discussing the weather

4

I cannot get over this moment. It’s dually great.

Kevin Steen allows us to watch him openly weeping after winning the NXT Championship (before he hides his face with the title). And it’s not just joy at coming to the WWE and being immediately successful (two months to the day after his debut), but getting to win his first title from his best friend. The friend that he believed he would never get to wrestle again. You can see at the beginning of the match how happy they are to be in the ring together again. What a wonderful, meaningful way to lose and gain a title.

And at the same time Kevin Owens is so fucking relieved that it was worth it. He betrayed Sami and he got the title. If he’d lost his best friend and it had all been for nothing…

At Dueling Club that year, Hermione ‘set’ a snake on Millicent Bulstrode and every horrified, accusing eye in the room turned her way. She had read enough to know what those hissing words tripping off her tongue meant.

“The Hat offered me Ravenclaw, first,” Hermione whispered glumly to Harry and Ron at breakfast. “I don’t…”

Harry crunched through a piece of toast piled high with sugar. “It offered me Slytherin,” he said, with the tone of someone discussing the weather.

“Oh,” said Hermione. “Harry, I…”

“Huh,” said Ron. “It just called me a Weasley and gave me Gryffindor. I feel minimized.”

—  the brightest witch of her age (a chosen one!hermione fic) by dirgewithoutmusic
deal | pt 3 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 3,292

warning: slight voyeurism, usual filth etc

part one | part two

Monday. A fresh start to the week, bringing a close to deadlines as new deals began. The office as always was bustling with life, colleagues sharing mundane details of their past weekend and plans for the next. However, an interesting topic or rather rumour was making it’s way around the office at a frightening speed. You’re preparing your first cup of coffee that morning when you hear it, feminine sniggers to the right of you.

Keep reading

It takes weeks for Tony to even be in the same room as Steve. It takes months before Tony stays in the same room as Steve for prolong periods of time and he’ll only do it if Rhodey is in the room. The conversations between them range from one or two words to a few stale sentences, mostly discussing the weather or the broken coffee machine. Both carefully avoid conversations about The Accords, about Siberia, about Barnes and where he is (but Tony knows). It’s practically a year before Tony stops flinching whenever Steve raises a hand above his shoulders. 

And then there’s the anger - white, burning, and, at times, blinding. Sometimes, he looks at Steve and wants to punch him. He wants to confront Steve about his parents. He wants to confront the man who said, “sometimes my teammates don’t tell me things.” He wants to taunt Steve about his “dark side” showing. And that’s just Steve.

Tony can’t look Clint in the eye without feeling anger about his comment regarding Rhodey. They avoid each other and Tony’s perfectly fine with that. When he looks at Wanda, he doesn’t feel much of anything. They weren’t close to begin with. And while he’s closer to Natasha, he doesn’t speak much to her either; although their conversations last just a little longer than his and Steve’s. He and Thor are okay, seeing as Thor wasn’t there and Tony doesn’t much care for his opinion on The Accords. Him and Bruce? They’re okay too. Tony doesn’t even bother glancing Scott’s way most times. Vision is fine and dandy and Tony has grown to enjoy his company over the months when it’s just him, Vision, and Rhodey. Surprisingly, it’s Sam that he, more or less, gets along with in regards to the ex-Avengers. It could be that Sam is good at getting people to talk? Or it could be that Sam was the only one to ask after Rhodey?

Tony doesn’t let them back into the Avengers Compound. He doesn’t invite them to the newly modeled Stark Tower. This time, they will be the one’s to swallow their pride and ask him…and Tony has half a mind to be ridiculously petty.

Re: faking dates and planning marriages

Originally posted by jeonsshi

+ “You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?”
+ “I’m personally offended that you didn’t ask me to be your fake date.”

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Words: 598
Requested by: @suga-daddy-69​ 

written for my 600+ Followers Drabbles Event (requests open!)

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The Signs as Michael Faudet Poems

Aries:

My Girl Who Writes

I watch you write,
my love, my life,
my start of everything.

Each little sigh,
a pen run day,
another painful page
begins.

Your fingers bleed,
I do concede,
for a sentence
of your making.

To which you say,
on sunshine days,
it is for words
my heart is breaking.

Taurus:

Kindness

Do you know what really turns me on?
What I find incredibly sexy? Kindness.

Gemini:

Pressed Flowers

To the quiet one,
the coy,
the wallflower.

Her dark circled eyes
buried in a book.

Hard little nipples,
dusty pink,
beneath a tatty
black singlet.

Those restless legs,
sprawled across
a squeaky bed.

Her secrets kept,
like pressed daisies
hidden by
pages read.

Cancer:

Spring

She wore the scent
of early spring
on her delicate neck
and every kiss I stole
tasted of bright yellow flowers
and buzzing bees.

Leo:

Airplanes

She rode on airplanes and fell asleep in hotel beds. Dreaming of faraway places– writing poetry with her sunset eyes.

Libra:

Stillness

There is a certain stillness, when even the gentle flutter of a butterfly’s wing feels like a hurricane.

The moment when crashing waves fall asleep, peaceful, lost to the serenity of salty dreams.

When tall tees stand to attention and every leaf pauses, takes a deep breath and holds it.

It is here, beneath the maddening silence I hear your name.

An echo of you.

Virgo:

The Gift

Her eyes were beautifully gift wrapped;
long black lashes of velvet ribbon–
and every time she opened them,
it felt like Christmas.

Scorpio:

The Mermaid

She came from the ocean,
this wild girl from the sea,
her hair flowing southwards,
she walked towards me.

A west to east smile,
with eyes steely grey,
like a storm in the distance,
rolling in from the bay.

We kissed with the sunrise,
made love when it set,
a promise by moonlight,
came dawn, my regret.

He left for the ocean,
this boy from the land,
his spirit soars northward,
his heart in her hands.

Sagittarius:

Pen Portrait

I watched as you reached for the ice cream.

Standing naked, body pressed up against the humming fridge.

A wispy trail of bluish grey smoke spiraling up from a dying cigarette.

Held precariously in the other hand, ash falling to the floor.

A just fucked wetness between your legs.

Your little smile captured in grainy black and white.

By the click of a camera.

Capricorn:

Some Days

Some days we spoke about life, other days, we discussed the weather– and whenever we laughed, it was the best sex ever.

Aquarius:

Stars

Magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she poke the language of the universe– the stars sighed in unison.

Pisces:

The Apple Orchard

He floated upon a gentle sea of rippling green.

When little yellow butterflies danced drunk pirouettes on the windy stage.

Reading the words written by fluffy white poets who wrote ever changing prose across and endless blue page.

‘Apples are funny things,’ he said. ‘You can never be sure of what you are getting until you take that first bite.’

His hand reaches slowly for the half empty vodka bottle.

‘This afternoon I discovered an apple so wonderfully perfect, I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from the outstretched hand of a wicked old witch.’

She pulled up her white cotton panties, brushing an ant from a grass stained knee.

‘I’ve been called many things before but never an apple,’ she laughed.

None of these poems are mine. I borrowed them all from Michael’s book Dirty Pretty Things. Go check it out!

Awkward Conversation

I wrote it!! 

This is not my best. I wrote this late at night after having class all day and studying for midterms so it’s sloppy but it’ll do. 

Here you go @jadeandsunsets and @dragonlover7860 ! I hope you guys like it! 

There are so many ways I imagine Stoick finding out about Hiccup and Astrid but this is the one I chose to write. 

Enjoy! :) 


Stoick was walking up the many steps to the Great Hall, where he was supposed to meet Gobber and a few others to discuss the winter weather preparations. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a giggle. 

He turned around and saw nothing behind him but then as he continued up the steps, he heard the same laugh again. Stoick peeked over the side and saw Astrid pressed against the stone and Hiccup pressed up against the girl. The two young Vikings were kissing. 

They are kissing. Oh Thor! Finally! Stoick thought to himself as he smiled at the couple. He stood there for another few moments before he realized he would probably get caught if he stood there any longer. He continued up the steps and made his way inside the empty hall. 

While waiting on the others to show, Stoick sat in thought. 

When did this happen? Why didn’t Hiccup tell me? 

Stoick figured that he could either be the father that flat out tells his son he saw the two kissing by the stairs or he could be the father that tries to pry it out of his son with awkward questions. 

Stoick decided on the second option. It seemed like more fun. 

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Let Me Warm Your Heart Part 1

Word Count : 2,200

 Warnings : None 

 Summary: Y/N is tasked with a mission to keep the weird Barebone family in check. But things don’t always go as they are planned. After all, love always chooses those paths which are the least predictable. 

                                                                     ~

The balmy weather was nice enough to warrant a visit to Central Park, a picnic would have been the ideal activity for this breezy summer day. The flowers were in full bloom and the air hung heavy with the smell of food, probably wafting from the hot-dog vendor standing nearby. Ignoring her growling stomach, Y/N glanced up at the clear skies before shrugging away thoughts of an imagined holiday. Vacations were a luxury Aurors couldn’t afford, especially not in such turbulent times. 

She refocused her attention on the gathering crowd ahead of her, as the New Salem Philanthropic Society commenced another of its infamous rallies. Y/N effectively merged within the crowd, nonchalantly staring at the flyer she had been handed. The Barebone woman continued spewing vitriol against witches and magic, assuring them that the threat was very really. Y/N’s watchful eyes swept across the crowd once, before settling on the leader of the Second Salemers as she urged the gathered people to watch out for the lurking darkness that hid so cleverly among ‘us’! Mentally, Y/N scoffed wondering how many actually believed this supposed gibberish. But disbelief was good, disbelief kept her kind safe. And above all, it was her job to keep that disbelief unwaveringly constant. 

She shifted a few paces ahead, before blocking herself from Mary Lou’s line of vision behind a man wearing a rather outlandish top hat. She continued her observation, staring at the two daughters standing beside the woman. The elder one, Chastity stood primly, projecting an image of trained etiquette and polite interest. The younger one Modesty, meanwhile, shuffled onto the steps of the bank where the rally was being held, mumbling a song and fidgeting to its tune. 

 Y/N gaze then shifted to the eldest of the Barebone children, Credence. He stood amongst the crowd, handing out flyers with shouty capitals, blaring the NSPS anti-witch propaganda. He must be quite tall, Y/N mused, as her eyes assessed the lanky boy. But he seemed shorter with the pronounced hunch with which he carried himself. Almost as if he could disappear into nothingness if he tried hard enough. 

 It had come as a surprise to Y/N when her fellow colleague Tina Goldstein had been removed from Auror services. For jeopardising their safety by violating the International Statute of Secrecy’s provisions nonetheless! Tina was a stickler for rules and for the number of cases that they had partnered together, Y/N knew her to be thorough and efficient. How she ended up losing her steam over the Barebones and subsequently losing her job as well, was a mystery. 

 What came as a greater surprise however, was when Director Graves summoned her in his office. He assigned her the responsibility of keeping an eye over the Barebones, ensuring that the safety of the wizarding community was not threatened by the enflamed speeches of an overenthusiastic zealot. While she was of the opinion that there was no harm in keeping a watchful eye over this fanatic, there was something in the way the Barebone boy carried himself that kept drawing Y/N’s attention. 

 Not one for distractions, she changed places again, this time edging towards the back of the crowd. Her gaze trained itself on the speaker again as she withdrew from the dense crowd, making sure that Mary Lou didn’t notice her. In her effort to appear inconspicuous, she didn’t realise until it was too late as she stumbled across someone’s feet. Though the force was not near enough to knock the person down, it did displace the dozens of sheets that the person was carrying. No, not sheets, flyers to be exact. 

 When had Credence slipped to the back, Y/N wondered, as they both crouched down to gather the scattered flyers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were standing here. I was in a rush to get back to work. I hope I didn’t hurt you?” she gave an apologetic smile having managed to collect a few of the papers, handing them to the gaping boy. He stared at her for a moment as their fingers brushed each other, before swallowing audibly and said, “N-no. It was, m-my fault. I shouldn’t have been…standing here. Y-you didn’t hurt me. S-s-sorry!” he stuttered nervously as tingles surged from his fingers where they had accidentally touched Y/N’s.

 She waved away his apology before smiling brightly and said, “No worries. I do hope you are alright though”, glancing at her watch she muttered under breath before continuing, “I have to go now, lunch time is almost over. I’ll see you later then! Have a good day!” she waved breezily before crossing the road and disappearing in the bustling crowd. He turned around to face the rally once more, warmth enveloping his being at the possibility of meeting the kind and pretty woman again. But the sight in front of him made his stomach fill with dread and he paled visibly. His mother was staring at him, malice dripping from her gaze; it would suffice to say that she was not at all happy with him.

                                                                      ****

 Y/N cursed herself as she hurried towards her cabin in the MACUSA. That interaction should not have happened. It was vital for the assignment that the Barebones remain unaware of her, as much as possible. It was a lapse of judgement on her part when she struck up a conversation with the boy. It would have been easier, wiser even, had she just walked away without stopping. People tended to forget faces of rude strangers stumbling across their toes as opposed to polite strangers helping them out. But on seeing him she couldn’t bring it in herself to act the part. 

 Y/N cursed herself again as she stumbled in her cabin, sinking wearily into the chair as she pulled the nearest sheaf of papers towards her. She would have to lie low for a while, make sure that her absence and the flow of time did away any traces of recognition from the boy’s mind. Sighing loudly, she read through the paperwork before signing a few and tearing away one or two. A head popped into her cabin, followed by the appearance of a smiling brunette. “Hello Miss Workaholic! Having a long day?” Y/N spared a glance from her work before giving up the day as one of the worse ones. “Abernathy”, she acknowledged his presence but that didn’t mean she had to have a conversation with him. 

 She continued staring at the application for an early release from detainment, not grasping a single letter of the 700 word document, hoping against hope that the man would just let her be. “Tough case?” Apparently not. “Not really.” Curtness and a calm demeanour was the key in such scenarios. “Care to join me for lunch? I was just about to pop out and was hoping you could join me. It’s a lovely day and you shouldn’t waste it cooped up in….” She cut him abruptly, “I’m sorry I can’t. As you can see I’m a bit busy at the moment. Paperwork does make the day long and it won’t complete by itself however much I charm my quills. They haven’t invented the artificial intelligence ones yet I’m afraid.” To hell with calmness, today was just not her day! 

 Abernathy gave her a disappointed look before saying, “Well another time I suppose. Oh by the way, Director Graves wanted to see you.” He casually mentioned that as if they were discussing the weather, the oaf! “And you are telling me now! I better see what he wants…” Y/N closed the file before exiting the cabin, Abernathy in tow. “I thought you were popping out for lunch?” She questioned her unwanted companion as he tagged along. He came to a stop as if remembering it suddenly, “Why yes. I..I shall be going then?” He questioned as if seeking permission. But Y/N had long since disappeared, his question echoing emptily across the hallway. 


 Y/N hurried towards the upper echelons of MACUSA hoping against hope that she hadn’t made the Director of Magical Security wait for too long. She wondered whether she had unwittingly jinxed herself in the morning or got up on the wrong side of the bed. Or perhaps it was the neighbour’s pet Kneazle crossing her path with a pinpointed hiss. Mr Smith had always envied her for bagging the road side apartment (something about better natural light) and she wouldn’t put it past him to rub some bad luck potion on his pet in the off chance that it stumbled across her. All in all, the day was going down in the dumps by the looks of it.

 When she knocked and entered Percival Graves’ posh cabin, this theory was further bolstered. He was staring at her with a stormy expression, rubbing his temples in a weary manner. “I had hoped you would reach here the moment I called upon you. Tardiness is unbefitting of an Auror of your stature.” His voice was low and razor sharp, cutting the air with the accuracy of a newly sharpened blade. Donning her best professional visage, Y/N answered in a voice smooth as silk, “My apologies Director Graves. I just returned from observing the targets you had assigned me and when I received the message from Mr Abernathy, I came immediately.”

 Her boss stared at her, taking her words in and making her uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny before saying in a voice that seemed louder as well as distant from the room they were occupying, “Ms Y/L/N I presume that you are not keeping any written accounts of this assignment?” This had been one of the conditions of the case and had made Y/N’s spine tingle with unease. Undocumented missions ensured the highest amount of confidentiality, but at the same time there was a danger of increased responsibility on the Auror. The Director could very well wash his hands off in case things went awry and Y/N would be stuck in inquiries faster than you could say Protego, with no real means of an escape. 

 "Yes sir" she answered him, maintaining the façade of calmness. “Good. Though it isn’t a matter of grave concern at the moment, it is imperative on your part that you keep a close eye on them without anyone knowing what you are up to.” She nodded once, showing her acquiescence. “Y/N” he called out. She was thrown off guard by the casual manner in which he addressed her. So very unlike the strict, non nonsense man known as Percival Graves. “You are a valued part of the MACUSA, your skills are unparalleled even amongst our best on field Aurors. You were top of your class and it is a privilege that you chose to work with us instead of your native Ministry of Magic. You will definitely go places.”

 Y/N swelled with pride at the praise but a tingle of worry skittered across her conscious. There was something wrong with this. “Thank you, Sir. It’s an honour…” “However, you should be careful of the path upon which you tread. A careless mistake and it could cost you your career. I would be sorry if you followed into the footsteps of Ms Goldstein.” His eyes bore into her, considering her the way a hunter may look upon his prey. The nerve of this man! He was openly threatening her as if she were in the wrong! Steeling herself Y/N replied, “I assure you Sir that something like that will never happen as long as I’m on this case.” She stared into brown eyes, a challenge in her gaze. “Very well. I will expect the usual verbal report the next time you find anything of note.” Noting the unspoken dismissal, Y/N gave a curt nod before excusing herself out of the room.

 She hurried towards the sanctuary of her cabin. The moment she entered it, she locked the door, put a muffling charm on the room and extracted the tiny pair floral earrings from her ears. Setting them carefully on her desk, she waved her wand in the air carefully but nothing happened. She gave a sigh of relief, atleast she was free from worrying about any external unwanted snooping. She then tapped the earrings carefully, a muttered incantation under her breath. The earrings sputtered for a moment before echoing in a voice frighteningly similar to the Director of Magical Security, “I would be sorry if you followed into the footsteps of Ms Goldstein.“ 

 Y/N let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Who knew learning to enchant everyday items that could record her magical lectures would one day help her in this manner? Graves may have thought himself too brilliant to hoodwink, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. Slipping on the earrings again, Y/N’s mind went over the conversation once again. Her intuition had been correct. Something about the Barebones was making Graves anxious, so much that he went to the length of threatening her to ensure that the case went smoothly. The picture was too hazy to discern any meaning from currently. But Y/N vowed that she wouldn’t rest till she got to the bottom of this.


 A/N: Hah, this was supposed to be a one shot. Though turning it into a series doesn’t seem that bad of an idea. This is a filler chapter, where I’m setting the scene for the oncoming plot. Hope you guys liked my first venture into the fbawtft universe. Please excuse any typos and let me know how you found it. Gif credits to the owner. ~mystical reading nerd

Originally posted by saltyhomosexual

leahelizabeth89  asked:

So, I was thinking about how I have a tiny Vetinari in my brain who very deliberately Does Not flinch when Trump is mentioned, and this lead me to wonder how many words that Discworld/Star Wolds fic you were working on? Even if you aren't working on it any longer, I remember you saying it had gotten a bit longer than intended.

Oooh yea, I think it’s in my google drive somewhere. If I remember correctly it was about 4000 words. Might be less once I edit it down, but yea, it was…I mean now you’ve got me thinking of how Vetinari would deal with a man like Drumpf and:

There was an awkward silence around the table as the name dropped, all eyes swiveling toward Vetinari who sat perfectly still at the head of the table.

It was Mr Slant who broke the silence first, the zombie clearing his throat with a dusty cough. 

“Forgive me for saying so my Lord, but there are,” his eyes darted to Lord Downey at the opposite end of the table, the master assassin pointedly not acknowledging his look, “other methods, for dealing with this particular…problem.”

“Indeed?” Vetinari asked, managing to convey the polite interest of one discussing the weather. 

“Easier…ways…” 

“No.”

“My Lord?”

“There are no easy ways. Only those which are done in the shadows,” when he looked up there was a particularly Vimesian glint to his eye, “and men like that need to be brought into the light. There will be no other methods, there will be no back alleys, there will be no cake. Am I quite clear?”

Several people gave the impression of flinching without actually moving. Others, the younger members of the guild leaders, merely looked confused. 

It might have been Slant who had spoken, but it was Downey who nodded. 

“Good.“ The tyrant continued, holding up his hand and accepting a ledger from his clerk, “It’s time to do this, by the books.”

“Book,” Slant guffawed, “You mean the law? There are no legal means we can take against him, he has us at every turn. You can’t just send Vimes in to arrest him because the man’s a lunatic.”

“No,” Vetinari agreed, nodding slowly as he scanned over the numbers in front of him, “And I dare say we couldn’t prove it even if we could. No, what I am in fact referring to, is much neater. Drumknott, do send in Mr Lipwig, I believe it is his time to shine.”

“Lipwig?” Downey started, “that jumped up…what can he do?”

“Why, Robert,” Vetinari said, startling the assassin with the use of his first name, “he’s going to start taking taxes.”

anonymous asked:

Some Elorcan smut please!!!! No angst no betrayal just fluff. (Sorry also curious but how old are you?) Thank you! (Lovvvvveee the Pale Skin and Onyx Eyes work BTW!!)

Clearly NSFW Elorcan smutfic, read at your own peril! smut under the cut~
CW: some misogynistic language

YO I DID THIS FOR U ANON, AND I’M ACTUALLY PRETTY HAPPY WITH IT?? sorry it took a little while! It’s my first smutfic, so go easy on me. I hope ur bodies are ok afterwards~ let me know what you think! ;3

send me this or your own pairing and a prompt


Word Count: 2836
[ read on fanfiction ] [ read on ao3 ]


Whetting an Appetite

Elide Lochan sighed through her nose. She was finally done with classes for the day and was now sitting on a nondescript, black couch in Lorcan’s dorm room at Adarlan University of Magic and Research (AU, for short). Lorcan had just gotten back from the gym so he was currently showering in the bathroom.

Elide rolled her neck around and huffed a sigh again. She was bored.

What to do while Lorcan showers… Not that it will take very long. Elide rolled her eyes, but mid-eye-roll she remembered that there was a magazine in her backpack, some silly Fae, female’s health magazine that Aelin had carelessly left lying around on Elide’s desk, and it had somehow found its way into her backpack. She mentally reminded herself to ask whether Aelin wanted the magazine back at dinner later.

She and Lorcan were scheduled to go out to dinner with Rowan and Aelin at 6PM, but right now, it was only 4:45PM. Propping her feet up on the couch, she idly began flipping through the magazine. Elide absentmindedly tugged on a strand of hair and loudly sighed again while glaring at the bathroom door. After flipping through a couple more pages, a few words caught her eye – an article mentioning the classic movie Titania, where a Fae male named Jack and a human woman named Rosalyn fell in love after meeting on a ship. Her arched brows raised – it had been a long time since she had watched that film. It was now considered a cliché movie, but it had been a huge hit at the time of its release.  

Elide sat up and continued reading through the rather sexually-explicit page. Seeing the movie title reminded her of last summer, when Aelin had thrown a ridiculous end-of-the-school-year party on a cruise ship, essentially forcing people together for a day and a half in the middle of an ocean. It was such an Aelin thing to do, but Elide admitted that Aelin had accomplished her goal for the party, which had been matchmaking for other people. Like Elide. And even Manon, with Dorian nonetheless!

Elide was pretty sure she could point to any girl in their class and there was a 50-50 chance Dorian Havilliard had slept with her. And Manon pretty much hated men. Elide shook her head as she remembered.

The party had successfully forced Elide and Lorcan to finally confront each other after they barely spoke to each other during her first year at Adarlan U. But they had both often stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking, and they would make such intense eye contact often enough that their astute friends obviously noticed.

Aelin tried to talk to Elide about it, and Rowan cornered Lorcan, but both Elide and Lorcan denied that there was anything going on. And when Aelin and Rowan had both stared and pointed out that, that’s the point, NOTHING is going on, they had each hurriedly made an excuse and fled. Elide prayed Aelin would leave the subject alone after that.

However, Aelin decided to take things into her own hands with her summer party, and Elide couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lorcan and her on the cruise ship.

Aelin had all but shoved her towards the shadowy deck where Lorcan was standing alone, leaning against the rails and looking out into the endless ocean. Elide nearly tripped over the blood-red, floor-length, strapless dress Aelin had loaned her. The week before the cruise, Aelin had thrusted the heap of fabric into Elide’s arms, and ignored her when Elide tried to protest.

Elide had profusely thanked her friend, admitting that she did love the wispy chiffon layers of the dress and the delicate beading over the chest. She had felt more… confident wearing the dress, which gave her the courage that summer night to finally have a real conversation with Lorcan that didn’t involve discussing the weather or classes. And in that dress, she and Lorcan had shared their first kiss, underneath the stars with nothing but waves for miles around.

At that moment, the bathroom door swung open, steam dissipating into the room as Lorcan Salvaterre stepped through the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. His muscled chest glistened with water as he shook water droplets from his dark, shoulder-length hair. Looking at the planes of his chiseled face still took Elide’s breath away.

Elide sat up and crossed her legs. She placed the magazine on the glass coffee table in front of her and tipped her chin up at him.

“I’m bored,” she whined, tossing her hair dramatically. Lorcan’s onyx eyes automatically snapped to the clock hanging on the wall and then back to her fine-boned face.

“I’ve been in the bathroom for ten minutes,” he said calmly, while towel-drying his hair. “And we’re getting dinner in an hour, Elide.”

Elide watched him for a moment, before tugging off her pink, long-sleeve shirt and flinging it onto the floor. Her dark, waist-length hair fell over her pale breasts, which were cupped by a lacy, pink bra. One of her hands drifted in between her legs, and she drummed her fingers against her clothes.

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“A Nobody” - Isaac Lahey

Originally posted by thewolfbitme

(not my gif)

REQUEST: (Y/N) is evil (kinda like void Stiles) and she has a soft spot for Isaac.
(I feel like this isn’t even close to what the anon requested but this is how it turned out so I hope you guys will like it regardless.)


On the outside, (Y/N) looked like a normal teenage girl. But on the inside, nothing but darkness and emptyness could be found.

When (Y/N) had arrived in Beacon Hills, Scott McCall had instantly known something was off about the new girl. He had wished his instincts were wrong but soon after the arrival of the pretty-looking girl, chaos started to spread in Beacon Hills like a disease. People were brutally murdered or went mysteriously missing and the pack knew (Y/N) had something to do with it all.

“She doesn’t look like a murderer, though.” Isaac declared while the group of friends was on their lunch break.
“Wha- Is he serious?” Stiles asked his best friend, Scott. “This girl looks like the devil!” He added.
“I’m just saying, maybe she is innocent.” Isaac shrugged.
“No, she’s not. Did you take a good look at her? It’s like staring into the depth of nothingness. She is evil, and you guys know I can detect evil better than anyone.” Stiles said and Isaac rolled his eyes at the skinny and sarcastic teenage boy.
“Stiles is right. Something is off about her.” Scott stated.
“I can feel it too.” Lydia nodded.
“What can you feel, Lydia?” Allison asked, frowning.
“Death.” Lydia said after a short while.
Everytime the banshee was near (Y/N), she could feel the darkness eat away her soul and all the happiness being sucked out of her life. It was a very unpleasant feeling, even for someone like Lydia – to whom death had become a part of her daily life.
“If she is the one killing people, we have to stop her.” Scott declared and his eyes glowed a bright red for a second before going back to their original color.

The next morning, (Y/N) didn’t show up to school and the pack felt panic spreading quickly into their veins. School was the easiest way to keep an eye on (Y/N) without looking too suspicious, but now they had to find (Y/N) before someone else got hurt.
The pack didn’t find (Y/N) until nightfall. Scott had got a call from his mom, Melissa McCall, saying he needed to come to the hospital right away, and judging from the panic in her voice, Scott knew something terrible had happened and he figured they would find (Y/N) at the center of it all.
The moment Scott, Allison, Lydia, Stiles and Isaac walked through the doors of Beacon Hills Memorial, they saw many people lying in a pool of their own blood. Scott had found his mom, frightened but unharmed – to his relief, and had ordered her to go home and lock herself inside the supernatural-protected house.
The pack had decided to split up – although Stiles insisted on staying close to his werewolf best friend, so they could cover more ground and find (Y/N) more quickly.

Isaac was walking quietly in the corridor on the third floor when his werewolf hearing picked up a heartbeat nearby. He walked into a room – which turned out to be the morgue, and found (Y/N) standing there, her back to him.
“(Y/N)?”  Isaac called carefully.
The teenage girl turned around slowly. She looked emotionless, but somehow pretty calm. Her skin and clothes were stained with blood as if she had taken a bath in her victims’ blood.
“I wouldn’t stay here if I were you.” (Y/N) said.
“Why? So you can kill more people?” Isaac said. There was no anger in his voice. Even if now he knew for sure that (Y/N) was the one behind the brutal murders in Beacon Hills, an odd feeling told him not to hurt or kill her, as if he still believed she could be innocent.
“Do you want me to start with you, pretty wolf?” (Y/N) asked blankly.
Isaac couldn’t help but notice that the girl’s voice sounded innocent, almost gentle but emptied of all emotions, and he failed to understand how could someone like (Y/N) could create so much chaos.
“What are you?“ Isaac spoke his thoughts aloud.
"An abomination.” (Y/N) replied.
“This isn’t you.” Isaac stated, although he didn’t know the girl at all and couldn’t possibly know if she had once been different. “Something is posessing you.” He added, though unsure of his theory.
“You’re right, pretty wolf. I was posessed. But I’m not anymore, not when there is nothing left to posess.” (Y/N) said as if she was discussing the weather.
“What happened to you?”
“My soul got eaten up.” (Y/N) replied, her eyes piercing through Isaac’s.
“So you’re killing people just for the hell of it?” Isaac asked. This time, a hint of anger was present in his voice.
“Do you think I need a purpose to kill? Is that what you want me to tell your little friends when they will find you drowned in your own blood? That I took your life for a reason?” (Y/N) asked.
“You’re not going to kill me.” Isaac declared.

Isaac could see (Y/N) smirking a little even though the darkness of the night was hiding half of her angelic-looking face.
“What’s going to stop me? Your claws?” (Y/N) said, calmly.
“You’re not going to kill me.” Isaac repeated, although it was pretty obvious he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince (Y/N).
“It’s okay. Everyone begs for mercy at the end.” (Y/N) said as she walked closer to her next prey, Isaac.
“I can help you.”  Isaac said suddenly.
“Don’t you recognize a lost cause when you see one, pretty wolf?”
“I can help you go back to who you used to be.”
“I used to be a nobody. Who would want to go back to that?” (Y/N) said and for the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Isaac swore he heard sadness in the girl’s voice.
“You do.” Isaac declared and (Y/N) didn’t take another step. She was standing inches away from the werewolf.

A part of her couldn’t wait to slit his throat and watch as his blood stained the floor and until the very last drop left his body. But then, there was this part of her – tiny and well-hidden, which was forbidden her to hurt another soul, especially the one standing in front of her. But killing and destroying had been in her nature for so long, she couldn’t possibly avoid her fate. Or could she?
“I am a monster. I don’t deserve your help and your pity.” (Y/N) stated with anger.
“You’re not a monst-” Isaac couldn’t finish his sentence.
(Y/N) had placed a hand around his throat and was ready to rip it out with her own fingernails. Isaac’s jaw tightened but the boy stayed still.
“Fight back, pretty wolf.” (Y/N) said with her hand around his throat. “Fight back!” She shouted.
(Y/N)’s voice was no longer calm and gentle. There were finally emotions in her words. There was anger. There was sadness. There was humanity.

Isaac put his hand on the one that (Y/N) had placed around his throat. At the touch, (Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock and confusion. Isaac drew (Y/N)’s hand away from his throat and the teenage girl let him do so.
“You’re not a monster.” Isaac finally said.
“You’re wrong. And you’re going to die because of it.” (Y/N) said but she stayed still. She didn’t try to kill Isaac. She couldn’t and she didn’t know why.

There was a heavy silence in the room while Isaac and (Y/N) stared into each other’s eyes. (Y/N) was still fighting off the urge to kill the werewolf, but why she was fighting it off, she didn’t know.
Then, Isaac gently placed a hand on (Y/N)’s cheek and she backed away as if his touch had bruned her skin. At this very moment, she felt something. Something other than anger or pain. Something she hadn’t felt in forever which is why it felt so odd and unfamiliar. And (Y/N) knew that whatever it was, she had to hold on to it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t because even if it was as though she could finally see a light into the darkness, the light was so bright it was blinding her. She couldn’t because it felt like someone was riping her soul out all over again. She couldn’t because after feeling nothing for so long, the pain was agonizing.
“Don’t fight back.” Isaac said quietly as he watched the girl struggling not to let any light in into her darkened mind. He could see her pushing all emotions away and it seemed to be strongly hurting her.

Suddenly, an arrow pierced (Y/N)’s body and she gasped. Isaac’s eyes widened and he turned around to see Allison throwing another arrow at (Y/N).
“Allison, stop!” Isaac shouted.
“Get out of the way, Isaac!” Allison shouted back, convinced that she was rescuing her friend and doing him a favor by killing the enemy.
“No! Stop!” Isaac shouted but Allison threw another arrow and (Y/N) collapsed onto the floor.
With three arrows piercing through her body, (Y/N) gasped for air as she laid almost motionless on the floor of the morgue, her blood staining her clothes and skin as it mixed with the dry blood of her latest victims.
Isaac hurried at her side while Allison watched him, confused. Isaac held (Y/N) in his arms as the girl struggled to breathe.
“What have you done?” Isaac shouted.
“I- I thought-” Allison stuttered, extremely confused.
“Get out! Go find help!” Isaac shouted urgently.
Allison stayed still, wondering if she had just badly injured an innocent.
“Now, Allison!” Isaac shouted and the huntress ran out of the room to go and get help.
“You’re gonna be okay, (Y/N).” Isaac said quietly as blood stained (Y/N)’s lips.

But Isaac knew what just came out of his mouth was a lie and (Y/N) knew it too. She couldn’t breathe. She was dying and she was okay with it. She wanted the pain to stop. It wasn’t her physical injuries that was hurting her. But while her body was pain-free, everything inside was agonizing. The pain which she felt on the inside was what was killing her. Her mind was on fire, her soul – which she believed to be long gone, was being torn apart by the strong and unbearable feeling of love and of life.
“I’m sorry.” Isaac whispered, fighting off the urge to scream and cry for someone he hardly even knew.
“It’s okay.” (Y/N) whispered as her body went still. “I was made to kill, not to love.”

And then her eyes were closed and a single tear fell down her face. Crying was so foreign to her, but that’s how she knew. She had been forbidden to feel, and the moment Isaac set her free from the never-ending darkness and chaos, death came crawling back to take her soul. And this time, she was never getting it back ever again. Isaac was the first person to see (Y/N) for who she used to be and not who she had become. He was the first person to see her as a human being and not as a monster. And that’s what gave (Y/N) a piece of her humanity back: to be reminded of who she used to be and not blamed for who she was now. Because everybody should be reminded of what they’ve lost in order to get it back. And as the pain exploded in her body into a thousand flames, she knew she was herself again. She was a nobody again, a nobody at all.

Making Sure

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Words: 1,279

A/N: Part five! I really hope you guys like it! I know the plot isn’t too “action-y” but I think the moments I’m writing about are finally ending up on the sweeter side, rather than their arguments. Also, this part is relatively longer than the other ones, so I hope that makes up for it being posted a day late! Let me know if you want a part six! 

Song: Moonlight; Ariana Grande

Part OnePart TwoPart Three - Part Four 

It was only around eight o’clock, but your eyes were falling shut. Dean watched you from the rear-view mirror as you drifted off.

“I knew the whole time, you know.” Sam said quietly, not to wake you.

“Huh?” Dean responded as he turned the wheel.

Sam smiled to himself, that small know-it-all smile, “That you liked her.”

Dean scrunched his nose; he didn’t want to push the topic but curiosity got the best of him.

“How?” He asked.

“Seriously?” Sam looked at his brother, then back at you once more to make sure you were asleep. “Let’s start with that besides you guys fighting nearly every waking moment, you always make her breakfast.”

“So?”

“You get annoyed when I ask you to pass the bottle of juice.” Sam scoffed and Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh-” Sam began to add, “After every hunt, don’t think I don’t notice you checking her skin.”

“What?” Dean pressed on the gas pedal as the light turned green. Sam jerked forward at the sudden movement.

“You always check her for cuts!” He said louder than he intended, and Dean glanced at your sleeping figure quickly, “Don’t think I don’t notice you staring at her once we get back to the bunker. I mean, at first I thought you were just checking her out. But, then I realized you were looking at her arms more than her ass.” Sam said, remembering every time Dean eyed you from the other side of the room, just to be completely sure that you weren’t hurt.

“I don’t-”

“You do.” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“Whatever.” Dean huffed and finally parked back at the motel.

Sam shook his head at his brothers blatant ignorance to his own feelings. Part of him knew it was just Dean putting up a front, but another worried that he would never break down his walls.

With you being Sam’s best friend, he always worried. But he knew his brother, and his brother cared so deeply for you in a way he hadn’t seen him do in years.

Not knowing that you heard Dean confess to you the night before, he wished to himself that you knew exactly how his brother felt. He shook the thoughts out from his head as he exited the car and walked towards the motel door.

“Oh my god!” Sam heard your raspy voice shout from behind him.

“Dude!” He turned around and exclaimed at Dean, who opened the door without first tapping on the window to wake you up. With your palm pressed to the asphalt, and your head in Dean’s hands, you struggled to get back up and onto your feet.

“Nice catch.” You muttered. Little rocks from the gravel rolled off your skin as you wiped your hand against your pantsuit.

“Yeah, uh, I think this is yours.” He held up a bobby pin that must’ve fell out when he untangled his fingers from your hair.

You plucked it from his fingertips and dropped it into your pocket.

Once back in the room you asked: “Are we calling it an early night?”

In silent agreement, everyone reached for their duffels and began to sort through the mess of clothing for something to sleep in. You peeled off your suit jacket, just a thin black camisole remaining. You glanced towards the window and noticed how beautifully the moonlight poured itself through the glass.

Then, you shoved past your jeans and flannel before landing on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for what seemed like the last month. Come to think of it, all the clothing in the duffle was either worn out or completely covered in blood. “Guys?” You asked the dim room. “Is there a laundromat around here?”

Before answering, Sam furrowed his brows. “Uh… yeah. Around the corner actually.”

“Thanks.” You said quietly and slung your bag over your shoulder. Dean began to say something, but being not used to him giving you anything other than negative attention, you continued out of the door before processing that he even began to speak.

It was colder than you had anticipated; you wrapped your hands around yourself, feeling the wind wisp your hair around your shoulders as you walked.

Around which corner?, you wondered, somewhat surprised at yourself that you hadn’t asked for more detailed directions. Streetlights leaked their orange lights onto the pavement, where you watched your feet step one at a time. Eventually though, you reached the small building with the sign that read ‘Open 24/7’ and began to shove your clothes into the washing machine.

It shook your body as you leaned against it, slowly watching the seconds tick by on the clock.

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice pulled your attention towards the door.

“I should ask you,” You looked Dean up and down, “You’re in a laundromat with no clothes to wash.”

He shrugged, “Why the hell did you just leave like that?”

If that was a tone of anger you heard in his voice, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“Why do you care?” You asked, your mind wandering back to all the times he didn’t seem to give a shit about what you did and when you did it.

It was instinct to retaliate against anything he said.

He stood next to you, leaning with his ass pressed against the dryer. You pressed your chin to your shoulder, noticing the lack of space between your arm and his.

“What’s with the third degree?” He asked, a small smile playing on his face.

You sighed, “Don’t know.”

You turned to check how much time was left while Dean’s eyes trailed up and down your arm. The wound that you earned not forty-eight hours ago from the wendigo was painstakingly fresh. The stitches stuck out at odd angles, and he wondered why Sam hadn’t stitched you up. Questions raced through his mind:

Did you sew up your own skin after crying yourself dry that night?

How long was he sitting on that damn bench for?

What did your face look like, all wet and painted with pain as you pulled through stitch after stitch all by yourself?

“Dean!” You said forcefully, waving a hand in front of his face.

He snapped his head towards you, leaving whatever thoughts were encapsulating his mind.

“Yeah?”

“I said you could go back if you wanted.”

“Back?” He asked, not even thinking of leaving you.

“To the motel room.” You picked at a paint chip from the metal machine. “There’s still fourteen minutes left. Then the drying process,” You dragged out your sentence, “plus-”

“It’s fine.” He said matter-of-factly.

You tilted your head at him, trying to figure out what in hell’s name he was doing here with you. It was sobering, you slowly realized, having his presence there with nothing to argue about. 

Just him. Just, Dean.

His eyes met yours as you stood together in silence. You swore he was about to say something before his gaze dropped back down to the ground.

Seconds ticked by on the clock, and eventually you dropped your head onto his shoulder. He stiffened under the sudden movement, and you noticed. Nevertheless, you kept your head planted firmly against him. The back of his fingers grazed yours and somehow they ended up entangled.

“Could this work?” His voice was quiet, but strong.

It took you a few seconds to process what he said.

“Will you let it?” You asked, squeezing his hand unintentionally.

You felt his muscles relax underneath your head as he responded, “I’m in love with you.” He said it so simply, as if he was just discussing the weather.

You swallowed.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You said slowly.

“It will.”

The Do’s and Dont’s of Going to See a Potential Marriage Partner
— 

I think it’s something we can all learn from Insha’Allah. Please feel free to add your own in the comments below.

The Do’s:

  • DO give the girl’s family plenty of notice before arriving, (that’s so they can be prepared and don’t have to worry about appointment cancellations etc.)
  • DO greet the family members on arrival
  • DO dress as you normally would. (If you normally wear western dress, then stick to that, there is no point wearing a juba etc to impress the girl’s family)
  • DO ask the girl’s wali for permission if you want to ask her any questions. (Make sure you are specific about what you ask, dont beat about the bush)
  • DO be honest when answering any questions

The Dont’s:

  • DON’T go to see her alone
  • DON’T enter the house or take a seat without permission
  • DON’T keep talking unnecessarily unless you have something useful to say (be buisness like and to the point)
  • DON’T stay too quiet and make yourself look like an arrogant person.
  • DON’T go dressed like it is your wedding day.
  • DON’T keep your eyes fixed on the girl (It is important you take a look but that does not mean constantly staring at her to freak her out)
  • DON’T ask silly questions like what have you planned for today? (I am sure they would have cancelled any plans for that particular day)
  • DON’T waste time discussing things like the weather (Leave that job for the weatherman)
  • DON’T be demanding straightaway e.g. I expect my wife to cook and clean for me and wash and iron my clothes, polish my shoes etc (I know it probably sounds hillarious but it can happen)
  • DON’T try to impress the wali by boasting about you earnings (It’s not good to be materialistic)

Theories:

  1. Women’s Team: Riley, Kala, Nomi and Sun will have conversation about the men, among other things.
  2. Will and Riley (+Kala?) save Jonas.
  3. Capheus is forced to be president of Nairobi.
  4. Kala still doesn’t love Rajan and she has a secret relationship with Wolfgang.
  5. Lito tells the world that he loves Hernando (confirmed).
  6. Nomi feigns her death to save herself.
  7. Nomi and Amanita will have to separate for awhile.
  8. Will will have a very close loss.
  9. Sun will carry out her revenge.
  10. Riley will hold everyone together and support Will.
  11. All Sensates are linked by a pharmaceutical conspiracy - or drug-related issue.
  12. Wolfgang will kill another leader of one of Berlin’s Kingdoms.
  13. Kala will help the cluster with her chemical skills.
  14. Some Sensates come together physically (I need this!)

Wishes:

  1. Kala goes to Berlin for Wolfgang or Wolfgang goes to Mumbai for Kala.
  2. Wolfgang will say “Kala”.
  3. Lito will ask Hernando to marry him.
  4. Amanita will ask Nomi to marry her.
  5. A lot of sex (Kalagang first please!).
  6. Funniest moments with Lito and Kala.
  7. Sun will gain control of the company.
  8. Capheus will win the election for president and he will do beautiful things.
  9. Sun will go to Nairobi.
  10. Another orgy (please!)
  11. Kala and Wolfgang will have a beautiful scene of love - and after, a really hot scene-.
  12. Rajan is not a good man like we think - worse than Wolfgang -.
  13. We learn the past of Wolfgang’s mom.
  14. We learn the past of Nomi - and when she met Amanita.
  15. Whispers dies. Whispers dies. Whispers dies. Whispers dies.
  16. Riley gets pregnant.
  17. Will is cop again.
  18. Girls Team vs Boys Team
  19. All sensates have small talk with each other (without discussing problems - like about weather, for example).

I wait your theories and wishes! C’mon!

Thanks to @ww-n-double-d for helping with my english!

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 30

Baz

I could have magicked the bleach out of my hair that same morning.  I could have left the room looking like nothing had happened instead of enduring constant stares all day.  Now that it’s been twenty-four hours, it would be child’s play to spell the bleach away.

           Except I don’t.

           Because Snow can’t stop staring at it.

           And some things are worth the embarrassment.

           Besides, I’m about to pay him back in full.

           I strike early, immediately after breakfast. Snow and his ducklings stand in the hall outside our first class.  Bunce sees me first as I stalk towards them.  “Morning, Malfoy,” she calls to me, “isn’t the Slytherin common room the other way?”

           They’re all looking at me, Snow, Bunce and Wellbelove. Good.  Let them watch.

           I whip my wand from my pocket as I reach them and cast before anyone can react.

           “Not a word.”

           Snow opens his mouth to say something… and his voice freezes before it can get out.

           He clutches his throat and his eyes widen, and then the storm breaks.

           “WHAT THE HELL PITCH!”  Bunce actually manages to slam me against a wall with one mighty shove, and her wand is already at my neck.

           “Get off me, Bunce.”

           “Basilton Grimm-Pitch, you give him back his voice right now or I swear.”

           “Relax, Bunce,” I hiss down at her, barely able to see her when she’s this close.  “It’s only temporary.  He’ll be back to babbling by tomorrow morning.”  It’s an unfair thing to say, because Snow never babbles.  Sometimes he has difficulty even articulating his spells.

           “And what about in the meantime?” she snarls at me. “How’s he supposed to defend himself against whatever horrors you have in store for him if he can’t do magic?”

           “What if I told you I don’t have any horrors in store for him?”

           “Still,” Wellbelove pipes up, “stealing a mage’s voice? That’s cold, Basilton.”  She says it like she’s discussing the weather or the homework or what she’d like to eat tonight.

           “Not to mention totally illegal,” Bunce chimes in, and I don’t know if she’s correct on that or not, but I’m not about to fact-check her, especially not with her right in my face.

           “He’ll still be able to retaliate,” I say with a shrug.  “He certainly didn’t need magic to pour bleach in my shampoo.”

           “Why haven’t you fixed that yet, by the way?” Wellbelove asks.

           I look Snow directly in the eye.  “The perks,” I smirk, and to my delight his face goes red.  Merlin, this is fun.

“Your move,” I tell him before turning on my heel.

***

           I don’t know what kind of charm Bunce has placed on Snow, but through some miracle he manages to get through all of our classes without being called on.  It’s a little bit unfair that he has someone interfering, but I decide not to make a big deal of it. After all, Wellbelove was right. The voice is the most important weapon to a mage, and now that I’ve taken his, he’s no better than a Normal. At least for the day, anyway.  And though the added humiliation of not being able to speak when spoken to would have been amusing for me to watch, I figure I’ve ruined his day enough already.

           Besides, there’s a storm on its way.  If everything goes according to plan.

           Football practice goes longer than usual, until the sky is almost dark, and I can see Snow starting to flag by the time it’s over. It seems like he’s been trying to compensate for his lack of a voice by playing harder, and while he was admittedly almost unstoppable on the field, the extra work has clearly taken its toll. He’s still in the showers when I gather my things and head back to the room.

           It’s another fifteen minutes before he clomps to the top of the stairs.  He’s back in his regular clothes and his hair is extra curly from the shower, and before the door has fully fallen closed he flops onto his bed face-first and just lays there, breathing hard.  I shake my head at him from my bed before returning to my tablet.

           Eventually I see him kick off his shoes out of the corner of my eye.  He hauls himself up slowly like he’s carrying a sack of bricks on his back and throws the window open, leaning out of it and into the cold night air, sucking it in like he could get drunk on it.

           When he abandons the window to take his nightclothes into the bathroom, I decide I’ve gone long enough without being an arse.

           I get up and shut the window, then sit back down on my bed.

           Snow looks at it a long time when he comes back out, no doubt trying to remember whether he closed it or not.  He opens it.

           I wait until he’s sat on his bed again to walk over and shut it.  It hasn’t even been open a full ten seconds.

           Snow stares at me with a dismayed expression as I return to my bed.  He holds my gaze when he opens it again.  This time I spell it shut from my bed just to rub it in.

           He stands in exasperation and starts wildly gesturing from me to the window and back again, his mouth opening and closing silently like he’s forgotten there’s no voice coming out.

           “What is it, Snow?  Use your words.”

           I regret it the second it’s out.  His hands fall to his sides and his mouth closes slowly. He looks so heartbroken and I hate myself.  I hate myself.

           So much, in fact, that I get up and leave, making my way down to the catacombs to feed and yell at the walls.

           When I come back much later, Snow is sound asleep.

           I take a long look at him, how his eyelids settle into place and make him appear so real.  Like if I touched his skin right now it would feel different somehow, more physical.

           I open the window before climbing into bed.

The art of in-denial seduction

So, if you obsessively stalk read @kazliin‘s asks (you know you do, guys, don’t pretend) you’ll know that it turns out there’s been some misinterpretation of the events leading up to the First Kiss in chapter 8 of UMFB (soon to also be chapter 2 of OBS).  (There was also a lot of discussion about weather and climate and mayonnaise, but that’s not what brings me here to my laptop on a Saturday morning).

I had definitely completely misinterpreted it.  Well, I’m not sure misinterpreted is quite the right word, because there’s a lot going on in our poor unreliable narrator Yuuri’s head at this point, and I don’t think we were meant to just read it and know his deep-down intentions.  I mean, what would be the fun in that?  So maybe it’s more accurate to say I had missed something.  Turns out ‘the kiss only happened when Yuuri won because Yuuri was the original instigator for the whole situation’.  What? How did I not see this?  (Cut below)

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Himchan - Day In The Office

For the first time in a long time, I present to you a scenario! I hope you all enjoy this since it was a bit challenging to get back into writing this way. Request was for a smutty Teacher!Himchan with a student. That said, I made you a college student so it’s legal.

Please enjoy and thank you for the continued support after all this time.

-Admin Em

Rated M for smut and a few swear words


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