i also tried to do something different than usual with this edit did you notice

Reggie Mantle x Reader - Loners

anonymous asked:

Can you do a Reggie imagine that’s just a lot of fluff? Please and thank you!

Reggie Mantle x reader


Word Count: 3,039

There you sat, looking across the quad. He never seemed to really be enthralled in conversations at his table. Always looked like he had other things on his mind. Maybe he followed the herd, but there always seemed more to him. There was more to Reggie Mantle.

Your back was against a tree, slowly picking at your lunch while reading a book. Your continuous lunchtime routine. It was easier to not have friends. No drama, no worries about being something you weren’t. Lonely maybe but it could have been worse. You were just too different for most people, you felt older in a way. As if you knew that there was much more than typical high school drama waiting for you in years to come. While others, like Chuck - who sat beside Reggie, thrived on their high school experience, you looked forward to a life of your own beyond the one with your family. The family that didn’t really feel like one.

You heard a giggle. Your eyes drew to another table. A table filled with friends and lovers who seemed to have it all together. A friendly blonde with a brutish outsider and a red head football star with a raven haired city girl. While you wondered what it would be like to have that, someone to get you, you figured that you weren’t one to be noticed.

You read a few more pages until you heard Chuck making remarks to Cheryl as she passed by. You saw Reggie’s face - it seemed a little mad in a way. That he didn’t reciprocate Chuck’s approach to women. He tried looking away and caught your eye. You gave a breath and went back to your book. No, there was nothing to look forward to besides the future.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

RFA/V/Saeran + An MC who has money and likes to spoil them? Sometimes it's normal gifts like jewelry or clothes, and sometimes MC's like, “I bought you a car.” ( Or something else ridiculously expensive for the ones who don't drive. )

“the ones who don’t drive”
*cough cough* Jumin Han *cough cough*
I wish I was rich so I could spoil the RFA

-Honestly, slightly jealous that you’re as rich as Jumin.
-You buy him all the new games he wants along with expansion packs or DLC bundles too. You also help pay for college textbooks and other college expenses.
-He’s always extremely flustered when you buy him expensive things.
-He often times tries to deny your gifts and it hurts your feelings.
-“…Do you not like it?”
-Your pouty face is his weakness.
-“What? Nonononono that’s not what I meant! It’s just such an expensive gift, I don’t feel worthy.”
-After convincing, and hating seeing you get sad, he becomes more comfortable.
-Instead of denying your presents, he accepts them and thanks you endlessly.
-You bought him a new game console once and he SCREAMED. Even tho he mostly plays PC shhhhh
-The only words you hear are “thank you” for weeks.
-He’s embarrassed when you spoil him but he really appreciates that you buy him such nice things “just because”.

-He was put off by the fact that you were rich just like Mr. Trust Fund Kid.
-But when he got to know you as a person, he learned that you were much different from Jumin.
-When you start dating, you always pay for dinner when you eat out. It kind of bums him because he wants to be a gentleman but you are very determined to pay for every date.
-You also stock his kitchen with food because he survived off of beer, water, and cigarettes before he met you.
-Bad Zen.
-But then, you start giving him really expensive presents.
-“Oh yeah, honey, I bought you a new motorcycle.”
-“YoU WHAT?!”
-“…I bought you a motorcycle?”
-You give him tons of expensive gifts and he’s very flustered. He’s not materialistic, but he treasures everything you get him.
-He does feel guilty for letting you spoil him so he likes to spoil you too, just typically not with expensive things. He can’t afford that. More like he spoils you with attention and affection and you ain’t even mad.

-She was disheartened when she first heard you were rich because she assumed you were a slave owner like Jumin.
-But when she actually started talking to you, she loved you.
-You weren’t a slave owner, you were just wealthy. Your money didn’t make you a snob like she stereotyped.
-She apologizes for assuming so much about you too.
-You buy her so much jewelry she runs out of places to keep it all.
-You easily solve that issue by buying more jewelry boxes to keep them in lol
-Even if they are store-bought, they always feel special when you give it to her.
-She was shocked that you wanted to buy her so many things.
-And you always say “cuz I love you, duh” when she asks you why.
-She thanks you over and over again for everything you give her and likes to give you things too.
-She buys you little things like your favorite snacks or anything within her price range she sees catch your eye while you’re shopping.
-Buy her a new coffee maker or special edition Zen DVDs and she will cry so many happy tears.

-Don’t buy him a car.
-He will destroy it.
-“Love, you really don’t need to buy me a new suit. I have plenty, plus I could pay for it myself, you know.”
-You can’t give him presents. He doesn’t allow it.
-He always uses the “I could just pay for it myself, it’s not necessary” excuse.
-But you really want to spoil him and buy him things to show him you love him.
-He eventually catches on and notices how sad you get when he denies your gifts.
-Instead of asking you about it, he starts accepting your gifts and giving you some in return.
-Did you really think he’d let you spoil him without getting the same treatment?
-It turns into you trying to one-up each other.
-You got me a car? Well I got you a yacht.
-jk you guys aren’t that crazy
-It’s much more reasonable items like jewelry and clothes, but still, it’s competitive.
-Both of you calm down from the competitiveness though and just buy each other small things on occasion when it catches your eye.

-Buy him a car.
-He has like 50 already but his eyes light up every time you get him one.
-He has a large amount of money to his name too.
-However he still eats like a poor man.
-You buy him healthier, better food other than chips and soda.
-So basically even though he has a lot of money, he spends it on various other things, so you spend your money on his health and wellbeing.
-Like food and nice clothes.
-This boy seriously neglects his own health so you’re doing him a lot of good.
-You spoil him with those kinds of things. You dote on him.
-You make sure he gets three healthy meals a day and you usually let him have snacks and dessert too because it makes him happy.
-He calls you motherly because of it, but he really does appreciate how much you care about him.
-He rewards you in kisses, and also tends to make you presents in return.

-He grew up with a rich family in a rich neighborhood, so wealth wasn’t unheard of.
-Being rich doesn’t make you snobby or rude. V is actually a great example of that fact.
-Anyway, he knows that money doesn’t make you inherently bad.
-No judgement.
-He is very surprised when you buy him expensive presents.
-“Jihyun~ I bought you that new camera you’ve been wanting~”
-Being the kind of person he is, he doesn’t feel like he deserves such lovely gifts, but you do not take no for an answer.
-So in the end, he accepts your kindness and will give you many thank yous in return.
-He’ll give you thank you gifts too. They’re typically small and from the heart. Very thoughtful.
-V will insist you don’t need to buy him so many expensive things, but you spoil him anyway.
-Since he can’t change your mind, he just settles for trying to spoil you too. Usually with kindness.

-He’s impartial to money.
-It’s not important. It’s just needed to survive so you should at least have enough to meet basic needs, but he doesn’t think about money.
-You being rich doesn’t really faze him.
-He is confused and surprised when you start buying him expensive presents.
-You buy him everything he ever says he wants.
-Games? Got it. Ice cream? Got it. New clothes? Got it.
-He’s not sure how to respond and he’s very confused.
-It’s the first time someone ever bought things especially for him and took care of him. It’s very new to him.
-He really appreciates it because you put a lot of effort into spoiling him. It must mean you care a lot about him, right?
-He wants to return the favor, but he doesn’t really have the resources.
-He just thanks you a million times when you buy him things, especially if they’re ridiculously pricey.
-He feels so loved because of it.
-So loved ^w^

Yours Forever, A. Hamilton

The Founding Fathers are some of the most well known people of history, and as such, much is known about their lives, both public and personal; however, there is still much that remains shrouded in mystery. Take, for example, Alexander Hamilton. The first Secretary of the Treasury, although he left behind several thousand letters, was a very private person who revealed his innermost thoughts to a select few. Among Hamilton’s closest relationships were his wife, Elizabeth, and a fellow soldier in the Revolutionary War, John Laurens. Hamilton’s relationship with Laurens was uncommonly close (biographer James T. Flexner went so far as to suggest homoerotic), and as such, has long been subject to scrutiny by his biographers, although few have dared to give a definitive verdict on the subject of his sexuality (Chernow 95). But, based on extensive analysis of his letters, as well as his biographer’s interpretations and the societal norms of the day, it is possible to ostensibly conclude that Alexander Hamilton was bisexual, a fact which should be acknowledged because of the long time erasure of queer people in history.

Perhaps the best pieces of evidence, and certainly the most numerous, are buried in Hamilton’s letters to Laurens. Written between the years 1779 and 1782, the letters showcase quite clearly the relationship between the two young men, mainly through florid language and innuendo. In one of the better known letters, Hamilton is relaying to Laurens his requirements for a wife, in order for Laurens to find a girl for him. “To excite their emulation, it will be necessary for you to give an account of the lover - his size, make, quality of mind and body… In drawing my picture you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I - - - - -”(Hamilton, A). While it seems that Hamilton is just giving instruction, the words that have been italicized for emphasis insinuate just how well Laurens knew Hamilton. The last five words of the paragraph have been censored, probably by the editor of Hamilton’s papers, his son John C. Hamilton, who wrote at the top of this letter “I must not publish the whole of this”(Hamilton, A). It is worth noting that in the next paragraph, Hamilton goes on to say “Do I want a wife? No - I have plagues enough…”(Hamilton, A).

Laurens was not an idle spectator to these letters, however. In December of 1779, he wrote to Hamilton, “…may you enjoy all the pleasure moral and physical which you promise yourself in winter quarters; and be as happy as you deserve”(Hamilton, A). After the April letter in 1779, the language in his letters becomes more affectionate than in those previous. The pair seemed to become even closer as the war progressed, even though Hamilton married Eliza Schuyler, daughter of General Philip Schuyler (Chernow 137). Hamilton’s letter in September of 1780 invites Laurens to his wedding, writing, “I wish you were at liberty to to transgress the bounds of Pensylvania. I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation. My mistress is a good girl…; but mind, she loves you a l’americaine [American style], not a la françoise [French style]” (Hamilton, A). Although there is some leeway in interpretation, it quite clear that Hamilton was inviting Laurens not only to his wedding, but to his wedding night. These letters, and many others, are prime examples of the two’s clearly intimate relationship. It should be said that the only other person Hamilton wrote very intimately with was his wife, Eliza.

It is important, when analyzing a figure from history, to look at what many different biographers have to say about him or her. As previously stated, most of Hamilton’s biographers have given very vague mentions to his sexuality, or have steered away from it all together. Ron Chernow, author of Alexander Hamilton, gives the following statement: “In the late spring of 1777, Hamilton began the most intimate friendship of his life, with an elegant, blue-eyed young officer named John Laurens, who formally joined Washington’s [military] family in October”(Chernow 94). Chernow is one of the few biographers to dig slightly deeper into the Hamilton-Laurens relationship. In his opinion, at the very least, Hamilton developed an “adolescent crush” on Laurens (Chernow 95). In his work on Hamilton, John C. Miller takes the opposite stance, saying that their relationship was not unusual in their day. In fact, it was rather common, with higher class young men writing to each other “in the high flown literary language of the day” (Miller 22). He cites a letter from John Laurens to another Washington aide Richard Meade, in which Laurens closes the letter, “My friendship for you will burn with that pure flame which has kindled you your virtues” (Miller 22). While this flowery language was certainly common in their day, Hamilton and Laurens’ letters are rife with innuendo and very personal greetings and nicknames.

Hamilton’s son, John C. Hamilton, edited his father’s papers for his own biography and also commented on Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship. “In the intercourse of these martial youths, who have been styled ‘the Knights of the Revolution,’ there was a deep fondness of friendship, which approached the tenderness of feminine attachment” (Hamilton, J 302). The word feminine has long been a bit of a societal euphemism for being gay (or at least attracted to men), and it is worth noting that Chernow comments on how often the word feminine was used to describe Hamilton (Chernow 95). Although most biographers have neglected to comment on the nature of Hamilton and Laurens’ friendship, those that have have made it quite clear that the two were a little more than friends. After John Laurens was killed in the Battle of the Combahee River in August 1782, Hamilton was noticeably devastated. Chernow closes a passage with, “After the death of John Laurens, Hamilton shut off some compartment of his emotions and never reopened it”(Chernow 173)

Of course, in any relationship, there are two parties. In regards to John Laurens, there is evidence to suggest that he was very likely gay. In a 1767 letter, his father Henry Laurens notes his complete lack of interest in girls, writing, “Master Jack is too closely wedded in his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny’s [girls] I would not have such a sound in his Ear, for a Crown; why drive the poor Dog, to do what Nature will irresistibly prompt him to be plagued with probability much too soon” (Laurens 359). His biographer, Gregory Massey, states that Laurens “reserved his primary emotional commitments for other men” (Massey 40 ). Even when he did get married, it was only to preserve Martha Manning’s honor, as she was pregnant by him at the time of their wedding, and he left soon after to sail to join the revolution (Massey 68). There is something to be said in the fact that both Hamilton and Laurens were very selective in whom they placed their trust, and that their major relationships were with other men (or, in Hamilton’s case, with a few women as well), which gives even more validity to their relationship.

Of course, their relationship would have had to have been very secretive. Neither were unfamiliar with “sodomy” - having relations with another man -, as general orders for the Continental Army on March 14, 1778 reference a court martial (military court) of a Lieutenant Enslin, who was tried and convicted for sodomy. He was dishonorably discharged on March 15th (“General Orders”). Enslin was lucky, as sodomy was considered a capital offence, for which the punishment was usually death; however, it was quite difficult to punish, mainly because the laws were so narrowly defined, or not defined at all. Indeed, some convictions were overturned, although these came much later, demonstrating the relative ineffectiveness of the laws (Painter). Still, maintaining their relationship would have been risky, but, as their letters show, they carried it out anyway.

“Despite as large circle of admirers, Hamilton did not form deep friendships easily and never again revealed his interior life to another man as he had to Laurens”(Chernow 173). Traditionally, queer people in history have been completely ignored, which has made the subject taboo. This is the case with Alexander Hamilton, who had an extremely close relationship with both his wife and with John Laurens. Hamilton is known as the man who created America’s financial system, and the man who died in a duel with Aaron Burr, but his sexuality should not be left out of his description. His affections for Laurens were matched only by those for his wife, as shown through his letters. Hamilton’s sexuality now cannot be left up to question, and he should be remembered as not only the father of the American financial system, but also as a bisexual man. It is important to recognize that queer people are not a recent phenomenon, and they should not be relegated to the footnotes of history.


So this is the essay that I got an A on in English class my dudes. Enjoy. If you need a list of sources, I’ve got it

Normal Day

This week’s WWM Flash Ficlet prompt was:

Today is like any normal day. Except you keep seeing the same stranger at random times and every where you see them, little things begin to change.

I’m barely scooting in under the wire, but all my editing time got eaten this week.


Cas doesn’t think about it too hard when there’s a stranger in his usual seat on the bus. It’s late July and all the college kids are moving back to town, some changeover can be expected in his morning commute. But he’s also uncaffeinated, so it’s not worth fussing over. Cas claims a seat closer to the back, plugs his headphones in, and goes back to ignoring his fellow passengers.

Or he tries to. The stranger stares at him the entire ride from his apartment complex to campus. It would feel creepy if Cas wasn’t also contending with a hangover washing over him as the bus moves. Briefly, he wonders if he’s coming down sick, a single beer with a burger and fries shouldn’t give him a hangover, and even if it did… He woke up this morning feeling fine. But then, his hand is aching, throbbing in time with the pounding in his head. Maybe he had more to drink than he remembers, or finally accepted his downstairs neighbor’s invitation to come relax.

There’s a flash when the bus pulls up to his stop, sunlight glinting off of a windshield, that briefly dazzles him. The fabric on the seat where the stranger sat is different when he glances at it, trying to get his eyes to refocus, wood instead of garish blue. But then it looks normal after his eyes flick away for a moment.

Keep reading

The Stolen Gems [Thranduil/Bard] [Rated: Explicit] Chapter 01

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters. I am making no money off of this.

Author’s Note: Alternate universe with modern day setting fic. First attempt at a Barduil fic too (well, publicly anyway). Sorry if it sucks. Sexy time won’t happen until the final chapter, so I hope you like the “mystery” as much as the sex.

For @themirkyking

The Stolen Gems

By MoonofMorrigan

Chapter One

Work had been slow of late for Bard. His last case, a simple one of a cheating husband took all of 3 days to close. They were often that way anymore. Occasionally he would encounter someone who asked him to investigate something radical like a missing person, or a stolen object that they preferred to not inform the police about, but it was very rare.

He had worked his way through school for this by using his skills on the docks. The labor was hard, but at least it was always busy. He threw another dart at the dartboard which hung on the door in front of him. It landed straight in the center. Bullseye!

He sat back and closed his eyes and began to dose off when his company phone rang jolting him awake. It rang 2 more times before he picked it up, and on the other end was a deep, masculine tenor of a voice.

“Mr. Bowman?”

“Yes, this is he. Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I wish for you to investigate some stolen property for me. Are you able to make arrangements to come to my office tonight after 9 p.m.?”, the man on the other end inquired.

Bard frowned. That was well passed closing shop for him.

“I assure you, it will be worth your while.” the man continued no doubt noticing the silent pause.

“Very well,” he answered briskly, his interest slightly peaked. At least it wasn’t another cheating spouse or significant other, “but who may I ask will I be meeting, and where is your office?”

“My apologies,” the man on the other line paused before answering, clearing his throat, “Thranduil Oropherion. My office is downtown in the…”

“Mirkwood Industries?” Bard cut him off unintentionally once he heard the man’s name.

Another pause. “Yes. My office is on the top floor. I’ll tell security to let you in.”

“Su-sure.” Bard stammered, “I’ll be there at 9 sharp.”

“Thank you. I look forward to our meeting.”

The line went dead a moment later. Bard was still holding the earpiece up to his ear when the beeping sound began. He put it down on the receiver with a look of wonder. Mirkwood Industries? Not just someone in the company either, but the owner, CEO, Chairman of the Board Thranduil Oropherion wanted to meet with him at that.  The company owned half of the city basically. If he played this right, the commission would be huge!

Bard made arrangements for his babysitter to stay a little later so he could meet with this Mr. Oropherion. But when he found himself parking in the company’s garage and being buzzed in by the security officer a feeling of nervous dread intermingled with excitement found it’s way into the pit of his stomach. It only increased when once inside the building with it’s polished to the point of being able to see his face in it floors, elevators and at times walls themselves. He was met by a rather tall, dark-haired man who greeted him, and told him his name was Elrond.

He led Bard to an elevator that could only be found after walking through a dizzying amount of hallways, which immediately opened. He explained that it was one of only four that led to Mr. Oropherion’s office on the top floor.

Bard gave the man a wide-eyed, questioning look at this. Elrond then explained that it was for security purposes. Bard nodded then looked ahead of him, wishing at once that he didn’t. It was one of those glass elevators that looked out over the city. The office they were going to was 26 floors up. He turned away feeling nauseous.

“Do you have a problem with heights Mr. Bowman?” inquired the man beside him.

Bard looked up expecting to see a sadistically amused smile on his face, but only seen a creased brow that seemed to convey curiosity more than concern or mocking.

“Only in situations such as this…”, he paused and turned around to face the doors instead of the world below him. “When the world is in motion as the height climbs, that is.”

Elrond merely nodded in understanding, and a couple moments later the bell pinged on the 26th floor and the silver doors opened. Bard stepped out into a lobby or waiting room of sorts, with a large, sleek desk situated just before a set of frosted glass doors and a silvery steel door situated just a few feet away from the desk. The occupant of the desk had long since gone home, and the lights in the room itself was dim. At the corner of the glass doors sat a secuirty guard. He briefly looked up, nodded at Elrond, gave Bard a look over, and went back to browsing through whatever it was he was looking at on his phone.

Elrond strode to the door without hardly making any sound at all on the hardwood floor, and knocked. Bard followed looking down at the dark wood. Who puts hardwood floor on an office level building Bard mused. Then considered who he was about to meet. Someone with too much money, who liked to show off. Bard had never set eyes on Thranduil Oropherion. He was considered eccentric, recluse to an extent. The last picture taken of him had been at his wife’s funeral over 10 years ago.  Bard tried to conjure up the image of the man in the newspaper. All he could remember was blond hair, and from what he remembered the man was fairly good looking. But beyond that he couldn’t recall anything else.

He’s probably some old, fat, bitter, ugly business man now with thinning hair, Bard thought to himself just before the door opened. He gasped in as much shock as surprise. Surprise by the door suddenly opening during his reverie. Shock however, was due to something entirely different. The man before him was literally beautiful. He could only tell it was a man by the broad shoulders and stronger lines of his face and body. His hair was a shock of nearly white blond. For a moment Bard was literally speechless. He managed to pull himself together a moment later.

“I’m Bard Bowman. Mr. Oropherion asked to me to meet him here.”

The man looked him up and down, cocked his head to the side with a slight upturn coming to his lips, and gestured for him to come in. Bard edged himself inside the door, expecting Elrond to follow, but instead when he looked behind him, Elrond was walking away and the door was shutting. Bard came to the middle of the room and looked around. No one else was here but him and the other man, and the room itself was not only perfectly clean, very efficient and business looking, but also very cold feeling. This room conveyed no sense of warmth. It was a place of business, and business only.  He did spot a wine and liqueur bar off to the far wall, a couple of personal items in view, pictures mostly, but nothing more than that. The desk was just as large as the secretary’s, with a two monitor system computer, that he noted was not only the latest edition, but powerful enough to hack into a government website if the person wanted to.

The man approached him and held out a hand, “I am Thranduil Oropherion. Forgive me, it’s been a very stressful day.”

Bard recognized the voice, and took the hand in his. He noted it was callused and rough like a laborer’s hand would be, or someone who at the very least indulged in something that required lifting and lots of use of hand work.  He also couldn’t help noticing how tall he was at this point. Bard only came up to his chin.

“It’s quite alright.”  He made an open gesture. “How can I help you?”

The tall man grinned. “Right into business then? I like that.” He gestured to a set of leather chairs sitting in front of the huge desk, “Please have a seat.” He walked over to the stand where the alcohol lay out, “Would you care for a drink?”

Bard almost didn’t register the question at first as he was too busy noticing the long, low ponytail of white-gold hair that the man had which reached to his waist, not to mention, he couldn’t help noticing the man’s very taut ass.  Bard was bi-sexual, and while he tended to go for women more than men, this guy was sending his senses off the chart.

“Ah… um, no. I’m driving tonight.”

Thranduil proceeded to put some ice in a glass, and pour a large glass of what looked to be scotch in it, before turning and coming to his seat. He sat after putting the glass down, and looked across the desk at Bard as he crossed one leg over the other.  

“As I mentioned over the phone this afternoon, I had some property stolen.”

Bard opened his mouth to give the usual speech about alerting the police, but the man put a hand up to silence him.

“I know what you’re about to advise. Contact the police, let them make a report. Perhaps I’ll get it back in one piece someday, yes?” His eyebrows came up in mock inquiry. Bard only nodded, then sat back in his chair to listen to the man’s explanation as to why he didn’t want to. “You see, the problem here is not that I do not know who took it. I just need to why, and who has it now. Of course, I’d like to see it returned, but if not, considering the circumstances…” The blond haired man trailed off and took a drink of his whiskey.

Bard gave the man a puzzled look before he asked, “Who do you believe has stolen it then Mr. Oropherion? And more to the point what was stolen?”

The man’s blue-gray eyes narrowed for a moment at the question. Then he got up once more and walked to a wall opposite him. He clicked on a button that was all but hidden save an almost invisible line, and it swung forward to reveal a safe. The man keyed in the combination, and opened it. He took out a picture, and presented it to Bard.

Bard studied it. It was a necklace of diamonds and pearls. An exquisite thing that any woman would want about their neck.

“This was the necklace my late wife wore on our wedding day. It is worth roughly five million dollars.” Bard nearly dropped the photograph, as he looked up at the man in shock, “I keep it in this safe.” He pointed to the safe behind him, and continued, “I check it’s contents daily. This morning I found the necklace gone.”

Bard hesitated before daring to ask his question. “Who do you think has taken it? How many people have access to the safe?”

Thranduil looked away, closing his eyes and sighing heavily. His hands fidgeted for a moment at his sides before he walked back over to his desk and sat down. He took another sip of his liqueur before answering, “Counting yourself, there are only four people in this world that have any knowledge of the safe’s existence. The first of course is myself, you, the contractor who designed the area for it to be placed in, and hidden… and finally… my son.” The man bit his lip and closed his eyes with a shake of his head. When he opened them he took another sip of his beverage, and turned his eyes on Bard.

Duty was intermingling with attraction at this point, and the attraction was dulling his senses. He shook it off. “You believe,” he paused for second, shifted in his seat before he looked at Thranduil with a furrowed brow, “that your son may have taken it?”

“Bluntly put, yes, I do.” Thranduil answered sitting back in his chair, drink in hand.

Bard shook his head. His son? “What reason do you possibly think he could have to do it?”

Thranduil shrugged. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to hire you, and also considering who it is that I suspect has done it, you understand why I do not want to involve the police.”

Bard’s head was nodding in understanding and agreement at this thought. “Have you confronted him about it? Gotten any possible ideas what he did with it?”

“Yes, and no.” Thranduil drained the last of the amber liquid from the glass and set it down on the desk. “I have confronted him. He denies it of course, but I know he is lying. A father can always tell when his son is lying. But because he is denying it, I have no idea what he did with it, or why he took it in the first place.”

Bard hung his head and blinked several times as he thought. This is going a whole lot of no where very fast! He unconsciously made a hopeless gesture.

Thranduil sighed heavily, “I know it’s not much to go on. Nothing really. But I assure you money is no object, and whatever you require, I will be more than happy to provide. While the necklace is precious to me, as it was my wife’s, my son is more so. I fear… he may have gotten involved with some rather less than auspicious groups of people.”

Bard’s face contorted into a look of concern. Was this man eluding to mafia connections? The blond merely stared at him silently. There was a pleading in those eyes, and the lips had become a thin line as he watched Bard’s reactions.

“I can not guarantee results Mr Oropherion. I am by no means a top investigator in this city. “ He hated to say his next words, but he felt he should, “Perhaps I am not the best person to ask to take on this case sir. I…” He looked around him suddenly embarrassed.  “I am not sure I will be able to handle anything like this. I have a family, and I can’t afford anything… unsavory to happen to me, if you understand my meaning sir. I’m all my kids got.”

He watched Thranduil look away, then back again. He was considering something. He eyed Bard and got up with his glass, and went back over to the table, pouring himself another glassful.

“Actually, I think I have the perfect man for the job then,” Thranduil said, before he turned around giving Bard a pointed look. “You understand my plight more than anyone.” He crossed the room again, but remained standing. He put the glass on the desk and bent forward becoming eye level with Bard. “I had you checked out before I called you. I know you’re the right person for this job Mr. Bowman.”

Bard’s eyes went wide for a moment and he felt his mouth open in astonishment. He forced himself to snap out of and force his expression into a neutral one. “You had me investigated before you called me?”

“Of course. But I can’t have just anyone coming in here to discuss family business with. Not to mention the location of my more precious belongings.” Thranduil’s eyes flickered over to the safe for a moment then back to Bard. “Take the case, Mr. Bowman. I will make sure your children are well cared for while you are on it.”

Bard felt like he would be pinned to the ground by the intensity of the stare Thranduil was giving him. He nodded and in a quiet voice said, “Alright, when would you like me to begin?”

Thranduil stood back up to his full height as he considered the dark-haired man before him.  He  was slightly shorter than him, streaks of white were beginning to thread their way through a head full of soft black curls. His face had a well groomed thin mustache, soul patch and chin beard.  He was dressed in a dark, navy suit, the tie just a shade lighter than the suit. The shirt appeared to have the slightest hint of navy blue stitches sewn into the fabric.  The shoes, black and slightly scuffed on the sides were still polished and shiny. While most wouldn’t think too much of this, Thranduil did.  By caring how he looked, he obviously cared how his clients viewed him. The suit was not tailor-made or name brand, which made no difference to Thranduil, he knew this man couldn’t afford anything of that nature, but his grooming and dress was definitely well cared for.

“Tomorrow, if possible. As for where, I was hoping you would have an idea of where you should begin to be honest,” Thranduil commented, sat back down, gathered his drink in his hands, and leaned back in his seat once more releasing the man from his gaze. He couldn’t help noting their soft brown color, and wondered briefly if his eyes were perhaps hazel. He was actually very pleasing to look at. Thranduil was the type of person who didn’t pay much attention to gender, as much as the individual themselves, albeit friendship or even more intimately. The person needed to strike a cord with him. This humble, dark-haired man who seemed a great deal more exhausted and worried than most individuals would notice, managed to do that.

“Fair enough,” he nodded in understanding, “I suppose I should first exam the case you kept the necklace in, then I’d like to speak to your son at the earliest convenient time,” Bard replied softly with a furrowed brow as he seemed to be thinking aloud. He turned to look at the open safe.

“Of course,” Thranduil gestured to the wall safe, “be my guest.”

He watched as the man stood, and stretched his legs, without trying to make it seem like he had done so,  then crossed the room to the safe. He watched him rummage about in it, then lift out of the steel case he kept the velvet covered box that had housed the necklace since he had given it to his wife on their wedding day to wear. He opened it, he was able to see the man was taking in the outlines the necklace had made over the years on the velvet inside it. He looked up at Thranduil thoughtfully for a moment, closed the box and returned it, took a brief glance around at the rest of the contents and then, returned to the seat he had been in before.

He pulled out a notebook and shortened ballpoint pen from him pocket, clicked the pen, and sat down.  “Also, I don’t mean to give you the wrong impression, but I do have to ask where you were, and what you did between last night and this morning.

Thranduil let out a bark of laughter at this, then gathering his senses he stated still with some mirth in his voice, “Of course! You can’t rule me out just because I own the thing.” He let his smile fade, but was still amused by this, “I was home – alone of course, except for the maid.  She left at 9:30 last night I believe. After that, not a soul can vouch for me aside from the security guards here.” He made an open gesture to his surroundings, and drained his scotch again.

“Of… of course,” Bard stammered looking away in thought.

Thranduil watched him silently. The other man sat before him several minutes without speaking, making notes every now and then. Finally, he looked up. “My apologies, I prefer to make my immediate notes in cases like this in the place of crime. That way it’s still fresh in my mind.”

Thranduil nodded, “Perfectly understandable. “

“You mentioned the security guards would know who would come in and out of here at all times, correct?”

Thranduil nodded again as he confirmed it, “If the ones at the front doors miss it for whatever reason, there are still security cameras everywhere.” He pointed to an area behind them where a black security camera hung just low enough to be seen. Bard noted it and made another sentence in his notebook, then shifted to put the notebook back in his pocket.

“So, it’s reasonable to think that you basically caught your son on the cameras taking the necklace?” Bard asked with a considerate tone of voice.

“Yes, it is. In fact,” Thranduil bent down and pulled open the bottom door to his desk, and brought out the dvd he had the security team make of the night before, “the security footage is right here.” He held it up, laid it on the desk and slid it across to Bard. He was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check over this.

Bard shrugged as he took it up and turned it over in his hands before looking back up at Thranduil, “Well, you did say you knew who did it.”

“Yes,” Thranduil looked down, deciding to let some of his concern actually show, “I will not be pressing charges. I just need to know why he did it. Who has it now, and of course, if it can be returned. Please, understand, it’s not that I don’t think he should have punishment over this, but prison over stealing something that he could have just taken if he asked, is another. The necklace is as much his, as it is mine. He is my only son. My only child in fact.” He looked back up at the man who was returning it with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sure you understand.”

Bard didn’t give a verbal answer. He only broke eye contact and nodded turning the DVD over in his hands once more.  Finally, Bard looked up at him as they had sat in silence for several tense moments.  “Well, I think I have everything I need to get started.”

Thranduil let his practiced, public smile come to his face, “Very good. Will you wish to speak to my son here or at our residence?” as he stood and began crossing the room with the other man.

Bard looked around. “Perhaps at home. It’s been my experience that kids talk easier if they are in a familiar environment. How old is your son by the way?” Bard asked as they walked to the door.

“Seventeen. You know, the perfect age to get in trouble – real trouble.” Thranduil opened the door for Bard, and seen him turn to look around once more.

“Yes, it is. Um, sorry, one last question. Elrond, I think is his name, mentioned there are four elevators that lead here. Where are they all?”

Thranduil walked into the lobby and pointed each one out. The one in the back was the one he took the most interest in, but made no comment regarding it. Thranduil knew why however, it was the only one Legolas could have come up to without being seen immediately by the security guard by the door. The video would confirm it.

“Everyone uses key cards to come in correct?” Bard asked as they returned to the main portion of the lobby.

“Yes, even Legolas. He also has a key to the safe box I keep the necklace in. He comes in to check the contents for me if I am unable.” Thranduil told him as they came to the elevator Bard originally came to the floor in.

“Okay, okay… those are the only things I can think of at this moment.” Thranduil smiled and took a business card from his suit pocket to hand to Bard, “Oh, your home address so that I can speak with your son in the morning.”

“Of course. May I borrow your pen?” Bard fished the pen out of his pocket, and handed it to him. Thranduil quickly scribbled the address on the back of another business card, and handed it and the pen to Bard. “The phone numbers I wrote on the back will ring directly to me.”

“Thank you. I’ll try to be at your house at 10 o'clock.Good night Mr. Oropherion.”

“Perfect.” The doors slid open to the elevator. “Please just call me Thranduil. Good night, Mr. Bowman.” The doors slid shut before the other man could reply.

anonymous asked:

While lots of cutscenes in TOZ seems clumsily executed I wouldn't call those particular elements plot holes. Tales of Zestiria is a game that ask the players to put the pieces together by themselves and a game that was meant to break general game patterns, like they did by making people think Alisha was the heroine to have the story destroy that possibility (yes I hardly think the promotion was a mistake) /1

For the Dezel backstory, I personally fail to understand how so many people were confused by it. Yes the sequence was weirdly executed but the informations were clear. Dezel says it himself, while he was happy for his companions he didn’t want their journey to end. Contradiction calls malevolence. His blessing became a curse. /2

 I agree the lack of backstory and motive for maltran is frustrating (though there is a little sidequest about her in lastonbell). But this is Sorey’s story we only see things from his point of view and he could not magically find all informations and go out of his way to search Maltran’s backstory. Malevolent people exists. You can’t know everyone stories and reasons. /3

Frustrating for a video game where villains tend to love explaining their tragic backstory while the party agonize on the floor but actually extremely realistic. And that what what TOZ was aiming for. Breaking games stereotypes. /4

About Michael now. I admit this one took me a moment to underdstand, he gave up on his mission as a shepherd, therefore probably didn’t think himself worthy to be included story in the book. /5

And finally Heldalf. Once again TOZ is the weird one of the saga, because that was its purpose. Breaking the saga rules to offer something different for the 20th tales anniversary. So yes Heldalf may feel absent and not quite the classical tales vilain but his treatment is coherent. Heldalf is a desperate lonely sad old man who did not became the main villain by choice. His actions are contradictory. /6

Either he gets in your way to taunt you in killing him finally putting him to peace and unleash the end of the word, either he tries to recruit Sorey to have a companion (thanks to Alisha’s dlc to clarify the obvious and making Rose, Lailah and Edna look dumb) But he can’t have a real one because of his curse. Certainly why he doesn’t seem to care for Symonne. If we look at Heldalf like that I find his absentee consistent. /7

He wasn’t supposed to become Sorey’s arch enemy and more screentime could have change his purpose in the story. I don’t mean to say Tales of Zestiria is a perfect game. A lot of things in it are frustrating. But if we try to look at it for what it was supposed to be a lot of choices make sense. Still frustrating, but coherent. /8

Answer behind cut to save a dash …

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Platonic My Ass - Tony Stark x Reader

Originally posted by duckbuttt

Words: 965
Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader
Featuring: most Avengers- it’s a stark party.
Warnings: drinking, hangovers, mentions of smut (but there was no actual smut written) and swearing. SEXUAL REFERENCES.
Requested: Nope and I’m kinda glad it wasn’t because this is hell
Authors Note: Tony Stark is cool just imagine this <- THIS IS WHAT I HAD WRITTEN AS AN AUTHORS NOTE WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA ACTUALLY POST IT LOL. LET’S LAUGH AT MY CRINGE WRITING. I kinda went in and tried to edit it a bit, so I hope it’s not THAT bad.

Masterlist. Request List.

You were lucky to have Tony Stark as one of your best friends. He would help you with your science projects, and you would help him with his. You did help him finalize the first official Iron Man suit- he promised you twelve percent of the credit.

And what was even better is that your friendship is truly platonic.

Well, most of the time.

It all dates back to a Tony Stark party. It was right after the Avengers had taken down yet another Hydra base- and you were there to help your friends celebrate. Plus, who doesn’t love a good excuse to drink?

When Tony throws a party, he usually has girls all over him. But he decided, that since you did so great on helping them with the mission, that he would talk with you the whole night. It had been a long while since you and Tony just had a normal talk over a drink or three. And that’s what you miss probably the most since he became Iron Man- but you’re also helping him help the world, so either way, at least something is good.

But this one specific party, for some reason, just got different. You were positive that you and Tony would just talk nonsense like best friends normally do, but since you both had seemed to have one too many drinks, your platonic friendship had taken a turn.

It wasn’t like either of you wanted to hook up with the other, it just, kind of, happened.

And neither of you were looking for relationships at the time either, which made it a little weirder the days that followed.

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Chef-d'œuvre | Prologue

Genre: Angst,Fluff | Photographer/Artist!AU
Lenght: +5K
Summary: Jungkook had everything in life: fame, money and people at his feet ready to every single command he would gave. But the only thing he wanted was you. But you were gone.

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

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Tiny!Dan and the iPad Piano App

Tiny!Dan and the iPad piano app

So I have this piano app on my iPad and it reminded me of tiny!dan

And so this was created!

This is another fluffy one so please enjoy!

Also @insanityplaysfics has also written some tiny!dan fics (v good smut, I aspire to write smut like that) so definitely check them out already if you haven’t yet (link here)

(but who am I kidding, you probably already have)


One thing that Dan misses about being tiny was that he couldn’t play his piano. Usually if he was having a late night existential crisis then Dan would sit in his room and play the piano to help him forget. But he was just too small. He could maybe hit about three or four different keys before getting bored and tired and it was always too slow anyway.

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Panicked Days (Simon Request)

(As this is quite a tough topic to convey, all signs of the anxiety in this are going to be taken from my personal experience with the mental illness so I’m sorry if this is different to what others of you have been through xx) You woke up in the comforting warmth of the sheets of your bed and stretched as you usually did in the morning. Though usually you would be stopped by a lanky frame beside you. Simon wasn’t there. The time read 12am meaning he should still be in bed.
His desk was empty, the monitors not even turned on. What was happening? You began to feel your chest hurting. A clear sign that you were beginning to get anxious.
Pushing the heel of your hand into the pain with no relief, you clamber out of bed and expect to be met with the boys loud yells from downstairs as soon as your door opens. No. There is silence.
Doing the usual rounds, you notice all of the other guys’ rooms are empty. The pain increased. Like a constant dagger. It wasn’t a pain that could be stopped with some painkillers. It would stop when you finally could calm down.
Your feet guided you down the carpeted steps until you realised that you were at the bottom and none of the rooms were occupied. Where were they?
A ridiculous thought pushed to the front of your mind. What if something bad had happened? Another sign. Thoughts that you would generally know wouldn’t be true became the forefront of your fear. And you couldn’t clear away the idea.
To any person looking in on your state, it was ridiculous. Maybe they had just gone out. Maybe they needed some stuff from the shop. Your first thought shouldn’t be that something awful had happened.
But it was.
And the pain increased, now combining with terribly consistent heart palpitations.
You grip onto the frame of the kitchen door and feel simple breathing getting harder and harder. It was like someone was squeezing your throat tighter and tighter and even air particles couldn’t push through. You began to wheeze, one hand holding your chest and the other still fighting to keep you from falling to the floor. Your mind was swirling, unstoppable tears building in your eyes.
And then the door clicked open and in walked four familiar men. Though their silhouettes were barely visible to you.
One, also known as your boyfriend, ran over to you and held you with two strong arms.
His words only mixed into your twirl of panic and became an incomplete puzzle.
And then words began to break through.
“Breathe. Breathe” He repeats and guides your hand to his chest, “When I breath you breath okay?”
You try your best to match what he was saying, his other hand coming to hold your face to look at him.
“In for three out for three okay?” He nods and begins to follow his own instructions
You began to comprehend what he was saying and tried to follow suit. In for three, out for three. 1…2…3. 1…2…3. And soon your panic began to fall.
“That’s it gorgeous” He smiles and he finally becomes visible, “Its okay”
You are still shaking and tears are still wetting your cheeks but you were calmer.
“Its alright, I’m here” He smiles again and wipes the pad of his thumb over your cheek, “Wanna head upstairs beautiful?”
You take another breath and nod and his arm holds your waist protectively, helping you to walk up to your shared room.
He sits you down on the bed and kisses your forehead, “I’m going to grab you some water okay?”
You nod again, still unable to say any words and still trying to focus on taking deep breaths.
As quickly as he had gone, Simon returns and sets the glass down on the side. He sits beside you and puts his arm around you, “Wanna talk about it?”
“I… I thought something had happened to you” You sniff and already feel ridiculous for saying it.
“Hey come on it’s alright. We just had a meeting about the book tour this morning that’s all. I didn’t want to disturb you” He explains and squeezes your arm again.
You look down, “Sorry”
“No no none of that” He shakes his head, “You don’t need to apologise okay?”
“Okay” You whisper and he cautiously turns your head to press his lips to yours, “I’m gonna go downstairs and raid the fridge for anything to eat and you just stay in bed okay? We’ll put on some Netflix and forget about editing for a bit”
“No babe you don’t have to” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sdmn jumper.
“Of course I do babygirl” He smiles and stands up, “you’re more important than editing. Way more important”
(This is a very hard topic to write about as it is something that affects different people in different ways. I hope any of you who do suffer with anxiety can take something away from this and be able to enjoy this imagine! Sorry if it isn’t what you hoped to read)

[English] Sou interview with Utattemita no Hon, January 2016

Sou was interviewed about his recent tours and new album for the January 2016 edition of the magazine Utattemita no Hon! Click here for the interview with Luz and Kradness from the same edition.

(Notes: -Questions from the interviewer are in bold
-This issue came out in December 2015 and the interview probably occurred some time before that, if some of the things he said in here regarding the timing of song recordings and such seemed kinda weird.)


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5SOS Preference- You're A Famous Youtuber and They Tweet You (request)

A/N: FINALLY POSTING THIS REQUESTED PREFERENCE! So sorry for the long wait, I’ve been incredibly busy. They didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted, but I think Ashton’s and Luke’s are the best. Hope you enjoy!

For Anon. 4/4.


“Okay, guys, today I’m going to do something a little bit different than the usual tutorial. You all know my standard eye shadow colors, and despite how many I’ve accumulated I always fail to stray from my usuals.”

            Luke settled into the chair at the hotel desk, turning up the sound on his phone a little bit. He was subscribed to you ever since your makeup channel was recommended on his account. Although he would never admit that he watched your videos to his friends or that he actually enjoyed them, he almost religiously checked for your newest upload.

            Speaking of things he’d never admit to, he kind of liked you. Who could blame him?  You were beautiful and he felt like he had actually gotten to know you because of the one-on-one style of your videos.

            He might have even made a separate twitter account to tweet you, ask questions when you did Q&A videos, and just try to get a response from you (of course he would never admit that either).

            After finishing your new look video, he left the following in the comments section:

            “Still can’t get over your penguin phone case.”

He chuckled a little at his foolishness and decided to watch the “Ask Y/N” video that he had missed because he couldn’t get away from the rest of the guys for long enough to watch it.

            He smiled at your frantic waving hello at the beginning of the video and laughed at some of your responses to the questions until he was almost done with it.

            “Now, I get a few of these tweets once in a while, but this one stood out especially,” you said, looking down at your phone to read the tweet.

            Luke tried to remember what he tweeted you when you announced you were going to do this particular Q&A video, but for the life of him he couldn’t.

            “This is from @PlaidLuke. He asks…” your voice trailed off as Luke gasped and squealed in a very un-manly way. He hurried to rewind the video and once again you looked at your phone.

            “He asks, ‘If we were to get married, would you want to have an Elvis Impersonator attend?” You slowly looked up at the camera and raise an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. Luke’s jaw dropped.

            You shook your head and chuckled again. “Well, if this is a proposal, than I accept, because you sound like quite the charmer.”

            You answered another question and then the end board was playing some cheery music with a display to your last two videos.

            Luke’s big hand clutched the phone tightly, and he still sat with his mouth hanging open from shock.

            “Oh my god.”

            Suddenly, the door opened and Calum walked in, setting down his bag with a loud thump.

            “You wouldn’t believe what this lady was yelling at me outside,” he grumbled, flopping onto one of the beds.

            Luke quickly placed his phone screen down on the table, and combed a hand through his hair, acting like nothing was going on. However, as Calum began ranting about what had happened, he couldn’t stop thinking of your smiling face when you called him ‘quite the charmer’.


You had been sticking to your schedule of putting up one video a week, whether it be of a cover, or a new song you wrote, or a music video you’d worked hard to create. But lately, you felt a little under pressure and more and more stressed. You opened YouTube and went to your channel to check the response on your latest video. With a gasp you noticed your subscriber count. 500,014 people were subscribed to your channel. Last time you checked you had 499,962! You stared at the computer screen for a second before you squealed and jumped out of your chair, dancing around your room.

            “Oh my god! Oh my god!”” 500,014 people liked your videos! They liked your singing, your songs, something about them! It was an amazing feeling and you couldn’t keep a smile off your face.

            You turned to twitter to announce your accomplishment and also your upcoming video. As soon as you got onto your page, you saw a bunch of tweets at you. A few in a row were from the same person.

            @Calum5SOS: @Y/T/N it’s great when artists get the recognition they deserve. Especially new talented singers/songwriters. ;)

            @Calum5SOS: @Y/T/N and btw, Congratulations on 500k subs!

            @Calum5SOS: @Y/T/N so cool to see your channel grow from the start. Your work is amazing, can’t wait for more!

You smiled at…‘Calum’s’ kindness, and you quickly sent him a big thank you. After a little clicking around on his page, you realized he was from his own band, and that made his tweets from a fellow music artist mean so much more.


Michael pulled the convers on his bed around himself, snuggling down to watch your latest upload of the week on his phone. He scrolled down his YouTube page until he found your video, but paused for a second when he did. The thumbnail picture was you, looking very serious and the video was titled “Girl’s Don’t Have Game?”

            His brow creased in confusion as he clicked on it, and he rubbed his face anxiously. The screen came to life and there you were, but instead of your usual gaming setup it was just you facing the camera.

            “Hey guys, hope you’re all doing well. Today’s video is going to be a bit different than normal if you hadn’t already noticed.”

            Michael didn’t like where this was going. Usually your videos always cheered him up because you were constantly laughing, and to him it was almost like hanging out with you when he watched a clip. But this video was just making him concerned. What was going on?

            “For a long time I’ve gotten comments and tweets saying ‘oh, you can’t play video games because you’re a girl,’ or ‘why would I watch your videos? You shouldn’t be doing these,’ or things like that. And usually I just brush it off.”

            As you continued, Michael felt himself getting more and more mad. Why would anyone ever say something like that?

            “But recently there’s just been an overflow of these types of things and they’re getting really harsh. So I’m just going to say,” you paused and looked straight into the camera, “obviously you’ve never watched my videos, or any of my friends videos, or even just stepped out your front door, because then you’d know you’re completely ridiculous.” You winked.

            Michael laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. You were always straightforward but that was one of his favorite things about you. For the rest of the video you played your old favorite game, LittleBigPlanet, and created a new level as a sort of tutorial on the controls. Once it was over, Michael immediately went to twitter. He still couldn’t believe how rude those people had been, and he needed to take it out somehow.

            @Michael5SOS: @Y /T/N those people are completely ridiculous just like you said. They’re just angry because you could kick their asses.

In about ten minutes, as Michael was falling asleep, his phone buzzed and he picked it up sleepily.

            @Y/T/N: @Michael5SOS thanks Michael ;) Glad to know you see it my way.

            For a moment Michaels mouth hung open with shock. “How does she know my name?” he wondered out loud. He didn’t realize until the next day that ‘Michael’ is in his twitter name.


You sighed, leaning back in the desk chair you always edited your videos in. The project you’d been working on for the past months hadn’t turned out exactly as you had wanted, and after spending hours editing it, that was not a happy conclusion to come to. However, you had nothing else to upload that week! You had already announced the release of your special new sketch, so you had to put it up, but you didn’t want to disappoint your growing number of viewers.

            You uploaded it despite your worries and walked away from the computer.


It was the next day, and as the time went on you could only think about the video and how people might hate it. You wouldn’t let yourself look on YouTube but you son found yourself on twitter. You cringed as tweets at you popped up. You noticed a few tweets from a username that you recognized: @Ashton5SOS. He had tweeted you before, and not just sweet compliments- he always had something funny and clever to say. Since discovering he was the drummer for an Australian band, you listened to some of their music and liked it enough that his tweets always made you feel like you were talking to a celebrity. You smiled to yourself as you read his latest message:

            @Ashton5SOS: @Y/T/N Loved your new vid! You never fail to make me laugh with your sketches. Keep it up!

You smiled wider and pressed ‘follow’ on his account.

            @Y/T/N: @Ashton5SOS Thanks for all your support! Love reading your tweets.

Soon your phone went off; it was another tweet from Ashton.

            @Ashton5SOS: @Y/T/N Dying because you followed me. Now I feel the need to impress you with my tweets…

You laughed. A few minutes later he tweeted again.

            @Ashton5SOS: I like bananas.

You just shook your head, feeling the stress over your latest video disappear with Ashton’s words.

Word Count: 3343

Genre: Angst

Summary: A little something to go along with Big Bang’s Cafe. I recommend listening to here before you read. [Unless you’re a veteran VIP. ;) ]

A/N: Wow I have so many things to say about this. 1. I have littered this with Big Bang references. I counted 8 if you can get them all. ;) 2.This is actually a Valentines Day present for my best friend @suzybang. <3 3. A huge thank you to @jinhyong for proof reading, the wife @banqtan-duh for editing, and of course my wonderful editor for editing / keeping me in line. :) You’re the best. 4. Lastly, tagging @hyongtae cause she asked and @hyongsuga because I need her to get my references. <3 

     With plush, wine colored velvet beneath your skin, you stretched your arms above you so that your head could rest against them, your last client having left several minutes ago. Your eyes flitted about the room, trying to purposefully avoid the ivory chair that stood across from your gaze. It had always entertained your thoughts that something so pure in color had anything to do with this room that you called your own, but now it seemed as though the simple piece of furniture mocked you from where it stood. The intricate designs that danced over the expanse of the fabric held its own secrets, threatening to flood your memories in colors much more vivid than its own.

     You had also found it humorous that you had never took much notice of your chair, and neither did your clients that came and went. You had never noticed it until he had strode into your room, tossing his jacket haphazardly across it’s back. He sank into that chair for the first time that night, and started a tradition that would continue every Tuesday for the next year.  It had surprised you that it somehow escaped the touch of all of your other clients, who paid for their time with you to press their heated flesh to yours in whatever way they desired.

     Except for him.

     You remembered when he walked through that door, sat down in that chair. The times you shared…

     Now you were certain it was the only thing left in this room that still smelled of him, since the night that he had left with a heartless silence.

     And here you were left waiting for him, in this little cafe.

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Age is Just a Number

Note: I wrote this a couple of days ago just a cute little oneshot. Not my best but I hope you all enjoy. Please leave me some feedback it fuels me! This was also not edited.

Owen took the ice pack out of the freezer in the attending lounge and moved over to the couch to ice the sore muscles aching through his body.

He began massaging his neck, trying to relax himself. He didn’t realize he had begun to drift into sleep when he heard Amelia come in laughing about something with Maggie. They hadn’t even noticed he had been resting there. That’s why you use on call rooms he thought to himself.

“Oh hey Hunt,” Maggie said loudly which did nothing for the throbbing he felt in his head.

He peeked his eyes open and noticed Maggie had her head buried in the fridge while Amelia was standing there taking in his appearance, concerned. He then closed his eyes and laid back again without even acknowledging them.

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, coming over and sitting beside him, reaching up to run her hand soothingly through his hair but he just pulled away from her, grumbling.

“Okay then,” Amelia said, standing and sitting at the nearby table to eat something since she hadn’t been able to since that morning when she had made pancakes for the both of them. She wondered what had transpired since then to put Owen in such a sour mood.

“What’s with him?” Maggie whispered but not quietly enough that Owen couldn’t hear her.

Wanting some peace and quiet he picked up his old tired self and trudged out of the lounge in search for a secluded on call room so maybe he could catch a couple minutes of sleep before another trauma came in.

“I’m not sure. He was in a really good mood this morning,” Amelia answered as she bit into an apple.

“I wonder why,” Maggie smirked at her.

Amelia couldn’t help but grin at Maggie’s comment because it was entirely true. She and Owen had a very amorous sex life and she never felt more vivacious. He had awakened something in her.

“There are no complaints from me,” Amelia said.

“At least it’s not put you in the hospital sex,” Maggie pointed out.

“Oh I think I’ve come pretty close to that. Owen knows what he’s doing for sure.”

“Well I would hope so. He has plenty of experience. Oh I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Maggie blurted out without thinking.

“What do you mean?” Amelia asked as she finished her apple and began to eat a granola bar for some protein.

“I just meant that he’s had many years of experience. Because he’s older than you, right? I mean like older older,” Maggie explained.

“He’s not that much older,” Amelia emphasized.

“Oh. My. God.” Maggie explained in her usual way.


“You don’t know how old he is.”

“What?” Amelia tried playing it off but it just proved that Amelia didn’t know how old he was. She knew he was older than her probably around Derek’s age or a little younger but it’s something they didn’t talk about. Truth be told they never spent that much time talking at all. It wasn’t something either of them ever thought to bring up.

“You don’t! How can you not know that?” Maggie asked as Amelia began to clean up the table so she could head back to work.

“Okay fine. I don’t know how old he is. But it doesn’t matter. Who cares about age anyway Ms. I’m banging a much younger intern.”


Amelia walked out and went in search of Owen. She knew he would have headed to an empty on call room.

She finally found him, attempting to sleep but he was just rolling around on the bed trying to get comfortable. She walked over and climbed next to him. He wrapped an arm around her as she laid her head on his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened today?” Amelia asked him.

“Nothing,” he lied and she could tell but she knew not to ever really push for him to tell her things. It never really ended well for them.

“How’s your neck?” Amelia asked. April had told her that they had needed to restrain a patient and then she had seen Owen massaging his neck and his back. “Kepner told me.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what happened. Must have just turned it the wrong way.”

“Oh poor baby,” she said and began to straddle him and kiss his neck.

“Amelia,” he said trying to push her away. “Can we just not?”

She pulled away and gave him a weird look. “What’s the matter?”
She asked crossing her arms and she wasn’t about to leave without getting some information out of him.

“Why do you want me?”

“Is this a serious question?” Amelia asked, smiling.

“Yes. Why do you want to be with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” She asked him.

“I hurt myself just turning my neck today. I’m not as young as I used to be and I know that, but you’re still in your prime. You should be with someone who can keep up with you.”

Amelia hopped off of Owens lap and began to pace the floor laughing at his obscurity.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“I’m sorry. But you are the most idiotic man I’ve ever met. Owen, lately you’ve been keeping me on my toes. I feel like I’m trying to keep up with you. That’s the first thing. Secondly, you’re not old. You’re still well into your prime my friend because I’m always fully satisfied. And third, age doesn’t matter to me.”

“It doesn’t?” He asked.

“Not in the slightest. So what if you’re 50?”

“50?!” He exclaimed.

“I’m kidding. Although I don’t know how old you are. And it really doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that I love spending time with you. We are good together no matter what age difference there is. And the sex? Oh my god.”

“Yeah?” He asked as she hoped back onto his lap.

“It gets better every time. Best I’ve ever had.”

“The best, huh?”

“Definitely,” she leaned down and captured his lips. “Now do you feel better?”

“Yeah except I’m really sure I won’t be able to move in the morning.”

“Oh, you’re such an old timer,” she laughed and he groaned.

“You’re making fun of me now?”

“You left yourself wide open there gramps.”

He laughed as they continued to kiss and they could both feel the heat coursing through their bodies.

In between kisses he began to say, “I don’t think I can tonight.”

“You can. There are other ways,” she winked at him.

She proceeded to undo his pants and although Owen didn’t have much mobility he didn’t need it this night.

When You Leave (M)

Summary: It’s been two years since you abruptly walked out of Dan’s life. What you don’t realize is you completely changed him. What happens when you finally decide to re-enter his life?

Pairings: Past!Reader x Dan

Warnings: Adult situations, language and smut.

Notes: After a month after posting the original, here’s the smut version! The reason why the smut portion took so long to write was because I had to literally do extensive research on the internet, take a look at fanfics, make notes and just… ugh. I did a lot to try to get the smut scene right as a first timer. So… please give me a break if some stuff sounds… awkward. I didn’t want the smut to be a, “Oh hey, let’s fuck already.” type of deal, considering the backstory. So… I tried to romanticize/make it classy as I could. >.<

Inspired By: This song and this scene from a game.

Request By: Anon (I am so sorry I took so long with this.)

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full package

summary: 3. Your cat keeps getting into my house and I don’t even know how would you care to explain but hey you’re hella hot AU. requested by  in-spirational.

word count: ~ 3,000

rating: g. unless you don’t like mild swearing

a/n: uh fluff inbound

It’s frustrating, realizing that every time she gets home from an exhausting day at chasing bail jumpers, she’s greeted with a damn cat asleep on her couch or in her bed, and she really does wonder how the hell that cat does it. Her window is never open, and her door is always locked, so the way this cat is getting into her house is really confused her.

Henry doesn’t even know how the cat’s getting inside, so that obviously means something.

Honestly, Emma knows who owns the cat. It’s her frustratingly hot, kind and cocky neighbour, Killian Jones, and she can’t do a single thing about it.

Every damn entrance is locked and closed, but it’s like that fucking cat is a professional ninja. Or robber.

His cat needs to stop breaking and entering her home. (Surely that’s somehow illegal, right?)

“Stupid cat,” she grumbles, throwing her keys on the table by the front door and kicking her heels off. She can hear the cat meowing somewhere, and probably in the kitchen.

Where the food is.

God damn it.

The cat is scratching at the cupboards, at least before she flicks the lights on. If only Henry wasn’t at this sleepover, otherwise he’d been home to return the cat. Though surprisingly, Killian’s cat is just a stubborn at that man can be, he really wonders if he’s rubbed off on the feline, considering how resilient he is.

Also, does that man have no sense of keeping his own pet in order? Like, does he not go searching for it?

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Broken Sequence - Barcode Au Pt. 1

So this is for strangelypaula. She asked for an Au based off this picture, and I was feeling braver than usual, so I typed this short little thing up. Also based off the picture is this awesome thing by fangirltothefullest.

Edit: Part 2 now available!!


A number.

That’s all I am. I’m just a series of lines that run along my wrist. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.

We all have codes. We get them at birth.

They say it’s who we are; what makes us special and unique. The code is our life. Anything and everything about us, is recorded on those little black lines. Our likes and dislikes, our hobbies, our fears.


I know my serial code by heart.


Most people don’t take the time to memorize them. I don’t really know why. I guess to them it doesn’t really matter. I can’t explain why it matters to me. I gaze at it every night as I lay on my bed. I feel like I have this special connection to those numbers on my wrist.

They’re my numbers.

No one else in the world has them.

And not many have a little star next to their numbers.

You’re given an asterisk shaped symbol to show that you’ve harmed yourself. It’s supposed to warn people to be cautious of what they say or do when around you. I guess it works. People are always careful of what they say around me. They all have this look in their eyes, like they feel sorry for me.

I think that because they feel sorry for me, they treat me differently than others who’ve harmed themselves. It’s like I’m a very special case; someone no longer capable of taking care of themselves.

I tried to kill myself almost a year ago. I had cut my wrists with a small razor and threw myself into a lake.

I intended on drowning.

Instead I was saved.

Whenever I stare at my bar code, I wish I had drowned that evening.

Now, I suffer from amnesia. It isn’t severe, but it’s not something that’s easy to deal with. There are these gaps in my memory. I can’t remember anything, no matter how hard I try. It’s like someone thoroughly erased those events from my brain. What drives me crazy the most is that I can’t even remember why I tried to kill myself.

No one will tell me why. They explain it’s out of concern that I’ll try to off myself again.

Honestly, it irritates the hell out of me.

 “We almost lost you Jack. We don’t want to almost lose you again.”

“Trust me; it’s for your own good Jack.”

“It’s better if you don’t know Jack.”

These are all excuses.

They treat me like I’m a child.

I’ve tried searching through my code, but nothing ever comes up. Anything related to the incident has been removed and replaced with blank data.

The Grid has it though. Those missing holes in my memory were uploaded directly to The Grid. No one has access to it though. Only those with A-6 clearance are allowed in, or so I’ve read off of the web.

The only time I ever feel like I’m going to get answers, is when I’m at school. I get this nagging feeling that it’s where it all started.

Unlike everyone else, I never show my bar code there. They wear theirs proudly or like it’s nothing. I hide mine behind an oversized watch with an equally oversized strap. I don’t want people who don’t know me to treat me differently.

And they don’t. Not even my friends treat me differently. I’m grateful for them treating me like everyone else. It makes me feel normal.

Except when I try to look at their bar codes. They swiftly hide them, and wait for me to give up before revealing them again.

But there’s this one boy at school who does something to me. He treats me differently. He has beautiful brown hair and these gorgeous green eyes. He’s slender and somewhat tall, with a killer smile.

Something about him seems familiar. I don’t know what though. I’ve heard his name before. Hiccup or Hamish, something like that.

I often catch him staring at me in the halls. He tries to be discreet, but I always notice. The moment our eyes make contact, he averts his gaze to something more interesting. I’ve tried to talk to him; ask him why he keeps looking at me. But he’s always gone before I get within ten feet of him.

It frustrates me.

Why doesn’t he want to talk? Did I do something to him in the past that I can’t remember? My code has nothing, so it couldn’t be that.

Whenever I see him, my head begins to hurt and I get this pain in my heart.

I feel like he has the answers.

I feel like he has something to do, with everything.