it sounds like a damn threat

anonymous asked:

Can you do something where the Avengers come back thinking everything is going to just go back to the way it was. With them bullying Tony and blaming him for everything, but SURPRISE! Tony is now surrounded by a bunch of new Avengers recruits that love and care for him and in a relationship with Stephen Strange. And all of them are really protective of Tony especially The Cloak of Levitation.

ReRe likes. ReRe likes very much!! *cackles* And okay, to give Team Cap a break, maybe they don’t come back expecting things to be exactly the same. It’s just that the things that have changed aren’t the ones they’ve expected to and that’s why it takes them so completely by surprise.

For one, it’s not actually Tony they have the most arguments with. It’s just that when Tony makes a suggestion during a meeting, people speak up to back his side up or just calmly point out the risks without immediately discarding the general idea, and suddenly everyone is discussing the pros and cons of a plan that would’ve been blindly shot down a year ago. It’s a subtle shift, at first, but it really changes the dynamics of those meetings. Because Tony suddenly isn’t always on the defence, people are appreciating and defending his ideas and getting into arguments without him being any part in it–and that, frankly, should’ve been a huge freaking clue that something’s changed.

To Natasha, the most obvious change is how much less tense Tony is. He still doesn’t react too well to the old team, is always sharper and snippier with them, but as long as someone else is around, he doesn’t–sink into himself the way he used to. 

But even so, it takes a lot of hard, painful lessons for the old team to really understand how different things are now.

The first time Steve yells at Tony in the aftermath of a pretty bad battle is memorable. It’s also how the old newcomers learn that the thick cloak Tony’s been obsessively wearing ever since their arrival is less of a fashion statement and more of a magical item that does not react well to any perceived threat towards Tony. They manage to keep it from suffocating Steve, but only just.

(After that, the Cloak keeps making this really weird noise whenever Steve comes too close into its vicinity, which Steve swears sounds like a growl.)

The first time Clint makes a sharp comment regarding Tony’s tendency to put his own team mates into jail if it gives him an advantage is the day they learn about Spiderman’s ability to web someone’s mouth shut. They also learn that the sticky webs are damn painful to remove.

(Clint also has a tendency to be ‘caught’ by Spiderman’s webs during battle when he gets snippy over the comms. Which is actually pretty admirable, since technically Spiderman does keep him from breaking his neck by sticking him to a wall instead of letting him fall five stores down because Iron Man and Falcon are otherwise occupied.)

The first time Scott marches up to Tony and punches him in the face, Rhodey gets up on shaky legs to stands without help for the first time since his fall all those months ago, just to personally whack the man over the head with his crutches, then call security and have his ass banned from the Tower.

The first time Wanda lets her hands to glow red whilst glaring at Tony they all learn that whatever you do, you do not piss of Stephen Strange. Wanda wasn’t seen for seventy-four hours and ever since she resurfaced, she’s refused to even look into Tony’s direction. Nobody knows what happened, but everyone knows it was bad.

It’s the first time Steve grabs a hold of Tony’s hand to keep him from walking away though, that’s the most memorable of them all. That’s when they learn that as much as their new members want to protect Tony (and succeed to a certain degree), he doesn’t actually need it. Because not only is he completely capable of ranting at Steve until the guy looks about two inches tall, he’s also wearing repulsor wrist bands and clearly not afraid to use them.

(Because I couldn’t resist, I love others being protective of Tony but I love Tony appreciating but not being dependant on their protection even more)

anonymous asked:

Hi :) I know everyone's going on about Kiwi being about babygate, but I really think it might be about the music industry in general, using stunts as an inspiration. If you consider the female in the song being the industry it makes sense because it appears in a way tempting and desireable (but in the end it's really not as great as it seems), but he is also being pushed and has no control (and will in a way regret getting involved with it). I love your blog and I hope you'll consider the idea!

Hi!

Thank you for your kind words.

Your point about the music industry is a really good one. I think “Kiwi” is, in a way, about the unsavory aspects of the industry.

“MMITH” expresses the ambivalence of being caught in between– wanting to advance, but knowing there are consequences. It can be interpreted as an addiction of sorts (with mentions of morphine).

“Kiwi” offers another take on this addiction. The metaphor is an addiction to the sort of girl/ love that everyone likes.

The cigarettes, the intellect, the hard liquor, the marks of a glamorous rock ‘n roll life– the groupies, the available sex, the available drugs (so much cocaine, it can constantly fill up the Holland Tunnel!)– they all seem like irresistible lures. All the boys (the musicians) are drawn to it. These are the goodies associated with a rocker’s life, and glamorized by journalists like Cameron Crowe.

But the beautiful girl is an illusion. The music industry is a façade, like a beautiful girl who goes home to a cactus– a plant that requires no maintenance. It’s a plant for lonely people who want companionship without the work. It’s an empty life.

The girl is an actress, someone whose warmth is completely fake.

She’s like the music industry executives, managers, PR machine who talk about taking care of musicians, but really just want their baby– their music, their revenue.

“I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business.”

The music executives seduce the musicians and take their babies. They behave like prostitutes. But instead of a straightforward sex transaction, where a customer pays for sex, and the sex-worker gets money, in this case, the executives just want the product. They want the music and the revenue. They don’t care how they get it.

“It’s none of your business.”

Once the baby is conceived, the industry takes care of business, the financial aspects. It’s out of the musicians’ hands.

The ironic, bitter reference to babygate isn’t so different from this interpretation, really.

Stunts are a way for the industry boosts revenue, through PR.

Fans are interested in stunts. Stunts fan the fandom flame. Stunts keep the fandom alive when there’s no music. Stunts stir emotions.

This isn’t limited to the 1D fandom. Almost every celebrity pairing can represent a stunt, always tied to selling something– an album, a movie, a project.

Fake relationships are par for the course. We’ve seen many of them. In fact, reviewers and interviewers can’t stop referring to Taylor Swift. Stunts have legs (pun intended). A two-month stunt can create news for years. Pathetic, right? But there’s money in it.

Can stunts go too far? Fake babies, for instance?

“I’m having your baby.”

Do these words refer to a real-life situation?

The words are so specific, and so connected to the One Direction fandom, that I don’t see how they can represent an innocent metaphor. Every reviewer states that these are strange words.

But they’re not RANDOMLY strange. They’re pointedly, knowingly, bitterly, coyly strange.

The words are savage, and sung in a savage way.

The words sound like a threat and a boast.

I’m having your baby. What are you going to do about it? Nothing, because it’s out of your hands. You signed on the dotted line. You’re going to pay and pay, and there’s not a damn thing you can do.

I don’t think Harry is making fun of Louis’s situation, at all. I think he’s FURIOUS. Louis is suffering unimaginably, and Harry sees it. He suffers too. It’s a call-out to the people who put them in this situation.

Who pushed the Babygate narrative hardest? Who was earliest with the news?

Answer: the media associated with 1DHQ.

Who in the celebrity gossip media most associated with 1DHQ?

Dan Wooton.

Where is he from?

New Zealand. He’s a Kiwi.

I don’t know if this is the correct guess, but it’s something @larry-god-mother told me, and I think it’s pretty brilliant!

2

Purgatory Revelations 

Characters: Dean x Reader, Benny, mention of Cas

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 605

A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-versary Celebration Fic TWENTY-TWO. The line requested was,  “Be strong in the moments you want to be weak.” It was requested by  @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid. It will be highlighted in the fic. Thank you for celebrating with me.  This is a quick little story that just kind of happened. It was inspired by the gif above submitted by @jesstherebel I hadn’t even planned on writing tonight. Hope you guys like it. 

Keep reading

MariChat May Day5: Captain’s Log (The Baton)

Okay, so I haven’t written fanfiction in a while. A LONG WHILE. And I’ve been sucked into reading Miraculous Fanfic since January, which means I’ve been holding out. So bear with me okay? For @baneismydragon  ‘s MariChat May Collab

________________

Marinette steeples her fingers as she leans across her desk, keeping her gaze stolidly forward as to not stare at the object just inches from her elbows. Her fingers rest at eye height causing her to focus on how light plays on her fingers, the translucency of skin and how she can probably play around dyeing fabric to simulate the watercolor-esque beauty of light and life. Alya would look perfect in the dress, Marinette adds, anything to keep her gaze from slipping. Anything to keep her mind from drifting to…

Chat.

Ugh. It’s too late now; Marinette should just embrace it like Tikki said. She feels Tikki’s worried buzz a foot or so away, taking slow, quiet bites from her plate of cookies to give her some peace.  It’s not working.

She leans forward, cupping her face in her hands and lets out a muffled groan.

“Can my yo-yo do this?” She breathes, jerking back as she grabs hold of Chat’s baton. In. Out. In. Out. She has to remind herself to keep breathing; otherwise, she’ll panic, then things will spiral out of control and turn into a mess.

“Of course!” Tikki chirps. “But it’s not like you need it. You already keep a diary with a lock of your own creation! You don’t need magic to keep your secrets safe.” She beams proudly at Marinette, and her charge tries to get a sense of relief.

“But why does Chat have one?” The question is damning for Marinette. When she hears the words escape her voice, she feels the sob clawing at her throat, she hates the threat and demand that tightens her vocal chords. The sound of it scares her, so she tries to play it off with a laugh. “I mean, what dumb boy keeps a diary?”

“Not all Chat Noir’s keep a diary, Marinette, but it’s asked that they do.” Tikki sets aside her cookie and floats to Marinette’s side. She sits just on top of the computer, forcing the young hero to lift her gaze.

“Why?” Marinette asks again, gripping the metal too tight, her gaze once again fixed on the glowing paw.

“Because he’s Chat Noir,” Tikki says as if that should explain it all.

“And they only do as they’re told?” Marinette is on her feet, kicking back her chair and glaring at Tikki. “Or because he’s bad luck and – and – and all he can do is ju-just wait for something bad to happen to him?”

Tikki cocks her head to the side, staring at Marinette with a vague curiosity. The hero knows this look; it’s the look Tikki gives when she’s about to throw out some ancient god history-information-whatever that Marinette should have known the moment she put on the earrings.

“Where do you think your luck comes from?” Tikki asks, folding her arms across her lap. It’s a calm question, one that lines itself with a quiet threat as if to say, ‘do not blame this on me.’

“You give it.” Marinette waves one hand. “I have it.” She waves the other. “I don’t know!”

“There’s a reason Chat Noir and Ladybug fight side by side together. They are a balance of creation and destruction, good luck and bad, give and take. You are equals in that sense. You both take what is given. Chat Noir’s gladly give their luck to those who need it more. They willingly take the bad because they believe in their hearts their purpose is to weather the pain. Ladybugs take luck in whatever form it comes in and throw away the bad because they know their luck will help others. Ladybugs are all about helping others.” Tikki soothes as if knowing this is supposed to be a comfort.

“How do I stop it?” Marinette asks. “I don’t want him taking it from me. We’re a team; we have an equal luck of each kind.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Marinette.”

“Then how does it work?” She snaps, throwing her arms out wildly. The baton slips from her hand and clatters to the ground. It pops open, showing a green screen with a list of numbers and time stamps.

“Whoah! What’s this?” Marinette freezes, hearing Chat Noir’s voice comes from the baton now rolling under her chaise. “Star Date–no–Captain’s Log…”

She dives for it, skidding on her rug. She hears his recorded laugh and finds the wind knocked out of her. She no longer has the strength to move.

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles some minutes later, causing her breath to hitch. “Log three. And I want to say this super important thing before I forget: My Lady made a pun. Not just any pun. She managed three puns in a single sentence! That’s practically im-paw-sible!” He laughs. “I think she’s warming up to this cat. I can see it meow, Chat Noir and Ladybug getting married under the Eiffel Tower!”

“Sap.” Marinette glares at the floor, curling into herself. She knows, in the beginning, the logs are short. They’re mere seconds and glimpses of moments long forgotten. She knows there are hundreds of entries in his baton and most of them are locked. She suspects those recordings have mentions of his civilian life. She wants to know more about him, but there’s a reason Chat Noir’s locked the file. There’s a reason why her diary is sealed in its box right now.

“Dear Diary,” Chat Noir says with a lovesick sigh. Marinette’s lip twitches into a scowl. She’s listened to this recording half a dozen times. “I’ve teamed up with Marinette again today and let’s just say; she’s a very bad actress. Or good, depending on how you see it.” He laughs. “So get this, she’s been acting. ACTING like she thinks I’m this super grand hero–which by the way, I am, no need to tell you that–and it’s kind of a bummer, really. Sure, I have fans, but the first few times I partnered with Marinette, she seemed to be my fan. Not ‘oh I love Ladybug and Chat Noir but mostly Ladybug!’ It was about me.”

He sighs before forcing out a laugh. “And yeah I know, it sounds narcissistic that I was excited over a fan that liked me more than Ladybug but you have to understand: Marinette doesn’t really talk to me. Not in civilian form. I’m worried she might hate me. In my normal life, she gives away her time and attention like it doesn’t cost her anything like she has all of it and then some to spare. And-“ He laughs again. “I know she doesn’t. She’s always running late for things or caught up in an Akuma attack or doing this or that. But when she’s with someone she’s there, nothing can make her move. And sure she talks about Ladybug but only when her friend Alya forces the issue. She’ll talk about me in a heartbeat.

“So I was glad, thinking she was mine. My-my fan, I mean. It turns out; she’s an Adrien fan. A BIG Adrien fan. I saw the hearts doodled on the posters.” Marinette can imagine his Cheshire grin and wants to smack it off his face. “She has no room for a poor stray like me.” He swoons. “Anyway, she dropped the act the moment I commented on her doodles. Who knew Marinette could be so sassy?” He laughs. “She reminds me a bit of My Lady with that attitude. I kind of like honest Marinette but I might ask her to pretend to be my fan, her swooning needs a bit of work.” He cackles before the recording abruptly moves to the next file.

Heavy breathing. Marinette grips the short fibers of her rug as tight as possible between his fingers. Chat curses from somewhere beneath her chaise. “Ah-“ He hisses. “Crap. No, wait, I shouldn’t curse but damn this stings.” He heaves a heavy breath. “I thought the magic prevents us from getting hurt. I thought this suit was practically bomb proof.” He hisses. Marinette can hear the sound of his baton sticking to rooftops and extending. He curses again. “Dad’s going to kill me. My Lady’s going to kill me. I shouldn’t have tried to do this on my own.” He whimpers.

The baton hits something metal; then there’s a grunt and crash, the tinkling of pottery breaking as Chat groans and hisses. “Ow.” He repeats over and over.

“Who’s there?” Marinette squeezes her eyes tight as she hears herself on the recording. “Chat?” She hesitates. “Chat!” Marinette can remember that night. Chat had been clutching his side “Oh my god, you’re bleeding. I thought the magic–”

“So did I.” Chat wheezed. Marinette remembers that day so many months ago. She pulled him through the trapdoor and resting him on her bed that he got blood all over her sheets, which she later explained as a ‘time of the month’ mishap to her maman. She bandaged him, brought him food and water and let him rest in her bed. She sat at the foot of it for the longest time, just watching over his pained sleeping form.

The following recordings are a series of highs and lows. There are moments he’s never been happier to be Chat Noir and moments he’s injured in some shape or form, crawling to her house.

“I’m not a real doctor you know.” She hears herself grumble in one of the recordings. It’s her only real complaint when he comes needing a field dressing; she can’t give him the proper care he needs.

“You’re purrfect, Princess. I’ll be the Cat’s Meow come morning; I just need a little glue holding me together until then.” Chat hums.

The next recording starts out quiet. Marinette knows it’s been months since his first injury and this one. If she strains her ears, she can hear the chatter of the streets and honking of cars below. She thinks she can hear Chat breathe. “Okay,” He says in a breath followed by the awkward scrambling sound of his baton being moved. There’s an ache in his voice, something painful that draws out the words slowly. “Tonight’s been,” He hesitates, “full of discoveries. I just found out some news from Plagg and something else.

“I guess I’ll start with the easiest bit: I like Marinette.” Marinette’s breath hitches in her throat again; she’s replayed this part too many times to count. “And I still love Ladybug. That’s complicated,” He scoffs, “all of this is complicated. She’s pretty, beautiful even, did I ever tell you that? And it’s not just physical, though that doesn’t hurt, she has a beautiful personality? Soul? She’s just all around beautiful. I’ve been visiting her for a while now: before patrol, after patrol, after attacks, even if I’m not injured. She’s always there, and we can talk about anything, which is a change from both my lives.” He sighs a little dreamily. “You should see her when we talk, her eyes lock onto me, and they don’t look away, and then I can’t look away. Her eyes have, like, a million shades of blue. How’s that possible?” He’s silent for a three count before he whispers, “I don’t know what to do.

“And then there’s what Plagg told me.” Chat groans, his voice slightly muffled, no doubt dragging a hand across his face in a moment Marinette is forced to imagine. “There’s a reason I’ve been getting hurt in the suit. It’s partially Hawkmoth’s fault, part Kwamii ‘nature of the beast,’ part my own stubbornness.

“I take bad luck. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. That’s okay; My Lady needs all the luck in the world to save Paris. I’m already pretty lucky outside the suit, a little extra bad luck won’t kill me,” He exhales sharply as a worried tone creeps in,“will it?” Another pause and he seems almost back to normal.

“Anyway, what with Hawkmoth akumatizing people like crazy lately- five in one day, who does that- My Lady’s been needing some extra luck to finish those battles, which means extra bad luck comes my way, which weakens the suit. Plagg said it doesn’t always happen; some Chat Noir’s never have to go through this, it just depends on how much we have to fight.” He sighs, and Marinette can imagine him running a clawed hand through his hair. She curls around herself even tighter because if he were beside her, she’d be hugging him and making stupid promises of never letting go.

“We have to find Hawkmoth,” Chat says, suddenly determined. “If I do that then the bad luck won’t affect as much. I can still be Chat Noir, Ladybug won’t be worried about me, and I can still be around Marinette. Sound like a plan? Great.”

The following logs are more professional, dates, times, and coordinates of places he checked for Hawkmoth’s lair. He mentions briefly if he’s been injured or if he’s visited Marinette.

“I think I know what home feels like.” Chat tells the recorder. He grunts occasionally, and Marinette knows he’s jumping across rooftops. The background noise is minimal, something she’s timed perfectly to the early morning. “I guess I’ve forgotten since my Mom disappeared. Damn, this is a beautiful morning, should I go back and wake her? I really want Marinette to see this.

“It’s, ah, December third, six thirty in the morning and the sunrise is amazing. I’ve, um, just left Marinette’s place,” He laughs awkwardly, and Marinette can just see him reaching to rub the back of his neck out of nervousness. “Last night I got injured more than usual.” His voice is a steadier, which tells her he’s stopped leaping around. “It was awful,” He admits, “And Marinette patched me up, but I wasn’t in any condition to leave so she let me sleep in her bed, like always. This time was different than always. There was the usual stuff; I kept the suit on because Plagg speeds up the healing, I slept on the right side of the bed, against the wall. I wasn’t sleeping, not really. I was in too much pain for that. So Marinette decides to crawl under the covers with me. She tells me stories of her time with Alya or helping her parents in the bakery, petting my head and holding my hand. She reminds me of my mom when I was sick. Mom used to lay in bed with me even though I was coughing up a storm. She was just there for me, like Marinette, and I realize,” He lets out a wistful sigh, “I haven’t felt this good in really long time.”

Another pause before he rushes out, “Also I purred sometime in the middle of that, so that’s…new. I guess it’s going to be a thing now…”

“Oh Kitten,” Marinette manages a smile, lifting her gaze high enough to see the glowing green baton beneath the chaise. She’ll have to move to get it, but she still can’t find the strength.

“December twenty-first,” Chat huffs. “I’ve been at this for hours, and there hasn’t been a single sighting of Ladybug. I’m tailing Juanita Million to see where she goes next, but there’s no point in attacking if Ladybug isn’t here to help fix everything. Hawkmoth needs to work on his puns: Juanita Million-One in a Million, how can he come up with something so terrible? And princess calls my puns bad.” He makes a couple of quiet jumps before continuing.

“Juanita Million is sort of like Reflecta. She’s changing everyone to look like crystal versions of herself. It’s kind of creepy, really. When she first started attacking she went on a super long villain monolog about how the boy she liked thought she was one of the guys? Or he couldn’t really see her? Or that she was really plain? I don’t know; if I’m honest, I was too busy avoiding her rays to pay attention. No way am I getting stuck in heels again.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle at that.

“Long evil rant short, she’s turning people into crystal reflections of her so she can she can shine bright like a diamond? Or that she’ll be the one to stand out? Again, my attention span was not there.”

“Chat!” Marinette hears her voice faintly over the recording. “Chat Noir! Over here!” She remembers waving at Chat from street level as he bounded from rooftop to rooftop. He was confused at first, seeing an akumatized victim, features faceted in crystal actively searching him out rather than hiding.

“Princess!” Chat yelps. “Princess, did you get caught?”

“What kind of dumb question is that, Chat?” Past Marinette grumbles. “I got transformed into glass, and now I’m constantly being blinded by light being reflected off of me.”

“Well, you sure do light up my life.”

“Chaaatt,” She groans. “I can’t decide if that pun is still better than Juanita Million.”

Chat scoffs. “It’s at least a few Kilowatts better.”

“Chat!”

“Yes, Princess?” He asks sweetly, Marinette hears her past self sigh.

“I don’t think Ladybug’s coming anytime soon; I’m worried she got hit in her civilian form-”

“Like you?”

“Like me.” Past Marinette confirms. “I did overhear Juanita saying only true love’s kiss can break the spell. It was something along the lines of, true love will recognize you in whatever form you’re in.”

“Hey, I’m de-lighted to say I recognized you immediately! That watt to count for something!”

“I’m going to be stuck in this form forever!” Past Marinette continues as if she never heard him. “I mean, what if Adrien doesn’t recognize me? And what? I’ll have to ask him? Without stuttering and flailing and going ‘uh-buh-good-Adrien-noon-after!’ It would be a miracle if I could even manage a ‘Kiss me, if you want to live!’ but that sounds way too Terminator and–”

“Can I act as his stand-in?” Chat asks. “I-I mean it’s worth a shot. I recognized you out of all the other victims, that’s worth something, right?”

“I–” She hesitates. “I don’t know. I guess? Just one little kiss?” 

“Princess,” Chat laughs, “I’m not some frog claiming to be a prince. I’ll have you know I am a cat of the highest pedigree!”

“You still seem like an alleycat to me.” She huffs.

“Meow-ch, Princess! That hurts! It’s just one kiss. If nothing happens then, no harm done, but when you do change back, the only thing you’ll be blinded by is my stunning beauty.”

“Kitty, don’t get full of yourself. It’s just a kiss. Let’s just get it over with, okay?”

There’s silence for what seems like a lifetime to Marinette. She remembers what happened. Kissing him while he wasn’t under Dark Cupids control was different. He was hesitant and unsure, unable to decide if he wanted a quick kiss as promised or something more. But there was electricity, Marinette felt it too, tingling down to her toes. She expected the world to shift beneath her, she tried to blame it on turning back but her eyes were closed, and she had no way of knowing if that was true. He seemed to be searching for something in her, and she had found herself searching too, holding him tight in an attempt to stay upright as his arms pulled her closer and closer.

“Oh,” Past Marinette is the first to break the kiss and the silence that follows. She is breathless and panting.

“Oh.” Chat Noir agrees. “Hey,” His voice cracks a little. “You’re back to your beautiful old self.” A pause Marinette remembers was filled with well-meaning gazes. “You should-uh-hide. Don’t want you turning back again. Who knows if-um- t-true love’s kiss works-uh- a second time.”

“R-right! I’ll, um, just go hide, then.” Pounding footsteps drifts away from the recorder.

“Crap!” Chat Noir hisses. “It’s still recording! Well, uh, I guess cat’s out of the bag. I kissed Marinette.” A pause, “Now how am I gonna explain that to Ladybug?”

Two entries pass, more of the same boring professionalism of previous entries, though there’s a clear lack of mention of whether or not he visited Marinette’s. She knows he didn’t. She waited up every night waiting for him to knock on her trapdoor.

“It’s um, it’s-it’s,” Chat sounds choked up. “It’s December twenty-fourth. It’s the day my Mom went missing. I don’t really remember how it happened and it really hasn’t been that long. She was just gone Christmas day. They assume she went missing the night before. My father’s already moping in front of her portrait. He’ll be there for hours. He’ll remember me some time after lunch tomorrow. That’s… okay, I think? People all have their own way of coping, and that’s my father’s. I just wish we could; I don’t know, cope together. Instead of losing one parent I feel like I’ve lost both and I know that’s not okay.” He sniffles and then heaves a heavy breath. “I’m, I’m going to go patrol. Hawkmoth attacked with four Akuma’s yesterday, and I didn’t have time to visit Marinette. Um, well, who knows what he’s planning. He might akumatize someone again over Christmas, and no one should have a miserable holiday.” He sighs and then mutters, “Even me.”

“Okay,” Chat lets out a hurried whisper as the next recording begins. “Okay, okay, okay. It’s um, damn, what is it again? Oh! It’s Christmas day!” He cheers. “And, I might be skinned alive by my father any minute, and that’s fine. One of my nine lives can handle it.” He laughs. “Still terrified though, that’s why I’m running back now. It’s – ah – early afternoon. I spent the night at Marinette’s place, again. Didn’t mean to, she was on her balcony last night, and she looked so cute, and I wanted to hash out what happened with Juanita Million, and then we talked and talked and oh! She gave me a Christmas present! It’s a green scarf, and it’s so soft and warm. And of course, I forgot to get her a Christmas gift, so I panicked and kissed her. That went on for a while…” He breathes. “We stayed up playing board games after that, let me just say: Princess is a sore loser. Meow-ch. Needless to say, this valiant knight calmed her down with a series of kisses. It was downright heroic of me to do so. Anyway, Mr. Dupain finds us in the morning, both of us having fallen asleep in the middle of a card game and invited me for breakfast. It was paw-some. It was like being part of a family. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng kept feeding me, Marinette goaded her Dad into a round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III. It was great. I lost track of time, and well, here I am, trying to make it back to my room before Father realizes I’m gone. Maybe I can sneak back to Marinette’s later…”

Marinette’s trapdoor creaks open, causing her gaze to drift from the glowing paw to the pale hand flipping the door to the floor. A blonde mop of messy hair slowly comes into view followed by the biggest, dorkiest, and darkest sunglasses she’s ever seen. Maman must have bought those for a costume contest because they’re unmistakably feminine and does not belong to its current wearer.

Chat Noir takes slow steps up the stairs to her room, dressed in Tom’s oversized sweater and pants, he looks like a kitten bundled in blankets. Marinette can see the bruises on his cheeks, the cut on his forehead and the bandages peeking out of his collar. A small little black cat sits on his shoulder, nuzzling into the dark blue sweater.

“January eleventh,” Past Chat’s voice echoes through the room, causing current Chat to stiffen on his way up. “Marinette and I are dating now. I think. I did ask her, but she didn’t really give me a response. All she said is that it’d be hard with me in costume all the time. But then we made out for an hour, so I think we’re okay.” Marinette stares at present Chat, feeling her cheeks warm. “And I think it has to be this way for a while. I don’t think Ladybug will appreciate me revealing my identity to a civilian when we don’t even know each other. Marinette probably would have said yes to my alter ego, but I can’t justify it when she has all those Adrien posters on her wall. She has a crush on a celebrity, a mask of some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m the one who’s honest with her, and I’m glad she likes me, the real me.”

Present Chat crawls on his knees, closing the trap door before joining her on the rug, lying far enough away that only their fingers touch.

“And yeah,” He huffs. “The irony is not lost on me. I wear a mask too. When the time comes to know who I am, Marinette will already know. No matter the name behind it, I’m still her kitten.” Past Chat Noir giggles as current Chat beams fondly. “She calls me kitten,” They say together. “Isn’t that cute?”

Marinette stares at Chat, feeling his gaze but unable to see his radiant green eyes behind those bug-eyed sunglasses. They skew to the side as he rests his head on the floor, his messy hair falling in waves with gravity.

“Shit,” Chat’s recorded curse causes Marinette’s eyes to widen. “Four Akumas in one day again. It’s, ah, n-nearly two in the morning. And it’s, it’s pretty bad. Before Hawkmoth was sending quantity over quality but it looks like he’s managed to get both this time around. I-crap-I was hit clear across the city from the last attack.” His teeth chatter between heavy breaths. “Crashed through two bridges before hitting a boat and falling into the Seine. The Seine, in the middle of winter, how cruel could this Akuma get? Anyway, the Ladybug cure came by maybe ten minutes ago? I don’t know, it’s fuzzy. Everything fuzzy. I remember they repaired the bridge and the boat but just skipped right over me. And that’s, I don’t know, whatever? You’d think a Ladybug would help a stray cat.” He coughs and breathes a wet rattling breath. “Oh man that hurts. I don’t know if I can even see straight. I hope Plagg’s driving this suit, I hope he goes to Marinette. I can’t,” He chokes on a breath, Marinette can hear the blatant pain. “I can’t just disappear on her. I can’t.” He whimpers.

Marinette scrambles for the baton and shuts it tight before past Chat can say another word. She knows there are a few more recordings after that, but she can’t bring herself to listen to them just yet. They’re too close to the present, too close to how Chat looks right now. She knows the most recent one is what she stopped yesterday when he collapsed on her rooftop on the verge of death.

Yesterday was awful. She can still remember the blood staining the terrace, much more than she thought a person could hold. Marinette remembers being frantic, that she clumsily dressed most of his wounds. When Chat passed out, Marinette transformed into Ladybug hoping to give him a miracle; and it worked, somehow, though she’s still not sure how. He was still in bad shape, but his wounds were closed enough that she could call for help from her Papa and Maman to bring Chat inside and treat him properly.

She had to explain why Chat was on her rooftop. Why he kept visiting, why he was getting hurt, and why he came to her of all people. Some questions she answered truthfully; the others she left unanswered, her distress the only thing they need to know.

“You’re out of your suit.” Marinette whispers, clutching the baton tightly to her chest. How can the baton still be here when his suit isn’t? Will it disappear the moment he touches it? She doesn’t want it to disappear; she needs to know what happens next, even though she’s afraid to find out.

“Your parents needed me out of the suit to patch up everything. I’ll change back soon,” Chat promises. “I’m just giving Plagg a little breather. He’s been trying to heal me all day.”

“And now I’m tired and starving.” The little black kwamii flops in Chat’s hair, raising a paw to his forehead. “Woe is me; I’ll never fix Ad-Chat Noir like this. There’s no Camembert in the entire building. I’m too weak to move!”

“Plagg!” Chat warns. “The Dupain-Chengs are nice enough to let us stay in their home. You could be more grateful.”

“I’d be more grateful if I had some cheese.” Plagg grumbles.

“You had some Brie. Besides, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng already said she’d get you some Camembert. It takes a bit to get to the store, so stop complaining.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle. Plagg abruptly lifts himself from Chat’s hair and narrows his eyes at her. “Something funny, Pinky?”

“Nothing,” She tries to suppress a giggle. “You’re, um, just like siblings. I, I don’t have any of my own but Alya and the twins, they’re like that all the time. You guys really like each other, huh?”

“This lovesick kitten?” Plagg makes a gagging noise. “It’s a miracle I even let him put on the ring.”

“Hey!” Chat protests.

“You gonna talk about the audio journal or what?” Plagg ignores Chat’s protest and floats away, no doubt to where Tikki’s hiding. He says this on purpose, Marinette thinks, to steal away time with the other Kwami and layer the young heroes in thick tension.

She stares at the obnoxious sunglasses, feeling his firm gaze. She doesn’t know where to start. She wants to tell him her identity, wants to promise she’ll stop turning into Ladybug so he can keep his luck. But that’s a stupid argument waiting to happen, she doesn’t want to give up being Ladybug, and he definitely won’t let her.

Marinette wants to lecture him about being reckless when he knows he’ll get hurt. Then again, Ladybug has forced those moments more than a few times.

She wants to hold him, but he’s hurt.

She wants to kiss him, but his lips are split in a few places.

Marinette wants to tell him she loves him but he might not believe her. Not with the adrenaline high of him almost dying and the Adrien pictures she still hasn’t taken down. Not with Tikki hiding somewhere nearby.

“I’m scared,” Those two words slip past as tears break free. “Chat,” Marinette whispers. “Chat,” She sobs. “How can – and you – please don’t – I mean, just be – ”

Marinette doesn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” He whispers, calm and soothing as ever. “I’m here, see?” He reaches out, his fingers brushing her cheek. Oh. She’s never touched his bare hand before. She expects claws and cool material, not manicured nails and feverish skin. “We’re okay.”

“No, you’re not.” She chokes out thickly, rubbing furiously at her tears.

“I’m a superhero,” He says it like that’s supposed to assure her. “We all come with tragic backstories, it’s a membership fee.” Marinette scoffs. 

“I agreed to this life, Princess.” He tells her. “I want to do this.”

“I want you to stay with me.” She sobs.

“I am with you.” Chat promises. “There’s nothing scary in that baton, Marinette. Everything that’s on there is gone. It’s over. I’m here right now.” He shifts, hissing as it aggravates something as he pulls Marinette into his arms. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s plenty to worry about, Chat! Do you even hear yourself?”

“No, I don’t.” He admits quietly. “I make those entries, and that’s that.”

“Chat,” Marinette starts and stops as Chat holds her tight, burying his nose into her neck and purring, his last ditch effort to soothe away any pain they both feel.

“Play it, Princess.” He whispers into her back between purrs. “We’ll get through this together.”

Guardian (III)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongdae / Baekhyun

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,982

Summary:  You keep seeing the same guy everywhere you go. In the coffee shop, on the streets, in your philosophy class. It’s getting to the point where you think he’s stalking you - only to realize that maybe there’s something much more mysterious at play here. (AU: Chen is your guardian angel)

Originally posted by desiresehun


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ok listen to me, people, listen

voltron rock band au

  • Keith is the guitarist and is way too obsessed w his guitar like i’m talking he got it custom-made and keeps it locked up and only he has the key and he does some sort of ritual before every show with just him and his guitar and everyone thinks he’s fuckin’ weird but he’s probably some guitar-playing prodigy so they let him do his thing
  • Pidge is the drummer and has wicked arm muscles and they can drum fast enough that ur ears bleed and u just don’t fuck around with Pidge because their constant threat is shoving a drumstick up ur ass and everyone knows they’ll do it 
  • Shiro is the lead singer because hello, look at him, he probably has the voice of a raspy angel sent from sex god heaven or smth?? look at him
  • Hunk as the bassist and is just as chill as usual and is suuuper good and he gives off ~good vibes~ but he also does back up vocals (and damn can this kid sing ok like he sounds like crystallized honey or something else equally incredible)
  • They’re called The Paladins and they’re kind of “underground famous” and had like one hit that was in the top ten on the charts for a couple weeks so like they’re recognized but they aren’t constantly swarmed, y’know?? and they like it like that bc it means they can play at a lot of local venues from their hometown and be able to relax and enjoy it
    • work with me ok they all grew up in the same small shitty town and got bored enough in high school to make a garage band and then figured out that they actually weren’t that bad and made a mixtape and sent it to a friend of a friend of a friend who sent it to someone who was actually important and came out to see them play and hired them on the spot bc why not
  • Lance is a groupie/super fan who has followed them on YouTube since they had 93 subscribers and has watched their rise to fame and has been low-key (read: high-key) obsessed with them for years
  • He finally finds out that they’re playing a gig half an hour from where he lives so he convinces his friends Rolo and Nyma to come with him because this is the first time they’ve been within a three-hundred-mile radius of me, Nyma, do you think i’m gonna pass this up DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ok Lance calm down
  • The three of them watch their gig in this run-down theater with a too-loud sound system and shitty lights but it is the best performance Lance has ever seen in his life and he would die for this band ok 
    • he has one of their lyrics tattooed on his right shoulder: “never be who they want you to be, you’re not you when you’re faking it
    • that song changed his life and made him realize it was okay to be bisexual and to not fight to live up to anyone’s expectations but his own and it empowered him to become comfortable with himself and who he is and to come out to his family and this band is so important to him
  • Somehow, someway, Lance hears there’s gonna be an afterparty with the band at this club a few blocks away and Lance decides that he will truly pay a cab driver to run him over tonight if he doesn’t get into that party
  • He gets into the party
  • It’s like a blacklight party or smth and when he snuck in, some girl came up to him and smushed his face between her hands and covered him with glowing face paint and he can barely recognize anyone but the one thing Lance is certain of is that no one has a mullet quite like Keith Kogane, even if he is covered in fluorescent purple paint
  • Lance manages to flirt his way into a conversation with Keith (who is absolutely wasted because Pidge challenged him to do shot-for-shots with them and he forgot he was a lightweight so he’s unusually giggly and not quite as angry/angsty/whatever as Lance expected him to be) and Keith keeps up a playful banter until he gets bored and hooks his arm around Lance’s neck and drags him on the dance floor and grinds on Lance so dirtily that Lance nearly cries 
  • They make out for the entire night until Hunk comes to drag Keith back to their tour bus because they have a gig the next town over tomorrow and he knows Keith is sloshed and probably needs monitoring
    • Lance looks so devastated when Hunk is leading Keith away that when Lance follows them outside to see them off, Hunk goes back to offer to put him on the guest-list for tomorrow’s show
      • Lance doesn’t know that it’s been 84 years since Keith has shown interest in anyone and Hunk is hoping that sober-Keith will enjoy Lance’s presence as well and also Hunk thinks Lance seems like a cool guy so why not? (we love Hunk)
  • Lance manages to convince Rolo and Nyma to do another show because hello they’re on the guest list?? and Lance goes up to them after the show and Hunk brings him backstage and Lance is just gushing about how amazing they all are and Shiro and Pidge are nice to him and they’re all sitting in the back room and Keith finally asks “who the fuck are you and why are you here” and Shiro’s like “Keith pls” and Keith is like “no he’s annoying why is he backstage with us rn” and Lance dies that day
  • Basically I just want me a nice cross country road-trip with a band and groupie!Lance who becomes one of their friends and who fights with Keith on their tour bus every night and Keith tries to kick him off at every one of their stops but the rest of them are like “Keith” so eventually Keith warms up to Lance too and finally Hunk lets it slip that this was the guy from that one time and Keith is like “oh” and he finally stops ignoring the fact that he likes likes Lance
    • their first real kiss is when Keith wakes up to Lance sneaking off the tour bus at 3am and he follows him to find out that Lance likes to sit on the top of the bus on the nights that they’re parked outside whatever city/town they had a concert in so he can stargaze
    • Keith joins him on the roof of the bus and they sit cross-legged and talk about nothing and everything and eventually Keith finds that he can’t stop staring at Lance’s face covered in moonlight so he just leans over and kisses him and it’s so perfectly them
  • I just want this really bad
Something about the 7
  • Frank: Are you a Chinese finger trap? Because once I stick my fingers in you, I can't seem to pull them out.
  • Hazel: Frank, gross.
  • Leo: Frank, do you remember how you escaped the finger trap?
  • Frank: Yeah... I turned into an iguana.
  • Leo: Right, that's why that line doesn't work. Because no girl wants little iguana fingers, with their poky iguana nails up their ass.
  • Frank: But you-
  • Jason: Or their vag.
  • Frank: But Leo-
  • Percy: Since when were you all so dirtyminded?
  • Frank: I'm not!
  • Leo: Really? Who said the pickup line about fingering a girl?
  • Frank: You made it up! You told me Hazel would like it!
  • Jason: Okay, you're going to need to fill me in on this one. I don't know why, but I seem to have missed the part where Leo became a reliable source of information.
  • Percy: You know what, actually, same here! I feel like I'd remember such an important moment.
  • Annabeth: You guys are so immature.
  • Percy: Yeah, yeah, we know.
  • Jason: Hey Piper, how would you respond if I used a dirty pickup line on you?
  • Piper: *Reading a brochure, and not looking up from it* First I'd knock you out with the hilt of Katoptris, then I'd cut your arm off.
  • Jason: *Knows it was just a threat, but is scared anyway* Oh, um, then I can trash the pickup line about my electric dick.
  • Leo: Jason, come on. Electdick. That one's obvious.
  • Annabeth: I swear on the names of all the gods of Olympus, if you weren't the one steering this damn ship-
  • Percy: DAM ship?
  • Annabeth: Then I'd push you off without a second thought.
  • Hazel: Wow Leo, sounds like you're in some real deep schist.
  • Everybody but Hazel and Annabeth: *Proud of her*
  • Annabeth: I hate you all.
Happy Lowman - Bookworm

Requested:

Happy Lowman.

Gemre:

Fluffy

Prompt:

Imagine person a is a book nerd and person B loves to watch them read and watch their facial expressions and mannerisms. Person A gets really self-conscious until a person becomes over and kisses them.
___________________________

You always loved the books ever since you were little. You were one of the very few people in your family that was quiet and extremely drawn back.

You are much different from your cousin Jax and his lifestyle. But you couldn’t help that you had always loved books one way or another. It was something about the fairytale behind the life that you lived.

Jax had always told you that he was all for the fairytale side of life, but you were the one that actually read them.

Everybody by now knew that you were Bookworm. Especially the guys around the club. And it was not odd or unheard of for one in particular person to watch you read.

This have been brought to your attention several weeks ago and you had been very self-conscious ever since. Normally you read all the time at the clubhouse with no problem. But now knowing that you were being watched, you only seem to read when you were the only one there.

Happy had been that person that you had caught watching your facial expressions change with each line that you read out of your book.

Truth be told you had not noticed the quiet man at first, and you started to wonder just how long he had been watching you for now. You also wondered what it was that made him watch you as you read. Surely something as simple as a young woman like yourself reading a book was boring to watch?

But apparently to Happy Lowman it was anything but boring.

Because there you were curled up on the couch in the middle of the clubhouse where you thought you had been alone. But upon glancing over the top of your book you felt your wants Getty expression quickly change into a shocked one.

They’re across the room sitting at one of the tables was happy and his eyes went on you. You were baffled as to how the man had managed to slip underneath your radar and quietly had taken his seat and watch you like usual.

Your eyes went back to the black font on the cream color pages, but you could no longer focus on the story as you were too afraid to show your normal expressions that your face made as you read.

You sat there for a good 3 minutes at least having to reread the same paragraph over and over again because you were too distracted I tried to keep your face still.

And it wasn’t until you heard the scuffle of a chair moving did you glance up over the top of your book again. There came happy walking up to you. Your eyes quickly converted back down to the pages but you are unable to keep them there once you seen the edge of Happy stop in front of you.

Your eyes shifted upward and you looked at the frowning man. He always seemed so intimidating to you, but not in a bad way. He always held that overpowering and protective vibe about him that seemed to call you yet make your heart rate increase drastically.

The two of you just looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. And then the next thing that he did completely threw you for a loop.

Putting his hand on the book he pushed it down into your lap. He then placed his other hand on the back of the couch as he leaned over and took your lips in his.

Your eyes widened and you were completely froze. You didn’t know what to do or what you were expecting to happen, but this certainly was not what you had thought was going to occur.

After a few moments of his lips being a top yours he pulled away slowly and just looked into your eyes.

“You’re too damn cute when you make those faces when you’re reading a book. Don’t ever let me see you try to change that again.”

He said before he pushed away from the couch and headed toward the exit.

Finally remembering to breathe you grabbed the book with both hands and held it closely to your chest. You could feel your heart in your ears from The unexpected kiss and his unexpected words of what sounded like an encouragement but came out more like a threat.

It wasn’t long until a smile curled the sides of your lips and you picked up your book once again and continue reading from where you had left off prior to the pleasant interruption.

Hold up.

I’ve been confident that Qrow wasn’t going to die from Tyrian’s poison… But now I’ve had a shocking thought…

Qrow and Raven are meant to represent Odin’s pet ravens that acted as his eyes to watch over the world with. Qrow’s emblem even looks like an eye. Throughout the series so far, Qrow has been watching over Team RNJR, taking the role of being a watchful eye over them.

And I can’t help but think, that maybe we misinterpreted a line from Tyrian. A line that we thought was a threat to Ruby. We were all relieved when that threat didn’t come true. But… what if it meant something entirely different. What if, Ruby does lose an eye.

It’s just not the eye we were expecting her to lose…

̵̗̱͕̬̰E̲̭̟ ͚͎̠̼̪̺Y ̴̳͚̜̥E̘̤̬͠ ͉̞̦ ͚ ̹̺͙͖̭F̜̼͓͈ ͍̱̬̰̘O̦ ͔͉Ṟ̹̭ ̦̱̟̗̼̦̙ ̧̜̯̳̱̺̟ ̢̰͍͕A̹̣ ҉͈̳͍̰̰N ̸̘̟̝̪̝̬̮ ̜̹̮͕͉̀ ̴E͓̝͘ͅ Y̤͖̦ ͓͙ͅE͖̻̦

What Should Not Be

(The title is a working one, but - more to the point - I’ve been toying with the idea for a multi-chapter story for some time and wrote a quick, semi-vague snippet for it. Let me know what you think and if you’re interested in me fleshing this out!) 


Dark looked down at him with hatred burning in his eyes; the way one regards an insect that has invaded their home. This creature - this less than demon, had made the worst mistake of his miserable life, and Dark had every intention of making him suffer dearly for it.

If, of course, he could first exorcise the damnable glitch from the one person he could not kill.

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew another insult-laced threat, when he froze with small choking noise. His eyes went wide as he took in that creature’s awful knowing smile. Damn him. He found it, and It felt like his aura was squeezing him from the inside.  

“Y̨ou f̷orgèt͢,” Anti sneered nastily, drinking in the sudden pained look on Dark’s face. “That lit́t͜l̡e̶ ̸p̸įec̷e͢ of your҉s͡e͟lf̶ ̀y̵o͡u̡ ̕lef̷t̵ ́i͢n͠ ͢Ma̸r͠k͢ ̡is ͜s̸t͞įĺl͝ ve͜r̶y ̧m̴u͝c͞h a p͘a͏r̡t o̕f͘ y͡ou͜.̴”

“I’m warning you,” Dark threatened, but it sounded too strained to be taken seriously. The demon’s grip tightened on the front of Mark’s jacket as he quaked with effort to resist. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

“In c͠h̢e͟ss̛,̛ ̧the Ki̢n̨g̕ ̢is͝ the̡ ̢cen̢t̸èrpíeće͝, isn͢’͠t i̵t?̴ An̴d̛ wh̨en̛ ͏ḩe ̶f͝all͟s, ͡s͏o҉ ̕do͢es ̀eve͏ryt͜h̨ing҉ ̶a̷rơund̨ ͝hįm.̸ Che͟ckma͏t̵e͏,̸ Dar̕k.” Anti teased, getting ready to throw the demon off him and gloat when he felt something lick his being from the inside, hot like a frigid tendril of fire.

“Get out of him,” Dark wheezed, his voice rasping. His face was pulled tight, eyes wide and teeth bared like an animal. Anti had done something; changed something. It was dragging the demon down in a dangerous way, and the glitch could feel it too. That small black spot on the human’s soul that he had thought contained was writhing within him like a bag of angry snakes. It hurt in a way he’d never felt before and he hissed, green lightning-like glitches arcing up and down his form.

“Wh̸-w̵h͢at ̶th҉e ̕fu͞ck͝-?” Anti spat, pulling the human’s arms inward to hold his chest.

“Get out!” Dark hissed again, and Anti’s back arched upward, head thrown back in blind pain. At this point Anti wanted to, anything to get away from this, but it was like he was being held down from the inside. Dark had him in a grip from that little black spot and the demon didn’t know it.

“I̵͞ ́c͡͏̨-͏̵͞c̴a͟ņ̶’̀͜ţ̕͜!́͡” Anti howled, form glitching and distorting beneath the demon. Their powers were going haywire, two forces that were never supposed to mix swirling chaotically within the human’s body and hurting everyone involved. Was this what it felt like to die?

Green crackling energy was collecting at Anti’s fingertips, while shadows began to dance and distort around them. Anti peered up at the demon on top of him and saw cracks running jagged lines across the demon’s fake face, some spots chipped and hollow like a porcelain doll. Shadows licked at the open edges, Dark’s true self doing it’s damnedest to break free. Anti had made a grave mistake, and now everyone was going to pay the price.

Anti felt the energy come to a peak and, with a snarl befitting the beast he was, he rammed his hands into Dark’s chest with all his might. There was a brilliant explosion of bright green light, and technicolor glitches that blinded all in the room. As Anti felt the explosion knock him away, he heard a distorted roar and the sound of something ceramic breaking, like a large dropped vase.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on the other side of the room, back pressed into a body shaped crack in the wall behind him. He couldn’t even register that pain, all of his senses on fire from within by something much greater. It had dulled some now that the contact had broken, but his containment of that pseudo firewall had all but been nullified, and it creeped throughout him like a disease, trying to destroy him.

He took a shaky breath using the human’s lungs, and l saw movement from the other side of the room. While all those other egos had been knocked away by the blast, either unconscious or too disoriented to move, someone was rising from the other side. Or rather, something. Anti wasn’t sure if it was just his vision, but whatever was forming on the other side of the room was nothing he had ever seen before. He couldn’t even place what it was other than… a living shadow. There was nothing distinguishing about it other than it’s eyes, one of which was a deep blood red, while the other was a cold navy blue.

It swirled about, staring at him, looking for all the world like the blackest storm stuck in place. The space it inhabited was an abomination of the three dimensional plane, seeming more like an absence of space rather than a block of solid shadow. It devoured all light around it, making it look like a blackhole.

“D̨̀͟ar͏͠k̸…̴́?̴̴” Anti asked, coughing and sputtering as even the word threatened to tear him apart. The thing made a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard, like a mixture of rapid clicking and the scream of a wounded hawk that had been endlessly looped and distorted. The lights around them dimmed, changing color until they were a deep red. Anti took a shuddering breath.

And then it charged.

It twisted through the air like an empty cloak, moving from side to side until, in a blink, not only was it upon him, but it was forcing itself inside of him. He felt the suffocating pressure on his chest as it plunged into him, feeling like a spear running him through, while a pervading cold invaded his senses and drowned out everything else. Between the pain, the fear, and the sudden pull from control in Mark’s mind, he did the only thing he could do.

He screamed.

Family Plot

Because this is something that just won’t leave me alone.

***********************

Alexandra Holmes huffs as she makes her way up the hill.

Behind her the remains of her family‘s estate- the remains of the life she once knew- stretch out behind her. The landscape is golden in the late evening sunlight, touched here and there with red and pink, green and yellow. It’s summer, and summer at Musgrave Hall had always been so beautiful…

As she thinks this she frowns, and instantly Christopher is beside her.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks quietly, and as always when her husband touches her, Alex finds herself smiling. Turning to look at him, to reach out and touch his cheek and show she’s doing fine. He’s so tall she has to crane her neck- another necessity- but nevertheless he’s leaning into her. Offering her comfort, just as he always has.

She has, she cant help but think, been so lucky in her choice of husband.

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Foudroyant -- Hoseok

Originally posted by taekookie-bts

(Part 01 / Part 02)

“Why would I go to a cafe on my day off?  I work at one.”

Your friend huffs over the phone, the sound even more annoying than usual for some reason.

“That doesn’t matter!”  You think it does, but you decide to keep your opinion to yourself.  “Plus, it’s different because it’s a hybrid cafe!  All of the employees are adoptable hybrids gaining some work experience and this way they’ll be seen by more people and have a higher chance of finding a good home.”

“You sound like you’ve done your research,” you state wryly.

“Of course I have!  Now come meet me here in twenty minutes or else I’m going to put spiders in your bed.”

You shudder at her threat and immediately head over to your closet so you can change out of your pajamas.

“Okay, okay.  No need to be mean.  I’ll see you soon.”

“Great!” your friend exclaims.  “I’ll text you the address.”

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brillouinz  asked:

Did echoes come off as sexist to you? More so than other fire emblems?

It came off as weird in that we’ve got the Kaga-era “life is shit for women” kinda dynamic what with all the fair ladies being captured and Mathilda retiring from knighthood as its base and then entirely new and entirely unnecessary bullshit added to that base.

More so? It really depends on how one defines sexism since there are so many facets to it. TL;DR under the cut.

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tooticklishforyoo  asked:

Oh oh hey Shibes! How about *squeal* with P5 protagonist and Ryuji?

A special gift for @tooticklishforyoo! HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY LITTLE BRO!!! ^__^
Omg I’m so sorry it took such a long time, and also for whining earlier… Writer’s block had been – and still is - a pain, but I really wanted to have this finished as a (mediocre) gift for this important day. It’s not perfect, but I hope you’ll like it ❤❤❤! Hope you have an awesome day! Best wishes for you!!! *hugs really tight and smooches*

Note 1: there’s a lot more sounds than just squeals in there XD
Note 2: I still can’t write short fics jfc
Note 3: being on tablet, I can’t edit properly, put a read more thing or an illustration… those will be added when my internet comes back ^^;; (Edit: DONE!)

Words count: 2015

***

           “Man, I’m beat…!”

Ten laps around the school might have been a little bit too much for a start. Especially so late in the evening. Ryuji was wheezing and grunting, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, but Akira didn’t fare any better than his friend. Without the wall as support, he would probably have ended up sprawled on the ground, stranded whale-like. Damn. He really wasn’t the sportive type.

           “I thi… think we should… lower our standards… next time…” the brunet panted, sweat trickling down his face. He wiped his forehead and grimaced. Ugh… sticky. What he wouldn’t give for a shower, right here and now.

           “Oh c’mon!” Despite the fatigue, Ryuji flashed him a bright smile. “We did it…! Ain’t that motivating?”

Akira pondered on the thought. Yeah, in a way it might be, indeed. But try as he might, he couldn’t see the experience as a positive one while his lungs and muscles burned like hell itself. If anything, his first impression right now would be more along the lines of: “I’m never doing that again…”

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anonymous asked:

I don't care about the It book. It's way to long and I know I'm never going to read it. I just know that Tim Curry is TO ME the one and only Pennywise the original Pennywise and there is no other.

I understand that it’s a huge undertaking and you don’t have to read the book, ever, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to see the new movie. But there’s something really weird that always floats around that I don’t quite understand of not wanting other people to have something like this. Let other people love it if they truly love it. No one’s out to get anyone here, people are just excited about a movie that sounds like it’s actually pretty damn good. 

This movie being well-liked isn’t a threat to anything or anyone. The original miniseries will always exist. There are still Pennywise T-shirts with Tim Curry’s face all over them. It’s fine. 

You shouldn’t feel obliged to like something you don’t like, but you can’t just shrug off the source material and pretend it doesn’t exist, either. The whole IT phenomenon stems from Stephen King’s source material and it should at least be acknowledged. 

I know it’s also really common to think that positive (or even negative) buzz for something is planted. That it’s inauthentic. I’ve been accused at least once of being paid off by the studio for giving something a positive review, but that’s definitely not how writing on the Internet works. It would be awesome and a lot easier if it was. But it’s not. I assure you that however different their opinion on the matter may be from yours, the people who are excited and who like this film really do like it. They just get something different out of it than you do. 

Tim Curry can be your Pennywise forever. That miniseries can always be your preferred adaptation. And no one’s stopping you from straight up pretending that the new one doesn’t even exist. But try to let them have it if they love it, because we all need those things. 

If It scares a new generation of fans, if they love it, connect with it or are scarred for life the same way we were watching the miniseries as kids–if it has that impact on a new generation, it can only be a good thing and it should be celebrated.  

FIC: Nodus Tollens

Title: Nodus Tollens

Characters: Dani Sanchez, Elliot Gilbert (friends), Levi Corbin (Yeah You Will Guy), Cassandra July, Maggie Banks, Isabelle Wright, etc.

Summary:  After an afternoon standing in the rain waiting for his so-called friends, Kurt realizes that his life doesn’t make sense anymore. Not the way he thought it did. He embarks on his junior year with an onslaught of opportunities, and 

This is for @vcg73 honestly. I promised it to her a year ago, wrote two chapters, and then had a lot of drama. So I’m posting this in hopes of forcing myself to outline it and write at least a solid short story of it. 

Part One: IN WHICH KURT BAKES TOO MANY MUFFINS

The rain came down in thick, forceful sheets. Like a wall on each side of the large, black umbrella, a force field cutting Kurt off from those who hurried by. After a moment or two (during which he’d been bumped into, thrice, proving that the force field wasn’t worth much), Kurt stepped off to the side of the sidewalk to let the other New Yorkers pass. He’d only stepped back to begin with because he’d gotten splashed by a taxi zipping by.

He was wet, and he was cold. His jaw was beginning to feel loose in his head, as though if he didn’t keep it tightly clenched, it would fly on its own, chattering madly. It was cold for the season. A sudden dip in the weather, although not enough to produce ice. Funnily enough, the sun had been out, for a time, when Kurt had strolled up. Gradually, though, the sun had hidden itself away, leaving only black skies, cold winds, and a torrent of seemingly endless rain.

For the first few minutes, Kurt had wondered if he were late, or early, or if the others had come to this spot in Kurt’s old neighborhood and immediately gone inside somewhere. His texts went unanswered, however. If they had gone off together, they had said nothing. Kurt suspected, though, that not one of them—Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Blaine, Sam, Artie, or even Mercedes or Tina—ever had any plan of showing up here today.

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Neil and Obstacles

Neil lives like he plays Exy.

Neil was too aware of the obstacles and his thrill came in outsmarting his marks. He liked being the better, faster player. He liked frantic plays, close calls, and heart-stopping goals. It didn’t have to be pretty or perfect so long as they won in the end. (TKM ch 10)

When he’s not quick enough, he likes to be clever. Neil’s default mode is flight, but if flight is denied, he turns to fight, bringing out his attitude problem in full force to take down his opponent.

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God Damn, Outfit-Swapping, Bald-Headed, Shit-Eating Grin Wearing, Motherfucker

So, recently I got a prompt from an anon asking me to write some Deacon/MacCready where MacCready accidentally confesses he has a crush on Deacon who just gets this big shit-eating grin. They only asked for a drabble but as it turns out, my buddy @fo4deaconreacts is running this Deacon oneshot contest so I decided to just kill two birds with one stone. (No trigger warnings on this one I don’t think. 1162 words long) 

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Whenever there are disasters in the West Indies, Miami-Dade and its citizens have always been there to help out in the ways they can. Always always always always! Even when it doesn’t get much other attention in the rest of the country. So don’t play this god damned game of “I care more than you because I posted a picture of a disaster on my Twitter and wrote ‘why do we only care when it happens in America?’” right now. Not when this Hurricane is barreling directly towards Miami. Do you even understand how cruel and obviously fake you sound? You can draw attention to relief without virtue signaling and trying to inflate your ego and likes all while underplaying the extreme threat this storm poses to South Florida. It’s looking like it could need all the help it can get after this and if it somehow is spared major damage it will get to helping the rest of the region as best it can with more than condescending tweets like it always has.