i like the design of the first one better but the message of second one better

anonymous asked:

Kat, kat. U've read fma right? And you think edward is pretty right? (Say yes, please) Anyway, if you write fma, I want to be enabler. So, like. Maybe edwardxkakashi. Like, they could bond over their guilty feelings. And (my god. Why are they so pretty????) Stuff. Anyway, if u don't write fma xover, u can ignore this message. XD

I have read it, and I’ve actually written a couple f brief one-shots for it! Buuuut I’ve never thought of Kakashi/Ed before and nOW I WANT IT. 

So. Have a drabble. (Post-2013 anime, CoS!AU, because I adore Ed’s character design in that movie.)

Damn but Ed hates this place, with its stupid shitty weather and it’s stupid shitty prosthetics that can’t hold a candle to Winry’s automail, its constant wars and mercenary society when all he wants is a week without something exploding. Not to mention whatever ridiculous power system they use here that isn’t anything remotely like alchemy but manages to bring up pangs of familiarity every time Ed seems people do ridiculous things with it.

With a quiet grumble to himself, he hefts his groceries a little more firmly over his shoulder, trying not to smack anyone else, and turns towards the apartment he’s renting. The people here need shit fixed the same way anyone else does, and Ed’s managed to make something of a living. Teacher would drop-kick him in the face for using alchemy on most of it, but it gives Ed enough time to scour the library. The sharp-eyed librarian won’t let him into several of the sections—something about A-rank jutsus being restricted to civilians—and whatever Ed wants to say about the shinobi, they’re even better at sneaking than he is. No luck on that front so far, and nothing he’s found mentions crossing dimensions.

Ed is frustrated and his limbs hurt and he’s carrying thirty pounds of food because Al would give him a Look if he didn’t at least try to keep himself fed, so he can be excused for not seeing the asshole meandering down the street until he slams face-first into his uniform vest. There is, however, abso-fucking-lutely no excuse for the way the man lowers his book, blinks at Ed for a brief moment, and then says easily, “Ah, sorry, didn’t see you there.”

It’s been a long day. Ed’s gotten better at controlling his temper over the years, but something things are a bridge too fucking far. A vein in his temple throbs, and he steps forward with a snarl, stabbing a finger into the unnecessarily oversized idiot’s chest. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING TOO SHORT TO SEE WITH A MICROSOPE, HUH? I’m perfectly normal-sized, you gigantic moron, so step the fuck off!”

There’s a long, long moment of silence. The silver-haired man stares at him, something kindling in his eyes, and as the haze of rage lifts slightly Ed realizes with a plummeting sensation that he recognizes it all too well. It’s the same one Colonel Bastard wore the first time Ed blew up at him about one of his shitty height jokes.

A shiver of foreboding slides down Ed’s spine, but he can’t retreat now.

“Maa,” the man drawls, all breezy bullshit and mock-innocence in his visible eye. He flips his book shut, eye crinkling in a friendly smile, and adds, “I apologized, you know? No need to be short with me.”

Oh fuck. Ed’s traded one smug asshole of a bastard for another, and this is one facet of equivalent exchange he definitely could have done without.

“Look, buddy,” he grits out, and pretends he isn’t testing the weight of the sack over his shoulder. He could probably brain someone with it, given enough effort. And Ed’s never been scared of a bit of hard work. “You’re just asking to get your face pounded in, here. Back off, or I’m going to—”

That’s definitely delight growing in the man’s face. “Ah, it’s so admirable when people don’t let certain vertical challenges get in the way of their—”

Fuck it, he’s dead. Ed swings his grocery bag like a club, sees the man dodge with almost insulting ease, and sweeps underneath it with a kick to take the bastard out at the knees. He hops over it, dodges the punch Ed throws at his ribs, and flips over a second kick with a truly unnecessary flourish and flip.

“You’ve had training,” the man says, beaming, and he flips his book open again.

Ed eyes the distance between them, wonders if it’s too low to try and take him on his blind side, and decides that Teacher would never forgive him if he didn’t at least make an attempt. “You could say that. None of the twisty shit you guys do, but I get by.”

The man makes a noise of feigned surprise. “Oh? For someone with your reach, that’s impressive.”

Ed pictures pounding his face into the pavement and tries to set him on fire with his mind.

“I,” he manages when he can unlock his jaw, “have a perfectly decent reach, you bastard.”

Another flicker of amusement that he looks down at his book to cover, and Ed moves.

As fast as if he were fighting Teacher, he throws himself forward, feels the man dodge by a hair’s breadth before he plants one hand on the ground, pivots, and kicks out hard. It’s the left leg, so he can’t feel the impact as more than a jolt, but he can hear the wheeze of air leaving the asshole’s lungs before he flickers out of the way. Ed lunges again, lets the flare of his coat cover his movement, and punches up in a haymaker—

There’s a puff of smoke, a pop, and the bastard reappears on the other side of the street, nose buried in his lurid orange book, an unmistakable smile on his masked face.

“Sorry to cut this meeting short,” he says blithely, ignoring Ed’s wordless sound of rage, “but my cute little students have been waiting for two hours already. How impolite of you to hold me up further.”

Maybe he has a good reason for being that late, but since he’s absolutely an asshole, Ed rather doubts it. “You should stop worrying about them and worry more about how I’m going to kick your ass,” he growls, shoving his sleeve up. Only the left one, because the right arm is too good a surprise to waste. “You and your stupid tallness and your stupid fucking face—”

“I’ll have you know my face is very popular,” the man says mildly. “There’s a bounty on it and everything. Ah, but you might have missed it—they usually put the Bingo Book on the top shelf, and the library only has so many ladders.”

Die!” Ed roars, and launches himself headfirst at the man, who vanishes in a swirl of leaves. A faint giggle drifts back from the end of the street, and Ed abandons his groceries to their sad, squashed fate in the street and bolts after the bastard, fully prepared to chase him across the entire village if that’s what it takes to finally pound his face in.

You, Me, Him, and the Universe

Description: The universe won’t be any kinder to our children than it was to us if we aren’t kinder than our own fathers were.

Or… the reader and Spencer Reid have a child together. Spencer is desperate not to make the same mistakes that his father made.

Word Count: 1948 words (this got so long, sorry)

A/N: Haha ok so I wrote and deleted and rewrote the whole thing several times. At this point it goes in an entirely different direction from my original idea. Also. This is a Reid x Reader kid fic, but the reader isn’t actually the main focus of the story. It’s mostly Reid and, later, your kid. You make like, a guest appearance basically. Furthermore, I have no idea why nebulizers became so central in this fic. I don’t even know if they had the same kind in the 80s. If you don’t know what a nebulizer is, give it a quick google. Finally, part 1 of this is kind of stream of consciousness-esque and a little vague. I styled it this way because part 1 describes one of Reid’s early memories. Some readers might find it a tad annoying, and I apologize in advance if that is true for you. All of that said, it would be really great if you could give this story a try anyway. I’m actually pretty proud of it.


“I can’t breathe, mommy!” Spencer’s four-year-old body shook with sobs, making it even more difficult for him to inhale oxygen in the midst of an asthma attack.

Normally, his mother would have brought out the nebulizer, helped him get the mask over his face, and gently rubbed his back and read to him as the medicine slowly opened his airways. But she was having one of her “bad days” and was convinced that the medicine had been tampered with and would hurt her son. So the nebulizer had been placed in a cupboard far out of Spencer’s reach, and he was left to cry and wheeze and beg his mother for his medication.

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Detroit dir. Kathryn Bigelow (2017)

I finally saw Detroit, the day of the Charlottesville Nazi march no less.  

I have very mixed feelings on the movie and they’re only mixed because director Kathryn Bigelow is a really good filmmaker. People who were most wary of the film because it had a white writer were right to be so, because the script is absolutely the weakest link and writer Mark Boal, who also wrote the scripts for Bigelow’s films The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, has penned a script that gets so much wrong, trampling all over moments of subtlety with clumsy dialogue and making minimal effort to deliver context. 

The film has a very clear three-part structure: the first is dedicated to the overarching outrage and frustration that led to the 1967 riots, the second shows the murders of three black men by the police at the Algiers motel that took place mid-riots, and the third focuses on the lack of justice provided by a biased and ineffectual legal system. But at every turn the writing, and sometimes the direction, undercuts its own message. Aside from some completely lazy title text accompanied by some very ugly animation, the first section does an absolutely terrible job of showing why black people in Detroit started rioting and even mostly privileges the perspective of the police. The final section is so bad you have a character screaming out “the system is rigged” in a courtroom as if the movie doesn’t trust the audience to put the pieces together.

And that’s a real pity because these two weak sections bracket the strongest most effective part of the movie where Bigelow delves in to what exactly went down at the Algiers and where Boal for the most part (but unfortunately not completely) curbed his need of having characters broadcast the film’s intentions. This is the part of the movie that’s earned the most criticism for the amount of violence, but it’s a violence that feels earned in a way that the violence of the first section of the movie doesn’t. This is Bigelow at her masterful best, juggling a large ensemble of characters so that their actions and motivations are clear. Despite the chaotic nature of the action, which involves about a dozen characters running in and out of various rooms, the geography of the place is never in doubt so that audiences are able to fully focus on the horror of the actions. It is by no means a perfect piece of cinema but it’s by far the best part of a fractured film because it shows (without telling!) that there is absolutely no winning what the police call the “game”, where they use brutality to get their suspects to confess, or indeed any way of winning when it comes to black men dealing with the police at large. One of the gifts of the large ensemble is watching as all the black men take different approaches to trying to survive the night and the absolute desolation of watching as every single one loses. Even the ones who live come away completely destroyed by what they’ve seen and what they needed to do to survive.

Will Poulter, playing a racist cop, has been met with the most praise and though he’s very good among my favourites were John Boyega as a security guard who decides the best approach is to act deferential. It’s not a great role, again the writing lets him down, but he has such a commanding presence that he’s a pleasure to watch on screen. Algee Smith as an ambitious young singer and Jacob Latimore as his friend and roadie are also standouts. I’ve heard no one praise Anthony Mackie but he has one of the best moments in the film. Sitting in his room with two young white girls they hear the police invading the motel he starts coaching them on what to do and how to act and without further explanation you can tell from the exhaustion and fear in his voice that he’s been in this situation before. It’s a quiet well articulated moment of the kind the film could have used more of. Also to briefly bring up the two white girls who are also brutalized by the police: Hannah Murray has the biggest part between the two of them and she is unfortunately awful. I’m honestly so disappointed because though the role was small it covered a lot of complexities I’ve never seen depicted before on screen: the way white women use black men and black culture as a way of being transgressive, the way white women are used as an excuse for white men to lash out against black men, the way that even if they are privileged in some ways they can be victims of sexual harassment and abuse, and the way in which despite these things they can retreat back into the privilege of their whiteness. A lot of complexities going on that are ruined by Murray’s atrocious performance. I wish Bigelow had chosen someone else.

Some more scattered thoughts: I love it when directors reuse actors so I enjoyed seeing Anthony Mackie and also Jennifer Ehle, so great in Zero Dark Thirty, in a cameo! The production values on this were amazing and the costume design by Francine Jamison-Tanchuck, especially for the women, was gorgeous. I can never unthink of John Krasinski as Jim from The Office, and he was distracting as a smarmy police union lawyer. Samira Wiley also pops up for literally less than a minute, the role didn’t require her having a lot to do but it seems like such a crime to have her do the work of a glorified extra.

I wish I could recommend it because I am a huge fan of Bigelow but I just can’t. The riots deserved a better movie and I believed Bigelow could do better so I’m disappointed that the resulting film was so uneven. Even though the time never dragged for me this only ever felt like a very solid first draft with hints of how much better it could have been. I’m not surprised it’s flopping at the box office because a) it’s not very good and b) who exactly is the audience for this? White racists won’t touch a movie that address systematic racism by police and white people sympathetic to the film’s message will have a difficult time sitting through a two and half hour uneven film filled with gruelling violence. By the time I walked out of Detroit to check the news a woman was dead and many more injured after a Neo-Nazi plowed his car into a crowd of peaceful protestors. It served as a painful real-world reminder that black audiences and other people of colour are already living everything Detroit has to say. 

fixer upper | myg

summary: yoongi keeps asking you to fix things in your new apartment, and it’s getting ridiculous.


pairing: yoongi x reader
word count: 1.5k
genre: fluff
warnings: ass staring!
a/n: there are maybe eight different writing styles in this one single drabble, but whatever. requested by anon! 

If you thought visiting IKEA sometimes three times a week was going to be a rare occurrence in the whole scheme of moving, you’d be entirely wrong. In the past three days alone, you’ve dropped by the store five times, because your boyfriend is always sending you texts at the worst times, like ‘pick up a trash can’ or ‘we need an end table!’ or ‘i can’t figure out how to put this fuckin bookcase together’.

New apartments are typically difficult to come by anyway, so the one you found with Yoongi was practically a diamond in the rough. Decent view, good cell reception, no leaks or creaks or cracks, fully functional kitchen and bathroom. One thing you will complain about for the rest of the time you spend living here, however, is the fact that the apartment overlooks a busy road and therefore means terrible firetruck sounds at three AM, but hey, you can’t have everything.

You’ve finally begun to settle into the new place, furniture slowly starting to cover the barren wasteland that is your apartment, the whole aesthetic of the landscape coming together. It looks pretty good, if you do say so yourself, but it didn’t happen without many an hour spent arguing about the IKEA directions. They just don’t make any sense, and between you and Yoongi, neither of you are very good at deciphering them.

But now the apartment is mostly furnished, save for a few missing shelves here and there, and the it’s finally starting to feel more like a home.

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Auston Matthews - Views

request: Auston Matthews one where you met at a hockey game when your out celebrating with your friends that you guys made it pass your first year of law school?
authors note: oh deeeeeeeeeeeeeeear this took so effing long. and i am so sorry about that ????? hopefully you can forgive me and that it was worth the wait. i know it’s hella long but i got carried away and had so many things in mind, i had to write it all. i think i’m quite happy with it? like i haven’t had the chance to feel yet haha. but thank you so so much for requesting. i enjoyed writing about auston. also i know the leafs played the blue jackets the night after this game that is featured but in this story they didn’t lmao. also can we appreciate that the gif is literally from that game ??? bless. please feel free to send me any type of feedback as it’s always greatly appreciated and helps to motivate me. 
word count: 6068

”Okay so who’s getting the champagne?” A chuckle erupted throughout your group of friends as all of you made your way out of the school for the last time this spring. You all were well aware that there was no way you all would be able to afford any sort of bubbly wine. Unless it was one of the cheapest ones which only tasted of proper garbage. It was not worth it. Instead you had managed to sort out seven tickets to the leafs game that night, through your cousin Zach. You had only been to one game previously. That had been the night of Zach’s very first NHL goal, which was back on March 7th, 2016. Despite being very close to Zach, you just hadn’t been able to make your way to the Air Canada Centre for quite some time for various reasons. But you had followed his first season as a rookie, closely on TV. As had your friends.

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To Be Favored (Part 1)

Sooo, this is really long, but ever since I saw the stuff about the Crows and their favor I HAD to write it. sorry if some of the EU lore doesn’t match up, I tried to cross reference things! (Also, I know cat-eyes isn’t some mystical information peddler but I sorta used her as such in this story.) Anyways, I hope you like!!


For those new or still yet naive to Elsewhere University, you might describe the crows as, for lack of a better word, cute. To you fresh faces to campus, they are simple creatures, ebon-dark with wit as sharp as their shrills, who for some reason or another flock to EU in droves. You see them as companions to adore, to cherish. You will try to gain their favor with baubles and shiny bits, pieces of bacon thrown underneath their flocks, shiny gems left on windowsills. You think the crows of EU as mindless as others.

Know, from this point on, that you are wrong. Foolishly so. To continue believing them simple is not only stupid, but dangerous. The crows are mindless only in their machinations to achieve their desires, they care not for your feelings or beliefs, for your vindications and convictions. They care not for your adoration, your fear or your petty little baubles- they care about, most off all, themselves at the heart of all things.

Though, sometimes the crows grant boons to students that leave suitable things- offerings they find worthy enough to justify a favor. And Sometimes, the crows watch the people who insult them, whether you did so knowingly or not, with eyes that pierce the veil into Elsewhere. Often the only thing that’s left of those poor souls are the ignorant, mocking gifts they thought appropriate, or the last breaths of ill-timed insults.

The Not-so-smart students attempt to garner their favor and present to them simple gifts; many of which are near insults to their intelligence, which they thankfully ignore- most of the time.

 The Smart students approach the crows with a vague interest at most.

 The Smartest students ignore them completely.

But sometimes- and it doesn’t happen very often at all, for the crows are very, very, very fickle beings, but sometimes they find a particularly unlucky student that sparks their intrigue. Now, despite what it may sound, this is not a good thing. 

These students are perhaps the unluckiest of all, because no matter how smart you are, the crow’s Favor is not something you can escape.

To emphasize, Favor is not something you want. No one knows how they choose their Favored. Rumors lurk that you must be born at a specific point between the stroke of midnight and 12:01. Some say the darkness, the Elsewhere, taints some students before they even arrive in the womb, and the crows, friends of the darkness, flock to it. Others say that they like those with the shiniest of souls- what makes a soul shiny, only the crows will ever know. And they don’t divulge their secrets willingly. Not even to me.

Whatever the case, Favor is not something you try to gain. It is different from a boon or a gift in that it is all-encompassing and terrifying in it’s nature. It digs itself into your skin and transforms you from the depths of what you thought you always were. You become what they will you to be, and you will watch yourself do so unerringly. It will taint your mind and your bones, until you are Their’s. They will have you; every sorry, pathetic, wretched piece of your damned soul. You will not be happy with what you become. You will not want it. But you will Become. They will ensure it. 

You see, they are innately possessive, and what they want, they get. No matter how hard you try to escape. No matter how fast you run. No matter what help you enlist. The EU crows are Elsewhere weaved with blood and bone, animal instinct emboldened by intelligence and a drive that is something Else entirely.

The Not-so-smart students want to be Favored by the crows.

The Smart students know that the crows are dangerous.

The Smartest students fear them entirely.

This is a story of a girl who was one of the Smartest. She did everything she was supposed to. She made no mistakes. She did not fault. But still, from the time she stepped onto campus, the crows Favored her.

And because of this, I was doomed to lose the battle from the moment I started fighting it.

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This Is Us- Chapter 13

Thanks to @Tammywt a terrific sounding board and all around cheerleader!

I broke this chapter into two parts– it got too long! I’ll need to keep chapters consistent between AO3 and Tumblr so revamped future chapter list at the end of this post.

Catch up on earlier chapters here 12, 11, 10 or by toggling over to the Master Fanfiction List

The promised early morning rain was moving on just as Claire and Faith reached the outer fields being used for the Quarter Day festivities.  It had been a muddy walk over but the sun would soon dry out the paths. Not that such matters had dampened enthusiasm amongst the crowds. It was approaching mid-day and the place was packed.

Music could be heard coming from several different areas over the the fields.  A small demonstration of traditional highland games was in full swing as were the various activities for children from sack races to sheep wrangling. Faith tried her hand at winning a goldfish with a ping pong ball. Faith (luckily) had a terrible throwing arm.  

Every now and then, they would catch sight of someone they knew from Lallybroch in the crowd. Ian tended to draw the eye with his unusual gait and Jamie’s hair and height made him easier to see. They didn’t go out of their way to greet anyone, though. Mindful of Jamie’s observations, they remained two lost in the larger crowd.

Claire and Faith checked out the various strength challenges, impressed by the size of the competitors. She watched participants tossing around massive hammers, stones and logs. Not for the first time, Claire found herself thinking about the national psyche of the place.  

How the games had remained the same generation after generation, still more or less using implements that were used then. Gooseflesh ran down her arms, these men, in kilt and boot, could have walked straight out of a rift in time.

From the corner of her eye she saw Faith standing in front of a cluster of women just as awe-inspiring as they readied themselves for a go and smiled for  there was progress writ on today’s fields, too.

“Good luck, ladies!” She cheered them on as she reached her hand down to Faith and moved her a safer distance from the action.  

After a time, they meandered through the crafts area, exploring everything on offer:  gloves and socks made locally, candles, honey, fine metal, leather goods, cheeses and vegetables of all kinds.  Nibbling samples and touching the knitted items as they went.

“Ooh…What’s it?” Faith asked on a reverent sigh after stumbling on a soft blanket in her favorite purple hue.

“Och, darlin’ ‘tis made from the finest alpaca, no’ more than 10 kilometers from here.” The squat man with a pipe hanging off his mouth proudly declared.

Faith pleaded with her eyes. Claire wasn’t certain if bargaining was part of the expected entertainment but her Uncle Lamb hadn’t carted her from hither and yon without teaching her a thing or two. By the time they were done she’d parted with £70.00 (down from £100).  

She watched as Faith hugged the bag containing her new lovey to her chest, careful to keep it out of the damp path but she caught her surreptitiously rubbing her cheek against the soft corner that peeped out of the top. She smiled, knowing she’d gotten the best of the negotiation.

The afternoon sun was in their eyes as they made their way over to the bleachers set up for the shinty game. Though by the time they sat, the sun was behind them. A light breeze rising as the afternoon lengthened.

Faith had spotted Jamie right away, of course, and then noticed Jenny, Murtagh, Fergus. By that time, though, Claire had spread out the little picnic lunch she assembled from the various food stalls. A tempting array of snacks had kept Faith content and her mouth too busy for idle chatter.

It was a coed game, that much was clear but Claire wasn’t entirely sure about the teams or the rules. The players were wearing t-shirts of varying plaid designs in muted colors with Slainte prominently displayed. It looked as if  Jenny and Jamie were on opposite teams.

Jenny had a wicked hook and didn’t shy away from muscling anyone who crossed her path out of the way.  The game was physical. The smack of the ball against caman audible as were the grunts and calls of the players. 

Claire watched for a bit and then concluded that whichever team Fergus was on, his only goal was scoring with a pretty blonde woman flirting right back.  

The game looked like it might be winding down. Claire finished packing their food away then asked Faith if she wanted to visit the ponies. Just then, Jenny got in a particularly good shot.

Claire heard an appreciative cheer behind her, followed by young Jamie asking, “Did Mum score?”

She looked over to see Ian standing hand in hand with his son watching the field of play. She raised her hand as he smiled his hellos at them.

Faith called out “Uncan!” and pulled Claire up, urging them to Ian’s side where she promptly offered her lovey for inspection.

“Och, verra soft!” Uncan dutifully agreed.

Then Faith and wee Jamie began inspecting some bugs underneath the row of seats behind them.

Claire and Ian were chatting, eyes off the field when a sudden yell and the unmistakable sound of a collision rent the air. 

Claire knew without looking that she would be needed. Wide eyes met steady ones.

“Faith?” She asked, even as Ian reached his hand out to the lass.

“I’ve got her. It’s no’ Jenny, she’s fine, I can see her still standing. Dinna worry, Claire. I’ll get the bairns back to the house. We’ll meet you later.”  

Claire spun quickly and, running onto the field, reached into her bag for the kit she kept on her person at all times. There was a small crowd gathered around the centerline of the field.

With all of the efficiency of a master drill sergeant she split the crowd and was down on her knees next to the three people splayed out on the ground before she had even registered what she was looking at.

A woman, red cleats, long blonde hair, startlingly green eyes, another woman, short brown hair, shorter skirt- no, it was a skort– and glasses, not moving and a man, naturally, Jamie.

There was that kind of muted murmuring that happens at sporting events when players are injured. Claire caught Jenny’s eyes and with a minimum of mostly non-verbal communication was able to confirm that the first responders had already been called. They were housed under a special first aid tent set up between venues. They’d arrive momentarily.

She only hoped Ian had gotten Faith off the field and looking elsewhere. If she saw her parents, she’d want to come see them. No telling what might happen but there were too many people around to want to risk having to pass off anything Faith might say as accidental.

She eyeballed Jamie. His problem was obvious, though treatment for him could wait. He had a cut along his thigh. It would need stitches. 

Red cleats was moving around but in pain, the skort was still flat out.  Claire thought red had a dislocated shoulder, skort undetermined.

Skort then. Her skin was gray.  A, B, C the three part emergency assessment vital to such situations.

Struck out at A - airway was compromised. She wasn’t breathing. Jamie was about to start chest compressions when Claire shot her hand out and stopped him.

“No, that’s– “ rather than explain she pushed at his body, understanding he was in the way, Jamie quickly moved to the side.  

Claire dug her hands up and under skort’s back and hoisted her into a half sitting position, her body braced against Claire’s knees as Claire’s arms came around to the front of the woman’s chest. 

Claire made interlaced fists just under her rib cage and then heaved for all she was worth, once, twice and a wheezing sound from skort told her she was on the right track, on the fourth squeeze a piece of rubber came flying out of the woman’s mouth.

Along with some water and what looked to be some fruit from lunch.  An audible, grateful wheezing inhale told Claire that she had successfully cleared the blockage. Color was slowly returning to the woman’s face.

“You are alright.” Claire told her. “That’s it. Just shallow breaths, in and out. You’ll feel a lot better in a minute.”

Jamie was on the woman the second he saw she was out of immediate danger. He handed her a wet towel for her face and checked the rest of her out, even as Claire was doing the same.

“Lass, are ye ok? Anything else hurt?” She gave a grunt of negation to his question, still trying to get her breath back.

On a smaller wheeze Claire heard her breathe out, “Jaaaymee-EEE” in a rhythm that obviously had a hidden message.

Jamie chuckled in relief and responded with an answering grin, “Gen-EEEEVA. Tell me true, are ye ok?”

Claire smiled recognizing Wall-E calls – one of Faith’s favorite movies. By  this point Geneva had readjusted her glasses and could see a bit better.

“Yes, Jamie, honestly I am. I borrowed my niece’s mouth guard, I guess I should have just skipped it?”

Jamie hugged her to him.

“Ye scarrit the hell out of me, dinna do that again.”

“Oof, get off! You’re a bloody mess and I just bought this skort!” She declared.

“Well, if I’m bleeding it’s because of you and yer wicked handmaiden -determined to take me out ye were! Between the twa of you and Jenny, I stood no chance!” Jamie pretended to be affronted.

Jamie was bleeding more heavily now. Claire quickly wadded up some bandages from her kit and pressed them firmly into Jamie’s leg.

He gave a grunt of pain.

She slapped his hand over the cut instructing, “Press here, hard, don’t move around too much.”

Jamie nodded at her but then turned to the other woman.

“An’ speaking of which, Geillie, how’s yer shoulder?”

Geneva gave a soft cry and turned her head around to find Geillis hurt though she had managed to sit up. Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was trying not to throw up or pass out. The shoulder needed tending.

Jamie crab crawled over to the woman.

“Geillie?” he asked. “Are ye ok?”

The woman’s eyes opened. She was clearly in pain but heard him.

“No.” She responded.

“Geillie?” Claire said to get her attention.

Her eyes shifted to Claire’s.

“I’m Claire I’m going to help you. You have a dislocated shoulder. Have you had one before?”

Geillie shook her head no.

“I know it’s painful but in just a minute or two you’ll feel much better.”

Jamie made to reach over and help.  

Claire put her hands on his chest and pushed him backwards, repositioning his bandages.

“You stay right where you are. Damned stubborn Scot! Did you not hear me before? What do you think you’ll accomplish bleeding all over the place? Sit still, apply pressure. We need to stop the bleeding. Geillie will be fine, Jamie. I will take care of her, ok?” Claire reassured him holding his eyes. When she saw he understood she turned back to attend to Geillie.

With Jenny and Fergus’s help, she soon had Geillie in the right position. It took  bit of maneuvering and two tries to pop the shoulder back in and she was sweating considerably before it was done.

“Oh, that feels much better!” Geillie said.  

Claire gave her a quick rundown on aftercare just as the first responders came onto the field. They transported everyone off the field back to the first aid tent.

Jamie had declined the recommended visit to the Urgent Care clinic in favor of Claire stitching him up right where they were.

The ladies would be transported although Fergus had offered to drive them to save the ambulance fees.  Geneva sat next to Geillie a comforting arm resting on her leg, the only part of her that Geneva didn’t think was hurt just then and waited for Fergus to pull up.

Claire numbed Jamie’s leg. There wasn’t a whole lot to look at in the tent so they all watched Claire work.

Jamie saw a small neat row of stitches appearing. Her hands automatically making the movements.

“Sassenach?” he began.

Her eyes came up.

“I…what ye did for Geneva? I dinna think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“I told you I was a doctor.” Claire downplayed but smiled when she said it. It had been nothing, every step drilled into her years ago.

“Aye, but there is a considerable difference between understanding something and knowing it. I wouldna figured it out in time. You saved Geneva’s life, Claire. I dinna ken how to thank ye for it but—”

Claire’s hands were still busy with the sutures so she contented herself with gently headbutting him and resting her forehead against his as she softly chided.

“Shh, you. That’s my job, it’s what I do.”

Jamie laughed as his hand reached behind her head and he pressed a lingering kiss of thanks and murmuring the same to her brow.

“Ladies? Shall we go, the car is just outside.”

Jamie glanced up, having forgotten that anyone else was with them. He watched as  Fergus ushered Geillie and Geneva to the car. His eyes locked on Geillie’s and she smiled sheepishly and waved as she left.


Claire gently closed the door to the Laird’s room after making sure Faith was sound asleep and straightened her emerald green wrap dress a little as she turned.

She looked up to find Jamie ambling down the long gallery hall wearing a kilt with a blazer and a black Slainte t-shirt. The cotton worn and faded, it likely would feel soft as Faith’s lovey, she thought.

“Is the lass asleep?”

“Yes, but I’m sure a last cuddle from you won’t keep her up, she’ll be out again  soon as her head hits the pillow. We had a big day.”

Claire watched him make his way toward her.

Jesus, the way he moved.  

“Y-your– leg not troubling you?” Babbling tongue tied idiot! Claire admonished herself. 

“Nah, I was in great hands and it’s no’ in a place that chaffs.” Jamie smiled, continuing to come towards her in slinky strides, as much big game cat as man. Something about the plaid changing his walk or his balance.

Perhaps it was just her, Claire thought. For whatever reason, she was especially aware of his body and how it moved within.

She normally tried to forget how freaking hot he was. He was her daughter’s father. Period, end, finito.

From the very first, she’d felt that pull, but normally she could pretend it came from the pit of her stomach and live with the white lie.

Oh, but not when he was wearing that yum, no.

Now, she couldn’t help but be aware that the clenching in her body originated far lower down.

Claire made a funny humming sound in her throat as he brushed past her, the faded wool of his plaid caressing her hand.  She shivered at the sound his  heel made on the hardwood.

That caused him to pull back from the door just as he was about to open it. He turned his astonished gaze to hers and she could not hide her blush.

“Something I can help ye with, Sassenach?”

Jamie deliberately stepped in closer to her, rubbing up against her the tiniest bit. Not so much it was obvious but in a way that made her feel…why that ruddy Scottish bastard, he knew! He knew damned well how good he looked in his kilt.

A walking inducement to anyone with a pulse.  

Too flustered to do anything about it she tried to soldier on.

“Uhm, no. I’ll just go down and —” Claire lost the train of her thoughts as his hand came up into her hair, light as a butterfly.

He was watching her closely. Pinned under that deep blue gaze,  she had nothing to bluff with. His head moved closer to hers, she tried to move a little away but his body mirrored hers and followed where she led.

Aware of his mouth thisclose to hers, the sound of the soft rumbling noises he made, the smell of his soap, sandalwood and cedar. She tried to take a steadying breath but found herself panting instead.

“Sassenach?” Softly intoned on a whisper.

“What–what are you doing?”  

She swallowed and looked up to find him watching her closely. His face so close she could feel the exhalations of his breath. If she moved a fraction of an inch he’d come straight into her.

Claire stared hard at his lips, tender and just a little sunkissed. He hadn’t shaved in long enough that the hair was just turning from prickly to malleable.

How would it feel against her tongue? She wet her lips. 

He made a little sound that caused her eyes to lift up. He was staring at her mouth with as much intensity as she was his. An aching need spread through her.

She moaned a tiny bit imagining him leaning in with his body, trapping her solidly into the wall. 

Unable to help herself, Claire pushed all the way back imagining how it would feel, the cool plaster behind her, the heat of Jamie in front, pressing inward until their bodies were joined. 

He moved with her, but not pressing against her. He kept the sliver of space between their bodies. Oh, please!

His fingers traced her hair once more.

She squeaked a little and her lips parted as she shifted her weight on her tiptoes unconsciously reaching up toward his  just as he spoke.

“Just getting this out of your hair, Sassenach.” 

He said matter of factly and  handed her a piece of crinkle paper from a box that Faith had been playing with earlier.

Claire looked at his hand rather stupidly. Then she understood what he had said.

“Oh, oh. Well, ah.” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought.

“I’ll see ye under the tent, shall I?” A raised brow of dismissal as he stole into the Laird’s room to kiss his daughter good night.

Chest heaving, Claire tried to slow her heartbeats down as she slumped against the wall and sighed too loudly to hear Jamie collapsing against the other side of the closed door trying to catch his breath as well.

Chapter Updates: Chapter 14: Into the Mystic/Kiss Me;  Chapter 15: Like on A Date, Chapter 16: The Date (I think You Will Love This One), Chapter 17: Operation Lard Head, Chapter 18: Three Ravens 

[Image Description: A row of physical pamphlets on LGBTQ+ identity, the first six produced for Queer Condensed. They sit on a table with a trans flag as a tablecloth. Temporary tattoos and magnets can be seen behind them.]

Welcome Message v2.0 + Opportunities to Help!

Hey there! I’m Lorant (they/them/theirs), the author / designer / everything else currently behind Queer Condensed. I wanted to write this post to explain the project a bit better - where it’s been, what’s going on, and what it’s doing.

There is a small Q&A you can get to by clicking on this text, but I figured that a project summary would do well, and also I want to participate in Making Queer History’s Queerworks Fridays.

Anyways, Queer Condensed is a project aimed at making clean, accessible, short resources on queer topics since a lot of times, things that can be easily printed out are behind paywalls or outdated (or both) and the better resources are often articles that take a while to read and can’t be easily printed out and shown to people. It started as a class project in fall of 2016 thanks to the help of my two classmates, and I decided to keep working away at it.

Updates are pretty slow, but they’re happening! Since the initial six-pamphlet run of the project, I’ve added two new pamphlets, updated three of the originals, and created one-page guides for chest binding and packing. Currently I’m working on minor updates like adding image descriptions to my posts, creating a template that pamphlets can be based on and updated to, and making the Tumblr easier to navigate for people not used to the site. I also have several pamphlets / guides planned, including making more specified Asexual and Transgender pamphlets, writing one-page guides to dysphoria-relieving items for transfeminine people, and possibly making introductions to historical people and events.

This is kind of a lot for one person and here’s where I get to the second purpose of this post - I need some help!

There’s a lot of small ways readers can help the project:

  • Look over pamphlets and send Queer Condensed an ask if there needs to be updates or fixes
  • Suggest resources for existing topics or blogs that are relevant to this project
  • Suggest new topics
  • Ask for the template and make your own pamphlet, which I can help you with and host on here or link to wherever you put it up
  • Reblog the posts or link to them from other social media
  • Critique my image descriptions - I’m very new to adding them and don’t really know if I’m doing a good job
  • Tell me how to make the blog or materials more accessible

This is very much a long shot, but I’d also really like to find a new project partner to work with. I’ve updated the Q&A (linked above) to reflect what I’m looking for to not make this long post any longer, but basically I’d love another writer or at least a moderator that has identities that differ from mine in some way. If you’re interested at all please check that out!

Anyway, thanks for reading this, it means a lot to me. I hope this was a good introduction or refresher to the project. Feel free to check out the resources or send the blog an ask. There’s also queercondensed@gmail.com if you’d rather send an email.

A quick reminder: you’re fantastic.

Why your art comment section is dead & how to get seen

I keep seeing more and more young artists become discouraged from posting their artwork in online art communities due to lack of feedback so here’s some thoughts.

(Disclaimer: The following article is based on personal observations, both as a self-thought hobby illustrator and as a graphic designer working in the advertising field, hence I do not guarantee any scientific accuracy.)

The good news:
Your art does not suck.

The bad news:
You might have to find a different way of presentation.

Here’s why.

So, I assume most of us come from a time where forums were a thing, LiveJournal was the blogging place-to-be and deviantART and similar art communities were flourishing. You’d log in and have a two-digit number of notifications. Comments, favorites, maybe a personal message or two. I remember spending hours on the site and logging in several times over the course of one day in order to write back and forth with my fellow artists!

Today? Dust and tumbleweed. If you hold your ear to the inbox close enough you can hear the chirping of crickets. But why?

Here’s my personal theory:

The dynamics of online communities are an ever-changing phenomenon as the learned behavior of users is strongly influenced by user experience and design trends. From my personal experience, the peak of activity in art communities seemed to have been around 2005. That’s 12 years! Remember your first clunky cell phone vs. your current smartphone? That’s how incredibly fast technology advanced in just a small fraction of your lifetime. It’s basically the same for user experience and online behavior, just that it’s not so easy for us to see because it’s more of a mentality you feel than an actual, physical object we can see, touch or buy.

In the past 12 years, lots of things have changed. The concept of Like buttons started popping up everywhere. Microblogging like Twitter is a thing. Some news stories are nothing but slideshows with minimal caption. Snapchat and Instagram stories are booming. Why? Because the majority of users do not sit down for hour-long sessions on their desktop PCs after school any more and go through all of their messages. Instead, thanks to smartphones, users do it on-the-go wherever they are; like or reply to messages on their smartphone as they pop up, swipe them away and move on to the next, in the course of minutes or seconds. This means: Today’s users are used to quick reception; short, quick posts that can be consumed in seconds. This is why Clickbait, for example, is a thing, and Tinder happened.

TL;DR: Users are no longer used (and hence willing) to spending time writing comments or reading articles unless they’re very, very devoted to the subject itself. In an online world where it’s easy to drop a quick Like to give props to the artist, or even share or reblog a piece without comment if it’s relevant enough to your interests, the concept of forum- and comment-based online art communities is outdated.

This has been creeping up on us very, very slowly and is hence often – understandably – interpreted as lack of interest, so it is not surprising that some artists feel discouraged by the regression of written feedback, resulting in doubt of their own skills. Let me assure you: Your art actually rocks! In these times it just requires a different form of presentation.

So what can artists do?

  1. Make peace with the fact that in today’s online community, likes and shares have replaced comments and journal features. It is people’s way of telling you that your art is awesome.
  2. Post your art on social media channels that are currently popular. Not as a link to your deviantART gallery with a preview image where people have to tap through tumbnails three times and spend 10 kilograms of data volume through 273 redirects, but as an actual, native image post. The faster the user can see the actual piece, the better.
  3. Keep captions short and simple. If you have a lot of personal stuff to say to an image, include a link to a more detailed version (e. g. in a personal art gallery) in the caption or put it under a cut. Why? Again, the faster the user can perceive the whole thing in one, the better. Also, from my personal experience, people will refrain from reblogging art that has a lot of personal text under it (= displaying it on their personal timeline or profile) because they simply do not identify with what’s written there, and why should they?
  4. You know that annoying feature where sites like Twitter will randomly display your likes to your followers? Rely on that shit. I’ve stumbled upon some really cool art that way, and people will find your art that way as well (granted you post it publically).
  5. Use tags! This works surprisingly well, especially on Instagram, for example. I’ve had strangers drop by and like my stuff just because it contained a tag that was somehow relevant. And if it mostly makes “like for like”-commenters come to your posts? Even better! People like that tend to have a huge network, and as long as there’s traffic on your page, the website algorithms will do their job and your art will eventually pop up in strangers’ “posts you might like”.
  6. Timing is important! People’s timelines and feeds are cluttered with input that’s impossible to consume in one sitting. Make sure to post at the right times, e. g. when people sit down in the train back home from work and check their phones. I’m not going to elaborate on this in-depth but there’s enough studies out there that will help you.
  7. This one can be skipped if you’re financially dependent on selling your art, but as someone who just does art as a hobby it helped me a lot so I’m sharing it: Try to internalize the fact that you’re drawing for yourself, and only yourself. It’ll spare you a lot of frustration and save friendships; trust me.

I’m no doctor but I hope this posts helps a little and I could put a tiny ray of light into the online experience of my discouraged fellow hobby artists who are struggling with lack of self-confidence.

Please keep going – your art is awesome!

A new start, part 10

(Image does not belong to me!!)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 3038

Warnings: Language

Part 9

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!  You look amazing.  Who is your designer?”

Chris squeezed your hand as he moved to step behind you to let you have your time to shine.  You took a breath and stepped forward towards the woman.  With a bright smile, you told everyone about Mijael’s gorgeous creation.  There was no doubt that he was with his team all screaming every time you said his name.  It was the least you could do for the man.  Once all the fashion questions had been answered, the reporter eyed the handsome man behind you quickly before looking back to you. “So is Chris Evans here as your friend, supporting his costar… Or did something more develop between you on set?”

You had to laugh at the way the woman emphasized ‘more’.  Glancing back at Chris over your shoulder, it was hard to miss that giant grin on his face, or the wink he sent your way.  He loved every second of this.  “Chris is here to support me of course…”  

Not wanting to wait for the end of the sentence, Chris stepped up grabbing the microphone from the reporter.  “As her boyfriend,” he added to your statement.  That sent everyone within hearing distance into a tizzy.  You laughed, covering your now blush covered face. The reported started firing off many more questions until someone gently grabbed your arm pulling you towards the red carpet.

“[Y/N] has a lot of other people to talk to tonight.”  Petra, your publicist pulled you far enough away so you could take a moment to recover. “Girl, you need me around to keep you out of trouble and stuck talking to the same person.”

You hugged her quickly before introducing her to Chris.  After that, it was many more of the same questions being asked and answered along with a few that you chose to ignore.  One reporter had the nerve to bring up your ex, asking who was a better lover, David or Chris.  If Petra had not pulled you both away, Chris and you might have hit him.  It was all whirlwind until it was time to find your seats in the theater.  Once seated, your nerves got the better of you and your leg started to bounce. Chris laughed setting his hand on your knee.  “Baby, it will be fine.  You are getting way too anxious for this.  Just enjoy it.”

Leaning over, he kissed your temple lightly before smiling that smile of his that always caused your heart to beat out of your chest.  “That isn’t helping!”  He looked at your genuinely confused.


“You looking at me like that!  Looking so freaking hot in your tux and smiling at me as if I am the last woman on the planet.  You have no clue what that does to me.”  The goofball then laughed loudly enough to draw attention to himself, but he did not care.

“Good to know I drive you crazy almost as much as you drive me.”

“Ass.”  You teased, as you leaned over and stole kiss.  He smirked not minding one bit.  More people were starting to take their seats around you as the awards were about to start.  The purse in your hands started to vibrate from a message on your phone.  Pulling it out to look, you found it was from your mom. It was one of the pictures of you and Chris together all dressed up, with one word underneath it.


That woman was relentless and you could not prevent the sigh that escaped.  Chris raised a brow in question; laughing when you showed him exactly what it said.  Quickly you wrote a message back.

Thanks Mom for the well wishing

It took a minute because your mother was so slow at texting.  However, her response made you smile and tear up a bit.

[Y/N] [Y/M/N] you don’t need well wishes.  I know how talented you are and no matter what happens tonight you are still my best actress.

The lights dimmed in the theater as the music began.  This was it and your hands started to shake.  Chris put your phone away before holding your hands securely in his.  It was perhaps the only thing keeping your entire body from shaking.  The master of ceremonies spoke of the time honored tradition of the awards before moving into a musical number.  Your category was one of the final presentations of the night and by the time it came, you had gone to the bathroom three times to relieve your nervous bladder.

Then it was time.  The presenter of your category stepped up to the podium with a bright smile.  “Our next award for the evening is Best Actress.  The four women nominated for this award are some of Hollywood’s best and brightest. I am honored to be able to present this tonight.”  The three other actresses were announced first as you finished up the grouping. Chris leaned over quickly to whisper in your ear.

“When they say your name everyone is going to cheer and clap for you.  The world already loves you, [Y/N].  But none of them love you as much as I do.”  There was no time to react to his declaration.

“The award for Best Actress goes to… [Y/N] [Y/L/N] for Deep dark corner.”  The audience erupted into screams.  Clapping thundered throughout the theater.  Chris grinned as he forced you to stand.  He kissed you lightly before pushing you down the aisle.

Your speech was clutched in hand, as you stepped slowly onto the stage, ensuring you did not fall flat on your face.  The presenter hugged you before handing you the award and access to the podium to speak. It felt as though your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

“I truly can’t believe this right now.  I don’t think I will be able to read this speech of my cards.  Wow, thank you so very much.  So many people to thank for this. Umm… first Amelia Maxwell for writing the wonderful screenplay that, honestly, scared me to death when I read it. For telling the story about her fight against schizophrenia and giving people the chance to experience a side of the condition most do not see.  My parents, who pushed me to do something outside of my comfort zone.  Our director Doug Hartman for helping me take on this role and believing in me.  As well as the entire crew, without who we could not have made such an amazing film.  Thank you all.  And Chris… I love you baby.  Thank you.” You lifted the trophy, grinning like a fool, as you were ushered off the stage by the presenter and one of the stagehands.  Holy crap… you just announced to the world that you were in love with Chris.

Immediately you were whisked off to be interviewed by a group of reporters.  Many asked about how you were feeling and what was next for you. Even more asked about your relationship with Chris.  The rapid-fire questions had your head spinning.  Before long, you were pulled towards one of the offices to sign your life away in regards to your trophy.  Required appearances and interviews would be necessary that evening.  The after-party with more reporters and those wanting to get their time in with you.  It was all so much at one time.  You never knew how much went on behind the scenes of these shows.  

It was at least an hour before you had a chance to get back to Chris.  By then the show was over and everyone was filing out of the theater. You were stopped a few times along the way to have people congratulate your win.  It was still such an odd thing to wrap your mind around, but here it was. You had really won and within a few months, you would have the trophy to display at home.  Well, that is if your mother did not steal it for herself to show off at her house.  Damn you might have to put it in a locked case to keep her away from it.  

Chris was standing, with your purse tucked under his arm, by your seats talking to Petra.  It was hard to miss the grin on his face when he saw you.  He pulled you close, kissing you as though it had been months since he had seen you last. “Couldn’t wait to tell the world how you feel about me?”

Laughing quietly you wrapped your arms around his neck.  He leaned his forehead against yours.  “Nope. Though I was still in shock from the bombshell, you dropped on me.  I couldn’t even read my speech.”  He stole another kiss before Petra spoke up from behind you.

“Ugh, you two are such sugary cuteness I am going to be sick.  Come on, you have other people to inflict this on tonight.”  The sarcasm in her voice was apparent and made both of you laugh, as you were lead out to the waiting limo.  On the drive to the first after party, you started to read a few of the texts you had received.

“That damn thing, I swear must have gone off fifty times in the first thirty seconds you walked to the stage.”  Chris laughed shaking his head.  Pulling out his own phone to text his parents.  “My family said ‘Congratulations. We are so happy for you.’

“Oh that is so sweet! Tell them, thank you.”  It meant a lot coming from his family.  Chris was right; you had a little over fifty messages from assorted family, friends, and acquaintances.  There would not be the time to be able to go through them all now.  You messaged your parents, your brother and your agent, thanking them and letting them all know you would talk to them in the morning.  Then you thought twice about it and sent a message to Mijael thanking him for the entire package tonight.  He sent back a picture of him blowing you a kiss.  

The first party of the night consisted of you talking to many people you did not know that were involved with the awards.  You smiled and answered questions when you were asked, all while making sure Chris was not far away.  This was one of the downfalls of winning for you, having to do all the PR stuff.  After a couple hours, you were given some breathing room to dance and have a good time.  Several glasses of champagne later you were feeling relaxed and able to show a true smile. Chris was being wonderful and had only had water so he could keep an eye on you while you enjoyed yourself.  

It was a wonderful night with so many important things happening.  Your lips were starting to dry out from how much you kissed Chris and how many people you had to talk to.  Excusing yourself for a moment, you needed to freshen yourself up and make sure you did not look a fright in front of all the cameras.  On your way back to find Chris, a voice stopped you.

“[Y/N].”  It was not a voice you wanted to hear tonight.  Not a face you wanted to see.  Nevertheless, you were not going to be outwardly rude, at least not in this public place.  

“David, I didn’t know you were here.”  Turning to look at him, he stood before you in a dark blue tuxedo.  

“I’m making my way around a few of the parties.  My agent thought I should get my face out there again, since I have been trying to lay low recently.  Since… well you know.”  Nodding you clutched your purse close against you.  


“I just wanted to congratulate you.  You deserved it.  The movie was amazing and you brought it to life.  There was no competition, it was yours.”  Nodding slightly, you smiled half-heartedly.  You did not want to be here, having this conversation with him.

“Thanks, it was a surprise to me.”  You took small steps, slowly making your way out of the hall towards the crowd.  

“Are you happy?  I mean you seem really happy.  I don’t know if I ever saw you smile that big before. You lit up the room.  But you always did.  [Y/N]… I miss you so much.  I’m in agony here.  I need…”  David took a step towards you, forcing you to take several steps backward.

“David, don’t.  I am happy.  Happier than I ever have been.  I am so crazy in love with Chris that I just declared it to the world. Speaking of which I need to get back to him. This and you aren’t going to ruin my night.  There is no chance for us again, ever.  Please move on.”  If you had not been wearing high heels you would have ran, but instead you walked as quickly as they would allow.  Chris walked up to you with a look of concern on his face.

“[Y/N] you okay?”  

“Yeah, fine.  You ready to go to the next party?  I think I am over this one.”  He searched your face for a moment, knowing that there was something more to it.  Thankfully, he decided not to press further.

“This is your night. I’m here to do anything you want. Let’s go if you want.”  Kissing you gently before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder leading you out towards the limo.  The rest of the night was amazing.  You had the chance to talk to friends and former costars.  One of your old directors dragged you on to the dance floor as he used to, when the crew would go out bar hopping.  Much more champagne was had and many more pictures were taken.  It was a good time for both you and Chris.  It was nice to not have to worry about the world finding out about your relationship.  Now you could just enjoy each other.

By 4 AM Chris had your purse under his arm again and both of your shoes tucked into the pockets of his jacket.  He had to help your drunk ass from the limo into the house.  Though, he was enjoying the giggly drunk version of yourself.  “Do you know how freaking hot you are?  Like I mean, reallllllly hot.  Damn and you’re all mine.”  You giggled loud as you spun around in your pretty dress in the living room.

“Yes ma’am all yours. You ready for bed?  You have to be exhausted.” Shaking your head wildly causing some wisps of hair to fall out of the clips.

“Nope, I wanna dance!  Dance with me.”  He laughed shaking his head.  Shrugging out of his jacket and pulling off the tie.  His shoes had already been left by the door.

“[Y/N], we have been dancing all night, baby.  You said your feet hurt.”

“No we danced for everyone else.  Now it’s just us.  Come on, pleeeeease.”  You pulled out the sad lip and batted your lashes at him.  There was no defense against the lip and the lashes; the man was already lost the moment he first laid eyes on you.  Turning on the music first, he wrapped you in his arms.  The song was slow but you did not hear it. You just wanted to look at his face.

“This what you wanted?”

“Mmmhmm.”  Several song played with neither of you saying a word. Just staring at the other and grinning like idiots.  At the beginning of the night, you had already decided you were not going to wait anymore. You wanted him more than anything else in this world and it was time you went further.  The award and his three little word declaration had turned the night upside down.  Nope you did not want to wait anymore.  Tonight you wanted it to end with the two of you together.  “I think I’m ready for bed.  Help me get this thing off?  It’s already hard enough to walk.”

With a nod, you spun around glancing at him over your shoulder as he started to pull the zipper down. “You go, am going to make sure everything is locked up and I will meet you up there.”

You kissed him long before making your way upstairs.  The dress slipped easily to the floor, pooling around your ankles as you stepped out of it.  Glancing in the mirror, you found bright pink cheeks from the alcohol and pure excitement of the night.  In your drunken state, you still thought you looked cute, and hoped the sexy lingerie set you had been wearing underneath the dress all night would tease him.  After several minutes without him coming up stairs you went down to find him.  Padding quietly down the stairs you found him reading over a piece of paper he had in hand.  He had not heard you behind him.

“Hoping I would fall asleep without you?”  At the sound of your voice, he turned to find you standing at the base of the stairs in just your black cheeky panties with matching strapless bra.  It left little to the imagination.

“Holy shit…”  Chris’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw you. Whatever was on the paper was forgotten. “I… umm… I was… distracted.  Were you wearing that the whole time?”  Biting your lip gently you nodded at him.  “Damn… It’s a good thing I didn’t know that.  There would not have been after parties.”

Another giggle left your lips as you walked towards him.  “Come to bed?”  You did not give him a chance to answer as you kissed him, showing him exactly how much you wanted him.  He tried to resist for a moment but his resolve crumbled quickly.  That kiss grew into something much more, well that was until he pulled back having to breathe hard as he stared at you.

“You are trying to kill me.”

“No, I am trying to seduce you.  You had better live through it.  I have lots of plans for you in the future.”  Two steps was all it took for him to move to you, picking you up in his arms and walk up the stairs.

“Please, don’t hate me in the morning.”

(Part 11 coming soon!)

Tags: @feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @almondbuttercups  @thegirlwithnodragontattoo @magellan-88  @aquabrie@jensenxnina @thedoctorsnerdgirl  @waywardswain @tacohead13  @beckyboo1188  @pegasusdragontiger   @our-chaoticwhispers @castallandiangelo  @smoothdogsgirl  @kitty11223   @sf0206 @debzybrazy @theresnotenoughwords @smurfielovesyouu  @adeptkillsyasse  

I’m Sorry || Do Kyungsoo

Requested: Yes / No

Word Count: 1,324

Do Kyungsoo + Reader + Angst

A/N: This is my first angst and I hope I did it right. Have a great day~

You’ve always thought marriage was the most beautiful thing in the world.

You remember when you were five years old, you had a book filled with drawings of gowns and cakes you wanted for your wedding. You wanted the most beautiful flowers to decorate the aisles. You dreamed of wearing the most elegant wedding gown, the most luxurious venues, your favorite band playing while you dance with your husband on the dance floor. You had it all planned, all at the age of five. You were a dreamer.

However, only a certain man changed everything.

All those fancy dresses, expensive venues, aesthetic decorations, and blooming flowers didn’t matter. They all lost their values when you met him.

Do Kyungsoo.

He made the idea of marriage beyond beautiful.

It didn’t matter if your gown was only a rental, and if the venue was at an old cabin located in the forest, or if the flowers were those cheap plastic blooms that can be bought at Target and your cake was an ordinary one-layered Vanilla cake. It didn’t matter. You thought, as long as it was Do Kyungsoo who will be standing waiting at the end of the aisle, every thing else didn’t matter.

The beginning was so beautiful.

But you forgot, that in order for something to be beautiful, you have to destroy something perfect.

Fights and arguments are inevitable.

You remember Kyungsoo’s voice booming in your house before leaving and slamming the door shut. Tears filled your eyes, your body starts to tremble but he didn’t seem to care. You don’t even know how the fight started, but you heard those words that pierced your heart deeper than an arrow.

‘He didn’t mean it’

You thought.

‘He loves me’


‘He’ll come home’

He did come home that night. Only smelling like sweat and liquor. He was stumbling when he entered your house. His eyes bloodshot red, his lips dry and chapped, his skin paler than ever. Yet no matter how disheveled he looked, beauty was still radiating right from the core. 

You remembered putting him back to bed. You nursed him, changed his clothes, wiped his body. You remember him grabbing your arm when you were caressing his cheek.

“I’m sorry”

Distance has always been in between the two of you. When he’s away for their tour, the rumors start.

You remember reading an article about your husband seen together with a female idol. There were pictures, there were evidences, and there were people supporting him.

You remembered screaming and crying on the phone.

“Who is she?!”

“Have you forgotten about me?”

“Do you not love me anymore?!”

His silence was unbearable. Your chest heaved, your heart pounded, your heart ached. It was unbelievable how a single person can make you feel this way. You were too caught up in thinking how a single person can brighten up your day, and how they can easily warm you up like the first day of summer after Winter and Spring, how a single person can lift you up.

You forgot that when things are too bright, you get blinded.

You forgot that when things are too warm, you overheat and suffocate.

You forgot that being lifted too high up, you have a long way to fall and crash down.

You were too caught up thinking how a single person can make you feel such joy that you forgot a single person also has the power to break all of these into millions of tiny pieces.

“I’m sorry.“

Distance isn’t the only one that can get between the two of you. Sometimes, even though he is home and free from touring around the world, timing can ruin the day.

You can be too caught up with your job, always trying your best in order to get promoted. Kyungsoo would suddenly have emergency meetings and interviews. Sometimes, your husband would come home late at night only to find you already asleep. He’ll then wake up in the morning with your side of the bed empty, indicating you have already left for work. 

You remember one time, you forced yourself to finish all of your paper works in hopes that you’ll get more free hours. Your anniversary was near and you both planned on having a simple dinner at home. Kyungsoo always cooked for you and you wanted to return the favor.

You cooked his favorite meal, making it extra special for the special evening. You remembered wearing the most stunning (and the most expensive) dress you’ve ever seen. You remembered how breathtaking the candles looked in the dark as it brightened the room. You remembered writing him a poem of your love. There were slight tear stains on the paper, which you wrote an apology for at the end of the paper, an evidence of how much you poured your heart in one single piece of paper.

Three hours later, you only received a text message from your husband.

“I’m sorry“

How many times have he said those words to you in hopes that it can make you feel any better. In hopes that it will make you think he can make it up to you someday. In hopes that when he comes home after a tiring day, he will still be greeted by a loving wife with the sweet smile he falls for over and over again. 

Kyungsoo was always right.

When he hoped a sorry can make you feel better, he was right.

You remembered how your lips curled up into a faint smile as you watched Kyungsoo’s eyes staring intently at yours, his hand that was once holding your arm moving up to cup your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said earlier. I love you.”

You remembered hearing Kyungsoo’s faint sobbing at the end of the line. His voice was trembling when he desperately searched for something to say. It felt like the waves crashing, the thunders roaring, the earth shook beneath you. His cries were your nemesis; your weakness. It was like the gods above had designed and handcrafted something specifically for you that can break you with just a single puff of air. It was Kyungsoo crying.

Holding him and cradling him in your arms was all you wanted right now. To comfort him and whisper sweet words in his ears to reassure him that you will be okay and that everything was alright.

But it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry. It was a publicity they forced me to do. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you.“

And then suddenly, everything was okay.

You remembered feeling a hand creep on your waist, feeling it encircle around you. Kyungsoo’s scent was so familiar to you. It smelled like flowers on a sunny day, like a fresh opened book. It smelled like something that can rip your heart open and grip it so hard until it stopped beating. It smelled like something that can touch you so soft and gentle that it will cause you to melt in a second. It smelled like the love of your life.

“I’m sorry. The management needed me a little longer. I bought you your favorite flowers and special Chinese food. Let’s go have the best dinner date. I love you.“

You stopped counting how many times he had apologized to you. No matter how many times you counted, no matter how many breaths you waste from keeping track, no matter how many days you spend feeling upset, it will always lead to one thing.


Because you remembered when you walked down the aisle and how Kyungsoo wouldn’t stop smiling. You remembered him reaching out for your hand before he whispered how beautiful you were. You remembered exchanging your vows; I will love you deeply, in sorrow and joy.

All the mistakes, fights, and misunderstandings would soon vanish. Because as long as it was Do Kyungsoo, everything else didn’t matter.

“I love you.“

Imagine traveling to New York without Chris. (Part B)

A/N: Part 3B Is here, and I know it hasn’t been a day but Part A was short and this one is a quick continuation before we move on to the exciting parts in Part 4A. 😋 You can read the related mini-series and the previous parts here: (Mini-series - Masterlist; Mini-series Spin-off: ‘Unexpected Reader’, ‘Little Ways Away’, ‘She Said Yes’, and ‘Miss Graduate’ - Masterlist; ‘Something Blue’: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3A)

Ava and Sebastian sat outside your dressing room, drinking bubbly and eating cake while you tried on your first dress. It was a Vera Wang ball gown; a brand you’d thought you’d never see let alone try on. The salesperson had recommended it, along with a few others that she’d say she’d bring to you as soon as you were ready for them. The service was great, which was a perk considering it was a fancy boutique and you were Chris Evans’ fiancé. Even the bubbly and cake were complimentary, which your shopping partners were incredibly happy about. You were pregnant and unable to drink, and cake wasn’t something you felt like eating so Ava and Sebastian kindly offered to take your share off your hands. They were having a grand old time outside while you struggled behind the door to get inside the cupcake they called a dress. It was stunning, yes, but it was not particularly easy to put on which was why-

“Fuck!” Ava and Sebastian jumped up when they heard you cuss along with a loud thud. You’d stepped on the overflowing material, fell forward, and whacked your forehead against the mirror. The two of them lowered their champagne flutes and cake plates, and rushed to the door. “Owww.” You rubbed your forehead, wincing. “Stupid dress,” you muttered bitterly, slapping the puffy material that looked innocent resting around your legs when it was an extreme tripping hazard. You could imagine yourself wearing that on your wedding day, at least not if you wanted to get down the aisle in one piece.

“Are you okay?” Ava knocked on the door, sharing a worried look with Sebastian. They both knew their consequences if you came home with an injury of any sort, they’d gotten a text from Chris upon your arrival: “keep my bride safe, return her to me without so much as a scratch.” It was mostly humorous, but there was some sense of seriousness; you were carrying a child now. “Babe, do you need some help?”

“I needed help five minutes ago,” you grumbled as the door swung open. Ava pressed her lips together, whereas Sebastian tried not to laugh. “This is a real tripping hazard.” You picked up as much of the puffy material as you could, taking careful steps so you couldn’t trip and fall face first. “Can you finish zipping me up?” You asked Ava and she nodded, doing as you’d asked. “I could only reach so far.”

“There you go.” She zipped and tucked the zipper behind the little slit. “Wow,” she breathed, admiring your reflection as you did the same. Sebastian moved behind her, hugging her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. He smiled because not only did you look beautiful, he was imagining a time when it would be his fiancé’s turn. “That is so pretty, you look so good.”

“It is very pretty,” you nodded in agreement then sighed.

“What is it?” Ava asked, pulling away from Sebastian to join your side. “You look great in it,” she complimented, adjusting the skirt surrounding your lower half. “And if you’re worried about the baby bump, it’s not like the wedding is far away. You won’t have a baby bump by then, I mean- look at you, your genes will hide the fact that you’re pregnant until five months. That’s what happened for your mom, I have no doubt it’ll happen for you too.”

“I’m not worried about the baby bump, I’m worried about falling face first in this thing.” You turned and said, then laughed when they did. “I already fell trying to put it on, can you imagine adding heels to the picture? No thanks,” you shook your head then turned back to your reflection in the mirror. “As pretty as this is, it’s not me.”

“That’s okay,” Ava helped you with the zip and the dress as she walked you back to the dressing room. “This is only the first one, there are a gazillion more waiting to be tried on. Just take that off and I’ll go grab you another. Do you want to try another Vera Wang, or do you want to move down your list of designers?”

“Honestly,” you chuckled. “I don’t care who the designer is as long as the dress suits me.” Ava smiled and nodded, taking Sebastian’s hand. You closed the door behind you as they went in search of another dress for you. It was surprisingly easier to get out of the dress than it was to get in. You slipped on the complimentary silk robe and walked out to sit on the lounge, grabbing your phone off the table to text Chris.

Tried one, didn’t suit. Ava and Seb are getting me a new one.

Your phone chimed not seconds after you sent your message and you felt your heart ache slightly knowing Chris was just waiting by the phone to talk to you. You wished he could’ve been here too, but you didn’t want to break traditions and ruin the biggest surprise for a groom on their wedding day. You read his response: “Wow, you’re trusting Sebastian Stan to pick your wedding dress?” And you felt slightly better, knowing he could still joke.

Sebastian has great taste, he is marrying my best friend after all.

And I’m marrying you, but I still have a stylist. So what’s your point?

You giggled and typed a response as you wandered away from the couch, absentmindedly browsing the dresses in your vicinity. You believed the rack you were browsing was a rack of Elie Saab, a designer you’d loved for a while now. You always saw his dresses as works of art, so delicate and intricate in its designs. Just as you were about to hit send, you glanced away from your phone to look at the dress you were feeling the material of. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and you quickly lowered your phone onto the carpet floor to pull the dress from the rack. There was no way; you’d found the exact dress you looked at while describing the wedding dress for your mini-series. How this dress was still available after so many seasons had passed was beyond you, but you needed to try it on. God, you hoped it was in your size.

You were so excited, you left your phone on the floor and quickly rushed into the dressing room to try it on. You held you breath the entire time, from the second you slipped into the gown to the moment you had to zip yourself into it. You finally breathed when you realized it was a perfect, like- an absolutely perfect, fits-like-a-glove, it-was-made-for-you fit.

“Why did you put your phone on the ground, Y/N?” You heard Ava ask. “Here, put it in her bag.” She passed it to Sebastian who was hanging the dresses he’d gotten with Ava on the empty rack they provided for you to hang all your try-ons. “Babe, there this one that I think- Oh my God,” Ava gasped when she saw you exit the dressing room. “Is that…”

“The dress I’ve been in-love with since I was sixteen, yes,” you nodded eagerly. “I found it over there and it’s a perfect fit, Ava.” You walked over to the mirror with absolute ease unlike the first one and almost whimpered at the sight of yourself. “Isn’t it amazing?” You looked at her through the mirror; her lips were still parted in awe. “Tell me it’s not meant to be.”

“I can’t,” she shook her head, walking over to you. “This dress is clearly made for you, like- oh my God, I can’t see you in anything else on the twenty-eighth of September. I really, really can’t.” You turned around, squealing. “Chris is going to lose his mind when he sees you walk down the aisle.”

“Oh, definitely.” Sebastian nodded in agreement. “I think we can call it a day ‘cause Ava’s right, there is nothing in here that will suit you better than that dress you have on now.” You smiled, mouthing a 'thank you’. “Can you do me a favor though?” He held up your phone, trying not to laugh and you knew he’d read Chris’ text. “Tell him I found that dress?”

“Sure thing,” you laughed.

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @camerica96 @thestarlighthotel @sf0206 (I’ve kept the original taglist which I will utilize when I’m back on one shots, but seeing as I’m working on the series now- I’ll just be tagging those I notice follow the series. Let me know if I left you out and I’ll add you back in.)

Part 4A

Girl Crush

Right okay so this took forever but it includes the first three femslash feb prompts and is also a late birthday gift to @starscrumbling :D EDIT: I forgot a read more lol woops

Summary: After not having spoke for a little while, Alya decides to call Marinette, only to run into her in an unlikely place.


Snow fell over the city, wrapping it in a blanket of cool cleanliness as lights shut off and many Parisians went to sleep. The sky was dark but the city glowed softly still, and with its silence, very few would find it perfect to be outside just then.

Alya was not one of those few. Sure, sometimes the quiet could be nice, and being alone could be a gift, but there was always such a thing as too much. While she trekked through the snow, the quiet began to bug her, and it didn’t take long for her to think of a solution. Removing her hands from the warmth of her pockets, she took her phone out and began scrolling through her contacts.

“Wow,” she breathed, feeling a little guilty when she finally got to the one she wanted. “I… haven’t talked to her in so long.” She tapped the contact, and her thumb hovered over the call button. She didn’t notice she’d paused in the middle of the park, and her brows drew together as she considered what the consequences of calling so late could be.

On the one hand, they could catch up and the quiet of the city could be drowned out by their talking. On the other, Alya could be cursed out for waking her up. Deciding that even being cursed at was better than the lonely feeling she had, and before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the call button and put her phone to her ear.

Keep reading

Birthday Wishes

Word count: 3,423

Request: Your father dies which causes your mom to snap, leading to a big fight. Later, Kai finds you and comforts you

A/N: This was the harderst imagine I’ve ever had to write. I hit a brick wall with this one multiple times and still not sure if it’s ok, but I hope you will like it.

*gif by me

‘Dad, where are you taking me?’ You asked him gently, still holding onto his hand tightly, his hand twice as big as yours, protecting your fragile little hand. He looked down at you and a big smile flashed across his face, thinking what a beautiful and happy 5 year old daughter he has. He stopped and crouched down in front of you, getting on the same height as you, his eyes looking into yours.

'Horse riding.’ He simply uttered out and watched how your worried little face turned into the most excited and delighted, emotions you didn’t even know existed, traveled through your small body.

'Really? Are we really here?’ He reached out his hands and tucked on your jacket, zipping it up, making sure you were warm enough and won’t get sick.

'We’re here, sweetie. Just as I promised you awhile back. I told you I would take you here someday and a little bird has told me that that was your birthday wish.’ He trailed off as you lifted up your shoulders and tried to hide a smile behind your jacket, but you only felt shy because you knew it was true. Your dad has made every single wish you had made for your birthday come true. He has never let you down and being with him was always the best time of the day.

'I love you.’ You jumped into his embrace almost making him fall back, your arms wrapping around him, your lips planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

'I love you too, little one.’ You chuckled at his words, his finger booping your nose before he got up on his feet again, his hand still holding lightly onto yours. 'Now, let’s go. We wouldn’t want to miss out on in, isn’t that right?’ You nodded and jumped from excitement, your legs somehow making larger steps than your dad’s even though they were a lot shorter. You couldn’t hold back the happines or excitement when you saw a beautiful horse that a nice lady brought out or when you first sat on that horse, your dad right next to you on a beautiful black one, his mane shiny under the sunlight illuminating on it.
He has watched your every step, your every movement and then with years, how gracefully you moved over a big field, your horse listening to whatever you said. Shee became your best friend, someone you had spent so much time with but your dad was always there with you.

'I guess there’s nothing else left to teach. You’ve managed to become even better than I am.’ Your dad uttered, making you chuckle, his fingers playing with the grass underneath him.

'I just had the best teacher, that’s all. Besides, none of this would have happened if I didn’t get Shelly as my birthday present from you.’ You smiled at him and he immediately knew what that smile meant. It was another thank you even though he said that it wasn’t necessary since you have already thanked him a thousand times.

'I promised to make all your wishes come true. That was one of them. I knew you and Shelly would get along perfectly. She’s just like you. Beautiful, strong, a little bit stubborn and knows how to love with all her heart, just like you do.’ He uttered, a smile flashing across yout face, his words striking down on you, a dash of a wanting to cry feeling traveling through yout body but it escaped very quickly. 'You’re an amazing person and I believe that you deserve the best there is out there.

'I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I wanted to make you proud, whatever I did, my first thought was - do it as your dad would want to, do it in a way that he would be proud of -.’ You said and looked down at your fingers, burried in a beautiful green grass, small dandelions surrounding both you and your dad.

'I am proud of you, I have always been proud of you. Even in your crazy times or when you were so stubborn as a kid, I was always proud of you because you were my little girl. You still are.’ His hand was placed softly on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly as a mark of support and confirmation to the words that he just said.

'I will always be your little girl.’

'Always. Whenever you need an advice or someone to just tell you that everything will be alright, I’m here for you. I just want you to know that.’

'Thank you, dad.’ You said and placed your head on his shoulder, his head leaning a little bit to press against yours slightly. You wrapped your arms around his arm, as you felt loved just by a simple hug. 'I love you.’ You whispered, your dad’s lips curling up into a big smile when he heard those three simple words.

'I love you too, little one.’ He kissed the top of your head before slowly standing up and placing his hands on his waist. 'Now, shall we do a simple competition? I think that would be fair.’

'Again?’ You pulled yourself up onto your feet and crossed your arms, a big smirk adorning your beautiful face. 'You really want to lose again, don’t you?’

'Oh, you are too sure in yourself, sweetie.’ You chuckled at his words, your eyes looking down at your shoes for a split second before looking at your dad again. 'I tell you what, let’s race. From here to our home. The loser has to make a big pile of pancakes. Sounds like a good deal?’

'Sounds like a fantastic deal.’ You trailed off and hopped on your horse, getting a hold on a halter, your hand gently tracing over Shelly’s mane. 'You better prepare your apron, dad.’

'We will see about that.’ He blurted out and started riding, a beautiful black horse running as fast as he could, his legs gracefully touching the ground as that sounds was like music to your ears. You have always believed in Shelly and she has never let you down and this time wasn’t any different. Shelly took the lead just before reaching the house, your dad ending up second. You pulled the halter back gently, your horse stopping as you gently stroke it, thanking Shelly for doing a great job once again.

'I told you I could do it.’ You said proudly, both you and your dad jumping off the horse, leading them into a beautiful barn that you designed specially just for your horses, a place where you and your dad spent a lot of time, feeding them or just simply sitting on a pile of hay, talking about your day.

'Hungry?’ Your dad asked, placing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you in closer.


A beautiful memory crossed your mind, a single tear streaming down your face as you just came back from your dad’s funeral. You couldn’t bare the feeling of not being able to see him again, not being able to go horse riding again or have one of those precious moments you did together. Your whole world crashed down when you heard how your dad has died in a terrible car accident, ending up driving off a cliff. You knew your dad was a fantastic driver and you refused to believe that it was his fault of ending up like that.

You spent days in your room, sitting on your bed and just stare at a blank space, your eyes adjusting to only the darkness in your room as your vision occassionally got blury because of your tears that had ended on the bed underneath you, small wet spots on the covers. You looked at your phone and saw dozens of messages and calls from your boyfriend, Kai. He has always been there for you as well, just like your dad was. Through thick and thin, through every problems you have been through, he was there, but you couldn’t even look at him at that moment. You could barely look at him when he was right there at your dad’s funeral with his arms wrapped around you. It was mostly because you knew you would end up crying even more because of how your dad loved Kai and thought how he was the only one good enough for his little girl. You knew you would break down in front of him and a simple sollution was to ignore him as long as you could. A buzzing sound echoed through the room as Kai flashed on the screen. Another call - you thought and flipped the phone over so you didn’t have to watch it anymore. You finally gathered your strenght and got up off that bed and walked out of your room, to finally eat something better than just water and a couple of pieces of bread. You walked in, your mother sitting at the kitchen table, with her head burried in a book. Your mom lifted up her head and saw her daughter standing there, but she didn’t say a word. A smile disappeared from your face as you couldn’t understand how your own mother didn’t even want to say anything to you.

'Are we gonna talk about it or not?’ You asked her, her fingers slowly tracing a beautiful light varnish on the kitchen counter.

'What’s there to talk about?’ Your mother trailed off and flipped a page in the book she was reading, driving you crazy. You took a few steps towards her until you reached the table, your hand slapping against the book, making your mother jump at surprise and shock.

'Please talk to me.’ You whispered, your tears fighting to roll down your cheeks, your words sounding more like cries.

'Why? Huh? What do you want me to do? Do you want to go horse riding with me? Or do you want to make pancakes? We can also go to a karaoke night at that diner, you pick.’ Your mother’s words cut deep through you like the sharpest knife in the world, tearing your heart in half. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you couldn’t stand your mother’s behaviour anymore. You started walking away from your mother until a book went flying by your face, making you jump in shock. You turned around, wide eyed, only to find your mother standing a few feet away from you, her arms resting on her waist. 'Why are you leaving? You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you?’

'Not like that.’ You muttered.

'Oh really? Then, how would you like to talk?’

'Why are you like this?’ You asked, your mind fighting itself as you tried to figure out why has your mother become this kinda person, someone who simply doesn’t care anymore abour her family.

'Like what?’

'Like this! You were supposed to- we were supposed to be here for each other, be able to lean on each other, not ignore and insult. I lost my dad and you haven’t spoken to me for an entire week-’

'I lost my husband. Does that tell you anything? He was the love of my life and he died. I-’ she took a deep breath as she fought her tears, her hands shaking as she spoke. 'I can’t live like this anymore.’

'So you are just gonna give up on your life, on me? Is that what all of this is about?’ You asked but you were scared of the answer your mother was about to give you. You were scared of your mother confirming your words, your heart aching at the thought of that.

'Just… be quiet, ok?’ Your mother blurted out, those not being the words you expected.


'Excuse me?’ Your mother asked, her brows furrowing in confussion.

'I’m not gonna be quiet. I want to know why are you so-’

'Because this was your fault!’

You froze completely as your mother stared at you with a blank look on her face. Tears streamed down your face, your mother’s words hurting you more than anything. After all you have been through, hearing the words this was your fault broke your heart into million pieces and caused your tears to stream down your cheeks.

’M- my fault? How- how can you say that?’ You cried out, not bothered by your tears dropping down on your shirt, staining it, as drop by drop slowly landed on your dark shirt, your mother watching you intensely.

'Maybe he would still be here if he didn’t have to travel for that stupid competition of yours.’

'I can’t believe you just said that to me.’ You trailed off, your voice shaking and so quiet that you weren’t even sure if she heard what you said. You spun around on your heel and walked out of the house, slamming the doors behind you. You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and ran into the barn as you prepared Shelly and climbed on her, holding onto the halter. Shelly ran as fast as she could, a cold breeze gently caressing your cheeks and your hair, making you shiver a little bit, but you ignored it because it had only meant that you were going away from your mother as fast as you wanted. You kept repeating your mother’s words in your head, over and over, thinking if she was right and the thought of that was eating you inside out. It was a complete torture and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You stopped and jumped off your horse, your feet landing perfectly on the green grass, your fingers burrying into your hair. You felt as if you were choking, as if someone had pressed their hands strongly onto your chest, stopping you from inhaling and letting some fresh air to get to your lungs, making you drop down on your knees and burry your head in your hands as you started crying, tear after tear falling down on the grass.

'What are you doing here?’ Your mother said, Kai standing at the front door with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking nervous for some reason and maybe a little bit scared when he saw your mother having a glass of wine in her hand and her eyes swollen and red from crying. 'She’s not here and I don’t know if she will ever come back.’

'What do you mean?’ He asked gently, trying to keep calm and not freak out over her words and the fact that she said that you might never come back.

'I don’t care really, you know. I don’t. I’m sure she will be fine.’ She trailed off.

'Where is she?’ Kai asked again, his hands slightly shaking but as he was hiding them in his pockets, it was impossible to see them.

'I told her that it was her fault. For her father’s death.’

'You what?’

'Yup.’ She uttered, emphasizing the letter p.

'With all the respect, but, how could you possibly say that to her? Do you not know how she feels right now? In how much pain she is and that she needs all the support she can get? She needs you right now, you need to be there for her and-’

'Is she there for me? Is she? No. Instead of that, she’s riding that stupid horse of hers.’

'If you weren’t acting like that, she would have been here for you. Goodbye.’

He ran as fast as he could, all through the town, through places he thought you would be, but there was one spot you loved the most, that meant to you the most and he knew that that’s where you were. He was a few feet away from you when he saw your head leaning on your knees, your legs pulled all the way to your body, your arms wrapped around them as you kept staring at the distance.

Your body jerked a little bit when you felt a hand on your back, but when you saw who it was, your body relaxed, even though it has only made your tears to start falling again.

'Hey.’ Kai whispered and sat down on the grass beside you, his arms wrapping tightly around your body while your head remained pressed against his chest, your tears staining his shirt, but he didn’t care. He felt relaxed that he found you, but seeing you broken like that and how you were hurting, broke his heart into million pieces. 'Hey.’ He said quietly, his voice cracking as he was holding back his tears, a lump in his throat barely letting him speak. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the back of your head, his hand caressing your head.

'He’s gone.’ You cried out quietly, your voice barely audible. 'Forever.’

'I know, but-’ he cupped your face and lifted your head up, his eyes meeting yours. He swallowed hard when he saw your swollen and red eyes boring into his, his thumb gently wiping your tears away. 'I know he’s looking at you right now and thinking how proud he is of you.’ Your eyes closed as you cried out quietly, another tear rolling down your cheek. You felt tired and exhausted from all the crying but you couldn’t get yourself to stop crying.

'No.’ you shook your head, tugging on Kai’s shirt while your hand kept punching his chest. He looked up and tried to blink his tears away, your punches making his breathing uneven, but he didn’t care. He understood why you had to do it and he had no intentions in stopping you, understanding why he needed to be your punching bag for a short amount of time.

'Yes.’ he grabbed your hands, holding them tightly with his own. 'He is proud to have such an amazing daughter who has grown up into such a strong and a powerful woman. He will always be proud of you, no matter what you do. You will always be his little girl.’

'I have no one. I’m all alone.’

'Yes you do. You have me and your mom. No matter how hard it is now, she will realize she made a mistake. But I’m here now and I will forever protect you.’ You lifted your head up, seeing the pain in his beautiful blue eyes. You kept staring at him, watching his every move, the way he blinked and followed every exhale he made.

'He made you promise him that, right? He made you promise him that you will protect me.’

'I would protect you either way. But one night, he said to me ’You better protect my little girl. I said always, sir. She means the world to me.’ Kai looked down at his fingers, intertwining them. 'He said, if my daughter ever calls you an idiot in front of me, you’ll have to play golf with me because that’s how I’ll now you screwed something up. Golf every saturday.’ You chuckled at his words and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes finding Kai’s.

'You hate golf.’

'I do.’ He laughed. 'But you know I would do anything for you and to be honest, I was a little bit scared. I suck at golf.’ You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your head resting on Kai’s shoulder. He intertwined his fingers with yours, his fingertips gently tracing your knuckles. 'He was a good man. I know how much he meant to you.’

'I don’t think I will ever be ok. I- I can’t imagine my life like this, without him, it’s impossible.’

'Listen, if you need me to stay with you every day and night, I will. I know that no one can replace your father and he should never be replaced, but if you need someone to be with you, you know you have me. Forever.’

'I know.’ You leaned in slowly and kissed him gently, his palms resting on your cheeks, his hands warm, making you feel relaxed. 'Can I stay at your place tonight, please?’

'Of course.’ He smiled at you and wrapped his arms around you tightly as you stared at the beautiful sunset in front of you. It looked magical, such beautiful colours adorning the sky and how beautifully the sun illuminated on the water, making it look like it was filled with millions of little diamonds. 'You don’t even have to ask.’

A new start, part 6

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2133

Warnings: Language and fluff =)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Once Chris had driven away, you finally went into the house.  Everything felt different.  Everything looked better.  You were past your crush and heavily into liking this man.  There was not so much fear anymore.  Getting to know him, the man he was, helped that.  He showed you how you should be treated whether as a friend or as something more.  Tonight had been wonderful and you felt like you were going to burst out of your skin with excitement.  There was no way you were going to be able to sleep at this point.  At least not until you got rid of some of the energy surging through your veins.  You turned up the music on your phone and took a shower first thing.  Singing at the top of your lungs and dancing in the shower stall.  The dance party continued for at least another thirty minutes in the bedroom after you had gotten your pajamas on.  

As your body started to tire out, you received a text message.  You looked at the clock and realized it was just after midnight, your heart started to beat wildly thinking something was wrong.  Running over to your phone, you saw it was from Chris.

You awake?  I can’t sleep.  

Sighing loudly you climbed into bed, giving yourself a few moments to let your heart rate return to normal.

Actually yes I am.  Your text just scared the shit out of me.

His return text was quick.

Sorry.  I know it’s late.  I just couldn’t sleep.  Honestly I am too hyped up from our date.

You read over the words several times before you responded.  It boggled your mind that he was feeling the exact same way you were right now.  

I am too.  I’ve been dancing around like a mad woman trying to get rid of some of this energy.

I debated going for a run but it’s late and I don’t need an ax murderer hacking me to death.  The headlines would suck.

You laughed aloud, shaking your head.  The man was insane.

Yeah it would be awful.  “Captain America can’t hack it”

LOL Wow that’s even worse. Really glad now I didn’t go.

Smiling, you settled back into bed.  As you thought about it, you did not have to be on set until the afternoon.  You had scenes with some of the supporting actors in the movie.  The scenes with Chris would not be until the day after.  They were fewer now that the movie was close to finishing.  Only two more weeks to go, then you would head home for a month before you were slated for your next filming.  Since you did not have to be up early, you made the choice, flipped through your contacts and hit send.  Chris picked up almost immediately.

“I wasn’t expecting a phone call.  Just thought we would text until one of us crashed.”  That damn voice of his made your stomach do a flip as soon as your heard it.

“I know.  But neither of us can sleep and I wanted to talk.  We can go back to texting if you want.”  In your mind, you were yelling ‘please say no, please say no!’

“No, no.  I’m glad to hear your voice.  Didn’t think I would get to talk to you till tomorrow.  Though I guess it is tomorrow now.”  You were sure you could hear a smile in his voice and it made your cheeks flame.  Just as always talking with Chris was easy and was effortless.  The pair of you getting to know each other in a different way. He asked questions he had always wanted to know, like your favorite book and what was your go-to snack.  Then when you asked, he told you all about his favorite pet as a child and how his sisters used to torment him when they were younger.  It was close to three in the morning by the time either of you realized it.  Chris said he wanted you to sleep even though he could keep talking to you for the rest of the night.  Begrudgingly you said goodnight, falling asleep not long after.

Hours later, you were woken by an annoying buzzing sound.  The fog in your brain slowly dissipating as the noise stopped then sounded again just moments later.  It was then you realized it was your phone vibrating on the bedside table.  Not bothering to look to see who it was you answered with a sleepy, “hello?”

“I have been trying to call you for an hour. Have you been sleeping this whole time?”  It was Chris and he sounded way too awake for going to bed so late.

“Yes, some of us require more than four hours of beauty sleep to function.  Why have you been calling me for an hour?”  You had not pried your eyes open yet.

“Wow so I get to tell you this?  That’s amazing.”

“Spit it out Evans.” The level of your patience was dwindling quickly.  Chris laughed in your ear.

“[Y/N] you were nominated for best actress for Deep dark corner.  They announced it this morning.”  Your end of the line went very quiet.  This had to be a dream, how was it possible for one, that you did not know the nominations were today and two… how the hell were you nominated?  “[Y/N]?  You better not have fallen back asleep on me.”

“No, no I’m here. Holy shit.  Am I dreaming?  Fuck. I’m awake.  Oh my God, Chris!”  Sitting up quickly in bed you covered your mouth as you screamed your excitement. He laughed on the other end of the phone as he listened to you.  Hearing your joy made him grin and it just added to his own excitement for the surprise he was now planning.  As you were trying to calm down your phone vibrated again with another call.  This time from your manager.  “Chris can I call you back?  My manager is calling and I know he had got to be freaking out too.”

“Of course.  Call me back when you can, if not I will probably see you on set later.”  Saying your goodbyes, you switched over to the other line.  Mike, your manager, was beyond excited.  He, too, had been trying to call you for hours.  In the time you were on the phone with him seven more texts and three phone calls came in.  Every person you knew wanted to say congratulations and give their love.  After talking to Mike, you called your mom who kept you on the phone for thirty minutes.  Every time you tried to say you had to go she kept talking.  Finally you just took the phone with you to the bathroom so you could pee, because she was going on about how proud she was and how she knew that movie was going to put you on the map.

Towards the end of the phone call, she finally slowed down to ask, “Who are you taking as your date to this thing?”  That question stopped you in your tracks.  It was not something you had thought about yet.  She mentioned something about taking your father or Jake. Chris popped into your mind but it was probably too soon to ask him something like that.  It was a huge deal, and maybe he was not ready to define whatever was going on between you.  As soon as you got off the phone with your mother, your favorite designer called. He was lesser known in the design world but you had bonded over pretty dresses one visit to New York.  Since then you used him more for your dresses and outfits than anyone else.  He called to ask what you wanted to look like and how he was going to send an assistant out this week to measure you, so that he could get started with the designs.

It took hours for you to finally call and text everyone back.  You had gotten a long shower and brushed your hair out before heading to the set.  As you walked up to your trailer, another text came through.  Even though you had taken the name out of your contact list, you recognized the number.  David texted to say ‘Congrats beautiful. You deserve it.’  You stared at the message for a moment then decided to not respond. He was no longer important and did not need an answer.  Opening your trailer door the scent of flowers hit you.  Walking up the entire interior was covered with hundreds of different colored roses.    Every bouquet was multicolored except one.  One solid white bouquet sat at your makeup chair.  There was a card sticking out with your name on it.

If I could have filled your house with roses I would have. I’m so proud of you. Congratulations [Y/N].  

~ C

Chris remembered from one conversations months ago that your favorite flower was a white rose.  How did he pull this together so quickly?!  You teared up as you gazed around the room. No one had ever done anything for you like this before.  He made you feel more special in the short time you had known him, than any other man had in the entire span of the relationship.  Wiping your eyes, you pulled your phone from your pocket.  As you started to dial there was a knock at your trailer door.  You opened it to find Chris standing there with the biggest grin on his face.  Not wasting a breath, you launched yourself into his arms hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much.  I can’t believe you did that.  You are crazy.”  He laughed as he held you tight.

“I wanted to see you smile. But, this is better.  And yeah I know I am crazy, crazy about you.”  He did it again.  Your heart nearly exploded in your chest.  Pulling back to look at him you forgot what you were going to say. His blue eyes were staring down at you, causing everything inside you to do the opposite of what it was made to do. Chris’s smile disappeared as he started to look nervous with you looking up at him.  However, it was too late for you then, you wanted this.  Leaning up on your toes you pressed your lips softly to his. He was hesitant at first to return the kiss, but only for a second.  Soon his response matched your own as his hand held the back of your head lightly.  It was far better than the kisses you had on set. This was real.  This was not acting between you and it felt wonderful. Chris was the first to pull back, though it was reluctantly.    “That was… great.”

You nodded with a quiet giggle.  “It was better than great.  It was amazing.”  He still held you in his arms as he ran his thumb across your cheek.

“[Y/N] I want this with you. Just you and me.  I’m not seeing anyone else.  I don’t plan to.  You understand that?”  His sincerity blew you away.  He wanted to be just with you.  As much as it scared you, you needed that new start.  Just like your dad had said.  You wanted that new start with Chris.

“I think I understand. I guess that means you’re my boyfriend Christopher Evans.”  As much as you joked, you were just as serious as he was.  He laughed stealing another soft kiss.

“Damn right.”  

“So then you wouldn’t be upset if I asked you to escort me to the awards in a month?  I need a date and I’m pretty sure I want my boyfriend to enjoy that night with me.  Even when I don’t win.”  You could only hope now he would say yes.  That he would be willing to go public at that point with your relationship.

“[Y/N], I would do anything you wanted.  I would love to take you.  You sure you want the world to know about the dork you are dating?  And you are going to win.”  

“You sure you want the world to know the pain in the ass you are dating?”  Both of you smiled at the same time.

“Hell yes.  I’m proud of you, in case you didn’t get a chance to read the card.”  He kissed you again, this time it lingered far longer than the first one.  One of the set assistants finally had to break the two of you apart because you had to get ready for your scenes.  The poor woman had an awful blush at having to do so.  The rest of the day, you were walking on clouds.  Between your nomination and now having a defined status with Chris, you could not remember the last time you had been so happy.

Part 7

tags: @feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @mysteriouslyme81 @thegirlwithnodragontattoo @magellan-88  @thedoctorsnerdgirl  @waywardswain @tacohead13  @beckyboo1188  @pegasusdragontiger  @smoothdogsgirl  @kitty11223  @smoothdogsgirl  @castellandiangelo @jensenxnina  @our-chaoticwhispers @sf0206

Silver Spoon Pt.5

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Seokjin

Genre: Angst/ Romance

A/N: Enjoy :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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Title: Gifts

 Summary: Bilbo expected it to be any day like the others, but the dwarves had other plans.

 Warnings: Fluff!!! :D

 Masterlist of FanFiction

Originally posted by kaipurge

Today was a fairly standard day, Bilbo thought as he rose from his bed, wrapping his robe around himself before padding down to the kitchen.  No reason for any fuss, he added mentally, trying to decide if he wanted to risk going down to the market today for some fresh ingredients.  

It wasn’t that he was deliberately trying to avoid anyone in particular, except perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, he just didn’t want any fuss today.  It was just another day, and he didn’t want anyone to treat him any differently because of it.  

But he knew, deep down, that if he stepped foot out that door, every passerby, every neighbor would be there to greet him and to give their congratulations.  And why would they you ask?  Because today was Bilbo Baggins’ birthday, of course!

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Mentor for Hire [Spideypool Fic]

ssree said: Spideypool: Spidey seeking Deadpool out to ask/hire him to be his mentor: teach him to fight and survive in this new dangerous world he finds himself in now that he has super powers. Also, welcome back~

Thank you! For the welcome and the prompt… I hope you don’t mind if I change it up a bit (hey sweetpeas, send me prompts again, after three long months I’m gonna write fanfics again)

Peter stopped on his heels, rolling back as his eye caught on the bright red poster stapled haphazardly to the telephone pole next to him. 

“SUPERHERO MENTOR FOR HIRE! DEADPOOL’S THE NAME KILLING BADDIES IS THE GAME” followed in small print with: “it’s actually not a game, it’s a job and a good thing to do” with even smaller print below: “not actually a superhero or a mentor, any accidents or injuries in the field are not the fault of Deadpool please don’t sue me.”

He reached out and tore down the poster, shoving it into his bag before carrying on down the street to the library where he was going to meet Gwen to study for their first ever college midterms.

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After a recent post, i got tons of messages asking how i was able to score such high allowances while barely seeing these men.

Some general advice

Get a head start

I believe that you have to give your sugaring some time. If you are in a position where you need to make some quick cash, you are more likely to accept low offers. In order to get a great allowance, you have to be in a decent starting position. Don’t be desperate, assholes smell that shit from miles away. 

Dress well

Even if you don’t have a lot of money, try to dress well on first dates. Inexpensive companies like Zara provide everything you need: A pair of heels, a dress and a nice jacket. When in doubt, wear black. And don’t show too much skin. If you do own designer items, put them on! 

Have manners

You better know how to walk the walk and talk the talk. You know which forks to use and which vino to order. The internet is your friend.

Don’t show that you are impressed

This is important and a great way to manipulate rich men. Don’t show how impressed you are. He takes you to an amazing restaurant? Talk about “this other place” you had dinner at. Do your research before. He owns a private plane? Sentences like “Oh my god, I love sitting in the jump seat!!” show that you are excited about what he has, but not too surprised or impressed. Act like everything he has is according to your expectations, but not below or above them. There is a fine line between being easily impressed and putting a man down. Try to balance. 

I’m going to illustrate negotiation and manipulation skills using my current SDs as examples, but remember that every man is different and you gotta adjust the mind-games accordingly. 

SD 1: 5000 euro for a 2-day trip every month. Married. True business man. So with this man, it was easy. He was the one that brought up an allowance before even meeting me, asked me how much I wanted. I asked him to make an offer (I prefer that, if I make an offer myself I’m always worried he would have offered more otherwise). It was a quick phone call, he offered 3500 (in case we got along obviously). I told him I’d think about it, calculate what i needed and get back to him. Didn’t text him for about 2 days, then sent him a short message saying “I am going to need at least 5000 to take care of my needs”. Again, in order to have the ability to take risks and be so bold in negotiations, you can’t be in a desperate position. He texted me back and agreed within 10 minutes. 

SD 2: 8000 euro, 2 evenings a month, no intimacy so far. This is far more interesting than SD1 and the way most SDs work. In my experience, highly effective. And we all know, i love to play people. Especially men.

So, this type of man - yes, i can certainly generalise -is complex. He wants someone that likes him for him, not for his money. Something real. At the same time he knows exactly that the money is the reason we want to be with him. He doesn’t want us to show that though. This man is extremely generous, but doesn’t want to feel like he is paying for sex or companionship. He wants to spoil the girl of his dreams. To this man, you better don’t bring up an allowance until after the 2nd date.

So, how do we deal with this? We don’t want to fear him away, nor do we want to be tricked by salts. Salts hope/assume we won’t talk about money because we don’t want to seem like gold diggers. Real Sugar Daddies want us to be more than gold diggers (even if thats all we are). So, how do we know we aren’t wasting our time but have a true gentleman as a POT? 

1. Obviously, screen the shit out of him. What his profile says doesn’t mean anything, but does he give you his real name? Find out as much as possible and if he is able to afford you.

2. Let him choose the restaurant for the first date. If it’s an expensive place, extra point for him. When you are there, don’t you dare order the cheapest dish. You order one of the most expensive things, and when you are done eating, you keep ordering expensive drinks. Watch his body language during all of this. Does he cringe while you order the lobster?  No need to waste your time. Does he decide to order bottles that are 100 bucks? Good. Talk, laugh, smile and listen during all of this. Find out what he is interested in. Theatre, music, sports? Generous men will feel the need to give you a few hundred bucks after a good first date (bonus point). When that happens, you smile and say “I have a hard time accepting this, I had so much fun with you”. Refuse twice. He will give it to you anyways. And think very highly of you. No kiss at the end of it.

3. Text him the next morning. Say how much fun you had, and that you would love to see him again. On date 1 you found out what he is into (sports, theatre, whatever). Do your research online and tell him about an event he could be interested in. Suggest it as a spot for your second date. He is going to love the fact you listened and are interested in his hobbies. The seats he gets are another great indicator for his generosity.

4. During date 2, get over any mediocrity you might have in yourself. Brush up on your general knowledge, talk about current events. Impress him, know more than him. Talk about your dreams. And dream big. Wanting your own company and the ability to provide for yourself will make this man more generous than your dreams of designer clothing. If the date goes well, you can let him kiss you. Maybe.

5. After the second date, its time to talk about allowance. Emphasise your dreams again, and see what offer he makes. If it’s too low, move on. Again, sugaring takes time. But this technique has been proven to be rather bulletproof and scored me whatever I wanted.

Trying - Chapter 7

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Alya/Nino


After 5 years of a never ending battle with Hawk Moth, the Akumas suddenly come to a stop. For 4 months Paris seems like it’s finally at peace, but it may turn out to be only the calm before the storm. When Alya starts to hear a familiar voice, she realizes very quickly that Hawk Moth is far from gone. Alya must resist the temptation to discover the truth behind Ladybug, but as her life slowly falls apart around her Hawk Moth’s grip only becomes stronger.

AO3            Fanfiction.net

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