

It has always amazed Angela how warm Fareeha is, even dressed down.

“How was your week?” Fareeha finally asks.

“Long,” Angela replies, turns in Fareeha’s arm to smirk a bit and then adds: “but better now.” Fareeha grins.

There is a lot Angela wants to talk about; a lot she has accomplished this week, but when she looks back and Fareeha the other woman’s eyes are closed, her head lulled back against the top of the couch back, her breathing is even and long, and Angela is not opposed to waiting.

She ducks out of Fareeha’s arm, grabs the blanket off the bed, and then returns, draping it over them both and snuggling close.

This is her favorite part of long days, the closeness and the security. Even on a cramped couch (hideous as they come).

It is worth everything to Angela.

At some point, Fareeha wakes up with a cramp in her neck to find Angela pressed into her side, snoring lightly, a blanket over them both, and it is fortunate for her that Angela is not only light but also a deep sleeper.

She picks her up, lays her on the bed, turns off the light and then joins her.

When she sleeps, it is soundly for the first time all week.

Keeping Time Part 1 (Tim Drake x Reader)

Schninner: Okay guys, so this wasn’t requested, and I still have more to do, but I’ve had this idea for a series for a while now and have FINALLY figured out how to write it! I’m super pumped how it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did writing it! XD

(Reader is a girl)

Warnings: Kidnaping, mentions of torture, swearing, THE ANGST!!!!

Word count: 1157

Tagging: @maruthor @the-singing-canary @preppygothica @cuddles-for-cassie @comicbookworm @alfred-the-cat-writes @angstytodd @isabellegunawan @speedypan(I hope you all don’t mind that I tagged you, I just got really excited for how it tuned out and I wanted to share my joy :D)

Part 2

Master List

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. The faint noise of a clock sounded from inside the silent room.

“Tiiiiiim,” You lazily cried, leaning your head over the arm of the chair, letting your [H/C] hair fall over the side. You looked at the upside down back of your boyfriend’s head, who was hunched over his laptop

“mmhmm?” He hummed in response not bothering to look towards you.

“I’m bored, let’ do something!” you groaned, throwing your arms above your head in exasperation.

“mmhmm, that’s nice sweetie.” He automatically responded with his voice in monotone.

You pouted, sticking your lower lip out, while rolling over right side up. You leaned on your elbows, and scrunched your eyebrows in irritation.



“I’m pregnant.”

“That’s nice hun.”

That was it. No sign of shock, or of emotion at all to be exact. Just the same old monotone voice as he sat hunched over the screen. You rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a thud. Hopping to your feet, you made your way over to your boyfriend until your reached his side. Crossing your arms, you gave Tim a disapproving look, watching his eyes dance back and forth across the screen, his face illuminated with bright light.

Something shiny caught your eye, causing you to tear your harsh gaze from Tim’s face and to his wrist where a silver watch rested. A devious smile came across your face as a ploy formed in your mind. You subtly inched your hand closer to his until it was resting on the watch, and using your best pick pocketing and sneaking skills, you managed to slip the watch from his wrist without him noticing.

You beamed victoriously, stepping away from him and putting the beautiful dev8ce on your own wrist. You held your hand out in front of you, enjoying how the light reflected if the smooth surface. You made quite a show, waving your hand in the air with your newly stolen watch resting comfortably on your wrist, so much so, that you had managed to catch Tim’s attention.

He cocked his head to the side and rubbed is sleepy eyes, “[F/N], is that my watch?”

“Whaaaat?!” you feigned a look of shock pointing to yourself, “are you accusing me of thievery?” you flattened your hand against your chest mocking a look of hurt, “Why I’d never!”

Tim pushed back from his desk, and stood up, walking towards you to try to get a better look at your wrist. You continued to move your arms, obscuring his vision of the watch.

He moved closer to you causing you to take a few steps back, remaining the same distance away from him. This continued until both of you were on opposites sides of the couch.

“Come on [F/N]! Just let me see the watch!” Time called over the couch, his voice laced with a playful happiness.

“Oh sure, of course you can see it,” You replied playful, letting a joyful giggle escape your lips. “but you’ll have to catch me first.”

A wide smile stretched across Tim’s face, “oh, watch me.”

He faked a left, causing you to run full speed to the right. At the last minute, Tim cut right, causing you to squeal in realization of hat he did. Before you could get away, he managed to wrap his arms around you, tackling you to the ground, cushioning your fall with his body. He grabbed your wrist with the watch on it and observed the devise closely.

“Aha!” He shouted victoriously, digging his fingers into your sides tickling you mercilessly. “You thief!”

The study erupted with fits of laughter, wriggled and writhed, trying to get out of Tim’s grip, but to no avail.

“Please… Tim! Stop!” You gasped in between each laugh.

“Fine,” he replied finally releasing you from the tickle torture and lighting kissing your nose, “and next time? Try getting my attention some other way.”

Still breathing heavily, you looked up at him with a smirk, “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

Tick tock, Tick tock, tick tock…

The clicking of the watch on your wrist bounced aimlessly off the stone wall of the cell you were in, amplifying and intensifying that once small soft noise.

You glanced at the watch. His silver watch, and checked the time.


He’d be here soon, but not the he that you were hoping for, no, someone far worse. You looked past your watch and to your bloodied, bruised, and scarred arms, the scars in which that man, no, that monster had cut into you. Trying to break you, to mold you, into something unrecognizable.

And yet here you were, bloodied, bruised, and defiled, yet still in one piece, still intact. You closed your eyes, listening to the rhythmic sound of clock, and letting the happy memories of Tim, your Tim, wash over you, heal you, stitch up the seams that had been beginning to tear away.

The sound of something metallic scraping against stone ended your fantasy in an instant, bringing you back to the here and now.

“Well, well, looks like Bat’s lilt brat has finally woken up from her nap.”

The Owner of the voice stepped into the light, which glared angrily off his pale white chest and illuminating the ticks and crosses counting the number of lives he had taken. Victor Zsasz continued stepping closer and closer to you, with a sharp knife held in his hand.

A scowl formed on your face as his face became mere inches away from yours, his smile showed each one of his yellowed teeth, and h=you had to restrain yourself from gagging as he exhaled in your face. His dirty and bloodied hands played at the ends of your mask, tugging it ever so slightly, but not removing it.

“So, is our little baby bat ready to learn today?” His eyes wide in excitement, and his breath rancid with rotten meat.

Without a warning, you through your head back, and brought it crashing forward, meeting Zsasz’s fore head and causing his nose to spew blood. He staggered backwards holding his bloodied nose with his free hand.

“You to hell.” You growled at him with a raspy voice.

He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, a vicious smile implanted on his face.

“Oh ho ho,” he responded, hastily coming toward you with a knife in hand, which he swiftly raised, and brought it down into your thigh causing a scream of pain to escape from your lungs.

But above all the screaming and pain, the sound of hope rang out, filling you with faith and determination, a sound that reminded you that this would soon be over, that this agony would soon end. This sound came from a small silver watch, a watch that belonged to the person you cared most about. And on and on, the sound continued,

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…


THIS IS SUCH A DIFFICULT POSITION.  Because it comes with a whole lot of context–Palpatine has just told Anakin that the Jedi will no longer report to the Senate, but that they’ll instead report directly to him.  Things with Palpatine have gotten bad enough that Bail, Mon, and Padme are already forming the Rebellion. Palpatine has been pushing, since day one for more direct, personal control over the Jedi, who clearly don’t want him in their affairs and have been doing what they can to keep their distance.

But they bend to the political pressure here, to have Anakin put on the High Council, despite that they clearly don’t want to do it, the only way they can stem this tide even a little bit, to push back against Palpatine’s draconic manipulations, is to not confer the rank of Master onto Anakin.

Doubly so when it looks like–AND IS LITERALLY TRUE, THIS IS EXACTLY WHY IT HAPPENED–that Anakin was appointed to the High Council because he was Palpatine’s friend.  Not because he actually earned it (he’s more skilled in the Force than they are, but his immediate explosion when he gets the news just shows how much he’s not ready yet) but because Palpatine appointed him. And Obi-Wan’s right as well–Anakin didn’t ask for it, but he certainly wanted it and got upset when it wasn’t given to him the way he wanted it.

It just shows how much the Jedi had to bend under Palpatine’s political pressure, he practically snapped his fingers and got Anakin appointed to the High Council, and the Jedi couldn’t refuse.  If they’d made Anakin a Master before he was ready, it would only have made things worse–for Anakin, who would have one less boundary that he desperately needed and it would have been that much more of a victory for Palpatine’s fingers digging into the Jedi.

The Types as Faith no More Songs
  • INTJ: Midlife Crisis
  • INFJ: The Real Thing
  • INTP: Evidence
  • INFP: Land of Sunshine
  • ENTJ: The Gentle Art of Making Enemies
  • ENFJ: Last Cup of Sorrow
  • ENTP: Epic
  • ENFP: Ricochet
  • ISTJ: Everything's Ruined
  • ISFJ: Digging the Grave
  • ISTP: Caffeine
  • ISFP: Falling to Pieces
  • ESTJ: A Small Victory
  • ESFJ: Ashes to Ashes
  • ESTP: Surprise! You're Dead!
  • ESFP: From out of Nowhere


Letting go of hurt doesn’t work the way holding onto it does.
Hurt becomes a stubborn part of you.
Hurt becomes your best friend, because it has stuck around when everything else has left.
Hurt has become you.
And you’ve heard all about the letting go. And you’ve been trying to do so for so, so long.
The truth of the matter is, romanticizing your pain has made leaving it behind
a battle you haven’t won. All you can do well is hold on.

There is no metaphysical garden you can go to bury the love you have
for all the people who couldn’t love you back. No matter how desperately you dig. No matter how deep the roots have grown.
There is no flood that will come and wash away all the parts of you that are more spice than sugar, more sharp edges than anything soft. I know you want to drown the hurt. I know you want to cleanse the heart.
No fire will come burning down all the walls you’ve built around yourself, a brick added each time you thought you had healed just to find that with each new beginning, the wounds are open wide. The wounds burn and burn and burn.
As much as you wish it were this easy. As much as you would give for a simple way out,
There is no garden. No flood, no fire. There is only the daily (at times hourly) choice to be actively healing and growing and moving on.

This is where the fight begins-
You have to dig yourself out of this, one small victory at a time.
It’s not easy and it is not quick,
But darling, listen, it is worth it.
It is worth all your grit.
#poetry #beh #thehardseason #writersofig #skinnydippersprings


Request: Hi I don’t know if requests are open but if they are can you do an imagine with Oliver and the reader and Oliver accidentally touches her.

Request: Can you do an imagine where everyone is training in the arrow cave and Oliver gets a little too excited looking at you.

A/N: Special shoutout to @a-hero-complex and @capscanary for helping me figure out what to do for this!!

The fists seem to keep coming, but then, when you were training with four others, it was to be expected. A jab here, a kick there, and yet you still seem to be getting no closer to a win. But just as you thought it would never reach an end, an opening came. Laurel’s stance was weak, and with Thea occupying her attention, it was easy to throw your leg out, catching her unaware.

A grin emerges upon your lips as the blonde went down, but what follows is beyond your expectations. A gasp sounded from Laurel as she fell to the ground, her arm hitting Oliver in the back of the knee. A yelp came from Oliver as his nerve was jolted, bringing him stumbling down… right on top of you.

The fighting comes to an abrupt end, Thea and Dig being the obvious winners, but as the victorious duo help Laurel to her feet, your attention is elsewhere. Oliver is still on top of you, and as much as you may later claim it did nothing to you, it certainly held your whole attention. His face atop of yours had you holding your breath, not wanting to break the intimate moment you found yourself in.

A slight movement from Oliver and your attention is drawn down, surprisingly to your chest as your gaze focuses on just what was touching your breast. Expecting to find his chest there, you couldn’t help but be shocked to find his hand there instead. His gaze follows yours only to quickly fly up towards yours once more, meeting your eyes with a chagrin smile.

“I’m so sorry” he murmurs in a low tone, desperate for the others not to hear as his hand flies to the side, embarrassment rippling through him.

“It’s ok” you mutter in a hushed tone, your cheeks reddening with self-consciousness. But as Oliver shuffles slightly, attempting to ready himself to get up, your attention is drawn to something else, something a lot further down.

Your eyes widen as they focus on the bulge that was making itself apparent. “Sorry” Oliver groans, his head falling slightly in shame as he struggles to remove himself from your person with the utmost of care.

“Yeah, no, uh, it’s, it’s ok” you stammer, getting to your feet.

“Hey, Y/N?” Oliver calls gently, attempting to get your attention with the subtlest of style.

“Yeah?” you reply, your gaze barely settling upon him before finding your blush returning.

“I really am sorry” he apologizes, doing his best to hide the protruding excitement.

“Yeah, well,” you struggle for words, conflicted as to how to feel over the knowledge you had unintentionally excited the man. Confidence fills you as you let your gaze meet his. “Take me out for dinner sometime and we’ll call it even.”

anonymous asked:

i dont know how this would even happen story-wise, but could you please maybe draw a jasper/sapphire fusion?

Jasper Agate!!

 though she is an extremely unlikely fusion, i love the idea of her! she would be a cold, calculating warrior, wise but cruel. without Ruby’s sentiment to balance her out, i think Sapphire is a bit prone to emotional disconnection, and combined with that, Jasper’s aggression and power would make this fusion someone who sees everyone and everything as a means to an end– and that end is obtaining devastating victory!!! 

Ruby digs it.

fun-with-colors  asked:

Rage aspect, hope aspect, and the idea of determination. Thoughts?

Ooo! Great question!
Here is how I see it!

Rage is working with what you have, sticking with the reality of the situation
Hope is leaning on ideals, staying true to the dream of what comes after

Determination for Rage is about clawing your way to victory. Shoving, pushing, scrapping, digging your feet into the ground because you do not give up. You aren’t a quitter. You can handle this and take the whole world down if it is going to stand in the way

Determination for Hope is about holding honor, trusting that you can make the impossible happen. You’ll fight and fight, but you will never, ever betray what keeps you going. You’ll grab onto faith and your fate and steer the very course of history because you know that deep down it was always meant to be

Rage is the negative side. It’s dark. It’s primal.
Rage’s determination is pure, focused on then and there and moving forward, whatever it takes

Hope is the positive side. It’s bright. It’s refined.
Hope’s determination is deep, sporadic, focused on what you will accomplish when the dust settles

Rage can get lost in the moment, losing themselves in the fire and fury
Hope can get lost in the next step, unable to adapt to the current situation

Hope I answered your question fully!

No Love Lost (Ch 1)

Taegi smut plzzzz

~Here you go I hope you enjoy!~


Taehyung parents told him the same thing everyday “On one of your wrists is your true love but on the other one your enemy, be careful not to get them mixed up.”.

Now he sat on his bed looking at the newly formed words on his wist “ Min Yoongi.”. The skin around the new glowing gold smoking letters was bright red and forming blisters. The room smelt like burnt flesh. The stinging from it made his mind numb.  

He didn’t have time to focus on the pain. He looked at his other wist “Min Yoongi”. This one had lost it glow years ago. He didn’t remember the pain the had come with it, or the smell, or the color that it had glowed.  

How can someone be my true love and my enemy?

He knew the answer but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe if he was lucky he would never meet this person. End up alone. Anything’s better than this. By now the pain was getting to him. He curled up into a ball, holding back tears that fought to get out.


Yoongis father had him by the wrist, making the stinging worst. He didn’t fight to get free, he knew that it would just cause more pain to him.

“NO SON OF MINE IS GAY! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO RUN THIS SECTION IF YOU’RE GAY?! NO ONE IS GOING TO RESPECT YOU!” His father yelled inches away from his face as the youngest son yelled “FRUITY! FRUITY!” In the back


He felt his fathers grip tightening. He scrunched his eyes and bite his tongue, stopping him from screaming out. He felt a warm liquid running down his arm. He wasn’t mad at his homophobic dad, just annoyed. He would rather spend his time figuring out how the same name got on both wrists.  

One for love the other for hate  

The lights started flickering as the bunker started shaking. His father let go as he was shaken off balance. They both fell to the floor as even more cracks formed in the ceiling, making dust fall. Bookshelves fell over along with the lamp of the coffee table and finally it was over.

Yoongis father hoisted himself up with both hands, leaving a bloody hand print made of his own son’s blood. The name on Yoongi’s wrist still glowed bright red. Soon it will stop and leave holes that spelled out “Taehyung.”


Taehyungs mother wrapped his newest name in a white bandage.  

“Oh, can you relax? You could have it worst. I once knew this one girl that had this guys name  on her wrist but he didn’t have her name! She followed him around as his best friend protecting him all her life. Only to have it turn out that it was enemy and he was keeping her from finding her real love.”

The words got lost in his thoughts. He had heard this story a million times anyway. It seems everyone once knew this girl.

“Okay” she smiled tying the ends in a knot “Your father is waiting for you in the comm room with the rest of the team.” She handed him his jacket which was decorated by badges and medals.  

“Thanks mom.” He kissed her on the cheek before he opened the steel door and left .

As the commander’s son he learned how to walk with his back straight and his chin up with his hands behind his back. He kept a stern face as he walked through the base, occasionally nodding to passing soldiers holding their guns. Crates from past missions stacked high to the ceiling, having yet to be opened. Kids played around them, a couple of moms moved their kids out of Taehyung’s path.

He opened the door to the comm room. The team was watching the monitors that recording the forest while his father mapped out plan.

“I’m sorry I’m late sir.” He said while looking over the plan  

“It’s fine.” His father said not looking up “All I said was that Section 2 was going to be out tonight. Stay away from their territory to. They’re having multiple earthquakes an hour, something’s hatching or already hatched. And our main focus is food.”

“Yes sir.”

“You are dismissed.”


Yoongi sat on his bed reading his grandpas old books, not caring about the meeting that was going on. He was awed by how the surface used to look before the centi. It was so beautiful, The sky was blue, these things called birds sang. He kicked his feet up on his bed. He turned his attention to his wrists.


The name rolled off his tongue and made it numb. He couldn’t help but to smile at the stranger’s name. Then the sour taste set in that reminded him of rotten eggs or the smell of a rotting centi.  

He drifted to sleep thinking about the man he will learn to love to hate eventually, with a smile on his face.

Bang! Bang!

The knock at his hatch woke him. Yoongi sighed and walked to the door stepping on white jacket that had a few badges on it. He opened his hatch greeting his visitor with a grunt.

“Hello sir. It’s time to go up to the surface.” The new trainee Hoseok said.  

He gave a thumbs up before closing the hatch to put his gear on. Unlike section 1, section 2 was all about speed and stealth, so really all he had to on was gloves and a knife holder. He opened the hatch again. “Com'on” he said to the trainee as he started walking again.

“I heard Section 2 is going to be on the surface to! Maybe we can get to meet their commander’s son.” Hoseok similed

“Wouldn’t that be fun!” Yoongi replied in a sarcastic voice  


Taehyung was loading the guns as Jungkook threw nets, bombs, flashlights, and other supplies in black duffle bags while checking off a list.

“We’re missing five bottles of water and three tents .” Jungkook said.

“Why are you telling me this? Go get them.” Taehyung replied not taking his eyes off the gun he loading  

“Right, sorry sir.” Jungkook said with a bow.  

After Jungkook left Taehyung was left alone. The only sound in the room was clicking sound made by the guns. Without warning sobs started to fill the room. He touched his cheeks surprised at his sudden outburst, but he didn’t try to stop it. He lied down the gun next to him and threw his head back against the wall as his sobbing gout louder.

He was tired of it. He wanted to smile at kids when he was walking around the base. He wanted to put his hands in his pockets. He wanted people to know he had feelings. He wanted a happy future with his love, not one filled with heartbreak.  

He heard footsteps but he couldn’t of cared less. The realization was painful. Everything he hopped for wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t want anything he spent his whole life training for. He wasted his whole life. He was a drone, with no mind of his own.  


“GO! GO! GO!” Yoongi’s father yelled as the soldiers climb up the ladders onto the surface. The Hatched closed with a clicking sound. They looked down where their families where, were it was safe.  

“I hoped you guys packed well.” Yoongi started his speech “We will be out here for a week, gathering information about the centi and food. But focus on the centi, find weakness and what we can harvest from them.” He paced back and forth “We will be going separate ways. If you get into trouble use the flares.” Hoseok started passing out the flares “The trees are your friends, stay quiet, try to keep off the ground, If you hear clicking sound…Run.”. Yoongi got in the middle of the line. “Start running!” He yelled.  

All of the soldiers took off running in separate ways, covering as much ground as they could. Hoseok nodded  at Yoongi before turning to go his separate way. Yoongi was alone. With the cold night air biting at his cheeks. The only sounds where the sound of his feet hitting the ground at a fast pace and the sound of his backpack hitting his back with each stride.  

He heard screeching off in the distance. A flare went off in Hoseoks direction.  

Shit, I’m too far away, hopefully someone is near him.  

He grew fond of the trainee in the past few months. Maybe that was because he was the one who trained him. He couldn’t focus on that right now. He heard the heard clicking then the screeching. His steps quickened. He heard footsteps behind of him.

Does he dare turn around? He turned around and was greeted by something who used to be human. Her- it’s eyes where white with bright red veins showing. It’s mouth was teared apart by its own jaw of teeth, which were to big for it. Antennas grew out of it’s head, they seemed to move on their own. White bubbles of infection where growing up and down it’s left arm, which was way longer then it’s right. It’s shell was starting to grow on it’s back. It was wearing a orange prison jumpsuit that was covered in flesh blood.  

Yoongi almost threw up at the sight of it. This was a Transforming Centi. There’s more than one way to turn, get caught by a centi, they will either eat you or encased you in a case of fecies and salivia until you start turning. Rub up on the white bubbles, which were all throughout the landscape.  

I need to lose it  

He saw a cave that he passed so many times before. It had a small opening that you would probably have to crawl in but it looked deep. Yoongi gained speed as the Centi gained up on him. Now he could feel it’s vile breath on the back of his neck. It reached for his backpack, but missed. It grabbed his shoulder, ripping his shirt with it’s long claws. The long black claws digged into his shoulder as blood started dripping down. The sound of victory  screeching filled the forest as it pulled him back. Its ragged breathing filled his ears.  

He looked forward at the cave, he was almost there. He looked at where the Centi had him, it was mostly skin. He took a deep breath before taking off at full speed, dislocating it’s shoulder. The claws teared his skin, making three large gashes but he was free. He ran towards the cave holding his hand over the gashes. He threw himself to the ground. He felt the dirt get in to his new wound as he crawled into the cave. The creature stopped at the cave and stood there for a couple of seconds. Without making a sound it turned around a staggered forward.

Yoongi crawled deeper into the cave, it was dark. Suddenly he was tumbling forwards as if he was falling down a hill. He landed on his wound, making blood gush out of it as pain shot threw his body. He allowed himself to lay there and take in the pain, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t scream.


Taehyung only had a few words to share with his men “We stay together, We always have our guns ready. Let’s start off.” He said turning his back.

The fog pooled around their feet as they walked through the jungle landscape that didn’t seem real. Twigs broke under their heavy black boots. Everybody was quiet, all that was heard was sound of them walking and breathing, and the grass hoppers and cidas chirping in the night. Taehyung held his gun in the ready position, leery of any movements.

“Keep your eyes open for Nuts, herbs, or fruits.” Taehyung said desperate to  break the silence, it was too quiet. He was being completely honest with himself when he told himself that he was scared.

“Yes Sir. Are we looking for a campsite?” Jungkook asked. The answer was obvious but it was also obvious to him that his commander was scared.

“Yes. We shou-” He was caught off by screeching  

It seemed like the world stopped moving at that moment. Even the cidas didn’t dare continue their song.  

Taehyung swallowed his fear “Someone might need help. I will go check it out while you guys get as far away from here as you can.”

“Sir we need to stick together.” Jungkook argued  

“We can’t do any good for our section if we’re all dead.” Taehyung said walking away, not wanting to argue.

Taehyung started to make his way towards the screeching at fast pace. He got there in time to a black silhouette slid into a cave, holding on of their shoulders like it was hurt. He waited, still hearing the screeching. He instinctively moved back deeper in the tall ferns as he saw a different silhouette with it’s torso crooked to it’s lefts side. He watched the nightmare, holding his breath. It eventually staggered off.  

Taehyung rushed from the brushes, not even realizing how fast he was going. He slid in the cave.

“Hello?” He called in a half whisper half yell.

He walked forward, expecting solid ground. He fell down a stone hill, his body hit the ground with a thud. His duffle bag and gun came down after him, hitting him in the side. He prompt himself with one eyebrow.

“Well, hello soldier.”  he heard a males voice that, it was light and breathy like he was trying to fool people to think he wasn’t in pain.  

“How can you see?” Taehyung breathed, still out of breath from his fall.

“I can’t but I can hear your gun falling.” He could her the smirk in the strangers voice. “Do me a favor, can you just feel around for my backpack?”

Taehyung got on his hands knees, feeling around the cold stone floor. He felt his finger brush up against fabric. He grabbed one of the straps of the backpack. “Where are you?”

“I’m by where you first fall.”

Taehyung crawled over to the cave wall that was right under where they fell. He reached out and felt what felt like knee.  

“Yes that’s my knee, now can you please hand me my bookbag?”  

Taehyung heard a sigh of relief once he handed off the strangers bookbag.  He heard unzipping and rummaging and pretty soon there was light.  

“How did you do that?” Taehyung asked, amazed

“Lube, paper, a stick, and a match.”  

“Whats lube?” Taehyung asked cocking his head to the side

“Something my scientists made. Unlike your scientists, mine focus on making a better world.”

He ignored the strangers  last remark “Oh so your from section 2? Is it true that you guys make you bowls from shells of centi?”


“That’s  badass.”

He saw the stranger smile and only then did he start paying attention to the strangers features. The light Illuminated him perfectly. He was handsome, with a carefree face. He pried his eyes away from his face and allowed them to move down. The strangers green shirt was covered in blood  and ripped  exposing claw marks.  

His eyes widened in concern “Are you okay? We need to patch this up, it’s going to get infected!”

“Yeah I know.” The stranger handed Taehyung the torch “What’s your name kid?” He said going going back into his bookbag


Yoongi stopped his movements. It felt like someone had just stabbed his heart, he couldn’t breathe.  Taehyung. The guy that was going to fill his life with heartbreak and tears.

“Are you okay sir?”

“Yeah, I just have three large gashes in my shoulder I’m doing just fine.”  

“Do you need help bandaging yourself up?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled it “Yeah.”

Taehyung handed Yoongi torch back to him.  "What’s your name sir?“  

"Yoongi.” Yoongi saw the young handsome commander’s eyes widen “Want a kiss baby?”


Taehyung didn’t say anything. He sat there in silence, listening to the fire crackling. He rummaged through the bag trying to find peroxide. “Do you guys have peroxide?”

“Yes, It’s in the back pocket.”

He found a hidden pocket in the back and pulled out a dark brown bottle. He pulled out a black rag, which was also in the pocket. He poured some of the liquid over the rag “Do you need something to bite down on?”


He put the rag on wound and Yoongi just sat there showing no emotion. “It’s not good peroxide.” He spoke up.  

Taehyung sighed, he looked over at his bag which was full of weapons. There wasn’t anymore talking until Taehyung was done.  

“We should find away out.” Yoongi said standing up  

“Where do we go?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We go deeper.”


It hasn’t even been 4 hours since the started out together and Yoongi was  ready to leave him behind already.  

“All you guys care about is power!” Yoongi barked when Taehyung said that he should be carrying a gun around instead of a knife.

“We care about keeping our people safe.” Taehyung said in a matter of fact voice  

“Safe from what? You’re underground! Nothing is going to get you!”  

“We’re keeping our people safe from you. Just  in case you decide you want what we have.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the thought of starting a war for a couple of guns. “You’re full of it.”


It had been at least 6 hours since they started walking.The torch had gone out, It was cold, they were starving.

“Lets walk for another 30 mins then stop.” Taehyung said, breaking the silence for the first time in over an hour.

“Okay,” Yoongi nodded in agreement.

Yoongi suddenly stopped. He held his arm out, signaling for Taehyung to stop to. Yoongi put his hand on his knife and started slowly walking forwards.  

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung said with concern in his voice. Then he noticed it, something a little further down was lightly glowing purple. He got in the ready position and started walking at the same pace as Yoongi. “What are you going to do with that little thing?” Taehyung asked

“What are you going to do when you miss?” Yoongi smirked.

They were getting closer, but they still didn’t hear any sounds. Yoongi took his hand off his knife, but still proceeded with caution. When they entered the purple room they were awe stricken by it’s beauty. Inside it glowed brightly, glowing pink and blue dots where splattered all over the cave walls. It had a mini pond with lily pads that were growing pink flowers. Taehyung rushed for the pond but Yoongi stopped him before he could drink anything.  

“Don’t.” He said pointing at the white patches sitting at the bottom of the pond.

Taehyung felt his heart sink and his smile fading from his face. You can get away from it. He heard unzipping behind him as he kept staring into the water. “Here kid.” Yoongi said nudging his shoulder with a water bottle.

“Thank you.” He said taking the cork out. “Where’s your’s?”

“I only had one.” Yoongi said still taking in the beautiful scenery. “I never thought I would ever see something this beautiful in my life.” He said turning to Taehyung. For the first time he really looked at him. He sat there studying his face. The purple illuminated his face. He had a scar on his cheek, probably from the hardcore training they do in section 1. He had three moles on his face one below his eye, one on his nose, and if you looked really hard you could see one on his lip.

Taehyung handed the bottle back to Yoongi “I felt the same way. I was born into this world. I always hear stories of beautiful sights. I just accepted that I will never see one.”  

“You don’t want anymore?” Yoongi asked, taking a little sip of the water himself.

Taehyung shooked his head “No. We need to save it.”.  

Yoongi murmured in agreement. He nodded his head towards Taehyungs giant black duffle bag “What do you have?”  

Taehyung let a big sigh, rubbing arms “Guns, bombs, ammo. The rest of team has the water, food, blankets.” He could go on forever about what the team had that he desperately wanted. Yoongi blew into his hands before going into his backpack. He pulled out a black blanket and gently placed it over Taehyungs back. He noticed that the younger boy was shaking as he wrapped it around the front of him to.

“When are we going to talk about it?” Taehyung asked as Yoongi pulled out more paper and matches.

“The fact that this room round? With no opening to continue down?” Yoongi asked in deadpan voice  

“No, we can see that. There’s nothing to talk about there. I’m talking about our wrists.”  

“We can see our wrists. There’s nothing to talk about there.” Yoongi said striking the match on the side of the box again, again, and again.

“I don’t feel cold or hungry anymore.”  Taehyung said to change the subject. He smiled to himself “Isn’t it funny how people call me commander but I’m not the commander?”

Yoongi mumbled, letting Taehyung know he was listening. 

Taehyung looked at his reflection in the water that was reflecting purple “Are we going to die here?”  

Yoongi looked up from the matches and put them down. He walked over to taehyung and sat down next to him “I don’t know.” Yoongi said truthfully. Taehyung turned away, staring back at the water. He raised an arm, offering Yoongi a little warmth. Yoongi took it. Taehyung wrapped the blanket around the both of them, keeping them close. Yoongi layed his head on Taehyung shoulder, feeling oddly calm and safe. Taehyung returned the gesture by resting his head on his hyung’s.  

Yoongi lifted his chin, looking up so he could see more of Taehyung. Taehyung reached out his cold hand and put it on Yoongis cheek. He slowly brought him in for a kiss. Their lips were cold and the kiss was bittersweet but they felt fireworks go off in their head. The kiss slowly got filled with lust as Yoongi got on his knees to deepen the kiss. Teahyung moved his hand off of Yoongis cheek and moved them to his back. He started to remove his hyung’s torn shirt. Yoongi threw off the blanket so they would have more room. He let taehyung undress him, enjoying the look in the younger boy’s eye.

He started taking off Taehyungs black long sleeve shirt. Once he got it off he started open mouth kissing Taehyungs neck. He had his leg wrapped around Taehyungs waist while he sat on his lap, allowing him to feel the younger boy’s ever growing erection. Yoongi started moving his hips in circular motions, making Taehyung hiss. Yoongi felt his sides bruising as Taehyung digged his finger nails into them. Taehyung threw his head back as he made Yoongi add more pressure.  

Taehyung started to feel the kisses go farther down to his chest. Yoongi let his tongue swirl around Taehyungs right nipple before sucking. He rolled the hard bud in between his teeth while Taehyungs moans Echoed throughout the cave. He let go a taehyung nipple with a pop to move on and do the same to the other one.

Taehyung started to move his hands all over Yoongi’s back, feeling the back muscles. For the first time in hours they felt heat in their body.

Yoongi felt Taehyung try to left him “If you don’t stop grinding I’m going to cum.” Taehyung breathed.  

Yoongi stopped. He let his hands fiddle with the buttons that were on Taehyung’s cargo pants, never breaking contact with the hard bud. He got off of Taehyung lap as the browned hair boy started raising to his knees, making Yoongi let go of the hard bud. Taehyung started pulling down his pants as Yoongi undid his own belt.  

Taehyung pushed the older boy down on the cold hard stone floor, not letting him finish his task. Yoongi gasped and the cold simulating his skin. Tahyung grabbed the lining of Yoongi’s light green cargo pants and forcefully pulled them off, taking the shoes with them.

Taehyung started harshly sucking Yoongi’s neck while massaging his hyungs hard erection. He first sucked in a straight line, then in a horizontal line, making a “T”. He unattached his lips from Yoongi neck, He looked down at it, admiring his work. He ran his tongue across it to Yoongi’s chin, making the older boy shiver.  

“I guess you belong to me now.” Taehyung whispered before bringing Yoongi in for another kiss.

Taehyung’s word burned straight threw Yoongi, all the way to his sex hazed skull, making him moan. Taehyung licked Yoongis adams apple on the way down to his chest. He stopped to kiss the skin right above Yoongi boxer lining before sliding them off of him. Taehyung continued kissing Yoongi’s thighs, skipping over his length. Yoongi whined, craving the new feeling of Taehyungs wet cavern on his member. Taehyung gave a swift lick to the base of Yoongi’s member, sending waves of euphoria down his hyung spine. He swirled his tongue around the tip before wrapping his mouth around. Already Yoongi was writhing, moaning mess. Yoongi cursed to himself as the younger boy took more of him into his mouth. He arched his back as Taehyung hummed, sending vibrations down Yoongi shaft.

Taehyung never broke eye contact as he sucked off his hyung. He watched as Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together in pleasure while biting his bottom lip.  

“Ah, shit babe I’m so close.” Yoongi panted, making Taehyung work harder. He twisted his hand around the spots he couldn’t reach. “Stop, stop I don’t want to cum yet.” Yoongi said, short of breath. “Go get the lube, it’s inside pocket.”

“Isn’t that used for making fires?” Taehyung asked, getting up.

“You can use it for multiple things.” Yoongi smirked, reaching his hand out for the bottle.

Taehyung handed Yoongi the bottle. Yoongi immediately jumped to his knees and poured some of the clear liquid in the palm of his hand. He hurriedly slicked himself up with the lube.

“Get on your hands and knees.” Yoongi said, his voice dripping with his arousal.

Taehyung  quickly obeyed, not asking any questions. He felt Yoongi push himself into him, making him inhale.  

“Holy shit.” The younger boy moaned as Yoongi started to push himself in and out a slow, agonizing pace.

“You feel so good.” Yoongi praised as he picked up the speed.

A river of moans and curses spilled from Taehyungs mouth as Yoongi starting hammering into him, causing the cave to echo with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Yoongi reached in front of Taehyung and started jerking him off  vigorous speeds. Taehyung let of a scream he didn’t know he was holding back until now. Yoongi’s face contorted his pleasure as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Taehyung cursed loudly when he felt Yoongi hit his prostate.Yoongi kept ramming himself in to the younger boys prostate as he felt himself coming to his breaking point. Taehyung started rambling, to delirious from pleasure he was receiving to form coherent sentences.

Taehyungs arms gave up from underneath him causing him to fall on the ground. This new position allowed Yoongi to reach even deeper in Taehyung. Yoongi rested his forehead on the back of Taehyungs shoulder, unable to take all the pleasure, it felt like pure bliss. Taehyung reached his ecstasy, screaming Yoongi’s name. He felt his own cum shoot out and hit him on his chest. The feeling of Taehyung contracting around him brought Yoongi to his harsh climax. He pulled out and squirted his seed on the younger boys back. Yoongi flipped over Taehyung who was writhing trying to catch his breath. He trailed his tongue across pool of cum on Taehyung chest. He brought Taehyung in for a kiss so he could taste himself.  

“What about the mess on back?” Taehyung smirked, his face still red.

Yoongi ran his fingers through the spots of cum on Taehyung back. He held his fingers up to the younger boys mouth. Taehung took it in his mouth, closing his eyes while he sucked on it.  

“Com'on lets get dressed.” Yoongi said, with love in his voice.

After they were dressed they got under the blanket, in the same position as before.


Sometimes when people ask me what my favorite children’s book was I’m like oh yes Artemis Fowl it was so smart it was a series about fairies and a criminal mastermind and he was a kid and he was so smart and he was a villain who goes through a magical journey through character development but then I remember

Almost everyone’s name was a pun. Holly Short. Was the shortest fairy. Artemis Fowl. He’s an asshole. He has a butler. His name was Butler. MULCH DIGGUMS. WOULD DIG. AND HE FARTED HIS WAY. INTO VICTORY.


—  Me (in disbelief that these books existed)

IT’S HERE, IT’S HERE~ The next chapter of Fearless has finally been completed!

Without further ado, I give you it! HAVE A CHAPTER!


First Chapter-‘The First Date’- (FF.net) (Tumblr) (AO3)

Prev. Chapter (5) —— Next Chapter (7)


Title: Fearless, Chapter 6-‘One Step Back, Two Steps Forward’ (link)

Summary: Mako returns to her new One-Star apartment and her family with Gamagoori in tow, and he learns just how interesting they are and how much they fight. Meanwhile, Mako learns a secret of the Academy no one else knows.

Rated: T (Warnings: The Mankanshokus being themselves, Satsuki possibly OOC, loooots for making out, suggestive content)

Word Count: 5,941

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Okay, I know a lot will disagree with me when I say this, but fuck it. I'mma say what I want because it’s a damn free world. After reading Chapter 676 of our oh-so-beloved series, it finally clicked into me that maybe Orihime is the TRUE heroine of Bleach. Let’s review that, shall we? The main purpose of a heroine, at least in shounen mangas, are not fan service for little boys. Rather, I think the main purpose of having a heroine is to provide emotional depth to a manga filled blood, sweat, testosterone, shouting and muscles. It is the heroines’ job to balance the story because without emotions and with only pure “kill here, kill there, kill everywhere”, the story would not make any sense at all. In short, the heroine’s duty heavily revolves around the issue of morality, love and the heart, and not the power to destroy. It is probably because of this reason that a heroine’ development is differently from the rest. While the hero and side characters gains additional killing power, the heroine gains in emotional strength. While the hero and side characters receives physical injuries, the heroine receives emotional trauma.

Okay, how does that fit Orihime into all of this?

Simple, hasn’t it always been Orihime who hesitate to kill, not because she’s too soft, but because out of everyone, she is the one with the greatest sense of morality? Hasn’t it always been Orihime who introduced everyone to the concept of the heart? Hasn’t it Orihime the one who gave us the most profound love confession in the history of all manga, bordering even into shoujo territory? And hasn’t it always been Orihime who received the most emotional torture and emerged victorious? Take a detour and dig into your memories and you all would realize that even if Ichigo is the main protagonist, his emotions are most of the time hidden, while Orihime’s has always been visible to the readers. Let me tell you this, in every arc of Bleach, there is always a panel or two that involves Orihime even though Bleach is somehow grouped into four main arcs (that is, Soul Society Arc or Rukia’s arc; Hueco Mundo Arc or Orihime’s arc; Fullbring Arc or Chad’s arc; and Thousand Year Blood War Arc or Uryu’s Arc). In essence, even though there are arcs that involves other main characters, she always functions as the emotional bridge.

Okay, I know some people would say, what about Rukia?

Rukia is a special case. She is the one who introduced Ichigo to the world of Shinigami, and it will stay that way forever. No one can take away that role from her, and that is why I think that Rukia is the main female protagonist adjacent to Ichigo being the main male protagonist. However, Rukia’s emotions have taken a backseat for a while now, in favor of her advancing her powers.

In conclusion, I think the main female protagonist and heroine are not interchangeable terms, but rather separate roles that we have just grown used to, as many mangas employ both in the same person. However, we all know that Kubo is a genius, and maybe this has been his plan all along.

of vodka & dial tones part II (M)

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I’d also like to apologize in advance for the wait for part III lol. As always, I appreciate feedback. Hope you enjoy it. 

I’VE MOVED ALL MY WRITING TO A SIDEBLOG. Any continuations of this or any other writing will no longer be published on this blog (just message me and I will link you to my sideblog)

part onepart three | of vodka and dial tones tag

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Ok so I recently saw Pitch Perfect 2 (twice but who’s counting), and I’ve fallen head over heels for Kommissar, the gorgeous German lead for Das Sound Machine. The dynamic between her and Beca was too precious, so I’ve decided to jump head first into the ship. This is based off of an Imagine-Your-OTP kind of post about shower duets, and I just couldn’t resist. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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