fly fringe

If the Crown Fits

“We would be like Romeo and Juliet if we dated.” Phil said absentmindedly. 
Dan froze in shock. 
“How so?” He asked with a forced casual air. 
Phil shrugged, and turned the page, “Well forbidden love. Prince and servant aren’t exactly ideal.” He continued to read. 
Dan was conscious of his mouth hanging open.


The Royalty AU nobody asked for in which Prince Daniel falls head over heels for his best friend and servant boy, Phil.

Author’s Notes: 
Ok so I started this fic about 5 months ago and WOOP it’s been a ride!
From my beta Rachel (@diamond0604) constantly telling me OL OL OL OL OL etc. etc. (that means one line) to endless run throughs I feel as though this fic is my baby.
Actually never mind this fic is MY BABY and I feel as though I’m sending him away and it’s breaking my heart but whatever!So this is for the Phandom Big Bang therefore I have an amazing artist! (@alienenthusiast)
And I’ve already mentioned Rachel who is sitting beside me to stop me from crying because that is likely oh god.
Therefore without further ado I present my baby… If the Crown Fits!

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The Next Step

Four score and two months ago I was asked who said “I love you” first. As always, my timing is horrendous.


“Up here!”

Astrid took a slow step into the Oderson’s barn. It remained one of the few un-renovated structures following the Integration; a mere single-story barn with an old, gable roof and wood that had soaked in every rain, every storm, and darkened over the years until rot had eaten away at its base. Cobwebs coated the walls and crawled over half-repaired barrows that hadn’t been touched in months. The stalls were filled with more supplies than hay; it was better used for storage than housing animals.

An onslaught of generations’ old musk wrinkled Astrid’s nose.

“Hiccup?” she spoke again into the quiet. The air tasted thick with the promise of coming rain. Perhaps tomorrow.

Something creaked overhead. Particles rained from the rafters, glinting in the streaming, afternoon light like fusty snowflakes. Astrid shielded her eyes with a flat palm and squinted at the thickest beam running the length of the ceiling a good seven feet beyond her reach.

There he crouched, pulling at old plow straps that had been strung over the beams so long they had to be peeled off after countless hot summers.

“Hiccup, how did you–” No. She didn’t want to know. “What are you doing? Your dad sent me to find you. He’s been looking for you everywhere.”

“Ah…” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the frustration. “Yeah, okay. Just lemme—” Two rusted chains fell. A bundle of leather strips followed. An old saddle. “That should do it.” Hiccup stood and Astrid couldn’t help wincing, even as he walked the boards with apparent ease, dusting with every other step.

“Careful,” she begged.

Hiccup scoffed. “I’m fiiiah—oh, shh—!”

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The ocean is always intimidating. But when the sun sets and darkness
rolls across the waves, you just can’t help but be awed and abashed and a little frightened of it.

Millions and millions of cubic miles of water. Twenty miles deep in
places. Stretching all around the planet, touching every continent, most nations. Home to tens of millions of species, everything from the
submicroscopic to the immense.

You feel small beside a whale. Insignificant. Then you realize that a
whale is insignificant in the ocean.

And then you’re flying over the bare fringe of that ocean, flying over a
mystery that puny Homo sapiens may never fully understand.
And you feel your own smallness, your own utter weakness, and it’s like a lead weight on your chest.

It’s not that the ocean is an enemy. It simply doesn’t care. It feeds
you, it makes the oxygen you breathe, it gave birth to your species,
and, if you get careless, it kills you. All without the slightest
personal interest.

There’s nothing you can say to the ocean. No mercy to be begged. No
deals to be made. If we were weak or careless or stupid, it would smother us, crush us, bury us forever in miles of black, black water.

—  Animorphs #27 The Exposed
In an elevator with Sunggyu

Scenario: You end up stuck in an elevator with Sunggyu for a while. I guess you need to find some way to entertain yourselves…
Rating: sweet and steamy
Word Count: 3265

You stormed into the apartment building ahead of your boyfriend Sunggyu, letting the door swing closed into his face. He angrily followed you in, catching up with you just as you pressed the button for the elevator. You often bickered with him over small things, but tonight had been ridiculous and you were pissed. He had always hated being dragged to your work get togethers, but it had been an important night for you – you’d just been promoted and the head of department had hosted dinner and drinks at an exclusive restaurant you knew Sunggyu had always wanted to go to. It had seemed the perfect opportunity for you both to have a good night out. However, your boyfriend’s idiotic jealousy had almost ruined the night. It wasn’t your fault that your colleague Sungyeol was so charming and good-looking. He was a little younger than you and always called you noona in this little sing-song voice; you’d pretty much taken him under your wing as a younger brother since he started working with you. The two of you had developed a great working relationship and you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his company. You often ate lunch together at a sandwich bar across the street from your office.

Tonight he’d shown up solo, having recently broken things off with his latest fling. And yes, you’d accepted a drink or two from him, and okay maybe you’d laughed at his jokes a lot and touched him lightly on the forearm. You might possibly have winked at him across the table while your manager was giving a speech at the end of dinner. But Sunggyu was acting as if you’d thrown him onto the dining table and made out with him in front of everyone. Which was, quite frankly, ridiculous. You’d been with your boyfriend for almost two years now and it was obvious to anyone that you were helplessly in love with him. You even found yourself starting to like his little flaws; smiling at the way he would get irritable with the coffee machine in the mornings, or how he always forgot to hang up his shirts after they’d been ironed.

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be your teenage dream tonight

reposted from my old blog (peacockgege) // requested by kpopgame-strong:

Could you do a scenario where youre Kris ‘ little sister but Chanyeol likes you and wants to date you??

[ Chanyeol is a freak. Chanyeol likes to eat his fries with mustard and he claims his favorite food is school cafeteria mac and cheese. Chanyeol likes to sneak up on people and bite them. Chanyeol Park once brought last year’s yearbook with him to a tutoring session and counted with you all the pictures that he photobombed. Chanyeol Park in glasses and a cardigan and his guitar makes you want to kiss him. ]

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The Hairdresser

Title: The Hairdresser

Words: 3.7k (sorry)

Genre: fluff

Summary: Imagine Phil being really nervous about going to the hairdressers’, then imagine Dan as a really flirty hairdresser, and then mix them together in a tense session of fringe-fun. 

Excerpt: “You have really soft hands.”  His eyes burst open in an instant after the words had left his tongue. Phil’s verbal filter had always been near-to-non-existent, which in his school time had always resulted in detentions. Once more, he became aware of his pink coloured cheeks. “Thanks,” Dan giggled behind him. Phil hoped it was a good giggled. “I use them a lot so that’s a right wonder,” Dan spoke, and it was Phil’s time to giggle. “Not in that way!” Dan laughed. 

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1920s Valdaya: Chapter 1- The Mystery Man

*** Hope you like it! It’s pretty old but sorry for any mistakes!

Bella glanced at her friend enthusiastically. “Zendaya, don’t worry, it’ll be fun!” Bella began to paint on a dark red lipstick to match her red dress, in front of her mirror, looking back at Zendaya occasionally. “Zendaya, come on, what are you so worried about?” She sighed giving Zendaya an annoyed glare. “Are you worried you’ll become a flapper like me?” Bella chuckled and Zendaya rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s just—going out like this—it’s not like me,” Zendaya said shyly, putting a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

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i like it (you're my style)

imagine a pocket-sized you mindlessly combing through hoseok’s fringe from your seat atop his head. you’re at the tail end of a 5-hour car ride back from their latest fansign location. two hours ago you’d woken from your nap still exhausted and grumpy as all hell. hoseok, somehow still bright and energetic, had plopped you on top of his head and told you to soak up his happy vibes. and it worked: you took to running your fingers up through his hair, and for two hours hobi would go on to sing silly songs and crack stupid jokes and all the guys around him (even min yoongi) would smile radiantly in his direction (and by extension, toward you as well).

the car is turning into the apartment garage when jimin stops to stare at the movement of your hands. he’s suddenly giggling and instructing you not to move. pulling out his phone, he quickly snaps a picture, and when he turns the screen around, you and hoseok both stare in quiet wonder. his hands fly to his fringe, now standing upward rather stylishly to reveal his forehead. getting out of the car, he admires himself in the mirror before catching your eye in the reflection and winking. you blush, and jimin remarks that hoseok’s returned to his “no more dream” era styling. hoseok laughs and tells you to hold on tight as he begins singing and dancing to his part to “i like it” right in the middle of the garage.

anonymous asked:

This is just me but I think it would be adorable if young Garrus and young Grace met. They're both kids and Garrus would be curious about the human with red hair and Grace curious about seeing a Turian her age. How would it be if they met at that age?

“Hi,” said a voice–a strange, flat voice, one without subharmonics–just to his left. His mandibles twitched with irritation. “Can you tell me how come grownup turians have that makeup on, but little turians don’t?”

Garrus recoiled a little from the question, and even more from the alien asking it. Instead of proper fringe or even plates, its head was covered in very long, fine red fur or tentacles or something. Its grey-green eyes weren’t big as a salarian’s, but they were still alarmingly wide, and more fur–black, this time–sprouted from around them. Red fuzzy bits lifted and the big eyes got even bigger. The fleshy mouth twisted around. Garrus shuddered. 

“Don’t you have a translator?” it asked. “Mine has turian in it. I tested it. I heard some big turians talking already, but you’re the first little one I’ve seen.”

“I’m not that little,” Garrus retorted. Maybe its translator did have turian, but either it couldn’t pick up the overt go away and leave me alone in his subharmonics, or the human chose to ignore it. “I’m seven. Almost eight. And I’m taller than you.”

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To my anon that said they were feeling disheartened about Caryl…

What show are you watching?

Because my confidence has only been growing every second they’re onscreen. We are closer than we have ever been, and I am nowhere in the general vicinity of discouraged.