i severely underestimated how long it would take me to do these

EXO’s Reaction to You Wanting Rougher Sex

A/N: SO I changed this one a little b/c i’m pretty sure all the boys would already be naturally dominate, instead i made it into you wanting it rougher ehuehuehue


Xiumin:

Xiumin’s arousal would be obvious when you told him that you wanted rougher sex. His eyebrows would raise slightly, a mischievous look flashing in his eyes. “Sure, jagi..as long as you think you could handle it,” he’d say in a soft, warning voice, making your insides flutter with excitement.

Chen:

When you told Chen your request, he’d go quiet for a minute. “You sure?” he’d ask, and when you nodded he’d just smirk. Though you were seriously sore in the morning, that night was one of the best so far.

Baekhyun:

Baek knew where you were going before you finished your sentence, and you could see him slowly getting turned on the more you spoke. He’d readily agree, eyeing you up and down like a meal, making you shiver with anticipation for the night to come.

Chanyeol:

Chanyeol wouldn’t have a big reaction when you suggested rougher sex, and you thought he just wasn’t taking you seriously. You almost thought he had forgotten when night came, however he quickly showed you just how rough he could be.

Lay:

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me if I hurt you,” Lay would say when you asked him. You’d reassure him that you’d be fine. It wasn’t until you teased him and forced him to become rougher that he finally let out his true side.

D.O:

Already a bit rough, D.O would be secretly surprised that you wanted to go further. He’d readily agree, but do everything he could to make sure you were comfortable. Nonetheless, you had several hickeys to hide in the morning.

Suho:

Always overflowing with care and concern for you, Suho would be hesitant to go harder in bed. It wasn’t until you practically begged him that he agreed–the idea of being rough with you secretly arousing him more than he cared to admit.

Kai:

More of a smooth, sensual lover, being rough would be somewhat foreign to Kai. When you explained what you meant, all with a red face, he’d smirk and nod. After that night, it took what seemed like a week to regain feeling in your legs.

Sehun:

Even more rough and dominant than D.O, Sehun would be seriously turned on when you asked for rougher. “You sure about this though? I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” he’s say cockily. You’d insist you could handle it, however that night you realized just how much you had underestimated him in the best way.

Modern Animorphs AU (part 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part 1 here 

@stardreamerlove sent me this amazing prompt for all injured paladins and no working pods and Lance ignoring his injuries to tend to the others until he collapses

Sorry this took so long, love!

It was becoming common knowledge amongst the paladins that they did not do as well in hand-to-hand combat as compared to fighting with their lions. However, in some cases, attacking on foot seemed like a better option than attacking with the lions. 

They had come across a small Galra base on an abandoned planet. They wanted to try and find out any plans for the main Galra ship, so they decided to attack on foot while the castle hovered nearby in case of necessary assistance.

They had plotted and planned for two days, but when the day to attack came, they had quickly realized that they severely underestimated the amount of Galra in the base.

The fight was brutal; there were Galra at every corner, but whether it was sheer force or will, the paladins somehow won– but not without injury. They, as well as the castle, took a severe beating, especially Lance.

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assbutts-and-angelwings  asked:

I don't really have any prompts, but if you look up the Jamilton tag on @midnigtartist's blog, you might get a few ideas! Aimee is complete Jamilton trash, loves the heck outta them

I did just that! The prompt/feeling I got from that is “Jefferson actually likes kids and takes care of Philip for a day when Hamilton loses track of him, causing Hamilton’s entire view of Jefferson as a person to shift”

@midnigtartist Happy birthday! I was already writing this before I learned it was your birthday, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! You’re art is great! Also, I sent you an ask about this but severely underestimated the size of your inbox. If/when you see the anon that sounds suspiciously like this post, feel free to ignore it! 


As much as he’d like it to be the case, Thomas did not at first recognize the kid loitering around the office. He did however, recognize that the kid couldn’t be more than 10 years old, if that- and was therefore too young to be standing around anywhere, never mind outside the ‘Washington and Associates’ law firm.

It wasn’t quite time to pack up, but Thomas figured this was more important. Plus, no one else was dealing with it, or even noticing. He saved his work, and stood up.

“Leaving early?” James poked his head up, at Thomas’ movement.

“There’s a kid hanging around outside, it’s distracting,” Thomas explained. James peeked out the window, furrowed his brows, and nodded.

“Don’t take too long,” James reminded, turning back to his work. Thomas rolled his eyes and nodded, even though he knew James’ attention was already back to his work.

The kid jumped when Thomas opened the door, immediately turning around and looking down as if he just happened to be standing there. It wasn’t very convincing.

“Hi,” Thomas pitched his voice, warmer and completely devoid of his usual sarcastic drawl. “You’ve been standing out here for a while, is there anything I can help you with?” Up close, the kid was even smaller. The parents had better be nearby, or Thomas would be having words.

“Uhh,” The kid’s head bobbed up, then straight down, his mass of curls hiding his face. Thomas felt his heart thaw, just a bit- the kid was just shy. Which was fair, given Thomas was a tall, mysterious stranger. Even adults tended to be intimidated. Thomas leaned down, dropping to the kid’s level.

“That’s okay,” Thomas tried to put the kid at ease. “Could you tell me where your parents are, so we can find them?”

“Umm,” The kid started again, but this time he brushed his hair behind an ear and glanced up to Thomas’ chin. “Mom’s at her home, I’m s'posed to be with Dad this week, and he’s s'posed to be here. I think.” He nervously glanced up at the building. “There’s only one Washington law place, right?”

Ah, a divorced kid. “Yes, as far as I’m aware, this is the only Washington law place,” Thomas didn’t want to correct the kid and possibly confuse him. Still, he couldn’t stop an amused smile at the term ‘law place’. “Can you tell me your Dad’s name?”

The kid froze, paling instantly. “U-uh, it’s my Dad, um…” He started shaking. Crap.

Thomas thought quickly. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” He smiled wide, waving his hand in what he hoped was more comforting than dismissive, though he used it in the latter sense far more often. “Could you tell me your name, instead?”

“Oh!”, the kid grinned. “My name’s Philip Hamilton! I’m 8 years old!” Thomas nearly flinched. There was only one Hamilton who worked at Washington’s, and there was no way this was a coincidence. He should have guessed- Hamilton’s divorce was well known in lawyer circles, and now that he was looking for it, the kid’s face bore some resemblance. Standing in front of Thomas was his biggest work rival’s son.

There wasn’t anything for it, though. Thomas was hardly going to just leave the kid out here. “Nice to meet you, Philip. I work with your Dad. My name’s Thomas Jefferson.”

Philip’s eyes lit up in recognition. Thomas had just enough time to worry about what exactly the kid was recognizing. “Jefferson? Dad mentions you all the time! He says you’re really distracting!”

Distracting, huh? Not 'evil’, not 'idiotic’; nor any of the other insults Hamilton would shout to his face? Not even 'bad man’, if he wanted to soften it to his kid? Thomas itched to ply Philip for answers, for what Hamilton really thought; but it was the middle of winter and now was not the time.

“How about we wait inside for your Dad, and you tell me what you’re doing out here?” Thomas spoke cautiously, not sure how Philip would react to being asked to go somewhere with a relative stranger.

Strangely though, Philip’s shyness went straight out the window after his introduction. “Oh! That’s because Dad promised me this time, for real promised, that he’d get off work on time and take me to see a movie! I wanted to make sure he really would, so I looked up 'Washington law’ on google and bussed here all by myself!” Thomas led the way to the building as Philip chattered, small hand immediately latching onto Thomas’ fingers.

“That’s very cool!” Thomas enthused, opening the door and immediately shooting a glare at every person who stared. “Now, your Dad’s out now, the boss sent him to the courthouse to drop something off, but we can wait for him, alright?”

Philip beamed. “Alright! This place looks even cooler than I thought!” He was so enthusiastic, that Thomas couldn’t help but smile back. Hamilton would still be getting an earful, being so unreliable that his 8 year old child felt the need to escape his babysitter and bus through the middle of town to check up on him. Hell, did he even have a babysitter?

Thomas’ work was left, forgotten on his desk. James would clean up for him, this was more important. “What do you say to meeting your Dad’s boss?” He needed to at least explain the situation, after all.

“Mr. Washington? Yeah! Dad says he’s too nosy, and Mom says he’s basically like my second grandpa, even though I’ve never met him before.”

Thomas couldn’t stop the chuckle if he tried. “Did he? You’ll have to tell me more, later.” He joked, but Philip nodded anyways. This was far better than finishing his work.

Alex was determined to keep his promise, for real this time. He was not staying late, and if possible, he would even be home early. Washington owed it to him, for all that free overtime.

Unfortunately, all the owing in the world meant nothing when Washington ordered him to take some important documents to the courthouse, a good half hour away, when the day was nearly over. Alex could never say no to a direct request like that, even if Washington probably would have relented if he explained his circumstances.

No, he could do this and still be out on time, if he drove straight to Philip’s school, instead of back to the firm, first. Alex did so, driving as fast as he reasonably could.

Only, when he did that, Philip had already left, instead of waiting for him. In fact, he had left for the washroom in the last hour of class, and never returned, according to the teacher. Alex barely spared the time to chew them out for not keeping a better headcount, and then he was running off to his car and to home.

Philip wasn’t at home either. Alex started panicking in earnest. He could be anywhere, but why would he? Philip was so excited about going to see the movie, he wouldn’t have just run off today of all days, would he? But he alternative- if Philip hadn’t purposefully run off himself- was far worse. Alex started by doing circles of the neighbourhood, then the local parks.

Alex was focused; so focused that his phone remained in his pocket, battery dead before he’d even realized Philip was missing.

It must have been hours later, the sun starting to set, when Alex finally gave up. He had panicked somewhere early down the line, and never quite stopped. His limbs were shaking. Alex had lost his son.

He didn’t want to even think about the phone call he would have to make to Eliza. But first, he’d check the house again, just in case. Alex wasn’t holding out much hope at this point.

Alex was just stressed enough to miss the strange car behind his in the driveway. He was not, however, too stressed to notice two people sitting in his living room.

“Hamilton, about time!” Jefferson waved his arms enthusiastically, though something sharp glinted in his eyes. Alex’s brain stuttered for a moment at the sight of his coworker/rival relaxing in his home, but then Philip was bounding into his arms.

“Dad! Where the heck where you? Mr. Jefferson’s called you like, a million times!”

“Wha- Philip, where have you been? You weren’t at school, the teachers told me you disappeared, you weren’t at home, I’ve been worried sick, looking for you!” Harsh, panicked words spilled from Alex’s mouth, even as he seized his son in a fierce hug. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Philip hugged back tight, voice suddenly subdued and guilty. “I just wanted to find you at work, so you’d actually go on time.”

Alex loosened his hug so that he could face Philip directly. “Wait, you what-?” Alex cut himself off, remembering the other person in the room. “Jefferson, why the fu-heck are you here?” Philip’s head poked up at Alex’s accusatory tone, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Nice save,” Jefferson smirked, always as irritating as possible. “Also, is that really the way you want to be speaking to the guy who’s been watching your kid all evening? When I could have been doing anything else with my time?”

There was no reason for Jefferson to be lying. In fact, that answer made the most sense, given that Jefferson had literally been in his home, watching Philip, when Alex got in there. Still though, this was Jefferson. Instinctive denial surged in his chest. “Excuse me-”

“I’m sorry!” Philip shouted again, lip trembling. He wasn’t looking at Alex though, instead facing Jefferson. “I didn’t mean to waste your day!”

Alex’s blood ran cold. That was exactly the opening one could never make to Jefferson- he could never hold back his infuriating sarcastic comments. He was going open his mouth and spout some negative bullshit that would make Philip cry, because Jefferson was an asshole who didn’t have any kids and probably hated them.

Jefferson did open his mouth, but his eyes were suddenly wide, with surprise and maybe guilt- something Alex had never seen him wear. He scrambled off the couch. “No no, I didn’t mean that, Philip! You’ve been great fun!” Jefferson assured, stepping over to crouch in front of Philip.

Philip looked up at him cautiously. Alex held his breath, completely taken aback. “Really?”, Philip whispered, and Alex could hear the tiny smile working its way into his voice.

“Of course!” Jefferson reached a hand over to ruffle his hair. “I got to read all your poems, and you got to hear all about the silly things your Dad does at work! It’s just that your Dad’s back now, so I should probable get going.” He gave Philip a wide grin, full of warmth and life.

Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Jefferson with a smile like that. It did something to his stomach that he’d rather not analyze.

“No! You gotta stay for supper! We can’t do the movie anymore anyways, right Dad!” Philip bounced back, both emotionally and literally, on the balls of his feet.

Alex opened his mouth, searching for an excuse that wouldn’t upset Philip. Then, he glanced over to Jefferson. He was fidgeting, glancing away awkwardly. With a start, Alex realized he must have actually had fun. Somehow, Jefferson was actually really good with kids, if Philip’s excitement meant anything; and now he was standing there, in Alex’s house, looking more awkward and vulnerable than Alex had ever seen him.

“Yeah… yeah, he can stay. If he wants to.” Alex didn’t even want to guess what his face looked like right now. He wasn’t even sure what his feelings looked like right now. It was all a mess of exposed wires, his entire worldview turned on its head.

Jefferson flinched in surprise for a moment, eyes snapping to Alex. Then, he gauged Alex’s pure, undiluted confusion, and a smile slowly took his face, one that more closely resembled the teasing smirks Alex was used to. Now though, it seemed just a little less aggressive than Alex remembered.

“I suppose I can stay and tell your Dad all about how you skipped your last class, looked up his workplace online, and then bussed there all by yourself without telling anybody.” Jefferson shrugged, nonchalant.

“What! Mr. Jefferson, no!” Philip whined, even as he smiled broadly. “I’m gonna get grounded!”

Jefferson laughed. “Well, whose fault is that? You’re a little troublemaker!”

Philip spouted denials in between giggles. Alex felt his paradigm shift further off axis. “I guess I’ll get started,” Alex said, quiet and distant. He stood up and edged his way to the kitchen. Jefferson and Philip continued to chat in his hallway.

Somewhere between numb and completely unsure of himself, Alex turned the oven on and got out a frozen pizza. He took as much time as he could retrieving the round pan and opening the pizza box. Replaying in his mind was the smile Jefferson had made at Philip. His stomach flipped again.

“Hey,” Jefferson’s voice was calm and subdued, but made Alex jump a foot anyways. “I put the TV on for Philip.” He was right behind Alex, nearly crowding him into the counter. “I assume you want to know what’s been going on? No one’s been on the same page today.”

Alex swallowed. It wasn’t the first time Jefferson had crowded him, Alex had realized over time that it was more a matter of not knowing about personal space, rather than an active bid at intimidation. It was also overwhelming, especially now. “Uh,” Alex started, horrified at the squeak his voice made. “I guess not.”

Jefferson smirked- how could he not?- but relented, backing up a step. “It really wasn’t all that crazy. The kid showed up in the last hour of work, and no one else would do it, so I watched him. Tried to call your phone, I’m assuming it’s dead.” Alex dug into his pocket, pulling out a very dead phone. He paled. “No, it’s fine, it’s done.” Jefferson waved his hand dismissively. “I didn’t- I mean, it wasn’t awful.”

Alex paused at Jefferson’s stutter. His ears were pink. Adorable, Alex thought, then shook it from his mind. “Thank you,” he said instead.

“Uhhh,” Jefferson’s ears turned pinker. “No offense, but that sounds so weird coming from you.” Suddenly, he started laughing. “And I just said 'no offense’, which is even weirder!”

Alex snorted. Giggles stumbled their way between his lips, turning into chuckles, then full blown laughter. “Oh my God,” Alex wheezed, “This is so weird!”

Jefferson was howling right beside him. “I know, right?!”

Their laughs petered off, save for a quiet snicker from the distance. Both their heads whipped around- Philip peeked from the doorway. “Dad hasn’t laughed like that in ages,” He said knowingly. “You guys should hang out more. Hey, can Mr. Jefferson come with us to the movie, next time?”

Alex flushed, his mind stumbling to a stop, not sure if it was from the sheer audacity of the question, or how the idea of going out with Jefferson sounded too much like a date. His only saving grace was that it was probably the last thing Jefferson wanted, anyways. It didn’t matter that the sight of him being so nice to Philip did things to Alex’s heart.

“That sounds nice. If your Dad agrees.” Jefferson gave Philip an indulgent smile, then turned to Alex, question standing.  A quiet blush graced his cheekbones as well. He looked so much more attractive- cute, Alex’s brain supplied- when it was open like this. Usually, Jefferson’s appearance was the only attractive thing about him. Alex realized suddenly that he was gone- had been gone the moment Jefferson had revealed a side of himself that wasn’t pure opposition to everything Alex stood for.

“Alright,” Alex agreed. He needed to see where this was going. He was going to figure Jefferson out, or die trying.

The Two Sherlocks

For the World’s Most Patient Anon:  What if Sherlock is captured by Eurus (?) and the reader must solve her puzzle in order to save him - with whatever little she’s learned from being with him. She must decide who is the real Sherlock in a room with two; shoot one or die all together.

Thank you so much to this amazing Anon for this amazing idea and for holding me to task. I strayed a bit from the request, so I hope you don’t mind! And thank you to the gorgeous and talented @igottomuchfreetimeonmyhands who dropped everything to help me finish it! 

Without further ado, I give you my first story in months: THE TWO SHERLOCKS

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2 | Save Me

BTS X READER: GANG / CRIME AU
word count: 3,405 
i’m sorry

warnings: violence, gore probably smut at some point I mean it’s me we’re talking about, dead bodies etc

Originally posted by annabartollo

masterlist | ask | prev | next


“You’d better take her back to headquarters, Namjoon will want to know why she’s still alive." 


"You can stop pretending to be asleep now.” Jungkook whispered as he started the car engine, “Taehyung can’t see us through the blackout windows.” His comment was everything but comforting, you were awkwardly sprawled across the back seat of a car without blacked out windows, about to be taken to some kind of headquarters where you would no doubt be killed. 

“Who are you? What do you want with me? Are you going to kill me?” Your voice wobbled as you sat up in the car so you could watch the city lights zoom past you, the memory of Jungkook killing a man still playing in your mind, 

“If I wanted you dead I would have killed you by now.” His voice was stern and flat, emotionless. 

“You murd-" 

"I’ll explain everything in time. Which way is your apartment?" 

"I’m not telling you where I live! Are you crazy?! You just shot a guy in the face! I- I thought we were going to-" 

"Don’t underestimate me and just tell me what I want to know. How do I get to your apartment?" 

Silence. 

"I could always pull the car over and break your fingers until one of them points me in the right direction." 

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anonymous asked:

Your inbox is open, yaaaaay~! May I request headcanons or scenarios where Reaper, 76, and poly!Roadrat have a super small s/o? I'm talking like, 5 feet. You can do just one if you want. I really love my tallbois.

Reaper

He constantly teases you about it. Like this man is a foot taller than you, he loves to goad that over you

You are amorcito and pollito and chiquita and sirenita, all nicknames that indicate you are small and cute. You wanna be upset about it but they’re sweet and the way he smirks when he says them to you

He doesn’t underestimate you though, he grew up around fierce, short women and even in his teasing he’s still respectful of you. He also knows that if you explode, he better run though

You are constantly in his lap because he likes having his tiny little s/o in his lap and nuzzling the top of your head

Soldier: 76

This overprotective man is so worried about his tiny lover, like can you say mother hen? He fusses and you take it in stride, rolling your eyes at him 

When you are angry he listens to your concerns and listens and when you are calm and he has fixed what was wrong, it’s a gentle teasing of how cute you are when you’re angry

He enjoys throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you around and at first you’ll protest but it’s sweet and he’s holding you close and you love it

poly Roadrat

((So my OC Ava’s height is 5′1″ so this was the easiest one for me to do lol))

When the boys don’t have their weapons on, you are constantly riding their back, they absolutely love to feel you holding onto them. Mako cradles you in his arms a lot, especially if there’s a lot of trekking going on. It’s difficult for your short legs to keep up with their long steps. 

Jamison has a million nicknames for how tiny and cute you are and he never tires of telling you how small you are compared to him and Hog and you just giggle and smile at him. Hog typically calls you shortstuff or shortcake, both said in a very sweet manner

Jamison constantly puts you on his shoulders so you can actually reach Roadhog’s mask or lips without having to beg the man to bend down. Now, Roadhog has absolutely no problem bending over but you like feeling tall and he loves to run around with you on there before giving in for kisses

You can scramble up their bodies with no issue, the vests they wear making that fairly easy to do

In dangerous situations, neither one of them would pause, picking you up and tucking you under their arm and running with you. Mako has taken both you and Jamison under his arms before taking off running

Both love to throw you and toss you into the air, you love it because it’s fun and because you can play a tiny lookout. Mako has no problem throwing you several meters into the air so you can get a look of the environment, you never concerned that he might drop you

Try

Request: Can you do #6 with Yugyeom please? ^^ Maybe angst but ends fluffy?

6) “My nightmares usually involve losing you.”

Member: Got7′s Yugyeom x Y/N

Type: angst/fluff


Your lids were heavy as you ran your fingers through Yugyeom’s hair for what had to have been the thousandth time. You had been cautiously waiting for his breathing to steady and shifting to halt after he had climbed into bed beside you hours ago. He had found difficulty sleeping for months and you had joked that only BamBam could comfort his fears of the dark. Of course he had insisted he didn’t have any fears to begin with. 

You looked warily to the sleeping form of BamBam, not terribly far from the full mattress you were cuddled upon. You smiled fondly upon the man, not much older than your own boyfriend, and looked back down. They had to have been your favorite people on the planet. 

So what you were doing was the right decision…wasn’t it?

You cautiously rocked the mattress, unsurprised when Yugyeom only grumbled sleepily and flopped over. Once asleep, he was normally a pretty sound sleeper, having adapted to taking advantage of what rest he could. You slowly slid atop the sheets, attempting to create as little motion as possible as you pushed away from them. Your feet plopped onto the floor, causing you to instantly shiver from the cold of the hardwood. You bit you lip and held your breath as the bed creaked, releasing your weight from it’s springs. 

It took a moment for you to calm your breathing as you stood between the two beds. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and caused the pounding of your own heart to echo in your ear drums. You closed your eyes tightly before reopening them again and nodded to yourself. You were making the right decision. 

You had been dating Yugyeom for a few months now, accidentally winning his heart around the same time the JYP dating ban had been lifted. Upon moving to Korea, you never had intentions of looking for love, especially with a pop idol. You had bumped into him one day during a shift at the small cafe you had worked at, spilling coffee all over both of you. As you had dabbed at his white pants (seriously, who owned white pants?) you had unintentionally dabbed your way into his heart. 

You had underestimated how lovable he was, but then again, maybe he had done the same for you. In no time, you had become inseparable. He quickly introduced you to his members who had taken you in as one of their own. You became a constant fixture at their dorm, but soon felt the ware your presence caused. 

Since the days in which you became more serious, you had noticed the added stress you had provided to the Got7 members. While Yugyeom loved his group, the music, and dancing, he seemed to love something just as equally those days. 

You. 

You had tried to ignore them at first, the side eyes from Jaebum and Jinyoung when you entered a room. The men in which you were initially so close to now knew you as a distraction. You constantly argued with Yugyeom about appearing during dance practices, but he wanted you there, so you tried to become as small and uninteresting as possible. The theory seemed fine in your mind, but it wouldn’t take long for Yugyeom to fall off task and get scolded by one of his hyungs as soon as you appeared. He was a pro at trying to impress you, but his members were exhausted by his antics. Antics that you had unintentionally encouraged simply by your existence. 


Earlier that week, after promising to make the members dinner, you had unwittingly walked in on a team meeting. The tension was thick in the living area as you remained frozen in the entryway, popping off your shoes and struggling with grocery bags. You had taken a deep breath, ready to call out to the boys to help you, but stopped yourself. You hissed as if you were a deflated balloon, swallowing your yell as you heard Jaebum’s annoyed voice echo down the hallway. 

“If being in a relationship is making you break focus, maybe we should reinstate the ban,” he growled. “You aren’t going to take the group down because you can’t control your hormones.”

The rest of the members remained silent as Jaebum spoke, most eerily, the usually excited voice of Yugyeom. 

“Now, if you can’t balance the two, it’s time to break it off,” JB continued. “You’re young. You have the rest of eternity to find love. but only a small amount of time to work and make money.”

You had closed your eyes and leaned over, pulling open the front door quietly again. You opened your eyes before slamming it and clearing your throat, feigning your reentrance. “Hey guys! Can someone help me?”

You heard JB mutter a quick “Get it together” before several members appeared, sad smiles on their faces. You nodded knowingly, passing bag after bag to the group before Yugyeom appeared, a distinct puffiness characterizing his eyes. 

You couldn’t cause the group strife anymore. 

You didn’t blame his members. They were right. Your presence had been unintentionally sabotaging their own careers for some time now and you would no longer be responsible. 


You leaned over, grabbing a few pieces of clothing you recognized as your own and tossed them into your overnight bag. You were careful to avoid the rows and rows of BamBam’s shoes lined against the wall as you tiptoed about, straining your eyes in the darkness to locate the items you had accumulated in the bedroom over the past few months. You leaned over, grabbing a t-shirt you had originally thought was your own, but upon further inspection noticed was Yugyeom’s. You balled up the shirt, prepared to drop it on the floor, but you were unable to loosen your fingers. Instead, you lifted the thin fabric to your face and buried your nose deep into the cotton. Taking a deep breath in, you inhaled Yugyeom’s scent, a mix of clean laundry and facial cleansers. 

You struggled with your own will as you stood there, foolishly looming above your boyfriend while simultaneously smelling his clothing. You would laugh at yourself on any other occasion, but currently you felt as if you could cry. You had to do this if you truly cared about him. You couldn’t stand in the way of his career any longer. 

You tossed his t-shirt into your bag after a moment of struggling with your thoughts. He wouldn’t miss it. 

You continued to hurry around the room, tossing item after item into your bag. You hadn’t realized how many things you had left in the dorm until this very moment. With an overflowing bag and a chest heavy with emotion, you pulled open the bedroom door and sidestepped into the hallway. You ignored the glowing lights flooding from various bedrooms as you struggled by and plopped your bag by the front door as you began to dig for your shoes. It wasn’t a small task as you dug through piles of sneakers long since abandoned by the boys. 

Just as you set sight on your flats, you held your breath as you heard an unsteady pair of feet padding down the hall. 

“J-jagi?” Yugyeom’s sleepy voice growled. You looked up, wide eyed as he flipped on a small lamp near the doorway. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, not sure of where to direct your attention. Yugyeom was adorable, which broke your heart even more. His hair stuck up in matted and odd directions and a loose tank top hung from his tall frame. He looked like a small boy standing before you, woken up from a bad dream. 

“Are you going home?” he yawned, scrubbing a hand through his hair again. 

‘Ye-yeah,” you stuttered, adjusting your gaze to the floor so you wouldn’t have to look at him. 

“Did you forget something, I think Jinyoung has extra toothbrushes just in-”

“No Yugyeom,” you whispered, feeling tears begin to prickle your eyes. “I didn’t forget anything.”

“Then why are you leaving?” he asked, tilting his head innocently. 

“Why’d you wake up?” you countered gently. 

“I…um…I couldn’t sleep,” he hummed, his mouth forming an embarrassed smile. “I…I had a bad dream.” 

“What about?” you continued. You wanted to talk about anything but you leaving. He couldn’t know you weren’t coming back. 

You realized what a coward you were, but this was the only way. 

“Well…I had a dream that you had left,” he chuckled uneasily. “To be honest, my nightmares usually involve losing you.” 

“Why aren’t you two in bed?” a deep voice grumbled. You jumped, looking past Yugyeom to see JB standing behind him, arms crossed and face stoic. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you whispered, avoiding his eye contact as well. The last thing you wanted to do was anger the leader anymore than you had previously. 

“Then try,” he said simply. Yugyeom nodded, offering up little argument as he sleepily tottered back down the hallway and into his bedroom. You winced as you scooted your overnight bag toward the wall and dropped your shoes again. You shuffled toward JB, beginning to move past him when you felt his muscular hand grab your wrist. 

“Try,” he repeated with a small nod. He smiled for a moment, not necessarily directing it toward you. “I know we’re difficult…but he deserves for you to try.” 

“Jaebum,” you argued quietly, your eyes lingering up from the floor to find his face. His own eyes were kind as he watched over you. “But you-”

“I’m the biggest pain,” he nodded. “But the first one to let you know, he needs you. As much as we hate seeing him lovesick, we’d hate seeing him heartbroken even more. Just try.” 

You chuckled to yourself, nodding at Jaebum as well. “Just so we’re clear…”

“No, I don’t want you to leave,” JB hummed in monotone. “Now go to bed.” 

JB gently squeezed your wrist again before releasing it and pushing you gently back down the hallway. 

You eased into Yugyeom and BamBam’s bedroom, noting that Yugyeom had flipped on a small lamp near his bed as a night light. 

You walked as quietly as you could past BamBam who was still completely passed out on his mattress, snoring quietly along to the light music he had pulsing near his bed. You smiled as you looked from him to Yugyeom, hopping over the hard wood to climb into bed. 

You settled into his open arms, nested into his neck, and closed your eyes. 

“Why were you leaving?” Yugyeom cooed after a few moments of silence. You had hoped he would have dropped the question. 

“I…I forgot something,” you stuttered, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Mmm, then why did you decide to stay?” he whispered. 

You smiled to yourself, knowing Yugyeom couldn’t see your expression, but content with your answer nonetheless. “Because Jaebum let me know I had it after all.”

Originally posted by wangmins

anonymous asked:

In the game MC always needs saving by the RFA, which kind of annoys me because I'm not the sort of person who relies on other people's help. What if the tables were turned and MC was the one saving the RFA (and maybe the minor trio if ya want) from something, whether it's something really small like an insect or something really big, like a house fire? Btw your headcanons are great - and so are you!

This is a great idea!! I personally hate this kind of stereotype in games, so I loved writing this!! I hope it’s what you wanted??Also, thank you so much anon!!! you’re great too ! (⁄ ⁄^⁄ᗨ⁄^⁄ ⁄) -Green

Yoosung:

-so, we’re going tame for this guy

-because like.

-he LITERALLY CALLS YOU and does his sappy I love you and sCREAM s because of a cockroach . He SCrEAMS

-so this will be that kind of scenario

-you two are just chilling at your apartment, on the couch and cuddling. Lots of cute kisses

-ily Yoosung

-and suddenly.,,,,

-A SPIYDER crawls right along your shoulder

-Yoosung is. Dead. He screams in your ear and practically THROWS you off of him

-once you see why ur like “ew gross” and just squash it. With your bear hands.

-Yoosung can’t process it because for One: it’s so great you can kill bugs without crying how do you do that

-Two: EW YOU HAVE SPIDER GUTS ON YOU???

-you chase him around the house with your gross hands

-he hates you he loves u tho

Saeyoung:

-you’re being hunted by people who want to get seven (cheesy I know, bear with me)

-ok. Okooookookk. Ok.

-SEVEN, BABY. BABY WE GET IT

-you just want to protect Mc, I know. But like. mc can do perfectly fine on their own thank you

-when he straight up ignores you and says it’s for your safety and shit??? AGAIN??? You thought you solved this??

-you’re not okay with that.

-you’ve told him several times you can protect yourself, and he won’t listen!!!! He just keeps working!!!! What’s he working on anyway???!

-you are. Anger.

-so one morning you find Saeyoung asleep and you go into his computer

-you feel terrible for it but you can’t take it anymore ok

-you find out where his enemies are. And you just leave. You left only a note saying you could take care of yourself, packed a bag and took his car.

-by the time Saeyoung wakes up, he’s hella confused because it’s around night

-“ I slept in oh no ” dance ensues

-rushes to his computer, is about to HACK AWAY before he finds your note

-lol he’s crying

-he’s freaking out and calling your name, searching the whole house

-he can’t find you a n y w h e r e

-right when he’s about to leave and look for you, you come in through the door

-you look hella beat up but you’re

-you’re smiling???

-he runs to you and just cries in your shoulder. You have to calm him down and after that you take care of the injuries

-after this FINE little incident, Saeyoung tries to be less protective and so insistent to do things on his own.

-lots of cuddles afterwards

Jumin:

-DAAAAAANNNNGG

-you two were going out for dinner, just a normal night for insanely rich people and you were laughing, having fun

-you’re at an obscenely expensive restaurant ( because you deserve the best of the best )

-when there’s a gunshot suddenly

-someone shouts to get on the ground and you all hide under tables

-Jumin is. Not okay. You are in DANGEr. He has to DO SOMETHING

-before he can call his guards your on your feet

-OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MC WAIT

-you literally tACKLE THIS FUCKER TO THE GROUND

-you throw the gun out of reach and just start

-mauling this dude

-you’ve never been more attractive in Jumins eyes oh my Goodness

-someone was smart enough to call the police, and you have him knocked up and ready to go like a little present by the time the police get there

-both you and jumin don’t want to be invaded by reporters so you leave ASAP and jumin

-this little boy doesn’t know what to do because GOD YOU WERE HOT but also YOU COULD HAVE DIED

-he won’t let you out of his sights for the rest of the week

Jaehee:

-HELL YEAH POWER COUPLE

-She does not underestimate you at all. you both practice your butt kicking stuff together

-whenever a guy does something inappropriate to either of you, the two of you just laugh and then KICK HIS ASS TOGETHER

-You save each other from everything all the time.

-everything is mutual. Jaehee is literally the only one in the group that backs off and let’s you fight your own fights, just lets you know she’s got your BACK BABY

-i love my wife…

Zen:

-gah…. b r o ,,…

-this guy  i n h a l e s  stereotypes

-smokes them every morning before work

-”Honey, cook me dinner!!!” “Babe, I’ll do the heavy lifting”

- A  G  H

-you are prepared. the next chance you get, you’re going to SHOW HIM

-Show him you’re more than his little s/o. you have the p o w e r to kick his ass. just know every time he says a stereotype, you decided to let him live.

-so one day you two are out on a date, right?

-he takes you to a store you like and the two of you split up.

-Zen comes back, wanting to show you an item he think you would like, when he sees a guy stalking up on you

-A L L MEN ARE W O L V ES

-as soon as he sees this guy grope you, he’s about to ROCKET.

-but then you just. do a 180 turn and slap that dick across the face, making him fall on the floor.

-AND YOU CASUALLY JUST KICK HIM IN THE GUT AND WALK OVER AND GIVE HIM A KISS

-he is honestly. so impressed.

-never will he under estimate you again. that was amazing

V:

-so, we all know how V feels the responsibility to take everything in his own hands and have lots and lotsa secrets

-you don’t get too mad when he does this to you, because you’re trying to understand

-but when you learn he’s putting himself in danger to ‘protect’ you, you have a hard time.

-I think instead of saving him from something, because really his only threat was rika and lol she gone now

-you would bring it up with him

-you both would have a very very long chat. I don’t think V wouldn’t not believe you if you said you could easily protect yourself

-he trusts everything that comes out of your mouth 1000%

-oh V oh precious V,,, falls for the pranks too easily you don’t even know if it counts as fun

-It’s just hard for him to accept that he isn’t alone. He doesn’t need to do everything himself.

-Oh V.

Saeran:

-oh BOY was this fun to write

-it was the worst thing ever don’t make me do this ever again I cried

-MAJOR ANGST UP AHEAD LOLOLOL

-after the Mint Eye, it took Saeran a long. long time to even think about a relationship. which is completely reasonable.

-And let’s face it, Saeran is obviously not the perfect partner.

-none of the RFA members are, they all need help please help them

-The only thing that threatened you in your relationship was Saeran.

-he would randomly get triggered and start screaming and throwing items

-you both had been together long enough to learn how to deal with these situations, but he had caught you off guard one day.

-you were coming into the living room with some healthy snacks, for both Saeyoung and Saeran because. These kids need a mom

-When you walked in Saeran was pinning Saeyoung to the ground and choking him

-and of course Saeyoung wasn’t fighting back. he was most likely thinking he deserved this somehow.

-you quickly dropped everything in your hands and dashed towards him

-you threw him off of Saeyoung, and you tried to get Saeyoung to run out of the room because he wasn’t a good help during these moments of PTSD for Saeran

-but he was just. frozen on the ground.

-Saeran tried to attack him again and you had to smack the vase he somehow got out of his hand, making it shatter on the floor.

-he decides to attack you after that and suddenly the both of you are rolling around on the floor, scratching and biting

-finally you muster up your strength and push him off of you, running to the next room

-he follows you

-you’re in Saeran’s room now and you throw him onto the bed

-you’re manhandling him into a blanket burrito, throwing his limbs where you want them to be as he tries to hit and bite you

-you get him trapped in the blanket and you make him lie down, and you throw yourself on top of him

-it takes him hours to calm down, but eventually he does

-it takes him days to get near you again. he feels disgusting. he feels wrong. he feels like d y i n g. every time he sees you he thinks how he hurt you

-you have to convince him as the days go by you weren’t severally hurt and you would always be there. you can protect yourself, even if it was from him. you can save yourself and you can save him.

-you can save him.

jim/bones, domesticity style:

big spoon/little spoon: Jim is what you might call an aggressive sleeper, which is to say that he flails and rolls and kicks in his sleep, which is to say that Bones has spent more than one morning yelling bitter complaints at the bathroom door while he heals the bruises Jim left in the night. When they first started sleeping together, Jim was the big spoon at his own insistence, wrapping himself around Bones before falling asleep with a possessive sort of finality that made Bones snort with laughter; he was not laughing hours later, when he awoke to the sensation of biting through his own lip because Jim had smacked the bottom of his chin in trying to roll away. There was trial and error for awhile, because Jim refused to be sedated, and Bones, for all his grumbling, refused to give up on actually sleeping with Jim; these days, Bones is the big spoon in a big way, wrapping Jim up firmly enough that he can’t lash out. They both bitch about it – Jim says Bones conducts too much heat to be human and must be concealing alien heritage, and Bones says he’s a doctor, not a straightjacket – but neither one of them actually minds. It’s more or less solved the problem. 

favorite non-sexual activity: People (well, okay, sentient being) watching. It’s a holdover from Academy; on that shuttle ride, the first time they met, Jim honestly did think Bones was going to throw up on him. In trying to avoid that outcome, he started asking Bones questions, and when it became apparent that personal questions made the guy depressed, neurotic, angry, or all three, Jim cast his net wider, pointing at random cadets and going, “So, what’s that one’s deal?” Bones’s answers turned out to be hilarious, ridiculous, and ridiculously hilarious, for all the neurotic streak didn’t prove to be shrinkable and the anger wasn’t so much a streak as a state of being. They spent most of that ride arguing about their totally unfounded opinions of people to whom they’d never spoken, snickering and emptying Bones’s flask and trying to look innocent when people cast them dirty looks, and then… well. Then they were doing the same thing at bars at the end of a long week, and over lunches in the mess, and via comms in the few classes they shared. They just sort of never stopped; it’s never stopped being fun. 

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What a puzzle

Originally posted by wizardfrenchfries

He found his father-in-law in the sitting room that overlooked the rose garden and the fountain, where the western wall was only a thousand panes of polished glass. The sun was setting and the room was filled with the rich, amber sunlight of a late summer evening and the paler flickers from the hearth where drift-wood burned. Belle preferred the strangely shaped, salt-rimed wood to the traditional oak and pine for the unusual dancing color of the flames, the unpredictable shower of silver sparks, the fineness of the ash left in the hearth. Maurice was smoking a pipe and the smoke curled like twilight coming into the room, scenting the room with its sweetness.

“Maurice, I need to talk to you,” Adam began, running his hand through his hair half-distracted, marveling a little at how human it felt.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out,” Maurice said, puffing a little on the pipe, then setting it aside. “Frankly, I’m rather impressed with how quickly you have understood. I have perhaps underestimated you,” he said calmly, with an appraising amusement Adam had never been subjected to before. The older man made a small gesture of encouragement.

“It’s Belle. She’s…” Adam trailed off, searching himself for the correct word, the right collection of words that would explain it.

“She’s terrifying,” her father said plainly. “She’s always been this way, you know. Imagine how it was for me, I could hardly speak of it, of her, to anyone else. And such a little girl, no one would have believed me.”

“I thought she just liked to read. I thought she was very bright, self-taught– I thought,” Adam said. Maurice interrupted.

“You thought you could keep up with her. That it would be easy to do so, no?”

“I found her reading Vitruvius and Taccola, di Giorgio in the library. I didn’t know I owned the books, but I do. We do. I hardly knew who they were but she explained. I thought she would be reading Marlowe or Sidney or Marie de France, getting drunk on poetry, but she is designing a new mill and a bridge for Villeneuve now!” Adam exclaimed.

“When she was four, she built herself an abacus from the clock-work gears she found in my workshop. She learned German from the Belgian woman who made the best rolls in town when we were in Bergues, Latin from the priest,” Maurice paused. “I always wished there was an academy for her to attend, a tutor I could hire but there was no school which would take her, no teacher I could afford. Even to buy her a book was beyond me.”

“Does she love me only for my library?” Adam asked, aware he sounded overly dramatic, the echo of the self he had been before Belle, before the Beast, when he had been the prince and never gainsaid by anyone. Maurice just laughed.

“Of course not, you young fool. She is my daughter, but I’m not blind—anyone can see how she looks at you. But you must see her, understand her, if you want to make her happy—and it may not be easy. She’s not an easy woman, Belle, even if she might seem that way,” Maurice said.

“Go on,” Adam said. He had not yet learned enough humility to ask for the guidance he needed but if it was being offered, as Maurice was doing…

“She read all the time because as odd as it was, the villagers could understand it. There have been women who loved God’s word before and this is France, we have had our troubadours, our lays, our Heloise to Abelard. They could not understand a woman who was an engineer, who could rebuild their crumbling bridge, their windmills, re-design a city to resist the plague. To be fair, I’m not sure where she might go that the people would know what to make of her. But you, you have been several selves already, have been transformed and taught, however bluntly, by Madame Agathe, to see within and to accept. You might be the making of her,” Maurice said, pausing. “And I should like to see it. Her mother was much the same and I only painted her. Don’t do that.”

“I haven’t the skill or the inclination,” Adam replied, considering what a lovely model Belle would make, except that the static representation could never capture her essential quality of action, her mind, her eye, her hand all vital and primed to observe and change what was around her.

“Devote your talents to other endeavors, then. Buy her more books, yes, but also a surveyor’s kit, some broken clocks, a quantity of charcoal and paper, and if there is an opportunity for you to consult an architect, invite the man to dinner,” Maurice said. “You’re lucky,” he added. “You may invite whatever guests will please her and not worry that she will prepare the meal. She has many gifts, but cooking bores her. The kitchen doesn’t take such inattention lightly.”

“No, I gather from Mrs. Potts it does not. Have you any other wisdom to impart?” Adam answered.

“Nothing you cannot divine for yourself. You are intelligent enough, even if you are not her equal. Don’t let her know it and don’t forget it. Now, what vintage will we share tonight? A Burgundy? I thought I smelled some capon…”

Lucifer imagines - The Devil’s all around you Part 1

Originally posted by mooseleys

A/N - I actually came up with this idea earlier today so I hope you like it. Just another supernatural series cause why not? ‘Seven Devils’ by Florence and the machine inspired this fic.

Summary: When there’s a way to transfer Lucifer’s damage from Sam to Cas. Surely, there’s a way to transfer that same damage from Cas to you. When you take the damage from Castiel and Lucifer wriggles his way through your mind, can you handle it? What if things get too personal or just simply go wrong? You knew the risks but you didn’t care. If it will help the boys, you’ll just about do anything.

LuciferXreader fic. AU: Lucifer is actually in your head, he isn’t a hallucination. 

Italics is Luci speaking inside your head

Word count: 2,198

Warnings: Some Destiel, none really.

It’d been years since you met the Winchesters, you’d been through hell and back with those two, sometimes literally. You were family and that’s what mattered. Family to the three of you always seemed to shrink and grow, Cas joined, Bobby left. The cycle went on and somehow you were still there. You had no idea how. 

For a while you thought you were going to permanently lose Sam. Lucifer was in his head, hallucinations, things only he could see. The devil was torturing Sam through sleep deprivation. It got dangerously close to pure insanity, Sam couldn’t tell what was there and what wasn’t. You and Dean genuinely thought Sam would be a few cards short of a deck. Until Cas thought of a way to help Sam. Cas could shift the damage done from Sam to himself. 

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Zelda’s Log #3.5: The Reckless Patient

A/N: New chapter, as promised. Credits for the main idea to @mewringo13 (thank you!). I’m already pretty much done writing the next chapter, so it may come sooner than expected :)

—–

‘You knew it was a bad idea to check on the roof at night’, Zelda scolded a thoroughly soaked Link while she applied white chuchu jelly on her partner’s ankle, dressed in her nightie. ‘You are still too reckless’.

‘But there was a leak on the roof!, he complained as he fidgeted on the chair, 'I had to fix it!’

'At three in the morning, while it rained. Great’, she frowned, cleaning the goo from her hands with a cloth. 'You could have waited for Mr. Bolson ​to fix it in the morning’.

'No way! It was just a misplaced shingle!’ he complained while Zelda wrapped a bandage on the injured ankle, disapproving look all over her face, ‘And it’s not about money… you know how long Bolson and Karson stayed on my lawn “taking a break”? Months. I wasn’t bothered, until I wanted to take you here, so I had to tell them I was bringing my girlfriend to live with me, so we could have actual privacy’.

'That’s really sweet’, Zelda patted the bandaged foot, 'but it doesn’t exempt you from your recklessness. Let me help you go upstairs’.

He supported himself on her to go upstairs, landing on their bed. Once he changed back -with Zelda’s aid - into his pajamas, they quickly fell asleep.

Link woke up to an empty bed. On the nightstand was a note and a tray with food.


Link, I went shopping and running errands. I’ll also go to the Lab and tell Purah about what happened in Zora’s Domain. Take a good rest. - Zelda

P.S. The food are last night’s leftovers. I’ll cook for lunch and dinner.


Zelda.

Cooking.

Those words meant anything could happen, for she would take such a mundane activity as experimentally​ as possible, and as her assistant, he had to help her… or be her test subject. Several images of highly questionable concoctions  - with ranging edibility - crossed his mind.

This was worse than going after a guardian without proper weapons. He laid in bed, looking at the ceiling, hoping for the best. After all, this was his fault.

I must apologize for last night’s stupidity. I should be taking care of her, not the other way.

Meanwhile, Zelda had left the lab, triumphant after giving Purah the news of the new champion, and had already shopped or gathered the ingredients to cook.

'Look who has a picture of Purah snap-ping o-out’, she said in a singsong, emphasizing the bad pun, as she climbed the stairs to show Link the image.

He had fallen asleep, to her surprise.


10.57 a.m. Having Link bedridden gives me the chance to acquire new skills, such as cooking. I hope to do a decent job, since he is quite the chef.

Back to the core subject, Purah​ was very surprised at the news of Sidon becoming Ruta’s new master. After recovering from the initial shock, she realized it wasn’t such a far-fetched possibility, and it would be very likely the others stopped working too sooner or later, for they would need new champions. I wonder if the process with the rest will be as swift as it was with the Zoras.

She also agreed with Robbie’s idea of dismantling all guardians, not only because any active ones pose a threat to civilians, but also to fully understand their workings, and use their technology to improve the quality of life of Hyrule’s citizens.

Once Link gets better, we will continue our journey. Now I shall try my best to make tasty meals! I wonder if any of his armor sets improves cooking skills… maybe the flamebreaker one? Gorons make great cooking spices, after all.

Link awoke to clanking sounds. They came from outside. He saw from the bedroom window Zelda petting and feeding the horses. Perfectly normal.

Wait…

Was she wearing the flamebreaker​ suit?!

His heart nearly stopped for a second.

When Link tried to look again​, she was out of sight.

Zelda is smart and resourceful, perfectly capable of fending for herself. Be calm. She held back the worst enemy possible for so long…cooking should be child’s play.

Underestimating her is an insult.

This reflection made him more at ease, so he decided to pick a book from a selection Zelda had left for him on the nightstand. As he distracted himself reading eagerly through the pages of a mythology book, Zelda entered the house, proud and triumphant, carrying a steaming pot in her hands.

'I made rice and beef for lunch and dinner, with veggies!’

Zelda helped him go to the first floor, so they could have lunch. The plates were wiped out of any food in minutes.

‘Your meal was really tasty, Zelda!’, he complimented her, considering serving himself seconds, 'Not bad at all for your first try’.

‘Thank you, dear’, she smiled cheerfully. 'I asked for help, actually’.

'I assume it was not Purah’, he guessed with a furrowed brow.

'Of course not’. Both coincided the Sheikah scientist in charge of a cooking pot would be a disaster. 'It was Ms. Uma, she is a really good teacher, and well versed in the stories of yore’.

'For your face I can see you had fun’. His heart filled with joy at her merry expression.

'I did’, she reassured him. 'I should check on your bandage, shall we?’

Zelda gathered some bandages, sat on the floor, and started checking his ankle. The swelling had reduced considerably.

'I am testing on you a salve I just made with Cool Safflina, white Chuchu jelly, and Armoranth’, she applied the ointment from a small pot, 'It should help with the swelling and ease the pain’.

‘Thank you’, he kissed her forehead, ‘for caring about this reckless man you live with, and I’m sorry for being an ass’.

'Apology accepted. I take care of you with pleasure, I couldn’t stand to lose you again’, she rested her head on his thigh for a moment, ‘lest to a bloody shingle’.

Her comment elicited a small chuckle and a pat on the head from him. She resumed her nursing labor, wrapping the new bandage on Link’s ankle.

‘I’ll try to be more careful’, he let her know, ‘I love you’.

She gave him a tender smile, and bright golden light surrounded them. Link felt a warmth spread to the injured area, and then, no more pain. No bruising, no swelling.

Zelda looked at her hands.

‘It seems… I healed you?’, she was incredulous at the event. She undid the bandage to check the vanished wound.

'You did, Zelda’, Link confirmed, as surprised as her.

‘The Goddesses have not given up on me, then’.

5:21 p.m. I have been blessed today by the Goddesses with the gift of healing. Maybe it was one of the powers I still had dormant inside me. The Golden Three surely have mysterious ways.

I think I need time to process things, in order to realize how to put my newfound power to good use, and how to trigger it at will (Mipha said she used to think about something to help her focus). After all, it can be just an isolated event.

Link thought adequate to inflict harm on himself to see if my power was still active. I convinced him reminding him of the promise he just had made of being more sensible and less of an ass.

Another newfound skill I obtained today is cooking. Ms. Uma kindly taught me the basics, after a disastrous first try on my own at the cooking pot outside the house. I tried to make seared meat and mushroom skewers, with the aid of the great flameblade to hasten the process. I wore the fireproof suit Link owns - safety first.

Despite my best effort, instead of juicy meat and crispy mushrooms, I obtained chunks of coal and burning grass. I even scared our horses. On the contrary, Link proved to be quite a heavy sleeper. So, after cleaning up the wreckage and putting the flameblade back on its place - to never ever put my hands on it again - I calmed and fed the horses, took off the flamebreaker suit, and departed to the communal cook. Recklessness is a no-no in cooking, as I learned today.

Fortunately, I had rendered useless a tiny amount of food - I had more than enough ingredients, considering my dearest Link’s appetite - so I arrived home victorious, carrying food made by myself. I earned praise from Link, but I think I have a long road ahead to improve my skill.

Tomorrow we depart to Kakariko Village. I’m so excited to see Impa again! I hope she doesn’t mind our delay.

BNHA: Riddles in the Heart, 3/3

Pairing: Tododeku

Summary:  The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye.

Of course, there’s only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

(Royalty/Fantasy AU)

AO3

Act III: None Shall Sleep


The tunnel led out of an old shed at the edge of the square. Deku nudged the door carefully ajar, checked for guards, and finally slipped back out into the open. Tossing the torch into the fountain, he scanned the square until at last he spotted the familiar figures of his companions, clustered together and watching the palace gates.

He tried not to run too quickly, not wanting to look suspicious or draw attention to himself, and finally managed to sidle close enough to sprint the rest of the way under the cover of darkness.

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The Labyrinth Chapter 17

Genre: Gang AU/ High School AU
Pairing: Reader/Jimin
Length: 2.1k
Summary: Finding an injured boy collapsing in front of your house, you decide to help him, only to find out he’s associated with some underground business. After that fateful night, you surprisingly find him in the new class you had just transferred into.

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17 18

Originally posted by bts-we-are-bulletproof

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Conquer You - Chapter 1

I managed to finish the first chapter. I have a feeling it’s only the first of many to come. Only if you guys like it of course.

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Thyra still couldn’t believe that she was back here. It had been almost ten years, but now she was home again, although this town was now barely recognizable as her home. It had grown so much and obviously become much richer as well. She wandered across the crowded market, amazed by how big it was. Merchants from all over the country had gathered here, offering food, textiles, jewelry and so much more. As a child she had often played between the booths and stolen sweets on a dare. She didn’t know how to feel about being back in Kattegat. This place brought back so many distant memories and feelings. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as two riders caught her attention. They had almost reached the town but they were still riding fast. Maybe it meant nothing but she was still alarmed.

“Who are they?” She asked an old man who was selling furs and gestured into the direction of the two riders.

The man squinted against the sunlight. “It’s the princes.”

Without another word, Thyra took off running. Ubbe and Sigurd coming back surely meant trouble. She reached the great hall and slipped through a back door. She made her way to the throne and Lagertha raised an eyebrow at her obvious hurry. But before Thyra could open her mouth to explain, the door flew open and the two princes strode in. She eyed them curiously. She had wanted to catch a glimpse on them while they were in Hedeby, but Lagertha had given her the task to make sure that the warriors were ready to march to Kattegat before dawn.  She had known them as children but they were undoubtably men now.

“Where is out mother?” One of them demanded to know. Thyra supposed it was the older one, Ubbe.

“She is dead, Ubbe. I killed her.” Lagertha said, staying completely calm.

Although they must have expected something like that, Thyra could see the shock on their faces and couldn’t help but feel bad for them. She knew how it felt to lose a parent.

“Why?” Ubbe asked, his voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

The queen answered something but although she was standing right next to the throne Thyra felt as if the words were coming from far away. Memories had stared to flash before her eyes, memories of her own mother. She tried to blink them away but it didn’t work.

Her mother’s face was pale and covered with sweat. Thyra felt incredibly scared and helpless while she held her hand, but there was nothing else she could do. The door was opened and Lagertha entered to room, crouching down next to her. She gave Thyra a smile but her eyes were clouded with worry. “Promise me to care of my daughter.” Mother whispered and weakly reached for the other woman’s hand. “Promise me, Lagertha.” Lagertha nodded sadly and placed her other hand on Thyra’s shoulder. “I promise.” Her mother tried to smile but only looked like a painful grimace. Then she closed her eyes and her features softened.

Thyra angrily shook her head. This was not the time to become overwhelmed by her feelings. She came back to reality just in time to see Ubbe pull his axe from his belt and push his brother away from him. He turned and moved towards the queen. One of her guards stepped between them immediately. Ubbe let him come close, then turned to the side and in the same fluid motion buried the axe in the man’s hip. It wasn’t a deadly wound but the guard went to the ground. The next one followed him just seconds later. Thyra curiously watched what was happening in front of her. She could see that the prince was a skilled warrior, his movements were forceful and precise and the warrior inside her was eager to test her skills against him. Her hand went to the handle of her sword, but Lagertha stopped her with a gesture.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Thyra grit her teeth but obeyed.

Ubbe was now stopped by several guards forming a shieldwall. Although he fought bravely and had already sent many warriors to the ground, it seemed to Thyra as if he was holding back, as if he did not want to actually kill anyone. Now that he had to face half a dozen opponents at once, it didn’t take long until they had him pinned to the ground and disarmed. He growled at Lagertha as she ordered the guards to bring him and his brother into a guarded hut. Thyra knew that they would be enemies but she couldn’t help but admire his courage.


Everyone was quiet at the dinner table. Although she hadn’t said anything about it and probably never would, Thyra knew that Lagertha was still shaken by Ubbe’s reaction. She had seen it in her eyes when the guards had lead the princes away. Thyra knew that Lagertha had done what she thought she had to and she would never doubt her queen’s decisions but she wondered if it had been the right move, not for Kattegat but for Lagertha. It surely wasn’t easy for her to be hated by the sons of Ragnar. They were after all the sons of the man she had loved, or still loved as some said.

“I don’t think Sigurd will cause us any trouble.” Astrid finally broke the silence.

“How do you know?” Thyra asked.

“I thought it would be helpful to find out a little more about them, so I talked to the slave girl who brings them their food.”

“You use her to spy on them?”

“If we want to keep control over the town, we have to do more than to play around with swords and axes, Thyra.” Astrid said in an important tone.

“You think that’s want I do all day? Play around?” Thyra hissed, feeling a rush of anger.

“Enough.” Lagertha interrupted, her voice sharp. “I’m tired of you two constantly being at each other’s throat.”

Thyra’s relationship with Astrid had always been a difficult one. The other woman was a couple of years older than her and even though she shared the bed with Lagertha, the queen had made Thyra her second in command, to much of Astrid’s dislike.

“We have to be careful with this information until we know if that slave girl is trustworthy.” Lagertha continued. “Did she tell you anything else?”

Astrid nodded. “Ubbe is still angry but Sigurd is calming him down. It looks like Sigurd’s relationship with his mother has not been the best one. I don’t think these two are a big thread right now, but Sigurd seems to be sure that Ivar will try to kill you. If he ever comes back that is.”

“Ivar?” Thrya was surprised. She had known the youngest son of Ragnar as a child. He had always been angry and cruel and she had even witnessed him killing another child once but she had never thought of the crippled prince as a real threat for them.

Astrid shrugged. “That’s what his brothers seem to believe, but I think we don’t have worry much about a cripple.”

“We should not underestimate him.” Lagertha decided. “From what I hear he knows how to use a weapon and is feared by many.”

Thyra was surprised by the queen’s words. She remembered Ivar as a selfish little brat who had always been under his mother’s wing. But it also made her curious to see what had become of him when he was now feared for his fighting skills.


A couple of days later everyone had gathered in the great hall. Thyra proudly stood next to the throne while Lagertha talked about her plans to build fortifications around the town. As the queen had ended her speech, everyone in the room stared to cheer, almost everyone. Ubbe and Sigurd were standing in the front row, arms crossed and staring up angrily at Lagertha. They still hadn’t accepted that she was their ruler now. Thyra wondered if it had been wise to allow them to move around the town freely. She had made sure that they were always followed by at least two shieldmaiden but now she wasn’t sure if that was enough. She got distracted from her thoughts when all of a sudden the crowd parted. She waited curiously and wondered what was about to happen.  Before she could see him, she heard him. It could only be Ivar. He dragged himself towards the throne, using small pikes to pull himself forward.

Thyra had heard that he had come back from England but she hadn’t met him yet. She had to admit that she was impressed with what she saw. Although he had to drag himself cross the floor, his movements were powerful and had a certain grace to them. His face was a mask of hate and his whole body seemed to be radiating a dark and threating atmosphere. And then there was his choice of weapons. These small pikes were different from a sword or an axe. With them you had to get real close to your opponent. They were made for killing on the shortest possible distance. All that combined made the prince a formidable sight. The spoiled little brat had grown into a handsome man, Thyra had to give him that.

“Welcome Ivar.” Lagertha greeted him as soon as he had pulled himself up on a stool.

“I’ve come here for justice.” He exclaimed boldly. “Everyone knows that you’ve killed my mother for no reason, except ambition. Therefore I demand justice.”

Ubbe stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder to calm him down. But Ivar just shook it off. “Don’t touch me, coward.” He hissed.

Ubbe stepped away from him and the look of defeat on his face almost caused Thyra to smile. As Ivar turned back to Lagertha, she rose from her throne and went to stand in front of him.

“He’s not a coward.” She said. Her voice was sympathetic as she placed her hand on the young man’s shoulder in a motherly gesture. “But maybe he understands some things that you don’t.”

Thyra could see Ivar’s eyes darken with even more fury than before. “I understand everything perfectly. You murdered my mother in cold blood. I want revenge!” The queen pulled back her hand as if she had burnt it. “I challenge you to single combat!” Ivar continued, his voice clear and confident.

A murmur went through the crowd. Thyra’s fascination for the prince grew with every second. His impudence seemed to know no limits. How did he think this would work? Did he want to fight her sitting on a stool? Thyra knew well enough that fast movement was of great importance in sword fighting. Ivar would not even be able to take a step back when needed and Lagertha’s combat skills were almost legendary. And still there he was, confidence written all over his face. Was he really as good as he thought or just stupid?

“I refuse.” She heard Lagertha say.

For a second Thyra saw the surprise in Ivar’s eyes but then he fixated the queen with a dark glare. “You can’t refuse.”

“I refuse to fight you.” Lagertha repeated, raising her voice for everyone to hear.

“Why? Hmm?” Ivar wanted to know.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

An amused, yet evil grin spread on Ivar’s face. “Who says you would kill me?”

“I do.” The queen stated.

His smile did not fade as he nodded slowly. “Alright. Don’t fight me then. I don’t care just as long as you know that one day I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed.”

A shiver went down Thyra’s spine at his words. She had no doubt he had meant every word he’d said and that he intended to act on them.

Ivar shot Lagertha one last threatening glare and turned to leave as his eyes met Thyra’s. He froze in mid-movement and they stared at each other. Thyra felt these incredible blue eyes bore into her and couldn’t help but stare back, completely caught. Beneath the anger that was still shining in his eyes there was something else now. Was it curiosity? Before she was able to define it any further, Ivar broke the contact and left the room without looking back.

Lagertha sat back on her throne, clearly shaken despite of her confident words and Thyra knew she had been mistaken. Ivar was dangerous, dangerous in a way his brothers never would be.