i might pick up the trade



★your first kiss with seokjin would be playful

★the two of you would be playing around with recipes on his free day  

★he’d be working on some sweets

★while you worked on sauce for your noodles

★you tested it for seasoning then turned to get his opinion

★’do you think this needs more pepper?’

★he pushed the spoon to the side to connect his lips to yours

★he’d hum when he pulled back and nodded

★’tastes incredible’ 

★when you blushed he’ll laugh and pull you into a hug  


★shy af 

★the two of you would be chilling post-concert 

★he’d have his head laid in your lap   

★with your fingers in his hair 

★’you should sleep’

★’i don’t want to move’

★’you can sleep there’

★your words would make him chuckle

★’thank you for caring for me’

★he’d reach his hand up to pull you down halfway 

★while he leaned up

★and pressed his lips to yours  


★you seen those kisses where the couple have to pull back to smile?

★that’s what it would be 

★it’d be so loving  

★and leave you both with rosy cheeks

★he’d come over to your home for a date after being away for months

★the moment you open the door to him he’ll squeal and wrap his arms around you

★he’d press kisses all over your head

★’you’re missing a spot’

★the moment you pucker up your lips

★he cups your face

★and kisses you 


★namjoon’s hand rubbed against your shoulder while the other fiddled around on the computer 

★’i can’t get it right. it’s missing something’ 

★’how about you sleep? it might be easier to think when you’re rested’

★’i want it done’ 

★he’d continue to whine

★until you pulled him closer 

★and kissed him

★he’d smile into your lips 

★and hold you as close to his body as possible


★this bean would be up to his dumb antics again

★he’d be sat on your stomach

★hands threatening to tickle your sides

★’why didn’t you get my photocard?!’

★’i can’t pick what photocard comes!’

★’you could trade it!’

★when you pouted and gave up trying to push you off of you

★he leans down to press his lips to yours

★’i’m sorry. i couldn’t hold it in’ 

★his lil cheeks would turn red

★’the only thing you have to be sorry for is for moving away’ 


★the first kiss with taehyung would be so soft 

★you’d be sat in the park after a date 

★just watching the sights 

★with your fingers locked together 

★you spotted a couple a few benches away kissing

★he noticed you staring

★and tilted your chin up to connect your lips

★his lips would barely touch yours 

★not until you gave a sound of approval

★then he’d wrap his arms around you and deepen it

★’you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that’ 


★it’d be the first night staying over in the dorms

★you’d be nervous about it 

★he’d cuddle up to you in bed

★and play with your hair

★’nothing to be worried about. they like having you here’

★’what if i snore? or if i move alot? or steal the blankets’ 

★he’d kiss you to silence you

★it’d only be a light peck

★but when he sees you smile he’ll cup your cheek and kiss you properly

★when he pulls away he’ll giggle and hide his face in your neck

specsthespectraldragon  asked:

"games like classic Traveller, in which it’s actually possible to die during character creation!" tell me more

(With reference to this post here.)

Sure thing. In a nutshell, after rolling up your attributes (everything in Traveller is randomly generated), your character starts out as an 18-year-old with no skills or resources to speak of, and you have to pick a career path. Early versions of the game assumed that all player characters would be military veterans, so various types of military service were the only options available, while later iterations add post-secondary education, civilian career paths, and even being a “wanderer” (read: space pirate).

Your character’s life is then divided into four-year terms, and you play each term out as a simple minigame to determine what you learned, what you experienced - and yes, whether you survived. As you can imagine, there are lots of random tables. In the earliest versions of the game, blowing your survival roll simply means that your character is dead, so there’s a tension between staying in longer in order to gain more skills, and the risk of blowing a roll and having to start over. Later versions of the game offer a variety of potential consequences for failing a survival roll, including scandal, imprisonment, or simply being horribly maimed.

Here - I’ll walk us through a basic example right now. For reference, I’m using the second Mongoose Publishing edition of the game (there are several) - you can find a bit of prior discussion on that subject here.

Keep reading

Down With The Flu

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 3,460

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, the flu, things associated with the flu, sam being a total sweetheart, fluff

Prompt: When the reader comes down with the flu, Sam’s right by her side, nursing her back to health even if it means seeing some of the worst sides of the girl he’s been falling for. 

A/N: I finally decided to finish this fic and post it. I wrote this back on New Years when I got sick, so everything in this is what I experienced then. This is also slightly dedicated to @impala-dreamer as she is down with the flu right now. Get well soon Beka and enjoy some Sammy taking care of you. (:

This is is. This is how you were going to die: tossing and turning in bed with what felt like a balloon swelling in your stomach. You were going to die, alone, at three a.m and nobody would discover you until probably late afternoon. You’d be rotting for probably 12 hours before someone found you. You were sure of it.

Between the constant tossing and turning and general uncomfortableness you had managed to doze off for another couple of hours. “Surely,” you thought the second you woke up and everything felt okay, “I’m dead.” And then the upset stomach returned.

Keep reading

Voodoo Doll (Bonus)

A/N: Hey guys so from now on if I feel like I want to write more for something but there’s already a lot I’ll make a “Bonus” add-on. It’ll be head cannons, little scribbles and dribbles etc. If you want to request more for something that doesn’t already have this feature, go ahead! 

[ Original Imagine ]

Y/N = your name

Y/N/N = your nick name

“So you’re the Red Hood everyone talks about on campus?”

“Yeah, scary anti-hero, crime lord, assassin.” Jason chuckled as he picked up your dropped groceries and traded you for the helmet. 

“I don’t think you’re that scary.” You honestly responded with a toothy smile and Jason’s mouth parted. 

“Y-You don’t?” The man in front of you stuttered out in disbelief. “But I’ve killed people.” Yup, Jason Todd just lost all his sense of the cocky and snarky remarks. 

With a shake of your head you shrugged, “We all have our sins.” Although that might not have made much sense, Jason held gratitude in his eyes for you. Someone who accepted him right off the bat of knowing he has done terrible things before but nonetheless still adored him. “Come on, we can talk over cookies and milk.” You waved him over as you started walking back to your apartment. 

Without the slightest bit of hesitancy, Jason slipped his mask and hood back on and followed you home. It was dark out but people were still awake and he couldn’t risk losing his cover even if he was now officially off duty for the remainder of the night. 


“Excuse the mess, I’m still unpacking.” You announced as the two of you walked into your flat. “Make your self at home, I’ll get us some plates and cups.”

Looking around your small studio, Jason already felt at home. You had a small bookshelf tucked next to your small sofa and from the overflowing amount on it (and the floor) he knew you guys were going to get on just fine (even if they were just textbooks from school and cook books for teens). Although you deemed your apartment a “mess”, Jason thought otherwise. Your boxes were neatly stacked and labeled. Your bed was made and although the growing laundry pile stood out, it made your studio feel all the more, homey. 

“Jason?” You asked as you snapped him out of his thoughts. You were already situated at your small coffee table with a plate of cookies laid out and two cups of milk to match. 

“Sorry, I was admiring your place.” Jason couldn’t even lie to her, it was as there was a spell cast on him. “So you like reading?”

And that was the start of it all. For the rest of the early morning on a Saturday, the two of you bonded over small chit chat of hobbies, work and school and long storytelling of each other’s lives. Sleep was the last thing on both of your minds considering all the fascinating things you were learning about each other. You had forgotten all about voodoo dolls and soulmates to the point as if the two of you hadn’t just met mere hours ago and shared a slightly intimate moment in the middle of the street after helping a lady against two scumbags. 

The two of you rambled on for hours on end, stopping only to take a bathroom break or to grab more snacks. You told him about your childhood and he told you about his. He told you why he became Red Hood after dying as Robin and yet again, the feeling of familiarity hit you.

“Did you ever own a red hoodie by any chance?” You asked out of the blue. Talking about your childhood made you think back to your first voodoo doll, the one with the red hoodie and grey pants. 

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed together, taken back by your oddly specific question. “Yeah, I had this bright red one that I wore for years. I wore it the most when I was still a teenager on the streets. In fact, it was the hoodie I wore when I tried to steal Batman’s tires.”

You could sit and watch Jason talk all day, but with a swift jump off the couch, you ran for the box underneath your bed. Jason watched you attentively, following your every move and even straightened up in his seat when you sat down next to him. Opening up the box, you pulled out Jason’s doll and handed it over to him.

Holding it gently in his hands, he examined it closely before pinching the doll’s head and wincing when he felt a sharp pain in his skull. As the pain subsided, he chuckled earnestly. “So you were the one giving me headaches and random scratch marks back then.”

You nodded while he laughed out loud, playing around with his doll. You really didn’t think you should be telling him but you didn’t want to hide it from him either so with a straight face, you whispered, “You’re my second voodoo doll.” A look of hurt crossed his face as he felt his heart clench and before any thoughts could process in his mind, you took his hand in yours. “That pain you felt, that was me taking out my anger on your doll because I resented you.”

He was quick to snap his attention back to you. A barely audible, “What?” escaped his lips as he looked at doll in his hand and then back at you. He was confused because he had his voodoo doll ever since his street kid days but you couldn’t say the same. You pulled out your first voodoo doll. The voodoo doll with beige skin, black hair and a small body adorned in a red hoodie and grey pants. 

“This was my first doll, and not long after I got him on my fifteenth birthday, I got the second one. My parents told me the only reason that would be is because-”

“Because your first one died.” Jason finished your sentence and you nodded. The two of you shared a knowing look that said you both understood what the correlation between the two dolls were but he still urged you to continue. 

You took in a shaky breath as you recollected yourself. “I was confused but I also mad because you two looked alike and I hated knowing my lover was buried six feet in the ground not knowing I searched every nook and cranny in my hometown for them and not even getting a chance to meet. I hated that I had grown so attached to this… this doll that was supposed to be my clue to finding my forever and always yet I never did. Not with him anyways. I didn’t like that you were his replacement and so I took out all my anger on your doll and when I finally got over the loss, I took both dolls and stashed them away because I had a life to live. I didn’t have time to mourn over this stranger and take out my anger on a little doll.” 

Jason nodded understandingly as he continued toying with the small figure of his past self in his other hand, “So you moved on.” 

“And so I moved on.” You repeated and gave his slightly rough hand a squeeze, “But then I came to Gotham for school, and then I met you. It was only a mere three minutes ago did I realize that I never actually lost my soulmate.”

“Because it was me the whole time?” Jason asked with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. You nodded frantically with a smile. “But we weren’t remotely close back then.”

“I was supposed to visit my aunt here in Gotham a month or two after my birthday but because I got the doll, I thought it meant my soulmate was back home so I stayed.” 

“I was a mess back then- Not that I’m not now, but-”

“But I would have still loved you the same.” You quickly reassured Jason as you moved closer to him. Your hands came up to cup the sides of his face as you peered into his eyes with your own glossy one. 

Jason’s eyes widened as he noticed your teary eyes, “W-Why are you crying? Are you not happy it’s me?” His hands mirrored your movements to cup your face as tears fell and you laughed through them. 

“I just feel really bad now because I hurt you physically through the doll because I thought you were replacing him but it turns out you weren’t and I can’t imagine what the scars look like and how many bottles of Advil you went through.” You blubbered as Jason tried to wipe your tears. He quickly pulled you into his chest, enveloping you into a tight but soothing hug. 

“Don’t fret over that, (Y/N), I only used like… two bottles of Advil and plus, these scars make me look super bad-ass.” Jason spoke as calmly as he could but his response just made it worse. You cried even harder, guilt settling heavily in your chest as he squeezed you even harder. “Please don’t cry, I feel terrible you’re crying over me.”

“AND I FEEL- TER-RIBLE FOR HURTING YOU.” You wailed and Jason laughed as a tear slipped his eye. 

Great, now both of you were crying at six thirty in the morning. 

  • After that night, Jason would come over to help you study and the two of you would cook dinner before he went for patrol.
  • Not long after that, you insisted he move in with you so he wasn’t so alone in his safe house because even though he denies it he really just wanted to cuddle you in his sleep
  • When you finally got to meet Bruce, he told you Jason carried your doll everywhere with him because it was his “lucky charm” and it “kept him safe and hopeful” 
  • But Jason denies that too (even though Alfred sided with Bruce) because he has a strong, angsty, brooding act to keep up
  • But the moment Bruce and Alfred leave the room he’s solemn and when you ask what’s wrong he chuckled and scuffed the toe of his socks on the carpet mumbling “It’s true”
  • “What?”
  • “It’s true you were my good luck charm because whenever a mission went south, I would get hurt, but the one night I forgot the doll in the cave, I died.” 
  • Jay bean, why are you so dark.
  • He wanted the old him to be called Jason but the new one to be called J.T because “I HIT PUBERTY AND THIS ONE IS SO MUCH MORE DESERVING OF A COOL NAME, BABE!”
  • Your doll got “Butt Kicker (Y/N/N)” for reasons concerning your skilled tactical K.O. on a man with just a grocery bag
  • Later that night when he’s on patrol, you’ll start tickling your doll and poking its cheek or even swinging his foot back and forth. 
  • Jason is here stumbling on the rooftop trying to stay hidden from the thugs robbing the jewellery store down below and wriggling on the floor like a fish out of water. 
  • Ofc he gets his revenge because oh yeah, you forgot he took your doll whenever he went out
  • If the thugs get away, he’ll call you to tell you to cut it out and while he’s fighting thugs in an alley, you’re scolding him for starting it in public and he goes 
  • “Yeah, okay. Babe, I AM REAAAAAAAALLY SORRY ABOUT THAT, but i’m also in the middle of- hng- fighting some criminals right now.” 
  • The two of you kept your three dolls on the book shelf together and usually your’s disappears at night (because he brings it with him on patrol) but one time they went missing and you searched the whole studio for it but it turns he had them with him when he went up on the roof for a smoke. 
  • “I don’t know what you’re talking about, they were in the kitchen.”
  • “I checked there already, Jay.”
  • “Clearly you didn’t do a good job.” Jason shrugs as he puts all three dolls back on the shelf. 
  • There was that other incident where you came home early from your group study and you saw him holding J.T and Butt Kicker (Y/N/N) side by side and just staring at them with love. 
  • “How did I end up with someone this adorable and beautiful like (Y/N)? I mean she literally kicked ass the first time we met.” 
  • “Because we were clearly so destined for each other they made sure I knew with a second doll.” You responded and that was the first time you heard Jason scream.
  • “I-I thought you weren’t coming home till later? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up? How was-”
  • “Stop trying to hide the dolls, I can see you.”
  • “I’m not hiding them, what?????”
  • “Were you playing house with them?”
  • “Mhm.”


Tagging: @a-fallen-little-pine-cone @cupoftim

anonymous asked:

can we get more of that deaged Obi that will have eventual obikin? the one where Obi is 19/20? we havnt seen mmore of that in a while. how does Obi's meeting with yicky old Palp go?

He doesn’t feel right.

That’s the first thing that strikes Obi-Wan as he accepts the cup of tea that Amedda gives him, the chagrian giving him an obvious curious look as if he’s never seen Obi-Wan and perhaps that is the truth.

The chagrian may have served Valorum but Obi-Wan does not remember having meet with the vice chair of the man.

Or perhaps its the young face that catches the other of guard.

Mas Amedda however is not who feels wrong.

Its Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor.

The problem is that Obi-Wan can’t put his finger on it, like there are pieces missing that his mind can’t put together. Like there’s a fog around the man that Obi-Wan’s eyes can’t penetrate even when he’s looking straight at him.

It makes the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“Ah so you are speaking to them about peace.” The Chancellor stirred sugar into his tea and Obi-Wan nodded, taking comfort in Anakin beside him as he took a small sip of the tea.

And abruptly freezing.

‘Poison…’ His mind supplied him, bringing the Force instantly to bear to filter it through his system so it wouldn’t harm him. Anakin shifted beside him, obviously catching onto Obi-Wan using the Force but except for a worried glance, the blond didn’t say anything.

Obi-Wan was grateful even as he took another minor sip under the pale eyes of the Chancellor, still filtering his systems.

The poison is still effecting him, his mind feels fuzzy and he knows his mouth is saying more then he should but he’s trying to limit what he tells the Chancellor, especially in regards to WHO he’s been meeting with.

He won’t put the Senator’s who’s supporting him in danger.

So he speaks about the Kamino Senator and delegation instead, focusing on that point, about how they seem to want to prolong the war. A tactic his master once taught him if he was injected with a truth serum and couldn’t purge it or if he had a head injury and couldn’t control his lips and mind.

Focus on the most harmless of the information and give it to the person he’s talking to.

His feet can hardly carry him by the time the Chancellor dismisses them, something akin to frustration in the mans eyes even as both Anakin and Obi-Wan bows to him and leave.

But once outside the room, Obi-Wan latched onto the blond knights arm tightly, green eyes focusing up on the other as he struggled to keep aware. “Temple…Healers. Now.” He whispered, watching blue eyes widen before nodding, hearing the urgency in Obi-Wan’s voice as he let the other Jedi support himself on his arm.

“Obi-Wan, wha-”

“Not here.” Obi-Wan rasped out as they closed in on the speeder, feeling numbness entering his legs. “Healers PLEASE.” He begged.


“What do you mean you were poisoned?”

Anakin’s hand was seconds from crushing the medical bed rail as he stared at Obi-Wan along with Master Windu and Yoda, the two council members as shocked as Anakin feels.

Obi-Wan looked at them with a long suffering look. “That my tea at the Chancellor’s office was laced and the blood work the healers took confirms it. I know when I’m being poisoned and I know how to filter it. That’s why I’m still alive, I can filter it through quickly and efficiently.”

The three other traded looks before Mace picked up the pad to see the healers analyze of Obi-Wan’s blood.

Anakin however was still focused on Obi-Wan. “But Palpatine is a friend of mine…” He whispered. “A good friend, he wouldn’t…he knows you’re my master. He couldn’t have…”

But the blood work is irrefutable evidence to the contrary because while Mas Amedda might have served the tea, Palpatine had been the one to make it right in front of them.

And Anakin had drunk from the same pot.

No wait, Mas Amedda had given Obi-Wan the cup but Mas Amedda worked for Sheev so…

Force this was all wrong.

Giving the blond an apologetic look, Obi-Wan focused on Windu when the man let out a breath. “Well?”

“Well you should be dead.” The Korun growled. “This poison shouldn’t…its suppose to be undetectable and slow working.”

“I’m a Stewjoni.” Obi-Wan’s tone of voice almost sounded insulted. “Our bodies are hardened against poisons. And my training as a Jedi allows me to filter it much quicker which is why I got so sick. I filtered smaller amounts through my liver quicker then normal which caused me to get sick and show symptoms but would save my life.” He huffed a bit. “I’m more interested in the fact that the Supreme Chancellor tried to kill me when I’m working on a peace negotiation with several Senators who are amendable to it and have been reaching out to the Separatists on their own.”

Ears rising, Yoda gave a low hum from his platform. “Disturbing this is indeed. Wish to keep us in war it seems he does…questions arises from this conclusion.”

Anakin swallowed heavily but couldn’t dispute the claim, not with Obi-Wan laying pale in the medical bed and his blood work showing clear signs of poisoning.

“A discreet investigation the Order will take on. Disturbing this is. Rest you now need.” Yoda nodded to Obi-Wan who sighed and nodded back, settling back in the pillows with a pale expression.

Mace nodded too and moved out with Yoda, leaving Anakin in the room.

Unable to resist anymore, Anakin took the others hand and held it tightly in his, staring at him as he purposely ignored the fact that his FRIEND had poisoned Obi-Wan.

The Tree of Life - Take Out The Gunman (Part 8)

Chapter Summary: While Metatron has you, you learn some truth about Castiel, the Winchesters, and yourself.
A/N: Any and all feedback is GREATLY appreciated!!! <3
Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Warnings: language, angst, Metatron being…Metatron, panic inducing situation
Word Count: 2,395

Music to set the mood: Take Out The Gunman - Chevelle


Originally posted by anangelandademoninthebackseat

Was he kidding? Manners? You were tied to a chair and he was going on to you about god damned manners?!

“My name’s Metatron,” he motioned his arms around the room, perhaps suggesting you take a look around, but you kept your eyes trained on him, “welcome to my office.”


Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you studied this man who called himself Metatron closely, “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want?” he repeated your question, “What I want, is Castiel.”

Your brows furrowed, and your heart rate sped up from the thought that this could be some sort of mistake, “I don’t know a Castiel.”

Now, Metatron looked confused. Did he think you were lying? You weren’t. You didn’t know anyone by the name Castiel.

Keep reading

Crash and Burn 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, blacked out drunk, getting married in Vegas, smoking, angst, fluff, draaaaaaama!!

After a long weekend in Vegas, you wake up next to Steve Rogers with a five carat ring on your hand. A blacked out wedding in Vegas, made you Mrs. Rogers and neither of you remember a thing. The two of you agree to keep it a secret to have it taken care of when you get back to the city, but will Steve stick to the plan?? When the team starts to pick up on things going on with the two of you, they’ve got a lot of questions themselves, and you don’t have the answers to explain. Divorce lawyers, witnesses, plus signs, marriage licenses, and lies…. Will things work out or will you say the wrong thing and kick yourself later?

Keep reading

princesscipherite  asked:

Hallo!! I love your stuff and, since your ask box was open, I thought I'd finally get over my own nerves and send something in! So... how would the US skelebros and the UF skelebros react to their S/O actually being kidnapped? I though it might be a good angsty-fluff combo :3 Thanks in adavance! I really do love your work :D

Hello ( ´ ∀ ` )ノ I’m glad you enjoy my content! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to yours. and to everyone else’s I haven’t got to yet (>_<)

Trigger Warning: violence, mentions of sex trade, torture

Disclaimer: s/o comes out unharmed in all scenarios



Berry is worried sick. He found out in one of the worse ways possible. He had just come home from training with Scales(Us Alphys). He had even picked up a bouquet of your favorite flowers. No special occasion. He just saw a flower shop on his way home and decided to get some for you. When he went to stick his key in the door of your shared apartment the door was ajar. His soul dropped instantly but he tried to remain optimistic, hoping you had only left it like that by accident. But that’s not like you at all. Maybe you heard him coming and left it like that on purpose? His fears are confirmed when he steps inside and finds things knocked over, clearly showing a struggle. He lies the flowers down on the table and calls the police immediately. They take his statement and any evidence and leave. Once Berry is left alone he’s in shock and disbelief. Who did this? Why? Why you? You didn’t even have any enemies and neither did he. Not that he knows of at least. The police check in with him in a few days but haven’t had any luck. Berry has been tending the bouquet of flowers, hoping you’ll be found before they die and trying to keep his own hope alive. It doesn’t take long before his patience snaps. He’s trying to let the police do their job and not interfere but he doesn’t feel like they’re trying very hard. He’s mad at himself for not starting his own investigation sooner. As soon as Scales finds out she, Angelfish(Us Undyne), and Stretch all become a part of his team. Berry loves you and if he loves you that means these three see you like family, even if you and Berry aren’t married yet. Scales goes on the aggressive and starts interrogating any suspicious characters. Berry goes with her and they pretty much play good cop bad cop. Angelfish and Stretch provide tech support. Angel gives wires to Scales and Berry so they can record their interrogations. The rest of her and Stretch’s time is spent hacking into security cameras around town until they finally find something. They can’t make out faces because it was night in this particular tape but she KNOWS the person being thrown into the back of a car is you. The recording happened near your apartment complex and she can see an item/piece of clothes that she recognizes. She calls Berry immediately and gets a license plate number. She suggests telling the police about it but he refuses. He doesn’t want to rely on them anymore and reminds her that they could find out about her hacking. She could get in trouble whether her soul was in the right place or not. Stretch teleports Berry and Scales as close to the location as possible. The two can hardly contain themselves as they sneak in and they both feel sick to their stomachs when they realize that the place trades sex slaves. Berry immediately loses any control he had and pins the nearest guards to the wall with blue bones and demands to know which room you’re being kept in. He and Scales leave them hanging, not caring if they bleed out. When he finds you he’s clinging to you and practically sobbing with relief, especially when you assure him no one had touched you yet. They make an anonymous call to the police about the sex slave ring and after the whole incident is over Berry moves you and himself to a safer place and starts putting traps up around the house and calling in at random to check on you while he’s gone. Expect a trip to an adoption shelter on your next Birthday.


He was on a date with you when it happened. You were walking hand in skeletal hand when someone leapt out and snatched you away from him. He tried to go after them but someone else knocked him out with a blunt object to the back of his skull. It wasn’t a very populated area but there were a couple of nearby witnesses that called 911 and gave what information they could while medics made sure Stretch was okay. He was admitted to the hospital for the night and Berry came to make sure he was okay. But that night, as much as Stretch likes to nap, he couldn’t sleep. Not a wink. Not while he knows you’re in danger. Who were those people? Why did they do this? Was this some sort of punishment? As soon as he was let out the next day he wasted no time. He didn’t check in with the police. Screw relying on them. He goes straight to Angelfish and asks her to check the security cameras in the vicinity of where it happened. The two of them sit down together and he refuses to eat until they’ve got something. It happens faster than he expected before they’ve got pictures and tape of you being dragged away. Angel enhances the pictures as best as she can and he recognizes one of the offenders as your jealous ex and he knows where they live. Before Angel has a chance to stop him he’s gone. He pops up right behind your ex in their house and scares the living hell out of them right before they’re pinned to the wall with bones. Stretch’s hood is up and the shade it provides along with his blazing orange eye light gives him a menacing aura. He forces what information he wants out of them and leaves them with a bone chilling threat that he won’t be so lenient if they ever mess with you again. He knocks them out and leaves them as he goes and rescues you from their basement. The Sick Psycho. He takes you home, puts on some of your favorite shows/movies, and doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, comforting you any way he can. From now on he keeps his guard up almost to a level that makes him seem like he’s from a Fell universe.



He knew something like this might happen eventually. He just doesn’t know how they managed to get past his defenses so easily. A lot of monsters and humans don’t like him but most of them are too dumb. He either pissed off the wrong person, they had help, or it was pure dumb luck. He found out when he got a taunting phone call asking for a ransom. He could hear you sassing one of your captors in the background and calling his name when you realized they had him on the phone. The smart ones always want some sort of revenge over money so he’s pretty sure it was dumb luck by now. He’s also kind of relieved. It’s still bad that you’ve been kidnapped but he’s glad you’re not a target for revenge. Because that means you’ll come out of the ordeal mostly unscathed. However, the ransom they demanded before hanging up on him isn’t something he can afford and he’s too impatient to waste time collecting it, so he goes to Blaze(Uf Grillby). Now Blaze normally charges a pretty hefty price for his aid but Red is a patron and close friend, so he already gets a discount to begin with and when he tells Blaze that you’ve been snatched he cuts the price in half. Blaze gives him a suitcase filled with convincing fake bills. An person/monster with average intelligence will take about 1-2 minutes to figure it out but these dumb sounding bastards will probably take 5+ minutes or never realize it at all. Either way Red hands it over and you’re shoved into his arms as the two jackasses that snatched you excitedly play with the fake money. Red just stands back, with you behind him, watching them. It’s pretty amusing and he’s trying to contain his laughter. He almost feels bad for them. Almost. He’s so amused by their moronic behavior that he teleports you home and comes back. By now they’ve discovered that the money is fake and as soon as they notice him he’s greeted with anger. He dodges them easily while taunting them with his guffaws and when he’s had his fill of fun he goes back to being serious. And with you safe at home he can finally show some of his pent up anger. How dare these pieces of shit touch you. He doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of having such great s/o as you sometimes. You’re such an awesome person and these two twits definitely aren’t even worthy enough to even breathe the same air as you. Before the two know it they’ve been impaled and suspended by their limbs with bone attacks. Red cusses them out and tortures them by stabbing non vital parts of their bodies and twisting the bones until they’re begging for forgiveness or death. When he’s finally satisfied he lets them down and leaves, not caring if they bleed out or not (bit of a yandere streak there, Red). He hopes you won’t mind the little bit of blood splatter. Because as soon as he gets inside the house he’s throwing his coat off and smothering you with love.


Oh boy. Oooooooh BOY. Somebody done fucked up. Somebody is also a top tier moron. Edge came home from training with Stingray(Uf Undyne) and found his little shared home with you looking like a hurricane had passed through. At first he’s mildly irritated, thinking maybe you had just been fooling around or that his brother had done it. He’s pisssssed when he finds a very obviously placed ransom note. They attempted to make it anonymous but he knows who the dumbasses are. The Underfell dog guard. Even though everyone is on the surface now they’ve always held a grudge against him because they wanted higher positions in the guard before it was disbanded. They were jealous of him and never got along with him. How DARE those WORTHLESS mutts touch THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS’ datemate!? He doesn’t even finish reading the note before shredding it to pieces and storming out of the house. If they think they can get away with this they are VERY wrong. He’s not gonna bring what they want no matter what it was and he knows all their most frequented locations. He goes into stealth mode until he’s found you. He’s seething when he reveals himself and they’re surprised at his arrival because they hadn’t told him where they were yet. They were expecting him to call the number they’d left on the note so they could use a voice changer to talk to him. He wastes no time in subduing them, leaving all of them with 1 hp and teetering on the line between life and death. They were stupid to mess with him and he doesn’t care if they dust or not. He takes you and leaves. Once he gets you home he completely ignores the mess that’s waiting for him(he swears they left it this messy on purpose because everyone knows how he hates messiness) and carries you straight to bed, flopping down on it with you and nuzzling his skull against your neck. He won’t admit it but he was the tiniest bit scared and he really missed you in the short amount of time that you were gone. Even if he knew it was only the dog guard being dumb with him he couldn’t stand being apart from you. What? Crying? He’s not crying! How dare you suggest such a thing. Those totally aren’t tears. But he also doesn’t have a valid excuse for what they might actually be besides tears. Expect lots of cuddles and breakfast in bed the next morning. Somehow he already has the entire house clean by the time you wake up too, whether you had planned on helping him or not. He didn’t want you to have to help him anyways. He wants you to rest.

anonymous asked:

Why do you consistently want Belle to hit BF on the head with Her Handsome Hero?

It’s just a happy mental image for me, especially if Belle does it in the middle of the Black Fairy’s inevitable evil monologue. Double bonus points if Belle has to stand on a little step stool to do it.

Also, they keep showing the book as a symbol of Belle’s Maternal Love and also the Desire To Be a Hero so the book should be used in some way again. Preferably weaponized, as Belle is non-magical and anti-murder so: “CLOSE UP ON: SUB-MACHINE GUN. Belle PICKS IT UP and …” is not going to be one of the Sneak Peaks from an upcoming episode.

Tumblr disclaimer: I don’t actually condone whacking people with books; you might hurt the books.

A Dropped Call

Part of my Special Relationship AU (AO3)

April 29th – 8:15 pm EDT

The beginning riff of The Clash’s “London Calling” echoed through the room, and everyone froze mid-sentence. Steve, hands tangled in a half-tied bowtie, jumped away from the cell phone vibrating against his desk. He swore under his breath and gestured frantically at the still-ringing phone. The members of the National Security Council all shifted away, some more obviously than others, until White House Chief of Staff James Barnes was the closest to the desk.

He glared at Steve, who tried to shrug apologetically, but instead managed to cut off his air supply. He gasped and frantically tried to dislodge the small piece of fabric from around his neck.

Bucky rolled his eyes and snatched the phone off the desk. “President Rogers’ phone, this is his Chief of Staff speaking.”

Steve grimaced and, still coughing, yanked on the silk tie until it ripped, the pieces drifting to the floor. He took a deep, relieved breath, and motioned the rest of the NSC out of the Oval Office.

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered as Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, phone held slightly away from his ear. “We’ll pick this up after the dinner. This call is just the first of many we’ll have to deal with over the coming days. I’d like a report on the source of the leak—this Miles Lydon kid—on my desk by 7:00 tomorrow morning, as well as a full analysis of media coverage and of the national security implications. See you all tomorrow.”

Once the room was clear, Steve squared his shoulders and reached for the phone. Bucky nodded and said, “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but Steve’s now available to talk to you.”

“Oh, now he’s ready to talk to me,” the woman on the other line shouted, and both men winced.

“Here he is.” Bucky shoved the phone into Steve’s hand hurriedly, uninterested in continuing to hear the lecture clearly meant for Steve.

“Hey Peggy.”


Peggy was furious. She had been rudely woken early in the morning when the story broke, and her dark mood had only increased every hour, as she sat through meetings and strategy sessions full of equally angry and sleep-deprived politicians and staffers.

“How dare you,” she hissed into her phone, heels clicking as she paced around her now empty office.

His sigh rattled over the line, followed by the quiet click of a closing door and the shuffle of footsteps. “Listen, Peggy—”

“Spying on your own citizens? Your colleagues and friends? I can’t believe you would do something so stupid!”

“Now wait a minute—” Steve growled, an engine revving in the background.

“What were you thinking? How reckless and irresponsible and hypocritical—”

“Oh, please.” She couldn’t see him, but she could hear Steve rolling his eyes an ocean away. “First of all, don’t act like you’re surprised. We’re doing the exact same thing every other country in the world is doing, including you. Don’t get all high and mighty with me—we just happened to have our programs leaked to the press by a contractor. I inherited the program from my predecessor, as you well know, and no, it wasn’t perfect, but you would have done the exact same thing in my situation. And last time I checked, I’m the President of the United States, and I run my country as I see fit. I don’t report to you, thank you very much.”

Peggy picked up a pen from her desk and threw it at the wall. In her mind, the pen hit him between the eyes. “And monitoring my phone calls and personal correspondence? How do you justify that, Mister President?”

Fabric rustled against leather seats. “I didn’t—it was never—”

She scoffed. “Spare me your sad attempts at bullshit, Rogers. If you stop trying to spin this for a second, you’ll realize why I’d be so upset. Beyond the obvious breach of trust and invasive surveillance.”

The line was silent.

You call me on this phone, Steve. This—this could ruin everything. I could lose my job, my credibility, any shred of respect people have for me around the world. Do you have any idea—I am the second woman to be Prime Minister. Ever.  I could ruin the careers of all future female politicians with this scandal. You know I didn’t want to tell anyone, but now it could come out anyway. Because of a program you refused to dismantle!”

“Everything was classified—”

“Well, fat lot of good that does us, hmm? The existence of the surveillance programs was classified too, right?”

“They don’t record the calls.”

Peggy pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the pressure growing behind her eyes. She didn’t need a stress migraine on top of the current crisis. “But they do keep a record of the phone numbers and the duration of the conversations. How would it look if I spent two hours on the phone with a Washington, DC, number—one that belongs to the President—almost every night?”

On the other end of the call, she could hear the click of a door latch and the excited cheers of a crowd. There was a soft rustle of fabric—presumably Steve exiting the limo—and he sighed. “What do you want me to say, Peggy? What’s done is done, I can’t—”

There was a loud pop, almost like a car backfiring. Peggy heard Steve gasp, take a choking breath, and then there was a deafening crunch.

Peggy held her breath, trying to hear something, anything, on the other end, but it was silent.

“Steve?” Peggy heard her voice break, but she couldn’t stop. “Steve? Steve!”   

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Anonymous request for unspecified Kraglin content.  

“Hey Kraglin, you alright?”

He freezes.  The first mate feels the sting of the slap placed on his back by one of his crew mates.   Quickly he shut the book in front of him and pressed it to his side.  

A few days ago he happened upon your personal sketchbook and would sneak away to thumb through it. Seeing how your skill gradually improved was a marvel on its own.  Primarily you etched the particularly gorgeous scenes that you witnessed while on board the ship.  Scatterings of stars, nebulae and celestial bodies filled the pages with careful attention paid to subtle hue and shade.  He recognized a few of the depictions, and had his favorites.  Although space faring was nothing special to him, witnessing it through your point of view opened his eyes to its beauty.  

Unfamiliar to art and the stirrings that follow he soon didn’t visit the book for its content any longer. Any laugh, brush against his skin, or scent that carried you with its notes urged a longing within.  In falling in love with the images found in your book he also fell for you.  

“Uhm, Krags…?”  

He comes to his senses and fakes a smile.  

“Oh, uh yeah I’m good. Just uh…admiring the view.”

The moon was full and shined through a port hole.  Currently the ship was docked on a Ravager trade post.  Usually they weren’t much by way of scenery but this planet was an exception.  You turn and admire the view with him.

“I hear the skies are grey during the day.  Is that true?”

“Yeah…never a cloud around. But always grey…what color is it on Terra?”

“Depends on the time of day.  But typically, blue.”

“…Like the captain?”

You can’t help but let a giggle escape your lips.

“No, it’s a brighter color. Lighter.”

Kraglin feels the book ripped from his arms with no warning.  

“Thought you might have picked that up from my book.”

“I—I’m sorry y/n.  It was just lying in the bridge I didn’t mean to-”

Your brows raised themselves listing to the skinny Xandarian ramble.  He notices and stops any attempt at excuse.

“It’s alright Krags. I’m honored that you kept it this long, really.  Here,” you open the book and find one that was dogeared.  Carefully you rip it along the perforated line and hand the piece of work to him, “if you promise to write me something about this, you can keep it.”

“Write? I don’t know how to do that fancy stuff, y/n.”

Slowly you reeled the paper back in.

“Well, guess you don’t want it…”

“Wait, no I—I’ll try. But you have to promise not to laugh.”

Smirking you nod and return the page.  Both of you sit down and peer out at the moon in comfortable silence.  

anonymous asked:

Heyoo so um hows spider jack ~ and are you doing more for that fic or nah because I am like sooo invested ~ love it ❤❤❤

Spider Jack is still in the works a bit buuut… I guess I could just drabble a little something now. (Do excuse the mistakes!)
As for the fic though… I’m not sure which one you’re referring to. (I’ve written a lot of random stuff and I don’t super keep track. I do this for the fun of it.)

Here goes, Anon!

Plus, jennpy asked for this little idea awhile back too so I’ll play with it. XD


“Change me back! Change me back now!”

Rhys held his hand over his mouth as the banana spider - now no bigger than his palm - stomped furiously with all of his feet against the defenseless morning glories. It didn’t provide much of an effect besides causing the flowers to wilt much to his distaste as the arachnid made for a quick escape by leaping onto his caretaker’s shorts.

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As It Seems 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader [AU]

Warning: Language. Angst. Drama. The Dirty. Plot Twist.

A/N: Here’s the sequel of How Will I Know. Let me know if you want to be tagged. I am tagging those who were tagged in How Will I Know.

Steve POV Scenes, in almost all of the parts.

It’s been three years since you and Steve ran off and got married to void your contract wedding with James Barnes. Now your best friend Nat is marrying your brother Peter, it’s supposed to be a joyous occasion.  That is till everything fails to go as planned, but nobody said marriage was easy.

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Why Diversity is Good for D&D, from a Mechanical Standpoint

How to Create and Handle Diversity among the Creatures of your Game

Part 2: How I’d Do It

(Part 1: What’s Been Done, and What Not to Do)

To start with, scrap all of this racist “subspecies” bologna. (Except those exceptional evolutionary outliers we talked about, like the drow). Humans are humans, dwarves are dwarves, orcs are orcs, et cetera. Now, let’s start adding some variety. I’m going to go with elves as my example, because they just happen to be what I’ve been doing the most research on recently in regards to mythology surrounding them (specifically pre-JRR Tolkien).

All elves are elves. But not all elves are the same. Like humans, they are diverse with different ethnicities, gender identities, orientations, etc. While they are diverse, all elves are still elves. As elves, there are certain traits that their species tends to have.

Typical D&D elves have a +2 racial ability modifier to their Dexterity (and a -2 to Constitution, pre-5e). Elves are frequently described as being graceful and beautiful, but thin and frail. In ancient mythology they’re often depicted as notoriously charming (or straight up beguiling seducers). But that’s not to say that every elf is a bendy contortionist, and not every elf is a smooth-talking minstrel. (And not every elf is a twig with the HP of a piece of glass.) These are just things that elves, as elves, are naturally inclined to be.

You’ll find that 5e is fairly close to the system I’m about to put forward, but misses the mark but a few things I might talk about in a future post.

I propose a system in which players actually get to pick out the racial special abilities of their character from a list of traits that their character’s species tend to have. This works in a sort of ability trade-off. It’s easier to explain if I just talk through an example, so let’s look at the elf again, and how I’d stat them:

Elves can have either a +2 to Dexterity, or a +2 to Charisma.
They also can take either a -2 to Constitution, or a -2 to Strength.
It’s up to the player to decide which ones they apply to their character, as long as the bonus and penalties add up back to zero. Thus, you could pick one +2 and one -2, or go all-out and take all four modifiers (+2 +2 -2 -2 = 0). You could even decide to take none of the modifiers at all, and just keep your base stats.

Going a step further (though I’m not sure if this will make it into Project TOF), you could create even more variety among a species by having their special abilities vary in a similar fashion. Again, I’ll explain by walking through the elf example:

Elves can have 3 of the following special abilities:

  • Proficiency with Longbows
  • +5′ base land speed
  • +2* to Perception
  • +2* to Persuasion
  • May cast the dancing lights cantrip (using Int as their casting stat)

*Or proficiency in this skill if we’re talking 5e.
If you go this route, there should be certain special abilities in addition these that all members of that species have. Again, they are all still members of the same species, they still have the things that make an elf an elf, but we also want some variation.

All elves have low-light vision, live to be up to 700 years old, and do not need to sleep (instead going into a 4 hour trance).

That’s the basic idea of how I’d create mechanical diversity in a fantasy tabletop RPG. I’ll talk more about the benefits of using mechanics like this in Part 3.

In the Bloom of Life

Steggy Positivity Week, day 5
Prompt: Tropes, Kinks or Cliches 

Summary: Five times Steve gave Peggy flowers, and one time she gave one to him.

AO3 link here.


It’s not the first time he’s seen anything green — he was a Fresh Air Fund kid for a couple of summers, and there’s Central Park, of course — but the lawn outside the barracks at Camp Lehigh is the first place where the green doesn’t really belong to anyone. There’s no groundskeeper, no housewife keeping a careful eye, and Steve doesn’t think anyone would even bother watering this spot, so he doesn’t feel bad about absently picking at the grass.

He’s not sure the sentry would agree about that, or even about him being outside instead of resting up for his big procedure tomorrow, though, so he makes sure to press into the shadows as a flashlight beam shines around.

“Best be quicker next time,” a voice says by his ear. “You would have been caught if Stokes were actually paying a bit of attention to his job.”

Steve scrambles up. “Agent Carter.” His eyes blur from looking into the light of the window where she’s framed, but he salutes quickly at the negative space where he knows she exists. “I was just looking to get some air.”

“Relax, Private.” She sounds vaguely amused. “I’m not looking to write you up. I think you’re entitled to a little relaxation.” After a very minor pause, not even long enough for him to think up a response, she adds, “I actually was coming to see if you were prepared for tomorrow.”

Steve shrugs. “No one’s given me any real details about what’s going to happen, so I don’t know how prepared I can be.”

“A fair point.”

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To wrap up the recurring girls at Casper High, here are a few who, as far as I know, are never given names. We know that there are students named Donna, Sasha, and Denise, but they’re only mentioned by name. We don’t know if they’re any of these girls. It’s a possibility worth keeping in mind, though.

Since they don’t have names, here are my nicknames for them: veggie burger (in reference to the one person who said she looks like a Tucker and Sam lovechild), curly, Dee Dee, kitty shirt, tall hair, Ember fan, and the cheerleaders. Hopefully that’s easy enough to follow.

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Travel within District 12

I’ve never been in a car before. Rarely even ridden in wagons. In the Seam, we travel on foot.” - Katniss narrating as they travel to the train.

Wait, wagons? Like Conestoga, Oregon Trail style? With horses? Maybe something like a stagecoach. I don’t think I ever quite picked up on that line before. No cars is easy to digest, but this wagon business is just baffling to me. Caring for horses sounds implausible when people regularly starve, although the fact that Seam folk mostly walk and don’t use wagons could mean maybe only the more food-secure people have the horses.

I think I’ve decided that “wagons” means something like a rickshaw. The well to do might buy a bicycle when they age out of the reaping and then add harnessing gear when they get married. If both people have bikes, then they can get a fancier harness system or trade in one bike for a really nice carriage. Modern human powered vehicles could morph into something that is usable and is called a wagon.

What do you think? Are people tooling around D12 like this: 

Or this: 

(pictures from wikipedia)

Izumi: Mage. Izumi has done extensive amounts of reading and discovered he has a fondness for the art of magic, so he is working to find an apprenticeship to develop his skills and put his reading to use.

Yuu: Beastmaster. Yuu has a knack for understanding different animals and gaining their trust, often spending days in the wild to learn more about them. He uses this mostly for educational purposes, but they have saved him in times of trouble.

Ren: Psion. Able to use high-level psychic powers. Ren has been disciplined since birth and has a mastery of them, leaning to his own laziness when using the powers and spells.

Touya: War Monk. Touya prefers to heal, but he understands the need to fight. He will use his sword if necessary, but if a person falls, he is the first to respond and give them care. He hates to see suffering.

Hajime: Warrior. He is a versatile fighter who has great strength. Able to wield heavy weapons with serious proficiency, Hajime is a force to be reckoned with. He is also a skilled commander. 

Reiji: Sorcerer. Reiji has fire magic imbued in his veins, and can summon it at will. His staff allows him more control over the magic - if he didn’t have it, explosions would occur on a daily basis.

Shun: Scavenger. Shun seeks treasure and often goes traveling for it, finding himself in trouble often. He never steals from others, only looking for what has been hidden in the world.

Souma: Alchemist. He has extensively studied magic and the art of alchemy, preferring to craft his spells, as he cannot draw on power from within to perform it.

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The Jack and The Glue

Originally posted by jeonjjkook

You Know the Drill!!

Originally written by @swedteen​ ; All rights go to her, I just had a little fun with her imagine.

The alarm is ringing loudly in my ears as Aris, some boys from Maze A, Theresa, and I are running down the hallway. I only recognize one boy, Thomas, but the others are unknown to me, however since Aris trusts them I suppose I will, too. After all, they want the same thing I do. To get the hell out of here. One of the boys look familiar, his face tickles the back of my mind, almost as if I knew him from before the Maze. I can’t really put my finger on why, but his sandy blonde hair, his honey brown eyes, hell, his entire being seems so familiar. But that’s not my main focus right now. We have to get out of here, but the guards are closing in, and we’re running out of options.

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A/N: The last chapter and epilogue! Thank you to everyone who’s supported this mini fic! I’m home (boo) and will be starting to get this blog back to normal again over the next few days! I hope you all enjoy the final chapter and epilogue! 😁❤️

Chapter 6

You woke up at first light and continued walking as the sun rose. Greg’s words were still fresh in your mind from last night and you were losing focus on the jungle in front of you.

“Y/N…? Y/N…?”

Your head snapped around to Sherlock “Yes! Sorry! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing it’s just..we should be here? I’ve checked the map and the cave should be here”. You furrowed your brows and walked over to him and read the crinkled map.

“You’re right…” You quietly muttered and grabbed onto your hat before exasperatingly rubbing your face “Oh god you’re right…”

“Maybe it’s just up a bit?” There’s a rock face up there?“ John spoke up.

“That’s a bit far” Molly interjected.

You let out a tried groan and glanced at your surroundings. Greg’s eyes caught Ito something that looked like a rope and he picked it up “What’s this?” He asked and you turned around and furrowed your brow.

That was before a look of shock took over your face and you screamed as the ground under your feet disappeared. The five of you fell into a cavern with a thud, letting out pained groans and grunts as you ended up colliding with each other and falling debris on the floor of the cavern. “Everybody alright?” You asked as your eyes adjusted to the dark. A choir of ‘Yeses’ replied and you looked around and grabbed a pieced of wood, wrapping some cloth around it and setting it alight, brightening the cavern.

You turned to the four “Let’s get something straight before we continue,” you told the slightly bruised and blooded and dirty faces before you “If you touch something and it doesn’t kill you or impale you, I will.” You warned and the four nodded “Do not touch anything.”

You walked though the cool tunnel and reached a bare room with a empty stone table in the centre of it “It can’t be here…” You let out a disappointed sigh.

“No, it should be!” Sherlock argued. You glanced around and noticed the words written in the walls.

You spoke them aloud as you wandered around the room “The bird…a friend of death…protects her…the bird will soar…while she will remain…under its wings…” You questioned what it meant.

Sherlock was riddled with disappointment and he marched up to the table where, to his surprise, he found a little yellow note with the words ‘IOU’ on it. He picked it up and noticed a square underneath it carved into the stone. He ran his fingers over it and it sunk into the table. His stomach dropped as the lid of the table began to sink in.

“What did you do?!” John screamed and your head snapped around. You rushed over to the tall brunette.

“I told you not to fucking touch anything! Don’t you listen?!” You screamed and the room began to quake.

“I didn’t I pressed a square!” Sherlock’s voice pitched and you let out a growl.

Then the tremors stopped and you let out an early sigh of relief. Your eyes caught onto something twinkling. Gold. It was the statue. As much as you wanted to look at it you turned away and warned the others not to look into its eyes either. Sherlock placed a bag over it and picked it up.

The room shook again, this time more violently “I just told you not to touch anything!” You screamed at Sherlock at the top of your lungs. Then the colour drained from your face and you felt your stomach drop when you heard a cry from an infamously ruthless, murderous tribe.

You glanced to everyone “We have to get it of here”.

As soon as the worlds left your mouth you were running for your life out of the room to the end of the tunnel. You could hear the tribe nearing and before you jumped out of the cave you came to a halt seeing a large drop to the river. The ground was starting to break away at the edge and you pushed the others back again.

“What do we do?!” Molly was panicking and frantically glancing between you, the river below and the nearing tribe.

“We don’t have a choice” you told her and the five of your jumped into the Amazon river. You whole body was submerged under the water and you eventually rose to the surface, coughing and spluttering out some of the water that had ended up in your throat. You placed your hat on your head and did a quick headcount and noticed that everyone was bobbing along in the river. You glanced up and saw the tribe standing by the tunnel exit you grasped onto your gun, ready to shoot, as it looked like the tribe were about to toss their spears but they turned their backs.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and turned to face Greg and gaze into his eyes “Do you still think this is paradise?” You asked remembering his words.

He didn’t say a word instead he leaned forward attempting to get closer to you but all of you ended up getting caught up in a rush of water heading towards a waterfall “Swim to the shore!” You screamed out but swimming against the current was too difficult and you were falling though the air and water. The five of you let out screams that battled against the noise of the crashing water below you and you all crashed into the springs under the falls.
Eventually managing to swim to shore you made sure everyone was alright before assessing your surroundings.

“There’s a cave over…over there” you breathed out, taking deep gulps of oxygen that you were almost too unappreciative of before being subjected to a waterfall.

The five of you made your way there and let out gasps of awe seeing all the gold lined walls “What is this place…?” John asked and you shook your head.

You all made your way through the cave before reaching something that you had seen before.

A tomb.

You noticed two caskets before each other and an abundance of gifts and jewels and gold surrounding them. You slowly walked over the the casket and realisation stuck you as you looked at the two bright blue gems that represented eyes on one of the coffins. “This is their tomb…the two rulers…” You could barely raise your voice above a whisper you were so overwhelmed.

“Well…well….well…what do we have here?” A voice from behind you made you spin on your heel. You recognised that voice and that face and that hair…even if it was soaking wet. It was the man from the airport. He stood there with a statue of a bird and you clicked onto where he picked that up. It was a decoy statue that was sitting on top of the death gift. Then you noticed him pointing a gun at the five of you and you went to reach for yours but it was gone, lost in the Amazon river. You scanned for any sort of weapon someone might have but there was nothing.

“Moriarty…” Sherlock spat out.

“You two know each other?!” Your voice was laced with confusion and worry.

“Give me the death gift, Sherlock” the Irishman asked.

“He can’t!” You spoke up and you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

Moriarty raised a brow “And why can’t he do that?” He asked cocking his gun and pointing it at you.

'Why is it every time I come here I’m on the verge of being killed?’ You mentally asked yourself before answering Moriarty “Because it belongs here…” You told him and he let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Hand it over Sherlock. Now” he demanded and turned the gun to Sherlock and your hand brushed against something…the whip.

You gripped onto it and snapped it at Moriarty’s hand causing him to drop the gun as the whip cracked. Greg picked it up and pointed the gun at him “I wouldn’t mess with her…especially with that whip” he smirked.

You went over to Moriarty and tightly wrapped the whip around his hands, bounding them together. You turned to Sherlock who was holding the bag with the statue in it “This could tell me so much…” He pondered.

“You know it belongs here” Molly told him and he looked down at her with a sad smile.

“I know,” he sighed “I just can’t help but feel like we came all this way for nothing”.

You looked at the ground, feeling disappointed for your newfound friend. You scammed your eyes around the room and found something else that he might find interesting to solve and figure out.

You went over to the gold gilded box and carefully picked it up “How about a trade of sorts?”

He looked at the box with a raised brow “What is it?”

You smiled and handed it to him “They call it 'Deduções sem fim’ or in English 'Endless deductions’”.

“I thought you said not to touch anything?” He raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms “The rules don’t apply to me, Holmes. I know what to do if I get myself into bother”.

Sherlock left the tomb with a smile on his face and the box in his hand. You returned to the tribe you had stayed with before when you first arrived. You sat by the riverbed that night twisting and twirling the green opal between your fingers.

“I knew that journal wouldn’t save us”

You turned to Greg with a smile “We aren’t out of the jungle yet”.

“No but we will be tomorrow…” He trailed off and you both looked out to the Amazon river.

“Will you miss it here? Your so-called 'paradise’?” You lightly teased and he let out a chuckle before it died down in his throat when he looked at you, only to find you looking straight at him.

“No, I won’t miss it. It will always be with me…”

You raised a brow “What do you mean?” Greg scooted over a bit and placed a hand under your chin “Your eyes, when I look into them. That’s paradise”. He closed the gap between the two of you and passionately kissed you, releasing all those feelings he had been harbouring for years on to your lips.

He eventually pulled away leaving you gasping for air before you pounced on him again and kissed him underneath the stars.

“You didn’t even learn any laws…” You mumbled against his lips.

“No,” he replied “But I did learn how great you look in that hat and how hot it was when you cracked that whip”. You let out a laugh and pulled back, shaking your head at the charming, witty professor.

You knew he was going to be your next adventure.


“I have a class staring in a minute…” Greg murmured against your lips before you used your arms that were behind his neck to pull him forward, crushing his lips to yours again.

“Alright but I’ll see you at break Professor Lestrade” you teased and shot him a wink before he rushed off to his class.

You couldn’t help but smile watching him dash off. It had been two years since you arrived back from South America and since then you and Greg had been inseparable. You still remained in contact, and great friends with Sherlock, John and Molly. You had also written to Indy but never got a response back.

You were marking papers when boots thudding across the floor made you raise your head “My god…” You stood up and dropped the fountain pen that was in your hand, rushing to the rugged exporter that was standing by your threshold.

“Good to see you too kid, I knew you’d get back in one piece!” You unwrapped your arms from him and smiled “I saw in your letters you made good use of those presents I gave you” he cockily smirked.

“I did, thank you. That whip did save my arse.” You folded your arms and sent him a scolding glare “I was so worried Indy, you never wrote back to me!”

“I know I’ve been busy”.

“With what?” You asked.

“I was hoping you’d ask that,” he rushed to your desk and unraveled a scroll “That’s why I’m here,” he pointed at the map with uncharted land on it “I need some help”.
You placed both hands on he map and he let out a loud gasp “Hey! Wait a second!” Indy exclaimed and grabbed your left hand “Where the hell did you get that rock?!” His eyes almost popped out of his head seeing a diamond ring on your ring finger.

“It was my grandmothers” a voice came from the door and Indy turned around and looked between the both of you, still holding your hand.

“Well it’s about time,” he turned to you with a smirk “You couldn’t keep drooling over me forever, sweet cheeks.”

You playfully slapped his chest “Bastard,” you muttered out and turned to Greg “He’s asking me to go on another expedition…”

“You should,” Greg walked forward and shook Indiana’s hand before wrapping an arm around your waist.

We all should” you corrected.

“Who?” Indy asked.

You looked up to Greg with a knowing smile before facing Indy “Do you think there’s room for a few friends?”

The explorer shrugged “Sure! Why not! There’s always room on a plane to paradise” he winked and tapped on the map.

“That’s where your wrong professor Jones,” Greg spoke up and Indy raised brow at him while you looked up to your fiancée.

Greg turned his head and he gazed into your eyes “Paradise is closer than you think”.


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