i have been playing around and i ended up with this and now i'm tired

Bon Voyage S2 Ep.8 - BTS’ letters to each other

YOONGI → SEOKJIN

“To. Jinjinjara, Seokjin-hyung!!

It’s your forever roommate, Suga.

Can you believe I have known you for 7 years… I remember when I met you for the first time. I’m surprised and amazed that the one who used to look so upright and kind… has become very bright and cheerful these days. I believe it’s because you’re with us. It seems like just yesterday you were nervous and not confident when you had to sing and perform on stage, but seeing your performance these days makes me think you sing really well. It’s no doubt the result of working hard for a long time. Even though I have been watching you for a long time, it still touched me how you secretly work hard to make up what you lack in. I thought of you as a hyung whom I have a lot to learn from. Let’s keep going together for a long time in the future too.

P.S: But I hope you can act your age.”

SEOKJIN → JUNGKOOK

“To. JK

Hi JK, it’s hyung.

I’m always thankful to you. Thanks for having the same mental age as this 26-year-old hyung. And traveling with you this time made me feel this once again. Your fists are really strong. I will be good to you, don’t hit me, got it? And your face got tanned a lot. As I’m your hyung I’ll give you facial masks when we get back to Korea. Calm your skin and yourself as well, stop lying on my bed. You keep lying on my bed when I’m not there and send me your selfies. If you do that one more time, your face may have got tanned in Hawaii, but I’ll throw you into the fire pit in Korea. And by “fire pit” I mean my firey heart. You can come into my big embrace. Thanks for always becoming our team’s teacher and energizer. To Jungkook who’s kind and handsome and strong and has nice body and big eyes and sings well and dances well, I love you.”

JUNGKOOK → NAMJOON

“To. Namjoonie-hyung

Hi hyung, it’s our team’s maknae, Jungkook.

I’m not the type to write letters often so I don’t know where to start, but I’ll try this time. This is something I always think about every day, but I really am inspired a lot by our team. Although I’m inspired by all 7 members, but I’m especially inspired the most by you. I always want to do a lot of things but can’t stick to them long, like how you guys always joke with me. But gradually, it feels like I really became that kind of person. When you work, talk about music, compose or speak in English, I feel like I grew a sense of confidence and passion. I know it must be tired for you, but please keep showing me your that cool side of yours in the future. I will keep following you from behind. You are a really awesome person.”

TAEHYUNG → JIMIN

“To Jimin.

Hi Jimin.

It cringes me a little to write a serious letter to you like this, but I’ll try. Hope you understand. When we were trainees, we came to Seoul without knowing anything. We would wake up, put on uniforms, go to school together, eating together after school ends, go to the practice room together, go back to the dorm together, and chat together at night. 6 years passed and unknowingly, you have become my dearest precious friend. There was a time before we debuted when you were anxious because of the debut. I had a meeting with the company at that time. They asked me “What would it be if Jimin was on the team?”. After thinking for a while, I said, “There’s no one who’s by my side when I’m tired or happy to laugh and cry with me but Jimin. I hope such a friend could be by my side. I want us to debut together.” It felt good to say that. I’m happy that we was able debut together and make lots of good memories. And sorry, because I’m always the one who take. Even know, you still cry with me when I cry in the bathroom, laugh with me when we sneak out at dawn, care about me and think of me, work hard because of me and understand me, listen to my worries, liking someone who’s lacking so much like me. Let’s keep walking together on the flower path for a long time. I love you, my friend.”

NAMJOON → TAEHYUNG

“Taehyung-ah.

So my first letter is to you. I have mixed emotions. Like the pebbles on the beach we saw in Hawaii, it’s hard to pick out what I want to say to you. Maybe it’s because we’re cherishing so many memories and so many moments like the sea we saw? I thought of the time when I first met you. Seeing you following your father, roaming around the dorm with big eyes and pouty lips, I already felt it from first sight. “This kid will be a rascal”. I remember how anxious you were before we debuted. Your unique and strange character is so vague that I sometimes questioned what’s in you that helped you endure all the way here. But as time passes and I mature more, I learned that even I, who I myself thought was the most normal, am quite strange and unique like an alien. I was drawn by your strangeness. Sometimes I really envy you. Because you can get close easily to anyone and everyone likes you. Your strangeness proved to be your unique charm. It may sound cringeworthy, but as a friend, a hyung who have been with you from the beginning of your trainee journey to now, I wanted to say thank you to you. Thank you for not becoming a farmer, not playing saxophone and came to Big Hit instead. Let’s keep up the good work. Fighting.”

HOSEOK → YOONGI

“To. My bro Suga
From. J-hope

Hi hyung? It’s Hoseok.

Without realizing, we have been together for 7 years, including our trainee days. When I first moved to the dorm, I was awkward and unfamiliar with everything, so I only stayed in the living room, but you came and talk to me first, helped me relax. I still can’t forget that time. You were like the savior to me, a Gwangju kid. Always by my side when I’m hurt, always by my side when I’m sad. You’re always there to support me and become my strength when I’m tired or exhausted. When I was tired from seasickness in Bon Voyage 2 this time, the first one I saw after opening my eyes was you. I couldn’t say then but I was really grateful to you. Through this letter and this chance, I want to tell you again that my gratitude to you is as great as the time we spent together. Hyung, thank you for becoming a member of BTS, thank you for becoming my dependable brother. Please keep staying by my side forever. I love my bro.”

JIMIN → HOSEOK

“To. Hoseokie-hyung

This wasn’t my first letter to you so I thought it wouldn’t be hard, but it was indeed not easy. I’m nervous. You’re the one whom I talk and share a lot with so think you’ll know well what I think and what I want to say. What do I think when I see you? “This person is really truthful and sincere”, “This person is really upright and kind”. You are probably the first one that made me understand a person can become this cool just by being truthful and sincere. As your brother and fellow member, I have a lot to learn from you. I wanted to tell you that I know you are always working hard to take care of us and I’m always sincerely thankful to you. Thank you, hyung. I hope you can take care of your body and stop worrying too much. To my hyung who I’m always thankful for, I love you.”

anonymous asked:

tell another story

When I was seven years old, my Grandmother’s ladle went missing.

This was her favorite ladle. This was her only ladle. She had a very bizarre attachment to this ladle. She became convinced it had been stolen

Suddenly, she trusted no one in the family. Accusations were thrown left and right. Fissures were ripping the family apart as everyone claimed innocence and my Grandmother only grew angrier. Everyone had unbelievably bad alibis. No one could be trusted in the Dark Times ruled over by the ladle thief. 

She couldn’t just buy a new ladle, no, it was the principal of the thing- this was her Prized Ladle, and some heathen who dared share her blood had betrayed her and stolen it. The family was in complete turmoil- no one could hold a conversation for longer than five minutes without begging for the return of the ladle. Grandmom stopped making family dinners. No one was safe, no one escaped without feeling the weight of this crushing catastrophe.

And then, one day, upon opening a bag of flour, my Grandmother learned the horrible truth.

Her ladle…had just simply fallen into the bag without her noticing. 

You would think this is where the story ends.

You see, Grandmother simply couldn’t be in the wrong here. She, upon letting everyone back into her life again, declared this was all Bonnie’s fault. Cousin Bonnie had been using her kitchen for something around the time of The Incident and must have knocked the ladle in, on accident or on purpose was anyone’s guess, and left it there for the bag to be sealed up without anyone checking. 

The family was incredulous! After all the drama, the woman can’t even admit her on wrongdoing? We could not just stand for this. This was injustice. The eldest of Grandmother’s children started to formulate a plan amongst themselves. 

For context, there are Nine Children, and at the time of this event, perhaps…Twenty Grand and Great Grandchildren, all of varying ages. All were eventually brought into play within the plot. 

On Christmas, at the large, loud, entertaining family party, my Grandmother never stood a chance of noticing her daughter Megan sliding into the kitchen. 

She never noticed the shinning, silver gleam of a ladle clutched in her hand, as she handed it off to Bonnie. 

She never noticed Bonnie slipping it into her bag, and never questioned why Bonnie was leaving the party so early. 

The plan was in motion. 

It took dear Grandmother far too long to notice the ladle had once again gone missing. By the time she turned up at Bonnie’s doorstep demanding answers, the ladle was well on it’s way to Japan. 

Grandmother wasn’t told this, however; Just told that maybe she should keep a better eye on her possessions. 

Before the ladle got to Japan, there was a brief stop at Bonnie’s brother’s home in Hawaii, and he gave the ladle a tour of the beautiful islands, taking pictures all the while. Then, he had to deploy with the army in Japan, and the ladle went with him for some time. She saw the gorgeous sites and also learned the ways of a soldier. 

The ladle grew weary of this life, and was mailed off to another relative. 

Every day, my Grandmother would wax poetic about betrayal and her missing ladle. Every day, the ladle experience a new event, city, state, or country. 

While smiling, peace keeping family members would come over to help my grandmother search her possessions for her missing ladle, the ladle itself was on the trip of a lifetime. 

Sports games, box seats, tourist sites- this ladle and our family knew no bounds. One uncle bought a bunch of those can holders that look like shirts, so the ladle could keep modest on her adventures. Celebrities held her in their hands. She touched foreign sands. She found herself, her life and ladle-ality on this trip. The family literally sent this utensil on an Eat, Pray, Love journey just to be petty.

My mother and I received the ladle in the winter months, near the end of her journey. We took her to New York City with us, she saw the Rockettes, toured NBC, and sat with me at David Letterman’s desk. 

Everyone, for all of the ladle’s journeys, took pictures.

We reach Christmas, a full year after the ladle escaped my Grandmother’s dramatic clutches. Grandmom finds herself surprised when she’s pulled into the living room and presented a large scrapbook and a large santa-sack that appears filled to the brim. 

She opens the scrapbook and gasps, now face-to-face with what has been going on all year. The book was titled ‘The Adventures of Mabel the Ladle’. The first page proclaims that Mabel escaped because she had been lonely, and every picture in there conveys every single one of her fantastical adventures with the entire extended family.

Grandmother opened the santa-sack to discover everyone had bought her ladle’s that year for Christmas- metal ladles, fancy ladles, themed ladles, every ladle you could ever imagine. 

Mabel the Ladle was never lonely again.

My grandmother never lacked in kitchen ware again.

All Was Well. 

anonymous asked:

I know you probably have a lot of requests with the gods and monsters - but would you ever do an Ares based one?

Zeus’s mistress Io remains in her form of a cow, guarded by Hera’s servant Argus, and Hera is content.

She will remain in that form until her death. Hera hopes that lying with her husband was worth the sacrifice.

Zeus won’t speak to her, unwilling to admit the cow is actually his lover and ensure her death, and equally unwilling to stand against his wife to try and rescue her. Hera has him just where she wants him, and it can’t last, it never does, but she intends to enjoy it while it does.  

Then Artemis comes to her, gold and fierce. She never flinches away from her queen, staring her in the face as if she is nothing more than another of her huntresses. If Hera did not hate her for being her husband’s daughter, she thinks she might actually like the girl. “Io has a destiny,” she says, “you must let her go.”

“I don’t care for her destiny,” Hera says idly, “especially when that destiny involves getting with my husband’s child.”

“She is to give birth to a new line of kings,” Artemis hisses, “to be the wife of a death god, to be mother goddess of a whole new people. She is not meant for us. You must let her go.”

“I am Hera,” she says, “I am Queen. I must do nothing.”

Artemis growls, hand twitching for her bow, but Hera only raises an eyebrow. Let the girl try. There are few that can stand against her, and the huntress is not among them. Artemis lets out a low breath and says, “Do it, my queen, and I will grant you what it is you most desire.”

“Some peace and quiet?” Hera asks.

“A child,” she answers. “Let Io go, let her fulfill her destiny as a goddess of the Black Land of the Nile. If you do that, I, the patron goddess of childbirth, will personally use every ounce of power I possess to ensure you conceive and deliver a child of Zeus.”

Hera’s eyes narrow, “Neither my power nor his has ever been able to achieve this. What makes you think you are any different?”

“We all have our domains,” she says, “just as you cannot command the sea, just as your husband has no power over the art of weaving, so can I ensure a healthy child when you could not.”

She taps her fingers against her throne. They call her a mother goddess, though she’s raised no children. Hephaestus may be her precious son, but he doesn’t know that it was not her that threw him from Olympus. Very few people know that. And she didn’t raise him regardless, that honor belongs to Hecate.

A child, of her and Zeus. A child she can raise.

“I accept,” she announces. “You may take her, and Zeus may fulfill her destiny.” She leans forward, brings the oppressive weight of her power to the fore and lowers the pressure of the air until Artemis is left shivering. “Know this, Patron Goddess of Childbirth. If Io births a son of Zeus before I do, I will travel to the Black Land of the Nile and slay her and her children with my own two hands. Not even Hades will be able to put her back together again.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Artemis says, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.

~

Hera is true to her word. She allows Hermes to think he’s tricked Argus and to steal Io away. She pretends to be outraged at the audacity, at the pure white cow traveling to the sands of the Nile.

Artemis is true to her word. Hera lies with Zeus, like she has so many times before, and a child grows inside of her. One day she stands before her husband and brings his hand to the swell of her stomach, “This is your child.”

Something almost like happiness steals across his face. She forgets, sometimes, that they hate each other only as much as they love each other. After so much time together, many would think it would be one or the other. They simply opted for both.

Artemis is there during the birth, her easy confidence more comforting then Hera will ever admit. Delivering Hephaestus was easy compared to this. She screams and cries and Hestia’s hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her from collapsing and begging someone to just cut the child from her. She doesn’t think she can die in childbirth, not with Artemis between her legs. She wishes she’d thought to ask before this began.

But she does not die. Her son is born, just as healthy and beautiful as Hephaestus was. “Well done,” Artemis says softly, placing the squirming child into her arms.

Zeus touches her hair and kisses his son’s forehead. “We shall call him Ares.”

“Very well,” she agrees, so tired her eyes struggle to stay open.

She hands her son to Hestia, and finally allows sleep to take her.

~

Ares grows into the spitting image of his father. Same copper-red skin, same silky black hair. Her husband keeps it short, but her son lets his grow long. The minutes Hera spends every morning brushing his hair are among her favorite.

He has an eager smile and a soft heart. Hera doesn’t know where he got it, since it’s certainly not from her or Zeus. Demeter tolerates his bumbling after her, though any time Kore attempts to meet her cousin Demeter’s temper frays. Poseidon allows Ares to explore the depths of the sea with a minor sea god acting as his guide. Apollo plays for him, and Artemis teaches him to hunt. Zeus’s lightning doesn’t burn his son, and when storms rage he takes Ares to the top of Olympus and teaches him to throw lightning bolts.

Hera selfishly does not allow Ares to go to the underworld. She knows he would be safe there, that Hades would protect him as he protected Hephaestus, but that’s precisely why she won’t allow it. They got to raise one of her sons already. It pains her to share Ares with them now.

He is happy, and kind, kinder than anyone would expect a child of her womb to be.

“He must choose a domain,” Zeus rumbles, watching Ares shoot arrows with perfect accuracy.

“He is a child still,” Hera says, “let him remain so for a little longer.”

“If he does not choose a domain,” Zeus warns, “one will choose him. We are gods. We must be gods of something.”

She flickers her gaze at him, and he scoots an inch away from her. “He is a child, and for now a child he will remain. We are not Demeter. We shall not thrust the responsibilities and power of a deity on a child who is not prepared for it.”

Zeus disapproves, but says nothing more.

Her son will be the god of something patient, something soft. The god of lost children, of heartbroken suitors, of forgiveness. Something where his gentle heart will aid him instead of hurt him.

She traded her happiness for power. She doesn’t regret it. But Ares doesn’t need to do the same – she’s the most powerful goddess that still walks the earth. He’s her son, and he’ll want for nothing she can provide.

~

Ares is almost fully grown, long hair reaching his hips even braided, and the strength of his limbs is such that he can keep up with Artemis on her most vigorous of hunts, that he can throw his father’s lightning bolts halfway across the world.

He’s been to every place, and met every god of the earth, sea, and sky.

Except for one.

 It’s not hard to find the volcano. He’s strong enough and old enough to take care of himself, and his mother does not worry when he says he’s going to the earth. But he did not tell her where, precisely, on the earth he was going.

He has strong legs.  It’s easy for him to climb to the top of the volcano. He’s almost made it there when something grabs his shoulders, stilling him. He turns, and stares into a single large eye. “What are you doing?” the cyclopes growls.

“I’m looking for Hephaestus,” he says, “He’s my brother.”

“My master has many brothers,” the cyclopes says.

Ares shakes his head. He is not the product of his father’s fling with a sprite or mortal. “I am Ares, son of Zeus and Hera. Just as Hephaestus is. I came here to meet my brother.” The cyclopes hesitates. He asks, “What’s your name?”

“Brontes,” he answers, surprised.

“Brontes,” he smiles, “I just want to meet him. I’ve never met him before. I won’t linger.”

There’s a moment where Brontes looks conflicted, and Ares tries to look as unassuming as possible. “Fine,” he huffs, “but don’t get angry at me if he dips you in lava.”

“That would be fun,” he says brightly. Lightning doesn’t burn him. So far the only thing hot enough to cause him pain is Hestia’s fire. He probably could go swimming in lava.

Brontes looks at him as if he’s slightly unhinged. He just keeps smiling.

~

There are more cyclopes underneath, and bright glittering machines that Ares can’t even begin to wrap his mind around. “Who are you?” someone demands, and a hand grabs his wrist and yanks him away from a boiling vat of lava that he’d been peering into.

He looks up at a man taller and broader than he is. He has skin almost as dark as the obsidian of his volcano, but lighter eyes. They are the color of dark amber, of molasses. “We have the same eyes,” he says happily.

Hephaestus releases him instantly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” he asks, “The mortals talk of you. No one else will. But you’re my brother, right?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, “Does Zeus know where you are?”

He shrugs, taking a step closer. His brother takes a step back. He wonders if he’ll have to treat Hephaestus like a spooked horse.  “Father doesn’t keep track of where I am. Mom know I’m on earth.” Hephaestus flinches, small enough that he almost doesn’t notice. “We have her eyes, you know.”

He can’t stop starring at Hephaestus’s skin. They do not work like mortals – Demeter, Hestia, Zeus, and Hera are all different shades despite coming from the same parents. But – Ares looks so much like his father. Kore looks like Demeter. Yet Hephaestus looks nothing like their father. He can see their mother in him, in the eyes and shape of his jaw, even in how angry he is right now. He looks like Hera does when she’s about to lose her temper, lips pressed into a thin line and the careful stillness of his shoulders.

“I wasn’t trying to make you angry,” he says plaintively, “I only wanted to say hello.”

Unlike their mother, Hephaestus lets out a deep breath and seemingly all of his anger along with it. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

Hephaestus kicks him lightly in the shin, the pretty gold and copper of his metal legs catching his eye. “You have legs, and I do not. Hera did not throw you from Mount Olympus as she threw me.”

Ares looks hard at his brother’s face. The stories say his mother threw her son away for being ugly, but he seems just as handsome as any other god Ares has seen. His features are strong and chiseled, and he supposes that could have looked unattractive on a baby, but –

– his mother loves him. Hera loves him with a ferocity only matched by her temper, she loves him at his most mischievous and irritable, loves him when a stray thunderbolt sets Demeter’s hair on end, loves him when even Artemis and Apollo have grown tired of his antics, loves him when Athena can tolerate no more of his questions. He is her son, and so her love comes without conditions.

He doesn’t think Hera would have loved his brother any less just because of how he looked.

He also knows that if he tries to say that, it’s likely Hephaestus will push him into a lava pit.

“Well, that’s not my fault,” he says, “If you don’t want us to be brothers, can’t we at least be friends?”

Hephaestus’s face softens. He looks like their mother then too.  He crosses his arms, “You can’t tell your parents.”

Our parents, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Obviously. Where did you get so many cyclopes?”

The last remnants of his brother’s stern façade shatters as he throws back his head and laughs.

~

Ares is very near maturity, more adult than child, and his father constantly pressures him to choose a domain. He usually quiets with one sharp glance from his wife, but the fact remains that it is time for Ares to take his place among the gods of the pantheon, to have temples in his name and worshipers like a proper deity.

He doesn’t really want any of that.  He wants to continue hunting with Artemis, learning with Athena, building with Hephaestus.

His brother lets him help out in his workshop sometimes, if he’s very careful and does exactly as he’s told. Otherwise he sits on a table, legs swinging, and watches his brother work and tells him about what he does in the time in-between visits. He talks about their mother enough that Hephaestus doesn’t flinch at her every mention, which Ares can only consider an improvement. Sometimes Brontes will stand beside him and they’ll eat sweet buns together.

Unfortunately, all things, good and bad, must come to an end.

~

There are two giants, Otus and Ephialtes, who grow tired of hearing of the golden boy of Olympus, who grow jealous of his kindness and his beauty.

These two giants sneak onto Mount Olympus in the middle of the night, sneak into Ares’s room, and kidnap him. They’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill him. Instead, they stuff him into an urn, and seal him inside. Ares rages and fights, uses every trick he can think of to break out his prison, but none of them work.

Stuck at the bottom of the urn and seething, he can’t help but think that if he’d listened to his father and chosen a dominion he might be strong enough to free himself. But he didn’t, so he can’t, and instead he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Days turn to weeks turn to months. He knows they’re looking for him. He knows his mother will tear apart the whole universe attempting to find him if nothing else. But – what if they can’t? What if he’s stuck in this urn for the rest of eternity?

In his darkest moments, his sorrow turns to rage. He is a god, son of Hera and Zeus, how dare they do this to him?

Then, one day, the urn opens.

Hermes peers down into it, then his face splits into a grin. “We’ve been looking for you!” He reaches down and hauls Ares out, and for a moment all he can do is blink at the glaring sun. Then his vision clears, and he sees they’re in the midst of a battle. The giants are fighting against the gods, against his parents, against the twins, against his brother. It’s bloody carnage, but – he can’t help but feel touched that all these people came looking for him. “Almost everyone offered to help find you,” he says, “but Hera didn’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves trying to sneak into their territory.”

No sooner has Hermes finished speaking than a giant barrels into his mother with sickening snap. Her shoulder slopes at a grotesque angle, but it hardly even slows her down.

“I have to help,” he says, a desperate urgency filling him. They came to help him, and now they’re getting hurt. That’s never something he’d wanted.

“Ares, wait!” Hermes calls out as he goes hurtling toward the battle. He doesn’t wait. Fighting on the ground can only do so much good, they’re strong but they’re outnumbered one hundred to one. He darts to Artemis, twisting around the bodies she’s throwing over her shoulder. “I need your bow!”

“Ares!” she says joyously, then, “What?”

“Trust me,” he says, “give me your bow.” A giant comes running towards them. Artemis flips him over her shoulder while continuing to stare at him in confusion. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so worried. “Artemis, please!”

She hands over her bow. She moves to give him her quiver of arrows as well, but he’s already moving away from her. Next it’s to his father, who’s hurtling lightning bolts towards the swarm of giants crowding him. They’re deadly, but only so effective at close-range. He grabs a sizzling lightning bolt right from Zeus’s hand, the only being on the planet who could do that and survive, and keeps running. “Get clear!” he calls out over his shoulder. “Everyone move!”

He runs up past Hermes, needing to get to high ground for this to work. “Get everyone off the battlefield,” he says to Hermes. “Now.”

Hermes pulls a face, but by the time he makes it to the top of the mountain, the gods have shaken off most of the giants, are far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry.

He can do this. He’s Ares, the son of Hera and Zeus. He’s been trained in archery by the great huntress herself. He breaths in, and strings his father’s lightning bolt like an arrow. He pulls it back, breaths out, and lets the lightning bolt fly.

It lands in the middle of the battlefield full of confused giants. With a great clap of thunder and a burst of light, they’re all gone.

All that remains of the traitorous giants is a crater.

The gods are approaching him, his mother at a limping gait that makes his chest ache. Zeus gets to him first, grin stretched wide as he grabs him by both his shoulders. “My boy! That was magnificent!”

“Thanks,” he says. The smell of charred flesh is in the air, and it makes his stomach roll.

They kidnapped him. They stuffed him in an urn for over a year. They hurt his mom.

That doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He never wants to do anything like that ever again.

“This was destiny,” his father says enthusiastically, and Ares has no idea what he’s talking about. “This is what you’re meant to do, son.”

He stares. He hopes it’s not.

The other gods are still at the bottom of the mountain. Artemis and Apollo each have one of his mother’s arms slung over their shoulders and are helping her up the mountain. Hermes and Hephaestus aren’t far behind.

He’s never seen his father look so proud of him. There’s a leaden pit in his stomach he can’t explain.

“In honor of my son’s great feat,” Zeus booms, his voice carrying across air, speaking with the voice of the king of the gods so his words become law, so they spread to every corner of the world, “I declare him Ares, God of War.”

Ares can’t breathe.

This isn’t what he wanted.


gods and monsters series, part xvii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

10

SPN Hiatus Creations || Week Sixteen: Subtext
 ↳ John Winchester did the best he could.
                                  subtext being his best was absolute crap.


I know we as the SPN fandom like our subtext to be of homoerotic nature, but I thought I try something different.
I’m not sure if this even qualifies. probably not.
but let’s all pretend it does

Keep reading

Cursed Child rant

Alright, Witches, Wizards, Muggles, and magical creatures big and small, hold onto your broomsticks because I’m about to tell you why I do not like Harry Potter and the Cursed Child nor accept it as canon. 

Spoilers ahead. Obviously. but c’mon who hasn’t read it or been spoiled by now Also, it got super long. 


Let’s start off by saying: it’s been months since I read it. If I get some things off a little, go ahead and tell me; I’ll edit the rant and correct it. If you just don’t agree with me… that’s great for you. Okay? We good? That’s all the disclaimer you’re getting. Moving on! 


Where do I begin? Um… Let’s recap shall we? 

It starts with Albus Severus Potter (who’s name I still cannot get over) meeting and becoming friends with Scorpius Malfoy. 

Okay. Great. We’ve all wanted that for years. No problem. 

We’ve also played with the idea of Albus in Slytherin for years. I have no problem with that either. 

What I do have problems with is the way Albus is treated after he is put in Slytherin. He’s the outcast of his family. He’s the “disappointing son”. After Harry’s canon “the bravest man I knew was Slytherin” speech (don’t get me started on Snape), I expected a bit better treatment of Slytherins. But Albus is Slytherin and looked at sideways by the entire cast, except Scorpius. This could easily become a rant about Slytherin’s and stereotypes and treatment, but I give enough of those already. 

My issues are mostly with Albus’ personality. Now, I didn’t write the character. He’s not mine. I don’t have the authority to tell anyone how he should be. All I can do is have headcanons. But “canon” Albus doesn’t exactly display a lot of Slytherin traits. Sure he sneaks around, but so does Harry, Ron, and Hermione and they’re all Gryffindor. If my memory serves me correctly, Albus goes to Slytherin because he basically thinks, “Well, the Gryffindors I know suck, let’s try Slytherin.”it’s been a while since I read it okay  

Albus is jaded by the time the plot picks up. He doesn’t like flying, isn’t that good at it or Quidditch (which honestly feels like they’re just trying to make him as unlike Harry as possible which I could handle if it wasn’t so badly written), and is basically convinced his life is horrible. (I’ll get into why a little later.) This kid shows no Slytherin traits that I remember. He hardly shows any traits really. I think it was the play format, but Albus becomes a stereotypical teenager who has daddy issues and doesn’t like his life. 

Scorpius I don’t really have a big problem with, besides it going against my personal headcanons. He at least shows a bit more Slytherin traits than jaded Albus. I feel like they were trying to break Slytherin stereotypes with him- which is great and all, but it almost makes me feel like that’s all Scorpius’ personality was. As if he was made to simply disrupt our preconceived ideas of what Slytherin is. I don’t like it. Stereotypes are something I can’t stand, but come on, people, don’t strip my house of what we actually are. 

Okay, moving on from Slytherin. 

Let’s take a step back from the new characters and visit the one’s we already know, we already love. Oh wait, they’ve been ripped to shreds. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your blog so much! If it's not too much trouble, could I request RFA (+ Saeran if possible?) after the RFA party? I'm dying for fluff ;0;

Hope this helps your fluff craving~ Enjoy! 


Zen:

  • He wanted to take you away from the press and reporters
  • So, Zen takes you downtown to a secluded cafe
  • But instead of sitting down to drink the coffee, he takes you around the little town
  • You two walk into little shops and see all the items
  • He takes you to a bridge nearby to see the cityscape
  • You two spend most of the time talking and right before you’re about to leave, he pulls out on of those locks
  • You write both of your name in sharpies and attach it to the bridge
  • He brings you back to his place and you order some take out
  • You’re really tired so you crash on the couch
  • He slides next to you and buries his face in your shoulder
  • You’re running your fingers through his hair and next thing you know, you had both fallen asleep
  • You almost missed the food delivery
  • Despite being exhausted, you two talk late into the night until you fall asleep on the couch again
  • He just carries you gently into the guest room before returning to his own

Yoosung:

  • He wasn’t exactly supposed to be at the party for that long
  • So, once it was over, you and the rest of the members forced him to go back to the hospital to finish his treatment
  • He only has to stay until evening
  • You decided to stay with him the rest of the day
  • He doesn’t have any video games, so you go down to the gift shop and get a pack of cards and a few boardgames
  • You’re mostly talking while playing, and it’s really nice
  • He keeps commenting on all your little habits and quirks, since this is the first day he’s actually seen you
  • When he’s finally discharged, you drive him home and he invites you inside for some coffee
  • Even though you insist he needs rest, you eventually give in
  • As soon as you walk in, it smells like lemon cleaner and vanilla candles, which is so like him
  • He shows you around his place and you find it cute when he gets flustered if you point out one of his collectibles or cute knick knacks
  • Despite his eye, he makes you a cup of coffee and you two talk in the kitchen
  • You can’t stay late and he needs rest, so you eventually have to call it a night
  • But he walks you to his car and gives you a few more soft kisses
  • The sweet taste of coffee accompanies your smile all the way back to your apartment that night

Jaehee:

  • The party was a success and the buzz of all the people made you giddy
  • And besides that, the fact that you and Jaehee were going to be partners for the cafe was beyond exciting
  • Seeing you so ecstatic, Jaehee surprised you by taking you to the cafe she bought right after the party
  • Your enthusiasm was contagious and you two spent your time looking at the empty spot, imagining how you would redecorate the place
  • Afterwards, you drag her to a home improvement store so you can look at paint and color schemes
  • You get a bunch of samples to look at later
  • By the time you’re done there, your extra energy is worn out and Jaehee is also crashing from the day’s activities
  • You invite her back to the apartment since it’s closer than her place
  • You guys pick up some food on the way back and eat up a storm
  • You’re talking about so many things, sometimes funny and silly moments of your favorite singers and other times very deep and serious conversations about your lives and future
  • In the end, you lose track of time and it’s already past midnight
  • Trying to get Jaehee a little more out of her shell, you tell her just to stay the night
  • She’s hesitant at first, but she’s so comfortable with you now she agrees
  • You bring out extra pillows and blankets and you two continue your conversation over a DVD of Zen’s latest musical
  • Eventually, you get tuckered out and you both fall asleep on the couch

Jumin:

  • The last eleven days had been a rollercoaster of events with the party and with Jumin sorting out his own emotions
  • So, Jumin hoped to take you on a calmer outing after the party
  • At first, he suggested a high end fancy restaurant, but you asked if he wanted to take a stroll in the park first
  • You both change into more comfortable clothes  
  • Turns out Jumin has three outfits that aren’t part of a suit
  • He’s a bit stiff at first, since he’s not used to just walking and talking casually
  • But then you slip your hand in his and you feel him relax
  • He’s intrigued by the small vendors selling ice cream or cotton candy
  • He buys you both some shaved ice and you find a quiet bench
  • He takes some blurry photos of you and the lake and even some of the ducks
  • Once dinner rolls around, he gets his wish and takes you to a nice restaurant
  • You can’t help but love the contrast between the two outings, but somehow it brings out the best of Jumin
  • After the meal, he takes you onto a secluded balcony on the top floor of the restaurant
  • He takes your hands and thanks you for everything in the past few days
  • You say a few loving words of your own
  • For the first time, everything is slow and beautiful and you take in every second 
  • At the end of the night, he accompanies you as far as he can to return you safely to the apartment
  • And as you lay down in bed that night, you can’t help but feel a shift in your life for the better


Seven:

  • You two didn’t get to go to the first RFA party, so the second one is very exciting for you both
  • But afterwards, you were both a little drained from all the guests and interactions
  • So, he takes you to a nice diner to get some milkshakes and discuss what happened
  • You both exchange stories of awkward moments or funny incidents during the party until you’re laughing so hard your sides hurt
  • Feeling a bit more energized, you both want to do something else before you head home
  • Impromptu trip to the nearest planetarium it is
  • It’s actually rather peaceful and sentimental for you both since it’s something you two talked about doing the first time you met
  • Since it’s still the middle of the day, there aren’t a lot of people there
  • You and Seven get to share some private moments where you’re just holding hands or resting your head on his shoulder as the show plays
  • When it comes to the other displays, you two start taking stupid pictures next to them and adding funny captions and filters on Clapchat
  • You stay there longer than necessary
  • Mostly because you both have a blast in the gift shop looking and hundreds of quirky space themed things before choosing one thing to buy
  • Around dinner, you two head to his place since you thought it might be nice to cook a meal and share it with Saeran as well
  • Only, you made the mistake of laying on his couch for a few minutes to scroll through your phone after such a long trip…and Seven made the mistake of joining you
  • Saeran is waking you both up a few hours later with some take out he ordered already waiting in the kitchen

Saeran:

  • He didn’t feel comfortable coming to an RFA party until it was about the third one you planned
  • Everything was really great, and he even talked to a few guests
  • But the crowd got overwhelming and you found him in the hallway by the time the party was over
  • You could tell he was drained so you drag him to the ice cream shop
  • He was expecting to stay there and eat it, but instead you take his hand and start walking
  • He thinks you have a plan, but halfway through town and realizes you don’t
  • So he just goes along with you as you grab his hand and swing it back and forth
  • He surprises you when he pulls you into a bus that travels to the town over
  • He’s not used to being “spontaneous” but he wanted to try
  • You guys find a small little bakery where you grab something to eat
  • Then as you’re wandering, you pass by a cat cafe and you can’t resist going in
  • At first, Saeran is super jumpy with all the cats around, but there’s one reddish kitten that calmly jumps onto his lap and sits there
  • You watch as a small smile grows on his lips when he pets it
  • At one point, you even lost him in the place because he was following the one cat around
  • He’s reluctant to leave, finding the cats therapeutic by the end
  • You guys catch a bus to take you back home, and thankfully get some seats in the back
  • You rest your head on his shoulder and end up falling asleep
  • He hesitantly wraps his arm around you and pulls you close as he looks through the window at the passing scenery
  • For the first time in a very long time, he feels at peace and he’s even a little sad when the bus comes to your stop 

Check out our other headcanons~ Masterlist

dabard95  asked:

Imagine Percy has gone off to help some hapless campers once again, and Annabeth isn't too worried because come on, it's PERCY. Then she reaches into her pocket for something, some change or her keys maybe, and instead she pulls out Riptide in its pen form.

Her fingers close around something narrow and smooth, and Annabeth’s heart stutters to a stop in her chest. 

The kids are dancing around her knees, squealing and hitting out at each other, each calling for her attention, and the baby’s balanced on her hip and crying because her favourite pacifier has gone missing and the gods know she won’t accept any replacements. They’re running horrendously late for lunch with Frederick, and it’s pure chaos, but everything slows down as Annabeth pulls her hand out of her pocket and looks down to see the pen. The magical pen that is always meant to find its way back to Percy’s pocket.

But it’s not in Percy’s pocket, it’s in hers, and that means that he’s gone out to help rescue some campers stranded by the Hudson without any weapon.

Oh, shit.

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anonymous asked:

Could you please write one where Race takes care of the reader (a girlsie) when she gets sick while selling? I'm having a really bad day and I think it might help me feel better, I really love your blog :)

i’ve received a lot of requests for Race, and that makes me so gosh darn pleased, you guys. the next one i’ll have up will be a crutchie one, so be on the lookout. hope i could make your day a little better.—Nails

Nearly half your papers gone… Seemed like as good a time as any to break for lunch, you figured. Hopefully, you’d run into some of the boys, and they’d split the cost of some bread with you, like always. Today seemed to drag on and on, more so than other days. Your head felt full, and your ears muffled. There had been a cold going around among the boys… You pushed the possibility of that out of your mind and kept walking.

“Hey, there, lady!” Finch called. He was waiting outside glittering cafe with Albert. You couldn’t help but grin slightly at the goofy duo. Albert waved, a smile on his cheeks, and some dirt on his nose. “Took you long enough, you’re usu'ly the first one ‘ere.” Finch said. The pair of them embraced you.

You shrugged. “Tired, I think.” Your head immediately snapped away from them, feeling almost sick from how quickly you turned. The rabble coming from down the street was rabble that only could’ve belonged to two New Yorkers. Romeo and Race. Practically brothers, they were. Always pushing and daring each other, but wholly protective, especially Racetrack over Romeo. The shorter boy on Race’s back as they ran up.

Romeo clambered off of Race, and grinned. “Hello girls. And (Name).” He said. Albert firmly smacked him across the back of the head, firmly letting him know how stupid he was. There were very few things you loved more than watching the boys interact freely like this. It was a refreshing sight. You let out a couple of hard coughs, before Race walked over to you.

“Hey you,” the blonde boy started. Race placed an arm around your shoulder lazily. The two of you were… It was uncertain what you were. Always playing cat and mouse, it seemed. It was assumed by the others that the two of you were a couple, but there had been no formal agreement about anything between you. There was just Race and (Name). And that felt like what you two needed. Soft kisses on the cheek, fingers intertwined, shared cigarettes, support. “You sellin’ okay? New spot and all…” He asked.

You shook the bag of papers at your side and coughed again. “Near half.” You rasped. Race gave you a slight look, almost checking on you, and pulled his hat off. You cleared your throat and looked up at him slowly, afraid of making yourself dizzy again. “Your hair’s a rat’s nest, Race.” You reached a hand up to comb it back with your fingers, but he softly swatted your hand back, laughing.

Race turned back to the group of hooligans. “Alright, boys let’s get somethin’ ta eat.” He jeered. The lot of you poured through the doors, disrupting the quiet of the building, like every afternoon. After looking through the loaves of bread, you all agreed on one soft white bread. “Finch, check my math. Five cents a piece?” Race said, checking the price of the loaf.

“Five cents a piece.” The boy confirmed. All of the newsies reached for their pockets, pulling out pennies, Romeo got lucky and had a nickel. He always ended up with nickels. You stifled another cough into your elbow, and swiped at your nose with your sleeve. It wasn’t exactly your sleeve, it was Crutchie. He’d given you this shirt. You shoved your hand into your pocket and felt around for coins.

Race looked over at you. His eyes were flooded with concern. “Hey, no,” Race said softly. “I’ve got it.” You immediately opened your mouth to protest, with your newly gravely throat.

“No, ya don’t g-got it. I’m payin’.” You insisted. Race had already handed over the money for both of you before you could even finish. “Tony Higgins, I cannot believe you.” You crossed your arms over your chest at the boy. He just rolled his eyes at you. Romeo muttered a comment about you being dramatic. He was one to talk. After paying, you all stepped back on the the patio and sat down on the floor.

Albert placed his legs on top of yours and started to tear the bread apart and pass it around the group. Race pulled a couple of cigarettes out of his pocket, and offered one to you. Sadly, you declined with a cough and a shake of your head, and wiped some sweat off your face. “Alright, (Name), are you feeling okay?” He asked.

“Race, I—” a wheeze betrayed.

His face was laced with the highest of worry. “Come on, let’s get you back…” Race started.

“I gotta sell!”

Race grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up gently. “I’ll see you guys later. (Name) ain’t feeling so well, I’m gonna watch her.” You had no say now. Race walked you back to the lodging house, being almost too careful with you. The love in his eyes was ever present. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, Race.”

“That’s a lie. You was coughin’ and wheezin’. Let’s get you inside.”

He helped you into a bunk, and pulled some of your layers of clothing off. “You’re burning up, beautiful.” Race mumbled. “I’m gonna go getcha some water and a rag, alright?”

“Alright, try not to worry too much while you’re gone.” You whispered. He would worry, though. He was almost as big of a worrier as Davey. His brow would knit in on itself, and he would start to chew his lip. That was the look you saw every time you got soaked, busted, or sick. Worried Race, lead to angry Race and from there, it was a downward spiral. He reappeared with everything he’d mentioned. The tall boy dipped the cloth strip in the cool bowl and pressed it to your cheek. “I can do that, y-you goon.”

Race sigh. “Can’t I help you out this once? Show you that I actually give a shit?” He mumbled. “Because I do. And you scare the hell outta me sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s just a cold.”

Race shrugged, hands never leaving your face, which his was getting closer and closer to. “It’s better practice for next time. Just… Just let me try to be a good boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend…?”

“If you’re good with that, I mean—”

“Yes.”

chameleon-tea  asked:

ok um i'm trash but um can i have a fic where like michael is really protective of jeremy (for whatever reason) and just everyone is gay and it's great

Ay, back at it again with the late replies to asks I should have done ages ago (IM SORRY). Hope this will suffice, thank you for the prompt!

——

The plan was for Jeremy to get out of hospital, ask out Christine and live a normal high school life as a normal high school teenager - now with a few more friends. What Jeremy wasn’t anticipating was Michael’s change in attitude when he got back.

Michael, his best friend for twelve years, had suddenly become very… attached to Jeremy. He hadn’t noticed at first, focusing more on his plan to ask out Christine or catching up on any work that The Squip had previously deemed ‘uncool’ or ‘useless’. But as the days went by Jeremy began to notice Michael’s presence more and more. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for Michael to have his bad days and follow Jeremy around for the majority of the school day but by the end of the week Jeremy couldn’t think of one instance where Michael had left his side.

When Monday came, Jeremy found Michael waiting outside his house to walk to school. The two stood side by side as Michael hopped along the pavement with his headphones around his neck, looking around as if he was expecting someone to pop out behind the passing houses. As he began to calm down, Jeremy took a closer look at his best friend. He noticed that his eyes were slightly more droopy than normal, little bags had begun to form underneath them. His hair was ruffled and he was wearing the wrong shoes, as if he was in a hurry to leave the house. Despite this, Michael still wore his generic giddy smile on his face, the look which made Jeremy’s heart melt slightly on the inside.

At lunch time, Rich and Jake approached the two, asking if they wanted to join them at their table in the far corner of the cafeteria. There sat the rest of the group - Brooke, Chloe, Jenna and Christine - eagerly waving at the best friends. Before Jeremy could reply with some cheap excuse as to why he wasn’t feeling well all of a sudden, Michael jumped in between them, turning to Jeremy.

“Come on dude, lets go sit with them! It’ll- It’ll be fun,” he stammered out the last past, suddenly dragging his best friend across the hall before he had a chance to protest. Under his breath, Jeremy heard him mutter “no harm done yeah? Yeah…”

Jeremy, naive Jeremy, brushed off the encounter as Michael just acting up as he sometimes did. But a few days later Jeremy was walking down the hallway on the way to his next class when he heard Michael catch up to him, skidding to a stop once he reached his best friend.

“How was math?” He small talked, slurping the remains of his slushie.

“It was fine, I guess. I wish Mr David would ease up on the homework though, I’m starting to get-” before Jeremy could continue, he was stopped in his tracks by Michael. He turned to see a mixture of anger and fright on his face, a look that really didn’t suit him. Jeremy tried to follow his line of sight but was cut off by Christine shouting his name from down the hallway. He looked back and waved, but when he returned to his best friend’s gaze it was gone, replaced with what looked to be a sympathetic smile as he saw Christine.

“I’ll… uh- catch up with you later Jer,” he mumbled before setting off in the opposite direction without letting Jeremy say a word.

Jeremy tried to give Christine a decent conversation but it was clear he was distracted by something else. He kept turning to look down the hallway in which Michael had seen something, making him stop dead in his tracks. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had seen. Jeremy briefly heard Christine asking if he was alright, to which he replied some rehearsed nonsense about being tired from schoolwork while he continued to focus on the hallway.

It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that he discovered what Michael had been so frightened of.

Jeremy had just finished play rehearsal with the gang and was making his way through the school hallways to go home. Just as the doors came into sight, he spotted a group of - maybe two or three - boys hanging around the doorway, blocking the entrance. They seemed to be waiting for someone, so Jeremy naturally assumed they were one of the many friends of Jake or Chloe. However, as he began to approach, one of the boys spotted him coming and alerted the other two of his arrival. Confused, Jeremy stopped walking and spoke up;

“Um hi… could I get past please? You’re kind of blocking the door,” he stuttered, trying not to mess up his wording in front of the intimidating boys. But neither moved an inch. Instead, the main boy came forward, speaking slowly and articulating his words so precisely it sent a shiver down Jeremy’s spine.

“That was kind of the point mate,” he chuckled and the other two joined in. “We were just waiting for someone…”

“Oh…” said Jeremy, slowly shifting his feet. “W-who?”

Deep down, he already knew the answer.

“You.”

Now, Jeremy had dealt with bullies before, being a loser and all. He was used to the unoriginal insults and the occasional shove. But these guys were clearly not messing around, going out of their way to wait for him after school and everything. Jeremy took a step backwards in fear.

“You’re the guy that possessed my brother yeah?” The main boy snarled. Jeremy’s face twitched for a second, taking another step back.

“P-possessed?!”

“He told me bout it. Said some dude in his drama rehearsal tried to take over the whole cast. Course, the guy doesn’t care now. He’s way too forgiving for his own good my brother,” the boy continued, slowly inching forwards. His friends had now joined his march a few feet behind him. “Fortunately for you, I’m nothing like the guy. I’m a solid believer that you deserve what’s coming to you buddy.”

Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He couldn’t keep retreating forever, the gang would eventually catch up to him, and there was no way he was going to slip past these three boys. Caught up in his thinking, he stopped retreating. Jeremy realised his mistake too late as he felt his whole body smash up against a locker. His head smacked the metal plating behind him, causing an immediate headache to rush into his head. He blinked and locked eyes with the bully.

“Or maybe, I just want an excuse to beat up a nerd,” he smirked, lifting his fist to the air. His two friends stood back, watching the whole ordeal go down without interfering. Jeremy shut his eyes closed and tensed up, preparing himself for a blow to the face at any moment.

Instead, he felt his body suddenly drop the ground as a loud grunt came from the boy. Confused, he peeled his eyes open to see the previously menacing boy sprawled across the floor with a bloody nose. His two friends had stepped back in fear at the cause of the punch. The guy responsible stepped forward and glared at the two, signalling - or warning - for them to leave. They did as instructed, picking up the brother and rushing out the door without saying a word.

Jeremy’s head had began to ease up just enough for him to start to process what had just happened when his arm was flown over a shoulder and he was heaved up onto his feat. The familiar smell of weed and slushie suddenly hit him and he knew exactly who had come to him rescue.

“Michael?” He spat out, turning to face the boy. Now that he was fully standing on his own, he could focus on the boy. Michael’s face was covered in sweat. His eyes glimmered with a hint of fear and relief at the sight of his best friend and a large bruise had begun to form on his knuckle from where he had punched the bully.

“Michael,” he said again, this time more definite. It was at that point where Michael’s intimidating persona faded as his eyes began to well up with tears. He flung himself onto Jeremy and dug his head in his neck as he began to sob.

“I’m- I’m sorry I just…” he muttered through his tears, “I heard them… when you came back to school- they were talking about what they were going to do to you- and I just… I just wanted to make sure that you were ok-”

“Thank you Michael,” was all Jeremy could muster before his eyes too began to fill up with tears. The boys sat there, in the school hallway, for about ten minutes silently crying until Jeremy sat up and pulled Michael up with him as they slowly made their way out of the building.

——

“Morning!” Jeremy greeted his friends by the school entrance. By his side was Michael with his bandaged knuckle and huge smile on his face.

“Morning bro!” Replied Jake. The group shared a quick conversation before entering the school and as they walked down the hallway Michael stood proudly by Jeremy’s side.

“Oh my gosh Michael,” exclaimed Christine as she noticed the white bandages across his hand, “what happened? Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry Chris,” replied Jeremy, putting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “he’s got it under control.”

Just up ahead, a brief conversation between Rich and Jake could be heard.

“Now that I think about it, my bro was acting a little strange last night. He came home with a broken nose and started ranting on about this dude in a hoodie.”

“No way!” Rich cried, “your bro got beat up by some kid in a jacket?”

“Yeah yeash,” replied Jake who appeared to be pondering the thought. “He said someone about him being utterly terrifying, looming over him and protecting his lanky best-”

Slowly, the two boys locked eyes and turned to find Michael’s hand bruised after Christine insisted on changing the bandage. He looked up to see the boys staring and smirked. Turning to Jeremy, he flew an arm around his shoulder and paraded forward, passing the two as he went. Turning round, Michael brought his damaged hand up to his eyes and returned the glare, signalling NOT to touch his best friend in case they also wanted a piece of what he could do.

Deep down, Michael just wanted his hand to heal quicker. He couldn’t press the buttons on the controller properly with a bruised knuckle, but the image of being a type of bodyguard for Jeremy - it made it all worthwhile.

anonymous asked:

soft daddy Louis when Harry's had a long/bad day! just wants to make his baby feel good!

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!! I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO BE SO LONG OR FOR IT TO JUST, LIKE, BE THIS WAY IN GENERAL. IT TOOK FOREVER. I AM SO SORRY. WARNING 4 SOME NOT-TOO-FILTHY SMUT AHEAD.

Louis’s got a bad habit of falling asleep on the sofa — to be fair, it’s a great sofa — and, consequently, spends a lot of time getting an earful over how awful it is for his back, as if Harry’s not twenty-three going on eighty.

Which is why it’s a bit strange when, rather than being prodded at unceremoniously, Louis awakens to Harry spilling into the tiny space between Louis’s body and the edge of the seat cushion, carefully arranging himself to fit. His arms slide around Louis’s middle, and Louis chuckles as he ducks his chin, buries his nose into Harry’s hair and inhales shampoo and summer-musk.

“You’ll fall, love,” Louis murmurs, even as he winds an arm over Harry and shifts farther back into the couch, tugging Harry in closer. Harry only hums disinterestedly and tilts his chin up with a languid blink.

“Can I have a kiss, Daddy?” he asks. Louis obliges, soft-lipped and easy, brushing his knuckles over Harry’s cheek. He’s been Daddy for years now, but it never stops feeling like a gift, like something he needs to keep safe and secure behind his heart, because Harry’s trusted him to do so.

Eventually, Louis tugs Harry’s head back with his fingers wound into his hair. His brow furrows.

I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, Louis’s joked, always know when my Hazza needs me. My baby.

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bransii  asked:

Hi! I'm a new reader and I just wanted to say I absolutely love your writing n_n Could you do some headcanons on RFA+V+Saeran with an animator MC? Maybe with them trying to help her with her work with their own talents and whatnot? Like Zen doing voices, Yoosung with story ideas, etc, etc. Thank you!

Cute idea ^^

–R.I.

Request Killing: 2/30


RFA+Saeran and Animator MC

Yoosung

  • You call him almost every night to ask for his opinion on the storyline, and he tries his best to offer suggestions or ideas for you to bounce off of
  • But unlike you, he wasn’t used to staying up so late…
  • Most nights, you would hear him snoring lightly over the phone while you were in the middle of talking
  • Although you’d feel annoyed at first (especially since you were stressed over your work), you’d calm down and remind yourself that Yoosung was willingly giving his time to you despite not benefiting from it
  • Just the mere thought of him trying so hard to help you every night made you smile.
  • He wakes up and finds himself in his own puddle of drool on the desk most mornings (HE NEVER LEARNS)
  • And desperately tries to wipe it up, thoroughly embarrassed that he still drools despite being a college student
  • He always feels apologetic that he falls asleep first, and wants to help you the best he can, knowing that you stay up even later than him—sometimes he wonders if you even sleep…

Zen

  • He very much looks forward to being your voice actor!! Although you tried to pay him, he firmly refused
  • “We’re friends, aren’t we, MC?” he’d say, pouting as he tried to guilt-trip you
  • He already has a lot in his schedule—his rehearsals, plays, work-outs, modelling, acting lessons… And now he tries to fit in voice-acting for you, barely having time to eat even 2 meals a day, and only sleeping a few hours every night
  • Sadly, you were too caught up in your own busy life to notice that his condition was worsening
  • He put on bright smiles to see you every time he came to help, putting on extra make-up to hide the tired lines on his face and forcing out a good voice for you even when he was risking a sore throat
  • It wasn’t until he didn’t show up one day that you realized what was going on. You had tried to phone him when he was late, but he hadn’t picked up. So you asked In the RFA group chat, and Jaehee immediately replied that Zen had been taken to the hospital!
  • When you read the news article that followed the incident, you learned that he had been overworking himself, and that he had collapsed in the studio. No wonder he couldn’t make it today…
  • Immediately, you were overwhelmed with guilt, knowing you were one of the reasons he collapsed.
  • He ruffles your hair when you visit him at the hospital, laughing that he was perfectly fine. But he did end up agreeing to only help you out when he had free time

Jaehee

  • She was already busy with all the work Jumin gave her
  • But you’re her best friend and there was no way she wouldn’t support you
  • You had no idea, but she was the one who ordered food for you every night… You would hear your doorbell ring and find a deliveryman standing there with food in his hands, fully paid for already under your name even though you knew you hadn’t made the order
  • And in the mornings, Jaehee would drop off a hot drink for you before she headed for work. Sometimes it was coffee, sometimes flavoured tea, and sometimes sweet milk.
  • She knows that you often stayed up all night perfecting scenes, and thought the caffeine would help you regain your energy—also because she was aware that you would keep working until you’d pass out, so that extra bit of energy was definitely needed

Jumin

  • He wasn’t really sure what animating was
  • Until you showed him one of your videos…
  • He was absolutely flabbergasted. “You made this? From scratch? The whole thing?” he had asked, a bit doubtful because it looked so professional.
  • He vowed to support every one of your works, and became the source of your funds
  • Of course, you used the money only when you really needed it, not wanting to take advantage of your friendship with him
  • He paid for billboards to advertise your projects, no matter how grand your animation really was
  • It was thanks to him that you gained so much attention from famous animators, who offered to be your mentor!

Seven

  • He came right over to help! Although his main job was hacking, he was skilled in all forms of technology—be it video edits, photoshop, social networking, computer code, etc.
  • Oh, but he had zero art sense, so he couldn’t help you with digital art
  • BUT he would help you organize the frames, and give feedback if something was out of place. He had a keen eye for detail after all. (Developed from the need to be severely attentive in his missions)
  • While you were busy working on your animations, Seven would take snippets of your work and upload it online, using his bots to get it trending over the internet
  • Yes, that’s why you’d wake up and find scenes of your animation all over social media…
  • (He also filtered out any negative comments as well, so you would only see love, support and encouragement from your fans)
  • And since he was right beside you, he would make you catch some sleep, lecturing you that it was important for your health. (He wasn’t always around though, since he had his own work)
  • Seven was the biggest help whenever you were busy animating, both in the actual animation and keeping your sanity in check.

V

  • He was the one who took all your reference photos for you
  • Sometimes, you wanted a certain scenery for your backgrounds, and he’d search high and low to find the closest thing to what you imagined—he would go on a lot of trips every time you had another animation project… (which made Yoosung accuse him of slacking off and not really helping… lolol the omelette boy just had to find every reason to jab at V)
  • And sometimes, you’d want a specific angle of an object, and he would take hundreds of photos just to find THE angle you desired
  • Sometimes you suddenly decided you didn’t want that angle, after all. And then he’d go through the pains of taking even more photos for you
  • But he was always happy to help
  • He loved travelling, he loved photography, and he loved being helpful to you!

Saeran

  • He was a bit jealous that everyone else kind of had a set job—the creative and young Yoosung helping with the plot, the actor Zen helping to voice lines, the motherly figure Jaehee who made sure you were eating healthily, the corporate director Jumin providing funds, the photographer V helping to find reference photos, and his techy brother Seven who helped put your animation together.
  • So he tried to help in his own way. He would be your ‘Vanderwood.’
  • He cleaned up your house while you were too busy concentrating on your work to notice
  • He would prepare meals (Saeran was a good cook!) since he knew the take-out that Jaehee ordered for you wasn’t healthy to have everyday
  • He’d cover you up with a blanket whenever you fell asleep—sometimes if you hadn’t gotten much sleep in DAYS, he’d dump you into your bed and lock you in there
  • And… most embarrassing for him to admit, Saeran would even model clothes for you. Surprisingly, he could pull off a ton of styles! Whether it was a badboy, innocent, cheerful or even girly look, he’d still look cute! (Well, Seven dooooes cosplay a lot and matches various styles… Not surprised that his twin has that ability, too…)
  • Although he never voiced his opinions or complaints, he was very, very pleased that he was able to help you!

Bonus: You gave each of the RFA members a special mention in the credits of your animation, which really touched their hearts!!

anonymous asked:

Drabbles!!!! Lance wants to get some flowers for his long-awaited date, Keith, so he goes into a flower shop to find a nice bouquet. Except one catch, Lance is very allergic. Like, needing-an-inhaler Very Allergic

hoW DO I DRABBLE THIS OMG?? 

The date’s been coming together as smoothly as the final pieces of a puzzle displaying a stunning, complex image. Keith and Lance’s relationship had been rocky, for better lack of words. Many assumed they would never be able to work past their differences to even be friends, yet they pushed against all odds, and Keith made the move and asked Lance out once the two had sealed a friendship for a few months. 

Lance, of course, had been over the moon when Keith asked, and since then, he’s been plotting the perfect date. All that’s left is to piece together a beautiful bouquet from the local flower shop then he can pick Keith up and whisk his date off to dinner and a movie. 

When he opens the door to the flower shop, a small bell chimes over head, and moments later, Shiro pops up from behind a shelf of vases. 

“Hey, Lance!” 

Lance has only known Shiro for a few months, but he’s fond of the guy. Shiro’s the type of person who is incredibly easy to talk to, and the two had become quick friends. 

“Hey, Shiro. What’s up?” He asks, rubbing absently at his nose as a soft smile plays at his lips. 

“I should be asking you that,” Shiro says, motioning toward Lance’s outfit. “Finally got the big date with Keith?” 

Lance nods, sniffling quietly as he starts further into the store, fingers ghosting above various flowers. “Yep! I wanted to pick out a bouquet for him.” 

“That’s sweet,” Shiro says, voice gentle, earnest. “You want any help?” 

“Nah, I’ve got this,” Lance says as he leans forward to closely examine a cluster of red roses. He knows red is Keith’s favorite color, but he’s not sure if roses would be too forward of a gesture. He straightens his back with a slight cough that has him frowning and rubbing gingerly at his throat. 

He was feeling fine before, more than fine, yet there’s a persistent itch building in the back of his throat. A brief flash of hot panic shoots across his mind, bringing with it vivid images of childhood days in the hospital after severe allergic reactions that triggered his asthma, but, he thinks to himself, shutting down all memories, it’s been years since he’s had a bad reaction. 

Don’t these things fade away with time? 

He clears his throat and continues picking through the various flowers, but the itch at the back of his throat begins to burn and grow until he’s turning away to cough into the crook of his arm. He figured one or two coughs and he’d be fine, but the second he starts, he can’t stop. It’s almost as if his lungs cannot take in enough air against a massive, burning lump clogging his throat. 

“Lance? Are you okay?” 

Looking toward Shiro is a struggle for Lance’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears, but he can still faintly make out the older boy’s worried features. He shakes his head and wraps one hand around his throat. “Can’t,” he wheezes out around rattling coughs. “Breathe.” 

“Shit! Okay, hang on!” 

Lance nods, watching against hazy vision as Shiro storms to the front of the store. His legs buckle, and he’s slumping toward the floor with harsh, dry coughs that seem to never end. 

*****

“Lance!” 

Lance looks up from his spot on the back of the ambulance to see Keith racing toward him, face deeply flushed and chest heaving as if he’s just run straight from work. 

“Keith,” Lance starts as the boy gets closer. “What-”

“Are you alright? Shiro called me and told me everything! What the hell were you doing in a flower shop if you’re severely allergic?” 

Lance’s gaze finds the cracked pavement of the small parking lot once more just as his shoulders slump enough to have the small blanket that’s draped over his shoulders slip down some. “I wanted to get you flowers for the date,” he mutters. 

For an endless moment, Keith is silent, but Lance cannot find the courage to pull his gaze back up. He’s so sure that this sealed his fate. Why would Keith want to be with him now? Why would-

“You’re insane.” 

It’s not the words that have Lance snapping a quick gaze up, it’s the light tone laced with concern. “You aren’t mad,” he says, voice forming a statement and not a question. There’s nothing displayed across Keith’s face that shows anger in the slightest. 

“What? No. Jesus, Lance. No. I’m just worried.” 

The sincerity in Keith’s tone has Lance’s eyes welling with tears. He struggles to form words, but luckily, he doesn’t have to because Shiro is walking toward them with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. 

In an instance, Keith spins on his heel and promptly blocks Lance from the flowers. “Shiro, what-”

“They’re fake.” 

Lance leans over to peek around Keith’s protective stance. “What?” 

“We have some fake flower in the back,” Shiro explains, handing the bouquet to Keith for inspection. 

Lance shifts his gaze to the fake flowers in Keith’s hands. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Shiro offers a quiet nod before taking his leave. 

“How about a date in tonight?” Keith suggests, thumbing a fake rose as he turns back to Lance. “I can cook you a nice dinner than we can watch a movie.” 

Lance doesn’t want to admit the exhaustion that’s settled over him after this whole ordeal, but Keith can see it without having to ask. Both know Lance wouldn’t make it through the dinner and movie tonight, not after an asthma attack of that severity. 

Nodding, Lance slowly slips off the back of the ambulance, abandoning the small blanket in favor of finding Keith’s hand with his own. 

“That sounds nice.” 

I didn’t feel a Thing - [Eggsy Unwin X Reader]

[Damn okay, this one is long I’m sorry lol. Hope you like it though! As always, I planned something else but wound up here lol. I tried REALLY hard to accommodate all of your requests here, so I hope I satisfied you Nonny wherever you are!!! Hopefully this is good cause I spent so much time on it I can’t even tell anymore hahah <3 ALSO SORRY FOR LOST TYPOS AFTER AWHILE THEY JUST BLUR hahaha 

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader 

Words: 3.1… I’m hella sorry,  lol

Plot: You get shot and things are not looking good. Sweet babe Eggsy just doesn’t know what to do cause, he just likes you so much!!! XD As most of my stuff the name ‘Tristan’ has been adopted as your codename!

–Read on Ao3!]

If there was one thing you could say about getting shot, it was that it didn’t suck as bad as you thought it would. For having seen so many people be gunned down (and honestly doing some of it yourself) you’d have expected it to be a bit more painful, or dramatic even. But this experience, wasn’t really like that.

You didn’t scream, you didn’t cry… Actually, to be honest you didn’t even fucking notice it.

Which was about as reassuring as being shot in the fucking chest could be, but beggars can’t be choosers can they?

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kapower  asked:

I'm a slut for your writing so how about like a progession from 52,73,151, to 184? If not, any of the above would be adorbs in your writing bae😙💕

Thunderstorm Revelations

Pairing; Nalu

Word Count; 2417

A/N; BAE I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMFG. But thanks for the prompt!! <3

52: “ Can we cuddle? ”

73: “ Oh, Are you ticklish? ”

151: “ I can’t feel my legs! ”

184: “ Can I touch you? ”

Natsu sat in the center of the sofa, one of Lucy’s books perched on his knee as he flipped through it absentmindedly. Lucy was always weird about him reading her stuff, and so he tried to wait until at least the third draft before sneaking a look at it. Lucy had been in a rut, however, and so Natsu was forced to reread her previous chapters to fend off his boredom.

Magnolia was all but shut down under the heavy thunderstorm outside, Lucy and Natsu trapped in her apartment on Strawberry Street as it had been closer than the guild. She had sent a lacrima message to the guild, letting everyone know her and Natsu were safe but wouldn’t be going to the guild that day. Happy had been especially upset, needing to be talked down from flying through the storm by Lucy. Natsu had been forced to bribe the exceed with the promise of all of Natsu’s catch next time they went fishing.

Natsu sighed loudly, leaning his head against the back of Lucy’s sofa and closing his eyes. She had been drying off for forever, and Natsu didn’t understand why he couldn’t have just dried her off himself. Lucy was so weird she had squawked and turned bright red at his offer, and now she was wasting time drying her hair when they could be playing cards.

A loud boom outside caught Natsu’s attention, the thunder harsh and sudden when he wasn’t watching the flashes of lighting outside the window. The lights flickered overhead, Natsu mentally threatening them if they went out. Lucy got all antsy in the dark with him, which bothered Natsu. She knew he would never try anything, didn’t she?

Besides, it wasn’t like Lucy was even aware of how Natsu felt.

Natsu cocked his head, tracking the soft padding of Lucy’s socked feet walking towards him.

Another crack of thunder rang in the sky, and Natsu opened his eyes with a frown when he sensed Lucy tense beside him. She looked pale, half dried hair thrown in a messy braid and large shirt trailing to her mid thigh.

“Can we cuddle?” Lucy asked, voice timid as she looked at her hands clasped in front of her. Natsu opened his mouth to ask her why she wanted to cuddle when a third boom shook the small apartment, Lucy flinching and curling into herself at the noise.

“Course, weirdo.” Natsu said instead, grinning at her easily. She smiled at him, shy and thankful in response as she slipped onto the couch beside him. Natsu shifted them around, his back now tucked into the corner of the couch and Lucy curled under his arm. She squeaked and pressed into his side firmly when the power shut off, the room falling into pitch blackness while the sky roared.

Natsu ran a comforting hand over Lucy’s back, soothing her small shakes as he tried to think. It had never occurred to Natsu that Lucy might be afraid of thunderstorms, and frankly he didn’t know what to say.

“You, er, alright, Luce?” Natsu asked, watching her face in the dark. The pale light coming from the window behind them was all Natsu needed to easily see in the room, but obviously from the unfocused expression she wore it wasn’t enough for Lucy.

“I’m fine Natsu. Just… don’t like thunder.” Lucy tried to brush off, but another loud crack of thunder sent her head burrowing into Natsu’s chest in fear.

“I think it’s more than a little dislike there, Luce.” Natsu commented dryly, tightening his arm around her and pulling her closer as he spoke.

“Oh shut up.” Lucy exhaled, hand relaxing as she bickered with Natsu. He grinned to himself, proud his plan had worked. He tensed as he sensed the change in the atmosphere, squeezing Lucy tight as a flash of lightning lit up the room, quickly followed by the booming thunder. Natsu looked over her face, tracing the tired pinching and tenseness she held on her face, thinking she was concealed by the dark.

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@arabian-batboy said: Can you write something where Bruce comes across Jason in an alley after his resurrection but before Talia took him in & since he couldn’t talk at that time (& because he’s supposed to be dead) Bruce thinks it’s just a hallucination and just leaves him?


It had been a long time since Bruce was afraid of ghosts, mostly because they never left him alone. If this one seemed more real than usual, hey, it had been a rough day.

Always was, this time of year. 

April 27th. Bruce liked to think he was getting better— maybe some year he wouldn’t find himself lurking in Crime Alley on today, the anniversary of Jason’s death— but he wasn’t there yet.

It made sense. How was he supposed to forget Jason? That was what it would take, Bruce knew, to leave the guilt behind. Every time Jason crossed his mind, it all came crashing back: the grief and shame and pain in his chest. 

Flashbacks, sometimes. Hallucinations.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see his dead son lying on the cobblestones. It was bound to happen today. 

Bruce took a deep breath. It was time for another hell ride through his own subconsciousness. What would it be this time?

Older, he thought— this Jason looked older, the age he would be if he had lived. That was normal; Bruce spent a lot of time imagining Jason alive and growing up. This Jason looked like he had been on the street for a long time, and Bruce could explain that too; they’d met on this spot when Jason was young and homeless. Of course he was remembering that day. 

Bruce blinked away the image of Jason, small and defiant, sprinting towards the mouth of the alley with his tire iron. Who hit the Batman with a tire iron? Jason did. Jason was…

Well, Jason was dead. Jason had been extraordinary— brave, bright, explosive, kind— but he was gone, and the illusion on the pavement was just that: an illusion. A memory. Bruce’s mind playing tricks.

The punishment he deserved. He could feel it beginning like it always did, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his fingertips, his chest, rooting him to the stone underneath him until he couldn’t run— not that he should run. He hadn’t saved Jason. The least he could do was feel it.

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Late Night Love//(S.M)

I was falling asleep, but the movement Shawn was causing kept waking me up. He would switch positions and groan in annoyance, for I was getting fed up. “Shawn stop moving!” I say in full frustration turning around to look at him. “sorry” he mutters a frown on his face as he sees my expression. I immedatly feel guilty and move towards him wrapping my arms around his bare torso. “Shawn? Baby what’s wrong?” I ask worried as he doesn’t say anything. I nudge him in the ribs and try to turn him over on his back, but nothing works until Shawn decides to talk. “I’m hungry” he says a low moan falling from his lips. I laugh a little as he says this causing him to let out a small whine. “That’s it? Come on get ready I will take us to the Bakery down town” I tell Shawn placing a kiss on his shoulder and standing up. Shawn shifts onto his back looking at me with a wide grin and his eyes are big. “Nana’s Delicacies?” he asks throwing what ever is on the floor over his body, I nod as he finishes getting dressed. Shawn runs down the stairs and takes the car keys from the bowl and walks out of the house. I run to catch up with him after locking the door, and Shawn gets into the passenger seat handing me the keys. I reverse out of our driveway and start heading down town and I turn my head to see Shawn and he is bouncing his leg up and down. “baby you okay?” I ask as we near Nana’s Delicacies and Shawn’s sends me a smile before looking at the window. Once we enter the bakery the waitress asks us what we would like, Shawn asks for two blueberry muffins and I only ask for coffee. As the pastires are brought to our table Shawn is on his phone barely paying attention to the muffins infront of him. “Y/N, baby, sweetheart” Shawn says as I finally look up. His phone is pointing at me and I send him a smile before reaching over and taking a muffin. As I’m eating Shawn starts talking to no one in particular. “Y/N is the best girlfriend any one could have as for she’s awake at 2 am” Shawn says and I'm  guessing he is on snapchat. “Shawn stop what ever you’re doing and eat your muffins” I tell him as he starts to play footsie with me under the table. Before I know Shawn switches seats and is on my side of the booth. His head is on my shoulder as he stuffs a piece of muffin in his mouth. One of Shawn’s hands intertwine with mine as he continues to eat. “Didn’t I order two?” He asks looking towards the waitress. He turns towards me and sees me taking the last bite of his second muffin. “Hey that’s mine” he says placing his hand under my chin as if he could prevent it from going in my mouth. I chew it very slowly and make a small moaning sound as he stares at me with a playful glare. “Sorry” I tell him kissing his cheek. “Good thing your cute or else I would have been extremely mad” he tells me hand in my knee squeezing every couple seconds. “Being oddly touchy today” I tell him a he places kisses on my cheek. “How can I not when your the queen of my world” he says resuming playing footsie with me under the table. Shawn takes his phone out again and puts on Snapchat. He goes straight to the filters putting in the dog. “Baby brought me to Nana’s Delicacies at 2 in the morning” he places a kiss on my lips before the snap ends. He starts another video as I go up and pay for the pastries and coffee. “Y/N! Baby!” Shawn calls out and the waitress just laughs “I think he’s tired” she stares as I look back and Shawn is trying so hard to keep his eyes open. When I approach the table again he starts another snap. “My queen is ignoring me and my heart took a major hit” he says grabbing his heart and pretending to be shot. “Oh please,” I say into the camera when he faces it towards me. “Come on let’s go sleepy head” I tell him intertwining our hands together and placing a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go! Got to get your cute ass home before another guy does” Shawn says lifting over his shoulder. “Shawn ” I squeal as I see he has Snapchat on again and facing me. “Got this cutie by my side, now I’m coming home to a sexy lady every night— you come home to me every night any ways” I interrupt him turning my head. Shawn playful slaps my bum a few seconds before it ends. “Okay put me down, so I can get your sleepy handsome self home” I tell him as he sets me down as I take out the keys he pulls me against him. “Baby?” “Yes?” “I love your cute self” Shawn whispers into my ear before kissing my exposed neck. “I love you too, Shawn” I tell him placing a kiss on his lips. He pulls away and gets in the car leaving me to shake my head. On the drive home Shawn’s head is on my shoulder as he slowly sings Every Time We Touch by Cassandra. Shawn uses his hand to add a visual to the song and at one point he leans back in his seat. The song changes to Grind On Me and thankfully we are at a stop at the traffic lights seeing as they are red. Shawn unbuckled his seat belt and stands up a little when grind on me lyrics starts he actually starts to grind into the air. I giggle as I see him sending me suggestive winks and a smirk on his face. A car horn is heard and I look up at the traffic lights to see it had turned green. “Wow that was fun” Shawn says trying to catch his breath as we park in our drive way. “Yep fun to see” I tell getting out of the car. Shawn runs behind picking me up and taking the keys away from me and opens the door. He sets me down and runs up to the room with me falling him. I go into the room and see him laying in the bed. “Ay baby what does that ass do!” Shawn says as I change back into my pajamas. “This girl with an ass is going to sleep” I tell him as I snuggle into his chest. “I hope so cause a cutie like you deserves a cutie like me” Shawn says with a sleepy voice and his hands caressing my back. “Go to sleep baby” I whisper into his chest my eyes slowly closing also. He hums in response and cuddles me closer. He’s a handful sometimes, but I love when he is all lovey dovey.

So more on Dexter Grif (season 15 episode 6 spoilers)

Remember back in season 10 when Doc was giving his speech on the good stuff that happened to everyone thanks to Project Freelancer and all adventures of the Reds and Blues? The only two people he hadn’t addressed had been Caboose – who lost Church, and Grif. It might have been because Grif got the, well, Grifshot. Or maybe because he never got what he truly wanted and… After now I think about that a lot.

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anonymous asked:

headcanon for KBTBB what each bidder does on a day off with mc

this is rlly cute!!

Eisuke:

  • Both of them rarely ever have free schedules, so Eisuke wants to make the most out of their free time!
  • Eisuke would go all-out for sure, this Extra Boi™
  • Like, the moment MC wakes up, there’s already breakfast in bed and MC’s like ???!!!
  • “of course mc if you wanna skip breakfast and continue where we left off last night, that’s perfectly fine with me ;)”
  • MC chucks a pillow at his face
  • The first thing on his list is to go all the best boutiques and buy MC a fuckton of clothes
  • “eisuke don’t you think this is too much” “you look good in everything, so i’ll buy everything what’s wrong with that”
  • MC wants to watch a movie, so Eisuke ends up renting out the entire cinema because he’s that Extra™
  • Plus he can get Nasty without other people knowing
  • They have dinner at a really fancy place and Eisuke’s secretly gushing at how MC seems to love the food. He even takes a stealthy pic of her eating tiramisu lmao
  • When they get home, Eisuke gets Extra Nasty until dawn and poor MC can’t walk straight

Soryu:

  • He pleasantly wakes up to the smell of MC’s omelettes
  • So Soryu sneaks up on her and hugs her from behind
  • “Delicious.”
  • “The omelettes?”
  • “Those, too.” ;))))))
  • They end up driving to the beach and walking along the shore
  • Of course, Soryu turns his phone off so no one can disturb them lmao
  • MC starts going around to collect seashells and Soryu silently thanks every living deity for giving him such an adorable girlfriend
  • They end up swimming for a bit and MC has to marvel at how ripped her boyfriend is
  • Turns out Soryu had dinner by the beach prepared beforehand this cutie
  • He’s blushing as he pulls out the chair for her
  • They both end up having such a blissfully good time that day, so much so that the Ice Dragons can’t figure out why their boss keeps smiling like he won the lottery

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Close As Strangers l Shawn Mendes Imagine.

(a/n): thanks to the anon who requested this, though I apologize because it’s not very good but I really wanted to post something. anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

prompt: so tell me are we wasting time, talking on a broken line? (based on the song “Close As Strangers” by 5 Seconds of Summer.)

Originally posted by pickeringgod

Touring was hard.

It was hard because after some time, everything became so repetitive; the same songs, same stage, same routine.

There were days Shawn didn’t even know in which city he was in, he had to be remembered minutes before heading to the stage so he wouldn’t screw up and say the name of a different city.

it was hard but he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the other hand, touring was hard for you, his girlfriend, who struggled every day with compensating your daily life with your boyfriend gone.

The first days he was on tour were hard, yet not the hardest. You could still smell his perfume on your sheets, he could still feel your velvet skin against his hand. The phone calls didn’t sound forced, it was quite the opposite, actually, and you laughed at silly things that didn’t carry much importance.

But now it was six weeks since he’d been away, and the both of you could tell everything had changed.

You didn’t notice when his smell didn’t linger on your sheets anymore until it just wasn’t there.

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fuckfuckfuck this is sooo late. writer’s block completely crashed into me and screwed me over. i don’t know how to write anymore i’m sorry D: 

prompt fill for the fantastic @prompt-master​!! <3


“–Jeremy? You’re spacing out.”

Michael regrets the words when he sees Jeremy’s shoulders tense up, his whole body going rigid. “Shit, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, I–” Jeremy swerves around to face his best friend, blinking owlishly. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

Michael studies him closely. He seems fine, but the blue of his eyes is a bit duller than usual–an airy blue adulterated with gray, like a sky anticipating a rainstorm. It’s a little concerning. His eyes only look like that when he’s sad. Or tired.

“Are you okay?”

Jeremy blinks, clearly startled by the question. “What? Yeah. I’m–good. I’m great.” He smiles–thank god it’s a genuine smile–and Michael relaxes just a little. 

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