i hear the voices that will not be drowned

The signs as song lyrics I've written

Aries:
Never been in a fight but I want to fight
Fight a bitch at night
The dark is cool
Fuck school
Wanna destroy everything
Including you

Taurus:
Just woke up messy hair
Attitude I don’t care
Should i even get up and start the day
Does it matter if i do shit anyway

Gemini:
Thought, thought, thought,
I thought if I thought a lot
Maybe my thoughts could learn to stop
I feel my brain beginning to rot
They are so fucking loud
Overcrowd
All around
Up and down
I’m starting to look like a fucking clown

Cancer:
What am I feeling right now?
I feel like a drifting cloud
Full of storm water
Today rain is all I’ve got to offer
What’s wrong with me?
Changing tides like the sea
I can be a deadly storm
A catastrophe
Or calm and cool, my bottom lurking with things unseen

Leo:
I love the way you fuck me 
Baby this is how you want me, thirsty 
I beg love me love me 
Love me more than i love you 
At night i feel so ugly

Virgo:
But not you, youre alive not dead
I hear all the voices that go on it your head
They never calm but you find peace in them
Taking their words of wisdom
They sing inside your lovely mind
You hum along, intertwined

Libra:
I’m sitting in front of the man of my dreams
Love his dick, give me that cream
His face is amazing, it makes me want to sing
His voice is as lovely spring

Scorpio:
Sometimes I think I see god
But then I open my eyes and it’s the same shit all around
Breath in the toxins of a cigarette
It’s all I got sometimes, wanna drown out the sound
Talk to a few and that’s fun
But real quick im done

Sagittarius:
If I could see your soul, I’m sure it’d be a work of art
Like a painting on a canvas, painted by the heart
You know you’re a masterpiece
A genius in disguise
I wish I could see what you see through your eyes

Capricorn:
If there’s one last thing
I gotta sing
it’s that there’s no possibly
Just possible I am the unstoppable
Incomparable hear these words and know it’s me
I do not go unseen
(This one’s written by my boyfriend)

Aquarius:
I’m so tired everyday
I want life to be so extraordinary that more than half the time I wouldnt know what to feel or say
Wheres my burning passion?
Melancholy, my minds gray.
Why care when you feel useless why give a fuck, this world is strange

Pisces:
You got me and you got me down for you and you only
Baby, look at me, I want you to be the one to own me
Devil or angel, you’re my sweet, lovely baby.
Tell me angel, have you looked in a mirror lately?

Little Do You Know: 1

Pairing: TJ Hammond x fem!Reader

Story SummarySoulmate AU. On your 21st birthday, you begin to hear the innermost thoughts of your soulmate. What will happen when your soulmate just so happens to be a drug addict struggling to recover? Did I mention that he may or may not be incredibly gay?

Warnings: Addiction, language, brief sexual content, drugs, emotional abuse, Bud being a fucking perv as usual and making women feel uncomfortable

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you all enjoy the first part of this, I know its a little slow, but i promise part 2 will have more TJ in it. Shout out to the glorious @plumfondler , without her, this would probably just be another unfinished story in my drafts. If you like it, let me know! I’m currently working on part 2.




You’re fine. You’re fine. You don’t need it.

His voice was something you’d grown used to over the past 5 years.

Maybe just a little bump. Just a little one.

Your soul-mate had an issue with drugs, one that he was trying to overcome, and you’d always get caught in his inner battle to stay sober.

You wished this worked both ways, that you could talk him down from it, it seemed like the only time he could hear you is when he was high.

That, or he was just very good at ignoring you.


It’s going to be okay. You don’t need it. Just breathe.’ You thought, closing your eyes and concentrating, as if doing that would make your message more clear to him, but his voice rang through your mind again.


I need it.’

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bookie-wookiee  asked:

I have a burning question. Do you think Belle and Adam are okay during the French Revolution? If we assume the BATB story takes place mid-1700s they'll be in their 60s during the revolution. I just need them to be fine!

I’m such a horrible person for not replying to this sooner. I’m so sorry! Hope you didn’t burn up in anticipation :/

Here are my thoughts on the subject:

It is, in the end, a Disney movie, and we all know what that means for historical accuracy. Do I think the writers imagined Belle and Adam being executed during the French Revolution? No. Because it’s Disney. As for my personal headcanon, that depends on whether or not Adam is THE Prince or simply A prince (as in the noble title Prince from the time period). Personally, I’d like to think he’s not a royal, but only a nobleman. Evidence of this is the fact that his father is dead and he’s above age to take the throne (in the 2017 adaptation at least) when he’s cursed, and yet everyone still calls him Prince. If he were a royal he’d be King. He’d also be living in Versailles, but that’s another story.

So if Prince = nobleman (and not royal) that means they’re not as likely to die as they would be otherwise. I also consider Villeneuve and the surrounding towns to be small enough for their little society in “the hidden heart of France” that the smallfolk wouldn’t be able to gather strong enough forces to take the castle. Nor do I think they’d want to since most of the villagers have family that work at the castle that have grown close to both Adam and Belle. Belle was also a commoner before she married Adam so that has to be taken into account as well. I also imagine that because of all of this (and the curse) Belle and Adam are very generous rulers and they host a few balls/parties at the castle for the villagers and commoners, so I think the people in the area are living a good life and they’re close enough with Belle and Adam to not want to harm them. And if there are people who would, then I can’t imagine there’d be too many of them and pretty soon their voices would drown out.

Worst case scenario is that the commoners do indeed storm the castle. In that case I imagine the servants would hear about it and warn them and Belle and Adam would run away into the countryside and hide their noble blood by living the rest of their lives as commoners, or perhaps live in exile in England or another nearby country.

Hope that answered your burning question! Again, so sorry for taking so much time to answer this. If it took too long, might I suggest a nice dose of aloe vera for the burns? (that was so tacky I’m sorry)

All the best from me

Originally posted by liomessis

Don't Repeat History

I couldn’t help myself ;u;

Important stuff:

Ok, I’m done. I did this like, in half and hour and stuff so it’s pretty simple but yeah. *Shrugs* 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me and neither does the AU.


The words leave him before he could stop himself.

“This is the Blue Lion?” He asks, voice small as he stares up at the big lion in front of him, something inside him urging him to come closer but he pushes it back stubbornly.

Allura nods besides him, a pleased smile on her face. “Yes, you used to be her paladin. The Blue Lion is known to be one of the friendliest of Lions; your bond with her has been so strong since the beginning, never wavering in the least. It is said that –”

Lance tunes Allura’s voice down, leaving behind a faint ringing noise in his ears as he stares wide eyed at Blue’s motionless eyes.

He feels a tug inside him one more time and this time he winces, feeling it more physically than mental.

The ringing turns into purrs and soft growling and Lance breathing come out short as he watches Blue’s dim eyes lighten up with life.

One, two, three ticks and then it’s like Blue’s eyes snap open and images fill his head.

He can’t make sense of anything. The faces are blurred, the noises that start as laughter turn into painful screams and sobs. Every feeling overwhelms him: there’s anxiety, excitement, stubbornness, determination, pride, love.

There’s relief. There’s a soft comfort feeling in the back of his head but it’s not enough to calm his breathing, to ease his tense shoulder and beating heart.

Lance vaguely notices that he started shaking, barely hearing the muffled drowned voice of Allura near him, calling to him, asking for him.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he doesn’t bothers to. He just needs to go, there’s too much around him and inside him. He can’t be here, he can’t deal with this, he needs to leave.

He needs to leave.

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believememylove  asked:

Please, I love when you write for Jack Wilder. Also I just rewatched both of the Now you see me movies and am dying for new stuff

WELL SINCE YOU SAID PLEASE. Basing this off of one of my earlier headcanons!

Imagine Jack just listening to you talk, and before you know it, he’s mastered your voice and he uses it when he’s playing around and mocks you.

Title: Voices.
Pairing: Jack Wilder x Reader.
Words: 1069.
Rating: T.


“I’m just saying,” Jack stated rather proudly with a cocky grin that tilted to the left side. His dimple showed itself momentarily and left a warm feeling flutter in your chest as it always had a way of melting even the coldest of hearts. “Imitating voices are easy. I could teach you, if you wanted.” With a flick of his wrist, he sent the deck of cards resting in his hands into a frenzy before relaxing them once again. His fingers continued to tap against them. Being stuck in one place, in what would be considered ‘intense hiding’ was doing absolutely nothing for his restlessness. Sitting in an armchair, his legs dangling over the side with the occasional kick of his feet in a sporadic rhythm. He held himself with such a casual confidence it left you feeling vaguely jealous and wondering as to how he accomplished such a slacked appearance.

Jack gazed up at you with deep brown eyes. The sun sunk through the window across from where he was sitting, accentuating the curves of his face and lightning his eyes so they appeared a shade or two lighter than they actually were. His eyelashes framed his eyes and seemed to be on fire as the sunlight dripped onto his skin. Jack’s eyes spoke many things at once but the most prominent emotion happened to be on the more mischievous side. He flicked his wrist once again and the rapid movement of the deck of cards brought you back into reality, away from the seemingly inevitable daydream sitting across from you. “Have you really heard my voice enough to imitate me?” You finally inquired moments after being mesmerized by him.

Jack’s face faltered for a moment as he thought about it, that once beautiful smirk dipping into a slight frown before turning into a full on smile. It was a dramatic change of facial expressions which was something he was also good at executing. A soft chuckle left his parted lips and with a gentle clearing of his throat, he began speaking. “Yeah, I’d like to think I listen to you. Even when you don’t know it.”

“What do you mean?” You laughed quietly, fixing your eyes on the cards on his hands. “Even when I don’t know it?”

“Yesterday,” He used as an example, “when you were talking to Danny in the kitchen. You were complaining. I’m glad you were, I wasn’t sure what you would have sounded like when complaining. Even when you complain to me, it sounds different.”

Raising your eyebrows in amusement, you smiled and asked, “What do I sound like when I’m complaining?”

Your request seemed to amuse him as he brought his legs down and propped himself properly on the armchair. His shirt rode up for a few seconds with his movement, catching your eyes. Resting his hands on his thighs, Jack leaned forward and shot a more heated grin at you this time. You caught his eyes this time and kept them locked before Jack opened his mouth. He laughed while you expecting to hear him speak. Biting down on his bottom lip, Jack’s smile twirled into a childish expression. “I can’t do it with you staring at me like that. So much pressure.”

He was playing around, you could tell from the tone of voice he had used. Slightly raised and a bit more frantic. “Please.” You laughed your plea and covered your mouth.

Jack laughed as well, looking to the side before clearing his throat once again. “Please.” The sound that came out of his mouth was one that sounded exactly like you did. As strange as it was as well, Jack had moved his face in a gesture that mimicked your expressions..

“I don’t sound like that, do I?” You gasped, throwing your head back in a chuckle.

“I don’t sound like that, do I?” Jack’s voice dipped back to normal at the end of the sentence. He couldn’t control himself from laughing. “You really do sound like that.”

“How awful.” You grimaced playfully.

“Awful?” Jack’s face scrunched into disbelief. “I think you sound cute. Trust me (Name), I spend my nights sitting in bed trying to talk like you, but for the longest time I couldn’t get it just right.” Jack stood up, resting the deck of cards on the table in the middle of the living room. He took a few steps towards you, his heavy boots pattering against the floor as he did. There was no logical sense in being dressed with when you were in hiding, but still Jack found himself getting up and getting ready. It was a precautionary thing, he told you once, you always have to be ready to run. “There’s just something about your voice that I can’t seem to grasp.”

“Maybe you didn’t practice enough.” You teased.

“Nah.” He shrugged his slender shoulders and sat next to you on the loveseat. Gesturing with his hands, he rolled his hand from his throat to you and admitted, “Your voice has a quality that I can’t imitate just right. I guess I love you too much, so it makes it hard to imitate that sort of emotion.” This was something you knew but hearing him say it was something that left you feeling weak in the knees. You were thankful you were sitting because you were sure if you were standing you would have fallen completely. Jack seemed a bit more bashful now as he let that be said. His cheeks held a soft pink color and his eyes were staring straight forward.

It was your turn to shrug your shoulders as you fiddled with your fingers, “Why would that matter?”

“Because I like the way your voice sounds when you speak.” He turned his attention to you finally, his dark brown eyes drowning into yours. His body leaned towards you, “I like the way you talk to me. You don’t talk to anyone else they same way.”

Smiling cutely, you brushed two fingers across his right eyebrow before dropping them down his cheek, “That’s because I love you too much.”

Jack nodded and bit his bottom lip while tipping his head towards your fingers, “You can copy my phrases but you still sound nothing like me.”

“I don’t want to sound like you.” You admitted, “I don’t want anyone to sound like you, Jack. I love the way you sound…”


I’M BACK GUYS. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Hope you liked!

The Justice League is Bad at Disguises
Waiting4Codot

THE JUSTICE LEAGUE IS BAD AT DISGUISES
Superman, Batman, and The Flash

This was just a fun exchange that popped into my head when I was drowning myself in the shower.

I’m messing around with Superman at the moment, I enjoy giving him a Warburton sound when he’s Clark, and toning it back a bit when he’s Superman. It makes it easier to have Clark as the clumsy reporter with a voice like that. Still a WIP.

Also, yes, all Barrys talk to themselves like that. DC, Archer, everything ever.

[Transcript Below]

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Brother’s Best Friend - Dylan O’Brien [Smut] (Teen AU)

Author: @writing-obrien

Character(S): Dylan O’Brien/Reader, Brother!Tyler Posey, Daniel Sharman

Word Count: 3153

Notes: Fingering, Oral (female receiving), shower sex, this is much shorter than my usual works - excluding my first two or three works - and it didn’t really take the direction I had originally intended, but it’s cute and I was in a cute mood, let me live. Huge thanks to @stilinski-jpeg​ for her help on proofreading this. She’s my #SinTwin and I don’t know where I would be without her, I love you, Nia!! We all know how much I love drummer!Dylan so lets go fucking overdrive.

Originally posted by alwaysbeu


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Life in Color (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Modern AU. An artist in every sense of the word, Bucky sees color in everything, vibrant as they fill his world with magic. What happens when the colors fade? - @mellifluous-melodramas

Word Count: 649

Note: Really Bella? Another series? Yes. Another series. I am irresponsible and have zero impulse control. 

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

Five words. That’s all it took it break Bucky’s heart.

Five small words that held so much weight that they crushed him entirely on what should have been the best night of his life. He could hear them echoing around in his head, drowning out any other thought he could possibly have. Her voice was all he could hear, even though the words hadn’t been spoken. That part almost made it worse, that he had to guess at what she was feeling. Was she sad? Relieved? Angry? He played the words with different inflections, different tones, even though he should’ve known that she would’ve sounded just as indifferent as her text message felt.

I can’t do this anymore.

That’s all she had said. “I can’t do this anymore.” She didn’t care. She was just done.

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CryBaby

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Unnamed Abusive Ex, Dean Winchester, Shape-Shifter

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Oral on female. DD/lg relationship. Abuse. Nightmares. Fluffy as well as Smutty. Violence. I think that’s it.

Words: 2,416

Author’s Note: So this is my first time writing DD/lg and I wanna do a big thank you to @daddys-kitten-princess24 for helping me with the DD/lg dynamics to make sure I wasn’t offending anyone. I really enjoyed writing this, and there may or may not be more fics like this coming in the future. ;) (I got the fic title from Melanie Martinez’s song CryBaby, but the fic really has nothing to do with the song) Link to song

“STOP, Y/N!” The voice ringing out forces me to stand abruptly, tears prickling in my eyes.

“What is it, Da-”

“Don’t call me that! I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you!” He screams, and the tears spill out of my eyes at his harsh words.

“Stop crying! You’re such a crybaby!!”

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2

C R O O K E D KINGDOM

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. The storm raged around him, drowning out Nina’s voice. And yet his heart was easy. Somehow he knew that she would be safe, she would find shelter from the cold. He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

Farvell,” she said in Fjerdan. “May Djel watch over you until I can once more.”

I AM SO INTO THIS SHIT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I tried to make them kinda different, but in the end they still wound up pretty similar, Please Forgive.

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When you think about it, it’s a bit fucked up how autistic people are ALWAYS supposed to accommodate NTs’ needs and expectations, no matter what it can cost us. They want us to act like them, to be like them and if we try to do otherwise, it’s almost criminal.

Break time at work is one of those expectations. You’re supposed to share your break time with your coworkers, to talk with them, to actively participate to whatever conversation they’re into and to look like you’re actually interested. 

But, like… It’s a break. It’s supposed to allow us to rest our minds and our bodies a little bit. We’re supposed to feel better after that and to be ready to work again. But I don’t feel rested after these breaks. I’m not feeling less stressed. On the contrary, I’m anxious and tired as hell.

There are at least 3 conversations at the same time. I can’t focus on one of them, because I’m hearing all of them at the exact same volume and the voices are mixing together into an unbearable noise, barely understandable. 

I just want to move my legs, to put my hands on my ears and to stim vocally because it’s what usually help me to drown the noise.

But I can’t. Because it would be weird. Because it would shatter my Neurotypical mask. Because break time is supposed to be fun and to enhance relationships between colleagues. 

You don’t participate or you’re not doing it in the right way ? It means you’re not a Team Player and it’s bad. Like bad enough to get you fired.

Sigh… Sometimes, I just want to scream to make them stop. To enjoy a little bit of silence. I have this fantasy scene playing in my mind, over and over :

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

[gif of Chandler from the tv show “Friends”. He’s hiding behind a couch and he’s screaming at the tops of his lungs “Shut up !!! Shut up !!! Shut up !!!”]

But of course, I can’t do that. I just have to… deal with it. And to have some spoons to spare only for break time. The break time where i’m supposed to feel rested… Sigh.

Mute Part 13

Part 12

Genre: Fluff
Words: 4,059 (oops)
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: The fluffiest smut you will ever read, blood
Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do when traumatizing events result in your witty remarks dying down to nothing.


Before you knew what was happening, Bucky had pushed you to the ground, covering your body with his own. You could hear a rapid fire of gunshots going on around you, and you rushed to move forward to take cover. Bucky could surely feel you attempting to move from under him, so he let on his weight slightly, still covering you as you both ran behind the bar.

Screams and cries were echoing off the walls, urging you to hurry your actions further as you pulled a large knife out from one of the drawers.

“How many are there?” You looked up at Bucky as he tried to scope out the area. He turned to you at your words, eyeing the weapon in your hands.

“No, you’re staying here.”

Before you could retaliate, Bucky was over the counter, diving into battle and leaving you to scope out the enemy for yourself. Fine.

You noted the number of guards, their protective gear, and weapons, and watched them fight off the Avengers who were coming to the rescue. You took mental notes before nodding to yourself and sliding over the counter, landing right behind an enemy.

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Post-Rescue Kara and Alex (on guilt and on love)

She flew Maggie there.

She could tell Maggie hated it.

She could tell Maggie wanted to throw up.

She could tell because she could hear Maggie’s heartbeat, she could feel Maggie’s stomach roiling.

She could tell because she wanted to throw up, too.

And when they found her?

When they found her, and she spilled out of the water, the longest moment of Kara’s entire life was the moment before Alex did the most beautiful thing Alex had ever done.

Coughed.

She’d held on.

She’d held on.

She’d held on.

And now Maggie was holding on to her, and Alex was holding on to Maggie, and Kara knows that this morning, she would have been jealous. This morning, she would have been territorial. This morning, she would have been angry.

Because this morning, Maggie was an arrogant cop who only barely deserved her sister.

But right now? Maggie is the woman who loves her sister so much that she saved her.

No.

They saved her.

Together.

And Kara? Kara will never look at Maggie the same way again.

But she needs Alex. Just Alex. 

She needs her sister.

Because Alex is breathing, breathing, breathing, and they’re loading her onto a stretcher but Kara doesn’t want that. Kara just wants to fly her home, fly her home in her own arms, because she never wants Alex to leave her arms again.

And she doesn’t.

Because the medics must know.

They must know that if they try to pry either Maggie or Kara away from Alex’s barely conscious form, all hell will break loose.

So they work around the women.

The women who love her most in the world.

It takes hours for Alex to rouse from when she passes out on the way back to the DEO.

Hours during which James and Winn have to pry Kara from her side so she can eat, so she can rest, so she can breathe, breathe, breathe.

But only after, of course, they’ve done their share of touching her, of crying over her and pretending they’re not, of watching her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, because she’s only sleeping, only resting, not dead, not dead, very much not dead.

J’onn tries to reason with Maggie. James tries to reason with Maggie. Winn tries to reason with Maggie.

She won’t move from the room.

Kara decides that Alex is adequately protected.

So she lets Winn and James take her away, take her to get out of her suit, to shower, to eat, to try, just for a moment, to breathe.

And when she checks in on her sister less than an hour later – they couldn’t keep her (or themselves) away longer than that – she’s awake, and she’s busy.

Busy making out with the woman who loves her, busy wiping tears from Maggie’s eyes, from her own eyes, in between open mouthed kisses, in between foreheads pressed against each other and I love yous whispered over and over and over again.

Kara smiles, and Kara nods, and Kara waits.

She waits, and she waits, and she waits, and she wonders vaguely how someone who just nearly drowned can possibly kiss someone for that long, but then again, if anyone can figure out a way, it’s her sister. 

Her sister who’s alive, alive, alive.

“Kara,” she hears, and Alex’s voice is weak. Weak and somehow strong at the same time.

Weak with exhaustion and weak with tears and weak with something that sounds an awful lot like happiness. Like relief. Like being alive, alive, alive.

She crosses into the room so fast it blows Maggie’s hair back, blows Alex back with an oof onto the bed, and Kara apologizes desperately, but Alex just wheezes a laugh and pats the bed next to her. 

Maggie stands and then bends to kiss Alex’s hand – one knuckle at a time, slow, staring into her eyes the entire time, and Kara thinks with a jolt of Lena before shoving the thought away – and then she’s touching Kara’s shoulder, and she’s hesitating, and she’s leaning down to kiss Kara’s cheek for a long, lingering moment.

“Thank you, Kara,” she whispers, and Kara splutters.

“For what?”

“For bringing her back to us.”

“Maggie, you – “

But Maggie just puts her finger on Kara’s lip affectionately and makes to leave. “Spend time with your sister, Little Danvers. I’ll go get extra potstickers for when you inevitably need to refuel.”

Alex laughs softly. “I love you, Maggie Sawyer,” she calls out as Maggie leaves.

Maggie stops full in her tracks, her smile too big for her face, for the room, for the world, for the universe.

“I love you, Alex Danvers.”

She leaves without another word, and Kara raises her eyebrows at her sister as she links their fingers together.

“Well that’s new.”

Alex shakes her head, still smiling like she didn’t just nearly die.

“No, it’s not. It’s just new to be saying it out loud.”

Kara smiles and leans down to kiss Alex’s face.

“I thought I lost you.” Her lips quake – her entire body quakes – against Alex’s forehead, and Alex raises her hands to hold her sister close to her.

“Can’t snag the title of only badass in the family that easy,” she quips, and Kara just sobs harder.

“It’s not funny, Alex.”

Her voice cracks, and Alex almost breaks.

“I know. I know. I know.”

“It was my fault,” Kara squeaks, her face now buried in Alex’s shoulder, her body shaking so uncontrollably she jolts up from the bed so she won’t accidentally break Alex’s bones.

So she won’t accidentally hurt her. Again, again, again.

Alex furrows her brow and tries to sit up.

“Kara, what – “

“All of it, it’s my fault! That he knew who I was, that he knew to target you! That… that you broke your arm. I broke your arm, Alex. And then I… the water, it…”

“Kara.”

“You would have been fine, we would have worked it out, I… the water, you almost drowned, Alex, I can’t… I can’t imagine how scared you were, I… and that was my fault, Alex, mine, mine, and I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but I – “

“Kara, stop it. Please.”

“Alex, it’s all my – “

“Kara. Listen to me. Can you do that? For me? Please?” She sounds exhausted and she sounds exhilarated and she sounds worn out and she sounds alive, alive, alive. So Kara stops, and Kara worries at her lip, and Kara wrings her hands, and at Alex’s weakened beckoning, Kara sits.

“Kara, none of this was your fault. Okay? None of it. None. Not the plan, not the… the water…”

Kara shakes and starts to sob again, and Alex lays a hand on her thigh.

“Hey, hey, listen to me. Remember… remember that surf competition, when I was a junior in high school?”

Kara adjusts her glasses and sighs out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you wiped out and nearly dr – oh. Oh.”

Alex grimaces, too, but she shakes her head. “When we were kids, I… what I thought about, then, was… was how much I wanted to tell you. About how you weren’t just… an annoyance, you weren’t a hindrance on my life. You weren’t a nuisance, you were… you were my everything. And you still are. Kara, I… this time?” 

Alex shudders and Kara knows there will be long nights, and there will be nightmares, and they will be so much different than after that surf competition, because that wasn’t deliberate and it wasn’t torture. Traumatizing. Very. But not… not this.

But Alex presses on, and Kara files it away for later.

“This time, I knew… I knew you know how much I love you. I knew you know… Kara, that was… short of hurting you, or threatening you, that was the scariest thing that anyone has ever done to me. But I… Kara, I would do it a thousand times, a million, more, if it was to protect you. If it was to keep you safe, keep you from being blackmailed like that again.”

She doesn’t say that next time, it could have been James. Winn. J’onn. Lena. Cat. Maggie. She doesn’t say any of it, because she can barely bring herself to think it.

All in all, she’s grateful.

Grateful it was her, not any of the other people Kara loves.

“Alex, I would never want you to – “

“I know. I know you wouldn’t, but Kara, I just… I love you. I love you, and I would do anything for you. But I don’t have to anymore, not right now. Because look! I’m safe, and I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Okay? I promise.”

Kara sobs again, and this time, when she curls down onto Alex’s chest, Alex sobs, too.

She breaks her promise when Maggie comes in and Kara shifts back out, to replenish the water she’d drained from her tear ducts onto Alex’s shirt, to try to stave off the brutal headache from her crying session.

She breaks her promise because she unleashes her puppy eyes on Maggie, and Maggie is helpless, and Maggie is all but forced to help her limp out of bed, and Kara can’t do anything but beam, because if the way Alex breaks her promise to not go anywhere is simply by stumbling away from her bed with her girlfriend’s strong, loving arms around her?

That’s something that Kara can definitely, definitely live with.

Modern Animorphs AU (part 2)

@jollysunflora : The second half of my complete list of modern AU Animorphs headcanons, approximately one per book.  

28. “Ax,” Marco says, “How come you can roll out ‘venti dulce de leche dark-chocolate frappuchino extra whip’ without batting an eye, but you giggle every time you have to say the word ‘soy’?”

  • “It has so many vowel—owl?—sounds, in so little space,” Ax says.  “That long sssssssssss, so pleasant on the tongue, but then that odd oooyyy ooy-yah?  All in the back of the mouth.  Very strange.  Sssoooy.  Ssususs-oooyaaa.”
  • “Also, he’s moved on from the frappuchinos,” Tobias adds.  “Now he keeps spending all our hard-stolen bitcoins on espresso mack… mach…”
  • “Espresso macchiato con panna,” Ax explains.  “Doppio.”

29. Cassie feels herself sweating as she props the laptop across the room from her, tools laid out and Ax unconscious on the table.  She never expected to find a YouTube video on how to perform brain surgery—and to be honest, it’s actually about “how neurosurgeons perform an orbitozygomatic craniotomy,” not intended to be a how-to manual—but it’s the best she can do under the circumstances, and so she’ll follow along for now.  

MM3.  “That’s the kind of strong leadership we need.”  Jake gestures to the full-color television (this year’s latest model) where a program of their current leader plays on a loop.  “Keeping the wrong kind of people out of this country, saving America for the right kind of Americans.”

  • “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rachel says.  She and Tobias and Jake are the only three Animorphs, except when Melissa joins them sometimes, and listening to their “Supreme Leader” blather on gets old sometimes.  “All I want to know is whether it’s true that within a few years people will really have phones that plug into their cars.  That’d be cool.”
  • Tobias rubs his eyes against the silk of his wing feathers.  They itch constantly, since he doesn’t have a gas mask to wear every time he goes out into the pollution-opaque air outside the way that his human friends do.  Jake and Rachel take bets sometimes, idly, brutally, about whether he’s the last raptor left on the face of the planet.
  • “Magnificent!”  Drode appears in their midst, and both the Berensons immediately point guns at his head.

30. Marco is lying on his bed the day after watching Eva fall, staring at a patch of wall above his dresser, when he registers that his phone has been buzzing for a while now.  It goes off so many times he assumes he has to be getting a call, but when he checks his notifications he just discovers he’s gotten seventeen text messages in the last hour.  

  • The first is from “Smurfette,” and says “Did you know that there is a type of food that involves baking a cinnamon bun inside of a donut?  We must secure as many of these as it is possible for a human to consume, as soon as possible!”
  • The next one, from “Hawkgirl,” reads: “found out recently that apparently ax still thinks you invented flea powder.  i told him that if youd invented flea powder wed all be a lot richer right now.”
  • “Team Dad” (not to be confused with “Real Dad,” which is how Marco lists Peter) sent along several invitations to team missions on League of Legends this afternoon, along with a threat to have Cassie play Marco’s avatar if Marco doesn’t join in.  “we both know that by the time you get back you’ll have only healing attacks and she’ll have trained it to apologize automatically for stabbing people,” Jake adds.
  • One of the many texts from “Julia Butterfly Hill” suggests that Jake has underestimated Cassie’s diabolical streak, because it’s a screenshot of a clone of his account which has had its name changed to HarambeWasFramed.
  • The real surprise, however, is the single text from “Xena: Warrior Princess.”  It’s a link to an article about a disaster in the local national park and the efforts to clean up the wreckage of an as-yet-unidentified craft which went down in the canyon.  Marco has to read it a few times to understand the point she’s making, because it’s all about what’s not there: the article makes no mention of any human bodies being found among the wreckage.  
  • Marco gets halfway through typing a reply to them all which informs them in no uncertain terms that he sees through their transparent attempts to cheer him up and doesn’t appreciate it, but he deletes without sending.  He can practically hear his mom’s voice saying it: he can focus on the fact that he’s still surrounded by people who love him, or he can focus on the negative side of everything.  And being constantly negative is no way to live.  

31. “Sharing this again, because its been 3 months,” Jake’s cousin Brooke posts on Facebook.  “Anyone who has any news at all about Saddler, no matter what it is, PLEASE contact my family.  Big brother, I dont know if youre still out there, but I miss you.  I miss you like crazy.”

  • Jake turns up his Spotify’s Offspring channel a little louder to drown out the sounds of Tom and his dad shouting at each other downstairs.  His eyes flinch past Brooke’s post, but they can’t move fast enough to prevent the thought that flashes across the surface of his mind: Is this going to be me a year from now?

32. Tobias texts Rachel and Jake an article from Audubon.Org, where several birdwatchers are going into ecstasies of scientific fascination at the bald eagle and peregrine falcon seen flying in close formation in a cell-phone video taken near a highway overpass downtown.  His only comment is, “Told you so.”

33.  In the aftermath, Rachel does a Google search: “PTSD treatment symptoms outcomes.”  She reads through the WebMD site, the NIMH page, the Wikipedia link to a DSM-5 entry.  She thinks of Tobias’s withdrawn silences, his antipathy toward so much they used to enjoy, but she thinks of other things as well.  How exhausted Jake seems any time they’re not on-mission.  How badly Cassie flinches when the school bell rings and doors slam.  How Ax seems to be gradually losing interest in the things—cooking shows, new condiments, human history trivia, These Messages—that once drew his fascination.  How last week Marco flicked an ant off the back of his hand and then went white like he’d just kicked a puppy.  How good it had felt when she’d hurt David, spreading the pain around, giving it back.

  • She catches an Uber to the clinic downtown, filling out forms in the waiting room based on the checklist written on her phone for “how to get tobias an ssri”: Yes, she often feels tense and worried.  Yes, her heart often races for no reason.  No, she hasn’t thought of ending her life.  No, she doesn’t feel out of control when she eats.  
  • She gets as far as developing a cover story—it’s about how she’s never felt the same since her parents’ divorce—but in the hallway to the office she panics and calls Cassie.  “Am I doing the right thing?” she asks, after she’s explained.
  • Cassie is silent for a long time, never a good sign.  “I’m not sure an SSRI would work on a bird,” she says at last, “and that’s even if we could figure out a dose that would work without killing him.  I know you want to help, and I think you should, but…”
  • Rachel hears what she’s not saying: but what if her mom asks too many questions?  But is this risk really worth it?  But what if the psychiatrist (the receptionist, the pharmacist) is a controller?  But isn’t it them, and only them, against the world, and isn’t that just how it has to be?
  • “The war won’t last forever,” Cassie says weakly, and Rachel hates her a little for it.  “When it’s over, when we get to tell everyone what’s happening…”
  • Rachel hangs up.  She goes home, morphs, and flies out to the woods.  
  • «You know I love you, right?» she asks Tobias later that evening.
  • «Of course I do.»  He sounds exhausted.  She’s never felt more helpless in her life.

34. The Yeerk Peace Movement, as it comes out, has a Twitter feed.  It is rather painfully obvious that it has been set up and run entirely by aliens who are doing their very best to communicate with humans, and not quite succeeding. Most of the posts are couplets, for some reason that none of the Animorphs can fathom.  

  • “Want to be On Fleek? When you see someone’s rights threatened, speak!”
  • “Don’t be a Belieber anymore - end slavery and even the score.”
  • “#tbt: Remember when we were symbiotes?  Give taxxon freedom your sympathy votes!”
  • “Nickelback is super lame, and keeping involuntary hosts is just the same.”
  • “Respect your host’s rights today, and make your human into your bae!”

35. It’s Marco who comes up with the idea for how to take down William Roger Tennant.  This is a guy, after all, whose cockatiels have their own Instagram account: he runs his fame on the internet.  

  • “It’s simple,” Marco explains. “We start a hashtag—#notsonicetennant—and we make it go viral.  All we have to do is film this guy everywhere he goes, and eventually the yeerk will slip up.”
  • It proves not to be simple after all.  Their gif of Tennant twitching madly mid-EPA speech gets overshadowed by the news story about One Direction nearly getting poisoned with spiders at the same banquet. Ax does not understand the concept of hashtag, and keeps adding #notsonicetennant to his retweets of what Marco calls “food porn.” They train one of Tobias’s repurposed GoPros to follow poodle-Marco, but that becomes a meme mocking the world’s most obnoxious stray dog rather than Tennant himself.
  • The plan finally, finally comes off when they pull out all the stops and just confront him in morph.  The smartphones that Rachel rigged up in the surrounding buildings don’t pick up the thought speak, but the audio of Tennant screaming at the aliens to leave him alone comes through just fine.
  • When the scandal breaks, the internet (in truly predictable fashion) drops #notsonicetennant and starts using #tennantgate instead.  
  • Ax reposts an old photo of Tennant eating a quinoa salad—zoomed in on the salad—and tags it #tennantgate.  All of his teammates assure him they appreciate the attempt.

36. “All right, that’s just weird,” Marco says, looking at the final entry in the underwater creepshow they’ve been walking through for the past hour.  “All the other ships have been getting more modern as we’ve gone, but this one?  Looks like it was made in the sixties, at the latest.”

  • «The world’s creepiest museum curators are getting sloppy with the placement of bodies as well,» Tobias points out.  «There’s no way that many people could fit on a boat that small.  They’re practically falling over the sides.»
  • Jake and Cassie look at each other, seeing the same realization reflected in each other’s eyes.  Neither one of them wants to say it out loud.
  • Jake becomes the one to bite the bullet.  “Don’t you get it?”  He points to the ragged clothes, the emaciated bodies, the modern smartphone tucked in among the antiquated radio equipment.  “They were refugees.”

37. Rachel shuts the window on the library computer as soon as she hears someone walk into the room, but she can tell she was too late by the look on Jake’s face when she turns around.  

  • “Roy Ludvig, huh?” Jake says.  “Heck of a name.”
  • “He was at the T.V. studio when we attacked.”  Rachel looks down, picking at her nail polish.  “No civilians were supposed to be in danger.”
  • Jake’s expression softens, as much as it ever does.  “And now you’re scrolling through his Facebook, looking for something that’ll let you sleep at night.”  
  • “He’s got a grandson,” Rachel blurts.  “Jordan’s age.  He…”  She shrugs.  He’s dead, and it’s more or less her fault.
  • “Shouldn’t be looking on Facebook.”  Jake sets his phone on the library table next to her, taps the screen to bring up an official-looking report.  “You should be, say, borrowing my dad’s computer.  Sending an email from his account to ask for the guy’s medical records.  If you had, you’d know that Mr. Roy Ludvig had a heart condition.  That he had maybe a year to live, at most, and doctors said he might die at any old time.”
  • Rachel looks down at the report for a long time, and eventually looks up at Jake.  “Doesn’t make it okay, what I did,” she says.  “He’s still dead.”
  • Jake shrugs.  “You don’t have to forget it ever happened, but you do have to live with it.  Live, and fight another day.”

38. In the aftermath of Estrid’s visit, Tobias is flying over the boardwalk when he sees a henna artist who clearly smokes way too much pot to be a Yeerk. He gets Ax, they morph human, and both get henna tattoos of Elfangor’s name. (Ax had previously expressed an admiration for the human tradition of commemorating a lost loved one by making markings on one’s body.) They know the tats will disappear when they demorph, but they’re both glad they did it. The artist asks how long they’ve been together, and Tobias says in a scandalized voice, “he’s my UNCLE!” Thus, Tobias succeeds in both of his goals: making Ax laugh, and reminding him he has family here on Earth. Honestly, the reminder doesn’t hurt Tobias either.

39. “You know, not all squirrels are like that,” Marco is fond of saying after a morph goes wrong.  “Not all termites are horrifying worker drones.”  Sometimes it’s, “You know, some of my best friends are fleas.”

  • It’s Cassie, however, who gets the last laugh out of that one.  «You know, Marco,» she says as they swim away from the wreckage of the helicopter, «Not all ants are like that, right?  I shouldn’t say that all ants are killers, right?»
  • Marco stares at her in silence while the others snicker, watching him war between the two impulses: to keep the joke going forever, and to express his honest hatred of ants.  
  • «Come on.»  And now Rachel has joined in on the teasing.  «You’re just going to let that kind of besmirching of the ant community stand?»  
  • «Okay, okay!»  Marco gives in.  «Ants suck.  Yes, all ants!»

40. “Our experts have examined the video extensively, and near as we can conclude, this footage is genuine and unedited,” the newscaster says.  “Given how viral this video has proven to be, with over two million views since it was posted to YouTube on Wednesday, everyone wants to know: is this footage proof that aliens exist?  Is this a publicity stunt for the upcoming Fantastic Beasts sequel?  Or, as one YouTube commenter asks, did a Smurf just have sex with a centaur?”

  • «Potential new ally?» Tobias suggests.  He’s already tapping out a search for the original video in his modified tablet.
  • Ax laughs.  «Of course not.  He’s crippled.  A vecol.  Useless.  We must respect the privacy of his isolation.»
  • “You know what?  Fuck that,” Marco snaps.  He shoves to his feet, posture tight with anger.  “Just… Fuck that,” he tells Ax.  “I have ADHD.  Attention Deficit whateverthefuck.  I take a pill every morning to help me function because my brain isn’t good enough to filter stimuli all by itself.  I got a fucking 135 on the world’s most boring IQ test and I’m still failing half my classes.  I’m a vecol.  You think I’m useless, huh?  You gonna start refusing to talk to me because of some bullshit about ‘respecting’ my ‘privacy’?  Huh?”
  • «That’s different,» Ax says.  «You’re not…»  He doesn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence.  
  • «If he’s an exception, I hope I am too,» Tobias says more gently.  «I got screened for anxiety disorders as a kid, and I guess we’ll never know if I qualify or not, ‘cause my aunt decided that doctors cost money and if the test said I needed one then she didn’t want to know about it.»
  • Ax doesn’t answer for a long time.  He doesn’t seem to know where to look.  
  • «Let’s go tell the others what we found.»  Tobias taps a button to send the video to himself.  «We can talk more about this later.»

MM4. Tobias flinches when his phone makes the small ping sound that means he has an alert.  The new kid is the easy target in every school on the planet.  He wonders what it’ll be this time: another Facebook post where the semi-anonymous account Toby IsALoser tags him in another meme about how he has to pay people for sex because the sight of his body would make any normal girl run away screaming, another unnamed Instagram ping telling him he should kill himself so that no one has to look at his stupid fat face anymore, another Snapchat image of a puddle of vomit with the caption “me when I think of you,” an email with the most disgusting gif anyone could find after a quick search…

  • It’s not, though.  It’s an invite to join a private Facebook group, called The Sharing, with several hundred local members.  Most of the names Tobias recognizes are cool older kids from the high school.  Intrigued, willing to trust for the moment that this isn’t some ridiculously elaborate prank, Tobias clicks “join.”  

41. Jake looks around at the enormous open field, concrete pitted with openings and low hovels of corrugated steel and rebar.  He can see for nearly half a mile in every direction before the smog makes it impossible, and the tallest things around are the hunched hork-bajir.  “Where are we?” he asks.

  • Cassie frowns.  “This?  Jake, this is downtown Manhattan.”
  • He gapes at her.  “What happened to it?”
  • “Tall buildings are targets for drone strikes,” she says casually, turning away.  “The only way to be safe was to go underground.”

42. Marco doesn’t bother going to the house of the guy who photographed them, nor does he try to catch the kid before he uploads the video anywhere.  Instead he waits for the image to appear on YouTube, then becomes the first commenter.  “Sweet manip!” he says.  “Is that Photoshop, or can you do that in free programs like Gimp?”

43.  “EarthIsOurs-dot-tumblr-dot-com?” Marco says incredulously.  “What does Taylor do there, post pictures of her pet taxxon?  Reblog plans for planetary domination?”

  • «Judging from her archive history, she’s had this blog for many years,» Ax says.  «She recently changed the domain name, but some of the content on here is from as early as 2008.»
  • Jake and Marco get caught up in debating with Cassie about what exactly to send to her, but Tobias just scrolls quietly through Taylor’s old posts.  She didn’t lie about being beautiful, he realizes, or about being popular.  There’s a long blank period in her tumblr account in mid-2014.  And then she posted one selfie—just one—after the fire.  
  • He can’t bring himself to read the names that the trolls call her, or the discussions about how much money they’d have to be paid to have sex with her.  But there’s no overlooking the suggestions that she kill herself.  The posts are too numerous, too vitriolic.  
  • “Every chick ever to wander onto the internet has gotten that crap,” Rachel says; clearly she’s been reading over his shoulder.  “She should’ve developed thick skin, not joined the Sharing.”
  • Tobias thinks of the Facebook page made at his old school just to discuss the fact that he’s a chubby zit-face, of the posts which eventually overwhelmed his Instagram with death threats.  «Yeah, I guess,» he says.

44.  It takes a long time for Cassie to get home from Australia, but at least they’re not too worried for most of that time; she texts them her location and a brief description of the insanity that landed her in the Outback as soon as she gets in contact with Yami’s family.

45.  “None of this makes any sense,” Peter says.  “I’m hallucinating, or you’re delusional, or else—”

  • Marco sets his phone in Peter’s lap. “Check the timestamp, Dad.  I took that six months ago.”
  • Peter stares at the phone for a long minute, and then slowly looks up at Marco.  At a clear loss for words, he tilts his head back toward the screen.
  • “I know.”  Marco laughs, the sound wet with tears.  “That blond wig looks terrible on her.  But it’s really her, Dad.  I swear.”

46. “So they’re going to get the U.S. embroiled in another war,” Marco says.  “And this one with a country that can actually fight back.”

  • «Seems like,» Tobias says.  «Only why bother with all the secrecy and political wrangling?  Why not just send a couple mean tweets to Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un?  That’d probably do the job just as well.»
  • “No, it wouldn’t.”  Jake runs a hand through his hair, looking around at them all.  “The yeerks need a total war.  Everything the U.S. and its allies can pull out, against everything China and its allies can muster.  Our military has gotten too used to sending drones to fight its wars, to ‘tactical strikes’ against insurgents.  If the yeerks want half the species annihilated, they have to do a lot more than poke a couple of egos.”

47. “News flash,” Marco says.  “Your average suburbanite ain’t gonna accept a seven-foot-tall alien for a neighbor.  You know the number of times my mom’s been asked for proof of citizenship before she was allowed to vote or cash a paycheck or buy a car?  How many times she’s been pulled over by cops while driving the speed limit with her seatbelt on?  And she’s a regular old human being.  Toby’s right—the hork-bajir have a whole other fight coming if we ever win the war.”  

48. Rachel feels the blood drain from her face when she opens the Facebook message and sees the name attached.  David’s Facebook account has been defunct for almost two years now; there’s no one left who would want or even be able to access it from the outside.  Should be no one.

  • Miss me? the message from David’s account says.
  • Who are you? she types with shaking fingers.  What do you want?
  • I know what you did.  I’m coming for you.  I’ve got friends all over the place and they’ll find you.  They’ll kill you.  Amazing the allies you can get, when you know where the bodies are kept.  On the internet, no one knows you’re a—
  • Rachel hits “block.”  She tells herself that the screaming nightmares she has all that night and into the next are the product of having a stressful life, she’s an Animorph for pete’s sake.
  • She doesn’t stop shuddering every time she gets a message for the next two weeks, but she never hears from whoever (It wasn’t David. It couldn’t have been.) it was ever again.

49.  They stagger away from yet another hopeless fight, all of them injured, half of them missing limbs or bleeding to death.  Dragging their damaged bodies behind the first dumpster they find, they demorph, remorph, and force their minds to focus long enough for the long flight home.  It’s only when Rachel is in owl morph, staring around the dimly lit alleyway, that she sees the security camera pointed directly at their location.  

  • «They must not check it that often,» Marco says without much hope.  «Or else they’d be out here already to come looking for us.»
  • «Doesn’t matter,» Tobias says harshly.  «It had a perfectly clear view of all your human faces.  And that building is owned by the yeerks.»
  • They all stare at each other in dull shock as the realization sinks in.  They always knew this moment was coming—they could only be so careful for so long—and yet, on some level each of them hoped it never would.  
  • «Take one more night to be with your families,» Jake says at last.  «We evacuate everyone in the morning.»
  • Jake loses his phone, again, somewhere amidst all the chaos.  This time around he doesn’t bother to replace it.  It’s not like his mom is going to be wondering where he is, not anymore.  

50.  “So,” Jake says, “this is going to sound crazy, but—”

  • “Aliens are invading the planet, and you’re the only kid terrorist who can stop them?” James suggests.  “We do have wifi up here, you know.  You’re Jake Berenson, right?  You’re all over the conspiracy theorists’ forums right now.”
  • “Um.”  Jake runs a hand through his hair, starts again.  “Yeah, pretty much.”
  • James nods.  “In that case, you’ve got thirty seconds to convince me your story’s not a load of crap before I call security.”  

51. Ax secures their wifi in something a billion times better-hidden than Tor.  With that reassurance, they all end up starting blogs.

  • Marco’s is a rambling string of wry comments about everything from the invasion to his parents’ science projects.  Sample post: “Insider source (aka my mom): Visser Three has morphed human and eaten AN ENTIRE BAG OF MARSHMALLOWS in one sitting, ON MORE THAN ONE OCCASION.  Pass it on!”
  • Jake’s is the place that people go to find out how they can help, and to get his reassurance that the help means something.  Sample post: “As Barack Obama says, ‘We the people recognize that we have responsibilities as well as rights; that our destinies are bound together; that a freedom without a commitment to others is unworthy of our founding ideals, and those who died in their defense.’  This fight will never be over just as long as we keep supporting each other.  I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you all for the KickStarter donations.”
  • Rachel’s has beauty tips for the American girl on the run, light and self-deprecating enough that you often don’t notice the undercurrent of desperation.  Sample post: “If you want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror, try fixing your hair using reflective surfaces such as pots, ponds, or pieces of Bug fighter wreckage.  Alternately, just say ‘fuck it’ and never look at yourself again.”
  • Cassie’s tells people how to stay safe, and how to keep their environments safe as well.  Sample post: “Everyone please remember, it’s important to stock enough food and water for family pets as well as humans when retreating to an apocalypse bunker!”
  • Tobias’s has a lot of good-natured grumbling about everyday life in the valley.  Sample post: “In other news, my girlfriend’s mom is currently arguing with the smartest being on the face of the planet about where to put the new latrine facilities.  Sorry Naomi, but my money’s on Toby.”
  • Ax’s has a lot of food reviews, of course, but again there’s that undercurrent of desperation, almost like he’s trying to convince someone else (or maybe even himself) that humans are worth saving.  Sample post: “Marco assures me that there are no less than 23 distinct flavors contained within every sip of Dr. Pepper.  Just think of the years of experimentation and innovation it must have required to produce a drink which can inspire 23 different reactions from human taste buds, all at the same time.  Truly inspired genius.”

52. They run drills upon drills for what to do in case of a drone strike.  Using any morphs they have that can dig or build—mole, taxxon, elephant, beaver—the Animorphs create an extensive network of tunnels and shelters, posting guards at all times to keep their eyes on the sky.  The hork-bajir valley doesn’t show up on satellite imagery, which they only know thanks to Peter’s definitely-illegal fact-gathering missions on the darkweb, but they don’t know for sure whether an overhead camera would be subject to the same strange perceptual distortions they all experience when flying there as birds.  They nearly lose their precious secrecy when Naomi sends several emails from her work account, claiming she’s being held hostage and asking anyone who will listen to come rescue her.  Eva generates a hasty follow-up from the same account asking people to ignore “the prank that I now realize was in poor taste,” but none of them are sure it worked for the next several days.  

53. Rachel makes one last post on her nearly-extinct Instagram account.  This time the scrap of paper she uses appears to be torn from the back of a food label, but the penciled script is as intricate as ever.  It reads “Who wants to live forever? —Freddie Mercury, 1986”  

54. After it’s all over, Tobias retreats, he hides, but he keeps a thread of communication open.  Cassie shoots him an email with the subject line “Hawk patient with intermittent aggression and lethargy—any idea what could be causing it?”  Marco sends him idiotic memes that now feature the Animorphs’ names and faces.  Ax asks for constant updates on the new wing of Taco Bell being built downtown, and repays the favor by leaking confidential information about the search for the Blade ship.

  • And then he gets one of the stranger emails he’s ever received.  It’s an offer of a full legacy scholarship to Harvard University (which has just found the means to explain some inconsistencies in the records of one “Alan Fangor,” who graduated in the ‘80s) in exchange for Tobias teaching one class per semester on any subject of his choice.  He agrees, with the stipulation that all his classes be online.
  • The resultant course (Ornithology 442: An Insider’s Perspective) is like nothing the students who participate have ever seen before.  Tobias will write out rambling treatises on Why Blue Jays Suck or All the Ways Hawks Are Superior to Eagles with a thought-speak-to-text recorder.  He’ll deliver online lectures from a shaky webcam pointed into a nonspecific tree, occasionally wandering off for hours at a time to go hunting.  Students who ask him personal questions about Rachel get regurgitated mouse skeletons Fed-Exed to their campus mailboxes.  Essays that don’t demonstrate much effort get feedback such as “even I can tell this sucks and I have a seventh-grade education” or “my grandmother could make better sentences than this AND SHE’S AN ANDALITE WHO DOESN’T SPEAK ENGLISH.”  Assignments include “find one bird fact in a textbook and explain why it’s a load of crap” or “go film a Boston pigeon until it does something interesting, I dare you.”
  • Nevertheless, enrollment is so popular that Harvard has a three-year waiting list and charges students an extra $500 just to sign up.  When Tobias finds out about the extra fee, he promptly video-calls the Intrepid, gives Ax remote access to his computer, and explains why he needs Ax to convert the course illegally to a MOOC.  Harvard University fires him for breach of contract; Yale hires him on that very same afternoon.  

part 1 here 

If You Could Forgive Me

King Oropher finds you and Prince Thranduil together in bed and it infuriates him.

Warnings: Oropher being a real dick, like wowza, light nsfw themes, protective!Thranduil (that’s the opposite of a warning), Oropher yells at you and Thrans all like bro fight me, you do get hurt tho (Oropher slaps you and thran loses it), humiliation…
I think that’s all? There’s probably some more I can’t think of…

::

The Prince had his lips locked on Y/N’s, sealing a deep kiss. His hands gently touched her neck as his tongue touched hers.
She lets out a soft moan, and Thranduil smirks.

Y/N smiles. “Oh shut it.”

“Mmm, as you wish.” Thranduil’s large, warm hands traced underneath her light robe. He felt her soft skin and he let out a moan.

Y/N touches her lover’s cheekbone, ear, down his jaw, and gently through a few strands of his long, white hair.

Thranduil was ready to take off Y/N’s robe when suddenly the door slams open.

“Get her away from him.” It was the King.

He did not fancy Y/N, a soldier, he wished Thranduil to wed an elf of higher rank.

The guards hesitated. Thranduil tried cover Y/N with his large frame.

Oropher yelled at them again. Y/N immediately felt two rough hands on her arms as the guards dragged her off the bed. They force the maiden to stand up in front of Oropher. Her robe was hanging little off her shoulders, nothing was exposed but she felt glared and hated upon as Oropher’s eyes filled with hatred.

“What do you think you are doing with this elf in your bed, my son?” The king asks turning his gaze from hers and turned to his son who stood from the bed.

“Father! Do not harm her! She had nothing to do with this!” Thranduil spoke loudly. He treads to Y/N’s side and takes her sweaty hand in his.

“You’d dare touch a lowly elf soldier instead of a high Silvan maiden?”

“Yes. I would. I love her father, and I would see that I would be with her for the rest of my days instead of anyone else you bring to me.” Thranduil straightens up and squeezes her hand.

“Thran…” Y/N tries to whisper.

“Silence, whore!” He strikes her. She lets out a squeal as she felt his nails lightly dig into her cheek. Oropher orders the guards to drop her.

She fell to the ground, holding her face and did not notice her prince lunging towards his father.

“You dare lay a hand on her!”
Thranduil is suddenly held back by the guards. “Get your hands… off me!” He struggled to get out if their grip.

Thranduil wanted to kill the guards holding him, he wanted to strangle his farher, but most of all he wanted to take his elf in his arms, kiss her tears, heal her wound and take her away with him. Away from here, away from his father. He feels his knees being kicked, and he kneels on the ground, right next to where Y/N’s laying. His eyes grew wide upon hearing her small breaths coming out her quivering mouth. She held her hand tightly to her face. If she was bleeding he did not know.

“Oh, Y/N.” The elf prince’s voice was laced with worry. He looked at her, his eyes were wide with a deep concern.

“Look at her. A eleven soldier couldn’t even take a small slap to the face before she’s on the ground, sobbing like a child.” Thranduil glared at his father. “Tell me Thranduil what exactly do you see in her as opposed to all the other maidens I bring here? They are here for you, you know.”

“None of them want to be. None of those elves want to set foot here, being forced to marry some elf prince they had never seen before. Y/N is-”

“You think you love her? You think you love this weeping snake?”

“Do not call her such names!” Thranduil could feel his face getting warm. “Her name is Y/N. She is a captain of your guard. She is my longest friend and she will be the person I marry!” Thranduil shouts.

Y/N had finally opened her E/C eyes upon hearing what he had said. She knew she loved him. She knew. But of course there was that tiny little voice at the back of her mind that tried to prove her otherwise. Y/N places a hand on Thranduil’s thigh and looks at him.

“Thranduil, please. Don’t do this on my behalf. Your father is right,” She hated these words. “You deserve someone else. Not me. I’m sorry Thran.”

He looks at Y/N. “Don’t say that-”

“Enough!” Oropher raises his voice and drowns out any other sound. “Guards take her to the dungeons. Let no one see her.”

“What? No, my king, please, forgive me. I do not want to be sent there. I’ll do anything. I beg of you!” Y/N cries as one guard takes her out of the room as the other holds her prince. She tries to ignore his desperate pleas and screams.

::
I’ll probably do part 2 but we’ll see.

One of his moods (S.M. smut)

A/N: Shawn, waking you up in the middle of the night by eating you out. This wasn’t requested or anything but I do take requests as well as submissions so…. if you’re interested. Also, I am extremely tired at the moment so if this is crappy and short I’m sorry :) 

  “mmm fuck” I moan. I feel hands on my thighs and a warm wet tongue on my core.

   Consciousness washes over me but I’m still too tired to open my eyes. I reach my hand down to where the pleasure was coming from and I feel a familiar head of hair between my legs. I can tell by the chirping of the birds and the lack of light shining on my lids that it can’t be past 6 am but Shawn is one for spontaneity so this isn’t a huge shocker. 

   His hand finds my own that rests at my side and locks our fingers together, he gives a little squeeze as his tongue slowly drags itself up my folds. When the tip of his tongue meets my clit, he holds it there and applies pressure before beginning to flick it lightly. I open my eyes as another moan slips past my lips. His tongue leaves my bundle of nerves and I can hear him swallow some saliva. “am I mouth watering?” I tease, my voice drowning in rasp from slumber. He chuckles and I see his shadow sit up and soon after, he’s crawling up my body. “You are, actually” I can almost hear the smirk I know he’s wearing. 

   "Taste" he whispers and his lips meet mine. The soft pink muscle that was just working wonders on my center is now doing the same in my mouth. His, lips are so slick which makes our kiss very noisy but I’m not complaining and neither his he. He nudges my head to the side and gives himself access to my neck which he begins to nibble and lick on. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms wrapped around his broad back, I pull him closer and now I can feel that he’s still fully clothed. He must be in one of his “this is all about you” moods. I’m definitely not arguing with that. His hand leaves the side of my face and slides down to my core. 

He rubs me until his fingers are coated and begins to massage circles on my clit. My head falls back and it feels as though every bit of air has been vacuumed out of my body. He finds my lips again but this time he uses no tongue. He gives me a nice, deep kiss. Then another. Then a third. My toes curl as I feel my stomach tightening from how close I am. My slow breathing has now turned into full on pants and my head is absolutely spinning. He hisses against my lips before gently tugging my bottom one with his teeth and letting it snap back. “ahh Shawn please don’t stop” I whimper. 

 "I won’t” he groans.

 I can tell that having me come undone underneath him is satisfying by the way he’s moaning without me physically pleasing him. My back arches as my legs start to subtly quiver. “fuck…yes baby mmm” 

 “that feels good?” He asks, face directly above mine, looking for any sign of me not enjoying this. 

  That’s one thing that annoys me about my little Shawnie. He’s never sure of himself even when I’m literally telling him how good he’s making me feel. “I’m gonna-yes oh shawn…shawn” My moans are getting louder and louder but I can’t help it. “fuck Y/N you sound so damn sexy” I hear him say but too wrapped up in this burning sensation inside me to tell him how cheesy he sounded. My nails run down his back with enough caution to not actually injure him. Just wanna leave a couple red lines. 

  His fingers move quicker now that he knows I’m almost there. He dips his hand down to collect more of my juices before continuing to rub me. Over and over and over. “oh I’m there-fuck Shawn! Ohhhh” he finally pushes me over the edge and he keeps drawing circles on my clit to ride out my orgasm. His name is the only word leaving my mouth. I come down from my high, Shawn’s hand no longer moving but still resting on my center.

    He leans down to kiss me and I feel a smile stretch across his mouth before we part. “Was that ok?” He chuckled. “Babe…” “I know. You hate when I ask but I just…I like to be sure that I’m giving you what you need” he says nervously. “You are giving me what I need, Shawnie. That was amazing…random but amazing” I laugh and he laughs too. He rolls off of me and pulls the blanket over us. 

 “What was that for anyway?” I ask as I yawn, still drunk off of sleepiness. 

 “I just couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry about it you can return the favor later on” once again, I can hear him smirking by the tone of his voice. I shake my head and cuddle into him. He loves being the little spoon. 

 I feel myself drifting off….I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

2

Marilyn during her brief trip to Korea ₍₁₉₅₄₎

❝It was cold and starting to snow. I was backstage in dungarees. Out front the show was on. I could hear music playing and a roar of voices trying to drown it out. An officer came backstage. He was excited. “You’ll have to go on ahead of schedule,” he said. “I don’t think we can hold them any longer. They’re throwing rocks on stage.”

The roar I’d been hearing was my name being yelled by the soldiers. I changed into my silk gown as quickly as I could. It had a low neckline and no sleeves. I felt worried all of a sudden about my material, not the Gershwin song but the others I was going to sing- ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.’ It seemed like the wrong thing to say to soldiers in Korea, earning only soldiers’ pay. Then I remembered the dance I did after the song. It was a cute dance. I knew they would like it.❞

Control: A Darkiplier Short

(These events are separate from the events of June 19. Dark’s just so full of himself that he’ll only allow uploads of himself today.)

Mark awakes tied to a chair. His vision is fuzzy, and he vaguely remembers getting hit over the head with something from behind. Now here he is, in this little room. But something stops his heart. In a chair across from him is Amy.

“Amy! Amy, can you hear me?” He calls, straining against the binds that keep him in this chair. Amy’s chin is resting on her chest, and she doesn’t budge when he speaks her name. Mark feels terror gnawing at his stomach as a familiar ringing floods the room and Dark enters behind him with a sigh.

“Already awake, are we? And how do you feel Mark?” Dark grabs Mark’s hair and jerks his head back so that he’s looking up at the Ego. “Comfortable?”

Mark spits in Dark’s face and feels him release his hair. Dark strikes Mark across the face with a roar of anger, and Mark winces but doesn’t cry out. “Let her go.”

Dark rolls his eyes and strides over to Amy, draping an arm across her shoulders and hugging her limp form close. “But I brought us all here to have some fun, and you wouldn’t want dear Amy to miss out, would you?”

Mark swallows back the bile rising in his throat and feels his entire body begin to tremble with panic. “Please, Dark. I’ll give you anything. I’ll do whatever you want but don’t—don’t hurt Amy.”

“Anything?” Dark raises his eyebrows, impressed with the gutsy offer, but he wrinkles his nose at it. He stands, straightening his suit and feigning indifference. This feeling of power makes his head swim; it makes every nerve in his entire body light ablaze with excitement.

“Oh, Mark, dear, sweet, stupid Mark.” Dark takes a step towards Mark with every other word, closing the distance quickly and ending up inches from his face. Mark flinches away from him, but he can’t move very far. “I would never hurt Amy.”

Mark feels his muscles relax just a little, but he knows it’s a mistake as soon as he sees the smile cross Dark’s lips. “I won’t hurt her because I’m going to make you hurt her.” Dark places a finger to Mark’s temple, and Mark feels Dark’s aura assault his mind like a stampede, trampling down every thought. “I’m going to invade your mind and make you kill her, slowly and painfully in every single way that you know Amy is most afraid of.”

Mark whimpers and tries to shake away Dark’s influence, but it’s drowning him. He can’t hear his own thoughts anymore. He can only hear Dark’s voice and Dark’s laugh, and he can only feel the weight of Dark’s words dragging him farther and farther down.

“And when you’re done, as she takes her last breaths, I’ll let you wake to see your good work. How does that sound?” Dark grins, his shell splitting into different colors all whirring around him and ringing like tuning forks all struck at once in an ear-shattering chord. “And when you go mad, I’ll take your place, and no one in the world will know the difference. They want me, Mark. They’ve grown tired of you.”

Mark tries to fight off the words, but he can feel himself fading against Dark’s assault. He won’t—he won’t hurt Amy. He’d rather die first, but the aura is so powerful.

“Just give in,” Dark purrs into his ear. “It’s already over.”

“N-no, I won’t,” Mark gasps, trying to blink the smoke from his vision but ultimately failing.

“You will,” Dark promises. “It will simply take time, and when Amy awakes, the fun begins!”

To be continued…

Watch The Counter

I owe this whole thing to @pretentious-git on Tumblr who posted a prompt/imagine and then let me take it into my hands.
“Okay but imagine Draco just walking into the Slytherin dorms all dramatic like and wailing about Harry to his friends and for once no one tells him to shut up so he just talks and talks but they’re all totally giddy for once because someone tipped off Harry and rigged up a spell for a word-counter in the Gryffindor dorms, so Harry’s sitting in his dorm room watching this little counter climb higher and higher because every number counts for Draco saying either ‘Harry, Potter, or Harry Potter’ in a sentence and Harry can’t believe it when he watches the counter go from 5 to like, 13514 in one night.”
I want to thank you so much for letting me use and play with this.

Draco had been pining over Harry for years, and the Slytherins are tired of hearing about it and need to get some fun. No one knew exactly how it was going to end.


Harry’s eyes widen as his arm is gripped tightly by someone and he is pulled into an empty classroom. His eyes gaze at the hand on his arm before following the limb, his gaze meeting no other than Pansy Parkinson’s hard glare. Pulling his arm away swiftly from the Slytherin’s grasp, and opening his mouth he tries to find his words before realizing he can’t find them and closing it again. Pansy smirked while watching the Gryffindor’s confidence waver slightly. “Don’t worry Potter. I’m not here to hex you. I have something you may be interested in knowing.” This catches the green-eyed boy’s attention, causing his words to come rushing back to him. “What could you possibly have that I would want?” He says, his hand loosely wrapping around his wand as a caution though his curiosity is beginning to take over more and more. “It’s about Draco. He goes on and on about the boy-who-lives, and it’s been driving all of us Slytherin’s crazy since the first year when you rejected his handshake. However, it has gotten worse. I thought we could maybe have some fun with this, however, a way of keeping any of us from drowning him in the lake if you will.” she says her voice completely serious much to Harry’s surprise. He looked at the Slytherin in front of him quizzically before speaking again. “Um, I don’t know what to say to that. What do you expect me to do in this little scheme of yours? I would also like to add that there is no way Malfoy would talk about me of his own free will unless it was to make fun or plot some evil scheme.” As he finishes, he attempts to erase the slight blush he knows is beginning to grow on his cheeks. A cunning and confidence filled smirk growing bigger on the Slytherin girls features. “Wanna bet Potter?” she asks, a daring look in her eye. The Slytherin in Harry begins to stir at the challenge. “Sure Parkinson, you’re on.” She smiles and pulls out a piece of parchment from her bag, scribbling a few words on it before handing the paper to the boy. “Here. If you say these words a number counter will appear and display anytime, he says your name in any form. Beware of what you’re about to realize Gryffindor.” She says, a knowing look taking over her features as she throws her long black hair over one shoulder and walks out of the room, leaving Harry to stare down at the paper with a weird feeling stirring in his stomach.

Walking into the Gryffindor common room, Harry flops down on one of the oversized chairs, his mind still on the parchment folded in his robe pocket. “Oi, Harry you alright there mate?” Ron says forcing Harry out of his trance, his head wiping toward the red head. “Sorry, I’m alright. I was just thinking about something from earlier.” The redhead nods before turning back to his game of wizard chess with Seamus, who was sitting on Dean’s lap next to the fire. “Hey, guys do you mind if I try this spell?” Harry asks the small group who were hanging out in the common room. They all turn towards Harry at his question; eyebrows quirked up as a response. Sighing the raven haired boy wiped a hand down his face before speaking. “I was cornered by Parkinson, and she told me something interesting, she also gave me this spell to prove her point.” At the mention of the infamous Slytherin everyone’s attention being drawn to him entirely, books and chess games momentarily forgotten. “What was her point?” Dean asked into the silent room. Harry let out another sigh, “She says that Malfoy talks about me nonstop, and apparently in a nice-ish way. I bet her that she was wrong, so she handed me this paper with a spell that will tell us every time he says my name.” There were hums of acknowledgment throughout the room before Ron bursts out “Well on with it man! If nothing else it will give us the inside scoop into the Slytherin’s nest if we ever need it.” Harry nodded and took out the parchment along with his wand, casting the spell. When he finishes the words, a small screen appears above the fireplace along with what seems to be a score counter. As everyone’s heads turn towards the screen, they realize that it is the Slytherin commons room and dorms. When nothing else seemed to occur after a few minutes, everyone turned back to their books and games, including Harry who pulled out his potions textbook and parchment, starting on a long night of essay writing.

Harry’s eyes snap open at the feeling of someone shaking him awake. As his eyes focus on the room around him, he sees Ron standing in front of him while Dean and Seamus have turned around to look above the fireplace and Ginny and Hermione have joined the guys and are sitting on one of the couches, also staring up at the fireplace. “Sorry mate, I didn’t mean to startle you but stuff started happening on the screen.” Ron says as he makes his way back over to the couch he had been sitting on before. Wiping the sleep from his eyes before looking up at the screen displayed on the wall surprised when his eyes make contact with the counter seeing that it’s already showing the number 10, as his gaze raises higher he sees Draco pacing in the middle of the emerald and silver common room. “Can we turn the sound on?” Harry asks, his voice coming out a bit raspy from sleep as his gaze meets Hermione’s. She nods and points her wand at the display causing the young Malfoy’s voice to echo throughout the room. ” Why does Potter always have to be such a righteous prat? ” The blonde said, his eyes locked with Pansy and Blaise who were sharing an armchair, his voice indicating he was talking to the room. “ He may have the Potter name but he’s nothing more than a royal pain in my arse. ” Harry’s eyes switched to the counter seeing the number getting higher. A weird feeling beginning bubbling in his chest, which he quickly pushed down his gaze going back to the video. “ All I heard in the hallway on my way here was Potter this, Potter that. It’s like he’s the Chosen One or something. I mean who chose him? Why would they chose someone like Potter to be our world’s Savior? I mean have they seen the little shit? In just one year he fainted over 35 times. What is he? A fangirl or something? ” The blonde rants out all in one breath his pacing coming to a stop as he dramatically throws himself into a chair opposite Pansy and Blaise. Closing his silver eyes he starts ranting again, his voice a little quieter than it was even though the entire commons room is still able to hear him, silent eye rolls passed between students as the blonde drowns on. “ I mean some days I just want to shove him against a wall and kiss him. Other days, however, I just want to push him against a wall. It all depends on how heroic he intends to be that day. Seriously, kill him or kiss him. Does anyone else have this problem when it comes to our Saint and Savior Scarhead? ” At the Slytherin’s confession everyone’s head in the crimson and gold common room turn to look at Harry, the raven-haired boy’s face turning almost a Weasley shade of red as his eyes continuing to stare unblinkingly at the video in front of him as the blonde continues to say things that he never thought he would hear from the young Malfoy. “ You wanna know how it should have gone back in first year? ” The blonde asks to the room, many groans heard even though it was their collective idea to let him drone on and on today, Malfoy was still an ear full to deal with when he went on one of his ‘I hate Potter but am really in love with him but don’t know it cause I don’t think or listen about what comes out of my mouth when I talk about Harry Potter’ rants The teen sends a glare at the students who responded to his question before turning his attention back to his friends. “ It should have gone like this. I introduce myself, and hold out my hand, he accepts it and then proceeds to question his sexuality and how the earth orbits. Is that really to much to ask? ” Blaise being the weaker of the two Slytherin’s before Draco can’t help it when he bursts into a fit of laughter, quickly burying his face in the back of Pansy’s shoulder in an attempt to go unnoticed. This tactic doesn’t work in the slightest earning him glares from the students around him who felt he may be blowing their cover. However as always when it came to Draco ranting about Harry he was oblivious to almost anything else. “ I’m serious, Potter with his perfectly messy hair and Potter with his gorgeous green eyes and Potter with his stupid Gryffindor bravery; why does he always have to be little miss perfect? Hasn’t he figured out that unless you’re me being perfect all the time is stupid? I guess not though since he has yet to trip and fall down a hundred flights of stairs. ” At that Harry rolls his eyes, the blush still present on his features from Draco’s comment on his sexuality. Harry felt the bubbling feeling in his stomach come back, this time with more force. Harry knew that if he hadn’t been sitting down the effect of the sensation would have forced his knees to buckle, silently he focussed on pushing the feeling away, blocking out everything else around him in the process. He hadn’t realized that the blonde had continued speaking so when his senses came back to him he realized that the silver eyed Slytherin had kept talking about him. “ Up. Down. Left. Right. Everywhere I look it’s Harry fucking Potter this, Harry fucking Potter that, oh and let’s not forget the times Harry fucking Potter is standing in front of me with his stupid face and perfect lopsided grin. Can’t I have just one Potter-less hour?! Wait wait wait til I take that back. Yeah don’t do that. I’ll keep my hours Potter-full. But only so I can make fun of course, there is no other reason I would want him around, yeah no. Another think I want to know is why he doesn’t listen when I talk? Once I was telling him how he had a nice face, however all he did was tell me to piss off. And again in fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament I told him of how I bet against my father and said that he may actually last a bit and survive. But once again nothing more than a piss off. ” Even from the view of the video the smirk on Pansy’s face was unmistakeable, a wicked look flashing in her eyes. “ So what you’re saying is that you don’t like Harry Potter, our Boy Who Lived, is that correct Dray? ” The blonde rolled his eyes though the corners of his mouth seemed to be trying to fight past his mask to form a smile. “ Fuck Potter, Fuck Potter, Fuck Potter. That’s all I have to say on stupid Fucking Potter. ” The dark haired girls smirk grew even more as she took in the answer. “ Wait I think I’m seeing a pattern here. ” she exclaimed excitedly, shifting slightly in her seat so she is facing Draco fully, her back to Blaise. “ Oh fuck you! ” The blonde say, raking a hand through his gelled back hair, messing it up slightly. Pansy rolls her eyes and laughs a little at Draco’s outburst. “ Oh sweetheart, I don’t think that is what you were asking for a moment ago. ” She shines an innocent smile at him as be begins muttering under his breath. “What did you say? ” she ask innocently, batting her eyes as she speaks. Draco rolls his eyes but speaks up anyway, making sure to direct it to her and not the whole common room. “ All I say is fuck off, but all I want to say is fuck me.

At this confession, Harry’s concentration on the screen is broken as if a spell had been on him. Trying to recover from what Malfoy had said he coughs, it quickly turning into a fit. When he can regain his ability to breath, he quickly stands, rushing out of the common room and into his dorm, slamming the door behind him, placing a locking charm on the door. The raven-haired teen paces back and forth in the dorm, trying to figure out what Draco meant by what he said, and furthermore what Draco had said meant to Harry himself. Forcing himself to take deep breaths Harry sits down on his bed, putting his head in his hands as he attempts to process what he had gotten himself into today. The blonde Slytherin’s words echo throughout the room as Harry sat in silence.

He is knocked out of his thoughts as someone knocks on the door, Harry realizes the locking spell on the door and opens it, his eyes never leaving the floor. He let out a small sigh as he felt someone sit next to him on the bed, someone’s hand intertwining with his own. Looking up he lets a little smile show on his features as his green orbs meeting Hermione’s brown ones. She smiles back at him, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, Harry rolls his eyes just a little before looking away from her. “I’m okay, thanks ‘Mione. Just surprised I guess.” She nods understanding watching the floor as well. “You’re not the only one surprised, I mean I had suspicions about you but it never even occurred to me that Malfoy may feel the same.” Hermione’s words caused Harry to look up staring at her profile. “Suspicions about me on what?” He asked dreading the answer he knew would explain the feelings he had been feeling in his stomach. “Suspicions that you liked Malfoy.” It felt like a stake to the heart as he notices that he is as transparent as they come. “I didn’t think anyone knew,” he mutters quietly, mostly to himself thought he knew Hermione had heard, resting her head on his shoulder they both sighed softly.

They had settled into a comfortable silence causing them both to jump when they heard Ron scream “Bloody hell.” from the common room. Glancing at each other they both stand, hands still intertwined as they go back to the common room together. The two break apart as they walk down the last few stairs and into the common room, the view in front of them almost makes Harry laugh. The two boys sitting in front of the fire are laughing, their gaze going between the video and Ron, his sister laughing while patting him on the back, the ginger boys head is in his hands mumbling under his breath. Breaking apart Hermione goes to sit back down by Ginny, Harry walking over to where he had been sitting. “Mate, you alright?” Harry echoes the words his best friend had said earlier; the Weasley boy looks up at his friend, horror in his eyes as they meet Harry’s green ones. “I-i-i,” he starts unable to speak aloud correctly, clearing his throat he tries again. “I just got what Malfoy had said before you left. Just Ewww.” He says running his hand through his ginger hair as a shudder runs through his body. At this action, Harry bursts into a fit of laughter paying no mind to the blonde still talking.

After a moment or two his laughing calms down, and he looks back at his best friend who still has a look of horror on his face. Letting out a long sigh he looks up to the screen at the sound of the Slytherin’s voice again. “ Potter is such a git, ” Malfoy says, running his hand through his hair again which is already a wreck almost a mirror image of Harry’s most of the time. For the first time since they had been watching Blaise speaks up on his mind on the subject. “ I know right. Fuck Potter. ” At the other man’s words, Draco speaks again. “ Yes, I hate him more than all of the other Gryffindorks, him specifically. ” His silver eyes are closing as he lets out a big sigh. “ No Draco, fuck him .” The dark haired boy says looking at the blonde with a slight smirk growing on his face. “ Yeah I know I- ” Draco starts again, most likely about to start another long monolog that could have a real possibility of keeping both groups of students in their common rooms all night. “ Fuck him, ” Blaise says again, letting the smirk he had been suppressing show its true color at the silence he is greeted with from Draco and the almost silent giggling coming from Pansy who is hiding her face into his shoulder, he speaks again to further get his point across in case Draco ends up being just as oblivious as Harry always is. “ Fuck Potter, or at least kiss him or at the very least tell him how you feel. ” At this, a shade of red that could only be compared to the Gryffindor shade made its home on Draco’s pale skin along his cheeks, ears, and neck. Harry could feel his own face, ears, and neck turning a matching shade of red, the blush burning his tanned skin as he runs a hand over his face and then through his hair.

For the rest of the night, Harry sits in the overly cushioned chair dozing off, his eyes occasionally gazing at the counter on the wall. As the sun begins to come through the tower windows, Harry smiles to himself seeing the Slytherin groups asleep in their common room, spread out on a sofa and chair. The green-eyed man’s gaze slowly trails down the counter, eyes widening when he sees the number 13,514 displayed on the wall. His smile growing into a huge grin at the realization of everything that happened the night before. He looks around the common room finding Ron laying face down on the floor looking like he got pushed off the sofa, Ginny and Hermione sharing said sofa, Seamus and Dean also sprawled out on the floor with blankets and pillows spread out around them, and Neville who had come in late after studying in the library was half falling off a matching armchair to Harry’s. Quietly the raven-haired boy stands and makes his way to his dorm, quickly changing into a set of his muggle clothes seeing at it was Saturday, checking the clock to see that it was a little after 7:30 am he makes his way out of the dorms and into the cold, empty corridors of the castle. While focussing on keeping quiet Harry forgot to check the image above the fireplace making it a complete surprise when he runs face first into the chest of a white-blonde Slytherin. The dark haired boy feels an arm wrap strongly around his waist the other grabbing his arm to steady him. Looking up into the silver eyes of the other man Harry’s smile falters slightly before growing into an almost wicked smirk realizing that he knows everything from last night but that Draco knows nothing about it. The young Malfoy seems to realize just how close they and lets go of Harry’s waist his hand lingering on the others man a few moments longer before being removed as well. The two teens stand in the hallway and look at each other, Harry’s face showing a smirk while Draco’s was masked, though his eyes seemed to betray him by showing slight nervousness. The two stood that way for what felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Harry broke the silence, his eyes glinting with just a little bit of mischief from knowing something the other doesn’t. “Malfoy, what are you doing out and about so early? Your fellow Slytherin’s threaten to throw you in the lake yet?” Harry ask remembering Pansy talking about the Slytherin’s using the stuff from last night to have fun and stop them from drowning Draco in the lake with the giant squid. The blonde’s eyes betray him again by widening in slight shock before recovering once more. “Don’t get your lacy pink panties in a twist Potter. Why would you care if I was thrown into the lake to drown anyway? Disappointed it wouldn’t be you tossing me in there? Not that I am getting thrown in the lake in the first place.” Harry rolls his eyes at the other man in the hall, the bubbling feeling coming back to him as he takes in Draco’s features up close; his perfect porcelain skin, how the light shines against his white blonde hair making it look like he has a halo surrounding his head, His silver eyes taking in Harry before meeting his green ones. “No that’s not it, Dray.” At the use of Pansy’s nickname, Draco’s masks falters again, this time lasting longer in its falter before he recovers. “Dray? Where did you hear such a name?” Harry smiles, the wicked grin being replaced for a small and shy smile. “I guess you could say we have a mutual friend.” Harry says before walking down the hall towards the Great Hall for breakfast, turning to look back at Draco with the smirk on his lips once more. “You coming?” He asks, receiving a distracted nod as Draco absentmindedly falls into step next to him. The walk to the Great Hall is quiet, green eyes meeting silver ones repeatedly as the two walk. Harry reaches his hand out to open the door that would lead them into the Great Hall he feels Draco’s hand touch his arm causing him to lower his arm and turn towards the blonde. The Slytherin looks up and down the man in front of him, the corners of his mouth fighting to pull up into a smile. “What do you know?” he asks, his eyes searching the slightly shorter man’s face. Placing a mask of innocent on his face Harry smiles at Draco “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I know plenty of things which one are you talking about?” A slight chuckle escapes the pale man as he takes in Harry’s innocent demeanor. “You’re acting different, and I want to know why.” Draco states trying to command his feelings towards the person away and channel them into his mask. He had known he had feelings for Potter for awhile now but he wasn’t able to accept them, he had messed up back in the robe shop the September before the first year when a cute brunette boy walked in, and he had been the prim, and proper son Lucius Malfoy had taught him to be instead of being himself. He knew he was not good enough for Harry so why bother, right? Harry smiles his real and genuine lopsided grin at Draco, a smile that only people close to him ever see. “I’m not acting differently in the slightest Malfoy.” When he says, the teen’s last name comes out soft and nice as if it was ‘Mione’s name instead of stiff and hard like he would normal say the other student’s surname. “Oh bullshit,” Draco exclaimed causing Harry to chuckle aloud, Draco’s world stopping for a moment at the almost angelic sound of the other man’s laughter. “You are acting differently. Your walking, talking, smiling, and laughing with me. You’re using a nickname only one person ever calls me. Something is up; I know it so spills.” He rants, unnerved as the thought begins to dawn on him that Harry could know about his feelings and that he may just be playing with the blonde to get back at him for the past five or so years of torment that Draco and his fellow Slytherin purebloods have caused him. Harry lets out another chuckle before pulling himself together. “All I will admit to is that a little bird spent all last night going on about some righteous prat named Potter that he apparently had a problem deciding if he wanted to kiss or kill. If you want my opinion I would say kiss the Saint and Savor Scarhead, seems like it would make more sense to do that. I mean you could always kill him later.” The Gryffindor remarks before shining another signature lopsided grin at Draco before reaching out to open the door and disappearing into the Great Hall leaving the Slytherin dumbfounded in his wake.

The Great Hall slowly begins to fill as the morning drags on. Harry smiles as his Luna walks over to him, her being the only Ravenclaw to come down for breakfast. Smiling back she sits down next to the raven-haired man. “Good morning ‘Arry,” she says before grabbing a plate and placing some food on it. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit here I just really don’t want to sit alone, you know?” Harry nods, knowing the feeling of not wanting to be alone all too well. “It’s perfectly fine with me Luna.” With huge smiles, the two dig into their food waiting on the others to join them.

First is Hermione, followed by Ron who sits in front of the two not even batting an eye at the fact that someone outside of their house was sitting with them. Ron sleepily piles food onto his plate, almost face planting into it multiple times while Hermione grabs some eggs, toast, and hashbrowns digging in for a few moments before striking up a conversation with Luna over one of the books the two had been cramming over after classes yesterday. Next came Ginny who immediately noticed Luna and sat next to her, she piles her plate with food to make sure she would have enough energy for the Quidditch practice game later in the day, her eyes never leaving the artistic illustrations Luna was making with her hands as she spoke with passion about the book her and Hermione were discussion. Seamus, Dean, and Neville came in and sat down next never missing a beat in the heated discussion they were having over what seemed to be two Quidditch teams. Last to join as always, probably because they were too busy plotting or executing pranks to remember what time it was, was the famous Weasley twin who sat down next to Harry immediately trying to convince him to join in with one of their brilliant plans they had in the works, saying that if they had the Chosen One on their side there was no way they could get caught. Harry rolled his eyes at the twins drowning out the rest of their conversation as he made eye contact with a certain blonde Slytherin from across the room, even with a faint blush making his way to his cheeks he pulled his lips into a small smirk and winked at the blonde before turning back to his friends.

As people began to join the Gryffindor table the same was happening at the Slytherin’s with Pansy and Blaise making themselves at home on either side of Draco. Crabbe and Goyle even made an appearance by sitting across the table from the trio, knowing better than to act like they were part of the group. As soon as Pansy was seated Draco turned to her his voice coming out as a commanding whisper. “What did you do?” He asked, worry running ramped in his mind as he tried to assess how much Harry knows. The Slytherin girl looks over Draco’s shoulder at Blaise as they let it sink in the Draco could know what they had set up with the Golden Boy last night. Putting on a smirk the girl turns her attention back to the blonde in front of her. “What are you on about Dray?” she asks trying to put as much innocence into her voice as she can in case he doesn’t know anything. “That, that right there. You’re not the only one that has called me that today, what did you do?” Draco asks nervously, his fingers unknowingly playing with his fork as he watches the girl with interest. Pansy twist her hair around her finger as she decides what to tell him. However, she is thrown from her thinking when she hears Blaise speak up. “It wasn’t just her, it was all of the Slytherins,” he mumbles unable to make eye contact with Draco’s glowing silver eyes. “What did you do?” Draco says in a dangerously low voice, his body already preparing to run as his brain eliminates possibilities. “Don’t go all dark lord murder spree, okay?” Blaise asks, receiving a not so convincing nod in return. “Okay so all of us,” he says gesturing his hand in an indication of the Slytherin tables. “Had grown tired of you going on and on about Potter since the first year. So we took matters into our own hands and got a spell that would show the commons room in a video form as well as a score counter that would display every time you said Potter’s name in any form. Pansy proceeded to give this to him. As far as we know he may have used it last night which could mean he knows everything you said last night.” Blaise finishes his eyes finally meeting Draco’s watching the blondes mask melting away being replaced first by worry, then happiness, and lastly by anger which causes him to look away. In one swift motion, Draco is standing looking between Blaise and Pansy before looking up and down the table at the other Slytherin’s sitting silently waiting for what Draco was going to do. He looks back at Blaise and Pansy when he speaks even though he is yelling and knows that the whole Great Hall can hear him. “YOU. DID. WHAT?” with his anger filled eyes staring into them neither of them speaks, Pansy only letting out a slight shriek. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he glances across the room his eyes meeting brilliant green ones for nothing more than a second before he turns on his heels, running out of the Great Hall.

When Draco breaks eyes contact with Harry, he momentarily feels empty, alone. Quietly he stands and makes his way out of the Great Hall when he is out of the Hall he pulls the Marauders map out of his pocket thanking himself for making it a habit of taking it with him wherever he went. When the map is opened, he runs his finger along the paper trying to find the name he wants out of all the other students, teacher, and staff residing inside the castle. As he finds the name, he lets out a sigh of relief seeing that he was somewhere nearby. Closing the map and putting it away he breaks into a sprint, making his way through the corridors towards the lake.

When Harry gets to the lake, he stops when he can see a head of blonde hair resting on one of the large rocks by the shoreline. He takes a few deep breaths before taking a few step closer only stopping when he is standing next to the other man. Clearing his voice in a way to get the Slytherin’s attention he sits down next to him, their shoulders touching. “Are you okay?” the brunette asks his eyes searching Draco’s profile. “Why do you care?” Draco responds, his voice coming out gruff as if he is having an internal fight with himself. “I have always cared, what happened yesterday just showed me how much I care,” Harry says, giving up on making eye contact with the taller man and just staring out at the calm dark water. “It’s fine if you didn’t mean anything you said last night, it’s not like you knew the full story of who was hearing your words, so it’s understandable if you don’t feel the same.” Harry rambles into the silence around them. Harry opens his mouth to speak again after a few minutes but closes it as Draco’s slender finger run against his jaw, turning his head towards him. Green eyes meet silver ones for what feels like the first time all over again; neither filled with anger, neither glazed over by a mask. They stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like forever, the scenery around them blurring into nothingness as they take on the other. Slowly Draco moves forward, his eyes glancing between Harry’s lips and his eyes, Harry leans forward as well, their lips brushing against one another as eyes flutter shut. The kiss becomes heated, Draco pulling Harry into his lap with the brunette straddling him. After a few more minutes the two slowly pull apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they catch their breaths. Without warning Draco breaks into a fit of laughter, causing Harry to lean back to get a better look at the blonde in front of him. “Are you okay?” Harry asks a smile growing on his features. The blonde continues laughing, putting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “I-I’m okay just never thought I would be kissing the Chosen One, let alone have him straddling me.” He says into Harry’s shirt, the confession causing Harry to laugh along with Draco. With a huge smile, Harry pulls Draco’s face away from his shoulder, pulling his lips into another breathtaking kiss.