in spite of this week i am content in the now

I Got You On My Mind [Part 4]

Jungkook Soulmate AU (Angst)

[Part One] | Previous Part | Part Four | Next Part

Summary: After your memory loss, adjusting back to normal life has been difficult. Luckily, Jungkook is always there for you. Still, something seems off about him, and you just can’t understand why.

Word count: 2k words

Originally posted by jungxook

“Oh yeah, I’m being discharged tomorrow,” you told Jungkook, who was pushing your wheelchair through the hospital. He insisted that you needed a change of scenery. “My parents are going to pick me up and drive me back to my apartment.”

“I-I guess it’s too early for the ‘meet the parents’ thing, right?” Jungkook stammered, uncharacteristically nervous. “Unless you want me to. Like, I don’t mind if–”

“Chill, Jungkook,” you laughed, cutting his off his rambling. “I think they’re more worried about my brain damage than any soulmate business.”

“The doctors said you’ll recover your memories though, right?” Jungkook asked, worry lining his words. “Your memory loss won’t be permanent or recurring?”

“They said my memories will come back slowly,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “But most of the time, the memories will have to be triggered by something. They also told me I might have short-term memory issues for the next little while.”

“That seriously sucks,” Jungkook said. “If you need any help with anything, just let me know. I don’t really know how I’d be useful, but don’t hesitate.”

“We’re not in the same department,” you snorted, turning to peer up at your soulmate who was both familiar and foreign in this instant. “This is gonna make school so difficult. I’ve forgotten nearly three months worth of content!”

“Maybe take the semester off?” Jungkook suggested. “Amnesia is a pretty valid reason. Have you talked at all to the university?”

“No,” you groaned, sinking into the wheelchair. “I don’t want to think about responsibilities right now. Just marvelling in the fact I’m still alive and kicking.”

A silence fell between you and Jungkook as he pushed you through a more crowded area of the hospital. You noticed a few younger visitors visibly gape at Jungkook, then glare at you jealously as you rolled by.

You agreed with them–how was Jungkook so damn good-looking? You hit the soulmate jackpot, for sure. Still, even if he looked different, you didn’t doubt that you would like him just the same.

“You know, it’s pretty crazy,” you blurted out unthinkingly. “I’ve been talking to you my entire life, and I always thought meeting you would feel like meeting an old friend. But honestly, you’re a total mystery to me right now. Maybe it’s because of the memory loss, or maybe other people feel this way, too.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Jungkook responded quietly, trying to figure out how to express his thoughts properly. “It’s just…we have an idea of who our soulmate is in our heads. When they’re not exactly that person, it’s kind of confusing.”

“And I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff we still don’t know about each other,” you agreed. “Honestly, I tried to make myself seem a lot better than I am.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jungkook laughed, though it sounded a bit off. You brushed it off as embarrassment. “Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

You turned your head and looked up into Jungkook’s eyes. “You couldn’t have disappointed me Jungkook, really. I’m just happy to finally meet you,” you replied, giving him a small smile. “And it’s kinda paradoxical, isn’t it? Disliking your own soulmate. Weren’t we, like, made to like each other?”

“I guess,” Jungkook said, staring ahead unwaveringly. He pushed you down another hallway, which led to the cafeteria. You only knew because of the wafting smell of hearty food was growing stronger by the second. “But nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Don’t I know it,” you sighed, laughing a little in spite of yourself. You turned the corner into the bustling cafeteria, the noise of the crowds deafening compared to the near-silent, depressing halls of the hospital.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Jungkook asked, the heaviness of your conversation vanishing before you could even blink. “I was going to grab something for myself, too.”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you agreed. Out of habit, you reached down to pat your pockets for your wallet. “Oh shit, I don’t have any money on me. Don’t worry about it, then.”

“It’s cool, it’ll be my treat,” Jungkook said. When you turned to look at him, he was giving you a lopsided smile.

“Then, is this our first date?” you asked cheekily, delighting in the way Jungkook’s cheek burned. You never expected that a guy like Jungkook, with this terrible fuckboy persona, would be so easily flustered.

“If you want it to be, sure,” Jungkook answered, coughing into his hand awkwardly. You just laughed, and Jungkook pushed you forward wordlessly.


Life at home after getting discharged made staying in the hospital seem like an amusement park. After being sentenced to bedrest by your parents–and having Jieun enforce it with an iron fist–you spent your days bored out of your mind.

In only one week, you had binge-watched three shows, reread all of your course notes (and they didn’t help you remember anything), and read more manga that you had ever read before in your entire life.

You were positively itching to get outside and do something, but what bothered you the most was that you hadn’t talked to Jungkook since your “first date.” When you had gotten home, you jumped to charge your dead phone, which miraculously hadn’t been destroyed in the accident. But when the device finally charged, you soon realized that you had no way of contacting Jungkook.

For some reason, his phone number wasn’t saved in your contacts. Even though Jungkook had said you had met before, apparently you hadn’t exchanged numbers. That seemed very strange to you.

When you asked Jieun about it, she just shrugged the question off. She said your situation was a bit complicated, but that she’d have to leave it up to you and Jungkook. But Jieun did say that she would mention it to him when she saw him at school next.

Sighing, you reached for your phone beside you. It was still early in the morning. Time had lost all meaning to you, since you spent every moment of the day trapped in your apartment. A bit bitterly, you watched your friends’ Snapchat stories and longed to return to normal daily life.

Suddenly, your phone began buzzing. You dropped it in surprise, and it landed on your nose. The impact stung, and you cursed, reaching clumsily for the phone. You saw an unflattering picture of Jieun illuminate the screen. Eventually, you were able to answer.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, rubbing your hand against your sore nose.

“Y/N, I’m so fucking stupid!” Jieun practically screamed. Wincing, you held your phone away from your ear. “I know you shouldn’t be moving around, but I need you to come to the university right now. I’m working on a group project that’s due in two hours and a bunch of our files got corrupted. I have some stuff backed up on my laptop, which I left at home like an idiot!”

“Don’t worry, I can bring it to you,” you reassured quickly. “I won’t fall into traffic on the way there. It’s like a ten minute walk, so don’t worry.”

“Just don’t strain yourself, okay?” Jieun ordered, the panic still evident in her voice. “Don’t go to quickly and look both ways!”

“Hey, only I can make fun of myself,” you quipped, pulling yourself out from underneath the covers. “I’ll be over soon, I just need to get dressed.”

“Okay, see you soon. Thank you so much, Y/N,” Jieun said, and the both of you said your goodbyes before you disconnected the call.

You glanced down at your pyjama bottoms and at the thick cast over your right leg. Changing pants would be a battle for another day. Unsteadily, you stood up and balanced your weight on your unbroken leg. You reached for the crutches leaning against the wall beside you and tucked them underneath your arms.

As quickly as you could (which was not very quick), you had thrown on a clean shirt and a jacket. Your hair was a mess, so you shoved on a beanie to disguise the tangled frizz. With Jieun’s securely laptop in your backpack, you began the trek to school. Suddenly, the journey seemed incredibly long.


When you finally arrived on campus, you were panting lightly and sweating. You made your way into the music building, relatively unfamiliar with its layout. You detached yourself from one of your crutches and reached into your pocket for your phone. Quickly you sent Jieun a text letting you know you were here.

There were a few benches in the foyer, so once you hobbled over to them, you set your bag down lightly and placed your crutches against the benches. Flopping down, you discreetly tried to massage your sore armpits.

But you were glad to finally be out of the apartment. The fresh air made you feel infinitely better.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice called. Your head whipped around in the direction of the voice. Jungkook a few meters away from you, looking as dark and intimidating as ever. His wide-eyed expression kind of ruined the image though. “What are you doing here?”

“Jieun forgot her laptop at home,” you replied, pointing to the backpack at your feet, as Jungkook made his way toward you.

“Shouldn’t you be at home?” he questioned, stopping when he was standing in front of you. You craned your neck to at him properly. “Is it okay for you to be walking around so soon?”

“Please, don’t get started on that,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “My parents and Jieun are unbearable. I’ve been lying in bed doing nothing all week.”

“You know, that honestly sounds like heaven,” Jungkook joked. “I’m so swamped right now. I haven’t slept in days.”

You inspected Jungkook more closely. His eyes were ringed by purplish dark circles, but they were hardly noticeable. How unfair–he always looked good.

“Hey, why haven’t you talked to me all week?” you asked suddenly, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook suspiciously.

“I was meaning to call or text or something, but I don’t have your number,” Jungkook answered sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t know how to ask for it, since you haven’t been around campus lately.”

“Why’s that, though?” you continued, glancing down at your feet. “I mean–you said we met before. Why didn’t we keep in contact?”

“W-well, we did meet, but it wasn’t a proper conversation,” Jungkook explained stutteringly. “It wasn’t under the most normal circumstances, but–”

“Y/N!” Jieun’s loud voice suddenly interrupted. She burst into the foyer, looking absolutely frazzled. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were bloodshot, and you were pretty sure there were coffee stains on her shirt. “Thank god!”

Your friend ran over to you and practically dove for your backpack. She grabbed her laptop and hugged it tightly against her chest.

“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I made you come all the way here,” Jieun cried, sounding frantic still. “Are you okay? Sore anywhere? Go home right away, okay? You need to rest. And please don’t tell your parents!”

“Oh my god, I’m fine Jieun,” you whined. “I think I can handle walking for, like, two minutes.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen!” Jieun insisted, stomping her foot childishly. “We’re speeding up the recovery process by being extra careful!”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Go work on your project and try not to fail.”

“I will,” Jieun replied. “I’ll bring dinner on my way home.” She turned, only spotting Jungkook for the first time. Her eyes narrowed and she frowned slightly. “Jungkook.”

“Jieun,” he replied, just as shortly.

You looked between the two of them, wondering why there was so much tension. It looked like they were having a silent conversation, and you hated not knowing what was going on. You had the suspicion they were hiding something from you–but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what, exactly.

Eventually, Jieun just nodded and strode away, leaving Jungkook with a tight expression. Visibly, you could see Jungkook try to shake away the tension, his jaw unclenching. When he turned back to you, his features were schooled.

“Give me your phone,” Jungkook said, reaching out his hand and smiling softly. “I’ll add my number.”

- Girl in Luv

Okay, so this one was a bit filler-y. Originally I had planned to make this one angsty too, but I figured you guys could use the respite. Also, it would have been like 4k words and it’s like 2:30AM and this girl needs to sleep. Anyway, stay tuned!! Thanks as always for reading, and I hope you all enjoyed. Your replies and reblogs/tags are so cute I read them all 💛💛💛💛

Fanfiction - The Teacher

Request for a fic. Everyone is joking about professor Sam in Barbour. Could you write a professor Jamie story. Claire is a student but Older and more intriguing than all the young giggling co-eds

…In the meantime, I had this anon ask sitting on my inbox for some months now – and I’d hate to let this fantasy go unattended!

The Teacher

Those girls were ridiculous, Claire thought. Madly fluttering their eyelashes as if a constant influx of dust was getting into their eyes and always bending over, using the pretence of catching a fallen pen or pencil, only to expose their cleavage. Claire felt she was inside a documentary on the mating rituals of college girls and, even if slightly amusing, it also disturbed her in an irrational way.

Health Management was an extra class for her – a way to get a couple more credits that would speed up her academic course. She was already almost ten years the senior when compared to the other students attending Medical School – her years as a nurse had given her a lot of useful resources, but also made her feel she was constantly battling time. It was an interesting class, that mixed concepts of health and economics, to ensure the future doctors based their decisions in cost-effectiveness. In spite of being well taught and useful, whispering was a constant background noise – clearly the result of female hormones going rampant. The problem was not the subject, Claire knew – was the man leading the class.

Professor Fraser was young and remarkably handsome – his Scottish accent and deep voice, combined with astonishing blue eyes, which he hid behind black rimmed glasses, inspired great admiration amongst the women in the classroom. The fact that the class functioned at all was a testament to Fraser’s capacity of using leadership skills and imposing respect.

A couple of girls next to her giggled and Claire distinctively heard one of them, a blonde bombshell that undoubtedly belonged in a house named after a Greek alphabet letter, saying “I would slide my hand bellow his kilt anytime…”

Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, Claire continued to sketch with her sharp pencil in the back of her notebook, struggling to focus again on the contents of the class. The shade in the external corner wasn’t quite right, she noticed, furrowing her brows in annoyance.

“Am I boring ye, Miss Beauchamp?” She heard a voice demanding her attention. Claire looked up and noticed all faces turned to her, clearly awaiting her reaction to being caught distracted. James Fraser stood next to the board with his arms crossed, his lips forming a half smile, expecting her answer.

Yes. “No, Professor Fraser.” She replied in a casual tone. “I was just taking notes and got distracted. May you repeat the question, please?”

“I see.” He said in a serious – disappointed? – tone. “Anyone knows the answer? Miss MacKenzie?”

“Replacing the blood gas machine would be the best measure.” Laoghaire MacKenzie glowed like a lit candle - marvelled that for once she had managed to upstage Claire and gain Professor Fraser’s attentions - offering a victorious look through the corner of her eye, which Claire blatantly ignored.

“That is correct.” He nodded, raising a brow in Claire’s direction. “I’d recommend that ye pay more attention to the class, Miss Beauchamp.”

“I bloody would if it wasn’t for your fan club.” Claire complained in a low voice, after he had resumed the class.

As the class ended – students rushing to the door to get to the refectory in time for lunch, talking about a hot party later that week -, Claire assembled her notebooks and pencil, storing them inside her green rucksack – made of what looked like army green fabric with a painted red cross, akin to something a doctor would wear during the Second World War.

“May I talk to you, Miss Beauchamp?” Professor Fraser asked politely, as she walked down the stairs in direction of the door. The room was almost deserted, only a couple of latecomers remained inside, struggling with coats and piles of books.

“Of course, Professor.” Claire stared at him, expectantly.

“Ye were distracted today.” He pointed, closing the book he had used to prepare the current subject. “Is something bothering ye, Claire?”

“No.” She firmly replied, her eyes downcast. “I’m sure I can’t be the first student you caught daydreaming. Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

Jamie gave her a concerned look, his blue eyes wrinkling in the corners. He was sporting a small stubble, that combined with his impeccable plaid shirt, gave him a look of casual handsomeness.

“Ye are one of the best students in the class.” He said slowly, neatly placing his books inside his own bag. “I wouldna like ye to squander yer potential. If something is disturbing ye, I’d like to help ye if I can, that’s all.”

“It’s fine.” She insisted in a harsher voice, her hands slightly trembling. “I don’t really need another man to tell me I’m not good enough and can’t handle things. Because I am quite capable!”

“I’m not saying ye aren’t, Miss Beauchamp.” He pointed patiently, glaring at her increasingly red face. “In fact, I think I just said quite the opposite.”

“I can’t focus because all the girls around me are acting like crazy hens, cackling over you!” She accused in a mordant voice, going completely berserk despite her best rational alarms going off in the outskirts of her brain. “I’m here to study – I have so much to learn still and my age will hurt me in spite of how good I keep proving myself again and again – and all they can think is to shag the teacher!”

“Ye’re crossing the line, Claire.” Jamie warned, his voice now low and dangerous. “I might be younger than ye – just a few years, really - but ye’re not exactly old enough to convince me ye’re getting senile by acting out and being disrespectful. I am the teacher here.”

“Then you should bloody act like it!” Claire growled, the hammer of anger – and jealousy? – pounding against her ribs. “Stop being so nice and attentive, because you’re clearly giving the wrong message!”

“What?!” His mouth was ajar, the pulse on his temple throbbing in anger. He practically tore his glasses away from his face, discarding them on the table with a dry sound. “I never made any advances on one of my students. The mere suggestion my behaviour is borderline unethical is a verra serious one, Miss Beauchamp. It can get me suspended if anyone in the faculty board hears it.”

“I’m sorry.” She hissed, fidgeting with the closing mechanism of her rucksack. “But you have to recognize that you are young and…handsome.” Claire swallowed her, her voice strangled. “You can pass the wrong impression just from breathing.”

“Maybe ye should drop this class.” Jamie suggested, slightly turning away from her in order to shield his face from her sight. “I can ask Professor Raymond’s permission for you to assist his Alternative Medicine class. It will give ye the same credits as mine.”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I should.” They stood there, facing each other, their eyes battling when words had failed them.

“Claire.” He asked, his voice ragged but softer, warmer. “Who told you ye werena enough?”

“My husband.” She avoided his eyes, twisting her lips in a grimace. “Ex-husband. He was a teacher too. Thought I couldn’t handle becoming a doctor – I should settle to what I already was. He was very vocal about it. That’s why we divorced.”

“He was wrong.” Jamie said softly, but firmly. His eyes were all shades of blue – stormless skies, bottomless oceans, rare wild flowers, starry nights, infinite horizons. “I hope ye ken that. Because I certainly do.”

“Oh.” Claire babbled, feeling utterly ridiculous after her outburst. He had his long-fingered hands placed on the desk between them – in her eyes they seemed made to lovingly caress a female body, to demand responses with brutal kindness, to hold a smaller hand that could fit perfectly. “Thank you.”

“It has been a pleasure teaching you, Claire.” He said quietly. “You have a lively mind and a sharp wit. They’ll serve ye well. Yer age won’t hinder ye, lass – it only makes ye that more intriguing and capable.”

“I’m sorry.” She gave him a weak blushing smile, reinforced by the way he responded with a small grin. “I can be quite…rebellious, when my heels are being stepped on.”

“I have witnessed it first-hand.” He laughed, brushing his copper hair in a display of nervousness. “Ye seem to have forgotten one of yer wee notebooks.” And, without waiting for her answer, strode to the place where she had been sitting, collecting her pad.

She knew he would see it – she had been working on it for most of the class and had left it open as she hurried to leave. It was a rough drawing of a blue eye, with a familiar catlike shape – framing it was a verse from her favourite poem in her stylized hand, “Da mi basia mille”.

Deinde centum.” He completed, caressing the sheet with his fingertips. “If ye’re not my student anymore,” He said in a hoarse voice, turning to look at her with a burst of hope in his eyes. “I’m finally free to ask ye out on a date, as I’ve wanted since the day I first saw ye sitting on my class.”

“girls” the 1975 (dean x reader) lyric smut

warnings: this is extremely nsfw, and it includes many mature gifs that contain sexual content! contains underage (17) girl x 30 y/o dean

a/n: i’m not too happy with how this came out, but it is my first lyric post so we’ll see. 

listen to “girls” by the 1975 here

bite your face to spite your nose / seventeen and a half years old / worrying about my brother finding out / what’s the fun in doing what you’re told?

“listen,” dean said sternly, looking into her eyes. “if you want to keep doing this, you’re going to need to quiet down. if my brother finds out that me, a 30 year old, is fucking around with a seventeen year old, he’s going to beat my ass.”

“dean,” she laughed, “don’t sweat it. he won’t find out,” she assured him.

i’m not your typical stoned eighteen year old / give me a night i’ll make you

“and remember, eighteen in two weeks,” she added, smiling at dean. he shook his head and thought to himself, what the hell am i doing. she lifted her hands to cup his bearded face and leant down for a passionate kiss, and that’s when he realized he was in too deep.

i know you’re looking for salvation in the secular age / but girl i’m not your savior 

“i don’t think this can go on any longer. sam is starting to catch on, and i’m starting to feel guilty, like i’m taking advantage of you,” dean mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“but dean, its only a couple of years, and age doesn’t matter! i need you,” she cried, reaching to grasp his hands, but he pulled away from her reach.

“i’m not helping you, and just because i’m older doesn’t mean i’m your savior or something.”

one moment i was tearing off your blouse / now you’re living in my house / what happened to just messing ‘round?

dean’s frantic hands flew to her blouse, pulling it over her head and breaking the kiss. their lips quickly found each other again, and she pushed her body flush against dean’s. 

“hey, dean?” she murmured into the kiss. 

“yeah?” he asked, moving down to kiss and nip at her neck gingerly, and she tilted her head back, creating space for his lips to explore. 

“i hope you don’t mind, but i need to stay here for a few weeks. i haven’t exactly been getting along with my parents lately,” she said, running her hands through dean’s hair.

he immediately pulled away, looking at her with regret. his hands falling from her hips. “this was supposed to be casual,” he groaned, sitting down on his bed and running his hands through his hair frustratedly. “what happened to just messing around?”

i said yo, i think i better go, i can’t take you / you just sit and get stoned with thirty year olds and you think you’ve made it / well, shouldn’t you be fucking with somebody your age instead of making changes? 

“this is starting to get ridiculous. you’re 17, stop acting like you’ve done something with your life! all you do is sit around with sam and i and think you’ve made it. like you’re an adult or something,” dean hollered, pointing in her face.

“don’t yell at me!” she cried, covering her face to shield her tears from dean. this enraged him even more. before he could control himself, his chest was puffing and his fists were clenching. 

“god, i can’t take you!” he screamed, hitting a lamp with his hand and knocking it off of the night stand. “shouldn’t you be fucking with someone your age? why me? i’m sure there are plenty of little tweens who would love to get in your pants.”

i told her from the start / destined to be hard / i told her from the start / i’ll break your heart

5 months earlier

“are you sure this is what you want?”dean questioned, running his hands over her hair.

“yes,” she uttered, looking up at dean with doe eyes. 

“i’m telling you, being with me isn’t exactly a walk in the park. this is all casual, so don’t even think about falling,” he warned her, knowing that in the end she might end up with a broke heart. 

“trust me,” she whispered, leaning up from her position on his chest, “i don’t get attached easily,” she informed dean as she pressed kisses to his neck.

they’re just girls, breaking hearts / eyes bright, uptight, just girls / but she can’t be what you need if she’s seventeen / they’re just girls

“she’s not what you need, dean! for christ’s sake, she’s fucking seventeen years old! what were you thinking?” sam yelled angrily, staring at dean with a questioning glance. 

“she’s just a girl. she was nothing more.” 

tags: @jensen-gal

Winter Anime Final Impressions

I was supposed to do this like two weeks ago but with Gundam ending so late and me getting swept up with many things, I didn’t have the time, but here’s a quick rundown of the best and worst of the Winter season. I’m gong from best to worst and also since I watched very few shows this season, I ‘m not gonna break them down in best/meh/worst

Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu: Sukeroku Futatabi-hen

A masterpiece to the very end, as heartbreaking as it was full of joy and love. There was this weird insinuation at the end that didn’t sit well with me at all and I’m not sure why they felt the need to do it, but I can overlook it because the rest of the picture is so wonderful and special and heart-wrenching. When Konatsu asked Yakumo to make her his apprentice, I actually cried. What a beautiful show. Don’t let the obscure antique Japanese art keep you from experiencing one of the best anime of this decade.

Ao no Exorcist: Kyoto-hen

I was a bit worried about this one because lately, when an “old” show gets a sequel many years after it last aired, said sequel turns out underwhelming and poorly done. See D.Grayman HALLOW (which also adapted my favorite arc from that manga) and Berserk (production values aside, the decline of this is due to Miura’s gross storytelling, so I guess it was inevitable). But I was more than surprised and ecstatic to see this rendition of the Kyoto arc did justice on the source material, with excellent production values, a good pace and wonderful emotional and action scenes alike. AoEx is one of the finest examples of the battle shonen genre and that translated wonderfully to this new iteration of the anime. I can only hope we’ll see Izumo’s and Shura’s arc eventually too.

ACCA-13-ku Kansatsuka

I was a Little on the fence on this one at the start, but once they laid down all the cards and tied all the loose threads, it became absolutely amazing. I’m sorry I ever doubted you Natsume Ono, your ability to craft smart and fascinating adult stories shall never be questioned again. Definitely worth checking out if you want to try something different to your usual anime genres. Helps that the visuals are really interesting and that Mauve is such a bae. I still feel Jean was the weakest link with his absolute nonchalance, but even that somehow worked at the end. Definitely worth going through the somewhat slow initial episodes.

Yowamushi Pedal: New Generation

NGL i’m not a fan of Kaburagi, he’s so much like Naruko I don’t feel he adds anything to the team. But this is now officially the Teshima show and that compensates for the snooze that is Kaburagi because Teshima has become so fabulous and cool I’m just excited every week to see what he’ll do next. Also the First-year race was a true highlight and I’m very disappointed Sugimoto didn’t make the cut, they did a fantastic job in making him likable, so it was sad to see him lose. Hopefully he’ll get to assist Imaizumi when they’re 3rd years.

Originally posted by animagamefan

Little Witch Academia

This show’s a lot of fun, with really sweet animation and it also sports the Best Girl of the season, Sucy Manbavaaran, although I gotta say there were a bit too many fillerish episodes and it was frustrating to see them take so long to get the plot going. I’m not hating on the show, it is in fact extremely entertaining, but it’s a little lacking on the plot department. Hopefully we’ll get more of that on the second cour.

Classicaloid

I’ve never been happier of not quitting a show as I am about Classicaloid. By episode 3 I was on the verge of giving up because it wasn’t what I had expected, but I kept going and I ended falling so hard in love with this show I’m ecstatic it’s getting a second season. Once I embraced the absurdity, it became the best comedy of the season, and I honestly would watch Schubert’s fishy misadventures for 52 weeks a year. It’s an acquired taste for sure and not easy to recommend, but if you’re willing to let go of all reason, you’re sure to have a good time.

Originally posted by mimimochi

All Out!!

I have a lot of love for this show and its characters (and Sekizan’s ridiculous hair), but I’m afraid the pacing they chose basically doomed them because with the abysmal sales, it seems unlikely we’ll ever see a second season and therefore we’ll never get to see if Jinko does get to Hanazono. It’s a perfectly competent sports series, that does a really good job of developing its huge cast, definitely much better than the likes of Prince of Stride or DAYS, but its inconclusive ending is quite frustrating. I really do hope we get to see more of these boys, but Madhouse’s never been all that good with the whole getting-sequels-done so…

Originally posted by dexicon

Kuzu no Honkai

In spite of its low ranking, this is actually a really good show and a unique take on teenage female sexuality that you wouldn’t normally see in this mostly sexist medium. Hanabi made for a truly interesting protagonist and I liked seeing her explore herself and her relationships. I was however quite disappointed by how little focus we actually had for Hanabi and Mugi’s relationship. I felt there was more telling than showing in that regard, especially in the latter half of the show. The ending was pretty good and mature in spite of everything, and as always, I’m just really fond of all the vaginal imagery in the ED animation. Could’ve done without Moca though.

Originally posted by jyoshikausei

Gundam: Tekketsu Orphans

At the end of the Fall season, I expressed my concern about pointless, meaningless deaths. Clearly the Gundam writers thought I wasn’t concerned enough because the amount of characters that died pointless deaths went on to, I think, the double digits. I wouldn’t have minded the carnage if there had been some sort of payoff to the sacrifices. For example, if Shino hadn’t stupidly and conveniently missed his one shot because the show couldn’t afford to kill Rustal yet. I always felt Orga, Mika and Akihiro had a ton of death flags looming over their heads, but I certainly didn’t expect all three of them to get to the chopping block. Orga’s death was particularly random and pointless, but then again, what they did with Orga in general was very confusing. That he agreed to McGillis’s sketchy propositions to become “king of Mars” never made a whole lot of sense to me and that’s the result we got. I’ll also never get over how creepy and weird the whole Atra giving Mika a baby thing was. In short, I have very mixed feelings about it.

Originally posted by shokugekis

Hand Shakers

I could write thousands of words for everything that was wrong with this series but I think it wouldn’t make justice to the absolute experience that is watching this amazing trainwreck. Go watch it to see a masterclass of how not to anime. Honestly I had such a good time hating this show, it was so horrible in every possible way. Good job GoHands, even animate, who sponsored this show, won’t give it any publicity.

Super Lovers

I’m not sure of how this production team managed to put out 20 episodes of nothing actually happen. Like you just have to give kudos to the writers for managing to simply not do anything over the course of 6~ hours of content. No drama, no decent comedy, no character development, not even relationship development in a BL romance. It’s kind of amazing how pointless the whole thing is. The dog’s still cute and the relationship is still creepy and gross and that’s about all there is to say about this.

Although most of the shows I watched turned out great, it did feel like a weaker season because there wasn’t that much that was interesting (my Wednesdays were literally empty). Or maybe everything looks lackluster in this post-Yuri on Ice world D: But there was Rakugo and rakugo is good and I’m glad we live in an age in which such a niche, quiet and adult artistic show could be made and tell a complete story.

Boat

// In which the first date with Antonio Alejandro Bartholomew IV occurs //

part 2 of the sugar daddy series (part 1)

*Warning Contains Mature Content*

enjoy and see ya next chapter in san fransisco - drea🌿

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All I Wanted; C.H. 26

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10**, part 11*, part 12*, part 13, part 14, part 15**, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25

Maybe I should’ve paid attention to who was opening the door instead of still mentally preparing myself for the conversation I were about to have. If I had paid better notion to my surroundings, I would’ve seen it was Meredith at the front door, but somehow I wanted to avoid all together until I got this over with.

“I really need to tell you something and it has been gnawing on me but please hear me out –“ I shift my gaze and my breath hitches in my throat when I see Calum casually leaning against the doorway, hand dangling above his head as his smirk seems to never end. He lifts his eyebrow when I notice him, and not his sister. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“What are you doing here?” I mutter without a second thought. It draws a scoff from Calum lips has he refocuses his body weight onto both his legs again, towering above me.
“I live here.”

“Ah – I know. But where is Meredith?” I feel my eyes widening and the colourful shame rise to my cheeks at the same time. This is beyond awkward. I don’t even know if there is a word that can describe what I’m experiencing emotionally right now. But I would describe it as a horrible rollercoaster. My eyes are scanning over his stubbled jaw over his lips to his eyes, and I try my absolute best to maintain my harsh glare, but I feel myself wavering.

“She’s at Michael’s.” He states so simply, as if I should’ve known this was the answer I were to receive. I feel anger once more bubbling inside my core, and I refrain from doing anything by biting my bottom lip harshly, but not draw blood.

I refrain from speaking, and take a step backwards to head back to my car. The only solution here is postponing the conversation. I know I might chicken out once the appropriate time comes around but I’ll just have to trust myself I’ll put through this time. I am already turned on my heel before Calum mutters his snarky comment. “So what was zo important you came running over like an idiot? Trouble in paradise already?”

I feel my shoulders tense, my fingers curling as my hands ball into fists. I turn on my heel in one swift motion and stalk back up to the front door, dangling my pointer finger mere centimetres from his nose. “You know what Calum? Fuck you!”

I am seething, and if I could slip my fingers around his throat and strangle him without consequences, I would. Sadly, I can’t. Instead, I can grant him with the deadliest glare I can muster, barely baring my teeth as I keep my fists balled up and my body in close proximity to his.

The smirk crawls back onto his lips. “You already did that, Y/n. Remember?” I can’t stop myself as I slap his chest. He seems surprised but it wasn’t nearly enough to hurt him. I raise my hand for another slap to his chest, hopefully one with more force than my last hit. Calum thwarts my motion though as his fingers curl around my wrist and stops my movements.

“Like you haven’t screwed multiple others since.” It flows from my lips just to spite him, but it hurts me to think about it. It hasn’t even been a few weeks since our last time together and imagining Calum’s body enveloping another girl’s brings a tightness to my chest I can’t decipher.

Suddenly, Calum’s grip on my wrist loosens and his features change into another emotion, although I’m in doubt which one it is. “Wait, what?”
He takes a step back, frowning down on me as he licks his lip, a nervous habit of his.
“No, I didn’t. Did – did you?”

His question takes me by surprise. I reciprocate his nervous habit as I feel my tongue poke out to wet my own lips as my eyes dart between his eyes. I guess it’s better to just be honest with him, but before I can even open my mouth to answer, he speaks once more.
“I mean – with Harry and all –“

“No, I – we – we kissed and… I couldn’t – so we talked and I – I came here to – “ I stumble over my words, as badly as I have ever done, because I realise I have probably done so much more horrible things than he has. Calum had a charade going.
“To do what?” He questions me since I had trailed off and hadn’t finished my sentence. I know this is what he wanted from the start and what I had held back as long as it had been happening.

“To tell Meredith –“ I can’t finish that sentence either, because I feel the lump in my throat rise and my eyes start to prickle. I turn away from Calum, deciding on walking away. It may be a cowardly act, but I don’t think I have the energy for a conversation like this, right now.

I am taking by surprise when I feel Calum’s hand grasp my lower arm and swiftly spins me around. I almost fall against his chest but can steady myself just in time. It only takes Calum a split second for his to wrap his arms round my waist and lean in. His lips press against mine hastily, but with such passion it has my mind reeling and my knees turning weak. I can feel Calum’s tension and frustration through his kiss and my press my body closer to his as my arms snake around his neck. Calum’s hands press against the small of my back, trying to bring me impossibly closer.

When I start moving my lips against his, I can feel his lips turn up into a small smile and I can’t help myself when I feel my heart flutter. I begin to push against Calum’s broad chest which hopefully would direct us inside, but he plants his feet firmly on the ground and breaks the kiss.

“What are you doing?” He breathes as his eyes slowly flutter open, a frown taking over his previous blissful smile. “Well,” I turn my head to see if any of the neighbours had spotted us, “I’m not in the mood to end up on your lawn or for any snoopers.” I wiggle my eyebrows as I bite my bottom lip.

Calum groans in return, his arm back to curling around my waist as I feel his large hand land on my bum. He hauls me against him and pulls me inside with him. As soon as the door clicks in his lock, I’m roughly pressed against the dark wood, feet barely touching the floor as Calum hoists me up and reconnects our lips. His free hand is wandering all over my body and proceeds to push my coat off of my shoulders all while keeping his lips glued to my flushed skin.

“Parents?” I breathe, letting my head drop against the wall behind me and my eyelids fall closed as a contented sigh leaves my lips. “Out for the day.” Calum mumbles against my skin and when he grasps me completely, I swing my legs around his waist for leverage. My coat lands on the floor with a loud thud and while Calum proceeds upstairs with me in his arms, carrying me up the flights of steps with ease, I occupy myself by exploring every bit of exposed skin with my lips, teeth and tongue while slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

When my feet are firmly on the ground again, I immediately press his shirt to the floor of Calum’s bedroom. Calum is quick to unbutton my own shirt and I start on unbuttoning his jeans while our lips stay locked. He breaks the kiss and I can feel my heart beating rapidly as he takes a step closer and cups my cheek, his thumb slowly brushing over my cheekbone.

“I could’ve sworn if Harry was the one that could shag you every day I might’ve hurt him. God I missed you.” Calum breathes as his fingers glide along my jawline, his eyes searching mine for a response. I laugh loudly, step out of his reach and slowly swing my hips back and forth while I walk further into his room. I push my shirt off of my shoulders and unclip my bra as I throw a devilish grin over my shoulder.  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Your Savior - 38

I feel like it’s been a minute since I’ve posted, sorry about the delay! I have some extra things going on in my personal life right now, so finding the time to actually sit and write has been difficult! The good news is I have had lots of time to mentally write, so I have several chapters planned out in advance!

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Chapter 38

Warnings:

Any chapter in this fic may contain purposeful content by the writer to induce: emotional distress, anxiety, and all of the feels! It is NEVER my intent to cause vomiting! ;)   (Seriously, could be one of my fav convos ever!)

Any chapter may also contain: swearing, Negan being Negan, violence/gore, angst (see above), mentions of death, mentions of past sexual assault, PG adult contact, or smut (This is to avoid spoilers in future chapters. I guess read at your own risk.)

Your Savior Masterlist


The next morning you awoke groggier than you had in several weeks. Your short morning with Negan had been enough to keep nightmares of Thomas and Bill at bay, but it did nothing for your jumbled thoughts and feelings of anxiety at the stress that had been compounding on you since you arrived at The Sanctuary. Your sleep was restless and you awoke constantly, checking to ensure your make-shift chair lock had stayed in place.

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Sirius Black Imagine: “The muggle and the dog - Part 1”

Can you do an imagine with Sirius Black where he is hiding from the ministry of magic after they think he killed Jily and the reader (a mogul) takes him in as Padfoot (when he’s a dog) and has no idea then comes home one day and dings Sirius shirtless and cooking or whatever? Then she’d be really scared but comforts her and maybe kisses her?

Requested by anon

Warnings: bad language

[y/f/m]= your favorite meal


Today you were having a shitty day. You knew it may sound offensive to other ears, but damn, there wasn’t a better adjective to describe the experience. First, you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you. Then, you confronted him and broke up with him, obviously. You didn’t need assholes in your life, thank you very much. After the break-up, someone stole your wallet while you were in the underground. And on the top of that, it hadn’t stopped raining all day long. Typically British, mind you? But still, what had you done to deserve this? Why did all of this bullshit have to happen in the same day? Couldn’t life give you a break? Apparently not, as next thing you knew, you stumbled upon something and fell into a puddle, splashing water everywhere.

“Fucking rain! I wasn’t looking. I’m sor-“

You trailed off when you realized that you hadn’t run into a person. Instead, a black dog was eyeing you in wonder. Well, at least the situation wasn’t as humiliating as if you had bumped into a handsome bloke. You made sure the mutt wasn’t injured and stood up, straightening your wet clothes to the best of your abilities. Your legs marched as you prayed that nothing else happened to you before getting home. Then, a powerful emotion invaded your senses: fear. Why did you suddenly feel like somebody was following you? You weren’t going paranoid, were you? Nevertheless, you had to make sure. Every single time you turned around, your eyes caught nobody. The only sound was the endless raindrops falling over the ground. Yes, you were going paranoid. It was either that, or your exhausted brain telling you to get to your flat as soon as possible. 

A few more steps and, finally, you were inside your home, sweet home. You closed the door and sighed, resting your forehead against the door and wondering how the hell you had managed to survive today. It took you a few minutes to compose yourself and turn the lights on. You certainly weren’t prepared for what your [y/e/c] eyes saw: the black dog, the same black dog that had made you fall with a thud into the fucking puddle. Your first reaction was to squeal and put your hand over your heart, afraid that it would stop beating at the start. There, it looked like that crucial organ of your body was still functioning.

“You! You have been the one who’s been chasing me! What do you think I am, mmm? A cat?”

You didn’t even know why you were speaking out loud. It was an animal, for God’s sake! The dog seemed to look at you diverted though, as if it actually understood English and was able to read your thoughts. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion and held your gaze. Why did the animal look human? You shook your head, as if trying to forget about it and opened the door. The black dog didn’t move.

“Get out, now!”

The mutt poked its tongue out, yet its composure didn’t change.

“Ugh! For fuck’s sake!” you grunted, throwing your arms up in exasperation. 

You approached the black creature cautiously and tried to push it outdoors, to the bloody rain, but the dog was too heavy for you. Groaning, you made your way to the kitchen and took a sausage. This will do, you thought.

“Hey, mutt! Over there!” you screamed, flinging the food outside.

Nothing. The dog didn’t even blink. This couldn’t be happening to you.

“I swear, I had a terrible day, I don’t need a big black dog that seems to be keen on my humble flat! Just leave me the hell alone!”

The dog seemed to look at you pityingly now, but made no move. You took the time to inspect it thoroughly. Its pose was pleading. It didn’t wear a leash, so it was either lost or abandoned. Its dark hair was soaking wet, and it was dampening your carpet. You didn’t want to waste the little energy you still had in worrying about it though. Rather, you locked eyes with the creature. You could almost read emotions in there. Was that even normal? The possibility that you were indeed going paranoid was as alive as ever. In spite of it, you felt a pang in your chest when you realized that you were alone now, as alone as this mutt. Maybe fate had played its cards. Maybe whoever is up there had wanted you to meet the lost animal.

“You may stay,” you finally whispered.

The dog suddenly jumped to you and licked your face, its tail moving vividly. Concerned that you were turning into a softy, you added, “But only for tonight! I’ll find you a place tomorrow!”

As you put on your pajama and let yourself fall into your bed, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps the day hadn’t ended as bad as you had predicted.

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pterodactylichexameter  asked:

MESTA PLUS CASSIAN WHICH IS NOT A NESSIAN PROMPT PER SE BUT U FEEL ME

I DO FEEL U. bless Alicia. This is the best Nessian ot3. I could have done sin but apparently I went down the domesticity road instead so ??? Here we are. A little bit angsty…and I’m not really sure what happened but…I hope u like it anyway, Alicia. 

Nesta settles herself more comfortably in Mor’s embrace. They’re curled together on the sofa, Nesta has a book propped open in her lap that she’s been reading to her for the past hour or so, Mor is supplying grateful cuddles while they do this. 

As Nesta turns the page onto the next chapter however, Mor interrupts her. Leaning down and tilts her face up, softly kissing her and in spite of the distraction Nesta can’t help but kiss her back. She smiles into it and indulges her for a long moment, reaching a hand up and winding it through Mor’s thick golden hair and holding her against her mouth for a long kiss. 

When she draws back, though, her brown eyes have a distant look in them. Nesta can feel the tension in her, notes the way her eyes keep darting towards the huge floor-to-ceiling window that fills most of the opposite wall of their townhouse, as though she can see out of it, all the way to the distant Illyrian camps, to him. 

Nesta coaxes her down to her and kisses her again, only a brief brush of lips, then says quietly, “He’s alright.” 

“Thank you,” Mor mumbles back, though she’s still not looking at her, eyes fixed on that window again. 

Nesta would have felt through the bond if anything had happened to Cassian but Mor, lacking that connection, that ability to feel him when he’s miles away, is prone to panicking instead. 

“It’s just a routine visit,” Nesta continues, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her. 

“I know,” Mor bites out, her voice a little sharper than intended, her arms tightening around Nesta as they snap out of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers quietly and Nesta looks up in time to see her squeezing her eyes shut, composing herself. 

She squeezes her arm gently, “It’s alright.” 

She can’t blame her for this. Being separated from either of them doesn’t bother her typically but Cassian returning to camps that have been fraught with tension and the assassination of key leaders and being away from them for so long without any way for her to reach him has her on edge. 

She’s hidden it well, kept herself as busy as possible, maintained that perfect mask of bright cheerful irreverence she wears so well but Nesta knows better. When they’re alone like this, in their home, in a space where she can be intimate and vulnerable, it emerges. That panic, that worry, that consuming terror that perhaps he won’t come home this time, that she’ll lose him, as she lost Az. 

Nesta slides gently out of Mor’s arms and reverses their positions, wrapping her in an embrace and kissing the side of her head. As she feels her trembling she can’t help but scold her, “You should have said something,” she says, voice quiet but stern. “If things were this bad you should have told me and I could have contacted him.” 

“It’s not been that bad,” Mor mumbles but that only causes Nesta to roll her eyes. She’s as bad as Cassian when it comes to admitting that she’s hurt or that she might need help. 

“You’re shaking, Morrigan,” she says quietly, giving her a soft squeeze. Mor closes her eyes, resting her head against Nesta’s shoulder, eyes closed. 

“I just want him home,” she murmurs quietly. 

Nesta kisses her, “He’s due back any day,” she reminds her quietly. 

Mor lets out a little irritable huff, “I want him home now,” she grumbles, but her mouth twitches up just a little into a small smile. 

Nesta kisses her once more then slides out from underneath Mor, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet, “Come on,” she says quietly, tugging insistently on her hand and leading her out of the neat living room. She raises an eyebrow but consents to follow Nesta obediently out of the room when she doesn’t give any further explanation of this sudden departure. 

****

The water around them is pleasantly warm, sinking into her sore muscles after a day of non-stop meetings and arguments. Mor has her arms around her, occasionally scooping water out of the bath and trickling it over her hair to rinse the soap from it while she lies content in her arms.

The bath itself is probably closer to a small swimming pool than a bath. They had wanted a space they could all fit comfortably into and Cassian being the hulking mass that he was, not to mention the wings, had required something special.

It was worth it though, she thinks, nestled in her partner’s arms, letting the warmth seep into her bones. It does Mor almost as much good, steeping in bubbles and surrounded by the soft scents of her favourite bath salts, some of the tension finally eases out of her muscles, to Nesta’s relief. She hates seeing Mor so agitated and worried when she’s usually so bright and grounded and settled.  

They’ve been twined together for all of twenty minutes before the door bangs open and only the reassuring tug on the bond stops Nesta jumping and reaching for her power, as Mor had done. 

“You prick!” Mor snarls at Cassian as he ambles into the room and grins at them, apparently rather pleased at himself for having managed to make her jump. 

“Your reflexes are terrible,” he informs her blandly, without so much as a prelimanry ‘hello’ after weeks away, starting to strip off his boots and socks, “You’ll be in the ring tomorrow bright and breezy.” 

Mor growls at him and sends a wave of water from the bath cascading over him, which Cassian is too slow to avoid. “My reflexes are just fine,” she bites out irritably, glowering at him. 

Nesta hides her smile as the two of them start bickering back and forth, as though Cassian had never left and Mor hadn’t been spending sleepless nights worrying about him for the past three weeks. 

Cassian continues to strip out of his filthy leathers, grinning at the two of them. When he makes to approach the bath however Mor holds up a hand. “You’re filthy,” she grinds out at him, eyes narrowed, the arm around Nesta’s waist tightening as she draws her closer. 

“Sure am,” Cassian says, sounding altogether too pleased with this fact. “That’s generally why people take baths you know, to get clean when they’re dirty.” 

“There’s a shower in the corner,” Mor tells him sweetly, “I’m not having you ruining my calming bath by having me swim in all the dirt you’ve trailed back from the Illyrian- Cassian don’t you dare-” 

The reprimand comes entirely too late and a moment later the contents of the bath are slopping over the sides as he lowers himself gracelessly into the bathtub. How can he be such a deadly force of nature on the battlefield but like this when he’s at home with them Nesta has never been able to fathom. 

“You pig, Cassian!” Mor barks furiously at him, glowering at the little patches of dirt that are already starting to float on the surface alongside the pristine white bubbles but knowing better than to order him out now. 

Nesta detaches herself from Mor’s side and bobs towards Cassian to greet him, not having managed to get a word out between their bickering. Cassian smiles as she gets within range of his huge arms and a moment later he’s slid a hand around her waist and has drawn her closer to him. Nesta gives an indignant little huff of protest at the filth that covers him but still tips her head back and allows him to kiss her, slowly and deeply, while Mor grumbles about her being a ‘traitor’ in her corner. 

Drawing back however she eyes Cassian critically, having felt a twinge in her back down the bond when he’d pulled her towards him “You’re hurt,” she says quietly, frowning at him. 

At once the sound of Mor’s good-natured grumbling behind them cuts off and all the lightness that had blossomed in the wake of Cassian’s return seems to die. His face tightens and he peers reproachfully down at Nesta before returning his gaze to Mor. Nesta glances over her shoulder and looks back at her too and bites her lip, regretting the words as she takes in the tightness of her muscles, the suddenly ashen colour of her golden skin. 

“It’s fine,” Cassian says quickly, his voice low and reassuring as Mor’s throat bobs, hands clenching into fists beneath the surface of the water. “I’m fine, it’s a scratch, barely even that.” 

Nesta moves behind him, clearing away the bubbles and prodding at his back. The cut is almost healed and seems only to have been prevented by where Cassian’s leathers have rubbed against it as he flew. She probes gently at the wound, making Cassian squirm, though he tries to hide that from Mor. 

“What happened?” she asks, her voice utterly flat and empty, always a warning sign.

“It was a training accident,” Cassian replies at once, his voice low and soothing. He smiles slightly when he adds, a touch of pride in his words now, “One of the girls, actually, one of your girls.” Nesta flicks her eyes up to Mor to see if the mention of one of the female Illyrians succeeding in slipping past their commanders guard will draw a smile from her but she doesn’t react. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyes flat and cold. Then Cassian continues with a soft smirk, “Been teaching them bad habits, haven’t you princess?”

Nesta elbows him in the ribs making him wince and look down reproachfully at her as she scolds him through the bond. His head jerks up again as Mor speaks once more.

“You came all the way back here with an injury?” Mor says behind her, a deadly calm lacing her words. 

Cassian reaches out and scoops her towards him, pressing her against him. Mor doesn’t take her eyes away from his face as he does so, “I wanted to see you again,” he murmurs to her, “I mis-“ She wrenches away from him, snarling.

“How could you be so stupid?” she snaps at him, slapping the surface of the water with a hand, her voice trembling.

Looking desperate, Cassian opens his mouth to answer back but Nesta reaches out and takes Mor’s hand, squeezing it. She holds her gaze as she says quietly, “He’s alright.” She leads Mor over, elbowing Cass again to make him turn so that Mor can see.

She wordlessly studies the injury, the cut is long and red at the edges where his leathers have rubbed it, stopping his immortal blood healing it on the flight back, but it’s shallow. Mor reaches out, examining it, pressing gently at the purple bruising and making Cassian hiss irritably.

Light flares as she pulls on her power, despite the exhaustion lining her eyes and begins to heal him. Nesta stops Cassian from insisting that he doesn’t need that and the two of them watch her as she heals the cut and then the surrounding bruise, the skin knitting seamlessly together again. Mor presses gently on his back a few more times then, seeming satisfied, moves back to his front.

Without another word she slides her arms around him and presses her head against his chest, eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles against him, her breathing ragged. Cassian presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, big broad hands rubbing her back and stroking her hair to calm her down.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “It’s okay, I’m home now, it’s okay.” Mor nods, still pressed against him, but Nesta sees her soften slightly.

Groaning, Cassian slides down and sits on the raised portion of the bath that acts as a seat when all three of them bathe together. Once he’s settled he reaches out with the hand not still stroking Mor’s hair and tugs Nesta against his other side, shifting Mor over a little to make room for her. Leaning down he kisses them both, slow and deep, and lets them both nestle closer to him.

With a soft rustling his wings close around them all, tucking them in close and wrapping them in his warmth, his scent. “I missed you,” he rumbles softly to them, kissing the tops of their heads and they smile and bury in against him.

At least until Cassian reaches for one of Mor’s expensive bottles of soap and flicks the cap open with a thumb. Mor’s answering snarl echoes around the bathroom walls and Nesta hides her smile as she growls at Cass again, “Don’t you even think about-“ Before he smirks defiantly and squeezes a large blob onto his palm.

Mor starts ranting at him again and Nesta smiles, knowing that Cassian wound her up deliberately to take her mind off of his injury. Shoving the bottle vaguely to one side he slides two fingers of the hand not covered in soap under Mor’s chin then kisses her. “I’ll make it up to you, princess,” he promises her with a lazy smirk that has her shivering.

“You’d better,” Mor grumbles, picking up one of her shampoos and dumping a large quantity of it onto the top of Cassian’s head before rubbing it in.

“Oh he will,” Nesta says with a wicked smile, squeezing more of the soap out onto her hand and proceeding to wash Cassian’s wings. He lets out a long, low groan, flaring them out a little wider for her on instinct.

Nesta nuzzles at his neck and Mor, grinning broadly and catching on at once starts rubbing the shampoo into his hair and agreeing, “Once he’s properly clean again.” Cassian, correctly interpreting how they’re going to torment him, sinks a little more deeply into the bath, trembling and cursing his luck that he ever managed to fall in love with both of these wicked females.

****

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day, Steven.

It had been a really rough week.  Five-0 had caught a case that was almost a smorgasbord of illegal acts: several homicides, extortion, ransom, drug trafficking and yet another bomb scare.  When all was said and done, they had needed to conduct a twelve hour stakeout, tail and interrogate at least five different suspects, and coordinate with SWAT and the bomb squad for the final take down.  Luckily, no one was seriously injured, but it was safe to say that they’d all been pushed to their physical, emotional and mental limits.

So when an exhausted Danny Williams stumbled into his kitchen and found a plate of heart-shaped cookies and hand-decorated cards from his children, it took him a moment to process the significance of the items.

It was February 16th.  He had completely missed Valentine’s Day.

Danny slumped into one of the chairs and scrubbed a hand across his face, debating what he should do.  What he wanted was to face plant into his bed and not move for the next ten to fifteen hours, but the romantic in him balked at the notion of ignoring the oversight.  Sure, the last few Valentine’s hadn’t exactly gone according to plan either, but that was before he and Steve had gotten together.

Following last year’s disastrous couple’s retreat with Lynn and Melissa, they’d all taken a hard look at what they had and what they truly wanted.  The girls were great, but neither he nor Steve would ever be able to give them what they deserved, not when they were so devoted and in love with one another.  The subsequent breakups were amicable, but still difficult, particularly for Danny and Melissa, who had been together for four years.  But it was for the best – Melissa was a wonderful woman, and she needed a partner that was wholly committed to her, who could say “I love you” with ease, and where both she and her significant other could be themselves, void of any relational guards.

Ironically, Melissa and Lynn had found that in each other, just as Danny and Steve did.

Two days ago should have been Steve and Danny’s first Valentine’s Day as a couple.  They hadn’t made any plans, nor had they discussed whether or not they would even celebrate it, but that didn’t stop Danny from imagining how such an evening could have gone.

He shivered and decided a cold shower was in order.

In spite of his mental wanderings, he knew he wouldn’t have the energy for such activities.  But in the end, he decided that a little gesture was better than none at all.  After said cold shower (accomplished in under five minutes – Steve would be so proud), Danny redressed in jeans and a t-shirt, packed an overnight bag, and headed to the store.  

By now, all the local shops had placed their Valentine’s items on clearance.  After some debate, Danny selected a Butterfly lei, a teddy bear dressed like a sailor (and holding a heart), a pack of Longboards and – just in case he managed to tap into his last energy reserves – some bedroom essentials.  Satisfied with his choices, he paid for the items (glaring at the smirking store clerk as she rang up the condoms), and headed over to Steve’s place.

When he arrived, he was surprised to find that Steve’s truck was not in the driveway, and all the lights were off.  He knocked a few times and called out, but there was no answer.  Danny had a spare key of course, so he let himself in.  

There were signs that Steve had been there recently – dirty dishes in the sink, and his clothes from that day were left on the bathroom floor along with a wet towel, but the SEAL was nowhere to be found.

Worry and dread began to creep in, but was quickly laid to rest when his cell phone rang, the screen flashing his partner’s name.

“Steve… are you okay?  Where are you right now?”

“I was about to ask you that.  I’m at your place.”

“I’m at yours.”

Silence fell for a few beats.  

“I forgot about Valentine’s Day.  I came over to surprise you,” Steve explained.

Danny laughed and shook his head.  “Same here.  Honestly, the one time we’re both on the same page…”

“That’s why we’re perfect together, babe,” Steve interrupted.  “Stay there.  I’ll be back soon.”

“Sounds good.  I’ll be waiting for you.”

His fears alleviated, Danny put the Longboards in the refrigerator and left the rest of his purchases on the kitchen island.  Then he went to the living room, found a local football game on T.V. and made himself comfortable on the couch.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, there were soft lips pressed against his.  He opened his eyes to find his partner’s hazel eyes staring down at him, affectionate but tired.

“Mmm… hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Steve whispered.  “Sorry for waking you.”

“S’okay.”  Danny sat up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him back in for a deeper kiss.  Steve’s hands drifted to explore Danny’s lower back, urging him closer.

As sweet as it was, it didn’t last long.  Steve pulled back and released a huge yawn.

Danny quirked a brow.  “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” he joked.

Steve looked abashed, but tried to hide it by resting his forehead against Danny’s.  “Sorry.  It’s not you.  I’m just so tired.”

“Me too,” Danny admitted.  “We haven’t slept much over the last forty-eight hours.  Let’s get some rest.  We can pick this back up again later.”

“Okay,” Steve murmured, sounding half asleep already.  

Rather than head up to the bedroom, Danny laid back down on the couch, coaxing Steve to follow.  It took some arranging, but eventually, they settled into a snug position – Danny lying on his back and Steve partially on top of him, arms and legs entangled.  

Steve pillowed his head on Danny’s chest and yawned again.  “Love you, Danno,” he said.

“Love you too.  Happy belated Valentine’s Day, Steven.”

Within minutes, they were both sound asleep.  They were together – safe, content and happy.  That alone made it the best Valentine’s Day either had ever had, even if it was a few days late.

Just Thought I’d Check in on My Beloved - Pt 5

“Oh, Rosaline, look at how beautiful!” Livia called as she fawned over a dress hanging from a shop in the market.  Benvolio chuckled, eyes turning to the lady on his arm.  He ducked his head towards hers so that he could bury his nose in her hair and whisper into her ear.  His hand settled at the small of her back, and an easy grin crossed his lips as she gave a slight shiver.

The easy affection in public was still new to the couple, and Rosaline could scarcely believe that it was real.  Some days, this particular one included, maintaining respectful distance while in the company of others was quite a challenge.  Her fiance was not one to help such matters, generous with his touch and flirtation as he’d become since the day they’d realized the depths of their feelings for one another.  She’d never allowed herself to dream that such love could belong to her…and yet.  “Go, my love, get her a beautiful dress for the ceremony.  Find something lovely for yourself.  I’ll handle the business for my uncle and then return to you.”  He tucked a coin purse into her hand, and pressed a kiss to her temple.  

Before he could step away, though, Rosaline curled her fingers around the back of his neck and tugged him down for a lingering kiss.  “Be quick, Montague, lest we spend all your money.”

“All that I possess belongs to you, Capulet.”  With a charming wink, he was gone.

“Rose, on with it, sister! He’s round the corner, you needn’t stare after him any longer,” Livia teased.  Cheeks burning, Rosaline hurried to catch up with her younger sister, and fawned over the lovely dress in her hands.

“Oh, Liv, this is perfect!”  She held it up to Livia’s shoulders and nodded.  “How much, sir?”  She glanced over to the shopkeeper, ignoring her sister’s surprised protest as she handed him the proper payment.

“Rosaline I cannot accept such a gift!”

“‘Tis not from me, and yes, you most certainly can.  You deserve to be spoiled from time to time, and I’ll not complain if my fiance sees fit to be one of the men to see it done.”  Truthfully, it was one of the many things that seemed to make her fall more in love with Benvolio; he’d never hesitated to include Livia into their family, their plans for the future.  His loyalty to Rosaline meant loyalty to her sister, and Rosaline knew without a doubt that Livia would be well cared for.  She gathered the dress, now properly covered, into her arms before offering it to her sister.  “Oh, thank you! Now, what about you?”

Glancing around, Rosaline spotted a little shop selling jewelry and trinkets.  “I have yet to find the perfect necklace to wear for the wedding ceremony.  Will you help me?”  Livia grinned and nodded, practically dancing across the market in her excitement.  

“Lady Rosaline, a moment?”

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Return To Me.

Can be found on AO3 and FF.net, also this chapter under the cut….

Summary: What would you do if you woke up tomorrow with the last 5 years of your memories gone? After an unfortunate accident, Oliver Queen must figure out his place in a life he has no memory of whilst his wife, Felicity, does everything she can to support him. With emotions, secrets and relationships pushed to the limits; will love and friendship be enough to turn back the hands of time?

Authors Note: As always thank you all so much for all the support, it means more than I can ever say so I shall post this chapter early for you guys. This is a beast of a chapter at over 7,000 words! But hopefully it has some of the answers you’re all looking for. As always this story is painful but I hope you do enjoy…

Chapter 10: The Past Truth.

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Strength Enough To Build A Home - Bellamy x Clarke - oneshot

What makes a family? Don’t ask. Bellarke, from other people’s point of view.

Dedicated to Jordan <3

Strength Enough To Build A Home

Jasper dreads it whenever Clarke’s in a bad mood, because she always takes it out on Bellamy, who in turn takes it out on everybody else.

So, one morning, when Clarke’s even-I-can’t-believe-how-pissed-off-I-am-right-now voice breaks the forest stillness, it’s mere instinct on Jasper’s part that prompts him to sigh and steel himself for whatever bullshit errand Bellamy will undoubtedly send him on in the very near future.

What he gathers from Clarke’s tirade is that some people have been busted for sneaking out. They couldn’t have picked a worse time, because the princess was up all night nursing the bedridden victims of a nasty flu outbreak and, thus, she is in no mood to gently rebuke.

Jasper hears Bellamy march up and demand, “What’s going on here?” Quick as a flash, Clarke rounds on him, and there’s the patter of scurrying feet as the other kids make themselves scarce.

Firewood, Jasper thinks miserably. Bellamy’s going to make me chop enough firewood to burn down a small kingdom.

The tent flap lifts upon Monty’s return from the bathroom. “Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he complains, rubbing his bleary eyes.

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A Week Early Part 3

Prompt: How about part 3 to “A Week Early” but told from John’s POV… like he is watching Sherlock with the new baby and the wife and he is happy for them?

Fluffers, as requested.

John’s heart had almost failed him when he’d received Sherlock’s “Come at once!” text. He’d never made it to Baker Street so quickly, taking the stairs two at a time, the sounds of a crying infant spurring him on even faster.

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Hey, uh, so this is a shoutout to my homies the gods above who made a magic sword, and had both Jack’s father and Jack himself take on the mantle of killing Aku, the dark remains of the evil they once fought. Hey guys? Guys? I know you’re listening, you’re omnipresent.

PUT ASHI RIGHT BACK OR SO HELP ME

Well, where we off to now, Jack?

Jack doesn’t deserve this. Ashi didn’t deserve to fade out. Each of them deserved happiness after what they went through. I’m distressed.

Hey ladybug. I remember you leading Ashi to discover the beauty of the world. Can you find her for us?

I guess it’s symbolism for letting go.

Hey so what about that timeline full of living beings that Jack and Ashi just aborted? All the people in that? How their souls doing?

I guess we’ll never know.

Okay, well, that’s Samurai Jack. Should I try and make a big post of its conclusion? I don’t know if I successfully can. Let’s start with the obvious, this is a 10/10 episode, that’s without question. Everything that went into it made it that.

In spite of that the conclusion is… not to my taste. Am I a sucker for wanting a happy ending? Maybe. But I did and not getting it is upsetting. Though upsetting is the intention of this ending, so it’s difficult to tell whether it’s upset within the bounds of the story, or outside of it.

Some might call my hypocritical for being upset given I wasn’t the biggest fan of the decision to have Jack and Ashi form a romantic relationship, but my logic is: since it’s already happened, the best thing I can do is want the best for them. I did, and instead we got TTGL’d in the end. Is anyone being spoiled by me describing it that way? I hope not.

This show was very good throughout, of course. One or two miss episodes, but far more hits. I enjoyed it, and I’m glad it was brought to a conclusion, not left hanging in an eternal unfinished state. I will not look back on having given the time I did to this show poorly. No not at all.

If I think of more to say I might make a final post, but for now I think I’ll start posting these up to my blog. What’s next, you many who ask are wondering? I’ve almost finished catching up on Voltron as well, and I think I’ll take a few weeks break from liveblogging after that. Once I’m back, I’ve got three shows that have caught my eye as things I want to check out: Cowboy Bebop, Miraculous Ladybug and Little Witch Academia. I’ll probably do all three, but the order is not yet determined. We’ll see when we see.

For those of you who were only here for Samurai Jack all along, thanks for riding with me. For those of you sticking around beyond that, I hope to continue creating content that can entertain. Liveblogging is fun, but remember that I do quite a variety of different things. Shop around! Maybe there’s some content somewhere I make that appeals. That’s my goal, after all. That’s my goal.

That’s it for Samurai Jack. I had a good time. I hope you did too.

See you for whatever comes next.

See you, Time Samurai.

anonymous asked:

Sometimes I think I should just stay off tumblr after an episode cause it has a nasty habit of making me feel bad about an episode I liked, like tonight's. There were definitely some things I'd change, like unnecessary Elizabeth angst, but it is a tv show that needs ratings so I understand why, somewhat. Would have liked a little more romelza but hopefully that's coming. But overall I thought it was fabulous, reminded me of series 1 in some ways & I really appreciate your perspective!

They may also have been trying to ramp up tension towards the churchyard scene?  I forget how that plays out in the books but maybe… a lot of the angst though felt more like angst over the mess he’s made of things rather than over Elizabeth herself, do you think?  I am a little afraid though that they will try to make the Hugh thing be out of spite for Ross’ lingering feelings for Elizabeth, rather than being the mostly unrelated affair that it was in the books. 

Hi anon. I have to admit to agreeing with you, at least over 3.01 - I almost felt as if I was watching a different show to some people!

Like you, there were definitely things I would have changed in the episode. I’m not an Elizabeth fan, so I could have done without some of the lingering shots of her looking angsty and pouting, but on the other hand I did like the building conflict between her and George over Geoffrey Charles, which is there in the novel, though rarely expressed as an actual scene (more glossed over in narration). On a similar basis, I liked the change with Geoffrey Charles, with him seeking out Ross and not accepting George’s edict that he should have nothing to do with the Nampara Poldarks. It’s not in the book, but I think it works quite well, especially in the contact of show!Ross not having firmly closed the book on the part of his life connected to Trenwith.

On that note, I know a lot of people are unhappy with Ross’s behaviour and his treatment of Demelza. So am I! In The Black Moon, he has definitely learned his lesson, pays her so much more attention, and they’re close and affectionate and flirtatious. However, bear in mind the changes in series two. Firstly, Demelza was much more vocally angry with Ross, and secondly, the reconciliation was much shorter than in the novel. It happened as a crisis point, rather than the slower growing back together of the book (and yes, there was a crunch point in the book too, but it happened slightly differently). And there was a lot missed out, in 2.10. Ross’s bargain with George, for one, and also an emotional note of coming to terms with that all being done with, of being too old and too prosperous to bother keeping up an active feud. That was important, because it has a bearing on the situation with Drake and Morwenna. That still needed to happen. So that was carried across into 3.01. And because that was carried across, so too was some of Ross’s emotional conflict and confusion over Elizabeth and the situation at Trenwith. Not because he still loves her, but because there is, and always will be, a tie to her as mother of Geoffrey Charles, as Francis’s wife, as his former love. So yes, his angst seemed much more over the whole sorry mess than about Elizabeth herself.

Do I wish he and Demelza had already reconciled properly, that the delightful conversation about Demelza’s pregnancy had still happened? Of course. However, bearing in mind what I’ve said above, I wasn’t entirely surprised that they weren’t back in happy, contented conjugal bliss. They aren’t quite there yet. What I’m hoping is that Demelza’s pregnancy, and the birth of Clowance, and Ross’s firm decision to steer clear of George and anything to do with George, will let them begin a new chapter together - happier, more settled. Demelza more confident that he really has chosen her, and that he doesn’t regret his choice. The angst over Valentine not forgotten, but shelved away by Ross’s clear determination to treat him as George’s son, and to ignore the possibility that Valentine is his own. That’s what I’m hoping. Because otherwise, as you say, Demelza’s affair with Hugh becomes more about revenge and spite, and by her own admission (in the book), that doesn’t play any part in it.

In terms of the churchyard scene: I have thought for a long time that people put far, far too much emphasis on it. There is nothing in that scene that’s a betrayal, on Ross’s part, excepting only his failure to tell Demelza about it. It’s again a kind of closure - for both Ross and Elizabeth - and an acknowledgement of the unknown paternity of Valentine. I’m sure they’ll keep it in s3, in some form, but I think we as fans and readers need to de-emphasise it. It’s less important than other things that happen. Ross’s relationship with Elizabeth is, and becomes, far far less important than his relationship with George. So yes, maybe they’re building tension towards that, but I hope not. I hope it’s far more about Hugh Armitage. Because Ross has now declaimed all responsibility for Elizabeth, has given up all right to be concerned for her. He has said quite plainly to George - and I believe him - that his concern is, and will remain, focused on Agatha and Geoffrey Charles.

Anyway. I agree with you about the episode feeling, in some ways, like series one. Particularly in terms of Demelza: her joy for Caroline and Dwight is so genuine, so heartfelt, and I loved the closeness already evident between her and Drake. I know we all wish she and Ross had been that happy, but how could anyone be disappointed with her having such happiness, whatever the cause? Just adorable.

I may be proved wrong with all of this. I’m prepared to be proved wrong. I know I’m very much ‘glass half full’ about tv shows and things. I found so much to love that I can overlook (at least for now) the things that jarred or that I have reservations about. In a week or two, I may come back to this post and rage and growl over the problems the episode set up and the lack of resolution. But at the moment, I’m still prepared to trust the show, and wait and see where it’s going.

Thank you for the prompt, @teiranlavellan! It made me super happy that you said this, my Cass doesn’t get much attention <3 and it’s such a cute prompt that it went to the top of my list! I hoped to answer you with the prompt fill that week, but that didn’t work :( Sorry.

I have a modern AU I want to write for these two someday, so this is like a prequel to that I guess?

There was this part that was going to be going through airport security, and this other part where the plane it oversold and they take her ticket, but then the stuff with United happened and I didn’t like it anymore

Belatedly for @dadrunkwriting


Cedric was standing in line at the airport, waiting to check his bag. The line was long, but there were plenty of… assistants? Whatever the term was for the people who check in your bags, so the line was going quickly. Or, at least it did, until some Nevarran woman started holding it up.

“Yes, I know I’ve already checked my bag, I was there. But I forgot to put my firearm into my luggage and I highly doubt security will let me take it to the gate, so I if you could just retrieve my bag—”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your luggage is already on the plane,” explained the unfortunate attendant, simply trying to do his job.

“It is not on the plane—it went down that conveyor belt not two minutes ago; your service is not so prompt as that. Go back there and look, it’s the bag with the silk handkerchief tied at the top.”

“Ma’am, the conveyor belts go directly to the tarmac. It’s gone.”

“Then what do you suggest I do with my weapon? I can’t very well leave it here!”

The next attendant motioned for Cedric, her face full of apologies on behalf of the commotion. Cedric made sure to wear a friendly grin as he greeted her, handing over the ID and tickets he had ready. He pulled his bag onto the scale, and then had a thought.

He had time, while the employee processed his paperwork, so he quickly opened his suitcase and pulled his carry-on off of his shoulder.  He dumped the contents of his shoulder bag into the larger one, checking all the pockets. He zipped his suitcase back up, standing it in time for it to take its turn on the conveyor belt.  

With a nod and a “Have a good one!” he strode away, towards the loud, armed woman.

“Ma’am—”

Detective. Or Special Agent Pentaghast, if you’d prefer.”

Cedric walked over to the irate woman, now irritated himself. It always rubbed him the wrong way when people were unkind to the staff—as someone from a wealthy family, it was a problem he saw often. And he recognized the name ‘Pentaghast’.

“Here you go, Princess,” he said condescendingly as he deposited his now-empty shoulder bag on the counter in front of her. She turned to him in surprise, and the rest of the words he would have said left his head.

Holy shit, she was gorgeous.

“And just what am I supposed to do with this?”

Right. That. “Pack you gun, check the bag, and move on with your day,” he explained.

“But this is not my bag.”

“It is now.” The man behind the counter looked distressed, and Cedric sighed. He should not be trying to provoke the woman further. “Consider it a donation to the force in a time of need. Just doing my civic duty.”

Officer Pentaghast crossed her arms. “I cannot accept it.”

“Well I’m not taking it back!” he snapped, and stomped off. He had his own plane to catch.

He was sorely tempted to look behind him, so make sure the ridiculous woman wasn’t refusing the solution out of spite, but he resisted the urge.

~~~~~

Cedric made it through security just fine, and was headed for his gate when it occurred to him that all of his in-flight entertainment was now packed away in his checked bag. He saw a small bookstand, and stopped to browse for a bit. In the end, he selected some ridiculous Tethras bodice-ripper. It looked newly published, so hopefully when he was done with it one of his sisters would have room for it in their collection; at least two of his sisters read this series, he was sure.

By the time he boarded the plane he had put the incident with Detective Pentaghast out of his mind (or, at least, tried to—it was hard not to think of a woman like that.) He was one of the last First Class passengers to make his way on, moving at a leisurely pace.

Honestly, he should have expected to see the woman sitting there, in the seat next to his. He double-checked his seat number, just to be sure. Lovely.

She looked even less happy to see him.

He had to squeeze past her to get to his windowseat, unpleasantly aware that his butt was at the same level as her face.

She watched him as he sat and buckled the seatbelt, up until he met her eyes with an arched eyebrow. Her gaze darted away, but returned only a second later. “I should thank you, for before.”

“Yes, you should,” he replied dryly.

“Right.Well, I thank you. It was an effective solution, and generous of you.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it—I didn’t do it for you.”

He expected her to take offense to that, but she nodded calmly. “Even so.”

Silence followed, or as much silence as could be expected on a plane gradually filling with people. After nearly a minute she sighed with an irritated huff. “This is awkward, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“My name is Cassandra.” She twisted in her seat to offer her hand.

He shook it, and wondered if she was purposely gripping his hand painfully hard, or if that was normal for her. “Cedric.”

More silence. She shifted in her seat.

Eventually, she said, “I have to be in court tomorrow, for a hearing. I cannot be late. It was important that I did not miss this flight.”

Maker. She wasn’t going to spend the entire flight trying to redeem herself, was she?

Well, at least she knew she had made a spectacle of herself. “You don’t have to explain. We’re all on this flight for a reason.”

“Yes, but I—” She was interrupted by the flight attendant announcing the safety procedures over the speakers. Cassandra was quiet for a few second afterwards and Cedric thought that that would be the end of it, but as soon as he opened his book she spoke up again. “To be honest with you, Cedric, I was most concerned about my dog. I had not arranged for anyone to feed him tonight, because I was not expecting to be gone so long. It would have been a challenge to find someone, on such short notice.”

He was sorely tempted to point out why she might not have a lot of friends to rely on, but he resisted the urge. “I’m glad your dog will be alright. I’d have hated for him to go hungry.”

She nodded, and the sound of the plane engine revving for takeoff made talking difficult. He turned the page.

As soon as they were in the air she spoke up again. “Is that the new Swords and Shields?”

He sighed immediately. “Really, Princess, we don’t have to talk. I help you, you thanked me; let’s move on.”

Her cheeks flared red as her gaze drifted away, and he worried he’d gone too far. “I was only curious. I am… A fan of the series, myself.”

“Oh.” This time he was the one to shift uncomfortably. “I think it’s new. I’ve never read one of these things before, but I thought I would give it a chance.”

“Oh,” she parroted. “I hope you enjoy it, then. You really should start at the beginning, of course… But the books can stand alone. They can be… Cheesy, perhaps, but they’re worth it.”

He smiled, and relaxed. She did seem genuine, now, not like she was forcing it. “My sisters say the same thing—the two that read the series, anyway.”

“The two? How many do you have?”

“Oh, five and a half? Six?”

Cassandra gave him a queer look, and he laughed. “I have five full-sisters, and a half-sister. All older than me.”

“I cannot even imagine growing up with so many! How did you survive?”

“Oh, I could tell you some stories…” he said, and he did. She laughed, and returned the favor with her own vastly different stories of her older brother. That three hour flight passed far too quickly for his taste.

Echo

Echo by thatsmistertoyou

Pairing: Phan (danisnotonfire x AmazingPhil)

Genre: angst

Warnings: alcohol

Words: 2060

Summary: In the aftermath of their breakup, Phil presents Dan with a choice.

A/N: Thanks to silverluminosity, hearteyeshowell, and mnmminifunsized for their help <3 [Read on AO3 if you prefer.]

Phil had always thought that the multiverse theory, in all of its majesty and complexity, could offer one thing to the average person: hope. Hope that everything and anything was possible, and even if something didn’t turn out as one planned, it had turned out alright for someone.

It was a mind-boggling concept, really, and not one that ought be thought about when one was staring down the bottle of their third or fourth Smirnoff Ice - but there Phil was, slumped over on the floor of the kitchen. He finished the bottle off, set it down on the floor a bit harder than he should have, and rested his head back against the fridge.

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The Wrestle, Ch. V

But I know that you’re a
Timid love beneath the skin.

The morning passed and crept along with a mist that smothered the damp grass that sizzled in the final day of summer. In the fog of the morning, Clarke crept along the damp paths, past the small garden she and her mother worked hard to create, and beyond that, the field before the wall, and even beyond that, once she left the gates with just her bag filled with a few pieces of fruit and a book, she passed finally the tall trees, like heavy, slumbering sentinels blanketed by new and creeping moss, humming in the slowly meandering mist. By the time she reached the field brimming with tall grass, the sun lifted its head somewhere behind the wall of the forest and filtered in, making the last drops of dew glow gold, like embers, like the entire sun was consumed by the field.

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