i forgot omg forgive me

For You / Ieyasu x MC

Week 2


Whenever she asked him questions about himself, he always felt something cold move across him, as if he were iced from the inside, his organs and nerves being protected by a sheath of frost. In that moment, though, when the words slipped past her lips, he thought he might break, that if he said anything the ice would shatter and he would splinter and crack. So he waited until his voice sounded normal before he let the words fly:

“No,” he sneered, “I don’t need you anymore tonight. Or any other night. Know your place, kitchen wench.”

She took a long time to respond. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, milord,” she said, quietly, and though he didn’t look at her, staring hard at his book, he had felt her eyes on him the whole way, bearing down and heavy, until the moment she passed through his door and melted into the night.

The problem was that she was greedy for information: she wanted to know how he had been raised, and if he had any siblings, and who his friends were, true friends, and whether he preferred one flavour over another. And sometimes the air grew so hot not only with the questions she was asking, but the manner in which they were asked — honest, guileless and a little too foolish for a cook from Kyoto — that he felt strangled by their weight and frequency and inevitability.

She wanted to know so much; she wanted so many answers. And he understood it, he did— he wanted answers, too. He wanted to know everything about her as well, but while she had made her intention as clear as an arrow’s twang, he couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate, in part because of who he was, who he was meant to be, but also because he wasn’t sure whether it was worth the endeavour. If she was worth the effort.

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les amis watching crappy horror movies at the theatre

Enjolras: thinks he will be perfectly fine, “c’mon guys, it’s just a movie” *rolls eyes*, but ends up white as a sheet, clutching the armrests and sweating, practically breaking all of the bones in Grantaire’s hand during the scary parts. denies all of this after

Combeferre: remains pretty calm throughout the entire thing until Courfeyrac reaches over and grabs him to freak him out and he jumps and ends up spilling pop all over himself

Courfeyrac: LOVES getting scared and shamelessly exaggerates all of his reactions

Grantaire: loves horror movies but spends most of the time watching Enjolras’s hilarious reactions and making fun of him while Enjolras tells him to fuck off under his breath

Feuilly: is not at all scared, nothing phases him, but annoys the others whispering trivia about the actors and the production throughout the whole thing

Jehan: all of the amis are watching them, expecting them to be super-scared, but they’re just chilling and having a great time and “why are you all staring at me?”

Joly: literally jumps out of his seat and screams whenever something scary happens and keeps getting shushed by the other people in the theatre

Bahorel: buys a hot dog and a huge bag of popcorn and has a great time

Bossuet: keeps laughing at parts that are supposed to be scary much to Musichetta’s annoyance, “but the effects are just so bad!”

Marius: literally refused to come, has not watched a scary movie in years because he has learned his lesson and will never sleep again if he does

Musichetta: knows all about make-up special effects and CGI and tries to pay attention to those but keeps getting distracted by Bossuet’s laughing and Joly’s screaming

Cosette: watches the entire thing with her hands over her eyes, peering through spaces between her fingers, yet is the only one other than Feuilly who manages to sleep soundly that night

Eponine: yells things at the screen like “why is everyone so white!?”, “of course the girl would die first!” and “you can see the boom mic for god’s sake!”


Just a follow up on the post I made earlier

Most of the people they’d met on their journey had probably never seen an Elf with their own eyes before, and I wondered if they’d freaked out when they saw Legolas. Maybe some of them kind of followed him around and he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without a group of people staring at him and he’d just be really uncomfortable and awkward sfdhjaglf

EDIT: Now with part 2!

Do you ever just sit there and list down all the exo members but then suddenly you realize you have forgotten one of them and youre just like




Hannibal - Forgiveness Valentine Cards
Settle your problems, end your quarrels, and forgive your partner this Valentines Day.

I wanted to finish these earlier but things happened so, here they are now, a day before said holiday. Also, who’s a clever poet? Not me because I write like poop. (゚ ヮ゚)

And just a side comment, I swear the day this show makes a really bright episode, I am going to cry. That is all.


Seal Sins Plushy!

This is for @reyairia, @slurpoof, @misakisartblog, @pearlsgay and everyone else responsible for creating Seal Sins. Seal bots are adorable and I spent most of today and yesterday altering a pattern and burning myself with hot glue to make this little plushy and I have no shame about that :D

EDIT: OMG and @darklordofcutlets I FORGOT YOU, FORGIVE ME  ( ̄ロ ̄;)

Originally posted by gifs-from-the-seaside-ca

Wash Out The Pain - Part II

Prompt: Could you maybe write a fic where Owen gets a phonecall that Amelia is in the bar (maybe from the bar tender?) and he goes to get her. Also, I remember reading someone would move in with Owen. I don’t think that’s happened yet. What if it’s Amelia?

Okay so I wanna say thank you to the Anon who prompted me this. Whoever you are, omg, I hope you’ve liked it. The ending though, well I tried to get as close as possible to it. Lol.

Oh and I did something horrible on the previous chapter. I forgot to name the song I quoted on Part I, omg. Please forgive me and see below the three songs I replayed the whole time I was writing this:

Song (not quoted but it practically breaks me) | Song (for Part II) | Song (for Part I) |

Warning: This is a monster. I say it now. The warning’s for the swearing I guess, because I shouldn’t be encouraging it. And well… It’s a monster. Lol. 

Oh won’t you stay with me?
‘Cause you’re all I need
This ain’t love, it’s clear to see
but darling stay with me

He opened the door to his apartment, multitasking between carrying a sleeping Amelia in his arms and unlocking the door. He maneouvered through his couch, across the comfortably-spaced living room, no lights on except for the one on the hallway. When he reached his own bedroom, he lay her down gently on top of the black, thick layer of the mattress.

He was quiet and he moved gently, mechanically, automatically. He was on auto-pilot, walking towards the bathroom, drawing a hot bath that he expected to cool down well-enough to be the perfect temperature for her. He thought of every mundane and necessary thing he could think of, focusing solely on the task at hand. He would probably have to deal with the other questions screaming in his head eventually, but right now he needed to concentrate on her. After laying every item down on the bathroom like a surgical instrument, he went on to delicately tear her armour apart, every piece of clothing she cocooned herself in - everything in order like a mastered procedure: first her jacket, discarded to the armchair by his bed. Then her shoes at the bottom of her feet.

Then her blouse, unbuttoning each button one by one, revealing her creamy white skin, no longer flush from the alcohol like before, but brilliantly fair. He took her pants off next, peeling them away from her legs. He was silent and meticulous and careful, like she was made of glass.

Maybe after all, he thought, she really was made of glass, the kind that was almost bullet-proof. Almost bullet-proof, he mused. Nobody is bullet-proof. Moving to the bathroom again, he left her for a moment, her body bare in his bed.

Stirring slightly awake from the change in temperature, Amelia curled herself into the sheets. She felt a little cold and her limbs scoured the bed trying to find a sign of warmth. Her mind had not registered the fact that she was in a bed in the first place. Then she felt arms underneath her, strong and snug and then the cold was discarded like an afterhthought. She wasn’t so cold anymore. It was unsettling though, feeling like she was naked, but not. There was strange comfort in these arms.

Owen had already seen Amelia nude countless times, and taking her underwear off should not even be such a big deal to him at this point, but right now he faultered. He had lain Amelia on the bath, half her body upright, reclining comfortably against the tub’s wall. The only hint her body gave of acknowledging the water was the little goosebumps that rose on her skin from the sudden warmth, and the tiny sigh that escaped her lips. The silky material of her creamy underwear soaked in the water and he unhooked her bra, taking each strap down her shoulders and off. He lowered her panties down her firm and strong legs with utmost reverence. 

He kept her head above the water, and cleaned her up with clinical precision. She was beautiful under the water, and the curves of her breasts, her waist and her hips had not changed in the least. It was the way that he saw her body right now that held his thoughts captive. He had taken the scrub and soaked it with soap and rubbed it down every inch of her skin. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive, nor that he did not feel the same heat that coursed through him when he saw the contour of her frame under the water, and how soft and supple her skin felt under his hands. It was that he only wanted to physically erase all the things that must have driven her to this state. He imagined dark patches of sadness on her shoulders and strings of pain on her chest, and he gently rubbed any illusive trace of darkness he conceived as if the act in itself would magically take it all away – down her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive skin under her forearm, her palm, down to each of her fingertips… Then to her chest, the soft edges of her chest, her nipples, and her abdomen. He moved closer to the side of the tub and dipped both his arms down in the water to fold her leg up. He guided the scrub down between her legs, lightly brushing against her in passing. Amelia stirred and brought her legs together as a reflex, her dizziness and tiredness still stronger than any awareness to her surroundings.

He proceeded to stroll down her thighs, to her defined calves, her ankles and the soles of her feet. It was as if he’d revised every single part of the human anatomy through her.

Once he was sure he was done, and while the water was still warm, he brought up the warm towell he’d kept by his side and proceeded to dry her off just as carefully as he’d bathed her. Owen dressed her with one of his t-shirts, the one she loved to steal the most, faded from the overuse. He knew she disliked wearing anything straining on her legs at night, so he took a pair of panties from the area of his closet that he kept just for her, collecting all the things she not so casually left behind.

Finally, he lay her back on the bed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they could talk.

The pulsating pain on her head was what woke Amelia up. It pounded insid her her skull with every pump of blood and her temple throbbed at the same rhythm.

She had barely registered the headache when the urge to throw everything her stomach contained made her wretch on the spot. Desperately trying to get herself out of the bed and find a sink to pour her guts out, a bucket appeared underneath her, ready to catch whatever she spilled in it.

It was the worst, the burn on her throat pure acid mixed with alcohol. She had not eaten much last night, and these kinds of hangovers were worse when she barfed it all up when her stomach barely had anything to throw back up in the first place. She grimaced at the disgusting aftertaste in her mouth.

A few more minutes of hurling and a few more to keep her breathing calm and stable, she managed to orient herself through the blur of her hangover. There was a hand rubbing her back, and she was clutching someone’s arm for support. The arm was firm hard muscle.

“What am I doing here…?” she asked, recoiling from his touch. She knew it was Owen. It couldn’t have been anybody else.

“Joe called last night from the bar,” he answered. “I brought you home.”

Amelia looked at his eyes directly when she heard the word. She remembered how she didn’t have one anymore. “This is not home.”

“I’ll take you to Meredith’s later.”

“No,” she said with a sense of conviction that made him look at her again.

Owen discarded the bucket and moved closer to her side to bring her under the covers. She would probably need some more rest after last night. “I’ll pass by your sisters’ house later and bring some clothes over then.”

“It’s not my house. It’s Meredith’s house. And she’s not my sister,” she answered, the tone ice-cold.

Now he tilted his head towards her. “I know she’s not your–”

“Meredith kicked me out. That house is not home.”

Owen paused at her words and he let them sink in first. “Meredith? She couldn’t possibly have. She’s your sis–”

“She is NOT my sister. Stop saying that she is. She couldn’t have made it clearer last night. And STOP trying to talk to me as if you care about it. Just stop.”

“Amelia, what happened?”

“Where are my clothes?” she asked him instead, suddenly trying to get out of the bed and away from his questioning look. “Owen, where are my clothes?!”

She couldn’t try to get away fast enough. She was angry, she was shattered, she had fallen. She couldn’t bear the look on his face while he talked to her. She wanted to get away, he was painful. 

“You drank last night, Amelia. Why did you do it?” 

She laughed an empty laugh. She couldn’t believe the fucked up irony. Now she definitely knew somebody up there was screwing with her.

“I don’t know, Owen? Why the fuck do you care?”

“Amelia,” he countered her, his voice strong.

“No, Owen! You don’t get to ‘Amelia’ me right now! You don’t get to do the part where you lecture me about falling off the wagon and usher me to a saintly meeting or pretend that we’re in some sort of stupid relationship where I tell you again how I fall apart and you come in to the rescue of the poor reckless Amelia Shepherd as her knight in shining armor!” she practically screamed at him trying to break away from his grasp, trembling at how much she wanted to explode right now. 


He saw the fury enveloping her, and the edges of her lashes thtreatening to let the tears to spill over. Her lips were trembling from how close to the edge she was. The words had finally come out. Her eyes… There was so much hurt in them, he felt like he couldn’t look at the dark blue abyss of her irises directly or he’d get swallowed by them too.

In one quick movement Owen wrapped his arms around her tight, pulling her whole body against his chest. He whispered to her, as she cried and fought and let her tears flow down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he said it to her over and over and over. 

“Stop it Owen, stop!” she protested, her shoulders still wrestling against his grip, trying to push him away, not allowing him to comfort her. “Stop it, stop it… It… I have to go. I failed. I wasn’t strong enough… Owen, I failed… Let me go!”

“I’m sorry, Amelia, I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve told you… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She pushed against him, but the way he was anchoring her down to himself was stronger than her, too strong. Her tears were turning into sobs, and her gasps for air, ragged. Soon enough she was breaking down right in front of him and she stopped struggling. With every whimper and with every break to her voice, she let it out of her. She called his name, knowing that he’d done it again, even when she had done every single possible thing against it. He’d made her love him, even when it hurt this much, even when it pulverized every single part left of her being. 

She had been brought down to rock bottom again, because she couldn’t take it. Because Meredith made her care again. Because she loved her like a sister too, even though she had apparently only tolerated her, taking her as a stray in her house since she had no other choice. Because everything felt horrible when she thought of something funny and she would instinctively turn around to tell Derek, and he wouldn’t be there. Because her thoughts were drowning her and she didn’t want to feel anymore.

She leaned into him, her face on his chest, soaking his shirt with tears, and she clung to him like a lifesaver.

He held her, soothed her. He waited till her breathing calmed down and he leaned down the headboard of the bed, letting her lie on top of him. She had fallen asleep again.

“You’re not going anywhere… You’re staying here. With me. This will be home.”