how do this many people fit into this many square feet

YOI Fan Rec Friday

Thank you for all your recs this week, I’m so excited to read (and reread) them all! 

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Unknown Unknown
by opalish, Teen, 7.4k
Yuuri never meant to become a supervillain. These things just happen to him. 

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Rec’d by anonymous:
by simplydrasticvoldy, Mature, 2.4k (WIP)
Versace-clad, Gucci shades atop his head, his silver-hair fringe always on fleek, Victor Nikiforov has never been a slob in his life.Naturally, one doesn’t expect him to be drunk off his ass, half-covered in chipotle sauce the moment he first locks his eyes with the new, endearingly oblivious neighbour Katsuki Yuuri.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
by Linisy, Mature, 26k (WIP)
For the past two years, Yuuri has been endlessly tormented by malevolent spirits. Just as he finds himself at the end of his rope, he meets Victor, an enigmatic man who possesses the ability to relieve him.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
My Boy Builds Coffins
by ken_ichijouji (dommific), Explicit, 9.5k (WIP)
Yuuri’s always dealt with a lot of (pun not intentional) grief about the family business, so much so he’s given up on making many friends or finding romance.But during one morning Starbucks rush, he meets a light-haired, blue-eyed man in dark colors and manicured nails who just might prove him wrong that no one will be able to get past his job.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
And Miles to Go Before I Sleep
by Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities, Mature, 10k (WIP) 
Katsuki Yuuri has been cursed to spread misery and grief to those who dare to come close to him. Viktor Nikiforov has been sentenced to wander the earth, unable to die, granting wishes to mortals in the hopes that one of them might give his life meaning in exchange.They meet in a tempest of April snow. (Mod note: can I just say that the art in this fit is incredible, wow!)

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Rec’d by anonymous:
cadillacs in our dreams
by neuroticmango, Gen, 5.9k (WIP)
The role of Japan’s Imperial Family is purely ceremonial nowadays, but that doesn’t stop the Imperial Household Agency from making archaic decisions affecting Katsuki Yuuri’s dime a dozen life.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
To the Moon
by JMonCheri, Teen, 21k ***Major Character Death
Viktor Nikiforov’s last, literal dying wish is to get a gold medal. Yuri and Otabek figured it would be an easy goal to accomplish, until they figure out that Nikiforov was an Olympic figure skating champion with already a truck ton of other golden medals.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Pigeon Alley
by DiAnna44, Teen, 31k
What’s meant to be will always find a way. Victor and Yuuri? They’re meant to be.

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Rec’d by @littleladykokomos:
The Blue Rose
by shadhahvar, Teen, 72k (WIP) ***Graphic depictions of violence
It all started with a rose. Victor’s playful request from the Feltsman Troupe leader, Yakov, was a familiar refrain every time he was off negotiating for contracts in the Southern Cities. He’d never once returned with a blue rose.Until Yakov returned home half frozen one winter night on the back of a strange black pony, clutching a blue rose in hand. The rose’s owner had made one infuriated demand of the troupe leader: a life for a life. Now Victor will accept the geas on the rose and face down the Beast in his castle, even if it cuts him off from most his old life. Yet both Beauty and Beast may find there’s more to magic, enchantment, and love than either of them knew.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
of poodles and human babies by thishasbeencary, Teen, 5.5k (WIP)
Logically, Viktor knows that an animal for a gift is a Bad Idea. Okay? He knows. He’s heard the talks about how people might not commit to something they didn’t pick out, they won’t be planned in advance to have the time and commitment to it, they wouldn’t be able to cover the costs… The list went on and on, and Viktor knew that that list existed, so he wasn’t going to do it. He wouldn’t get Yuuri a puppy for his birthday.

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Rec’d by anonymous, @omgkatsudonplease, and @vityanikiforova:
Raison d'Être by cutesudon (elfoftheforest), Explicit, 12k
President Nikiforov of Russia has a few weaknesses: premium rye vodka, an attention span of 30 minutes, and a torrid love affair with the Japanese Prime Minister.

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Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
Soon We’ll Be Found by lilithsins, Explicit, 130k (WIP)
When Yuuri’s life is unintentionally turned upside down, he and Viktor are thrown onto a path in their relationship that neither of them could have foreseen. The future is a vast, uncertain cavern before them, and if they’re going to get through it, they’re going to have to lean on each other, to trust each other more than they ever have before… …and it isn’t always going to be easy.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Dissonance by Mats, Explicit, 71k
Yuuri takes it for granted that Viktor will always meet him where he is. So when his coach and lifelong idol suddenly plants a very public kiss on him at the Cup of China, Yuuri takes it as a signal that his and Viktor’s relationship is about to undergo a major (and welcomed) change. But he may be wrong, and that might change everything, too. Viktor has a strategy. Had a strategy. But he got too ahead of himself and deviated from the plan… and it blew up in his face spectacularly, just like he knew it would. Now he’s back to square one and although he’s committed to starting over and doing it right this time, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s always only one misstep away from watching it all fall apart again.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
counterclockwise by viktyuuri (Empress_Arisu), Teen, 6.9k (WIP)
Life after retirement, Yuuri thinks, is quite a nice change of pace. Although, not so much when he finds himself thrust back into the past. In which married husbands Viktor and Yuuri somehow end up 5 years in the past without knowing how or why.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Katsudon for Gold by cROAissant (RoamingShadow), Gen, 4.5k
Somewhere along the road, “I might never like you” morphed into “I would die for this child”, and Yuri Plisetsky would be six feet under before Victor fucking Nikiforov would lay his thirsty hands on his precious student.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Gololyeditsa by QueenSabriel, Mature, 22k (Read the tags!)
While on a road trip to Moscow the trio finds themselves in an abandoned Soviet mining town, but something they brought with them will not let them leave.

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Rec’d by @kawaiiusagi2:
Gubraithian Fire by IdunAurora, Teen, 39k (WIP)
Seven years have passed since the end of the Second Wizarding War, and with the world turning a little brighter in the aftermath, the wizarding world has grown a little closer. Mahoutokoro might be the logical school of choice if you live in Japan, and Uagadou if you live anywhere in Africa, but if Hogwarts just so happens to have a more intriguing curriculum, why not go there instead, now that they actually accept students from outside the UK and Ireland? With worry gnawing in the back of his mind and his heart attempting to hammer itself through his rib-cage, Viktor plunges himself into studies, Quidditch, too many towers, friendship, and… wait, who’s that guy with black hair and glasses that suddenly set the world aflame by breathing in his general direction?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
He never ceases to surprise me by Farato, Gen, 660 words
Victor want’s to surprise Yuuri, so he settles with something he knews Yuuri loves.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Treasure by m00n_rabbit, Teen, 25k (WIP)
Yuuri is a disgraced knight looking for a way to redeem himself. Victor is a cursed prince living alone in an enchanted castle. The dragon complicates things.

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Rec’d by @ms-cocoa:
Yuri, the Vampire Slayer by Wynn, Teen, 20k (WIP)
One month after the death of his Watcher, Yakov Feltsman, sixteen-year old Yuri Plisetsky struggles to deal with the grief he feels at Yakov’s death as well as the burden he bears at being a vampire slayer, particularly keeping his secret from his best friend, Otabek Altin. Yuri’s brother, Viktor, struggles as well, having traded ballet and the Bolshoi for lawnmowers and suburbia following the death of their mother two years prior. Into both of their lives walks Yuuri Katsuki, a walking knot of contradictions, with his ugly tie and slicked back hair, bearing the news that he, now, is Yuri’s new Watcher.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Anteros by nanotrance, Explicit, 5.6k
“Like what you see?” he said, propping his chin on one hand, the other ghosting across his angled leg to draw attention to the fluid curve of his calf. Victor’s eyes, pupils blown wide, followed loyally. God, he could get used to this. “Well? You are going to answer me, right?” “Yes, yes, it’s amazing, you’re amazing—” Words tumbled from Victor’s mouth without reserve until Yuuri’s entire body flushed. “That’s enough,” he said, lifting a foot to gently close Victor’s jaw with the toe of a shoe. “I changed my mind. Show me how quiet you can be. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

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Rec’d by anonymous and anonymous:
let it burn fast by jjdez, Teen, 13k (WIP)
Yuuri doubles over in laughter, effectively cutting off the man next to him. Victor looks down at the sticky countertop with red cheeks. “No, wait,” he gasps. “I’m s–sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I swear.” Yuuri wipes at his eyes before continuing. “It’s just, I’ve been asked to go home with so many sleazy old men tonight and the one man I would actually go home with just asked me to get out of here for milkshakes. I was just surprised, is all,” he looks at Victor with an unbelievably fond smile.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Dreams and Reality by mitsui_tsuru, Not Rated, 5.7k (WIP)
The journey this time, he might have to do it alone. But as Yuuri begin to realize, he might never was…

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @domokunrainbowkinz :
First Born by RoseusJaeger, Teen, 4k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov is a lonely wizard who just wants a companion. Feeling he should find an excuse to retire from skating, Victor offers to heal Katsuki Yuuri’s ailing mother in exchange for his first born child.However… Yuuri turns out to be just as gay as he is and is now on a mission to find a woman to that will agree to help Yuuri keep his promise. (Mod note: I am grateful to live in an area that is not affected by the wildfire, thank you for your concern! <3)

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Twitter War by KasumiChou, Gen, 21k (WIP)
Victor wakes up one morning to find that he lovely, beautiful fiancé, Yuuri Katsuki, had gone on a twitter rant the night before. A twitter rant about how wonderful he was. God, he was head-over-heels for this man.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @mmeishi:
we’re after the same rainbows by missmichellebelle, Gen, 16k (WIP)
Summer camp is supposed to be sleeping bags under the stars, ghost stories around a campfire, overturned canoes in the lake, hikes that last all day, and friendships that last for a lifetime. Summer camp is not supposed to be finding your best friend and falling in love with him, but the summer after Yuuri turns 12, that’s what it becomes.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
under the starry sky i sing my love for you by vityuu (nanahoney), Gen, 1k
“And look - that’s the Little Dipper.”
“Where?” Yuuri squinted his eyes at the sky, shuffling about on the blanket they were laying on. Viktor was pointing somewhere up in the sky, at a patch of stars, that twinkled above them, but the more Yuuri squinted, less he could see what Victor was getting at.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
learn to love the skies I’m under by LinneaKou, Mature, 11k (WIP)
The day after the Sochi GPF banquet, Katsuki Yuuri disappears without a trace. The day after the Sochi GPF banquet, Viktor Nikiforov finds a stray poodle and takes it home with him.These two events are, oddly enough, connected.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @frozencalamari:
Where the Cliff Greets the Sea by RobotSquid, Mature, 31k (WIP)
For years, Victor and his crew of pirates have been the bane of the coast, unmatched and elusive. With little left to satisfy him, he visits the small seaside town of Hasetsu, drawn by its simple charms. Yuuri lives a quiet life sewing and tailoring dresses with the unattainable dream of designing gowns of his own. Victor sees him working through the window of the dress shop, and decides to stay.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Bad Apple by Multiple_Universes, Mature, 83k (WIP)
An AU were Yuuri is a very sarcastic bad boy and Victor is his very flustered and innocent coach.

Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

The amazing “YOI Fan Rec Friday” banner was created by @omgkatsudonplease! I love them a lot, check out their blog!

anonymous asked:

Could you write adrienette (or some variation of the love square) with number 75?

~I’m weak for Marichat, so that’s the love square corner we get.~Tay

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” 899 words

If you asked either Marinette or Chat Noir how it even started, neither would know what to tell you.

Neither would be able to tell when Chat’s occasional visits turned into frequent ones, or when the jokes about him being a stray cat turned into him acting like one when he was around Marinette, but soon, late night cookies and conversation turned into scratches behind Chat’s ears and him nuzzling beneath Marinette’s chin.

“Are you always this touchy—like tactile?” She’s asked one night. They were sitting on the floor of her bedroom, the light of her lamp turning the room orange. “I mean, even when you aren’t Chat Noir?” He thought for a long while before answering.

“No, but I don’t know if the difference has to do with me outside the mask, or with Chat, or if it’s some combination of the two. It’s not that I don’t like touch when I’m not Chat, it’s just… different, I guess? I mean, there’s not many people to get touch from.  Home is… I mean, I have my friends at school, but even that is pretty minimal. I think it’s why I like being around you so much. You fit my level of tactile.” He threw her a smile and she contemplated him for a moment before reaching out and scratching his ears.

“Silly kitty, just looking for scratches.”

“Especially if they come from you, Princess.” He leaned into her hand, and soon, they were both laying on the floor, Chat’s head on Marinette’s stomach and her fingers gently combing through his hair. They whispered about school and tv and the ladyblog until it was late at night and Chat’s miraculous began to beep. Chat groaned and Marinette giggled.

“Sounds like it’s time for a certain stray cat to make its way home.” Chat groaned, pressing his head into Marinette’s stomach. It startled a laugh out of her. “Chat, that tickles,” she hissed, pushing at his head with one hand. He slung a hand over her hip and refused to move. “Chat,”  she whined. She felt him smile into her belly.

“Yes, Princess?” he purred smugly. She suppressed a giggle.

“Move, you stupid cat, or I’ll have to get you with a water bottle.” He gasped, scandalized.

“You would insult me so? Punishing me like some hand-biting stray?” Marinette snorted around a laugh, and, despite his tone, she could feel Chat’s grin against her pajama shirt.

“Chat, you are some hand biting stray.” He suddenly sat up, and looked down at Marinette, who leaned up on her elbows.

“Princess, you wound me with your words.” He took one of her hands and pulled it to him. He kissed her knuckles gently. “But, if you are to see me as some hand biting stray,” he looked up from her hand to meet her eyes.

“You wouldn’t—"

“I should at least earn the title.” And with that, he bit the back of her hand. Marinette jerked her hand back with a snort of laughter, but pulled it too far, slamming her elbow into the hardwood floor. She groaned, clutching her elbow and rolling onto her side. Chat slapped a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter while Marinette swore at the floor, rubbing her elbow while trying to keep from laughing. Chat swallowed back his giggles, and reached out to Marinette, tugging her up into a seated position.

“Are you okay, Princess?” He asked. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stupid cat,” she muttered. He smiled.

“Want me to kiss it better?” She laughed.

“I don’t trust your mouth,” she said with a smirk.

“Too clever?”

“Too many teeth.” Chat laughed and pulled her to him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to make you hurt yourself.”

“I really will get you with a spray bottle.”

“I could bite you again, you know,” he threatened. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” He leaned down and nuzzled under her chin.

“Not too mad, I hope.”

“I don’t know; you bit the hand that feeds you cookies. They specifically say not to do that.” Chat fell backwards in a dramatic swoon.

“Had I known that my chocolate chip cookies would be in danger I never would have bit you!” he cried. Marinette laughed and leaned over him.

“Serves you right, using me for free pats and cookies. And this is the thanks I get.”

“Marinette, you do know I appreciate you, right?” He asked, suddenly earnest.

“Oh, Chat of course. I was just joking, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, I know. I just wanted to make sure. I really do love spending time with you.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They looked at each other in the lamplight for a long minute before—


Chat sighed.

“You should get going, Chaton,” Marinette said as she got to her feet, dusting off her pajama pants and offering Chat a hand.

“Why are you always right,” he asked, allowing her to pull him up. They both went out onto the terrace and Chat perched on the railing.

“Good night, Chat Noir.” Marinette said with a small smile.

“Good night, Marinette,” He responded, smiling in kind. He stood up on the railing and gave her a two-fingered salute, before pulling out his staff and bounding away across the city.

And Just Like That... Everything Changed Part 3

Hey loves! Sorry it’s taken me a while to get this out to you! And thankyou for being amazing people who are reading my fics I love you all! xx I hope you liked this chapter and I will start on the next one very soon xxx

the link to part two is here which gives the link to part one as well :)

“Can I see him?” Betty asked the doctor. Her tone was hopeful, exhausted and desperate all at once. 

The doctor hesitated.

“Immediate family only at the moment.”

Her heart dropped and her nails dug into the skin of her palms. She blanched, her lips quivering as the too white walls of the waiting room closed in on her. Her breath was starting to leave her again and the anxiety filled knots in her stomach only coiled tighter as the cracks in her heart that had just closed up a little gaped wide open again. 

“We understand you have regulations Doc, but ah, Jughead’s family aren’t here.” Fred mediated. Betty eyes flitted either side of her suddenly realising she wasn’t alone before the surgeon. Archie and Fred were on one side of her while her mother stood on the other. 

The doctor hesitated again before them, eyes straining and mouth set. 

Her brain kicked into gear and Betty squared her shoulders preparing for a fight. If nothing else Betty Cooper fought for the people she loved and she would undoubtedly fight for Jughead Jones forever. Because that’s what people like them, who had gone through what they’d gone through did. 

“Look I don’t want to be rude but I watched my boyfriend get shot in front of my eyes, bleed out in front of me and die in an ambulance. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her voice was hard, the darkness giving it a cutting edge that almost scared her. Any other day she would have been terrified to unfurl that part of herself in front of so many people- anyone that wasn’t him- but today she didn’t care. Today she had to embrace her darkness so she could get to the love of her life in the darkest time of his. She needed him, and he needed her and nothing was going to inhibit that.

The doctor’s eyes softened a little after the initial shock of the broken girl’s stone words wore away, sympathy leaking through his professional exterior for the girl who had been through hell and back in less than 24 hours. 

“We’re all he’s got. We are his family.” Archie added sincerely and Betty spared a moment from glaring at the older man before her to shoot a grateful smile at her best friend. 

“Okay,” the man relented “But two at a time please." 

Betty moved with a new energy, one that should not have been possible in her current state of distress and fatigue. The doctor had barely managed to move aside before the determined blonde was pushing through the double doors that led to the ICU rooms. She heard a call of “Room 106” from the distance but she was too far gone to really acknowledge the doctor apprehensively warning those left about the shock of seeing him in such a state.

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Across the Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide


AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market.

RATING: Teen and Up

For the month, Loki thought about what Ariella had told him. He spent more time paying attention to when peasant matters arose when he was in his father’s council, learning about the realm, and he realised that nearly nothing was said of the issues of the lower classes. Everything was about their productivity, nothing of their wellbeing. He watched as the man in charge of such matters, Lord Ivan rambled on, dressed in his finest silks and gold gleaming in the light as he spoke about how there had to be more done about getting them to be more productive. Loki watched as his father merely nodded and Thor seemed to be daydreaming, neither paying any heed to what was being said.

He went to the city a couple more times in the month, not on days of any particular importance and though she said she would not return until the following country market, he kept an eye out for Ariella, but she was not there. When the day finally came again for the market, Loki prepared for it well in advance, he feigned a small headache the night before and stated he was going to use the day of rest to read and recover in his rooms. Being as reclusive as he was, his parents and brother paid no heed to him. Usually Loki could be found indoors anyway, be it in some dark corner of an unused room practising magic he was not supposed to know yet, or in his rooms, or even in the indoor training arena, he was renowned for his love of the outdoors, unlike Thor, his mother, and others, though that the reason for their highly contrasting skin tones.

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The Truth is Beautiful

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 797

A/N: Drabble request by anonymous – “So I know you wrote one a lot like this, but im really insecure and usually dont accept compliments of people telling me im beautiful, and so in the imagine where Cas tells the reader they’re beautiful, could you do one where the reader kinda insists he’s wrong?” Descriptions of reader insecurity regarding their looks and Cas being the fluffiest damn angel in the garrison.

You sensed Castiel’s eyes on you for the umpteenth time that evening. Glancing up from the faded dusty dog-eared tome perched on your lap to peer across the table, you managed to catch his sapphire gaze before he could furtively look away. The angel’s habit of staring wasn’t anything new; in fact, you considered it an integral component of his personality. But you already felt especially self-conscious that day and Cas’ innocent ogling was getting under your skin. “What the hell are you staring at?” you snapped – the words came out harsher than intended and you cringed internally.

“I apologize,” his throat stiffly bobbed as he swallowed hard, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well bang up job!” you huffed, unable to stifle the frustration you were feeling with yourself and redirecting it squarely at the well-meaning angel.

Cas’ regard dropped to his lap, his brow knotted and jaw tensed in an agonized expression.

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I’ve found you at last

part 1 + ao3

The papers arrive in a manila folder, hand-delivered by the lawyer Nomi found and Lito hired, a small balding man with a terrible French accent when he speaks English. Kala leads him to the small office, grateful for the Cluster packed as silently as possible in the living room. She doesn’t want to have to explain why she shares an apartment with a dozen other people from all over the world, not when she is about to do something as important as this. Only Riley and Wolfgang are by her side when the lawyer goes through all the papers she needs to read and check and sign, initials and dates she scribbles at the bottom of each page.

It was settled that Rajan would leave her the Parisian apartment if she didn’t ask for anything else, and Kala had too eagerly agreed. Everything else had been done peacefully, through his lawyer and hers, emails sent back and forth halfway across the world during a week or so before the official papers were written, printed, and ready to be sent to a judge.

Hollywood movies Capheus insists on watching had prepared her for more trouble than her divorce turns out to be.

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Dawn Will Come (1/?)

Pairing: Ellana Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

Summary: Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan, with a heart made of steel and ice, made decisions that shook the world. But she cared less for those nearest to her. She sacrificed the Chargers and left Blackwall to be hanged. She also told Commander Cullen Rutherford to resume taking lyrium, knowing that it was a death sentence.

Ellana Lavellan, once First to Clan Lavellan, had lost everything. Bandits had killed her clan and everything she knew about her heritage was now being questioned. Aimless and lifeless, she found a beggar suffering from lyrium madness on the streets of Val Chevin. On a whim she decided to help this beggar, even if it killed her.

But instead of death, Cullen and Ellana found a second chance.

Genre: Slow burn, angst, romance, happy endings, self-discovery, adventure, blood magic, brief mind control, post-Trespasser 

Beta: @waltzing-with-my-inner-geek (the best ever!)

A/N: I’m sorry to all good wonderful Inquisitors named Evelyn Trevelyan! I went with a default Inquisitor here instead of making one up.

(Read on AO3 Or below)

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Limerance Chapter 2

Viviane aspires to join the Winter Court’s guard, but Kallias is not favorable to the idea. The guard is a dangerous position to hold and the High Lors heir knows deep within that Viviane would not be suited for it. This leas to Kallias and Viviane having their first fight. 

“One day I am going to join the guard!” Viviane exclaimed with excitement as she swung down from a low-hanging pine branch and landed with ease beside Kallias. A few years had passed since their first fateful encounter in the gardens outside the Winter Court castle.

During that passing of time Viviane and Kallias strengthened their friendship and became known to play or study together. They were inseparable.

“What guard? The High Lord’s Court guard?” Kallias raised a curious brow as he matched Viviane’s stride back toward her home.

Surely that is not what Viviane meant. It took many years of training to join and even more skill that the usual fae

Then there was also the matter of gender. Viviane was a female and more often then not males were the only ones accepted into the forces inside the castle walls. In fact Kallias only recalled a handful of females that had worked their way to the guard over the past centuries.

Yet even if those obstacles were not there for some reason Kallias couldn’t see Viviane holding a position among some of the more ruthless and reserved.

It didn’t suite her lively personality. Viviane should be able to interact with others and bring life to conversations. Not standing among the halls or going to battle against the Winter Court enemies.

Kallias dared not imagine Viviane on the front lines.

Keep reading

Take it like a trooper

Originally posted by poesexual-finn


ok so this one i actually have the word count for: 2339 words

prompt: Can you do a storm pilot fan fiction where Fin feels like he doesn’t belong and Poe and Leia are just to nice to ask him to leave bonus: make somebody tell him that he’s just a stormtrooper nobody wants extra bonus: if Poe is prepared to/does fight them to get them to leave Finn alone

harsh… i like it

warnings: fighting, self hate

other than that, its all good! oh and hella gay ok continue 

sophie x

Finn didn’t feel like he fit in the resistance. He never had. Even on the very first day people around him were bustling around trying to get somewhere where he didn’t know was, and everyone was doing something, the only thing he seemed to do was either for Rey or Poe, wether it was helping the ‘greatest pilot in the resistance’ with tinkering and improving his ship, or wether it was being the person that Rey sparred with, no one really paid him any mind, and he prefered it that way to how it was now.

Someone in the ranks had heard something, probably from a prisoner or had put two and two together and eventually realised what Finn was, at least what they thought he was.

Now, not even westley would approach him to say good morning, and no one would dare look him in the eye.

The few that did try and talk to him were either Chewie, the general, Rey and Poe. Of course, when it wasn’t them it was usually some angry pilots whom had taken it upon themselves to make Finn’s life a living hell. Funnily enough he only did this when Rey and Poe were gone, and today they were doing rounds to Maz’s Palace, leaving Finn to feel like a piece of Ton Ton meat on a butchers hook.

He had just finished a meeting with the general after discussing ways that the first order might upgrade their technology, the had done it before and they could do it again, as well as their harvesting of kyber crystals. He pushed the firm double doors open from her council chamber and walked up the stairs to the tarmac, where Poe should be arriving from soon, when he got the feeling that he was suddenly being watched, as if two eyes were trying to burn holes in his back, no wait four, oh no, six.

He froze when a figure stepped out in front of him and blocked his path to the tarmac, however the light shining from the outside was enough to make him look like simply a large black shape, with no facial features whatsoever, yet when he spoke, finn was certain he could hear him sneer.

“Hey stormy, how many people d’ya kill?” the sheer anger and disgust was evident. Of course it would be. Many people on this base had lost family members to the first order, to nameless thugs or people dressed in sharp white, only allowing the blood to be seen more clearly after they had done their deed. Some had even been privy to the slashing of a red tool of execution humming in content as it claimed another, and another, and another. Finn knew all too well the burn of that sabre.

“None.” he replied shortly, trying to maneuver his way round the man, guarding the doorway like a stray akk dog, which he had been so unfortunate to run into on Anoat.

The group laughed dryly at his response, a couple letting themself snicker before regaining their composure and standing back to their original stances, legs firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed as if shielding themselves from what he had to say.

“Then how come some people have seen you killing? Seen a guy in a white mask killing?” this man must have seriously hurt his head as a child, because Finn could find no other reason to why he would not be able to understand the concept of uniform.

“Because all stormtroopers wear white.” he said, almost in a patronising tone.

“Ah ha! And how do you know that.” he replied smugly, leaning against the wall as if it would support his argument in some way or another.

“Because i have common sense.” Finn muttered. Of course, in hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to say that to men whom had probably lost a loved one to the same people he seemed to be defending, and that perhaps it would have made sense to simply explain the concept of uniform to them as if he were talking about the resistance jackets, or perhaps the resistance planes, but unfortunately, a painful and sudden whack to the back of the head seemed to have taken all of the common sense from him.

Falling to his knees, he felt his hand go to the area where he had been his only to remove it due to the presence of a hot, sticky substance, and when he examined the substance, he saw a few drops of scarlet on his fingers, dripping onto the cuff of Poe’s jacket.

Another blow came, except this time from the front, landing squarely on his jaw, causing pain, and probably a bruise, to bloom in the area. Then a kick to the stomach, winding him, then one to the nose, knocking him to the ground.

Pain was emanating from everywhere as all four of the men began to kick vigorously, blow after blow after blow after blow, each one with more force than the rest.

“Fight back!” one of them screamed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

That kick was for the mother he could have saved, that one was for the sister which they dragged away screaming. This one was for the brother, and that one for the father who would never see each other again. Every blow became the faces of people whom he watched disappeared. He may not have killed anyone, but he had definitely not stopped them from dying.

“Finn!” someone was screaming his name, but he couldn’t be sure, blood was rushing through his ears and he felt himself becoming short of breath, each time he inhaled it seemed to become more and more painful and he was vaguely aware of another figure coming to join the gang. Of course, he wasn’t surprised, this was probably what everyone wanted right? The stormtrooper to be punished.

Suddenly, one set of feet stopped, becoming absent from the group leaving Finn to draw in a small breath, before he heard a sickening crack. Not from him though, from just above where the man he had seen running forwards was gripping the hems of the main attackers jacket, yet this one looked different to most jackets because there were small drip designs that seemed to be moving and, oh, was his nose supposed to bend that way?

He saw the man flop to the floor before feeling the other three attackers suddenly halt their onslaught, and yet again heard sickening cracks resonating through the hallway and probably out to the other pilots.

Letting out a breath, Finn relaxed and let himself sink into the ground, however he became aware of a pair of boots which seemed to be circling him. Ah well, let them do what they want, he was on the verge of unconsciousness anyway.

“Finn?” a voice softly whispered towards him, not in a threatening way like the men before, but in a worried, scared way which made Finn puzzled.

The boots were now joined by a set of knees and arms, and before long, a face. Of course, even in this state, Finn could easily recognise those dark curls and warm caramel eyes, yet, his mouth wasn’t doing the thing that it usually did, what was that thing? Oh yeah, smiling. He wasn’t smiling, in fact he was doing the opposite of smiling, he was frowning. Finn didn’t like it, it didn’t suit him.

“Finn can I pick you up? I need to take you to the med bay and to do that i need to pick you up, is that alright?” Finn felt himself nod slowly before closing his eyes. The light from outside was getting too strong and he could feel the pounding in his head increasing.

Suddenly he felt his left side start to burn, as it was shifted and pulled upwards, extracting a sharp, pained groan. Poe seemed to freeze, before taking in a sharp breath and wrapping an arm around FInn’s waist, almost tentatively.

He pulled Finn up the stairs, carefully navigating one at a time and ending up on the main tarmac, where people had begun to gather around to see what all of the commotion was about.

Poe seemed to be muttering something in another language, under his breath as he distractedly waded through the crowds towards the med bay, his arm ever so slightly tightening its grip around Finn’s waist, some would say protectively, and Poe was definitely part of those some.

When they finally made it to the med bay, Finn collapsed onto the bed as Poe had put him down. The pilot walked towards the main nurse and explained to him what had happened. During this time, two other nurses had joined Finn and was examining his injuries, first by applying light pressure around the body, then to moving his legs, and as they began to move his right arm, Finn gave out a scream in pain.

Instantly Poe ran over to see what all of the commotion was about, hearing a nurse whisperer something about a broken humerus.

He sat down on a chair between the bed and the doorway, almost blocking out everyone else. He was scanning Finn’s face for any sort of sigh, or why he may have let this happen to himself, but nothing came across to him, apart from a violet bruise on his jawline, and what was eventually going to be a swollen eye.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” his voice seemed small, compared to the usually loud and energetic way he spoke when face to face with Finn.

Finn didn’t move, he just kept staring into the space above him, and possibly further. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the question, perhaps he didn’t want to, but either way, he most definitely didn’t answer.

Poe moved his hand from his own lap onto the top of Finn’s left arm, as if trying to pull him back to reality.

“Finn?” still no response.

“Finn please.” in that moment, not that he would like to admit it, Poe Dameron was scared. He was afraid of what those men would of done to Finn if he weren’t there, he was scared to why Finn wasn’t talking, and most of all, he was afraid it would happen again. He was scared for Finn.

Finn turned his head and looked at Poe, trying to gauge some sort of emotion from him, yet he simply couldn’t focus on one. Every feeling that had ever taken over him became something that he couldn’t control and Poe felt a single tear start to travel from his eye.

“Why did you let them hurt you?”

The vulnerability in Poe’s voice seemed to set off a match in Finn, something that he didn’t want to hear. This was the best pilot in the resistance and he was crying over some ex stormtrooper?

“They were right.” he whispered out.

Poe looked back up.

“What do you mean they were right?

“They were right to do it, I’m a stormtrooper, and every stormtrooper deserves all the bad that happens to them.”

Poe felt somewhat taken aback. Perhaps it was the fact that he still called himself a stormtrooper, or perhaps it was the bitter tone in his voice, or even how much he seemed to hate what he was rather than who he was, either way it momentarily stopped Poe in his tracks.

“But you didn’t hurt anyone.” he replied slowly, scooting closer and closer towards Finn until they were side to side, shoulders touching, with Poe almost having sat on the bed.

Finn laughed coldly, hanging his head and letting some of the anger which he had desperately been trying to hold back free. Not holding it back because it could hurt someone else, holding it back because it may hint to how much he had been mentally hurting himself.

“I didn’t help them either.” bitterness had laced Finn’s voice and made the statement sound so cruel.

Finn felt a warmth on his hand as he looked down to see Poe’s resting atop his, and let his hand be turned over before palms met palms and Poe gently pushed Finn’s fingers apart to make room for his own, then settling by wrapping themselves around each other.

Looking back up, Finn saw an element of, pride? That was what it was Poe’s eyes were filled with pride. Why they were eluded Finn. perhaps it was some sort of an inside joke? He wouldn’t have been surprised, he always seemed to be the punchline of jokes.

Very gently, Poe got his other arm to move towards Finn’s cheek, careful to avoid the bruise, and moved his face towards his, and finally, when their foreheads were touching, he saw Finn’s eyes flit down to his lips then back to his eyes.

“You helped me.” Poe whispered.

Finn felt himself lean forwards and meet Poe’s lips, as he let go of his hand and brought his good arm to wrap around Poes’ neck. Their lips moved in sync as they moulded against each other and gently caressed the latter’s. Finn’s hand began to grab fistfulls of Poe’s shirt whilst Poe’s free hand seem to have wandered to Finn’s stomach. As he began to playfully push against it, Finn hissed.

They both pulled away and drew in breath, both of them flushed and both of them equally wishing that it didn’t have to end there.

Poe gave Finn a playful smirk and leant to his ear.

“Ya know, if you heal quickly we could resume this some other time?”

Finn gave Poe a laugh, and smiled up at him.

“Maybe, definitely.”

It was Poe’s turn to smile, ad he gently gave Finn a gentle kiss, before standing.

“Sorry, but i have to go.” he whispered. Finn simply smiled in response.

As he watched the pilot walk away, he had a thought that would drive him on to the future.

Animation Terrorists - NME cover article 17 March 2001

The first Gorillaz Interview! 

Kicking out the bland, cooking up the alternative. The future is coming on and, say Gorillaz, it belongs to them

Mark Beaumont

The courier carries the package into the reception at arm’s length. Sweating profusely, he place it tentatively on the receptionist’s desk, whimpers “sign here” and runs screaming from the building. The parcel bucks wildly, rocks violently on its edges. From inside comes a muffled “Kon-nichi-wa, NOODLE!”, and suddenly two small, Japanese, completely flat legs karate-kick through each side. Two completely flat arms punch out of the bubble wrap and a completely flat Japanese girl’s head pops out of the top. With a gurgled cry of ‘Sayonara! NOODLE!”, Noodle, the youngest and coolest android guitarist in rock, jumps down from the reception desk, waddles quickly to the nearest lift and pushes the button for the 25th floor.
In the NME office all cartoon-freaked bastard hell has broke loose. 2D, the black-eyed, blue-haired pretty boy singer is spray painting ‘ZOMBIE HOP HOP’ and ‘CHRIS MARTIN SUCKS FURRY COCK’ across the office stereo. Russel, the hulking NYC hardman drummer., rummages through drawers stealing any CDs by the Wu-Tang Clan and Shakin’ Stevens. Meanwhile Murdoc, the scrag faced, green-toothed, Beezlebub-worshipping bassist with the halitosis like a badger’s scrotum, has taken over the editor’s office and is offering all female staff “some satanic slap ‘n’ tickle in me Winnebago”. Suddenly he spies a copy of NME’s ‘Popstars’ issue, howls with demonic rage and eats it.

“I think this is a perfect example of how fucking diabolical it’s getting.” He slavers. “Where you have to have a programme where you pick your own pop stars. What the fuck is going on?”
So says the warped and wicked Svengali behind Gorillaz, animation wiv additood, a vibrant alternative to boring old Realbloke Rock, the first ever cartoon band to call Bob The Builder a “cunt” and back it up with baseball bats. They’re the Technicolor Pop Blitzkreig behind the stupendous ragga-western drug ditty ‘Clint Eastwood’ and they’re here to infiltrate NME like a cartoon foot and mouth disease. See them go, spreading like wildfire between the pages, trampling in the faces of Terris, until they reach the cover where they set fire to toilet rolls and shove them under Daft Punk’s helmets. They may be two-dimensional, but Gorillaz are way more real than the shallow plastic edifices of most pop stars. With the shadowy figures of Blur’s Damon Albarn, hip-hop producer Dan The Automator and Tank Girl creator Jamie Hewlett lingering in the background they have come to drag the concept of band manufacture into the next dimension.

“This isn’t getting a bunch of 17-year-olds with pretty faces who can do backflips with big tits and making a record for them,” Murdoc sneers, pulling a dart from his pocket and throwing it at a picture of Fatboy Slim on the wall, missing and hitting 2D in the head instead. “We’ve got a bit more integrity than that”.
“I guess it’s a bit like Eminem,” 2D muses, pulling the dart from his temple, “in that we’re reflecting what’s out there anyway. I just think we’re doing it in a much more intelligent way than he could dream of doing it.”
And with that, Murdoc swings his feet onto the editor’s desk, loses his balance and falls backwards into a filing cabinet, causing a shower of objects, including three bowling balls, a cricket bat and a large anvil to fall onto his head. Three black ravens start circling his cranium.
“Wanker,” scorns 2D.
“Pair of assholes,” tuts Russel.
“NOODLE!” shouts Noodle.

Who let the Gorillaz out!?! Several freaks of fantastical fate, it transpires. While on a routine ram-raiding mission with his gang of scuzzball twat-mates two years ago, Murdoc pile-drove into the window of Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium in Crawley, where 2D was working part-time. Russel was next on board, fresh from New York where he’d been possessed by the spirit of Del That Funkee Homosapien when Russel was the only survivor of a random and savage drive-by. Sheesh, Rus, you must have felt lucky not to get rubbed out.
Russel: “….”
Sorry. That was in bad taste. The day that their advert for a guitarist appeared in NME, a FedEx parcel arrived on Murdoc’s doorstep, ten-year-old Tamagotchi axe-toddler Noodle leapt out, having posted herself from Osaka, and Gorillaz were go! Their first gig at the legendary Camden Brownhouse started a shotgun-fuelled riot. But most contentious of all are the foggy rumours surrounding the involvement of sometime Gorillaz collaborators Damon, Dan and Jamie. The band claim that they discovered the trio sleeping rough in Leicester Square. But whispers abound that Gorillaz are simply leeching off their famous mates’ credibility.
2D shrugs. “Well it’s nice of you to say that they have any credibility in the first place.”
“When you’re old farts like them,” adds Murdoc, “completely out of ideas, you need to attach yourselves to some young talent.”
Too right, I mean that last Blur album… pffffftt, bloody hell, eh>
2D: “Well you might well have a point there…”
You must’ve thought Damon had gone completely bleedin’ barmy” Going walkabout round Mali, singing nonsense lyrics on the last single…
2D smirks. “As they said in NME, how dare he think he can get away with it!? We thought he was easy fodder, a man who’d lost his way.”
Have you saved their careers?
Murdoc: “We’ve saved Jamie’s. He was washed up. He was doing illustrations for J17 magazine! We’ve given them something interesting to get their teeth into and something to get out of bed for.”

Hmmmm, one senses that there may be a flipside to this argument…
“That story’s a load of bollocks,” says Damon emphatically, clad in baseball cap and chunky B-boy glitter in a west London studio the following day. “They came to us at a party. Me and Jamie used to live together for a while and Murdoc and 2D turned up at a party where we had Sporty Spice, Baby Spice, Pavement, a couple of members of Radiohead, Madonna. No, Madonns wasn’t there, but Kate Moss was there, Marianne Faithful, Keith Allen…”
“The funny thing was,” says Jamie Hewlett, “the following night, Damon got photographed getting some eggs, yet all fucking night the front door was open and not a single fucking journo came upstairs with a camera.”
Midway through recording his “Mali record”, Damon seems enthused and rejuvenated by his involvement with Gorillaz. He praises 2D’s simple yet profoundly impressionistic lyrics and practically speaks in tongues about the band’s forthcoming London gig (at King’s Cross Scala on March 22) claiming “it all goes into the realms of metaphysics and what is real. I won’t be there, though. I’ll be abroad. I’m going to Mongolia that week to hang out with a shaman there.”
“But because there isn’t a human face to it,” Damon continues, “it’s the abstraction which I think is groundbreaking. Hopefully we’ll inspire people to have no boundaries. It’s liberating. The whole idea of them being animated is that they can go anywhere. The only thing it’s limited by is out imagination.”
Gorillaz eponymous debut album is a kind of Frankenstein’s Furby of a record: awash with dark, apocalyptic hip-hop atmosphere and undead reggae grooves, but clashed through with an innocent streak of kindergarten pop. It’s Deltron 3030 playing conkers with ‘13’, it’s Beck punching The Clash outside a pub on Sesame Street and it’s groundbreaking indeed, not least for its rampant eclecticism.
“Coldplay are very conservative,” says Damon. “If what sets itself up as the alternative could get any more conservative than Travis, it just has. It’s melodic and it’s memorable but for all the wrong reaons. This whole stance that ‘we’re only in it for the music’ how many times does that C86 ethos have to get churned out?”
Plus the whole Gorillaz concept is a marketing department’s we dream. In an age when image manipulation has become as precise a science as nuclear fusion, real people with real human drug addictions, skin complaints and ballooning egos simply aren’t considered flawless enough to be pop stars. And real rock musicians are boring, ugly, self-obsessed, have shit hair and stink constantly of stale plectrum. So what could be better than a ready-baked bunch of freakoid mutant meta-pop stars with psycho-rebel personalities that make Oasis look like the Tweenies?
“ I think being in a famous pop band, many years down the line,” says Jamie, cryptically, “will start to restrict you from doing the sort of stuff you want to do because you’ve got to fit into some sort of mould that’s been created for you and if you’re a creative person that stops you from creating. Working with an animated band is the ideal opportunity to let go and do what you’re good at.”
Really though, Damon, this is just an excuse to get out of doing photo shoots, isn’t it?
Involuntarily, Damon gives a sly, knowing grin.
The thing about speed is, Murdoc jabbers, flakes dripping from each nostril, “if you end up being the sort of person who gets into doing cocaine when you go to parties and then you go back to doing speed, you end up saying ‘Give us eighty quid’s worth’ and you get a dirty great sugar bag full…”
Shit shovelling time. We already know about Murdoc’s chronic speed habit that kept him almost permanently blind throughout the ‘90s and his sexual desperation which will see him lunge at anything that once had a pulse in the early hours.
The there are those scurrilous rumours about 2D waking up after the Brits win bed with the three girls from Captain Caveman.
2D sneers. “They were just after the publicity.”
We recently interviewed Bob The Builder and he said of Gorillaz, “The drummer is a nice bloke, the little Asian one I haven’t met but I hear she’s alright. But that singer and that bassist, I hope they catch mildew because I fucking hate them two.” Why would he say such a thing?
2D: “That’s Noel The Builder, isn’t it?”
Murdoc: “ I think I probably shagged his girlfriend or something. Betty the Builder.”
2D: “it’s all there, mate! You wanna read it, you can! I tell you what happened, right. I shagged Noel The Builder’s brother’s girlfriend.”
Murdoc: “He’s a cunt anyway. We’re outta here.”
And with that, Murdoc kick starts a blood-red, completely flat Harley Davidson, Russel, Noodle and 2D leap on the back and they ride it straight through the 25th floor window. The bike vrooms for a few feet, then splutters dead. The band hang in the air for a few seconds, confused, until Murdoc peers downwards, cries “MOTHER FUCKAAAAAAARRRRSSSS!” and they plummet out of sight.
When Gorillaz hit the ground, Gorillaz *bounce*

Return to the Halls of Fire: (1/2)

[A story of Felo’thore returning to his fire dueling grounds- backdated a few weeks. @ocarina-of-what and @spiral-seeker @emberfallen & @cynfuldax @curiouslich @sparklepriest for Underbelly mage-duel stuff.]

“It can’t be. She was my best student at the academy.”

It started with a letter sent from a caring friend of a magistrix whom he’d once mentored. A stubborn woman by the name of Ledotta Dewlantern, who had succumbed to the lust of dueling illegally in the Dalaran Sewers. The astromancer could not sit idle knowing- not when the grace of his former headmaster had plucked him from the throes of arrogance and poor choices that told an inglorious story of his youth in the Violet City.

There was seldom a time Felo'thore ever opened the one other door in his portal bedroom. The man had it blocked by precarious furniture and his usual clutter, hushing and requesting Adrianal firmly that it was the one space in his mysterious room he was not to meddle with. But it was on that day Felo’thore inhaled a deep breath, pushing his furniture aside and whispering the door to unlock before the both of them.

There was truth in what the mage had disclosed what was behind the door- that it was a part of his mind he did not wish to visit again. But the spark of temptation was lit in his heart and in place of the anger that once boiled his blood to slag, there was a bright and noble passion as Felo'thore looked upon the menacing facade of his former dueling regalia. Once upon a time there was a legend of a man loved no one but himself- A man that fought bitterly with rivals to which time could not fade grudges. The willowy sorcerer considered this reflection as his fingers grazed the elaborate and brooding fabric.

Keep reading

A Fix

By the time the White Widow reached Quel’Thalas, the crew was stunned by what they saw. The harbor was sheer chaos - ships crowded one another in attempts to both dock and flee, quel’dorei jumping ship and swimming to shore, some even caught beneath the hulls and being pulled down into the depths. Billows of dark smoke hung above the city, clouding the colorful spires…and the stench of death, fire, and brimstone permeated the air.

Quel’Thalas’s docks were too far to see the details of the riots, but the crew could only assume that what chaos there was on the water, it was compounded on land. And so it came of no surprise when the captain’s low, gravelly voice barked the order, “Brace and moor her here! We ain’t goin’ any closer. This is fuckin’ good ‘nuff.”

Keep reading

Don't Tell Your Brother

“Don’t tell your brother”

Aaron Burr x Reader

Prompt/request: Burr x reader with her finding young Theo wandering the market, sobbing, its 2 yrs after Thoedosia I died. Reader can be Alexander’s sister, so she understands losing mother at young age. Aaron doesn’t know her. Does this help, or am I imposing somehow?

Warnings: mentions of death, sickness, loneliness, implied smut at the end

Thank you so much to @tyntathefangurl for this request!

When you find a 5 year old roaming the big market space, alone and crying, you can either act, or ignore.
Thankfully, you chose to act.
Your life in America had begun not too long ago, only about 3 years had you been in this country. You had traveled the long journey, alone, to reunite with your brother, Alexander.
You always enjoyed company, but unfortunately, as you were an immigrant, people often refused to talk to you. Very few people had accepted you in this new, cold country. Thus, you were often found spending your afternoons alone, trying to kill time, because Alexander was always busy, always gone.
Today, like most days, you found yourself wandering the marketplace, occupying yourself in the tailor’s window, giggling and waving at the big burly man inside, who always pretended to dance with the mannequins when you passed. He was one of Alexander’s friends, and he was usually able to cheer you up.
You crossed the street to the bakery, opting to buy a pastry to bring home to Alexander, who you knew would be writing for a couple days straight.
You sat at one of the tables, alone, and began to think to yourself of all the things that had led you to be here. Why did Alexander have to lead you to this country, where you were almost certain you were hated? If it weren’t for Alexander’s fiancée’s family, the Schuyler’s, you were almost certain that you would have been back in St. Croix, most likely dead.
You were interrupted from your thoughts by a small shriek.
Your head whipped up, and you saw a woman pointing her finger, horrified, at a young girl standing in the middle of Main Street. A horse and carriage was only feet away from her, and she was about to get hit.
Quickly, you jumped up from your seat and grabbed the girl’s arm, yanking her backwards, just barely avoiding the carriage.
A cloud of dust surrounded you, and you collapsed into a coughing fit. Your family had a history of bad health, and you were the victim of it all.
You sat down in your chair, trying to stop the fits of coughing that racked your body. The girl was still there, staring absentmindedly at you. Then, she took off running, past the men and women, who curiously followed her with their eyes.
You took deep breaths, but only ended up inhaling more dust. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you couldn’t seem to catch a single breath.
Then, you felt a comforting hand rubbing your back, helping you slowly calm down.
You breathed a sigh of relief, and closed your eyes for a moment before looking up at your savior.
He was a younger looking man, with dark eyes and a concerned expression.
“Are you alright, ma'am? I’m really sorry, my daughter-”
You waved your hand at him.
“No. No, it’s alright. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.”
His eyes displayed great gratitude.
“Even so, you could have disregarded her completely. Thank you very much for saving Theodosia here. I’m forever in debt.”
You smiled back.
“No worries. I’m glad she’s alright.”
He smiled.
“My name is Aaron Burr. And who do I have the great delight of greeting?”
You laughed.
“Y/N Hamilton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His brow furrowed at the mention of your last name, but he didn’t address it, so you convinced yourself that you were imagining it all.
“The pleasures all mine. Would you-”
He blushed a bit.
“Would you enjoy accompanying me for a walk around the town?”
You smiled, a true gracious smile.
An excuse to talk to another ACTUAL person? How could you refuse?
“I’d be delighted.”
He offered his arm, and you grasped it.
The first minutes were quite or so, as Theodosia skipped ahead of you, the same gaunt look on her face.
You both said at the same time.
Laughing, you proceeded to let him speak first.
“So, how’d you end up in the particular marketplace that we currently walk in, at the amazingly right time?”
You smiled.
“My brother isn’t the talkative type, more of than all-work and no-play type of guy. So I try to kill time on my own, many people won’t talk to me so I make do.”
Again, at the mention of your brother, his face scrunched up just a bit.
But like before, he didn’t address it.
“Why doesn’t anyone talk to you? You seem like a wonderful woman, and you are quite beautiful as well. What’s there not to like?”
You blushed.
“I’m an immigrant, I suppose that’s it.”
He was quite for a moment, then spoke again.
“Even if many people don’t talk to you, I want to let you know that I certainly think you are a wonderful person. And I, once again, want to thank you for saving Theo. She-”
His voice cracked slightly.
“She’s all I have. My wife died two years ago.”
You stopped him.
“Oh, Mr. Burr-”
“It’s Aaron. Please.”
“Okay. Aaron. I’m so sorry. Theodosia is a wonderful girl, and I’m very sorry for what happened to her mother.”
He nodded.
“Thank you. She was a great woman. And…”
He trailed off.
“Never mind. I suppose you wouldn’t understand.”
You stopped again.
“Understand what?”
“It’s… never mind.”
“Please, tell me.”
“You haven’t gone through my situation. I can’t say.”
“Your situation?”
You felt your anger growing.
“I’m sorry if I offend you, but I honestly can’t do this.”
You let go of his arm and began to run through the market, towards your home.
You slammed the door and began to cry. As soon as you’d met someone new, it all came crashing down.
You missed your mom. A lot. And for Aaron to say that you didn’t understand his loss was a punch to the chest.
You sat on your bed until you were sure Alexander was securely in his office for the rest of the night before putting on your shawl and heading out into the darkness.
You began to travel to the address you’d scrawled on a piece of paper before Alexander had returned from Eliza’s house. You’d snuck into his office and nabbed his address book for sending letters, quickly copying down Aaron’s address.
You arrived at the brick house, and squared your shoulders before knocking on the heavy door.
You heard footsteps coming from inside, then a disheveled-looking Aaron emerged.
“Y/N, I-”
“Please just listen to me. Just for a minute.”
He closed his mouth and nodded. You took a deep breath.
“I have never married. I don’t know what it’s like to fall in love. Yes, I love my brother. But I’ve never felt anything of romance. So no, I may not understand your EXACT situation. But I’ve experienced loss, Aaron. My mother died when I was 9. I was old enough to remember her. And I miss her. Dearly. It hurts me everyday to wake up and know she’s not here. And it’s sad. Those we love are taken far too soon. And I may not know what love is, but I damn know for sure that I know what loss is like.”
Aaron stood there, his eyes slightly glazed over.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I was being stupid. I’m in over my head but god… you’re an amazing woman, Y/N. I knew the minute I saw you that I would be swept off my feet. But you completely knocked me out. And I’m struggling to comprehend what’s right and wrong. I love Theodosia, the woman for who my daughter is named after. And I will forever be thinking of her. But you have stolen my heart and I think I’m going insane. So I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it, I hope that-”
You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, very softly. He kissed back, and you felt a warm feeling spread through your body. Pure bliss.
Once you pulled apart, you stared into his eyes.
“You’ve shown me what love is, Aaron.”
“And you’ve shown me how to love again.”
“How can I ever repay you, kind sir?”
You joked sarcastically.
He smirked and whispered in your ear.
“I can think of a few ways.”
You smiled, and said,
“Don’t worry. My love can be shown throughout my body.”
He pulled you close, and flipped you into his house.
“Oh, and Y/N, one thing before we do this.”
You hummed.
“Don’t tell your brother.”

The Signs as Gothic Literature
  • Aries: The old grandfather clock sitting in the window of your local antique store. It's covered in a thick layer of dust, its gears are swathed in a forest of cobwebs, yet it still keeps ticking. The store owner has attempted to take it apart several times, but every time he opens the back, his eyes glaze over, and he is filled with an indescribable dread. Its bell tolls exactly 2 minutes after sunset.
  • Taurus: The thick fog that blankets the graveyard on Wednesday evening. Regardless of the weather, it rolls in, steaming out from the gnarled roots of the weeping willow, filling the air with a syrupy moisture. Upon dissipation, all the offerings resting before the tombstones are gone. It descends quickly; your neighbor Alice got caught in it once, and didn't reemerge until next week. She said it smelled vaguely of olive oil, with just a splash of basil.
  • Gemini: Do not look behind you. It's following you, hiding in your shadow, lurking in the corner of your eye, slipping in through that door you always leave cracked open. It looms over you while you sleep, breathing in time with your snores, stretching its maw when you yawn. That flicker of light you see when you look in the mirror? That's it. That odd, dark lump in the frame of your selfies? That's it. No amount of filters will convince it to leave.
  • Cancer: The bits of sea glass that you stumble upon during your evening strolls. They started off typical; shades of aquamarine, indigo, and baby blue. Lately, they have been washing up on shore at an alarming rate, ranging from blood red, to obsidian black. You didn't even know glass could be so opaque. Your friend collects them, hoarding them in a mason jar, creating a wonderful collage of what nature has to offer. The jar should have been full months ago, but it never seems to run out of empty space.
  • Leo: The old record that has been hanging in your living room for as long as you can remember. The label is cream colored, and inscribed with lines of twisted symbols that give you migraines when you attempt to translate them. When you were in high school, you borrowed your music teacher's record player. As soon as the needle scraped against the vinyl, the world fell silent. You opened your mouth to scream, but your strained vocal chords could not produce a single sound. Your sister found you curled up on the carpet, lying next to an empty record player.
  • Virgo: The most reliable printer in the office. It can handle mass printing jobs without jamming, and never seems to run out of ink. Last week Jerry attempted to examine the cartridge. The black stains in between his fingers haven't washed out yet. There has been gossip that the printer might be replaced soon. Despite it's track-record, it has begun printing things without input. This morning the office floor was covered in high definition pictures of watermelons. During your lunch break, it produced a single, landscape image of a slaughterhouse. Your roast beef sandwich suddenly seemed much less appetizing.
  • Libra: The stray cat that roams the neighborhood at dusk. Its fur seems to vacillate between shades of brilliant orange and dull greys; it's probably just the lighting. You left a can of tuna on you porch for the stray. An hour later, the tuna had disappeared, and seemed to be replaced with an iridescent sort of jelly. You looked up to see a pair of green eyes staring at you from the bushes. You don't even like tuna anyway, where did that can come from? Where do all these cans keep coming from? Your fridge is full of tuna cans, leaking that substance all over the linoleum tiles. The fatter the cat grows, the more gaunt your own body becomes.
  • Scorpio: The little gray circle that appears on your phone screen when it is loading. It spins slowly, dragged down by the spotty wifi of the town. It is mesmerizing. You opened the internet to look up a brownie recipe, only to be met with the circle. Hours later, your pupils were still rolling around in your eyes, while your mother angrily sent you out to buy store bought sweets instead. If you stare at it long enough, the circle grows wider and wider, pushing past the bounds of your screen, slicing through your silicone case, and rotating around your wrists, like whirling handcuffs.
  • Sagittarius: The bouquet of roses your sister gave her fiance months ago. She put in a fake rose, saying that their love would die once the last rose did. Yet, they are all alive. You visit their apartment from time to time, and see the flowers sitting on the dining room table. You do not like eating dinner there. Your sister and her fiance prepare the food, ignoring the way the roses writhe and squirm in the vase, their thorns scratching deep lines into the table. When the meal begins, the petals start to quiver, sweating red droplets, making the entire room tremble. Your sister ends the meal by scraping the remains of her food into the vase.
  • Capricorn: The teddy bear you slept with back in the day. It's probably up in the attic somewhere, buried among piles of clothes that no longer fit and photos of people you no longer love. Its button eyes are not symmetrical; one is tiny and black, while the other is yellow and square-shaped; it vaguely resembles the button that popped off your jacket during graduation. The stuffing has gradually been leaking out the tiny rip over its stomach; now that you think about it, it's very similar to your own surgery scar. You've been having abdominal pains recently; maybe you should see your doctor.
  • Aquarius: The silver amulet on display in the jeweler's store. It is the center piece, resting safely behind a layer of freshly polished glass. When rays of sunlight pierce through the blinds, they are drawn to the magenta stone resting among the woven strands of metal. Many visitors have attempted to buy the amulet, but the jeweler refuses, not letting it out of its glass prison. And yet, everyday the store's window displays a sale, advertising the amulet at amazing prices. The jeweler insists that it is not for sale, shaking her head as her hands quiver wildly, gripping the case's keys until her knuckles turn white, her eyes filled with a primal sort of desperation.
  • Pisces: The aquarium. The billboards advertise dolphins, sharks, and seal shows. But every single tank contains the same animal. The aquarium is a room, with a ceiling that reaches 100 feet into the air, and walls made of endless rows of tanks. The water is a neon blue color; the single worker there explains that it's the result of microscopic plankton. His eyes are the same blue. Despite the endless signs warning against it, children tap at the glass, making the many-tentacled cephalopods open their beaks, and emit a bone-chilling cry. You're not sure how many there are; a closer look reveals that the tanks are all connected, with mile long tentacles wrapping around the entire aquarium.
Dame of Camelot: Part 1

I’ve got a second part coming up soon :)

Hey!! I just wanted to say I LOVE your blog!! I look at it every day to see if anything new is there. I kinda hope you don’t mind me asking for a reader x Arthur from Merlin, were the reader is tired of being judged because she’s a woman, so she challenges him and wins, and she ends up as a knight of Camelot and they get together. I really hope its not too much to ask. Send a message to let me know if you’d ur taking this please!! Ciao!!

 (Hope you like it!)

Author: Queen of Geeks

I balanced the box of sewing supplies in one hand and a basket against my hip with my other hand. All of them had or tears in them that needed stitching. They’ve all been washed, but I was the one with the most nimble of hands.

“Ah yes, and here’s the maid with the clothes.” One of the knights snickered. I rolled my eyes.

“About time.” Another laughed. “They look too pretty to do actual work.”

“Yes, because we’re the ones who do actually work.”  I shrugged my shoulders. There were snorts and I carried on making my way to the servant’s quarters. Most other maids dealt with the rude comments, but I chose to speak back.

Taking a seat in a chair, I put the basket on the floor and opened up my sewing box. Pulling one of the many shirts out, there was a large tear in the sleeve. Sighing, I began threading a needle and started sewing. Many shirts and trousers later, I was close to finishing. There were still a few clothes left, but my hands were aching. Standing up, I separated the finished clothes from the others. Most of them belonged to Arthur which was slightly concerning, but it gave me a job. I didn’t mind taking them up for Arthur. Sometimes it was nice. But sometimes he made me want to stab him with his own sword.

Those would be the days that I understood why Merlin tended to hate him. Unlike my brother, I couldn’t turn Arthur into something with magic. Merlin was lucky in that sense.

Resting my basket against hip, I knocked on the door of Arthur’s bedroom. Eventually it was opened by Merlin. I smiled at him.

“I have some clothes to drop off.” I explained when he gave me a curious look.

“I was just leaving.” Merlin opened the door and let me in. I let the door close behind me, I placed the basket on the table and looked around to see Arthur was gazing out the window.

“Your highness?” I asked. Arthur turned around and smiled at me. “Yes?” He asked looked at me. I gave him a small smile. “I have your clothes.” I told him folding my hands in front of me.

“About time.” He scoffed. I raised my eyebrows at me.


“The clothes. Why does it always take so long for them to be brought up? What else you people do?”

“Cook. Clean.” I muttered under my breath. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. Have a nice night.” I gave a quick curtsy before leaving.

Pacing back and forth in front of Merlin, I began ranting as he sat with Giaus. “All these men are sexist pigs! All they think they can do is make fun of women! If it weren’t for women, they’d have no food! Or clothes for that matter.” I was close to screaming. Taking a deep breath, I moved my hair out of my face.

“You just need to prove that they can’t do this.” Merlin told me. Giaus looked at us.

“Don’t give your sister-” Giaus began but I interrupted.

“I got it!” I whirled around to face both men. “Merlin, Arthur is having try-outs for new guards and knights.”

“Yes, but (Y/N), that requires you knowing how to fight.” Giaus pointed out. I put my hands on my hips.

“Are you on my side or not?” I asked. “I do know how to fight. I have learned.” I told him. Giaus smiled at me.

“We have faith in you, my dear.”


I rolled my shoulders back and listened to the clinking of the armor. Merlin and I were able to convince everyone we needed to polish armor. We then decided that we’d return it after the tournament. Thankfully we took one that fitted me. I tilted my head and looked at Merlin through the helmet.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Merlin asked me.

“Yes. I am completely sure.” I told him as I picked up my sword.

“Good luck.” Merlin smiled as I made my way into the field. Everyone was looking at me and I took a deep breath. Looking back at Merlin, he smiled at me and I nodded.


In front of me stood the last man trying out. It was him against me. I had to win. Mainly because I had no magic that I could use to win. I raised my sword and looked at my opponent. The signal to go went off and I dodged a swing right away. I parried and swung back. Hitting the ground, I rolled away missed another stab. Getting too my feet, I swung my sword and the force of him blocking it caused my arm to shake. He kicked and I dodged his foot. Stumbling, I fell back and rolled away. Kicking at the back of his knee, I caused him to fall.

Jumping to my feet, I swung my sword and the sword skittered out of his hand. I pressed my sword to his chest. My breath was heavy and I would feel myself sweating under the armor.

“And it appears we have a winner.” Prince Arthur walked over to us and took my wrist. Raising it in the air, everyone cheered. I took my arm from him and sheaved my sword to help my opponent.

“Good fight.” he told me. I nodded.

“Let’s see who our winner is, shall we?” Arthur asked. I looked at Merlin who was grinning.

“Fine.” I muttered to myself. Pulling it off, there was a gasp and everyone went silent. I turned to Arthur. “That’s right. It’s me. A woman.” I told him. “I won fair and square.”

“Then so be it. A Dame of Camelot. (Y/N)!” There were more cheers.

five times jimin didn’t know yoongi was in love with him

and one time he did

rating: t for some light swearing
pairing: yoonmin
word count: 7000
warnings: none?? i don’t think?? it’s mostly all fluff


jimin and yoongi are stretched out on opposite ends of thesoft couch in yoongi’s suite lounge, the length of the couch just short enough that their legs overlap, jimin’s heels digging into yoongi’s shins. after a crap day at work, his campus job in the cafeteria where, today, he had to swipe meal cards for four hours straight, sitting on a too-small stool next to the door, jimin can’t sit still. he keeps fidgeting while he’s rambling, pushing his heels deeper into yoongi’s legs, or jerking his body back so his calves smack against yoongi’s feet.

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Hello lovely readers! In this chapter we learn more about Lucy’s life outside of Natsu and Happy, and we get to meet people!! Some of my personal hc’s about characters will be popping up through out, and man do I live for brotps. 

THE STORY IS EXPANDING FINALLY. So without further ado, ta da!

Natsu Dragneel is just an ordinary 21 year old trying to get by on his craft’s business, keep his landlady off his ass, and grow his friendship with his new weird neighbor Lucy. Without revealing that he’s a witch. Or his cat can fly and talk. So maybe Natsu isn’t that normal. Things take a serious left turn for him when people from his past start showing up, and he and Lucy as well as some new -and old- friends travel across Fiore trying to find some answers. But the question is, will they be happy with what they find?

Wiccan!Natsu AU

Pairings: Nalu, Fairy Tail

Words: 4842

Rating: M

Part: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen,Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty One, Part Twenty Two, Part Twenty Three

“Lu Lu!”

“Hey Levy!” Lucy waved at her laptop screen, joy radiating off of the petite blue haired girl on the other side who kept bouncing in place. Levy and Lucy had yet to video chat, Levy’s few hours off from the Crocus Library -where she worked as the head coordinator and had written several papers already on some of the ancient texts that were found there- always seeming to clash with Lucy’s schedule. Until today of course, as both had set aside time specifically to talk. The three hour time difference didn’t help matters either.

“So how have your jobs been going? On the road to publishing already?” Levy asked excitedly, fixing her orange hairband when it was finally jostled out of place by her constant movement. Lucy giggled at her friend before breaking into a long explanation about the intricacies of her new job, and how just yesterday she had been given the small promotion of becoming one of the preliminary editors to one of their largest magazines, Sorcerer’s Weekly. Lucy still didn’t fully understand the odd name, but was excited and proud none the less. She still had her other duties to attend to at the firm, running small errands and setting up appointments and interviews for her boss Jason, not to mention her other serving job. She was currently in the middle of telling Levy about the time she had lost balance when serving what she guessed to be at least eight glasses of wine. She had put too many glasses on one side and the tray had tipped when she had taken one to place on the table, spilling one white glass on the paying customer - a judge of all people- and the other seven reds and whites on herself in an attempt to overcompensate. In the middle of the lounge side. Levy’s cackling had spurred on Lucy’s dramatic reenactment with her hands, motions wild as Lucy told her story. The two girls continued to laugh together as Levy informed Lucy that she had caused a miniature book avalanche trying to reach a book on the fifth shelf, soft titters lingering as they calmed down from their latest fit. Lucy rubbed her now sore stomach as Levy wiped away a stray tear from her eye, repositioning the laptop on the pillow that rested on top of her knees while she sat crossed legged on her living room sofa.

“So when do you meet up with Gray for lunch?” Levy questioned, Lucy’s eyes flickering to the time in the bottom right hand corner. She was set to meet him at Cana’s bar at one, which gave her another two hours to get ready and be there.

“In a couple hours, so what have you been up to? Any cute guys catch your eye?” Lucy replied, eyes glinting at the mention of any potential lover’s for her friend. Levy rolled her eyes at Lucy’s sly grin, waving her hand at the screen.

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Taehyung Appreciation

Happy Taehyung day!! For anyone that doesn’t know Tae is actually my ultimate bias and one of my favorite people ever to exist so these are not all of the reasons that I love him/he’s amazing but these are just a few (10 to be exact)

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Don’t worry, most of the time, Machoke only look mean.
despite their rather intimidating appearance, Machoke are actually gentle creatures.

Though they do love a good fight for sport, they are one of the most honorable Fighting types out there, as many of them simply refuse to use underhanded and sneaky tactics to win a match, even when it’s their trainer commanding them to. they prefer to fight fair and square with what they already have (their learned moves, fists and feet) and so in a lot of cases it can be tough to get them to use stat boosting items such as Expert belts and Life orbs and the like.

Contrary to popular belief of many people that do not own one of these Pokemon, their clothing and Power belts DO NOT naturally form on their bodies as they evolve into Machoke from Machop. once they evolve, they are still pretty much nude, and it is very much recommended (and is practically just part of the law) to obtain clothing and Power belts for them immediately. Obviously, the Power belt is needed to suppress a large amount of their immense power so that they don’t immediately (and unintentionally) destroy everything with a single touch. The clothes are needed simply because their bodily structures are so similar to our own, meaning even that their private areas look very much like that of a humans. And just like with humans, it’s considered public indecency for Machoke (and many other very Human-shaped Pokemon) to walk around in the nude.

Unlike their clothing, the Power belts are not ordinary items that can be bought readily at a local Poke'mart.
they need to be specially made for the particular Pokemon’s body shape and power levels, especially since no two Machoke share the exact same power. It is encouraged to trainers of these Pokemon to visit their local Center and have Nurse Joy check the exact measurements of the Machoke’s body as well as how powerful the Pokemon is with a few heavy exercises and other tests (doing this kind of thing on your own is not recommended and can be very dangerous).

The nurse will then get back to the trainer with all of the information she collected from her tests with the Machoke, and the trainer will then contact the Silph Company and provide all of the needed information in order for them to make the belt that will best fit the Pokemon. until then, it is advised that trainers do not allow their Machoke to participate in battles until the belt is completed ( which can take about 2 weeks to make).

The standard clothing for Machoke are plain black shorts for males and black shorts and sports bras for females.
but this is not all that they can wear, of course. just like humans, each individual Machoke may have a particular style that they like.
some have been seen with jackets and hoodies, others will wear full baggy pants in different colors, and in rare cases with some females, some have even desired to wear skirts and ‘skorts’ similar to the female trainers!
it all depends on the Machoke’s tastes (and whether or not the trainer can afford the clothes the Pokemon wants or not!).

Besties (Request)

Hi! Can you do a fluff where harry x reader are bestfriends and reader is staying with harry for the weekend and harry is really excited, he loves the readers shampoo smell and wants to comb her hair after shower and smelling it? Thank you! :) - borderline-person

OMG do something about face masks with harry HAHA i think itd be cute


You weren’t sure if you had ever been more excited to see Harry. Sure, the two of you had gone months without seeing each other when he was away on tour, but he always made sure to text and call and video chat with you whenever he could. It had been different this time; Harry had been locked away on set somewhere in France with very little access to technology. It wasn’t because the Director was against cell phones; it was Harry being Harry and wanting to method act as much as possible. You had gotten a text that simply said, “Got here okay. About to head to set.”, and one that said, “I’m really enjoying this.” But, other than that, you had had no contact with him for the month or so that he had been filming.

Harry was your best friend; the duck to your goose (also your nicknames for each other.) The two of you had known each other since you were seven, and had been inseparable since then.  You had gone through a lot together; a lot of friendships wouldn’t have survived one half of them jumping into stardom like Harry did, but somehow you made it work. It probably had something to do with that fact that you were still a very stable and normal pillar in his life. You never looked at him like Harry Styles from One Direction. To you, he was always just Harry. You weren’t afraid to call him on his shit or bring his ass back down to earth whenever he started to get a little inflated. You told him like it was and he respected you enough to trust your judgement. It went both ways; Harry knew you better than anybody and made sure that he made his opinions about your life known. And, because you knew he had your best interests at heart, you trusted him implicitly.

Growing up, your families had always teased that one day the two of you would figure out you were in love and live happily ever after, but neither of you were overly worried about that. At this point, you had both seen each other in so many different scenarios of highs and lows that there were no secrets. Several years back you had sat down and had a very serious conversation about whether or not there were any hidden feelings involved and had come to the conclusion that there weren’t. You both were also fairly certain that you wouldn’t make a very good couple. Sure, there was flirting that went on and the two of you were super close, but there were also red flags for both of you that indicated there would likely be a lot of personality clashes if the two of you were to ever actually date. So, you were both perfectly content being best friends and having no history or chance of awkwardness or heartbreak.

And now, he was home again. The first thing the two of you had decided once he finished filming was that you needed a weekend together. Two or three days away from everyone and everything else to catch up, hang out and talk about how everything had gone over the last month. So now you stood, outside Harry’s London flat, anxiously awaiting him to open the door and let you in.

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